A/N: Gah! I'm so sorry, guys!*cries* I had something related to writers block for almost a month (or was it longer) and I had been procrastinating since it is the summer holidays. I'm a horrible human being and this chapter is my apology. Please accept it. Thanks ( btw 19 follows and 6 faves? Woah, thanks guys, you're awesome)-Scott

Once I had awoken, I received an almighty headache. I groaned loudly and rolled over in my bed. My bed. Not the sofa where I had fallen asleep last night on. Francis must have carried me here while I slept. I blushes, thinking about how embarrassing that situation could have been. I just hoped and hoped that I didn't do or say anything that I would regret now. I rubbed my face with my hands and flung the covers of my bed off of me and sat up, my legs swinging off the edge it. I was also in my pyjamas. Francis must have changed me too then. He had undressed me. He had seen me naked. I snarled with regret and suddenly stood up, violently shoving my feet into my green bunny slippers.

I stomped out of my bed chamber and quickly made my way down to the kitchen. Francis was most likely there, cooking breakfast. Francis' cooking was the best. It was so delicious and- No! I couldn't let myself get distracted from the point. The point was, Francis undressed me without my permission while I was in an unconscious state. I slammed the kitchen door open, which caused it to smack loudly against the wall behind it loudly. Francis jumped a few feet in the air and let out a sound of surprise, almost dropping the pan which he was currently holding.

"Arthur what's wro-"

"FRANCIS!" I screamed. The Frenchman tutted, putting his pan down and walking over to me, taking his white, frilly apron off in the process. To my utter surprise, he lent down and kissed me full on the lips. I stumbled back, hoping for something to support me, but the door wasn't where it should have been. Before I fell, Francis hooked one of his arms around my waist and his other hand cupped my chin. It took me a few seconds to grasp what was happening, but when I did, my stomach started to flutter weirdly like it had never before and I felt faint. I was glad that Francis was holding me, because I became completely lax. The frog's mouth left mine and as soon as it did, I wanted to experience that feeling again. Somewhere in my brain triggered the feeling of déjà vu, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Don't go screaming like that in the morning. It'll disturb the neighbours," He said, flashing me an innocent smirk. I was lost for words, all I did was stare at Francis' beautiful face, my eyes wide with shock. "So, what did you want to tell me?" he said as he picked up the pan which he left a minute ago and brought it over to the table.

"You…you undressed…me…yes-yesterday and…you-" I stuttered, becoming nervous. Francis chuckled:

"You were sweaty and you smelt of alcohol last night. You would have been disgusted too if you were conscious. I did the same thing what anyone would." I forgot that Francis wasn't that bad, but I still felt as if he invaded my privacy.

"T-then, why did you kiss me?" I said, some of my courage returning. Francis stopped putting food onto the plates and looked towards to me, with a pained expression of his face. His face made my heart and stomach drop. Why did I feel guilty? It was a perfectly reasonable question, wasn't it?

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what happened last night?," Francis then sighed, running a free hand through his long, beautiful hair. He then smiled, but sadly." I knew you would forget. You were too drunk to remember anything."

"Stop playing games with me, Francis," I snapped "tell me what I did." Francis raised an eyebrow and I waited for the blow.

"In your exact words, I can quote that you said,"I cringed not wanting to hear what Francis was going to say. "'I want you'" Francis whispered, lust dripping from each word. I blushed madly and felt the need to defend myself. Francis put the pan in the sink and faced me, a stern look on his face.

"N-no way I would say that! You're making it all-"

"Will you go out with me?" Francis cut in.

"up. You should be sorry! Wait, what did you say?"

"Arthur Kirkland, will you be my boyfriend?"

"…"

All I could do was stare at Francis once again, probably looking like a beached fish, gasping for air. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I couldn't decide whether they were tears of happiness or shock. I covered my face with my hands, using my long pyjama sleeves as hankies. Francis laughed. But it was not his usual, boisterous laugh, it was a cute, reassuring, caring laugh. He walked up to me and pulled me into an immense embrace and nuzzled his face into my chest.

"I'll take that as a yes." Francis finally said.