The next morning, Arthur awoke in Francis' bed, almost entirely forgetting the incident that lead him there. He panicked for just a moment but remembered with guilt exactly what he had done. He relaxed when he felt an arm wrap around him and leaned into the touch. The Brit rubbed his eyes innocently and a yawn escaped from his lips.
Francis found all of this rather amusing and chuckled at the sight of his new friend's almost childlike expressions. "That was pretty adorable, you know. I never thought someone like you could make such cute expressions."
Arthur jolted in the other man's grasp, his face now flushed with embarrassment. "Shut up! I'm not 'cute', I'm a grown man."
Francis, on the other hand, wanted to see how flustered Arthur really could get. He was having too much fun with this. "That little blush on your face really isn't helping your predicament, you know." He said with a playful poke to the Englishman's cheek.
Deciding that he would take advantage of the situation as well, Arthur reached over to bite the finger that had been mercilessly poking him.
This only made Francis smirk. "I see someone is feeling better?"
Arthur sighed, and averted his eyes out of guilt. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm s-sorry…"
The blue – eyed gentleman stared deep into the green orbs of his new friend. "All is forgiven. All that matters is that you are all right. Shit… we were supposed to meet with my mother later this morning. I know she'll kill me, but I'll have to call her back and cancel. Also, I want you to call the number of the therapist that Erika gave you last night."
Arthur sighed and nodded his head. "Okay, I'll do that today. But… we don't have to completely cancel on your mother… I'm not opposed to meeting her on another day." The Brit said while nervously fidgeting with his pajama sleeves.
Francis' eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "R-really?! You want to meet that woman?"
Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, she doesn't sound that bad, really."
The Frenchman shrugged. "Okay, but it's your funeral. Don't say I didn't warn you, mon ami."
With a deep breath and shaky hands, Francis Bonnefoy reached over for the phone on the dresser to the side of his bed and dialed the number he feared the most with sweaty fingers.
"Dude, I can't believe you're so afraid of your own mother!" Commented Arthur, with laughter that filled the room.
Francis succeeded in covering his mouth as the phone on the other line rang. After a few seconds, his mother picked up.
Arthur's eyes slanted mischievously, and licked the Frenchman's hand, who was quick to remove it from Arthur's mouth in disgust.
"Hi, maman! It's Francy. I'm sorry to say that Arthur and I won't be able to make it today, my little lamb chop has come down with a cold."
The Brit shuddered at his new nickname. "Stupid frog!" He whispered under his breath.
"But we would love to still see you sometime this week when he is feeling better. Arthur and I are both off on Tuesday, does that work for you?" Said Francis, hanging his head low as he waited for his mother's reply.
"Of course, it does, dearie." Answered Mrs. Bonnefoy. "And please take care of the little angel. Put him on the phone again, I want to speak to our little lamb chop."
Francis blew a kiss into the phone. "All right, maman. Love you."
"And you know I will always love you, my little croissant. You be a good boy, Francy. Mommy will see you on Tuesday."
"Sure thing, mommy. Here's 'lamb chop'". Stated Francis with a turd eating smirk as he handed Arthur the phone.
"Hello… Francis' mother?" The Brit asked as he faked a hoarse voice into the phone so that it sounded as though he had a cold.
"Oh, lamb chop. I told you to call me mommy, remember? Anyways, Francy better be taking care of you. He is being a good boyfriend, isn't he?"
Arthur almost chocked at the word 'boyfriend'. Sure, him and Francis were bonding under strange circumstances, but he wasn't sure if they would even consider each other friends yet.
However, the Frenchman gave Arthur a look as though he desperately wanted him to play along with his mother, so Arthur complied.
The green – eyed blond gave a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yes, mommy. Of course, he is. Your son is truly the best." Not even a week ago, Arthur would have barfed if he was forced to call Francis 'the best' at anything.
"I should be fine in a couple days, I think it's just a seasonal thing, with winter approaching and all." Arthur lied.
Mrs. Bonnefoy giggled. "My, my, Francis. Even with a cold, your boy's accent sure is sexy."
Since his mother was on speaker phone, Francis' and Arthur's expressions paled with shock.
"Mommy! You're scaring him away! Gotta go, Arthur threw up, bye." The Frenchman said in a haste and just as quickly hung up the phone. "My god… she's something else." He shook his head back and forth a few times as though he'd been trying to erase the conversation from his mind, but to no avail.
"She cares about you, you know." Arthur said with sad eyes.
Francis noticed the vast change in Arthur's eyes, but the Brit tore his gaze away from him and opted to stare at the bedsheets instead.
"Anyways, like I promised, I'll make that appointment." Arthur offered with a sad smile.
Francis nodded and squeezed his friend's arm supportively. "Okay, and don't worry about your appointments interfering with work. You and I can let Alfred know together if you'd like."
The green – eyed man nodded and swallowed an invisible lump in his throat.
As Francis was about to leave the room, he turned back to Arthur for one more moment. "Oh, Arthur?"
"Hmm?" Mumbled the man in the bed as he was just about to dial the number on the business card.
"If your mother, or any of your family members don't care about you… they're jackasses."
Arthur allowed himself to smile, genuinely. "Thanks. And, don't worry about your mother. I really do like her, she really is… quite the unique woman."