The FrUK Chronicles

Today was Friday, Francis never goes into work on Fridays and Saturdays. He's put the place in the hands of his other staff, trusts them to make all brides look beautiful, and not to take anyone into the back room. He rolled over and looked out the window. It was currently five in the morning. He had no idea why he was awake, he just woke up and could not fall back asleep. He rolled over once more, facing away from the city lights. Eventually he sighed in despair as he left the warmth of his bed and stalked into the kitchen. He flinched as his bare feet hit the cold, hardwood flooring of the kitchen and again as the harsh, bright lights flicked on. He pulled his hair into a high ponytail and pulled on an apron...Might as well make something in his free time. As he pulled his ingredients from the cabinet, he decided he wanted to text Arthur. ~Je suis un idiot!~ he thought, angrily smacking the sugar jar on the counter ~There's no way he's up...Besides! I do not even own my love’s number~ Francis gasped at the thought. His love. He's never thought of the gentleman like that. Sure he's thought of kissing him and seeing him every day...He never told himself that he was falling for the Brit since he seemed not to share the love back. He shook his head as he continued with his crepes, slowly putting his ingredients into a bowl. The eggs, the flour, then the sugar... He had to find a way to see the man today, but how. An idea smashed into his brain and quickly, he dumped more and more mixture into his bowl. He was going to make a shit-ton of crepes. He got two pans on the stove at once, heating them. The speaker was hooked to his phone so he could listen to the beautiful songs of his country while he scrambled to make twenty or more crepes to take to his crush’s apartment. He chuckled at the word ‘crush’...He had not had one of those in awhile. He sang along, not too loud, as seven o'clock approached. Smiling, he diced fruits, melted chocolate, put them into separate containers and dashed to get ready. He knew Arthur left for work at ten, so if he could get to his home at eight thirty, they would be able to eat together. Francis’ stomach growled but he ignored it and continued to apply a billion hair products into his blond hair. He decided to wear something more casual. He threw on a navy cardigan over a white t-shirt, skinny jeans, white converse, a French flag scarf (one of his favorite accessories) and a brown belt that no one could see unless his shirt rode up. While he brushed his teeth he decided that he didn't have time for contacts and retrieved his glasses and before he left he pulled his unruly hair back into a ponytail again and off he went, crepe containers in hand. Once he got to the door, he hesitated...What if the adorable man was still sleeping? He pressed his ear against the door to hear the news on inside and a faucet running. Then, he plastered on a smile and knocked on the white door separating the two.

------

Arthur put the towel under the sink again. He burnt his scones and had to throw them out. His apartment smelled of smoke and the counter tops were covered in flour and other appliances. He ran a damp hand through his hair as he heard a knock on his door. ~What is someone doing here at eight thirty in the morning?!~ he trudged to the door, peeking into the peephole to see Francis. ~FRANCIS?!~ he nearly fell on his ass when he leapt back from the door. He quickly flung open the windows to let out the smoke smell and threw his robe into his bedroom before opening the front door.
“Francis? What are you doing here?” He asked, hoping he didn't sound rude.
“I know you're a working man, and I decided to make you breakfast. I hope you like crepes...I woke up early and could not fall back asleep so I just made a whole bunch” Arthur stood in the doorway, staring. 〜he made him breakfast?〜
“Uh- Yes come on in” The frog smiled at him and flounced into his apartment.
“I never did ask you where you work…’” He said as he began to set out the crepes, trying to start a casual conversation.
“I’m a receptionist in a way...I kind of go between a worker who writes reports all the time to fetching coffee when the boss calls for it”
“Well that sounds pretty tiring”
“Damn right” Arthur remarked before plopping down into one of the wooden chairs sat at his kitchen table. He caught a smirk on Francis’ face.
“Well you don’t seem to enjoy it there huh?”
“Not one bit, no” A crepe was set onto his plate, it had chocolate and fruits on the side. What Francis said next almost made Arthur choke on said crepe.
“Well, just keep in mind that I have a few positions open back at my shoppe” He said it so nonchalantly. How often did offer to hire people after making them breakfast? Probably none. Arthur found himself staring and Francis looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment before regaining his composure.
“Or not-”
“No!” Arthur said quickly, making Francis jump “I-I mean no. I might have to take you up on that offer...What would I have to do?” Francis beamed a bit as he sat down with a crepe of his own and began to explain all of the job positions he had open. Arthur was only paying a third of his attention of the words coming from his mouth though. He was busy admiring the taste of the crepes...And the man who made them

-------

Francis felt like he was rambling but he received many nods from the Brit, assuring that he was somewhat intelligible.
“-And you would have to answer the phones for that job as well. We all share the duty of dealing with complaints or reservations. Usually I’m in the showroom but, I do help on the phone from time to time” Francis decided to shut up and eat his breakfast.
“Those all sound much better than what i’m doing now” Arthur muttered. Francis heard him, not sure if the words were aimed at him or not, and it made his heart flutter a bit at the thought of being with Arthur all the time. If he did take one of the jobs, Francis would definitely go to work more often.
“Oh bollocks!” Arthur yelled jumping from his seat “It's 9:45!” He dashed to his room shouting apologies back to Francis, saying something about being rude for leaving his guest. Francis helped himself to the kettle and began heating water for the Englishman. After a few minutes he ran into the living room looking for his shoes and belt. Francis tried to help but didn’t have a clue where they could be...He’s only been on the other man’s house twice now. Eventually he found the black dress shoes and slipped them on. He ran a hand through his blond, messy hair and came into the kitchen with a toothbrush in his mouth.
“I’m going to make you tea”
“Yuh dant hahv to”
“Of course I do cher! You're already in a rush so I should be polite and help you”
“It’s naht a bug deal” Arthur replied before spitting into the sink. He wiped his mouth and went back to the bathroom. The water seemed hot enough and Francis put a tea bag into a cup with the hot water, hoping he was doing it right...He is more of a coffee person so he has not done this in forever.
“Francis you really don’t need to do that” Arthur said again as he came back past the kitchen and into the hall, looking for a jacket most likely, as Francis willed the tea to seep faster.
“Non Arthur! Focus on getting ready” For a moment, he felt as if they lived together, and he was rushing his husband out the door so he could help make money for the family. He shook the thought away...Most likely, that would never happen. Francis dunked the tea bag up and down over and over before dumping the whole cups contents, tea bag included, into metal coffee cup and twisting on the lid. Arthur finally came into the kitchen to retrieve his tea from Francis.
“Thank you so much” he said, their hands brushing as he took the war cup “I owe you”
“You don’t owe me a thing darling” Francis replied, smiling
“You can stay here if you want...If you're going to leave though, please lock the door behind you and close the windows...If you can get the blasted things to close” Francis laughed at the man, assured him that his apartment was in good hands and was then left in the home of his love alone. He sat on the couch and wrapped his arms around one of the British flag pillows...It smelled like smoke. Not only the tobacco smoke, Francis smoked sometimes too and knew the scent, but as if something had been burnt. It also smelled like Arthur's cologne and the sweet smell of tea. It was an odd combination...But it fit the Brit perfectly. What was on his recording list shocked him too. He had America's Got Talent, Hell’s Kitchen, Judge Judy, Sherlock (Not too surprising), Supernatural and many more. He decided that he would find a movie to watch instead so he chose one with a very popular, funny, American woman, Melissa McCarthy. The movie was about her as a millionaire who loses all of her money and sells brownies with a former coworker. He really enjoys the movie...But he ends up falling asleep halfway through, his early rising beginning to take its toll.

To be continued