"Wait up!" Francis gasped, "Why are you running so fast-"
"I'm due home in one hour," Arthur hissed, his face still a bit pale despite the run, "Now shut up, bloody frog!"
Francis tried to give Arthur a smirk, but he was too busy trying to keep up.
Finally, Arthur stopped in front of a several white rose bushes.
Francis skidded to a stop, gasping with relief and trying to recover his breath.
"If you don't want to do this-" He began.
"Shut up!" Arthur snapped, "Just follow me, you wanker!"
"Is 'wanker' an insult word?" Francis wondered.
"Obviously," Arthur growled, walking towards an open gap in the rose bushes. Francis hurried to follow him.
"But what exactly does it mean? Some sort of term you English people use for Frenchmen?"
"Why don't you use the research skills you've hopefully learned at ERU and look the word up?"
"Can't you just tell me?" Francis whined.
"We're here," Arthur said abruptly, coming to a sudden stop, causing Francis to collide into him.
Arthur yelped, and shoved Francis back. Francis stumbled, his balance teetering. In a desperate attempt to stabilize himself, he reached out and grabbed Arthur's waist, accidentally pulling ARthur towards him.
Arthur, panicking and teetering too, threw his arms around Francis.
Of course, it wasn't actually that romantic. Their foreheads collided sharply, causing both of them to yelp in pain. Arthur glared at him, his green eyes bright with fury.
Trying to save his dignity, Francis hurriedly smirked and said, "Like what you see?"
"Frog," Arthur growled, shoving Francis away.
Francis smiled, looking around, "So where are we?"
The two stood in a grove with a tiny pond and a rusted bench. Overhead, the sunlight was filtered due to tall trees that stood in a semicircle. The rest of the grove's border was made out of white rose bushes.
"A place that I found," Arthur mumbled.
"It's very beautiful," Francis offered.
"Thank you," Arthur muttered, "Why don't we sit down?"
Francis nodded. He and Arthur sat on the rusted bench. Despite it's age, it was actually pretty comfortable.
"So," Arthur said, turning to Francis, "What was it you wanted to speak with me about?"
Despite Arthur's attempts to rein in his emotions, Francis could tell that the Brit was scared. His lips was pressed in a thin line, and his face was deathly white.
"I wanted to apologize," Francis whispered, staring deeply into ARthur's eyes.
"P-pardon?"
"I shouldn't have been so… blunt about things at Delmonico's. I understand that you have your limits, and I want to respect them. Nothing should be forced upon anyone if they don't want to do it. So… will you please forgive me?"
"I-" Arthur stammered, "I- well… of course! I mean… we all make mistakes! It's fine… you're kinda- argh!"
Francis smiled at him while he rambled on, feeling relieved.
"Merci," He whispered.
Arthur stopped his rambling, apparently having heard Francis.
After a moment of silence, Arthur finally murmured,
"Thank you."
"Why?" Francis asked, feeling confused. He hadn't done anything special.
"F-for caring about what I feel," Arthur said, "No one else really did. My father- he isn't the most supportive person in the world."
Arthur froze, inhaling rapidly.
Francis gently placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"So you father didn't support your choices?"
Arthur shook his head quickly, "No! I mean- I just did what he told me to. It's my brothers- they…"
Arthur trailed off, staring up ahead.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Francis murmured, "I'm always here if you need someone to talk to."
Arthur nodded gratefully.
"Give me your arm," He said, after taking a couple of deep breaths.
Francis allowed Arthur to take his arm in both hands, while staring at him quizzically.
Arthur rolled up Francis's sleeves, his mere touch sending a chill down the Frenchman's spine. Then, taking out a pen from his pocket, Arthur wrote something on Francis's arm in an elegant script.
"It's my phone number," Arthur snapped, "We can't have you running around the park screaming for me again."
"How did you-"
"A couple of lady joggers were talking about a crazy man with a stubble and chin-length hair running around screaming for an "Alistair."
"Oh," Francis said, turning bright red.
"They were debating calling the police," Arthur continued, "Don't know why they didn't. But…" He stared directly into Francis's eyes with a smirk, "I'm glad they didn't."
Francis blushed, smiling back at Arthur.
"Well…" Francis smirked, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind having my phone number."
It was Arthur's turn to blush.
"Here," He said, holding out his book, Pride and Prejudice, "Write it on the inside cover."
Taking Arthur's pen from him, Francis hurriedly scrawled his phone number on the inside cover.
"Your handwriting is beautiful," Arthur complimented.
"Merci," Francis purred, "You know what else is beautiful?"
Arthur groaned, smacking him in the face.
"Not this pickup line again!" Arthur groaned, "All of my brothers except for one uses it! I'm bloody sick of it!"
"I was about to say 'me'" Francis muttered, earning him another light-hearted smack.
"Well," Arthur said, standing up, looking a bit reluctant, "I suppose I must go now. Wouldn't want to miss supper."
Francis smiled, "Au revoir, mon petit lapin!"
Arthur smiled back, though his smile was faint, "Goodbye, frog. I'll be expecting you here Tuesday?"
Then he left the grove, his scarf fluttering in the wind.
It took Francis a couple of seconds to snap out of his shock.
"D-did he just ask me out on a date?" He asked a squirrel.
The squirrel chucked a nut at his head.
"I do believe he did," Francis said, "I do believe he did."
12/10/2016
I fail at romantic human interactions. Both in writing and real life.
Ah, well. I'll make up for it with interesting non-romantic interactions!
And it's only a little more than two weeks until Christmas! And Christmas break! Huzzah!