Arthur woke up extra early. As much as he hated waking up at three in the morning, he had to. He was going to beat the Frenchman at his own game and cook breakfast for himself early.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slowly made his way to the kitchen. He’d make himself a proper English breakfast: streaky bacon, eggs, toast, sausages and a cup of Earl Grey.
That will teach that frog bastard. He yawned. It really was too early to wake up
( ... )
Arthur had decided, since the second week of his stay in Paris when the French bastard started invading his home to make him delicious breakfast, that he would change his locks. Apparently, Francis had a knack at entering his home even when the door was double-bolted
( ... )
He stopped in his tracks. A man with black hair and grey eyes just passed him by. Could it be him? He didn’t know for sure. Should he ask?
Should he?
Arthur tapped the gent on the shoulder. The man turned around, revealing himself to be an extremely handsome man. His heart hammered against his chest, suddenly unsure of the idea.
“Excuse me, this may sound silly, but have you ever been to Beijing?”
The man looked at him, his brow arched. “Is it an English custom to randomly approach people with such poorly-thought out pick-up lines after Valentine’s day?”
The Englishman’s face reddened. Stupid stupid stupid.The man crossed his arms across his chest. “Terribly sorry. I don’t like Englishmen with gigantic brows.” The man walked off, leaving Arthur on the street laden with shops that had yet to remove their Valentine decorations, bathing in the Parisian streetlight
( ... )
After an entire month of failing, Arthur gave up on trying to keep Francis out.
Francis was relieved that he didn’t have to go so early anymore. He removed the bolts from the cupboards to celebrate.
“I thought you would never give up.”
“Apparently your Frenchness rubbed off on me. It’s probably your horrid food.”
“That’s funny; I seem to remember the British having an excellent talent for retreating back in Dunkirk. And if my food is horrid, yours does not even deserve to be in garbage.”
“Fuck you.”
“Perish the thought! I have standards, you know.”
Francis’ cheek was promptly acquainted with Arthur’s fist.
Day 38
Giving up on trying to keep him out translated to Francis’ tiny French brain as being welcomed to have breakfast with Arthur whenever he didn’t have time to go back to his place and eat. No amount of English unpleasantness and violence could persuade him otherwise.
Fuck.
Day 39Francis is a fast learner and has learned how to effectively dodge English fists. Needless to say, this annoyed Arthur even more
( ... )
Sip. “I certainly cannot fathom why you would keep wearing those fashion disasters you call vests. Hand-me-downs, I suppose?”
Teacup bangs on the table. “These are a proud and noble English tradition and you damn well know it, frog.”
“Ah like inedible food, tea, cynicism and vulgar words, I see. I didn’t really know much about the superior lack of taste the English had. Thank you for clarifying.”
It is important to note, that when dealing with an Englishman early in the morning, and one happens to be French, that the English have always had good aim when it came to projectiles and that they don’t care if you happen to be wearing an expensive Dior suit.
It is also important to note, the French do not appreciate it when you ruin their clothes and will not hesitate to express dissatisfaction in a rather violent manner involving your forehead and the table. Particularly if you are an Englishman.
Comments 45
Arthur woke up extra early. As much as he hated waking up at three in the morning, he had to. He was going to beat the Frenchman at his own game and cook breakfast for himself early.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slowly made his way to the kitchen. He’d make himself a proper English breakfast: streaky bacon, eggs, toast, sausages and a cup of Earl Grey.
That will teach that frog bastard. He yawned. It really was too early to wake up ( ... )
Reply
Arthur had decided, since the second week of his stay in Paris when the French bastard started invading his home to make him delicious breakfast, that he would change his locks. Apparently, Francis had a knack at entering his home even when the door was double-bolted ( ... )
Reply
He stopped in his tracks. A man with black hair and grey eyes just passed him by. Could it be him? He didn’t know for sure. Should he ask?
Should he?
Arthur tapped the gent on the shoulder. The man turned around, revealing himself to be an extremely handsome man. His heart hammered against his chest, suddenly unsure of the idea.
“Excuse me, this may sound silly, but have you ever been to Beijing?”
The man looked at him, his brow arched. “Is it an English custom to randomly approach people with such poorly-thought out pick-up lines after Valentine’s day?”
The Englishman’s face reddened. Stupid stupid stupid.The man crossed his arms across his chest. “Terribly sorry. I don’t like Englishmen with gigantic brows.” The man walked off, leaving Arthur on the street laden with shops that had yet to remove their Valentine decorations, bathing in the Parisian streetlight ( ... )
Reply
After an entire month of failing, Arthur gave up on trying to keep Francis out.
Francis was relieved that he didn’t have to go so early anymore. He removed the bolts from the cupboards to celebrate.
“I thought you would never give up.”
“Apparently your Frenchness rubbed off on me. It’s probably your horrid food.”
“That’s funny; I seem to remember the British having an excellent talent for retreating back in Dunkirk. And if my food is horrid, yours does not even deserve to be in garbage.”
“Fuck you.”
“Perish the thought! I have standards, you know.”
Francis’ cheek was promptly acquainted with Arthur’s fist.
Day 38
Giving up on trying to keep him out translated to Francis’ tiny French brain as being welcomed to have breakfast with Arthur whenever he didn’t have time to go back to his place and eat. No amount of English unpleasantness and violence could persuade him otherwise.
Fuck.
Day 39Francis is a fast learner and has learned how to effectively dodge English fists. Needless to say, this annoyed Arthur even more ( ... )
Reply
“Tell me, Arthur, are you lacking in funds?”
Grunt. “What are you on about now?”
Sip. “I certainly cannot fathom why you would keep wearing those fashion disasters you call vests. Hand-me-downs, I suppose?”
Teacup bangs on the table. “These are a proud and noble English tradition and you damn well know it, frog.”
“Ah like inedible food, tea, cynicism and vulgar words, I see. I didn’t really know much about the superior lack of taste the English had. Thank you for clarifying.”
It is important to note, that when dealing with an Englishman early in the morning, and one happens to be French, that the English have always had good aim when it came to projectiles and that they don’t care if you happen to be wearing an expensive Dior suit.
It is also important to note, the French do not appreciate it when you ruin their clothes and will not hesitate to express dissatisfaction in a rather violent manner involving your forehead and the table. Particularly if you are an Englishman.
Reply
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