Francis wasn't sure what had woke him up in the dead of the night, wasn't sure if it was the light of the full moon on his face or perhaps his pink haired lover snuggled up beside him. Perhaps it was something else entirely. He didn't know, it didn't matter. He was awake now, and that was troublesome.

Francis closed his eyes, tried to go back to sleep. His thoughts were swirling with something even more troublesome than being awake in the middle of the night. Arthur. Arthur and his baking, and his freckles, and his pink hair and bowties. Arthur… Always Arthur.

Francis sighed, rolled onto his side, away from Arthur, careful to not wake up said man beside him. Not that it would matter much if he did, Arthur was a heavy sleeper, and would likely fall right back asleep in no time.

He closed his eyes, huffed out a heavy breath as he tried to clear his head from his thoughts, tried to ignore the pale light coming in through his window. Another sigh. He'd never get to sleep with that light in his face. He adjusted back onto his back, much less careful this time than before.

Arthur… Francis turned his head towards him, gazed at him for what felt like the first time. Arthur was really beautiful like this, illuminated in the moonlight, silhouetted by the darkness that was Francis' bedroom.

He reached up, gently swiped away a stray hair from Arthur's face before doing the same to his own, tucking it behind his ear. It was soft, Arthur's hair… Everything about Arthur was soft. His skin, his hair, his breathing… even the way he hummed to himself when he was baking or cleaning. Soft and beautiful and so damn confusing.

Arthur was an enigma to Francis… someone he saw nearly every day, yet still couldn't understand. He'd watched him, known him almost his whole life but still couldn't understand why Arthur was so… Arthur. Was there even another word to describe him?

Arthur was the sweetest person you'd ever meet, but once he was angry he was quite a force to be reckoned with and he made sure everyone knew that. Arthur was strict in his rules, however trivial they were. No cursing, shoes off the furniture, use coasters, socks go on the left, underwear on the right, don't drink milk straight from the carton, no smoking in the house (exceptions were made for after certain activities in the bedroom). Break those rules and Arthur was there in an instant. Francis knew all about Arthur's nagging. He'd been married to him long enough to learn to avoid breaking the rules, no matter how stupid he thought they were.

Arthur was loud, obnoxious, at times, naïve about the world around him, about people's intentions and true nature. He never knew quite when to shut his mouth. Arthur could talk about the stupidest things for hours, and he expected everyone to be just as enraptured with whatever it was he'd decided to blabber about as he was. There were times Francis wanted to stuff his mouth full of those cupcakes he liked to bake so much, just to get some damn peace and quiet.

Arthur was impulsive, hyper, a regular ball of energy. He never could just sit and relax. He always had to be doing something. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, gardening… It was like Arthur had a secret "ON" switch in his head that didn't flip off until he hit the sheets at night. If he didn't have anything to do he paced. If he didn't pace he'd fidget. It drove Francis crazy, stressed him to all hell.

Arthur was insecure. He wasted so much time and money on those stupid cosmetics, layered it on like it was icing and he was the cake. For what? To cover freckles? There was nothing wrong with having freckles. There were time Arthur had even inadvertently hurt Francis by refusing to let him see them, on lazy days at home when it was just the two of them.

He could look now, though. Arthur always took his makeup off before bed, always made sure to turn off the bedroom light before he padded across the floor in his stupid pink bunny slippers and crawled into bed. Now… there was enough light from the moon that he could see. They speckled across Arthur's skin, mostly on his cheeks and his nose. Little specks of color on his almost white skin. There was nothing wrong with them. He didn't understand Arthur's hatred of them so much.

Francis' gaze lowered, landed on Arthur's lips. Arthur was erotic, more so than he knew. He could do things with his mouth that no one should know how to do. He knew how to clench himself in sinfully pleasing ways. He knew how to touch, how to rub, how to move his body in a way that could turn the heads of men and women alike.

Arthur was kind, caring, compassionate. Too much so for his own good. Francis could never understand how he could stand up for the lowest of people, couldn't understand why it was worth his time. He didn't know why Arthur would stop if he saw a crying child and buy him ice-cream on the streets. Arthur helped old ladies cross the street, put baby birds back in their nests if he found them on the ground, cared for sick or injured wild animals.

Arthur could cook anything you asked for, and make it the best you've ever had, even if he'd never made it before. He was a master in the kitchen, knew recipes from all over the world. He could perform measurements in his head, never needed a measuring cup for anything. He could slice and mince anything with a speed that was frightening, could fine tune any dish to be just the right amount of spicy, because Arthur never forgot that Francis liked spicy foods.

Arthur never forgot anything. He knew everyone's birthday, even people that were no longer alive. He never forgot anniversaries, and forgave Francis when he did, every year. He knew everyone's favorite dish, knew everyone's favorite color. It was as if he had it all written on a calendar in his head.

Francis hated everything about Arthur, and at the same time, loved him for everything he was. Life without Arthur would be quiet, that was for sure, uneventful, monotonous. He craved it yet at the same time always longed for Arthur to come home whenever he had to go away.

Arthur was hugs and kisses and hand holding and headaches and frustration all rolled into one big pink and blue, bowtied bottle.

Francis was brought out of his thoughts as Arthur shifted closer to him. He lazily slid his arm around his waist, took a breath. Arthur… Arthur was the simplest person he'd ever known, and the most complex at the same time. Arthur was always the same, yet a complete surprise at the same time. Francis knew everything there was to know about Arthur, but still knew nothing about him at all. He sighed again, pressed his lips to the top of Arthur's head for a moment, closed his eyes as that pink hair tickled against his nose.

Francis' thoughts were still on his husband beside him as he drifted back to sleep. Arthur baking in his apron, Arthur wiping coffee marks from the coffee table, Arthur sleeping soundly beside him. Arthur kissing him, hugging him, brushing his hair… Arthur's big blue eyes… his smile, his laugh. Arthur's soft breathing beside him. Arthur….