CHAPTER 50

Francis smiled at Alice.

She looked adorable in that dress, while still looking well-put together. It was the first time he had seen her in a real dress and wearing jewelry. Let alone heels. "Vous êtes belle." Francis said, ignoring the burning glares from Alistair. Which in itself was an impressive feat, but Francis worked with Alice. At this point, he doubted anything her siblings did could really scare him.

He enjoyed the flush of her cheeks. "Merci. Vous avez l'air beau, aussi." Alice remarked, stuttering slightly.

Alistair interrupted with a loud groan. "Ye kin flirt efter, whaur ah cannae see ye!"

Alice rolled her eyes at her brother. "You don't even know French."

"He doesn't need to." Patrick huffed, fixing a stern glare on Francis. "We can tell what you're saying jist by 'ow ye two morons are blatherin' ter each other."

"Aye, anyone with one tenth of a brain can see ye two ogling at each other." Wilma smiled, though her eyes screamed murder.

"Whaur urr ye planning oan taking her, then?" Alistair asked.

"Just dancing and zen to ze restaurant a couple blocks away."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, aye?"

"I'm not telling you where we're going, zat would spoil ze surprise for Alice." Francis looked up at Alistair defiantly. "I already told Alfred where we're going, so if she's not home by ten thirty, you can just call him."

Alistair didn't like the sound of that, giving a low growl, but he decided to let it go after seeing Dylan give him a 'Please, for the love of God, just shut up' look. "And ye ken the rules, aye?" Alistair turned to look at Alice. "Na winchin' on the foremaist date, leave at least a five-inch distance atween ye whin jiggin, and no throwing a sausage up a close."

"What?" Francis looked dumbfounded.

She smiled at him, pitying. Even she had a hard time with Alistair's accent and she had been living with him for her whole life. "He said: 'No kissing on the first date, leave at least a five-inch distance between you when dancing, and no sex.'"

Francis turned a deep red at this. "Oh, oui, je comprends."

Alice shook her head, slipping on her trench coat and then grabbing Francis' hand. It was warm. "I'll be home later and I'll have my phone on me in case something happens." And then they were gone.

XXX

Alice and Francis swayed across the dance floor, the quartet playing softly in the background. Alice was smiling softly into the crook of Francis' neck. They were flushed up against each other, one of her hands on his shoulder and the other holding his free hand. Francis' other hand was resting on her waist. She smirked inside at the thought of Alistair losing his shit if he knew she was already breaking rule one.

"How did you know that I liked to dance?" She asked, voice coming out softer than she had expected.

She felt him shrug slightly. "I just guessed. I mean, remember zat one case we were on? Ze one where we were spying on ze suspect, Barrington, I zink it was. You were paying more attention to ze dancer zan I zought you would."

Alice hummed. "Good thing you were lucky and guessed right. The first date would have gone terribly if I didn't know how to dance."

Francis looked affronted. "Zis is not a first date! Remember Italy?"

"Those were dinner and lunches between colleagues," She reminded him. "And besides, we were on a case and we were interrupted in the second time."

"Fair enough, neizer of zose went well. I can do better zan zat." Francis twirled her slightly. "Your brozer would kill me if he knew we were zis close to each other."

In response, she just leaned in closer. "Which one?" She feigned ignorance.

Francis snorted. "Ze Scottish one."

"Ah, that one." Alice said, "Well, what he doesn't know won't kill him." Francis sniggered softly, tightening his grip on Alice softly.

XXX

Alice looked over the dark, glistening water of the Thames. Francis stood beside her, slightly fidgeting. "Alice, I –" and at the same time she said, "Francis, I –"

They stopped abruptly and stared at each other. "God, this is like a terrible teen romance movie on re-run."

"Oui?" Francis said, watching her nervously.

Alice's head whipped around to him. Her bright green eyes stared right into his indigo ones, fire of determination crackling. "Francis, I've never met anyone like you before."

"Quelle?" The Frenchman asked. "Est-ce bien ou mal?"

She ignored him, charging on. "You make the most irritated person ever. I could punch you in the face every time you make a suggestive waggle of your eyebrows. I could strangle you for every single time you open your mouth to say something lewd. Francis, you're so dramatic that sometimes I forget that we're not on the set in a theater. You're clumsy, messy, and frivolous. You never listen to the orders I give you, even though I'm your boss and control your paycheck. You're so feminine that I often find myself questioning my own sexuality." Alice ignored the hurt look on Francis' face. She took a deep inhale. "But you…you're special to me. You've showed me how beautiful the world is. And you've shown me that it's okay to stop and appreciate the beauty of the world, even for me. You're the kindest person I've ever met and I owe you so much. But most of all, I love you. I'm in love the way you nibble on your lips when you're thinking. I'm in love the way you make my tea. I'm in love the way you take care of me, even when it's not your job. I'm in love your hair, your stubby beard, your eyes, your voice. And I love it when you speak French. I love your food. I love everything about you."

French opened and closed his mouth. And opened it. And closed it. Alice was redder than her brother's hair, but her blazing green eyes stayed on his. Fearless. Fearless in the sense that she was scared, but she kept pressing on, trembling.

"I don't deserve you and I don't expect anything. I don't even need a response, but just…You need to know how I feel about you. When Lutz took you, I – I didn't know what to do. I was an idiot when I allowed you to come with me to the club. I should've known that he would've followed me. I shouldn't have nearly kissed you then. You've become such a huge part of my life now that I couldn't – can't – imagine what it would be like without you in my life." Shit, she was stuttering. "You do something to me. My heart is always racing around you. Francis, you make me want to be a better person – which is something I've never wanted to be. Ever."

"I'll always have enemies. Lutz won't be the first person to be crazy and after me. I want to promise you that we could be normal, that we could be safe. But I can't. We'll never be that one couple that leaves in a nice house with a white picket fence in the country with farm animals. Hell, I don't even know if I can promise you that I'll be alive another month or so, with all the shit I get in." Alice gave a bitter chuckle. Her eyes softened, gazing up at Francis. "But I can promise you something: Même si vous décidez que vous ne voulez pas rester avec moi, mon coeur appartiendra toujours à vous. Je t'aime."

Francis stared, dumbfounded, as his heart thundered inside his chest. It felt like it was going to burst in seconds. He realized that he had been too quiet for too long when Alice cleared out her throat ashamedly. "Of course, you don't have to – I mean, I won't –"

Francis cut her off with a kiss.

She tasted like mint and Earl Grey tea and something that could only ever be described as Alice. He noted, with smug satisfaction, that Alice responded instantly. She let out a soft sight, leaning in closer and moving against his lips. Francis' hand found itself entangled in her ashen hair, pulling her in closer. Alice responded by nibbling at his lips softly. "You silly woman," Francis rested his forehead against hers. "I'm French – born and raised in the city of Love – I'm supposed to confess first."

"Well," There was that glorious smile. Warm, soft, and comforting. "I've never been good with rules."

"Duly noted." Francis kissed her swollen lips again. "Don't zink so low of yourself, darling. I hate it when you do zat." He kissed her cold hands. "You see zese? Zese hands are calloused and nozing like mine. Zey are worn from hard work and righteousness. Zese hands have brought justice to hundreds of people. Zey've done something noble and precious, unlike mine. Zese hands make ze most beautiful music that I've, no, all of Europe has heard. Zese callouses and scars, walk wiz zem proudly and know zat zey are precious."

Alice flushed. "Shut up."

"Non. It's not fair for you to express your love so freely and zen not allow me to respond properly." Francis trailed tiny butterfly kisses up Alice's neck, smirking as she swallowed nervously. "Your accent always sounds so incredibly sexy, especially when you speak French." Francis winked and watched as the delicious blush darkened.

He continued, "Ze only zing I've ever wanted from you was your love, chéri." Francis's lips met hers again. "As for people like Lutz, I'll worry. I'll always worry. But I'll be zere wiz you, too. So, as long as I am by your side, I'll protect you. Don't give me zat look, Alice. It's natural to protect someone you love, non? You can't stop me. Even if it's stupid, or reckless, or dangerous; I will always protect you –"

Alice cut him off with a kiss. It quickly developed into a snogging session. She pulled away, panting. Her eyes locked in on his swollen lips and smiled. "This is by far the most pleasant way to shut you up."

With a light blush, Francis smirked down at her. Alice's heart hiccupped. "You've broken two out of zree rules."

She wore her own smirk, putting her rough hand in his smooth one. Everything was right in the world again. No, it was better than it was before. And it would keep getting better, with Francis at her side. "Is that an invitation?"

…THE END…

Translations:

Vous êtes belle. = You are beautiful.

Merci. Vous avez l'air beau, aussi. = Thank you. You look beautiful, too.

Oh, oui, je comprends. = Oh, yes, I understand.

Oui? = Yes?

Quelle? = What?

Est-ce bien ou mal? = Is that good or bad?

Même si vous décidez que vous ne voulez pas rester avec moi, mon coeur appartiendra toujours à vous. Je t'aime. = Even if you decide you can not stay with me, my heart will always belong to you. I love you.

Non = No.

Chéri = Dear.