~*~

Chapter Twenty-Two: Your Cinderella

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Arthur opened his eyes blearily. He had a sneaking suspicion he had just had another naked dream involving him and Johnny Depp. At least this time said movie star was dressed as Captain Jack and not Sweeny Todd, God that had scared Arthur half to death. But, pirates ruled and so the naked dream involving pirate Johnny wasn't that bad.

But he had another sneaking suspicion that he was not in his own bed. He would never paint his walls that tinted blue color, and he definitely didn't follow French soccer, much less Paris Saint-Germain. He was more of an Arsenal fan. (That's British soccer, for you nonbelievers.)

He blinked again. French soccer… blue… oh bugger. There went the time-bomb: he was in Francis's room… on his bed…

"Morning, sleepy-head…" A lightly accented voice said in his ear.

The Englishman turned to see that Francis was behind him on the bed, looking quite comfortable with his hand propping his head up and the whole Greek-God-lying-on-his-side look. He was gorgeous, to say the least.

"G-Good m-morning, Francis…" Arthur said, panicking. Had they…? "Did you… did we…?"

Francis laughed and pointed. Arthur was still fully clothed in the clothes he had worn the night before. They were slightly rumpled, but otherwise… it seemed nothing had happened.

"You passed out after the party, and I didn't want to bring you to your house because… well Matthew fled early, and Alfred seemed a little sad. So, because they needed to work things out without you there, I took you home with me," Francis replied.

Arthur was confused, "And you couldn't just put me in the guest room?" he asked.

"No… I don't have one because Sesel sleeps in what was once a guest room…" Francis replied.

"Your…"

"… Maid, Arthur…"

"Right… so why not the couch? Or is that coveted by your dog?" Arthur asked, starting to get a little feisty.

"Actually, yes. I have a French poodle named Fifi… and she lives on the couch…" Francis replied, "Unless you would have rather slept with the dog—"

"Starting to think that was a better idea…" Arthur grumbled.

Francis pouted slightly, "Arty… I thought you had come around last night when you let me kiss you…"

Shit. Shishitshit. Double shit. Triple shit. Arthur was a bloody idiot. He had totally forgotten his kiss with Francis. He was never drinking again. Ever. It was about nine in the morning, and he was getting a giant headache from the drinking last night.

"It wasn't what you think. I was drunk…" he said, "I would have kissed Vash of all people…"

"Poor man. I hope he makes his move on Roddy soon…" Francis mused, then he glanced down at the Englishmen under his covers, "That being said, you didn't resist it, and you were off in a corner, growling at everyone who approached you. You didn't growl at me, mon coeur."

Arthur knew he was trapped now. Come to think of it, the alcohol had just made him more loose and had made him more willing to take his chances with Francis. Just Francis. Because Francis was the one Arthur wanted…

"All… All right. So I let you kiss me…" Arthur finally said after a few moments.

Francis blinked. He had thought the Brit would struggle, maybe deny it some more. Then the Frenchman smirked. So he was right. Arthur was coming around… Arthur saw the twisted smile on his host's face and his green eyes widened. "What?"

"You really are warming up to me, mon cher…" Francis purred.

Arthur blushed at the Frenchman's tone, but didn't quite deny it, "I warmed up to you a long time ago, actually…" he confessed.

Francis blinked, his smile fading, "Oh?"

Arthur blushed deeper. He might as well tell all. Francis was right in front of him, and they were alone. Alfred wasn't there to laugh at him later, and Matthew wasn't there to make him worried and nervous.

"Yeah… I… was only shocked when you went to the guys' side of the room back in kindergarten… and I might have been really embarrassed about the revelation and… well… it carried on throughout our school days, I guess. But… I've always admired you. I… I wanted to be your Prince…" Arthur said.

Francis blinked, "Then why didn't you tell me sooner?" he asked.

Arthur sighed, the blush still apparent on his pale cheeks, "I'm… stubborn?"

"You're evading the question, is what you're doing, Arty. Out with a real answer…"

Arthur sighed, "Well… remember when I started working for your family?"

Francis nodded. When the neighboring boys were in high school, Arthur was short on some money, and his mother wouldn't allow her boys an allowance (because there were four boys), so Arthur was forced to do odd jobs for neighbors. But between his four brothers and him, he got the short straw and had to work next door for the Bonnefoys.

"Yes… you were a cute pool boy," Francis told him, smirking lightly at the memory.

Arthur slapped him on the arm, "Stop it! I know you're remembering me when I lost my swim trunks in the pool that day."

Francis's eyebrows shot up, "Now that you mention it…"

"Shit."

"Sorry… go on," Francis pressed.

Arthur tried to rub the blush off his cheeks, and Francis resisted teasing the other about it.

"I… I thought I was only a second-rate Cinderella. You… you were the Princess of the castle, and I was just one of the servants in your house… no matter what… I thought you would never actually want to be with me because what I did to you and what I was back then. Even when Alfred and I got that job with you and Ludwig at the café I thought… that I would never be anything to you…" Arthur explained.

As Francis listened to the other male, he shifted closer to the Brit, and so when Arthur ended his story, the Frenchman was pressed against Arthur. Arthur finally noticed the position they were in: Francis pressed up against his side. Feeling awkward, he turned his body so that his front was up against Francis's.

"You know what happened to Cinderella, right?" Francis murmured, his mouth almost inches from Arthur's.

"Yes…" Arthur replied, a little put off.

"So you know that she fits the glass slipper, and marries the Prince because of it?" Francis asked, his breath intoxicating Arthur almost to the brink of madness.

"Right… so what?" Arthur asked.

"So your Princess just found the boy who matches the glass slipper…" Francis replied, and pressed his lips against Arthur's.

Arthur felt his heart thump in his chest violently, and could distinctly hear the ringing of the phone downstairs. Francis pulled away, scoffing as he listened. When he heard Sesel pick it up he nodded and smirked down at the Englishman once more, "She's a good girl, that Sesel… now where were we?"

"You were just kissing me…" Arthur replied, smirking back.

Francis smiled and pushed Arthur's shoulder so that he was once more on his back. Then he proceeded to get up and straddle the Englishman, who gasped lightly as warm fingers found their way under his shirt. Francis once again came forward and kissed Arthur on the mouth, then on his jaw bone, all the way down to the skin just before his shirt, but by the time he got there, the shirt was already unbuttoned and hanging off of the green-eyed male.

"Francis…" Arthur gasped.

Francis looked at him, "Am I going to fast?"

"No! If anything, we've been wanting it for a long time…" Arthur reasoned, "It's just… Have you… loved me as long as I have?"

Francis simply kissed him lightly before replying, "We'll just say, I wanted to be your Princess since my coronation before school started…"

Arthur put his weight on his elbows to push himself up to kiss the other male. When their lips touched, he pushed up a little higher so that he could throw his arms around the Frenchman and pull him down so that their chests touched. After a few minutes of passionate kissing, Francis pushed himself up and proceeded to unbutton his shirt. The Brit glanced up at the Frenchman's frame before his eyes lingered on the bulge in his pants. He smiled and put his hand on the other man's belt buckle. Francis looked down, his shirt halfway unbuttoned.

"May I?" Arthur asked.

Francis blinked, "Will you be mine?"

Arthur glanced up at him, an almost lovesick smile on his face, "Of course I will be, Francis. You're still my Princess…"

And with that, Francis allowed Arthur to undo the belt buckle…

~*~

And then... well... you get the idea. Sorry it took so long. I had a separate fic for the Entente Cordiale, and then I just got insanely busy. I apologize a thousand times.

In other news... you will get your Canada x America just as soon as possible. It's just... it's France x UK, guys, SERIOUSLY. This is my OTP. I treat them specially in this fic, I really do. But Canada is just as important (because he kind of started everything, am I right?) -sighs-

Now I'm going to go get some well-deserved sleep. Please review. More reviews means I might actually remember that I have to update. Seriously. I am that scatter-brained.

Adieu~