"It's like he's always there!"
"He doesn't do anything all day!"
"Left, right, up, down!"
"It's like he's not even a grownup!"
"I don't have an ounce of space..."
"He does nothing...!"
"...for just me! Just me!"
"...all day long!"
"And I swear to God..."
"He's never even heard of modesty!"
"... he poisoned me with his food!"
"I think he's trying to drive me crazy!"
"It's like he doesn't even want this marriage to work!" they both yelled, glaring heatedly at the each other.
Roderich finished scribbling the notes down upon his clipboard and then looked over to them from the top of his glasses. "Finally," he said in a his thick accent with the faintest hint of a smile, "You're arguing. Now that felt like a real married couple. You're making progress."
Not taking that well as a compliment, the two quietened down into an awkward silence, shifted further apart on the sofa, and avoided giving any eye contact to the other.
The trio of friends rested against upon a bench, looking out onto the busy street in front of them. Car after car zoomed by along with their confidence. After their last plan failed badly, it was becoming harder and harder to think of better plans that would guarantee them success. Sadly, in their desperation, they were beginning to tend beyond the legal boundaries.
"We could kidnap him until the hearing." Antonio beamed. "He could stay at my place."
He didn't notice the identical expressions of disbelief his friends gave him. If this was the best plan they could come up with then Arthur was clearly winning and that only made them sulk more. Time was ticking on. They only had a few more weeks until the hearing and, at this rate, Arthur would be walking away with either $1.5 million or the whole thing if he could come up with a idea before them.
"Oh!" Gilbert sat up excited and punched the air. "I got it! We make it look like he gave you some kind of disease!" Removing his phone from his pocket, he began to dial a number eagerly. "I can have a vial of crabs here in 30 minutes." He too didn't notice the expression of disgust Francis was giving him. "First, we give them to you, and then, you know, we get somebody to give them to him so it looks like he gave them to you..." He trailed off and lowered his phone down.
"You really hadn't thought that one through, had you?" Francis rolled his eyes. There was no why he would sink that low into giving himself an infection. This body was like a temple to the gods and could not be vandalised so crudely!
"I'll give him the crabs easily," Antonio volunteered, "There are loads at the beach -"
"No more ideas from you," Francis said sharply.
"I've got it! It's perfect!" Gilbert stood up and motioned for Francis to do the same. "This is great. Ready?" Without further warning, Gilbert punched Francis squarely on the nose, making the Frenchman cry out in pain and stumble back, clutching the bench to avoid falling down.
His nose was throbbing with pain. It was sheer luck it didn't break but he could taste blood trickling down to his lip. What kind of monster would hit a guy's perfect little nose! "What are you doing?!"
"Relax!" Gilbert pulled Francis' hand away from his face, looking rather impressed at the blood smear. "Stay with me on this one!"
The next punch was a punch too far. Antonio watched from the bench as the two began to wrestle and fight. Francis was attempting to claw out Gilbert's eyes while the other yelled and tried to knock the hands away so he could punch again. Seeing blood, Antonio stood up and easily yanked the two apart. Francis squirmed to break free of his grip so he could continue getting his revenge.
"Damn it!" Gilbert swore, cupping his bruised jaw and backing away. "You don't get it!"
Arthur was smiling pleasantly upon the sofa. Francis still hadn't arrived and the counsellor was checking the clock and growing more irritated with each passing minute. To keep himself amused, Arthur had his phone out and was playing a game of solitude when there was a weak knock upon the door.
Francis stepped inside slowly wearing a large pair of black sunglasses. It would have been ignored if Francis hadn't co-ordinated his outfit so the sunglasses didn't stand out so much. Instead of his usual cocky stride, he flinched when he sat down on the sofa and eased away from his husband. With the counsellor's attention completely on him, Francis removed his glasses slowly and kept his gaze on his lap in shame (and not all of it was forced). His right eye was supporting a large black bruise.
"Francis, what happened to your face?"
Nervously fiddling with his glasses, Francis glanced over to the still smiling Arthur and then back down at his lap. "I fell," he said meekly.
"You fell?"
"Oui..." Francis gave him a weak smile, adding a few tears to his eyes for a more realistic effect. "I hit my head on a doorknob. A few times. I fall a lot these days. I'm just..." His voice strained. "I'm so clumsy."
"Francis, are you sure that's what happened to you? Sure someone else didn't do this to you?"
Francis gave Arthur another nervous glance and then broke down into well-practiced tears. "I deserve it!" he choked, "I'm supposed... I'm supposed to line up the hand towels just so, and I didn't... I didn't do it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Then he said, "You put that toilet seat down or I will put you down! I'll stick your head in there and I will make it stay!"
He looked at Arthur again who didn't bat an eyelid the entire speech. Instead, Arthur turned his phone around to show a clear video recording of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. The latter two were taking turns to punch Francis in the face, making him stumble back in all directions.
"Mon dieu!"
"What? He's gotta make it look real so it seems like he was beating you!"
"Not that real!"
"That sucker's gonna show!"
How Arthur managed to record the mock fight was beyond him. Was Arthur now suddenly a spy? Francis flinched for real from the sudden angry aura coming from the counsellor and gave him a small smile. "Let's get back to therapy," he suggested, placing the glasses away.
Arthur just got back from a long exhausting day from work when he heard the house phone go off. Prioritising his cup of tea over answering it, he left the phone to switch to voice mail. It was probably another love message from one of Francis' many girl friends. It pissed him off at how popular Francis was. Thankfully, they were all taking the hint one by one that he was no longer on the market.
"Hi, you've reached the happy couple.
We can't come to the phone right now because we're busy loving each other.
And making our marriage work!
Leave a message!"
That voice mail still made him cringe. He couldn't remember whose idea it had been but both attempted to make it sound so genuine that it came off as an ugly type of cheesy.
"Hi. This is Annette calling from Dr. Edelstein's office."
Cursing, Arthur abandoned the kettle and hurried over to the phone, picking it up in time before Annette could continue. "Hello?"
"Mr Kirkland-Bonnefoy?"
He detested that name too. Grinding his teeth, Arthur answered with a forced pleasant confirmation, "Yes."
"The doctor needed to cancel today's session and he was wondering if you could do Friday?"
"Umm, give me a minute." Pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear, Arthur looked through his diary. Most of his days were filled with extra shifts at work (for promotion and avoiding Francis purposes). "I can do anything after 3pm."
"The doctor can do 4pm."
"Perfect."
"See you then."
Hanging up, Arthur made a note in the diary then went back to his neglected kettle and wondered if he would be decent enough to tell Francis about the changed session. It would serve the bastard right if he didn't turn up.
But he already knew. When Annette tucked her phone away, she gave Francis a warm smile. "He brought it."
Francis kissed her cheeks. "Merci beaucoup!" He repeated over and over again as he hurried off to get himself ready for the on-coming session.
Francis could hear Arthur singing from the bathroom when he slipped quietly into the flat. Surprising, the Brit could sing well (even if it was that horrible noise called rock or punk or whatever its name was nowadays). Since the bathroom door was removed, Arthur had placed up a blanket across the doorway. It made Francis smirk.
Tiptoeing quietly across the floor, Francis picked up his bags and notes from the previous session and hurried out before Arthur could hear him. If Arthur was to catch on, Francis would need a head start. It was the door unintentionally slamming behind him that made Arthur turn down the radio. "Hello?" he called out. "Is that you frog-face?"
Highly suspicious to why Francis would be creeping across his own home, Arthur climbed out of the bath and placed a towel around his waist. Leaving a trail of water behind him, Arthur brushed the blanket aside and looked around. The rooms looked perfectly normal. Then Arthur noticed something in the corner of his eye. Outside, he could see Francis trying to flag down a taxi and failing.
He looked too desperate to get to his destination for it to be normal. Frowning, Arthur picked up the phone and made a phone call.
"Dr Edelstein speaking."
"Hi, this is Arthur Kirkland-Bonnefoy. I got a phone call from Annette saying that our session was cancelled today. I just wanted to double-check that."
"Your session is definitely still on. And any absence is considered contempt of court."
"It is?" Arthur asked darkly.
A taxi finally stopped in front of him. Sighing in relief, Francis opened the door only to be roughly shoved to the side. "Arsehole! Trying to get me to miss therapy!" Arthur yelled, climbing into the car instead. The driver didn't seem to care. "75th Riverside and step on it!"
With Francis knocking on the window, trying to get in, the driver pressed down his foot and the taxi went off without him. Cursing loudly, Francis gave chase.
Arthur didn't get very far. A few turns later and they were stuck in a full on traffic jam. Swearing about his rotten luck, Arthur moved around in the back seat to get a better look at any short-cuts they could take. "Is there any way around this?" he asked impatiently.
"Does it look like there is a way around this?"
Swearing again, Arthur fell back into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. This was stupid. Of all the times to be stuck in traffic! At this rate Francis - There was a short rap upon his window and, glancing to the side, he saw Francis skating pass several cars on a skateboard. He was mockingly waving as he passed them.
That bastard!
Abandoning the vehicle, Arthur jumped out and ran over to a stall by the side of the wall. Collecting up a large bag of oranges, he tossed a few notes over to the owner and gave chase after his husband.
Francis was maneuvering between the cars with ease. In his prime, he was a parkour champion so it was barely an effort to find a path through. Until he felt something splat against the back of his head. Weaving between other cars to avoid another hit, he saw several oranges narrowly avoid him (and setting off a couple of alarms). Then a second orange knocked into the side of his head - sending him down onto another fruit stand with a sharp yell of surprise.
Laughing, Arthur ran past and tossed the last orange directly into Francis' groin and sprinted off. There was a small tour bus parked to the side with the tour guide stating they were heading towards the central park - just where he needed to go. Jumping on, he sank back down into his seat on the top deck, still laughing at the comical sight of Francis' doubling over with orange peel in his hair and face.
"Is this seat taken?"
Yelling in surprise, Arthur jumped at the sight of the Frenchman inches away from him. The surprise quickly changed back into annoyance as Francis purposely crushed him against the seat in attempt to get to the one beside him. "Excusez-moi ~"
"You're so immature!" Arthur yelled, pressing his feet against Francis and crushing him against the railings. "Go away! Jump off!"
"Ow! That really hurt! You're hurting me!"
"And here we are, Central Park. Yes, isn't it beautiful? Half an hour, people. That's 30 minutes for those on the metric system," the tour guide announced, only to be pushed aside as Arthur sprinted off the bus with Francis right behind him.
Dashing between the various groups having picnics, Arthur could see Francis closing in on him. Picking up a baguette from one group, he turned around and sharply swung it into Francis' stomach. Stumbling, Francis seized another baguette and took arms in the fierce bread battle. Arthur dodged a blow and broke the bread on top of Francis' head then dashed on ahead again while he recovered. Francis' baguette was thrown after him but missed, making Francis curse too and sprint after. Catching up, Francis shoved Arthur into the bushes and laughed as the Englishman emerged with twigs and berries in his hair.
There was a short cut though. Francis headed straight there and stopped before a large wall. Parkour skills could manage that easily! But he had barely gotten a few steps up when Arthur grabbed his foot and yanked him down roughly, skinning Francis' well-manicured hands in the process.
"Idiot!" Arthur yelled, running off to go around as their wild chase continued to the alarm of many around them.
The doors to the counselling room flew open and in toppled to quarreling couple. Still trying to pull the other back, they grabbed feet and shirts and wrestled until, finally, they collapsed upon the sofa in a tangled heap. Too exhausted to fight anymore, they simply laid there and panted for air.
Seeing the horrified expression of their counsellor, as Roderich observed their filthy and exhausted states with numerous leaves in their hair then wrote on his clipboard, Francis and Arthur exchanged a glance and then broke into side-splitting laughter.
