Dirty Dancing
The little merchant ship creaked as it swayed in the gently lapping waves of the Caribbean Sea. The moon lit the place up as bright as day, picking out the details of ship and sea in stark white and sharp shadows.
Francis was singing on the deck. The song was in French, nonsensical to Arthur's ears. He was also dancing; his arms flung wide, his coat fanning out as he twirled and stepped to a rhythm, wine sloshing from an ornate golden goblet he held in hand.
"Oh Arthur, Arthur, come! You must join me," Francis cried suddenly, thrusting a hand out in invitation.
"I'd rather not, thank you," Arthur said primly. He brought his own goblet to his lips for another swallow of sour wine. Swill, Francis had denounced with a regretful sigh, but he guzzled it happily enough.
"Come, come, Arthur, I insist!"
Francis took hold of Arthur's hand and pulled him towards the middle of the deck. Arthur stumbled after him, swearing as he slipped over a patch of slopped wine.
"Unhand me, you sodden frog!"
But Francis ignored him. He plucked the goblet from Arthur's hand and set it aside with his own, upending one to spill the remaining wine over a worn wooden table. He took Arthur's hands in his, arranged them around himself just so, and began to swing and sway, humming a tune Arthur was unfamiliar with.
Where Francis was fluid and graceful, Arthur was stiff and clumsy, and staggered in a most ungainly fashion around Francis. Francis sighed.
"Careful, mon cœur," he chided after he had had his foot trodden for the third or fourth time.
Arthur let out a snort. The wine must have gone to his head, for he found himself musing that the Frenchman looked almost beautiful, all flushed from dancing and the alcohol. He pulled Francis closer to him – close enough to kiss – and whispered, "This is how I'd prefer we dance."
Francis started a little as Arthur's hand wandered from his waist to brush against his rump. A smile spread across his lips. "Very well," he breathed, and surrendered himself to Arthur's lead.
A/n: A clean and polished version from the Writer's Ten Minute Challenge. I chose to write something with Francis for his birthday. Bon anniversaire, Francis, mon cher! The title. Lol. I just couldn't think of anything suitable.