A/N: There's another poem in this chapter, so reminder that hates special formatting and just gets rid of stanzas.

Chapter 16: Being a Gentleman, a Punk and Everything Inbetween

Francis's presence at the gig almost surprised Arthur. Despite the nerves he had about Francis being around after whatever happened between them, the work of prepping with the band and performing let thoughts of Francis fade behind the music. He performed to the best of his ability with Vlad and a few friends. It was mostly easy covers and a few songs they were still figuring out. His voice only cracked a few times as he fought the mental hesitation of sharing his own lyrics with the world, albeit a mostly empty bar kind of world, but a world all the same.

As he sweated and belted, he didn't even notice Francis. He barely noticed anyone.

He loved every second of it, despite knowing what was happening wasn't good. But for once, it wasn't thoughts about morals, but more about quality. And at this point in his life, he couldn't give a damn about quality.

Francis found him afterward and shared too many embarrassing and over-indulgent compliments. The rest of the band didn't get much of a chance to tease Arthur before he got Francis to leave with him.

Arthur expertly maneuvered them through backways to avoid crowds and get to a residential area faster. The walk may have ended up longer, but neither minded. Arthur listened to, more than conversed, with Francis as he enthused about the evening and the possible talents of Arthur. He started straying to more specific topics jumping from one thing to another when Arthur scoffed.

"I swear to God, I'll push you into the next bush we pass if you try to say one more thing about how I look tonight." Francis laughed; Arthur scowled. Vlad was very serious about the appearance of the group as a whole, so he forced some of his own clothes on Arthur, saying something about the singer needing to carry the look and exemplify the sound. Arthur actually enjoyed the out there look that the belts and excessive eyeliner gave him, but he was unprepared for the leer from Francis, joking or not. He was expecting a laugh.

Francis calmed from Arthur's supposedly hilarious threat and added, "As much as I totally love how the black makes your eyes pop, I actually was going to ask if you're sure you wanted to go home already. If you wanted to hang out with everyone without me, I could have left."

Guilt filled Arthur, clogging his lungs, making them sink deeper into his body, crushing his stomach. "It's nothing like that."

"I'm being serious," Francis pushed.

"Think about it," Arthur said a little forcefully. He took a calming breath and continued in a steadier voice, "Is that a place I should be spending time with free reign?"

"What?"

Arthur sighed. "Think about it."

Francis stuttered his steps as realization struck. "Oh."

"Yeah," Arthur kicked at the ground bitterly. He tried to feel the pity from Francis through the silence, but it never came. Instead, Francis was simply looking ahead neutrally. For once in his life, Arthur was going to be courageous and honest. "It's why I wanted you to come. Not the only reason. Don't get me wrong: sharing this is great, but, uh, I knew you'd be helpful with it… all." Arthur finished lamely, upset that he was never good with his words when talking to Francis.

"I didn't do anything."

Arthur glared at the sidewalk. "That's the point. You don't have to." Arthur fiddled with his hair to expel nervous energy. "You make it easier to remember who I want to be. Besides, I'd rather be with you than do any of that."

"That's -"

"A lot. I shouldn't have said anything. Forget it."

"No."

Arthur tilted his head up with a deep sigh, noting the stars. "You always have to disagree, don't you?"

"Only when it sounds like you're trying to take back something important."

"Maybe it's not."

"If it's about how you feel, it's obviously important to me."

"That's only because," Arthur began to trail off awkwardly, but Francis, speaking with confidence, finished the sentence.

"Because I like you, yes."

Arthur swallowed heavily, he looked towards the ground to try to hide his eyes and the way his lips twitched into a small smile. "You say it so easily."

"It is easy to me." Francis said the words as if they weighed nothing. While all Arthur's words felt like they left his mouth just to cascade into the ground, Francis's floated up casually. They sprinkled crumbs of an unsaid second sentence: It could be for you too. Or maybe it was: It will be for you too. Time alone growing up didn't leave Arthur with a talent for reading silences.

"How long?" Arthur asked.

"A very long time."

Arthur nodded along. "That's, ah, surprising."

Francis tilted his head observing his friend. "I didn't take you for someone with that low of self-esteem."

"It's not that."

"Then?"

"I was kind of a dick for a long time."

Francis laughed. "Oh, you still are."

Arthur alleged, "Never took you for a masochist."

Francis laughed harder making him snort when trying to get air. His eyes widened at the noise, making Arthur laugh. Once he calmed down, Francis added, "You're not much of a sadist."

"My point still stands."

"Okay, I'll be honest tonight if you will." Arthur nodded in agreement and prompted for Francis to continue, "My friends have been calling it the Darcy effect I believe."

"Oh my God."

Francis gave him a sheepish grin, "Yep."

"I've been sitting clueless and everyone has known… oh my God."

Francis grinned. "Red looks good on you." He gestured at Arthur's flushed cheeks.

"Shut up, Frog." Arthur pushed a laughing Francis off the sidewalk.

They both took a moment to calm down back to a more neutral state; Arthur willing his embarrassment away.

Francis hummed, "We didn't really talk about the other night and everything."

Arthur eyed his house in the distance, ignoring how close Francis was to him, arms brushing casually. He hesitated, "I suppose we haven't."

"I'm going to hold your hand," Francis stated.

"Okay," Arthur breathed.

If there's one thing Arthur knew, it was that their hands belonged together. He bit his lip at the touch, attempting to hold back his reaction, not from shame, but, rather, from embarrassment at showing his cards so openly. Francis squeezed his hand good-naturedly. Slowly, Arthur let himself feel completely comfortable in the moment. Everything felt perfect, it felt meant to be. He cursed himself for not allowing himself these moments from the beginning. What amount of self-hatred did he have to have to deny himself the experience of comfort and sheer joy in these kinds of moments?

He swallowed. This was the point. No more denial, no more punishing himself. It was time to take what he wanted, make his own happiness.

As they neared his house, he felt Francis loosen his hand and begin to pull away. Instead of mirroring his movement like usual, Arthur tightened his hand around Francis's and sped up his walking slightly so that he dragged the other behind him. Before Francis could ask anything Arthur commented, "Come on."

He paused when they reached the tree in his back garden.

Francis smiled at the way Arthur ran his thumb over the back of his hand. "You know, I would have walked you all the way if you asked."

"I get a feeling you'd do practically anything I asked."

Francis breathed, "Ah." His face was unreadable.

Arthur inwardly cursed himself, but tried to remain steady. "That's, um, not what I meant. What I wanted to say was that it's about time I shared something with you." He slid his hand out of Francis's, stepped away and patted the tree.

"I have seen you climb the tree before."

Arthur smirked. "And now it's your turn."

Francis guffawed, "You're kidding."

"It's not that hard. You can do it, just let yourself get your hands dirty."

Francis narrowed his eyes, but Arthur didn't back down. With a sigh Francis said, "I guess I can do it if I watch you first, but, honestly, I can say goodnight down here just as well as up there."

"You're asking for incentive?"

"Arthur, it's a roof," Francis exaggerated.

Arthur hummed in thought. "Well," he took a deep breath and eyed Francis. He hardened his stance, stepped forward, grabbed Francis's shoulder and pulled him into a kiss. It was a small moment, just a brief touching of their lips, but Francis sighed contentedly as Arthur pulled away.

Arthur whispered shaky with nerves, "Something tells me you like a chase." He turned and began to climb the tree quickly and with ease. Francis watched him with wide, surprised eyes as a grin grew on his face the higher Arthur climbed.

With one swift hop, Arthur landed softly on the roof. He peered down at a beaming Francis. "Well, are you coming up or what?"

"Yep, yes, of course, I am."

Arthur laid on his stomach appreciating the show of Francis trying to maneuver up the tree copying what he remembered of Arthur's movements. Arthur directed Francis to correct him and make sure he was on the easiest path up, but made sure to take the time to appreciate the way Francis's body moved as he stretched and shifted up the tree. In much too short of a time, Arthur was coaching Francis on how to land on the roof quietly.

With a heavy thump and slight slide, Francis slammed into the roof.

"Zero for landing, but solid eight for effort."

"I can't believe you got me on a fucking roof."

"It'll be worth it trust me," Arthur stood up, "It's best to go up more, so you can lean against the house. Come on." Arthur walked his way up near to where his window was while Francis crawled slowly not nearly as comfortable with the slope. Despite his discomfort, he admired how Arthur moved around with ease and confidence.

Arthur sat with his hands behind him leaning back to enjoy the cool breeze. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed himself as Francis finally sat next to him with a huff.

Arthur patted his back in congratulations. "Mind sitting here for a second? I want to change into a less sweaty shirt. This feels disgusting."

"I can come with."

Arthur waved him off, "Nah, it'll take one second." Seeing Francis's nervous look he covered one of Francis's hands and added, "I promise I'm coming back. Just take a moment to look and appreciate all this."

"Fine."

Arthur shot him a smile, one with teeth that crinkled' his eyes. Francis starred, momentarily breathless.

After a few minutes, Arthur returned in a sweater. Francis smiled eyes tracing the odd look of fitted, old black jeans; a clean, crisp, green sweater; and smudged eyeliner. It was so Arthur and so perfect. He didn't think he had ever seen Arthur look so comfortable anywhere. Yet, somehow, sitting on a roof in the middle of the night, wearing mismatched clothes that were a cross between put-together and burnout, with smeared eyeliner and greasy hair was the epitome of the Arthur he felt he knew. Absolutely stunning.

"You pulled out a book?" Arthur sat down and tapped Emma.

Francis moved to put it back into his bag. "A little distraction from the height."

Arthur huffed, "You're doing it wrong."

"Please, enlighten me."

Arthur scooted closer. "Did you look around?"

"Yeah, and I almost got vertigo."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "God, you're dramatic."

Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Here. Let me just guide you, yeah?" Arthur smacked Francis's arm at the lack of response. "Trust me."

"Okay. Okay. Begin your," Francis waved his hand dramatically.

Arthur thought for a moment. "Close your eyes and lean back. Feel the breeze, the temperature, the way the roof feels beneath you. Listen to the calmness. No one else is out. It's just you, the city, and the night." Arthur waited as Francis did as he was told, shoulders lowering as the calm Arthur was creating took over.

Arthur took in Francis as he let him take in the moment. Francis was beautiful. He always thought so, but it was different to view him while accepting that fact wholeheartedly. Francis was absolutely beautiful. His lips were quirked despite the way his eyes were closed and face relaxed. Yellow glow from the streetlights cast his face and body in a dramatic light, highlighting the length of him from his legs to his eyelashes. Strands of hair too short to fit into his loose ponytail flickered around his face as they caught the breeze making shadows move across his defined cheekbones. In that moment, Arthur wished he was a painter so he could make Francis bathed in moonlight permanent and revisit this feeling in his chest whenever he wanted.

Arthur hesitated, "You feel it?"

Francis whispered, not moving, "Yeah, I think so."

Arthur shifted so that instead of facing Francis, he was sitting next to him. Gently, he set his hand on top of Francis's curling his fingers against the side of his hand ever so lightly.

He directed, "Now, open your eyes and look up."

Francis slowly opened his eyes, face turned towards the sky. Arthur looked up with him.

Arthur swallowed but his throat remained dry making his whisper croaky and breathless. He grasped Francis's hand. "Notice the stars. There's so much out there, so so much. And it's like being alone but surrounded by so many people all at once. And there's no one else out here feeling this, but the sky is just so large and so old and maybe somewhere at some time someone looked up in the middle of the night feeling exactly as we feel and these extinct lights we are staring at connects us. And years from now, we can look up and it will connect us back to now. No matter what happens we can see this, and we aren't alone. And just…" Arthur took a deep breath. "It's important. I can't explain it but it is. Believe me."

A hand on his face distracted him from the sky as it slowly turned his head towards Francis who was staring at him with a quirked head and open expression. Shifting, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Arthur's. If the world didn't already feel frozen around them, this would do it. He pulled back and ran his thumb over Arthur's cheek as if there were tears to brush away. They stared into each other's eyes both trying to mask shaky breaths. Arthur licked his lips, and kept talking, trying to take advantage of this rare moment of bravery to whisper out confessions.

"I come out here to write. I have for a really long time now. Sometimes on nice nights, a few it sprinkled. Once I sat here in the rain. You said my room wasn't me, but you didn't know this was a part of it. I don't, I don't know if anything I'm saying makes sense."

Francis slid his hand to the back of Arthur's neck and pulled him into another kiss, this time longer and harder. When he pulled away, he stayed close still holding Arthur and looked at him intently. "I'm in love with you."

Arthur croaked, "I love you, too."

Francis gasped out a quick breath. He rested his forehead against Arthur's and chuckled.

Arthur's eyes glanced around, not wanting to move his head but needing to see Francis's face. "You - you didn't know?"

Francis shook his head back and forth with a dry chuckle. "God, Arthur."

"I-I, Francis, I don't understand."

Francis pulled away slowly, eyes watching his hand as he slid it from Arthur's neck down his arm. Arthur vaguely wondered if Francis could feel the goosebumps through his sleeve. "Sometimes, I thought you might what with the poems. But, um, recently I wasn't sure how much you…" He shook his head again. " God, Arthur."

"You… I do. I have for a while."

Francis ran a hand through his hair, his face demonstrating the jumble in his brain. "I haven't known what to think. I felt like I was over-analyzing." He reached into his bag and pulled out the book. "I've read this a million times since you sent it to me."

" Emma?"

Francis chuckled. "No." He opened the book and took out a paper. It had the same treatment as the poem on the wall, but had been trimmed down first, so that it was a better size for a bookmark. Francis ran his hand over the words delicately, before handing over to Arthur to read.

Arthur took in each word, barely remembering writing them, but remembering putting it in his letter to Francis thinking that the other might like it as one of the first things he wrote after returning home. He mouthed as he read:

The Demolitionist

You destroy things in the most perfect way —

An unknowing demolitionist shattering barriers and fracturing foundations.

Out in the open, you flutter from place to place,

Taking stock of targets.

Passing an old run-down building, a tall target catches your eye.

Ever imposing, the pristine historical district stands in front of you.

No hesitation, you crack the foundation with expert ease,

Unknowingly,

Letting the buildings crash down on their own accord.

The booming shakes my bones,

rattling my frame.

I am terrified.

The debris settles,

And things are okay.

Things are better than ever before.

The historical buildings, ever-so-important, were the barrier all along.

I look out over the changed horizon. There's so much past the building.

So much beauty blocked by the chains of history now open for all to see.

You keep moving, your demolitionist duties over,

If only you knew they were.

I find myself wishing you would stay,

But you are not the architect.

I am.

He whispered the last line out loud. Even after he finished, he waited running his fingers over the tape, appreciating the delicate way Francis treated the things he made. He handed it back to Francis slowly. "Thank you."

Francis questioned, "Why are you thanking me?"

"The, uh, the poem was a kind of thank you. Not just as a gift but," he gestured, "the content itself."

Francis put the poem back and furrowed his brows. "The demolitionist?"

"I guess it doesn't sound as nice as I thought maybe."

"No, no, it's nice. Just… the end. I didn't know if you were saying you didn't need me around."

"Why would you think that?" Arthur flinched at how accusatory he sounded.

"I thought you were saying even if you kind of wanted me around I wasn't needed. And I mean you had some family stuff figured out, had the group and Walt. I just… kept coming around because I was unsure and selfish due to, uh, feelings."

"You're a huge fucking idiot."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "I am on a roof."

"Wha- no. That came out wrong." Arthur tapped his fingers against his legs as he tried to come up with words. "I guess, I was reflecting on my stuff. It," a sigh, "I do want you to stay."

Francis fisted his hands. "But?"

"There is no but. I was reflecting on how I needed to figure myself out and just because you helped point out problems and solutions doesn't mean I can use you to figure me out. I had to do that part."

Francis nodded slowly. Instead of acknowledging everything Arthur was saying he looked to the stars and joked, "And here I was thinking I was crazy reading myself into all your poems."

Arthur snorted.

When Francis didn't make a move to say more, Arthur grabbed his hand again. "And you still love me?"

Francis didn't hesitate. "I always will." He glanced at Arthur and added, "I know you don't…"

"I love you, Francis. Don't go putting words in my mouth."

Francis's lips quirked. "I was going to say I know you aren't in a position for this and may not feel…" He paused at the way Arthur squeezed his hand. He chuckled, "Maybe I'm being a little self-deprecating when I'm trying to be respectful."

"There are much better looks on you for sure."

Francis nodded and slowly began to laugh. Arthur joined him. After a moment their laughs turned to dry gasps, seriousness fading in. Arthur, feeling the change as it happened, shifted so that he was directly facing Francis. He quickly grabbed both of Francis's hands, effectively shutting him up. He stared at Francis's hands, noting how long his fingers were compared to his own, how they lacked callouses. He would never get over being able to grab Francis's hands; something told him Francis wouldn't either.

Still staring downward he confessed, "Do you remember when we talked about dreams and what we wanted, and I didn't really have an answer?"

"Yes."

"I know what I want now." He rubbed his fingers over Francis's palm tracing the distinct lines. He glanced up into Francis's wide eyes, silently communicating.

Stiff with anticipation, Francis murmured, "What do you want?"

Arthur swallowed and took a breath to give him strength. "I want to be with you." When Francis's only response was to widen his eyes more and stare, Arthur continued stronger, "I want to be with you, and go wherever you go. I can follow you. You can follow me. I don't give a shit as long as I can be near you. I want, fuck, I want to give you your dream and be the 'requited love' you talked about. And, and," he searched for more, "and, damn , it's what I've wanted for a long time, but was an idiot who tried to ignore it. That's," he shook their connected hands, "what I dream of."

Arthur sat back hoping Francis couldn't tell his hands trembled. Francis froze staring at him.

Squeezing their joined hands Arthur begged, "You have to say something."

Slowly Francis's face shifted from shock to elation. The smile that grew changed his entire face. His eyes flickered around Arthur's face as they shown. The grin crinkled his eyes and made his cheeks flush. Briefly, he shook his head and let out an amused huff before practically launching himself at Arthur.

Fisting Arthur's sweater tightly, he pulled him in, leaning into him so heavily Arthur had to lean back. Arthur responded immediately pulling back at Francis, using a hand in his hair to shift him to a better angle. Still pushing forwards, Francis practically crawled on Arthur who leaned back so they were fully lounging on the roof. Francis slammed a hand next to Arthur's head to keep balance and stayed leaning above Arthur. The movement brushed their hips together causing Arthur to moan, the noise only spurring Francis on more.

They continued to kiss, harshly and heavily, all the emotions from the past year breaking through into each rushed movement - into the way Francis explored Arthur's mouth, the way Arthur kissed along Francis's jaw relishing the feel of his stubble, the way they pushed into each other gasping as their bodies molded together perfectly.

After what both felt like an eternity and no time at all Francis shifted back to breathe, Arthur stayed back in desperate need of his own air for once as well. The movement back was awkward, and Francis stumbled despite having been practically laying on Arthur. He gripped Arthur hard, eyes wide with fear. Once he felt steady on the roof again, he huffed out a laugh into Arthur's shoulder and leaned back.

Flushed, he shot Arthur a sloppy grin. "Maybe this isn't the best place for this." His eyes flickered to the edge of the roof.

Still laying, Arthur traced his hand along Francis's jaw taking in his ruffled look and smirked, "You just need to get your sea legs."

Arthur felt more than heard the way Francis chuckled. "It's getting late. We can call it and -"

Arthur interrupted, "Come inside with me."

"What?"

Shifting up to his elbows keeping their faces mere inches apart Arthur repeated, "Come inside with me."

Francis swallowed. "We can take our time if this is…" He trailed off, not even sure what he was denying or why, and was effectively distracted by the way Arthur leaned into him so openly as if this was a dream.

Staring at Francis through his eyelashes, Arthur whispered, "I don't want to say goodnight yet, and I think I once said you'd have to sneak into my window eventually."

Francis smirked, "Bad boy Arthur returns."

Arthur tentatively pushed Francis back so that he could shimmy out from under him and stand. "I guess I had to live up to the nickname eventually."

With expert ease Arthur glided into his room from the roof. Francis toppled through after him, tripping into the carpet. Catching his balance, he made eye contact with Arthur who was sitting on the bed taking off his shoes. Arthur grinned at him, enjoying the way Francis's tall frame looked illuminated by the light coming from the window — gorgeous even in shadow.

"Welcome to my space. Different at night, right?"

"Different after the roof," Francis said, bending down to remove his own shoes.

Arthur leaned back on the bed and hummed with agreement while watching Francis remove his socks. "Being a little presumptuous aren't we?" Arthur nodded at Francis who was bent over halfway through removing his second sock.

Francis stumbled, dropping his socks on the floor. "I can always crawl back out this window if I'm reading the situation wrong," Francis teased.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Instead of acknowledging Francis's joke with words, Arthur stood. Francis watched intently as Arthur walked up, grabbed him by the belt loops and began backing up towards the bed. Impatient, Francis began kissing him before the back of Arthur's knees hit the mattress. Together they stumbled onto the bed and situated themselves only breaking their kisses briefly as they moved and breathed.

They were just as fervent as they were outside, but now it was as if everything was slowed down. The movements played at half speed so that each of them could savor the moment. In a swift movement, Arthur took off his sweater and tossed it aside, feeling little discomfort despite noting the way Francis leaned back to better drink him in.

He paused while reaching for the hem of Francis's shirt. "This is okay?"

Francis smirked. "Only been fantasizing about it forever. I'm pretty sure I should be the one asking."

Arthur hummed as he slowly lifted Francis's shirt. "I can guarantee that isn't the case. Just promise to tell me if I do too much."

Francis helped Arthur with his shirt and tossed it aside. "It's a little different than -"

"I know," Arthur leaned up into Francis running his hands up Francis's back not wanting to ruin the moment by talking about his own past escapades, "But I think you'd agree this is a long time coming."

Francis leaned into the way Arthur began mouthing at his throat and hummed.

Arthur paused to murmur, "And, yes, I do realize this is different." He slid his hand down to rest right above Francis's pants. "I did admit I love you after all."

In a swift movement, Francis had Arthur pinned to the mattress. Arthur only had the briefest moment to catch his breath before Francis was kissing his mouth open fiercely. Arthur responded immediately with just as much vigor, pulled Francis down into him as much as he could — gripping at his shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist so that they could grind against each other harder. Still he needed more.

Francis leaned back to take down the tangle of his hair which had mostly fallen out. He smirked at Arthur's disheveled look — much better than fantasy. He lightly trailed his fingertips down and up Arthur's chest, the way he wanted that night at his house so long ago, reveling in the way he leaned up into his touch ever so slightly. He paused at Arthur's collarbone and tapped. "So the blush really does go below the collar."

"Oh, shut up." Arthur poked at Francis's side, expertly hitting his spaz spot. Francis yelped in surprise.

Quickly, Arthur sat up pressing a firm hand against Francis's mouth, his face almost hitting the back of his hand, wide eyes staring at Francis's surprised ones. "Remember where we are. We have to stay quiet."

Hesitantly, Francis nodded. Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand.

Francis softly brushed his lips over Arthur's before pulling away and asking, "Are you still sure about this?"

"It'll be fine as long as we stay quiet."

"Oh? Have tons of quiet boys over to test that?" Francis teased even through his whisper.

Arthur blushed. "Ah, you'd be the first."

Francis smirked as he leaned close and ran his hands up Arthur's thighs. "Honored to be your first."

"You know you most definitely are not."

"Oh come on, just let me have this," Francis whined dramatically against Arthur's shoulder, continuing to move his hands, unable to contain his need to continue.

Arthur swallowed heavily drawing on the courage that came to him on the roof, taking in the calmness of his dark room and the feeling that he and Francis were truly the only people in the world.

In a swift movement, he flipped them so that Francis was on his back.

"You can't have that, but I'll give you this."

He leaned forward and kissed Francis harshly, using the surprise of his movement to control the kiss, getting the chance to explore Francis's mouth, making Francis moan in response. Not breaking away, Arthur ran his hands down Francis's body and began to unbutton his pants. Leaning back he worked on pulling off Francis's pants and boxers together, for once cursing Francis's long legs.

Despite the struggle Arthur had, he was pleased to note it did not affect Francis's enthusiasm.

Francis laid on the bed completely naked grinning. Straddling his legs, Arthur kneeling above took in the sight.

The light from the window was just enough to make out all of Francis's features perfectly. The orange glow from the street created a chiaroscuro effect across Francis's body making him look as dramatic as he acts — the outward reflexive of the inward. Pride filled Arthur at the mix of Francis's disheveled hair, swollen lips and intense gaze. Eyes tracing the way even his scruff had shadow made him more aware of how raw his chin and neck felt from Francis rubbing against him.

Slowly, he dragged his eyes downward, taking in how bare Francis was before him. The chest hair that had teased him for so long continued all the way down in thick patches; he noted the way Francis's chest rose and fell quickly. His own breath quickened as he followed the hair down to his crotch.

He was right in that Francis was by far not his first, but already this was special in the way they were together somewhere safe and private, fully bare. As much as he wanted to deny it over all this time, he imagined this moment, imagined how Francis would look below him. If the rest of him was better than imagination, so was this. No image in his mind could compare to the reality of Francis bare and hard and leaking below him, the sheer heat of him being felt against his own skin.

Swallowing heavily in an unsuccessful attempt to fix the dryness in his mouth, he leaned forward. Using one hand for balance in the other to trace Francis' face, he leaned in to kiss him delicately. Once. Twice. A third time more forcefully, as if he couldn't contain himself to be gentle — the hand on Francis's cheek sliding to hold his neck. The hand kept sliding lower as Arthur moved his lips lower to mouth at the junction of Francis's neck and shoulder.

With a gasp, Francis grabbed at Arthur's hips and ground into him, despite the harshness of Arthur's pants.

Arthur tried to shush Francis but ended up chuckling through the noise into Francis's neck.

Despite Francis's attempts to grab at Arthur and maintain some semblance of friction, Arthur slipped through and continued moving lower, embracing the feel of Francis's chest hair against his lips. All at once Francis became pliant letting out one clear, "oh," of realization.

Arthur shimmied so that he was between Francis's knees. Arthur slowed to take in every part of Francis to memory and slid his fingernails up Francis's leg while doing it. He trailed his eyes up to meet those of Francis who was leaning on his elbows to watch. His eyes flickered between Arthur's face and where Arthur's hands rested near the base of his cock.

"You don't have to if you don't -"

Arthur rearranged himself so that he was practically laying flat on his stomach. "Shut up."

Francis looked like he wanted to say more, maybe to assert something, maybe a joke, but all that came out was a groan deep in his throat as Arthur didn't hesitate to take him in his mouth.

He would never brag about it, but Arthur knew he was good at this. At that moment, he tried not to think about how he honed his skill, but instead on Francis, something that was easy. The way the muscles in Francis's thighs twitched when he sucked on the head kept him in the moment. He lost himself in the focus of what he was doing and the way the sound of Francis panting filled the room.

Having gotten used to the size and shape of Francis, Arthur swiftly took him to the base.

Francis gasped, "Fuck."

Arthur pulled off, moving his hand over Francis's cock while he talked. "You need to stay quiet."

Francis nodded. "Just surprised me that time."

"Good, don't want to have to gag you." Arthur teased before taking Francis back in his mouth and setting the same pace as before.

Through his hand Francis muttered, "Hell."

After a few minutes of a steady pace, Arthur grabbed Francis's hand and set it on the back of his head. He pressed down on it a few times, to get Francis to understand what he wanted, but despite the distraction Arthur provided, Francis was able to catch on and threaded his fingers through Arthur's hair moving his head for him.

His breath became ragged.

Arthur reached down to palm at himself, spurred on by Francis's short breaths, cutoff moans, and harshly whispered curses.

Francis pulled at Arthur's hair, stuttering, "Art - you need - fuck," a few deep breaths, "you need to -" He gave up talking, and instead gave in to the feeling, tugging at Arthur's hair as he came. After a moment, Arthur slowly lifted his head to smirk at a disheveled and panting Francis.

Smiling, Francis said, "Holy shit, Arthur." Then, he shifted so he could tug Arthur next to him and pull him in to kiss.

After getting over the surprise of the movement, Arthur kissed Francis back slowly, working up to deeper and more eager kisses, relishing in the feel of Francis laying next to him. Arthur paused when he felt Francis sliding his hand to the front of his pants.

He pulled back and whispered, "You don't have to just because -"

Francis kissed him to stop him from talking. "I want to. Now take them off."

After a pause to watch Francis's open face, Arthur took off his remaining clothes. Although he felt comfortable in his nakedness with Francis, the flush from before returned tenfold at the hungry look Francis gave him.

He tipped his head back dramatically as Francis began to stroke him. Francis took the tipped back head as an open invitation and made a home for his lips at Arthur's neck. Arthur now physically felt the flush from before, not due to anything bodily but because Francis began to speak and he wasn't going to stop.

The little whispers sunk into him somehow making him feel everything even more intensely.

"You're so perfect."

Oh, God.

"Wanted this for so long."

"God, you're beautiful."

People had talked to Arthur before, but never like this, never so nicely, so sweetly, with so much tenderness, full of so much —

"I love you," Francis murmured as if it cost him nothing but with the tenderness of someone who understood how bruised Arthur was beneath everything.

Arthur gasped out Francis' name. He stuttered trying to say something back, but everything felt too good to focus. He could feel Francis's smile against his neck almost as much as he could feel the way his fingers slide over his cock tightly and quickly.

Arthur stuttered, "F-Francis, so good, I…" He bit his lip to hold back a moan.

Francis shifted so he could watch Arthur. "Tell me when you're close."

He changed pace as he spoke. Arthur panted heavily as he looked up into Francis's gentle, but intense gaze. It took him an immense effort to keep his eyes open, and not close them as the feelings took over. When it came time to talk, he couldn't say anything beyond a stutter. Before Francis could ask anything else, or god forbid say something else sweet , Arthur looked at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

Francis smirked and moved. Arthur wasn't able to process the change before he felt Francis's mouth engulf him. His hands shot to his mouth to try to muffle his shout as he came. Francis didn't let up before Arthur was pulling at his hair from the overstimulation.

With a smile, Francis plopped down next to Arthur grinning. He leaned on his side, chin in hand watching as Arthur caught his breath.

He moved one hand to trace the side of Arthur's face. "You really are beautiful you know."

Arthur shifted so that he was facing Francis. "Stop that."

Francis chuckled at Arthur's attempt to hide his smile behind a faux sour face. He moved his hand so that it was tracing Arthur's side, tickling at his curves, giving him pleasant goosebumps. They laid there like that in silence, taking in each other's faces and sharing light touches on their nude bodies.

Arthur broke the silence first with a hesitant whisper, "I love you." Each time he said it, he felt more confident in it. He said it as if he was trying to build up the confidence to say it in the same carefree way Francis did.

"I love you, too."

The words were said so lightly, but hit hard in the middle of Arthur's chest. This time he didn't hesitate to show his smile. There was something special about being able to lay in silence with someone communicating only through the soft smiles they could see through the refraction of dim streetlight and the soft ways their hands traced each other.

Arthur grabbed Francis's hand and held it between them. He wanted to reach over and kiss him again — he never wanted to stop kissing him. Yet, he didn't. He didn't want to change the moment too afraid that he hadn't properly etched how Francis looked right now into his memory. Maybe he'd lay like this a little longer.

He wondered if Francis was thinking the same thing.

Slowly and with soft murmurs, Francis began to talk, and Arthur began to respond. They talked about feelings and small things — the same kinds of small things they talked about before, but suddenly everything felt heavier, more intimate while laying together bare in the low light.

Time flew as they shared stories and talked about dreams, intermingled with close moments and soft touches.

Eventually, everything began to fade into silence and cadence, an ultimate comfort of the mind and body.

Arthur shifted with a grumble, squinted his eyes at the sunlight. He opened them as the person he was draped over began to move. Lifting his head from Francis's chest, he glared at a grinning, yet sleepy, Francis.

Shifting to sit up more, Francis cradled Arthur and teased, "You always look lovely in the morning."

Arthur rolled his eyes. As if Francis hadn't found the chance to tease Arthur about that during the short time he crashed on his couch. Arthur smirked. "Well, for once you aren't waking up in your own room and didn't have the chance to brush your hair."

Francis pursed his lips thinking of a comeback as Arthur shifted up to run his fingers through the knots of Francis's hair. Arthur hesitated when he felt Francis stiffen.

Before he could ask, Francis repeated, "Not waking up in my own room."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Shit."

They both stiffened and strained their ears. Birds outside were chirping, but behind that were the clear sounds of the house. Arthur's family was awake, or at least someone was. As if reading each other's minds, the both began to move.

Arthur threw clothes from the floor at Francis whisper-yelling, "Put them on. Put them on."

He waved his hands in agitation as he searched for his own shirt. He picked up briefs and began to put them on when Francis finally spoke. "Those are mine."

Arthur looked into his hands, noting, yes, they were indeed Francis's. He looked up to see Francis stepping into Arthur's.

Arthur put them on claiming, "There's no time. You gotta get out of here."

"Gotcha," Francis agreed, sliding into his pants and putting on shoes, jumping as a pantless Arthur pushed him towards the window. Snatching up his shirt, Francis let himself be led and stepped onto the roof shirtless. Arthur seemed to relax slightly once both Francis's feet were outside.

Francis grabbed Arthur's hands to calm him down. He smirked. "I had fun last night."

"Same." Arthur glanced towards his door. "I'll see you soon."

Before Arthur could separate them more, Francis grabbed him for a quick kiss. The press of their lips finally made Arthur stop panicking and calmed his mind. He sighed.

Francis leaned back, steady on the roof. "Love you, Arthur."

"Love you too, Frog. Now, be careful getting down."

Francis mocked soluted and put on his shirt as Arthur latched the window closed. He stayed by the window to make sure Francis did make it down safely. Francis stumbled a lot and was hesitant with each step he took, but was able to make it to the tree and ungracefully drop to the ground.

Once his feet hit solid ground, he turned back towards the window, grin widening when he saw Arthur was still there. With overdramatized flourish, Francis bowed lowly. Arthur rolled his eyes to hide his amusement and waved once. Francis blew him a kiss and turned to leave. Leaning against the window, Arthur watched him until he was out of sight.

The bedroom suddenly seemed empty, everything off like he was stuck in the remnants of a house party that all the guests had deserted. His eyes roamed the mess and he rubbed his eyes and sighed at the way eyeliner smudged onto the side of his hand - a reminder of the night before and the early hours he spent talking instead of putting on his at home facade. He let himself get lost in the pattern of cleaning up his room and readying for the day, but kept finding himself smiling at the memory of the night before.