It was 11PM the previous day when their plane finally landed. Having exited the plane with slightly sore backs and wobbling feet, Francis and Arthur were immediately blown off by the heat. "God, I'm still used to the plane's air-conditioning," Arthur said, gasping for air in the stifling climate, while they walked among other tourists inside to the airport. "There's way too many people in here," Francis complained, unbuttoning the first 4 buttons of his shirt. "Now where are those two morons?" Antonio and Gilbert had arrived a day earlier and had promised to take care of the hotel business. They spotted them on the far right, hitting on a few girls at the bar. Just when they were almost with them, the women left. "Great going," Antonio hit Gilbert against the back of his head. "Relax, we'll be here for at least a week, you'll get your chance to dust off the spiderwebs from your wiener. Oh, hey guys! Enjoyed your flight?" Gilbert asked happily, häving noticed the two. "Not really," Francis murmured and yawned. "I am so tired, I hope you got us a nice hotel with great beds." "Of course," Antonio grinned. "Nothing too expensive, right?" Arthur asked worriedly. "Not at all," the Prussian added and the four of them headed towards the parking lot, where Antonio's rental car was parked. "It's so hot," Francis said after having lifted the luggage to the trunk and having sat in the back with Arthur. "Really?" Antonio asked, surprised and turned out to the highway. As a typical Spaniard, he was also accustomed to warmer climates and both he and Gilbert were wearing far lighter clothes than Arthur and Francis were. "It's just like I imagined it to be," Arthur said to himself when watching the city glow, the orange-blue sky with mountains in the background. "Man, we've scouted so many great places already," Gilbert laughed having turned down all the windows. "This is going to be so awesome." Arthur was happy his idea was liked by his friends, although the idea came on an impulse. He was really glad he had met Francis, because he was sure he wouldn't be in Rio at the moment if not. "It's not only about Rio though," he thought when looking at Francis who was currently trying to stretch himself in the small car, "it's him in general." Francis noticed Arthur looking at him and asked if something's wrong. Arthur shook his head. "I just wanted to say "thank you"." Francis smiled. "No need to thank me, Angleterre." Antonio and Gilbert gave each other a meaningful look in the front and tried hard not to laugh.
After 45 minutes of driving they pulled up in front of a musty-looking place after having turned off from the main street in the center of the city. "That's... a cheap motel, not a nice hotel," Francis said staring at it, having stepped out of the car. "Oh, come on," Antonio pouted, "it's a charming little place! Trust me, you'll understand when we're inside!" The Londonians took their luggage and stepped in with the other two. The lobby looked just like from a movie: dusty, shabby, worn-out and slightly dilapidated. "Who would've thought that Gilbert is fluent in Portuguese," Antonio murmured when the light-haired man went to speak with the old tanned woman at the reception. "Well, here's your key," he tossed it to Arthur after having returned. "You're staying in the same room," he answered Francis' questioning look. "So are we, come on, we'll show you where we're staying," Antonio said and headed up the stairs, the others following him. Passing narrow and murky corridors, they stopped in front of the room #14. Antonio opened it and stepped in with Gilbert, Arthur and Francis just checked the tiny room over the doorway. Like everything in this hotel, this room was also musty and looked like it was going to fall apart. Dirty wooden flooring, tacky wallpaper peeling off the walls and plaster crumbling from the ceiling, two dirty windows on one wall, two beds with striped spring-mattresses, bed-linen neatly folded on it, against the other wall. The door leading to the bathroom was in the forth wall and the whole room was lit by a single ready-to-die-out ceiling-lamp. All in all, it was a plain-looking room, perfect if you were tired and not caring where, you just wanted to sleep for a few hours. "Your room is in the exact same condition," Gilbert said, standing in the middle of their room. Francis sighed. "I guess that'll do for now," he said and wished them both good night. "See you tomorrow at 10 at the lobby!" Gilbert chuckled when Arthur closed the door. They continued along the long corridor and went up another set of stairs before arriving at room #22. After some trouble with the lock, they finally managed to open the door. They stared into the room dumbfounded, still not entering. "Of course," Francis cursed and stormed off back to room #14, leaving Arthur in the dark hallway. An elderly woman wanted to pass, so he took their suitcases and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He opened the windows to air the dusty room and sighing, he sat on the king-sized bed.
"Such morons," Francis cursed as he was changing his clothes. "Well, at least the receptionist was willing to compensate it for us with an extra blanket and pillows," Arthur replied, looking out the window to see children run to their homes after the whole day of playing in the city. It was a slightly poor neighborhood, everyone earned enough just to get by. Although Rio de Janeiro is known as a thriving city, it has its own ghettos and slums too, as do many cities. "I hope Bosey is okay," he said quietly after noticing a few dogs rummage through the bins. "Where did you leave him?" Francis asked and hopped on to the bed, the springs creaking under the weight of a man. "This would make a poor motel for a honeymoon," he said jokingly and Arthur, having already changed his clothes, flicked off the light and joined him. "I left Bosey with Scottie. He's easy enough for my brother to handle." The dark room was dimly lit by the streetlights and Arthur could feel Francis' presence next to him. He turned his back to him and grabbed most of the pillows, since the Frenchman had said he only needed one. "Why do you need so many of them?" Francis asked quietly, trying to glimpse at Arthur. "I just... like to sleep with a lot of pillows," he only replied and wished him good-night. After half an hour Francis was sure Arthur had fallen asleep, judging by the steady breathing coming from his right. Cautiously, not to cause any noise, he sat up and stretched himself over the Brit to see what he was doing with the pillows. He was surprised to see that most of them were set alongside his body as a blockage and he was also hugging two of them. "It must be the feeling of loneliness," he thought to himself sadly, watching Arthur sleep. On a sudden impulse he gently rid Arthur of all the pillows and laid back down. "What if…" he thought, breathing a little heavily. After a short while Arthur started shifting in his sleep and turned around to face Francis. His heart pounding, the Frenchman kept looking and waiting what he would do next. Slowly but surely, as if sensing the extra heat through his sleep, he started to make his way towards Francis. A little while later he was snuggling against Francis' chest, breathing slowly and calmly. Francis felt his face turn red when he felt the Brit's warmth against him. His heart beating fast, he put his arms around the other man, holding him closer. "The things I do for a senise of closeness," he thought to himself when he closed his eyes, his head resting against Arthur's.