One of Francis' past lovers had once told him that he is like a cat when he first wakes up; it was a surprisingly astute comparison. He would lazily open his eyes, slowly pressing his limbs out and into the mattress to stretch; he would arch his back, some of the bones popping in relief. Then, if he had been blessed enough to go to bed with someone the night before, he would turn over and curl into their side for warmth.
It had been two years since Francis had woken up next to anyone other than Arthur, and yet he would always find himself a tiny bit surprised when he saw that Arthur was still there. This sensation was probably caused by too many years of drunken one night stands with the man. The days where Francis would wake up and find an empty place next to him had long since passed, and while he knew this, Francis could not help but feel pleasantly surprised to wake up next to him every morning.
He brushed his knuckles against the soft hairs at the nape of Arthur's neck, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead while carding a hand through his hair. Arthur grumbled, blearily opening his eyes before they shut once more, victim to a lazy yawn. They peeked open once more for a second before he let them slip closed once more as he curled into a ball, completely ignoring the other. If Francis was a cat when he woke up, Arthur was a hedgehog.
"Come on, dear," Francis whispered, brushing his knuckles over the other's forehead, both in a soothing gesture and to sweep the stray hairs out of his eyes. "Greet the day."
"It's my day off; I don't have to greet anything." Arthur's voice was heavy with sleep, and Francis had to suppress a shiver from rattling its way down his spine. Arthur took this momentary pause and pulled the duvet over his head with an air of finality.
Francis chuckled before he ducked his head under the blanket as well so that he could see his lover. He felt slightly like they were children hiding in a blanket fort, and the thought kept a smile on his face. It was pleasantly warn under there and Francis let himself momentarily consider letting Arthur have his way, but he steeled himself against the temptation before he spoke again. "We could have a nice breakfast and I could make a pot of tea for you; you could put on those jazz records you like so much and we can simply enjoy our day off."
Arthur didn't bother answering him; he just turned over so that he was facing away from Francis and closed his eyes even tighter. This left Francis with only one option.
"How long I've wondered, how this thing could last;" He sang softly, wrapping an arm around Arthur, who just scoffed and did his best to ignore him. "But the age of miracles had not passed, for suddenly I saw you there," He kissed his jaw and felt the twitch of a smile in return. "And through foggy London town, the sun was shining everywhere."
"You're such an arse." Arthur sniggered, sitting up and pushing the duvet away. "You win, but it better be a damn good breakfast."
Francis smiled as he leant over to kiss him, "It will be perfect, I promise."
