A/N: Okay, so I'm getting back into writing after having writer's block for like... a whole year... and I'm just... I'm so sorry.
By the way, I think my writing skills are a bit rusty (or may have even changed) over the year, so please overlook anything weird!
Again, sorry for taking so long to update. Enjoy!
Arthur didn't like secrets, if he was being honest with himself. It wasn't because he was, as Alfred would often call him, a 'party pooper', it was simply because he didn't really know how to react. Should he be excited? Nervous? Cautious, even...? He didn't know, and having his mind dwell on how he was to act just made him even more anxious. It was silly, too, because it was just dinner.
"Are you okay?" Francis asked, snapping the other out of his thoughts, much to Arthur's thanks. "It's okay, we're almost there; so we can get out of the cold soon enough."
"Oh, yeah, sorry," Arthur stammered, a little embarrassed for zoning out. He guessed he was like that, though, and unfortunately for Francis, he'd have to find out the hard way. "I was... just thinking."
"About what?"
Arthur didn't answer, his eyes just stayed glued to the stretch of concrete before them, dwelling in his surroundings. The city was quiet at this time of night, but it was still sleepless – the sounds of loud laughter from the different venues they've passed filled the air, alongside the familiar sound of cars on the highway not too far away from them. But it was still quiet, quiet enough that Arthur could hear his own heartbeat thumping away nervously in his chest, could hear Francis' calm but uneven breathing. Speaking of Francis, he was... warm. Like a fire that the family gathers around on snow day, drinking their hot chocolates and sharing belly laughs. It made Arthur thaw out from the inside, and with his hand interlocked with his companion's, he didn't feel so anxious anymore.
Though, with the fading anxiety, now Arthur was just feeling plain embarrassed. He was supposed to be the cool, collected one! Not Francis fucking Bonnefoy.
"I... nothing," he eventually replied, having gone red in the face. Luckily for him, however, Francis didn't make much out of it and just assumed it was the cold air. "I'm just starving."
Francis laughed, and Arthur subconsciously awarded himself for that, "I'd bet! This place where we're going... it's a small restaurant, wouldn't really call it one, to be honest, but anyway! It has an amazing range of Italian cuisine and I really, really recommend their carbonara. It's delicious, vraiment."
Arthur was the one to laugh this time. "Really? You like Italian? I love Italian, so I can't wait."
"Oui, that I do. I have a friend whom is in a relationship with a boy from Italy, and he and his brother make the most delicious dishes. If the two ever visit, I'll be sure to get them to whip up something," Francis replied, although after that final word left his lips, he looked away from Arthur and focused on the ground in which the two walked upon.
He seemed... saddened by what he said, like he was living in nostalgia at this moment. Arthur began to feel a little bad, as he felt it was his fault for the subject being brought up, although he didn't say anything... he just watched. Long eyelashes drooped ever so slightly, hovering above tired, yet alive blue eyes that reflected the orange hue from the lights of surrounding shops, giving it an ethereal and water spirit-like appearance; eyebrows that were just a bit untrimmed and untouched, although definitely worked-upon, creasing in the tiniest manner that one would not notice unless they concentrated; and lips that were so chapped and so dry in this cool weather, that Arthur just wanted to feel pressed up against his, despite the pain he knew would be in store for him.
But, he didn't care. He just didn't care.
Arthur smiled slightly and squeezed the other's hand in a comforting way, getting Francis to turn his attention back onto him.
"It's okay, frog," he reassured, which brought a warm smile upon Francis' own lips. "Maybe if you let me ink ya, they'll want to visit even sooner – to see my awesome work, of course, because I'm just so good."
That smile was soon replaced with bellowing laughter.
"Oh, I doubt it, Arthur!" Francis almost squealed out of amusement, causing Arthur to laugh alongside him. His free hand went to his face to wipe away any tears that surfaced, his cheeks were dusted a pink colour thanks to the blood rush, and his smile was so big but so genuine. Arthur was glad he was able to make the other feel and look that way. "Although, I do suspect you are quite... good in other aspects of your life... if you catch my meaning."
"Oh, I catch your meaning, pervert, and trust me, maybe you'll be lucky enough to find out."
Arthur, completely embarrassed by such a forward statement, let go of Francis' hand and raced a few metres ahead of him, allowing the Frenchman to stay behind and dwell with his thoughts for the time being... whatever he was thinking. He was laughing, to keep the situation not so tense, but he was also filled with anticipation.
Jesus Christ, Arthur just wanted to get his hands on that carbonara right this moment.
A/N: Alright, sorry for this being so short! I just thought I'd write something up and if I get a response, then I'll continue writing and get back into the 2k chapters. Thanks for reading!
Review?