{A/N: For those of you sensitive, this contains physical FrUK}

Go Your Own Way

September 19, 2008

Despite how much time Arthur and Francis were forced to spend together in Paris, they didn't find themselves alone until almost two weeks after their initial meeting.

Alfred and Toris were busy with filming and other such related things and weren't expected to be done until late. Monique had an underground gambling thing and resolutely kicked Francis out for the night, and Feliks took pity on his soul and invited him along for his and Arthur's bar crawl, but left them at the third one, complaining of sleepiness.

So that was how they found themselves drunk, together, and in a foreign city with no distracting obligations.

It wasn't a surprise that by the time the bartender kicked them out, Arthur was almost draped over Francis, slurring incomprehensible Welsh into his neck. Francis held him close with an arm around his waist as he walked in what he thought was the direction of Arthur's hotel, twisting his fist over his nose at any curious looks from passersby, who sighed and nodded in understanding.

When Arthur started biting his neck, though, he ducked them into a delivery alley behind a row of stores and pushed him against the wall, tugging at his short hair with long fingers while Arthur reciprocated eagerly, all teeth and tongue and neither would say that they missed this, the vicious island they only ever found with each other.

Francis pressed against Arthur, quick hands sliding down his neck, sides, under his shirt. Arthur cursed into his mouth and pulled his tongue with his teeth, wrenching at Francis's hair hard enough to hurt. Francis knew Arthur's body far too well; his fingertips trailed up the dips of his ribs as he kissed Arthur back just as eagerly, just as painfully.

When his hands got far up enough that he could press the heels over them over Arthur's chest and the fabric bunched under his arms slightly painfully, Arthur broke away from Francis's mouth with a gasping cry and turned his head to the side. Francis took it as an invitation to attack his jaw, his neck, not really leaving marks unless you looked closely.

"Fah-Francis," Arthur gasped, and the not-rightness of the tone broke through Francis's alcohol haze. He pulled back from his neck to gaze at Arthur, whose eyes were clenched too tightly, cheeks wet with both of their saliva and a little bit of tears.

Francis let his hands fall, pulling the shirt with them, and rested them lightly on Arthur's hips. "Yes, my dear?"

"Peidiwech ah gaelw mi fodi." Francis sighed and turned his face away from the wall with a gentle hand, even though he kept his eyes shut.

"English or French, cher, not whatever that nasty tongue is."

"Ei fodi yen geymeraeg!" Francis waited, and Arthur trembled a little between him and the wall. "I can't do this anymore." He finally opened his eyes, pupils dilated and a little bloodshot, and Francis saw insecurity and a little fear. He rubbed softly at Arthur's cheek with the hand cupping his face.

"It's because of Alfred, isn't it?" Arthur bit his lip and looked down and to the side. Francis sighed again and let the mood die, stepping back and unpinning him from the wall. "Come, let's walk."

They stepped out of the alleyway together, Francis's shoes and the occasional pedestrian and car the only sound for a while as he waited for Arthur to get his thoughts in order and he himself felt the alcohol slowly drain from his system.

"We both knew that this… arrangement we had couldn't last forever," Arthur began after a few blocks, voice raspy and low. Francis looked at him to see him watching his feet carefully, and a smile tugged at his lips.

"I don't even remember making the conditions for this 'arrangement', as you so tastefully phrase it."

Arthur snorted but went on, "And that didn't bother me before, when I was- I was unattached and you were, well, you, and we knew we would never care for each other that way, so if no one got hurt, it was all right, right?" His eyes flicked over to Francis's, searching for agreement, approval, something. Francis smiled and nodded slightly, even though he was getting the distinct feeling of being dumped. "But now, I – damn it, it just feels dirty, and - that's not saying you're dirty!" he covered quickly, and Francis wished he had that on tape for when Arthur was sober. "I just feel like I'm fucking cheating on him, and we're not even-" He trailed off, kicking at a lamppost as they passed by and stayed on his feet with only minor wobbling. It seemed he was starting to sober up a little as well.

Francis stopped watching Arthur's face change and looked ahead instead. It didn't hurt his softer side so much. "That wouldn't be the first time someone's told me that." Arthur snorted, then laughed, and Francis smiled and joined in.

A block or so ahead, they could start to make out the signs for the hotel.

"Alfred's young, but his is a good heart," Francis said. "Give him time and he'll come to you."

Arthur laughed, although it was much bitterer than before, and it almost choked into a sob. "I know. God knows I tell myself that enough."

He paused for thought. "He adores you, you know that, right?"

"What?"

"Don't tell me you're that blind, cher." Arthur stared blankly at him, and he sighed dramatically. "Have you honestly not noticed how affectionate he is with you?"

"But… he's like that with everyone."

Francis nodded and shrugged at once. "To a degree, yes, but with you… it's different." His callous, slightly bitter side kept him from putting that 'different' into more words out loud, but his softer side said that Alfred looked at grumpy, unpleasant Arthur like he was the only person in the world.

He'd let Arthur figure that out for himself, however. Just because it was sickeningly romantic didn't mean that he had to help them with every step of the way.

"Oh. Well… thank you." They'd reached the hotel entrance and stopped to the side of the door. Francis stepped in front of him and held his shoulder and his eyes.

"Arthur, I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely." He nodded with those freakishly big green eyes, and Francis continued, "Most of the time I despise you, but I have never wished you chronic ill. If this is what you want, then I won't stand in your way, because, God knows why, but I've inexplicably become fond of you." He stood up a little on his toes to press a kiss to his forehead. "I hope that he makes you happy."

Arthur ducked his head in the nod that used to shake his hair in front of his eyes. "He does."

"Then I wish you all the best." He stepped back. "Now go before I regret being nice to you."

Arthur grinned. "Thanks, Francis." He turned and surreptitiously wiped at his forehead as he pushed through the door. Francis watched him go, then ran a hand through his hair and decided he'd had far too much thinking for the night and headed towards the metro station to go home himself.

{A/N: And that, my friends, is called a bait and switch.

This is another chapter I've been looking forward to writing since before I started writing this. Unlike many USUK fans (and probably most of you guys) I find FrUK fascinating in a relationship, just not a romantic one. This is just me expressing that belief.

Also Francis you are perfect never change}