The lost expression in his blue eyes was both shocking, yet enticing.
"Who are you? …Wait, who am I?"
The great Francis Bonnefoy, completely at a loss, cursed with a bout of amnesia.
"You don't remember?" Arthur asked, grinning a bit. Oh, this was priceless. "You're not just pulling my leg are you?"
He shook his head, his eyes innocent like a puppy dog. Arthur crossed his arms, looking Francis up and down apprehensively. "Maybe I shouldn't have slammed the door so hard in your face earlier."
Francis blinked. No reaction, whatsoever, to Arthur's snarky comments. Huh, he really didn't remember…
Arthur sighed. "Your name is Francis. And I, am Arthur."
Francis paused a second, processing the other' words. "Arthur…? So, are we friends, or… or related, or…?"
"Related?! Ha!" Arthur snorted, rolling his eyes. "Not in a million years." Arthur looked at Francis's innocent expression, and an idea formed. Oh yes, a devious, wicked little idea. "Actually, you could say we're something more than friends…" A sly grin crept onto his face. "Lovers, in fact."
"Lovers?"
"Yes. Lovers."
"I… am in love with a man?"
"…You really don't remember, do you?" This was unbelievable.
"I'm.. I'm sorry." Francis lowered his head in shame. "I do wish I could remember, I'm sure I do love you very much, as you say, I just cannot recall it…!"
"You know," Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to another, "maybe you should do something that will help you remember."
"Like what?"
"Oh, I don't know…. Maybe a kiss." Oh, was he pushing it.
"A kiss?" Francis repeated quietly.
"Yes, of course," Arthur urged, that mischievous little smirk returning to his lips. "Maybe then you'll remember; it will remind you of us, right?"
Francis fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting this way and that. "Euh, well… if you say so, I can try?" The man awkwardly inched closer. He sucked in his breath, and with one swift movement, leaned in, gave him a peck on the cheek, then quickly moved away.
Arthur blinked a few times, the small spot on his cheek where Francis' lips had been a second ago tingling. It was rather cute and all, but…
"You call that a kiss?" Arthur placed his hands on his hips. As sassy as could be.
Francis held his hands together, fumbling with them. "Well, I…"
"How is THAT supposed to jog your memory," Arthur remarked.
"I'm sorry!" Francis repeated, with a frown, lightly stomping a foot against the floor impatiently. "I hardly even remember my name or yours, and it feels like I'm being asked to make out with some stranger! You could be lying to me for all I know."
"So you're saying you don't trust me?"
Francis froze. "No… I believe you, I do."
"Then give me a kiss like you mean it."
Francis sighed, caving in. "Fine, I will try. Again." He grabbed onto Arthur's hands, and looked to the blonde's emerald eyes. But before he could do anything, he cast his gaze away, his face tinting with the slightest pink. "I don't know if I can do it."
"Here then, I'll start." Arthur drew him in close, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. And at first, that was as far as he was going to go, Arthur's silly little joke would have stopped there. But something about feeling that man's tender lips upon his- the man he'd always fought yet at the same time held as a friend, who he'd admired some days and hated him others, those despised yet coveted lips, those beaten and bruised lips, those alluring lips- something about them, just altogether made him crave more. And so they were only drawn closer and closer, exchanging their heated breath, their hands wandering down their figures, and through matted hair, grazing soft skin, and it was almost surreal to Arthur for he knew this could never have happened in reality, this never should have happened. But yet a part of him was glad it did, for he'd always wanted a moment like that from Francis, even if he had not realized it. And finally the moment came when their lips parted, and a content sigh escaped from one of them- or perhaps from both of them.
"Do you remember now?"
"No."
"…Idiot."
