This one's kind of short. Sorry guys, but more soon! I promise! I actually expected this chapter to be longer but it just ended in the right spot so I decided that would be that. I'll try to write as much as I can tomorrow and have another chapter up.

Arthur was showering again. Not that he just showered all the time, it was because it was already late afternoon and he had gotten dirty while working in his garden. He, unlike some, actually liked to be clean when he wandered around the house. He wanted to feel comfortable in his house and he did not feel comfortable when he was grimy.

"I guess Francis is gone," Arthur hummed aloud to himself, beginning to rinse off. He sighed loudly as the warm water coursed over his skin. Not that he had wanted the big love addict to stay but it wasn't always a good thing to live alone. It got one talking to oneself.

Suddenly the front door slammed downstairs and Arthur started. Had he locked the door? He hurriedly tried to think and realized he hadn't. Bloody hell, Arthur cursed to himself. I need to remember to lock it!

He quickly shut off the shower and, suds still in his hair, reached for his bathrobe. Whoever had just walked into his house was going to hear from him, no matter if they were embarrassed by his state or not. Grabbing his old sword since it was the only thing nearby—how had he lost his new gun anyway?—he raced downstairs, ready to slice whoever it was in two.

He heard the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Was someone trying to rob him? Oh no! Arthur suddenly remembered the secret stash of croissants he had in one of the cupboards. How had he forgotten about that? And Francis had cooked last night! He could have found them! No matter, Arthur was still going to run that bloody thief out of his kitchen.

Standing, sword at the ready, Arthur pressed himself against the wall as silently as he could. Just as the banging stopped, he leapt out into the kitchen, immediately swishing his sword up to the thief's neck. There was a crash and something wet splattered across Arthur's bare feet but he ignored it.

"Who the bloody hell—?" he began angrily and then stopped short.

Standing there at sword point was Francis.

"H-hi there," Francis said nervously, hands up in the air. "I swear I was just going to start preparing dinner."

Arthur, still not moving his sword, glanced down at the floor and saw that Francis had dropped a bottle of wine on the floor in surprise.

"Y-you startled me, Arthur," Francis stammered, also glancing down. "Do you think…c-could you move your sword now? …please?"

Arthur blinked and then looked back at Francis's face and saw that a small trickle of blood was sliding down the Frenchman's pale throat. Arthur had actually cut him. Hm, so the sword was still sharp. Good to know, Arthur thought to himself.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Arthur said absentmindedly, dropping his arm to his side. "I thought you were gone already." Francis smiled uncertainly as he began to clean the remains of the wine bottle and its contents from the floor.

"No, mon ami," he replied. "I went shopping for ingredients for tonight's dinner. I left you a note…" Arthur suddenly saw the note sitting on the side of a counter top.

"Oh, uh…" Arthur tried to think of an excuse. "It's been a long day," he said finally. "I had a long meeting all morning and then had tons of chores to do when I got home. I was just in the middle of…" He trailed off.

"A shower, I see," Francis said, smirking as he picked a large piece of glass from the floor. "You still have soap in your hair, mon cher." Arthur blushed lightly.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I was showering and I heard the front door open. I thought you were a thief." Francis laughed.

"What would anyone steal from you?" he asked, chuckling. Arthur scowled.

"I do have nice things you know," he snapped.

"And I once had this extremely nice bottle of fine wine," Francis lamented. "You realize that it took me three hours to find this? I went to every store asking for their best wine and they tried to hand me garbage! Eventually I met a man who knew what he was doing and he gave me this." Francis sighed and ran a large hand through his blond hair, freeing some of it from its sloppy ponytail. "And now it is in ruins."

"I told you," Arthur began, about to explain again but was suddenly cut off.

"Francis, love, you left this in the car and I brought you an extra wine bottle, just in case," a feminine voice said and a woman with straight black hair suddenly walked into the kitchen. She eyed Arthur up and down and then ignored him, handing Francis a shopping bag with something in it. She kissed him lightly and then took Francis's arm. "Who is this?" she asked, and Arthur decided that the only blue eyes he liked were those of Alfred and Francis.

"Thank you, mon amor," Francis said to her."This is Arthur Kirkland," Francis continued, as if nothing was wrong. "This is his house. Arthur, this is Katarina Morgan. I met her at one of your British markets and invited her to dinner." Arthur just stared.

"Nice to meet you," the woman, Katarina, said, smiling at him.

"Yeah," Arthur managed to say after a moment.

"Shall I put this in a cupboard?" Katarina asked Francis who nodded.

"Yes, thank you," Francis said, kissing her as she walked by him. She opened the cupboard and, after rearranging a few things, stopped and turned around with a bag in her hand. Arthur paled. It was his bag of croissants.

"Did you buy these, love?" she asked Francis, a curious look on her face. Francis frowned.

"No," he replied. "Those don't go with our meal tonight." The two turned to look at Arthur who then decided it was time to leave.

"I'm going to finish showering now," he mumbled and turned around, almost tripping over his own feet. Maybe he won't ask. Maybe he won't ask, he repeated to himself as he hurriedly climbed the stairs.

"Arthur?" Francis called out behind him. "Are these yours? Why do you have all these croissants? I thought you didn't like them!" Arthur sped up, throwing his sword into a nearby closet.

"Uh, I'm going in the bathroom now!" Arthur called back. "Don't bother me if you need something!"

"Arthur!" Francis ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Arthur squeaked when he saw Francis at the top of the stairs and he bolted into his room, which led to the bathroom.

"I'm going to shower!" he shouted, running now for the bathroom door. Francis caught up and grabbed Arthur around his waist. Arthur's bathrobe began to slip, making the two of them fall to the floor, Francis on top. "I…" Arthur began and then stopped as his voice cracked. "I'm going to shower now," he said as calmly as he could.

Francis took deep breaths and did his best to ignore all of Arthur's skin that was showing.

"Why do you have those croissants?" he asked in a breathy voice. Arthur's face heated up.

"I…know you like them," he lied.

Francis leaned down and barely brushed his lips over Arthur's. Arthur shivered and then punched Francis as hard as he could, throwing the man off him. Arthur stood up, rage evident on his face.

"Don't you dare," he began, voice shaking with anger. "Don't you dare try to kiss me after bringing a woman home," he snarled. "I am now going to finish my shower. You are going to fix dinner with your new wench. We'll eat dinner. Then you will leave." Francis frowned.

"Arthur, what—?" he began but Arthur interrupted him.

"Another thing," Arthur said, pulling his bathrobe back around himself. "Don't kiss me ever again unless we're in a real relationship that actually means something." With that, he walked into the bathroom then slammed and locked the door.

The woman is just some random lady I made up. Don't worry about her.