A new day, a new drabble.

This one I spat out in a little over twenty minutes.

Enjoy ;)

Francis was finding it hard to be silent.

He wasn't entirely sure how he hadn't given himself away yet, but he was ever so grateful.

Arthur was having a nostalgia day, it seemed. Of when he was nineteen and had green hair to go with his piercings and tattoos that he still hadn't removed, blasting music that Francis could only label as god-awful screaming and is that supposed to be a guitar? And was dancing -he used 'dancing' loosely, mind you, it more like a mixture of jumping, flailing limbs, and head banging- around the living room, whilst screaming along with it.

It was when he started with the air guitar that he found himself no longer able to control himself. Francis let himself laugh, and Arthur caught sight of him and the camera he had pointed at him. The scowl he received, hardly surprising.

What happened next did surprise him though.

He kept going.

But now he sang at the camera, and danced around even harder, gesturing for Francis to join him.

Francis stared at the ridiculous punk in front of him for a moment, at the huge smile on his face and the way his hands played air guitar as if the instrument was actually in his hands, and he let himself let out one another laugh as he placed the still recording camera on the coffee table and launched himself over the sofa.

He jumped into Arthur's arms, laughing happily at the 'oof' his impact caused, grabbing Arthur's hands and lifting them up to jump along with the god-awful racket that his boyfriend called music.

Arthur just spun him around, screeching along with the words that Francis couldn't understand over the din of the drums and the wail of the guitar, playing the beats with his arms and chords with his fingers.

Francis spun with him, flailing his limbs about like he hadn't taken ballet for a good portion of his life, and banging his head like he hadn't spent almost an hour on his hair that morning.

They stayed like this until the song ended, by which time they were panting and sweating and smiling like they'd just won the lottery. Francis laughed, letting his arms fall loosely over Arthur's shoulders and his forehead rest against Arthur's own. He closed his eyes, letting a single laugh out through his heavy breaths.

"I hate your music." He said simply, reopening his eyes to meet Arthur's smirk.

Arthur leant in a little, pressing their noses together, "You have no taste." He replied, "My music is bloody brilliant."

Francis just made a sceptical noise in the back of his throat, leaning down to press his face into the crook of Arthur's neck, always a little awkward, since they were the same height, but Francis liked to feel held.

The new song that formed the background to their little moment was hardly romantic, although Francis did have to admit that it was at the very least better than what they'd just been dancing to. It was still at top volume and the whole scene was so artistically juxtaposed with their soft embrace that Francis couldn't help but give a slight chuckle.

"What?" Arthur asked, and Francis could hear the smile in his voice.

"We're a strange couple."

Arthur let out a breath of laughter through his nose, "Yeah," he said musingly, "We are."