La soie dorée

Chapter One

...

If he had to describe his lover's hair in one word it would be silk. A golden, shiny silk that fell gracefully over his shoulders whenever he moved, talked or simply breathed. Sometimes Arthur wondered if that obsession with the Frenchman's hair was kind of sick, maybe even creepy, but he just couldn't help himself when he saw those golden curls looking so smooth and inviting to the touch.

That was one of those awkward moments when he felt uncomfortably self-conscious as he lay on Francis' king-size bed with one of Jane Austen's books open over his lap while discretely spying the other. They had made reservations in a very nice restaurant that night... which meant that he would have to distract himself while Francis spent hours in front of the bloody mirror. Not that he was complaining, the Frenchman always looked stunning after those 'beauty sessions' - as Francis liked to call it - and he could spend his time reading a good book or drinking some tea while waiting.

He watched as the hairbrush slid through those soft golden strands, so slowly... He couldn't even bring himself to be angry as he watched that mesmerizing scene.

"You know, Angleterre... you can do more than just stare..."

Arthur blinked a few times, knowing that his face was turning into a shameful shade of red when he saw those piercing blue eyes staring at him through the reflection on the mirror. He cursed silently and lifted the book to cover his face and hide his embarrassment.

"I wasn't staring at you. Don't be so cocky, frog..."

"Oui... then why is your book upside down?~" Francis asked, a smug grin playing on his lips when he watched the Briton through his reflection.

Arthur widened his eyes, wanting to bang his head against the wall when he noticed his mistake. "I-It was on purpose," he said in a rush and quickly turned the book in the proper position.

Francis just chuckled and stared at his own reflection, brushing his hair carefully when a sudden idea made the corner of his lips quirk up discreetly.

"Could you help brushing my hair, mon cher...?"

The Briton lowered his book slightly, cursing silently when he noticed the tiny smirk on the corner of Francis' mouth. That expression always meant that the Frenchman probably had some evil and wicked plan up his sleeve. He sighed and closed the book, placing it over the nightstand as he stood up and walked toward his lover.

"Happy now...?" Arthur mumbled grumpily when he snatched the hairbrush from the other's hand and stared at him through the mirror.

"Oui~" Francis whispered, smiling slyly before leaning both elbows over the comber and resting his chin over his hands.

Francis watched the other's movements intently and closed his eyes when the Briton touched him, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Whenever he had the chance he would ask Arthur to do that kind of thing, not only the thrill of seeing Arthur obliging to his wishes was worth it but the pleasure of seeing him so flushed was also delicious enough.

Arthur sighed and started sliding the hairbrush through the soft blond locks, wondering if it would be alright to just run his fingers through that sea of golden silk. He chewed on his bottom lip and dropped the hairbrush over the comber discretely, touching the top of Francis' head hesitantly and letting his fingers slide between his perfectly curly hair.

The Frenchman let out a soft purr of appreciation when Arthur's fingers started sliding though his hair, combing it without difficulty. He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side, drumming his fingers against his own cheeks slowly.

Arthur bit on his bottom lip when he realized that Francis had his eyes closed and leaned forward discreetly, holding the golden strands and bringing them closer to his nose to sniff the charming scent of roses that always followed Francis wherever he went. He chuckled softly when he remembered about the first day he had touched Francis' hair like that, when he still was a young child and wanted to know if it was as soft as it looked. How silly of him... it felt as if he had been cursed since the day his fingertips had brushed against that sea of gold, he just couldn't get enough of its beauty.

"What's so funny, Angleterre...?" Francis opened his eyes and looked up with a mix of confusion and curiosity, wondering what had made Arthur look so amused.

"It's nothing..." Arthur said, shaking his head nonchalantly in the hope that Francis would stop making questions.

"Nothing...?" Francis asked with a raised eyebrow, finding it odd to be seeing Arthur laughing without a really good reason.

Arthur just rolled his eyes and nodded, trying to change the subject before he ended embarrassing himself saying something he didn't want to.

The Frenchman chuckled and reached for the flower pot over the comber, picking one of the red roses that were inside it. He had always loved roses... specially the red ones. They were so enchanting and mysterious... but even with their beauty and delicacy there were always the thorns that could hurt and pierce the skin if the rose was threatened. In a way, the roses reminded him of Arthur, and maybe... just maybe... that was the motive he had always loved them so much.

"You're always denying your feelings..." Francis chuckled and twirled the rose between his fingers, staring at its crimson petals before turning his head to gaze at the Briton.

"I'm not..." Arthur muttered grumpily, stopping to move the hairbrush for a few seconds when he was caught in thoughts after hearing Francis' words.

He looked up at the other's blue eyes and then glanced at the red flower on his hand, recognizing it to be one of the roses he had plucked from the garden earlier that morning.

"This brings a lot of memories, don't you think?" Francis muttered, lifting the rose to outline Arthur's lips with the smooth petals.

"Y-Yes..."

...

The waves crashed against the rocks violently, splashing droplets of water on the soil under their feet. The wind blew softly between the two men standing near the cliff, and Arthur couldn't help but admire in silence how that golden hair swayed softly, dancing in the rhythm of the sea breeze.

"What are you doing here?" the Briton asked coldly, holding his tough facade as he stared at the blue-eyed man in front of him.

"That's not the best way to welcome an old friend, Angleterre..."

The Frenchman chuckled softly and turned around to face the other, holding his hat in place when the wind threatened to blow it away.

"Don't call me that... we're at war." Arthur muttered, taking a few steps forward until he was standing in front of the Frenchman, who now had his back turned to the sea, "You know... I could just push you down the cliff for having invaded my land..."

Francis smiled and looked over his shoulder, watching as the high waves agitated the sea beneath them.

"Then go ahead... I won't fight back..."

Arthur squinted his eyes when he heard that and closed his hands into fists, not really considering the option before averting his eyes to the side. "What do you want...?"

Francis smiled when he noticed that Arthur had calmed down a bit and stepped to the side, gazing at the sky as the orange rays seemed to touch the water when the sun started to set. "I'm sorry, mon cher... I had to see you before the battle started," he said, smiling sadly when he turned toward Arthur again.

"You're losing your time here..."

"Maybe... but I thought that it was worth a try..."

Francis stepped forward and picked the flower that was tied to his hat by satin laces. He held out the red rose for Arthur, who just stared at him with confusion.

"This can be our last meeting if one of us suffer a serious blow," the Frenchman whispered quietly while staring right into the other's green eyes, "So... I came here to see you and... say a final goodbye in case we won't be seeing each other again..."

Arthur widened his eyes slightly when the words sunk into his brain, not even having imagined that the Frenchman was worried about that. He opened his mouth to talk but no words came as he didn't know what to say in response. It felt as if he had a lump on his throat.

"Don't be ridiculous..." Arthur blurted out suddenly, sounding a lot harsher than he had intended. He clicked his tongue when he saw the confusion flashing on the other's blue eyes and scolded himself mentally for the sudden outburst. "I'm not saying goodbye..."

"Arthur...?"

"I don't have time for this, Francis... and you better go home and prepare for the war, the British won't hold back." Arthur said, pursing his lips as he turned around and adjusted the black hat on his head before starting to walk away.

He just couldn't accept that rose... picking it would mean accepting that miserable fate... and he didn't want to say farewell. Not yet. He knew that those thoughts would never have the chance to be spoken out loud, but even if his mind wanted to deny his feeling with all of his forces, his heart was a lot more stubborn... and for now he couldn't bear looking at the sadness on those blue eyes anymore.

"You're really being serious now... I heard you joined Gilbert..."

"I told you, Francis... if you didn't stop I would seek for strong allies and end this war... I'm a man of word," Arthur stared harshly at the Frenchman from over his shoulder before pulling his red coat closer to body when he resumed walking down the stony path, "I won't give up. You can plan as many blockages as you want but I'll find a way... keep that in mind... I won't lose to you..."

Francis chuckled sadly and watched Arthur walking away, lowering his gaze to gaze at the red rose in his hand. Maybe he really had gone too far in seeking for the Briton in a time like that.

"So pretty... what a waste..." he sighed, twirling the stem between his fingers as he brought the red petals closer to his nose to smell their perfume.

He walked till the end of the cliff and let the flower slip from his hand, watching as it fell on the water and disappeared into the blue immensity.

...

"Those were some stormy years..." Francis chuckled and placed the rose back into the flowerpot, moving a hand backwards to run his fingertips through the other's hair. "But you know... in the end you really won like you promised..."

"What...? The battle?" Arthur whispered, closing his eyes for a brief second when he felt the Frenchman's slender fingers running through his short blond hair.

"Non," Francis stood up and gazed at his lover intensely, letting his blue eyes burn into Arthur's emerald ones, "My heart..."

Arthur blinked in confusion and lifted his head when the Frenchman cupped his chin. Soon his eyes were admiring how those beautiful lips moved smoothly to whisper sweet nothings against his pale skin, watching in awe as the sentences rolled over that French tongue that seemed to be gifted by the gods with the most enchanting words. Words that had captivated his soul when he was still a young boy and that remained making his heart beat faster and melt into a puddle of love when that whispered and loving voice would reach his ears like molten sugar.

The Briton smiled and placed both hands over his lover's shoulders, gasping when he had to step backwards and the back of his knees hit the edge of their bed. He squeezed his eyes shut when his feet slipped and he fell on his back over the mattress, feeling the weight of Francis' body falling over him as the Frenchman fell on the bed too.

"F-Francis... we're late," Arthur whispered, glancing down when he felt a tug on his green tie before Francis' fingers started working quickly to undo the knot.

"Dinner can wait a bit..."

A warm smile made its way to the Frenchman's lips and he ran his fingertips over his lover's right wrist, bringing Arthur's hand closer to his mouth to press smooth lips against tender skin. He gazed at Arthur through half-lidded eyes and took in the sight of the soft blush that dusted over his once pale cheeks, feeling a twinge of joy when he realized that the other's smile was matching the brightness of his deep green eyes.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh and his eyelids fluttered closed for a brief second as he enjoyed the sensation of a pair of warm lips capturing his own. And he was lost again... lost into the little and private world they had created just for the two of them a long, long time ago. He knew that words weren't necessary anymore and let his body speak for itself. Now it was just the two of them... the whispered confessions and the sound of erratic breaths and accelerated heartbeats as their bodies moved in the same passionate dance.

...


AN: Thanks to everyone for reading, I had this idea in mind for a while and wanted to write some fluff FrUk :3

Chapter two will be up soon ^^