Marry You
It's a beautiful night we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you. Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice?
Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you.
A/N: I have this inspiration stuck in my head while I was riding my motorbike to work while listening to this song (accidentally) that played in my iPod.
They literally have been together in their entire life. Their mother were a good friends and they were born in the same hospital, differ only two days, furthermore the people at hospital put them in neighboring crib. Their mothers were very joyful when they looked at each other while holding their treasure.
They went to the same kindergarten and played together, granted they were neighbor and the only child in the same age in their environment. They were inseparable, people said. When there was Arthur, Francis would always stand nearby or holding his hands – and Arthur would pout and tried to break away from him – showing his toothless mouth. In the summer day, their family would walk them to the nearest park to enjoy lunch together and both of them would run and compete to catch grasshoppers.
Arthur's mom was your average mother, a good housewife minus the part she couldn't cook well; she gave his son all the love and care in the world. So did Francis' mom but she was quite different in maintaining her family. She was working single mother and work as a fashion designer. When Francis was born she was still in entrée level but as Francis grew, her career also escalating. She rarely at home but she still managed to called Francis once in a while and sending him gifts from whatever part of the globe she came in. When Francis still in his kindergarten to his fifth grade of elementary school, his mother – who fond of cute things – always adorned Francis in laces and ribbons, making the little boy very pretty, even making the his girl friends jealous.
Francis though had no objection – he knew it was her mother's way to say 'I love you'. Francis would always smile and in high self-esteem flaunt his prettiness at school – much to Arthur annoyance – however Arthur always found him cower under his study table in his room, hugging himself and muttered that he'll be okay.
"What are you doing?" He asked with his baseball bat on his right hand, his sandy blond hair disorganized and damp as the result of his evening training.
Francis would look up to him; he forced his smile and crawled outside his fortress, fixing his nice frilly dress, "Playing hide and seek of course!" he lulled his head to left and right, to assure Arthur that there were nothing wrong with him.
Arthur reached out his dirty hand to Francis' right eye corner as the other boy gasped. "You know, before saying that you're okay, erase the tears mark first"
Francis went speechless for a moment before brushed Arthur's hand and smiled. "Don't wipe your dirty hand over my beauty face, I probably can't clean it off, Young Master" Arthur curled his fist about to threw his tantrum but Francis gave him that sad smile. "Thank you though"
He didn't show up during dinner, and so distance when they were in the sixth grade. Arthur somewhat missed their habit of bickering daily.
It was when they were on junior high when everything seems back to normal or escalating their rivalry level. Francis also stopped to wear the frilly clothes and his posture changed into somewhat manly.
He beat Arthur in term of height and the lean body started to build muscle under the pale skin. Arthur didn't like it; he made the girls at their school literally subdued on their knees just by seeing him and automatically became the male's enemy but weirdly enough the male, also, attracted to him – thanks to his looks and flamboyant, easy to make friends outlook.
Not only beat him in appearance, he constantly beat him in the ranking score. They would always change position on who's on top of whom on scoring table. It made him rage, study was the only things good latched to him excluding some sports like football and occasional baseball. He protested but the Frenchman only laughed and taunted him more and more about Arthur would never be as good as he is, he fucking hates him.
Then again when they're in high school, he met him again sitting in front of or behind him in many classes. The fuck why they had many same classes? And their clash on ranking repeated itself just like when they were at junior high.
"Stop stalking me." Arthur said one day on dinner at his house. Francis was the constant guest, Arthur parents were already consider him as their own after all.
"What? I'm not, you just happened to be there, cher…"
"Don't fucking kidding me, why do I must see you at home and at school too? I'm fed up to see your face"
Francis stirred the cream soup, smiled. He propped one hand to his chin and his slightly droopy eyes were warm and tender. "Maybe that's the reason why I was born – to annoy you, remember I was born only 2 days separated from yours, and your mom always celebrated ours together on my birthday"
"I hate that." Arthur crossed his hands in front of his chest. "She's my mom but you steal her."
Francis chuckled, his shoulder shook gently. "But you still have her next to you, non?"
It was awkward after Francis finished his dinner and bid him good night and went back to his empty house, across his own. The guilt lurched inside his stomach; he shouldn't bring up things about mother if Francis was nearby. He plopped his body to bed, buried his head on the pillow, thinking. Ah, yes he was jerk.
When he was on his second grade, sitting alone and reading book under the tree while munching his sandwich at lunch time, he had his first kiss. He paid no attention to his surroundings when he felt a finger poked his cheek. He ignored it at first knowing the only person who dared to do that to him and he continued to read.
Pokes.
Pokes.
Pokes.
"Cut that crap Francis!" He burst his anger and about to punch the other man but he found palms wrapped around his face and velvet touch of lips covered his'.
Arthur eyes widened in shock, he immediately shoved along with a good punch to sober him up. He gritted his teeth in disgust, spilling rapid curses he knew with one breath; everyone near them watched the rare view. Indeed they were rivals but never once they used brute force seriously to put the other on the ground.
Francis held his right cheek; his tightly tied wavy hair went into mess when he tried to sit down. He also launched some curses in his native but offered his cocky grin when he saw Arthur's angry face. The other man, however was beyond pissed off, his trembling lips formed words he truly meant, "I…fucking hate you, Bonnefoy…"
Francis' expression changed, sensing something wrong with his mortal nemesis. "Arthur?"
"Please, please go somewhere else, somewhere far so I don't have to see you EVER again!"
Arthur noticed the change of Francis' face, his lips closed to a tight thin line, as if he tried to not spurting something stupid from it. Arthur couldn't read the slightly droopy blue eyes – the expression in it was a mixture between understanding that he already crossed the line and sadness of rejection. The Frenchman stood and dusted himself, threw his hands and shrugged before prancing away from Arthur sight.
He didn't show up by dinner or to school the next day.
Or any other days.
He couldn't find him, Francis disappeared.
He just…left.
It was seven years later when he saw Francis again. He was introduced by his boss as the new editor; he would tag with Arthur to handle a travel and style magazine. He didn't recognize or pay attention at first of this new man, but when his boss mentioned a familiar name and his job description – that he heard his own name mentioned – he looked over his cubicle.
The same blue eyes was there, stood tall beside his compact boss. At that time he was wearing black bolero hat, long shawl, black and white stripe jacket above white casual shirt, he also wore black pants and leather shoes that made every eyes couldn't divert their gaze from him – Arthur tsk-ed and grunt, concentrated back at his work, correcting things from his writer that just reviewed Sierra Leone for their next edition.
He stared at the empty chair next to him in the adjoin table – the only place left in the entire office after his previous partner of editor resign and decided to be a housewife, there was no divider that can cover them on peeking each other through their shoulder, and the only thing that separated them was the printer, oh joy.
Their boss walked Francis to his new place; he turned and introduced Arthur to the new guy that wasn't so new to him. Arthur knew, he was pretty much still feeling guilty for punching him and made the man disappeared for seven years but it was not in his dictionary to turned his eyes and not facing the man he known for life.
Green met blue, Francis mentioned his name in the smoothness that familiar to Arthur so did Arthur. From his close inspection Francis' appearance slightly changed, he had the stubble that decorated his face now, marking his masculinity and his pale skin slightly tanned. Arthur didn't know where he disappeared between the seven years but he must admit Francis grew to a fine man…what?
But there was something that made Arthur proud even though he couldn't win against the good looking Francis, he evened their height and it made him proud because he was always the shorter one.
After spending another two years of competing, bickering, cursing, drinking, kissing, sucking, sighing and moaning later they found themselves tangled in the relationship people would call friends with benefit, scratch that, enemy with benefit would be the right term – because both of them never agree on things except the things that brought them in mutual advantage.
Arthur groans loudly as he feels his head pangs so hard, he gathers his clothes and walks to the bathroom, feeling the aversion of their late night activity, including heavy binge and 'bed wrestling'. They're on duty to review about Phuket Beach for honeymoon destination; their boss was kind enough to let them spend a week to write a good review for the magazine and tightened their bonding at once – no, the office people don't know about this frenemies plus plus things, the boss did that because he wanted the office at peace at least for a week by repelling the troublemakers abroad.
Then again after four days being here, the things they are doing only consist of eating, walking, partying, drinking, move to another bar, drinking again get drunk and fucking. Arthur shook his head as he flushed the toilet, thinking what he should write for the magazine and Francis doesn't help at all. That damn French even suggested writing bar experiences – for the wedding and honeymoon issues? He must be nuts.
He resolute himself that he will write in the two and a half days, hoping his head will remember enough of the tourist attraction – something tranquil, not the loud music and the bitter taste from many glasses of beer.
Arthur sighs as the warm water sooths his tired muscle and heavy head. It feels so good to be alone and think, but then again the bathroom door being opened. A naked Francis walked in with sleepy eyes to find his bed mate, he smiles and his shows something. Arthur can't see from the foggy glass of a shower and he opens the door to find his BlackBerry vibrating.
"Boss." Francis informs him.
"Don't answer." Arthur commands the fine blond.
"I didn't, it's the fifth time it vibrates, what should I do?"
Arthur tsk-ed and pulls a towel to dries his head before covering himself from the waist below, Francis' face fell but as he hands the phone to the owner but before he walks out he manages to give Arthur's butt a squeeze that makes Arthur yelps and glares.
"Yes boss?" he answers.
"Oh God Arthur, I thought you were MIA or something like that, why it took you so long to answer?"
"I'm on the bath, boss."
"Oh," he contemplates, "I just want to check how far the progress, it should be ready for the end of the month."
"I- everything is in control." he lied.
"Good, I can't wait to see you and Francis in our office again, it's so pea- I mean quite without you two." Arthur can hear their boss is lying too.
"See you later, I'll contact you again when we're about to take off."
"Take care, okay.."
He stomps his feet outside after flung a bathrobe around his body and throws his phone to bed. Francis – who drinks the coffee while watching the TV stares at him – Arthur glares as his sense smell something he dislike.
"Throw that trash drink to the sink please; you know I don't like the smell."
"Whoa, calm down…just because the boss called you throw all your anger at me."
"Shut up, the phone was pointed for both of us; we haven't written anything about this place!" He pace back and forth, in front of the window of their resort which facing the vast blue ocean and white sand.
"Is that why you angry?"
Arthur stopped and knitted his thick eyebrows, the things that always be the target of Francis insults. "Isn't that clear? You dolt."
Francis doesn't answer and bit his inner cheek, maybe thinking about something and Arthur throws his hands and pulls his forgotten laptop, still in his bathrobe he opened the writing application and stares at the white digital paper, hoping that it will write itself.
"Your face is scary mon cher." Francis chuckled.
"Shut up and help me here, you're my editor partner, two heads are better than one"
Francis raises his eyebrows, "Well, yes of course…"
Arthur rolls his eyes, "Could you please keep your mind off the gutter?"
Francis walks and sits beside Arthur; he offers him his lazy smile. "I guess it's you who need a brain washer, I'm not thinking about that 'head' of course."
Arthur's face reddened and he was about to smack Francis' head if he didn't feel the long fingers sooth the back of his neck, lightly massaging the knot of tensions and lessen his headache, he feels relax as his hands slowly typing on the keyboard.
It was 4 PM when they almost finish their paper, eight pages total after they manage to squeeze every single bit of places they can recommend between their binges in four days. Francis looks to his right; Arthur is taking a nap, on the same sofa they seated before. His head rests on the arm of the sofa while he has his feet o Francis' lap.
Francis sighs and wakes Arthur, the other man mumbles, asking him about the time and circle his hands around Francis' neck, the Frenchman kisses the corner of Arthur's mouth while informing the time. Arthur's eyes shot open and he pushes Francis that lost his balance and falls butt first on the soft surface (luckily) of carpet.
"How's the progress?" All the sleepiness in his eyes disappears.
Francis pouts, "The last touch, I can't find it."
"What is that?"
"You see…the reader would love it more if we give them tips to have a good honeymoon, not just recommendation of places, that's the problem"
"Right…"
"Look what we've done for these four days, Young Master. It's not for newlyweds, it's for party crazy"
"In other words…"
"It lacks of romanticism…"
Arthur makes face and groans, if Francis can't do anything about the romance part; he most likely will suck hundred times more than Francis if he's forced to write it down. "Why the heck again we must handle the article for honeymoon?"
Francis shrugs, "But then again, we have nothing to do if we just sit here, let's go for a walk, maybe we can take a look at the newlyweds around here."
Arthur thinks for a while, "Right and I just remembered that I need to buy Alfred souvenirs from here…what a troublesome brother"
It's dark already when they sit as they like in the secluded beach near their resort, in Arthur's hand there's a pocket digital camera that captures activities they managed to get for their reference while in Francis hands, there's some can of cold beers that can help them to cool down a little bit, it's a tropical country after all, very different from where they come from.
They check the pictures one by one, giggling when they see something stupid or someone's weird expression. But then again they're still lost about the romantic things they want to write.
Arthur sighs as the coconut trees sway because of the wind. Francis offers him the second can and their eyes meet. Those blue eyes seem to change color to black for the lack of the light and he wonders do his eyes look like that too?
"Find me attractive?" Francis teases and Arthur didn't realize when that annoying bastard lit his cigarette.
"Nope," Arthur leans to the sand, propping his body with his elbows while he turns his face back to the ocean and chugs the still cold alcohol to his system. "Francis…I- where have you been for these seven years?" he spills the question he dares not to ask to the other man.
Francis' eyes are distant, crossing the ocean and Arthur doesn't know what he's thinking. "Many things…helping Maman mostly…"
"Are…you angry at me? I- told you to go away and you disappeared, I was confuse…I-" he feels the tears start to build a crystal fortress inside his eyes, he brushes his knuckle over his eyes.
Francis' lips curl into a soft smile, "At that time, I was about to say goodbye though, my mother already asked me around a month before but I keep prolong my stay here, you know I don't know what to say to you…"
"Stupid, at last say something when you about to leave, my parents were scared as hell, especially they knew after my mom just gave birth to Alfred, they went pale like ghosts you know, and blame themselves, they were afraid that couldn't treat you well"
"Ah, my bad…" he swallows another gulp and put off his cigarette on portable ashtray. He turns to Arthur to face the dark green. "But, you are happy that I'm here, right?" he sneers.
"Don't flatter yourself," he flicks Francis' forehead and laughs as the other man yelp. "Actually when I saw you again, I was thinking…you are really a stalker…you constantly pops up in my life, even in unwanted time"
Francis chuckles, leans closer to Arthur's face, challenging the lively eyes and whispers to his earlobe, "I told you before, right? I was born to annoy you."
Arthur shivers as the hot breath reaches the sensitive spot of his skin, but before he protests, his lips claimed by Francis'. Arthur closes his eyes and pulls Francis on top of him. They roll, punch, kick, kiss, making hickeys to each other until they're covered in sands and giggling like idiots before they stop. Francis presses a soft kiss on Arthur's forehead and shifts to face Arthur – who clings his hand on his back – beneath him.
"Beautiful night, fine accompany and cans of beers what else I can ask"
"You are too easy too pleased, Monsieur…and you're a stupid jerk…"
"Oui, oui, I am…" he reaches out for the empty beer can and cracks the can opener. "Since I am stupid…may I see your hand?" Arthur raises his eyebrows and gives him his right hand, "non, non…the other hand"
Arthur snorts and offers his left hand, "What do you want to do frog?"
"Something dumb…" he laughs, smooths Arthur's fingers, kissing its knuckle before focusing in his ring finger and pushes the can opener to the said finger that weirdly fit. "I've been thinking for all this time, I don't want to be in this not friend not lover situation anymore with you, young master…I think I want to marry you"
"Wh-wh-WHAT? D-did you just proposed to me?"
"Well, likely yes…" Arthur smacks Francis' head. "Ow, what was that for?" The Frenchman protested.
"Wh-why…I- I demand romantic dinner, violin background as you kneel in front of me and I expect d-diamond ring not this can opener…the hell, we're not even dating!"
"Yes or no?" Francis smile is serene and full of hope.
Arthur breaks down and cries, "Look how we look…dirty, full of sands…it's not romantic…dammit…yes…yes!"
Francis hugs Arthur to calms him, he doesn't care about the tears, or snot or saliva on his t-shirt, hell he receives more than that from the man in his embrace. "I'm happy Arthur, hey at last we can fix something…let's go to the small chapel near here…the resort area has it, it's white and facing the ocean"
"How- how can we get in? Isn't that locked?"
"Let say…I have this ability to break in"
Arthur's face contorts, "You criminal!"
Francis winks and drags Arthur to the said chapel and exchange vows in their vacation shirt, shorts and flips-flops then they kiss for the first time as husbands. They press their forehead and stare at each other eyes in close distant.
"I demand new ring and don't leave me alone like the past seven years…"
"Anything, Young Master…" Francis smiles.
When they hear rustle of footsteps and spot the light from the flashlight, they run as fast as their feet allow them, they laugh freely while holding each other hands. They're happy with the fact they will spend each other company forever, yes indeed.
…you can try to snuggle on the sand in front of your resort, or maybe little actions if you dare. You can always depends to beer can to re-construct your proposal in unromantic way just to look at your spouse's precious laugh, trust us it will be a quite memories for you…
"Arthur, Alfred's here" Francis' loud voice informs him.
"Oh yes…I'll be there in a minute" He put down the novel he read, the platinum ring now replacing the previous can ring but he kept the said ring in a red velvet ring box, it's as precious as the platinum one he wears.
Or maybe…it's more precious…
Because it's the remembrance of the spontaneous proposal in one beautiful dumb night.
~The End~
Originally I want to make this to have M rated but I put that down because...I'm bad at descripting something sexy.