"Did you enjoy your trip?" Francis asked, smiling at Arthur who was looking out the small window after the plane had took off to get one last glimpse of Rio. Arthur nodded. "Can't wait to see the other photos as well. The ones not related to that crazy night, you know," he answered, taking out a book from his bag. "Oh come now, Arthùr, it wasn't that bad."
Once again they were the only ones of the six friends who were on the Amsterdam-London-Rio-London-Amsterdam jet. Kiku had went with Alfred to the states because of some business and Gilbert alongside with Antonio had decided to stay in Rio for a few more days to "chart the place" or rather, mess around and get some. "I don't even want to think of the weather there," Francis said and sighed as he looked at the clear blue sky and the Sun shining. "Well, better get used to the thought - we'll be there in 18 hours," Arthur replied and gave his friend a smirk.
A good ten hours into the flight Francis was the only one not sleeping. Making his way back from the lavatory he noted how every person was sleeping in the dimly lit plane and so was Arthur. He quietly sat beside him and cursed himself for his irrational fear of dying while sleeping during a flight. "I lived a good life," he told himself each time there was a little turbulence while the others were asleep. He was tired and frustrated and there was nothing he could do about it. From respect to others' and to Arthur's need for sleep he didn't want to turn on his small light on the panel above him, so there was no way he could read something. He couldn't use his laptop either due to in-flight regulations and his walkman had run out of batteries too. Neither did he know where Arthur had put his. He was thinking of making another trip around the plane and talk to some of the cute flight attendants when the Brit suddenly woke up gasping, slightly scaring Francis. Arthur looked around himself with eyes ready to pop out for a few seconds before leaning back against his seat, cold sweat covering his forehead. "Hey, you alright?" Francis asked, concerned. Arthur slowly nodded and swallowed hard. He emptied his water bottle and sighed, looking outside. "Just a bad dream," he mumbled. "What was it about?" the Frenchman asked, a little curious why his friend was fidgeting like that. Arthur hesitated before answering. Finally he turned to Francis and said, almost dramatically, since he knew his friend wouldn't like his answer: "I saw the plane we're on crash. It was in flames and all." As he suspected, Francis' face turned white as chalk. "I want to walk around," Arthur said and shimmied over Francis who couldn't move from fright. With a smug smile on his face, the Brit went on a stroll around the plane to stretch his legs.
After five minutes he returned with two bottles of juice to see Francis clinging to his seat. "Why the fuck did you have to tell me?" he hissed at Arthur when he took the bottle Arthur was giving him. "You asked," the Brit answered simply and looked Francis gulp down the entire bottle. "I knew you couldn't sleep during flights, but you're telling me you're mortified of flying?" Francis shrugged, feeling a little tired. "Only when someone tells me the plane might crash... Or when there is some turbulence... Or..." he yawned and started to doze off. A minute later he was fast asleep, leaning on Arthur. Arthur put his pillow under his friend's head and dimly turning on his light, he continued to knit a pair of gloves.
Francis woke up to Arthur shaking him. "Fasten your seat-belt, we're going to land soon," he said when his friend had come to. Francis lazily clipped it on and rubbed his eyes. "What on earth... I actually fell asleep? For how long?" he asked. "For about 8 hours," Arthur casually replied and looked out the window only to see dense clouds. "What? Ugh, how?" the Frenchman couldn't believe his ears and became a little agitated when the plane started to make different sounds as it was getting ready to land. "Well, I roofied you," his friend answered just as casually and looked at him with a grin. For a few moments Francis just stared at him, dumbfounded. "What?!" he yelled over the plane, getting some weird looks from passengers around them. Arthur laughed. "Well, not really. When I went to stretch my legs I got us some juice, remember? I asked one of the flight attendants to put some of that sleeping tincture in it, you see. I was a little worried since you've been up for such a long time anyway and the flight was going to last for 8 hours more. And well, here we are," he explained. Francis gruffly sighed, not believing his friend would do something like that. Then it hit him that Arthur had just done something he had felt was the right thing to do, considering Francis' health. "What a sweet thing to do, Angleterre," he said with a slight tone of sarcasm and softly punched him in the arm. "Oh come on, don't you get all sentimental with me now, frog," the Brit laughed and they continued to chatter about lesser things until the plane landed.
As they suspected, the weather in London was dreadful. Instead of the chilly winter they had left behind they came to drenched city, the sort of weather usually known in March, when all the snow melts away. "A lot can change in two weeks," Francis said when they were signaling for a cab. Arthur sighed, almost melancholically. "Indeed," he replied and sat on his suitcase. Francis didn't know what to make of this and just regarded it as fatigue from the long flight. After finally managing to get a taxi, they made their way through the sulky capital. Halfway through, Arthur suddenly slapped his forehead. "What is it, did you leave something behind?" Francis asked, surprised of the sudden movement. "No, I just remembered that I have to drive to Edinburgh to get Bosey," Arthur just sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.