The next morning, Arthur woke up feeling refreshed and headed right for the kitchen. This woke up Francis, who headed in after him.
"Eager to get an early start?" Asked Francis with a yawn.
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Food helps me ease my cravings for… other things. When I had food in my stomach last night, my need for heroin and coke subsided a little. I would often replace the food with the drugs. So, since I didn't skip any meals yesterday, I feel a little better. But I'm hungry as fuck."
Gilbird chirped in response to the Brit's statement.
The blue – eyed man chuckled. "I see someone else agrees with you."
"Don't think it would be easy taking in someone like me." The Englishman warned. "I've been on drugs and on the streets for nearly a year. So, don't think you're going to be my night in shining armor or anything barf worthy like that."
"Barf worthy?" Francis laughed.
"Yes." Arthur replied. "Barf worthy. Meaning stupid romantic crap that could only be found in those damn B – rated chick flicks.
Francis sighed with a shrug. "I never would have imagined that listening to you talk could be so entertaining. You have quite the way with words, Arthur Kirkland. And to think, I was going to take you to the movies today."
Now it was Arthur's turn to laugh at his new friend's remark. "Ha! Don't even think about it." He warned with a surprisingly playful shove to Francis' chest. This caused both of the boys to pause for a brief moment as a faint pink blush covered their cheeks. Just then, the phone rang.
Francis was all too eager to answer, only to receive an earful from his dear maman.
"Francis, why didn't you give that sweet boy, Jacques, a call after your date?"
Embarrassed, the Frenchman covered the phone with his hand to try to prevent Arthur from hearing his mother's shouting. However, his attempts were in vain as Arthur was already trying to stifle his laughs.
"This isn't funny." Francis cautioned, clearly in agony.
"No, it's not funny at all." His mother answered. "Poor Jacques came to my hoe crying two days after your second date because you never called him back for a third. Francis, you are going to be thirty – five this year. It's about time you find a nice man to settle down with."
"But maman, my dear sweet maman,"
It was too late by this point. Arthur was already on the floor, laughing his little heart out.
"I just didn't feel anything between me and Jacques! He's too dramatic for my taste, wants me to pay for all of his meals and movies, and everything had to be done on his terms. I'm sorry, maman, but I cannot marry Jacques!"
"Who is that laughing in the background?" Asked Francis' mother. "Put him on the phone, dear."
With a devilish smirk, Francis handed Arthur the phone. The poor Brit's face paled like a sheet, and he froze in fear.
"H-hello, m-ma'am."
"Hello, dear. What is your name?" The woman inquired.
Arthur gulped. "My name is Arthur, m-miss. And yours?"
"Well, that depends." Hummed the woman on the other line of the phone. "If this conversation goes well, you can call me maman. If not, then it's Mrs. Bonnefoy to you. Now, what business have you with my son. You are on a date, oui?"
The poor man nearly chocked on the air that he breathed. "W-well, ma'am, I guess that you could call me a "friendish" or work associate of your son's. Well, I guess I am technically his temporary roommate. If -if that is what you mean…"
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long time. Both Arthur and Francis had sweat and hair sticking onto their foreheads, their knees shook as they waited for a response from the woman in charge of the situation.
After what felt like an eternity, a long squeal was heard on the other end. "Welcome to the family, Arthur! Quick, put Francis back on the line."
The Brit held his head in shame as he returned the phone to Francis.
"Francis! He is adorable! I simply must meet him. Tomorrow, for brunch at ten, oui." It was not a question, but more like an order. "I knew my baby boy would find a man of his own one day. You don't know how happy this makes me! I can't wait to meet my new son!" With that, the conversation was over and Francis' mother hung up.
"I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry." Mumbled Arthur as he slammed his head face first into the kitchen counter. "Ouch…" He complained with a deep sigh. "I promise I'll never tell anyone about this, if you promise not to, either. Please?"
Francis was all too quick to agree. "Agreed. Mon ami. Now, let's forget all about this nonsense and have breakfast."
"That's wonderful! I'm starved."
With terrified faces, Francis and Arthur simultaneously looked towards the door to find none other than Alfred Jones.
"Alfred! How long have you been standing there?!" The British man hollered.
Without embarrassment, the American replied "About twenty minutes. Will someone please feed me? We have a long day."
Arthur fainted from shame, and it took Francis a moment to react before he came to his senses and managed to kick their boss out of the apartment. Of course, he didn't let Alfred leave empty handed and gave him a sandwich. "See you at work. Idiot."
All Alfred could do was laugh. He smiled and waved at the two before heading out the door. "I got a cab for all of us today, so I'll see you when Arthur wakes up and you two love birds finish breakfast. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He promised with a wink.
"There is no secret!" Francis argued. "We're just two co-workers enjoying breakfast together!"
"Ah, but did you two spend the night?" Alfred inquired.
Francis' face turned beat red. "Not in that way! We're just two men, who had a sleepover, and are enjoying a morning's breakfast together!"
By this point, everyone on that floor could hear their bosses' laughter, or possibly most of the residents in the building. "Francis, you really aren't helping your case. I'll see you both downstairs in a few minutes."
