Chapter 9
"I thought I'd find you moping up here." Watching him from the doorway was Francis, his cheeks slightly flushed, a few strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
Arthur looked up from his place on the floor. He did not know how long he had sat there, but judging from the numb feeling in his feet, it had been quite a long time. "Not moping," He said stubbornly, testing out his toes to see if they were still attached, "Just forgot something."
Stepping into the room, the Frenchman closed the door behind him, leaning against it. "And what was that?" He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"My… shirts needed folding." Arthur gestured vaguely in the direction of a half-open drawer. He watched Francis glance inside, knowing full well that all the shirts were in disarray. His feet now completely detached from his legs, Arthur slide onto his bottom, leaning against his bed. Francis sat down beside him, bumping his shoulder until he shifted over. They sat there for a few minutes, blood flow returning to Arthur's feet slowly but surely, neither willing to break the hard silence that had fallen.
Did Francis know how Arthur was feeling? Did he really know that the tiny monster that had originally been for Alfred was now turning into something much bigger and much more French? Did he really know how angry Arthur felt about the fact that he was jealous over a Frenchman? Arthur sighed, betting that Francis probably did know.
On some invisible cue, Francis got to his feet, stretching and offering his hand. "Come." He said, wiggling his fingers invitingly. Jutting out his chin, Arthur took the proffered hand, Francis tugging him to his feet. He tried to walk towards the door, intending to go visit Five Meters for a round of drinks with Gilbert, but Francis still held his hand. "Would you like to tango?" He asked, squeezing Arthur's hand.
Arthur felt his cheeks heat up immediately. "W-what?" He feigned deafness, hoping Francis would be deterred and let go of his hand and pretend that he had said nothing. After a week with the man, you think he would've learned how determined the Frenchman could be.
Shaking his head, Francis pulled Arthur closer, their chests bumping as he reached out and grabbed Arthur's hip. With a small gasp of surprise, Arthur recoiled, stumbling away from Francis, his breathing unusually shallow and face burning. Seeing the slightly hurt look on the elegant face, Arthur attempted to come up with an escape, a reason as to why the sudden contact had scared him.
"I am not a woman!" Oh, that was brilliant.
Francis looked as though he was trying not to laugh. "In tango, there are only partners. The dance is nothing without other. With no one to lead," He held out a hand, "The dance has no structure. With no one to follow," He held out his other hand, "The dance is meaningless." He clapped his hands together, watching Arthur over his fingertips.
Cautiously, Arthur moved towards Francis. "You stole that from Antonio, didn't you?" Francis raised his eyebrows, looking abnormally unimpressed. "I still am not a woman." Arthur huffed.
"I know Arthur." He cracked a smile, "Do you really want to learn?"
Taking a deep breath, Arthur nodded. "Yes." He reached out his hand, waiting for Francis to move him.
Francis took one of Arthur's hands, placing it on his shoulder, and then slide his fingers around Arthur's hip. Smiling, he took their free hands and clasped them. Arthur hoped Francis wouldn't notice how sweaty his palms were getting. "Comfortable?" He asked, their chests brushing.
"Hardly." Arthur said, shifting on his feet. This was different to say the least. While Francis enjoyed subtle touches here and there - their arms brushing always managed to send goosebumps along his skin - but this was new, closer…intimate even.
His heart beat painfully somewhere near his throat as Francis took the first step.
Intimate? No. It couldn't be intimacy, he had known this man for a week. And yet, Arthur was sure his heart wasn't pumping furiously just because they were dancing. Such slow, guided and warm steps couldn't induce even the faintest rise in his blood pressure, so what was it? Maybe his blood pressure was rising due to stress. But the stress of a hostel on the outskirts of Rome really didn't mean much.
"You're stiff Arthur, relax a bit."
Love? That couldn't be it. That couldn't possibly be it. He wasn't in love with Francis. Was he? Were all those looks, the moments they've shared, the flirting he was trying so hard to ignore, did they all mean something? Did Francis really like him more than a simple travelling companion? Well, it was clear that he did like Arthur. He knew the Frenchman could've had any person in less than a day with is suave charm.
"I'm doing my best Francis. It's not like everyone is just as naturally gifted as you are."
Charm? Was that all Arthur had fallen for? Or did he actually like something underneath all that debonair manner and good looks? Did he love Francis, or did he love the idea of Francis? Did he even love Francis or was the Frenchman just a victim of a severe rebound?
"And then we dip." Arthur felt himself being led down and immediately panicked, gripping Francis' shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut, "Keep going" Only when he was a foot off the ground did his decent. He opened his eyes, squinting up at Francis' amused face, "Not bad."
They straightened, Arthur finding himself unable to look away from Francis' eyes. Love? Really? His hands fell to his sides, but Francis still held his hip. Long fingers gently brushed the flushed cheek, tucking the short hair behind Arthur's ear. The Englishman didn't shy away and Francis' hand moved down, tracing along his jawline, sitting beneath his chin. The white dress shirt was soft as Arthur clutched it, leaning closer. He could feel Francis' heart beating frantically and his own pumping furiously in response. He swallowed as fingers guided his chin upwards. His eyes closed and warm breath - again, the subtlest hint of lilies - ghosted along his lips.
"Arthur!" Both men jumped as the shout echoed up through the thin walls. Arthur's eyes flew open, "Come get the phone! Someone's calling for you!" Lovino yelled again.
Hesitating, Arthur looked at the door, then back at Francis. Screw if it's just a crush, I want this. "Just wait one second Lovino!" He gripped Francis' shirt, pulling him closer.
"Get fucking down here before I hang up!" The Italian called, his voice seeming to shake dust from the ceiling.
Scoffing quietly, Francis released Arthur, turning away and walking to the balcony. Swearing, Arthur hurried out of the room. "Coming you Italian bastard!" He yelled, jumping the last two stairs.
Lovino was waving the phone at him, his face sweaty and hair suspiciously ruffled. Outside, Antonio was nursing a growing lump on his head. Snatching the phone out of the Italian's hand, he stalked over the armchair, throwing himself into it. "What?!" He barked, hoping that Matthew wasn't on the line.
"Hey Arthur, it's me."
He froze. "Alfred?"
"Who else?" His cocky grin came to the forefront of his mind, innocent yet entirely self-assured. Automatically, Arthur glanced towards the stairs.
"Why are you calling?" He asked, huddling a little deeper into the chair, glaring at the eavesdropping Italian.
The American sounded slightly taken aback at Arthur's stern tone. "The bank's been calling me lately." He said, "Are you having money problems or something?"
Arthur thought it best not to mention the night he had called Alfred back in Paris and asked for money. "No, I'm fine. How did you get this number?"
"The bank gave me a contact for a bank in Rome. I don't know why Rome, and some angry guy there gave me this number. You're a hard guy to find Artie." He said, chuckling lightly, clearly not even registering the use of Arthur's nickname.
"Right." He paused, and finally asked the question that had been plaguing him since France, "How's your new roommate?"
"Oh, Ivan's fine." Alfred's would-be casual voice answered and he quickly changed topics, "And you're sure you're all right Art? You sound a bit stressed, were you doing something?"
Arthur glanced at the stairs, wondering if the scent of flowers was just his imagination. "I'm fine. No big deal."
"So, where are you exactly?"
"I'm in Rome." He really didn't want to lie. And maybe a part of him wanted Alfred to feel a little guilty for being utterly unhelpful in his time of need.
There was silence before Alfred's voice exploded out of the receiver. "Rome?!" He cried and Arthur could see his glasses bouncing on his nose as he jumped out of seat in surprise, "Arthur! How in the hell did you get over there?! You're supposed to be in France!"
Arthur sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Believe me, I know that. There was an issue."
"Issue!?" Alfred spluttered, "Arthur, I'm coming to get you right now." Arthur could hear the scrapping of a chair and the pad of feet as Alfred stood and for a moment he believed that Alfred was actually coming to get him.
"What?" That was until a new, devastatingly familiar voice entered the conversation, "Where are we going Alfred? We have plans tonight."
Arthur knew that Alfred's hand was over the phone, but that didn't quiet his loud voice one bit. "Not now Iv."
"You are not flying to Rome. Alfred, we are not together anymore." His throat constricted slightly and he coughed, "I can manage myself. Go with Ivan, whatever you "roommates" do these days." His left hand did half-hearted air-quotes. There was silence from the other end and Arthur watched Lovino sneak back outside before the Alfred spoke again.
"Ivan and I…" He lowered his voice, whispering, "We're not like that. I mean, we've done it, but more to get over initial awkwardness than anything."
Arthur's lips formed a thin line. "You shagged each other to get to know each other?"
"Exactly!" The American's voice was immediately as chipper as usual, "I knew you'd get it Arthur."
"I'm hanging up now Alfred. Goodbye." Arthur clicked the 'end' key and resisted the urge the throw the phone against the wall. He walked over to the desk, squeezing behind and hanging the phone up.
Slowly, he walked back up the stairs, determinedly not looking outside into the courtyard. Once back in his room, he shut the door. Francis looked around at the noise and found Arthur inches from him. Fingers clutched at his shirt. Francis slid his arms around Arthur's waist.
The door exploded open and Feliciano leapt into the room. "Arthur! Francis! We have new guests!" He sang, "Thought you might like to meet them!" Freezing mid-step, he noticed the two men wrapped around each other. A small blush appeared on his cheeks while a delighted smile spread across his lips. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, quirking his head and grinning in a much-too Elizaveta fashion.
Arthur and Francis quickly back away from each other. "No…" said Arthur, nervously scratching his neck, "Let's go meet these new guys." The Italian nodded enthusiastically and bounded from the room. The two men followed after him, and as they closed the door to their room, Arthur whispered, "Maybe they'll be normal."
"In this place?" Francis said, running a hand through his hair, "I doubt it."
Author's Note
I said Alfred wasn't done quite yet~