One more for tonight.

Oops, this one is set four years before the usual timeline. Arthur is nineteen and Francis is twenty-two, and they both go to YouTube gathering in London.
Alistair (Scotland), Arthur's older brother, they used to live together in a shitty flat they split rent on with their other brother, Rhys (Wales), but when Francis moved to England, Arthur moved out and into a nicer flat with him.
Saanvi (Fem!India, because I think India should have been a woman, so I'm going to write her as a woman in ineffectual protest! Also the name is literally the first one that comes up for popular girls baby names in India, 'cause I'm uncreative) Is Arthur's ex-girlfriend, who left him after claiming that he was too controlling, Arthur denies it to this day.

Enjoy ;)

"Artie?" said a voice from behind the green-haired, piercing filled, man in front of his sticker-covered monstrosity of a laptop, making him jump and slam down the screen.

"What?" he snapped, scowling lowly at the ginger intruder.

"Anyone would think you were watching porn in here, what with how shifty you're being," said Arthur's elder brother, a smug kind of smile on his lips, "Turns out you're just watching that pretty-boy Youtuber."

Arthur seemed to grapple with what to say for a moment, his mouth flopping open and closed a few times, knowing full well he'd been caught red-handed.

"I'll be honest, when you 'walk of shamed' back from the gathering two days ago, I didn't think you'd go home and stalk the guy."

"I'm not-" he began, but was quickly cut off by Alistair's deep laugh.

"Did you two even say two words to each other?"

"Well..."

"Are you drunk enough to fall into the bed of a complete stranger?" The voice caught Arthur off guard, but he showed no signs of it, just taking a sip of his beer, cheap shit really, god-awful if he was being honest, but he wasn't that successful, and was still lived mostly off of his day-job. The voice sounded French, if he had to guess, and really, it wasn't much of a guess, but the inflection of the words had him narrowing his eyes.

"Depends if the stranger is hot." He replied easily.

"Well," the stranger continued, a smirk in his voice, "Do I measure up?"

That's when Arthur turned, and dear sweet merciful lord, did he ever...

The man looked like some kind of Calvin Klein model.

But he couldn't let him know that.

He shrugged, the corners of his lips twisting up, and nodded, "You'll do."

"Is that it?"

"No!"

Whatever he was cuddled up with smelled entirely too good.

Roses, he thought, but he wasn't a gardener, and couldn't really tell a daisy from a sunflower.

"Awake yet, little bunny?"

Arthur frowned.

Eugh, that voice was entirely too French for this early in the morning.

That's when he remembered.

Searing lips, roaming hands, and oh god...

"Little Bunny?" he asked nervously.

"Oui, that's you, right? Flying Mint Bunny."

He groaned, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his head, rousing a chuckle from above him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Where are we?"

"My hotel room."

"Where's that?"

"London...?"

"Helpful." He replied, removing the blankets from his head so he could glare at the dishevelled Frenchman.

Arthur felt rather proud of himself in that moment, glancing over what he could see of the man in front of him. Several hickeys were blooming on his shoulders and neck, scratch marks down his chest and a light bruise on the one hip he could see, and while he couldn't be sure that they were all him -especially considering the manner in which he was greeted in the bar- he couldn't help but feel a little smug.

He rolled over and out of bed, searching around the room for his clothes.

"Leaving already?" the Frenchman asked amusedly.

"What were you expecting?" he asked, "While I will admit that you were a bloody good shag, I'm not entirely sure that one night stands are supposed to hang around and have morning tea."

The Frenchman just shrugged and laid back in the bed, allowing Arthur to gather his things.

Just as he was about to leave, the Frenchman spoke up again, "I really did love your tongue piercing by the way."

"Is that everything?"

"Yes- well..."

"Spit it out! I haven't got all bloody day to deal with your emotional constipation!"

Arthur scowled at him briefly, but continued, "He gave me his number."

"And you haven't called?"

"Why would I call?"

"You said he was a good shag!"

"So!?"

"I swear, this is why Saanvi broke up with you."

"That has nothing to do with this!"

Alistair walked up to him then, grabbing Arthur's phone from his desk and pushing it against his chest, "Call the ruddy Frenchman."

And then he left.

Arthur glared at his phone for a moment, as if it had just insulted his taste in drapes.

But it hadn't.

So he called the ruddy Frenchman.