Chapter 2

AN

I feel like this is going to turn into a proper fanfiction, when I really intended it to be just a few chapters. Oh well. I've upped the rating due to a few choice words in this chapter. I know I'm not the only one who has been called these things, and I sincerely apologise for bringing up any bad memories.

/AN

After a hearty English breakfast of sausages, eggs and toast - all cooked by Francis, of course, save for the toast, which was treated to death by flame - the two men moved to their respective bedrooms to dress.

Arthur slipped on his favourite tweed suit jacket over a crisp white shirt, straightening the mud-coloured waist coat and matching bowtie. After checking his reflection in the looking glass inside the wardrobe door, he marched out into the hallway, leant against the wall, and waited for Francis to finish getting ready.

Half an hour later, the handsome Frenchman stepped out of his room, impeccably groomed, and finally ready to go. Upon seeing him, Arthur's mouth dropped open. The Frenchman was wearing a surprisingly modest mauve suit, complete with ruffled shirt and velvet bowtie.

"Struck dumb by my beauty, I see?" chuckled the ever confident man.

"I don't think I've ever seen you with so many buttons done up," retorted the Brit, smirking at Francis.

"Well I wouldn't want to outshine you completely, mon chere!"

Arthur playfully punched the grinning man on the shoulder, eliciting a mock horror gasp. Chuckling at the over-dramatic Frenchman, Arthur moved to open the door, stepping out into the crisp, autumn air of Paris.

Two hours later, an elated Francis pulled a laughing Arthur into yet another bar. Usually, when the Brit drank, he became a total mess, blubbering and carrying on like a child. Yet something about Paris, the twinkling lights and happy faces, and the presence of Francis, it made his heart feel fuller than it had in a long time.

The atmosphere in this bar was a little different, a little rougher than the last five… or was it six? But the intoxicated pair brushed it off like crumbs from a rich man's table, swinging their alcohol laden bodies into the plastic barstools and ordering a round of beer.

Glancing around the bar, Arthur spotted a few people he vaguely knew; Ludwig, a strapping German man, was sitting with his head in his hands as his best friend, Feliciano, a tiny Italian full of energy, attempted to spear a cocktail olive with a toothpick, failing miserably. A beautiful Hungarian woman, whose name he thought was Eliza, or perhaps Betty, was chatting up a blank faced Swiss man, who appeared to be completely oblivious to her advances. Most notable, however, was the scene occurring in the very corner of the room, shoddily hidden behind a plastic palm tree.

"Hey, Francis," Arthur poked the man's arm sharply, getting the Frenchman to turn to him. "Isn't that Gilbert over there?" He pointed towards the plastic tree.

"You know, I think it is!" A smirk grew on Francis' handsome face.

"Isn't he snogging Roderich?"

"I think so! Guess he finally made a move, good for him."

Sure enough, the albino had the chocolate haired pianist pressed up against the wall, and was making out with him quite enthusiastically, hands wandering to places they probably shouldn't be; at least, not in public. Surprisingly, Roderich was making no move to push him away. Arthur chuckled, wondering just how many beers Gil had poured into the aristocrat to get him to allow such inelegant behaviour. The Brit glanced sideways at Francis, suddenly frowning slightly.

"Yeah… good for him…"

Before the Frenchman could question Arthur's unusual mood swing, a disturbance in the steamy corner drew not only their attention, but the gazes of everyone in the bar.

"Oi! What the f*ck do you two f*gs think you're doing?" A burly ginger man had shoved Gilbert away from Roderich, causing the albino to stumble to the ground. Before he could reply, Roderich stepped forward, surprising everyone.

"We were doing exactly the same thing that you were doing to the lovely blonde over there," the brunette said smartly, pointing to a skimpily dressed woman across the room, whose lipstick was indeed smudged.

"Don't compare that, that sin to anything that I'd ever do, you f*cking queer!" The man raised a hand to shove the musician, causing Gilbert to jump up and knock his arm away.

"I happen to be in love with this 'f*cking queer,' you dickhead, which is more than I can say about you and little Miss Hooker over there!" The albino retorted, clasping Roderich's hand protectively.

"I should do something about this…" muttered Francis, sliding off his barstool.

"Just… be careful, okay?" The Brit warned.

"Am I every anything but?" the handsome blonde grinned back cockily, before striding over to the corner of the room, chuckling heartily.

"Ah, what have we here? Just a little disturbance, I'm sure. Now, how about we all shake hands and go our separate ways, oui? Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, now would we, Gilbert?" The Frenchman said to the albino, looking pointedly at the delicate pianist.

"Uh, yeah, good idea Francis… might skip the handshake though," Gilbert mouthed a thank you to the Frenchman, before pulling Roderich out of the bar, and out of harm's way. Francis turned back to the redhead, ready to placate the man, only to find himself the new victim.

"I know exactly who you are! Francis Bonnefoy, the sl*t of France!"

Arthur, who was still watching from the bar, saw Francis' friendly smile falter, as the ginger man continued to verbally assault the Frenchman.

"I'll bet the only reason you helped out those gay freaks was so you could join in, am I right? Just another fling, eh? How much do they pay you after it, huh? Or do you just f*ck 'em 'till they can't stand, then leave 'em in the ally?" The redhead had successfully stunned Francis into silence, so he started tossing insult after insult carelessly at the blonde.

"Sl*t!"

Arthur slid off the barstool, stumbling a little as he walked across the room to assist his friend.

"Wh*re!"

Francis' shoulders slumped forward slightly, not even attempting to stop the man, tell him he was wrong.

"F*ggot!"

Arthur quickened his steps, sensing the blonde's helplessness.

"Pervert!"

The Brit faltered. Hearing the word he'd uttered so often from someone who truly meant it? It felt horrible.

"Rapist!"

Francis gasped, a quick intake of breath, and he mumbled something unintelligible to his aggressor.

"You tryna say something, paedophile? Speak up!"

"I am not a rapist… or a paedophile, for that matter."

Arthur heard the dejection in his friend's soft voice, and he hurried across the room to get him the hell out of there.

"Yeah you are, don't try to deny it! You're proud of it, aren't you? I bet your daddy showed you exactly what to do. Only reason he kept your mum around probably. And Jeanne, she was good practice, wasn't she?"

Francis' breath caught in his throat at the mention of Jeanne. His mouth moved soundlessly, before he crumpled to the ground, his gently curling hair falling across his face, and he began to sob hopelessly.

"That's what I thought. F*cking rapist…" the redhead sneered down at the broken man, his job finished, and stalked off.

Arthur crouched down in front of the weeping blonde, patting his back awkwardly.

"Uh, Francis? Are you okay?" No response. "You know that was just a pile of bollocks, right? You'd never do something like that…especially not to Jeanne." Still nothing. "Come on, I'll take you home."

The Brit helped Francis to his feet, half carrying the desolate man out of the now silent bar, and settled him on a bench, before calling for a taxi. He couldn't remember where they'd left the car, and besides, neither of them should really be driving at that point.

And so the two men sat in silence, waiting for the taxi. And when the taxi arrived, further silence. Arthur was sure that even more silence awaited them back at Francis' home, but he didn't really mind. Constantly glancing over at the Frenchman, he kept trying to start a conversation, but could never find the right words. What do you say to someone who has been accused of such things? And so the silence continued.

AN

I feel like this chapter ended kinda lame... all that angst was hard to follow. It was hard to write too, but the story called for it. The insults were pretty bad too, sorry about that. So yeah, not too happy with this chapter -_- I'll make up for it in the next with some fluff. Please review =^-^=

/AN