A/N: Back pretty soon with the next installment of Spring Break! Of course, this chapter marks the foursome's final day in Paris. Thanks for reading, guys! And remember, I own nothing! Nothing much to warn for this chapter, just a lot of kissing (oh my!) and some language here and there. Enjoy!

Neuf, vendredi

There was an absence of warmth when Arthur woke up in the mess of Francis' bed sheets. He had expected his French lover to be there, snug tight against his flesh where Arthur last remembered him after their umpteenth time making love.

Sitting up to stretch and yawn, he spotted the bedroom door cracked open, the jumbled noise of his friends echoing from the living room out past the hall. Before he could even think of stepping out of bed, Francis perked his head into the room, a warm smile infecting the aura of the room.

"Bon matin," he sang, waltzing into the room to plant a kiss on Arthur's forehead. "We are cleaning right now, and I already packed your things."

Slightly baffled by the string of news, Arthur tilted his head, as if to process the information better. "O-oh?" Of course, it was then when he realized they were flying back to the States that night. "Oh! That's right," he said, tempting to expose a leg from the sheet to escape his comfortable position.

Francis seemed to disagree with Arthur's decision, keeping the Briton in bed for some late-morning kisses. "I have your outfit for today all set," he whispered against moist lips, patting an area of the bed now covered by a pair of ripped jeans and a printed T-shirt. "And there is some breakfast left over for you in the kitchen."

In one blink of Arthur's tired eyes, Francis was already out in the hallway. A gentle smile spread across his face, along with the warmth of blush, and his eyes focused on the clothing lying on the bed. He grabbed the t-shirt, and before slipping it on over his head, took in a deep breath of the cloth, reveling in the scent of Francis.

Arthur was out in the kitchen soon after his wake-up call, bags of trash lined by the door. "Those can't all from the party last night," he said, sitting down at the table, welcomed by a hot cup of tea.

Zooming down the spiral stairs with two more bags in his hands, Gilbert added to the collection by the door. "Nah, from the Monday, too."

"You left upstairs a mess for four days?"

Gilbert glared at his friend. "Well, what would be the point in cleaning? Anyway, we're done here. So eat up, because we're heading out!"

"Heading out? Our flight's not until later tonight," Arthur said, a plate of breakfast placed before him on the table and a kiss planted atop his head.

"Gilbert wants the four of us to see Paris one last time," Francis explained. "Together."

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The limo let the foursome out onto the busy streets of Paris, abundant with Springtime tourists and regular citizens alike. There was a slight chill in the late March air, but with his jacket and the arm of Francis around him, Arthur had little to worry about his temperate comfort.

They came upon a quaint street lined with little family-owned shops and a well-known pâtisserie, which received quite a welcome from the four teens. A sampling led to a purchase and the four shared a flaky, pastry desert; a dollop of whipped frosting managed to find Arthur's nose, but a clean sweep from Francis' tongue cleaned it right off.

Fully embarrassed by the laughs from his friends and stares from other shop patrons, the young Briton stormed out of the shop, standing on the street corner as if he knew no one.

"Arthur," Francis called, an innocent laugh tickling his voice. "Désolé, I…"

"No! Don't," Arthur yelled, a pout resting heavy beneath bright red cheeks. "That was completely inappropriate, and you should know better than to…"

Arthur's scolding was cut short, by another sort of action that could warrant a yell from the Briton. Francis' lips locked Arthur's shut in a deep, sincere kiss, the French teen's arm wrapped tight around his lover's frame, in case the bushy-browed youth fell to the ground.

"I am sorry," he whispered, a delicate voice stopping Arthur's thought process.

Shaking his head, for lack of anything to say, Arthur looked up, complete lost within Francis' gaze. "It's… like we never broke up."

Somberness fell upon the two, Francis holding Arthur's head tight to his chest. "I… have not yet apologized for what I did to you last year," he said, his lips moving lightly over Arthur's messy hair. "It was completely unfair of me, and very cruel. I am so sorry, mon cher."

Arthur looked up, tears streaming from his bright green eyes. "Don't put all the blame on yourself, Francis."

"Non," he said, looking down into those watery orbs with a sense of determination. "You were going through such a stressful time. I merely got annoyed, jealous even, and… I took your words the wrong way. That was very selfish of me, sleeping with someone else was…"

Silence broke Francis' words and hung in the air around the two, reminding them both of the current situation.

"What's to become of you and Alfred?"

As expected from their dear friend, Gilbert's voice pierced the air of the street, shaking the two sinners from their state. "Hey! Assholes! Hurry up, I wanna see the fucking Eiffel Tower!"

Chuckling, Francis lead Arthur down the street towards their two companions, whispering gently into his ear, "Best not keep him waiting."

Arthur smirked, leaning into Francis' hold and shouting back towards his friend. "Must you always be so rude, Gilbert?"

The German-born teen laughed, pulling out a camera from his pocket and flashing a signature smile. "I just want some pictures, man!"

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A sufficient crowd of people greeted the foursome at the bottom of the tower, lines of people eager to take the lifts up to the observation decks above. Arthur kept his eyes up, focusing on the second level of the Eiffel Tower. He smiled and brought himself in closer to Francis, pecking his cheek with a kiss. "This might just be my favorite place in the world," he whispered, remembering that chilly night from 10 years back.

Francis chuckled and looked over towards Gilbert. "There's quite a line, mon ami. I'm afraid you won't get your pictures."

Gilbert let out a peculiar type sound, approaching the lovers with his camera. "I don't wanna go up; I want a picture from down here."

"Down here?"

Nodding, the silver-haired teen ran to a random spot outside the shell of the tower's feet, dragging Antonio with him. His smile could be spotted from afar, and with an obnoxious arm movement motioning them towards him, Arthur and Francis gave up trying to figure out Gilbert; that seemed to be the logical thing to do.

"I like this spot," he said, glancing up as the iron structure stood majestically before him. He brought out hands, both thumbs and forefingers stretched out to form a box, framing his vision and smiling brightly. "Oh, hell yes. Okay! Just… stay there, okay?"

Arthur watched as his friend randomly ran around to different groups of people, his arms waving about and his mouth moving in words and laughs. He returned, accompanied by a couple, both of whom spoke in prominent Mid-Western American accents, carrying his camera

"Okay," he said, returning to his friends, planting himself beside Arthur and wrapping an arm around the teen.

The couple started the count off from three, and Arthur laughed, amused by the antics of his best friend. "Gilbert, you truly amaze me."

"…two…"

"It's what I do best!"

"…one…"

"Arthur," Francis said lightly, turning the Briton's attention to his other side. At the sound of the couple yelling "cheese", Arthur was stolen into a kiss.

Gilbert and Antonio burst into laughter while the couple stood baffled, Gilbert's camera still in their possession.

"That's fucking brilliant! Thanks, guys," Gilbert said, running towards the couple to snatch his camera back. Playing with the buttons on the digital device, he returned with the camera boasting what Gilbert considered The Greatest Photo Ever Taken: Gilbert and Antonio, framing the candid kissing duo, in front of the world's most iconic figure. "Holy shit, I love it!"

Between his attacks towards Francis, for the day's second spur-of-the-moment embarrassment, Arthur chanced a glance at the picture on Gilbert's camera; he found it hard to disagree with his friend's opinion of the photo.

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There were a few more stops here and there in the city, but the four teens eventually made it back to the limo, which brought them to the airport. Arthur's "dreaded" week was finally coming to a close, and although the experience was much better than he had been prepared, his mind still juggled between "right" and "wrong"; Alfred and Francis.

After the long process of checking in luggage and going through security, the four traveled to their gate and waited to board their plane; luckily, Arthur and Francis had plenty of time to distract themselves from the wait with sweet-nothings and soft kisses. They were eventually dragged out of their "vomit-worthy" trance, as stated by Gilbert, and dragged onto the plane.

Arthur couldn't remember much of his flight back to the U.S.; whether it lasted five minutes, 8 hours, or 20 years, he was content in Francis' arms, dozing in and out of sleep and affectionate euphoria.

...to be continued.

Thanks for reading and sticking with me! Just two more chapters, guys. Plus, a possible epilogue. ;D

~erbby