Authot's note:

This chapters revolves around Arthur and Francis' conversation. The action is basically their constant talking, as if it was a script for theatre. Why so? Well, since my purpose is to create complete and complicated characters, this is just a different way to meet them: having dinner together, making fun of each other. Enjoy!

Français-English:

Chéri – tenderly beloved one

Nenni – No (I read Nenni in fairy tales. It is just like Non, but in Old French. I'm using it because I like it. So STFU.)

Hé bien – Oh, well.

Bonnefois – I chose to write it BonneFOIS as with this writing in French it would mean: Francis Good-Time. Which is great when you hear a certain Queen's song. XD

Merci – Thank you

Mais mon amour: but my love

Je le savais! : I knew it!

Tais-toi – shut up

Soho -It's the quarter in the centre of London, where there's the National Gallery. It's on the left side of the Thames if you're looking for it in a map.

Time Warp

Francis looked at him with shiny blue eyes and walked to his own seat, followed by Arthur's grateful gaze. Adjusting the chair, Francis raised his azure globes as a sweet smile appeared on his face. After placing his opened napkin on his tights, he reached for a fork and directed his curious gaze into Arthur's staring emerald eyes.

Blushing at the other's honey smile, he glanced down and grabbed a fork himself, using it to cut the crimson pasta into little worms. Francis furrowed and chuckled.

Raising an eyebrow slowly, Arthur's eyes shifted from his friend's grinning face to his plate. Yet, somewhat annoyed, he kept on chopping.

Francis mocked laughing lightly. Arthur stopped to look down at his dish. Using his fork as a spoon, he managed to put part of the food in his mouth. And tasted. And munched. And smirked.

"THIS is delicious!" He stated pointing to his plate.

Francis grinned happily. "Of course, since I cooked it." And rolled some pasta on his fork. Noticing the weird gesture, Arthur blinked. Smiling, he added. "And please, chéri, learn how to eat." With much grace, he raised the fork and bit his meal.

"First, WE cooked it. And second... How the hell do you do that?" Arthur remarked curiously. Why do I always have to ask him to teach me anything, dammit! He thought lowering his eyes, glancing at the parquet.

Francis' smile widened into a joyful beam as he shifted his fork back to his plate and used it to move some pasta aside to form a little ruby hill. He then pierced through it with the silver item and started rolling, turning the flat shiny handle between his thumb and his second and third fingers fast until the red strings were tightly tying the chiseled fork. With a light charming pressure he lift the spotted object to be elegantly suspended between his thumb and his finger and glided to his fine mouth. Parting his red-rose lips, he blew softly on it and caged it into his warm mouth.

A swallow, a cough, a blush and a glance after, Arthur met his gaze and holding his own fork like a blessed sword, he dove it into the messy dish. Trying to unravel those entangled threads was unfortunately more difficult than expected, so he ended up rolling the whole sea of ruby strings around his small fork. Failing. The tawny strings crept like poisonous snakes up the fork to his hand, caressing his wrist with their bloody ends. Widening his eyes, the poor man instinctively raised his arm and shook it frantically, trying to get rid of the unexpected enemy. Leaving its prey, the evil fork fell to the floor with a shrill ting.

With his free hand the mad Englishman got rid of the red pasta still hanging on his fingers like they were covered in sticky webs. All with the annoying background of Francis' loud guffaw.

"Would you just shut UP?" Arthur growled cleaning his hand with his white napkin.

Trying to restrain his laughter by placing two hands in front of his mouth, Francis succeeded only in making his face turn redder and his eyes glossier before exploding again. "Ahahahah! The great British Empire hindered by... Pasta! PASTA! If I'd knew that I would've cooked it instead of baking baguettes!" And he kept on laughing, weeping a little.

Arthur pouted narrowing his eyes. Suddenly sliding his head to the side in a very aristocratic manner, closing his eyes he stated. "I hate you." Then, half-opening one of his eyes, he checked the other's reaction. Yet, he could only see a well-known smiling French face resting on two refined hands elegantly entangled together in a soft bridge. His azure-sky eyes were staring curiously at him, glistening like morning stars. His calm breathing was as delicate as his heart beat, no, softer, as he could hear his heart ruthlessly slamming against his ribcage.

Arthur blinked. Not realising he was mirroring his curious stare into the other's limpid globes, he tilted his head to the side, eating hungrily every small detail of the beautiful picture in front of him. Soon he had to unfold his arms for his heartbeat had increased so rapidly he couldn't bear his bumping against his forearms. He coughed. Embarrassed, he reached for a bottle of beer and noticing the top was still on, he removed it with a precise movement of his knife. Smiling slightly, he parted his lips and gulped it down decisively.

Fluttering his eyelids, Francis disentangled his fingers and graciously offered his friend his bottle. Smiling unsurely, he lowered his brows in request. Grasping the bottle, Arthur repeated the firm gesture and handed it back. With a slightly excited grin, he took it back and holding it from the small base, he poured some beer in his glass until the foam was about to glide out.

Looking askance at him, Arthur soughed. Gazing through his glass, Francis murmured. Eying up at him, Arthur mumbled. Staring more intensely, Francis whispered. Placing down his beers, they both squinted. Grinning at each other with a questioning look, they both asked. "Something to say?"

Letting out a small laugh, they both answered "Yes, about you."

Chuckling briefly, Arthur said "You first."

Recovering, Francis replied. "Ah-ah. You first."

"No, please. You're the guest, you speak first."

"Oui, but you're the host, then it's your turn."

"Don't be daft! C'me on, what did you want to say?"

"Nothing."

"Bollocks."

"Don't be rude, mon chèr." And he took another sip.

"I'm not being rude, dear."

"You are being rude."

"I'm NOT!" He roared.

Francis looked at him in amazement.

"Sorry."

He smirked. "For what?"

"For attacking you. Sorry."

"Nenni. That's nothing."

"Then what were you saying before?"

Francis' brows furrowed. "When?"

"Before."

"Before... when?"

"Before before. When you were drinking."

"Ah, that before." He thought a little. "Nothing."

Arthur kept silent. Francis grinned.

"But you said you were talking about me."

"Hé bien, not everyone's talking about you, you selfish brat." He winked.

Arthur snorted incredulously. "Listen to who's talking!"

"Francis Bonnefois, at your service!"

"What kind of service?" He remarked raising an eyebrow.

"Any kind of services."

"Even doing my laundry?"

"And tidying your room, washing the dishes and fetching the groceries."

"Unbelievable." he exclaimed slouching in his chair. "And what's the price?"

"The price?" Something you'll never give me. He thought lowering his gaze.

Huffing, Arthur remarked. "Francis, I'm rooting! In two minutes birds will be flying over my head to build their nests, dammit! I expect you to feed them with some of your goddamn baguettes or I'll train them to beak you until you-"

"It'd be fun."

Arthur turned his head. "What?"

"You training the birds. I can imagine you all fussy and bastard shouting at them because they keep bathing in your tea. Not that the taste would change, but-"

"Don't you dare insult my tea!"

"Or what?"

"Or... or I won't pay you!"

Francis froze. "Arthur... you don't pay me."

Arthur sulked. "Well... If I did, you wouldn't be paid."

"Ouais, but just for today."

"No-no. Tomorrow, too."

"You're such a spoiled child."

"I'm not!" Blushing angrily, Arthur buried his head in his shoulder. "...It's your fault."

Francis exclaimed surprised. "But I did nothing!"

"It's your fault anyway!" Arthur claimed.

Silence fell between the two, when Francis replied. "My fault for what, exactly?"

Arthur looked away with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Your fault... for us now."

The quiet silence let Francis' mind allow a bad fantasy to creep in. "You don't like it?"

"What?" Arthur asked alarmed.

"You don't like me being here? With you?" he couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes.

"No! No! Not at all! What have you understood!" Arthur replied frightened, taking his trembling hands in his own. "I-I like when you're around, seriously!"

"You do?" His eyes already shining.

"Sure! Why would you be here, then?"

Francis smiled. "Dunno... Rearranging your furniture?"

"Nah, I would've called Ludwig." Arthur grinned.

"Thank you!" He said retiring his hands pretending to be offended.

"Not at all." Arthur smiled gentlemanly.

"Then why?" Francis teased.

"Mmmmh, let me think." And with that he stroke a thoughtful pose.

"You invite me and you even don't know why!" Francis played throwing his arms into the air. Then, pretending to blow his nose into the napkin he acted. "I'm sooooo mortified! Maman told me: 'Don't marry Arthur, he's an Englishman, asshole by definition!' He's make you soooooo unhap-" As a flying napkin hit him and shut his mouth, Arthur performed:

"What a man have I married! He just sit there and drink wine all day!"

"Red wine, please!"

"Shut up, I'm playing! Where were we...? Ah, yes! And... Francis, stop laughing! You're ruining my play!"

"But I love when you say it!"

Arthur frowned. "Say what?"

Acting like a baritone, Francis replied. "'Where were we?' You're so funny when you say it!"

Arthur looked at him like a madman. "Francis... That's English..."

Francis smiled rolling his head to the side. "It is,... 'indeed'." He said with the same low voice.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on his temples, shaking his head. "Why, why are we friends? Why?"

"Because you like me!"

"Neither a bit!"

"Awwww, come on! You know you like me! Everyone loves Frenchmen in the bottom of their heart... they just don't know they do!"

"Oh, poor things!" He mocked.

"They are! And they will never try real love... until they visit France, of course!"

Arthur gazed at him in wonder. How can he be so... funny? Stupid? Cute? No, wait, not cute. But look at him now, isn't he lovely tilting his head from side to side boasting the wonders of his motherland? "Francis, you're a git."

"Merci, Arthur! You never miss a chance to compliment on me, do you?"

"Arthur Kirkland without sarcasm?"

"MADNESS!" They stated together.

Chuckling, Francis asked. "Now, million Euros question."

Pretending to have headphones, Arthur reclined on the table. "I'm ready! I fear nothing! Ask me anything, baby, you'll get an answer!"

Francis laughed briefly before straightening up to speak like a quizmaster. "Ladies, welcome to our show!"

Arthur squinted. "Francis, there are also gentlemen!"

"Mais mon amour, you're the only one I need!" He teased. Arthur grumbled. "Now, here's the question! Why... is your fridge somewhat full?"

"Well, because..."

"Non-non-non! You have to choose! 1) God. Or Allah. Or Santa. Or one of your stupid faeries."

"They're not stupid!"

Francis raised his brows nodding slowly. "Oui. Eerr... Anyways. Any supernatural thing you may or mayn't believe in."

"No, this isn't bec-"

"I haven't finished!" He shouted. "2) You stole the fridge not knowing it was already full."

"Francis!"

"I know you kept wondering why it was so heavy, but mon chèr, we normal people put food into fridges. You know it? Food."

"Francis, you're a bastard."

"I love you too" and smacking he sent him a kiss. "Now, the last one!"

"Thank you, whoever you are..."

"Arthur, don't pray Odin when I'm talking!"

"You're worse than a wife, you know?"

Francis smiled contently and drummed on the table. "Oooooh, suspeeeence!"

Arthur's look expressed a great, long and astonishing insult.

"Number 3! You're not Arthur. Then, who. Are. You.?"

Arthur laughed.

Francis jumped on the chair pointing at him. "Je le savais! You're a-"

"But do you have cheese instead of a brain or you were born this way?"

"Hey, I've been fabulous since childhood!"

"Yes, living in a house without mirrors!"

"Oh, tais-toi!"

"Anyway, you asked about the food, right?"

Francis looked with interest in his eyes.

"Well, you know about the new art gallery in Soho, don't you? Last week Feliciano phoned me to get some tips on where to stay and I offered him to drop in and stay with me. Don't look at me like that, I felt alone and he's not as bad as you may think. Actually, he keeps good company. But he never closes his mouth, dammit! Anyway, he spent here a couple of days and you know what kind of guy he is, thankful for everything and so on, and so he brought me as much food as he could."

Francis smiled. "Typical of an Italian."

Arthur responded with another smile. "Well, what would you offer a foreigner, if not something of your country?"

Francis looked at the ceiling wondering. Then smiled. "You must be right. We're our country after all. Both what we are... and what we bring."

Arthur grinned satisfied. "I'm glad you agree." Then, glancing at his watch he stated. "Shall we go? The match is starting in what? Ten minutes?"

"Ten? Isn't it at 21?"

Arthur blinked.

Francis excused himself quickly. "Sorry... Anyway, wasn't it at 9?"

"No! It was at 8!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! You told me!"

"No-no, I told you at 9. I'd bet on that."

"Francis, Paris and London have different time zones..."

"Ops! Sorry... Forgot that."

Francis smiled, turned and collected the dirty dishes, placing them in the sink. He then bent to take the evil fork on the floor and placed it on top. Then turned and added. "But... that would make the Channel something like a time warp, wouldn't it?"

Arthur groaned. "No... not you too..."

"I mean, Arthur. What's the time on the Channel?"

"English Channel."

"La Manche. Anyway, what's the time there?" And so he rambled on, walking out of the room behind Arthur.

End Ch.5

Well, guys, Was it strange enough for you? A longer chapter with some dialogue and, well, I hope some nice jokes. Got any reference? xD