Arthur didn't feel like going in the lift and so headed for the stairs. His room was on the 8th floor and currently he was on the 5th so it was no problem to walk. He saw no one on the stairs, and wondered if every country was in this hotel. It wasn't even just themselves, since Maria would surely have someone from her meeting with her. Soon enough, he found his corridor and walked quietly, hoping not to meet a certain Frenchman.

He hesitated outside his door, would Francis still be there? He stayed frozen, key in hand, trying to will himself to open it, when he heard a noise. Suspicious, he slowly put the key in the lock and shoved the door open.

Upon seeing no one, not even fairies, Arthur realised the noise had been in someone else's room and sighed in relief, throwing the key down and sitting slumped on his bed. He slowly undid the shirt, remembering the last time he had been undoing it, but didn't take it off. He lay back on the bed and felt an unsuppressed grin fill his face as he re-lived earlier. He knew Francis well enough to know that the man would finish what he had started, most likely come back later to try again.

He rolled over and to his surprise felt wet against his cheek. He shot up in horror, what the hell was that? Upon inspection, he saw it was not what he feared, but tears. Worried, he looked around and saw that Francis had tidied everything away. The tea set was washed and drying, the towels straightened out on his bed, and the near empty wine bottle was on a coaster with two washed glasses nearby. Arthur put his head in his hands. He knew that Francis cleaned when he was upset, and the damp patch on the bed only confirmed it.

"Oh Francis," Arthur breathed. He shrugged out of the shirt and went to his luggage, spraying his newest and most expensive cologne on himself before unpacking a new shirt, and making sure it was perfect. He ran a hand through his unruly hair and bent down to the mini bar, finding some brandy and glass. Sitting back on the bed he poured himself a glass, knocking it back before putting them on the table, picking up the shirt, and heading to the room next door.

Arthur's mind was rather fuzzy from all the alcohol mixing inside him, and with a wildly beating heart, he knocked on the door. Upon hearing his own door click shut, he remembered that he'd left the key inside. To think he'd just told Alfred off for doing that.

Arthur knocked again upon hearing movement inside the room. He hated to think that Francis was ignoring him.

"Let me in, Frog!" he said in a raised voice. A thump sounded and then the door was opened. To Arthur's surprise it wasn't Francis, but Gilbert.

Arthur didn't smile as he was beckoned in. He hadn't thought of Francis being with someone else; he knew Francis was a passionate creature… but Gilbert?

"Oi, it's Iggy!" Arthur felt a muscle twitch in his jaw at the nickname, and swallowed nervously as he saw Francis come round the corner.

"You always overreact, jeez." Gilbert muttered. Francis shot him a glare before falling back in his seat and folding his legs.

"Here's your shirt." Arthur held it out to him and Francis took it, eyes not meeting his own. He felt a little smile play on his lips as he saw Francis was wearing his shirt. It was too tight, the fabric clearly showed his toned arms.

"Right, my awesomeness is off; places to go and all that. Bye." Gilbert pulled the door open and left.

"So." Arthur said awkwardly. Francis still didn't look at him, and Arthur was worried something serious had happened.

"Francis, look at me." Arthur said gently, but the Frenchman closed his eyes and turned his head away as Arthur went over.

"I am disgusting, you cannot see." Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. The area surrounding Francis' eyes was red.

"Sorry for making you cry," he said quietly, not quite sure why he was even saying it.

"It is not right for men." He mumbled.

"Ha!" Arthur scoffed. "Since when did you care about looking feminine?"

Francis smiled at that, and slowly opened his eyes. Just as Arthur expected, they were bloodshot and his lashes were clumped with tears.

"Stupid Frog, is it about earlier? You are making such a fuss over nothing."

"It was not 'rien' to me, prosaic tea drinker."

"I resent that, I can be romantic too!"

Francis playfully nudged Arthur's leg with his foot and sniggered as Arthur brushed his trouser leg clean.

"Don't do that! I don't care if you are upset, I only came to get my shirt back." Francis smirked at that. "Well, as you can see, that would be difficile."

Arthur felt tempted to grab France's shirt out of his hands and return to his room, but he didn't want France to win.

"Return later tonight when I will not be wearing it and I'll let you have it."

Arthur tried to ignore the innuendo, and to will the blood back to his whole body. Francis' coy smile meant that he'd noticed.

"Any fairies here?" Francis asked casually. Arthur didn't realise that his answer determined Francis' choice of action.

"No, I think they went back to London."

Francis released a slow and sexy 'hon hon hon' at that, and sat up in his chair with his confidence growing. Arthur narrowed his eyes, considering making a dash for the door when he remembered he wouldn't be able to get in his room. Francis had no problem with public sex -as he had previously found out- so a corridor would… Arthur's thoughts trailed off as he found his legs moving him towards Francis.

He couldn't remember telling them to, but didn't stop. He needed the man, right then. A look of surprise crossed the Frenchman's face briefly, but as Arthur slowly and stiffly leant over to him, he stood out of the seat, meeting him halfway and pressed their lips together, wrapping each other in a tight embrace. Arthur dug his hands into the shirt and felt his heart pounding violently, aware of Francis' beating in time with his. Francis was plastering his uncovered skin with kisses, toying with his shirt buttons and stroking his hair.

"Oh, mon cher. Mon cher, I thought you didn't want me anymore, you are so hard to read mon petit lapin. Oh, Arthur." Francis told him in between kisses and Arthur left all negative emotions deep inside him, as he pressed his body right up close to Francis, as close as they could get. Arthur let his arms roam across Francis' body and brought them to his chest, gripping the fabric and trapping him there - but of course, Francis had no intention of leaving.

Arthur felt his heart pressing against his chest violently as he set free the powerful emotion for Francis that he'd been restraining ever since it had scared him with its presence.

"Je t'aime, Arthur. But you already know that."

"I love you too, you fool."