And he shall be called...Lundy [2/2]
anonymous
June 5 2009, 11:55:30 UTC
As terrified as Arthur was, he knew he had to intervene before the idiot did some serious damage to himself or the baby. “F - Francis!” he grabbed both his arms, pulling him away from his dear wall. “Dammit, stop you git, you’ll hurt the kid!”
“So you care about the baby more than me?!” Francis shouted.
“No!”
“So you don’t care about our child?!”
“N - Oh, bloody hell, Francis, your hormones are horrible!”
“I’m merging with Canada!”
“Don’t you bloody dare!” Arthur snapped. His patience was wearing dangerously thin but, seeing the hurt expression that came over Francis’ face - as melodramatic as it was - he quickly softened. “I - I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want to make it up to you,” he murmured, kissing Francis’ hair.
Francis bowed his head. “F - Food,” he mumbled.
“Huh?”
“I want burnt scones.”
“Uh...ah, sure thing! Just wait a moment!” Arthur rushed to the kitchen in order to start cooking.
The further Francis got into pregnancy the weirder he became - Arthur used the word weirder since Francis was already quite weird to begin with. He would never have dreamt that Francis would ever request his cooking unless they were taking part in publicly burning it to even greater cinders but he could not help but feel a wave or pride that Francis had finally seen the good points in his cooking.
As weird as it was, Arthur was oddly excited about parenthood - and he swore he would not make the same mistakes he had with his previous colonies this time! No, no heavy taxation this time, no extortion or exploitation. Well, maybe a little...
“It’s done!” Arthur called Francis into the kitchen. He served lumps of black soot onto Francis’ plate as he took his seat at the table.
Without a word of protest, or even a look of revulsion, Francis picked up his fork and hungrily shoved the cinders into his mouth.
“It’s good, mon cher.”
“I’m glad pregnancy has corrected your taste buds at least.”
Francis nodded absently and held up his now empty plate. “More.”
“Of course!” Arthur beamed with delight. He watched Francis quickly polish off another helping.
Francis cleaned his mouth with a napkin before turning to fix Arthur with the same intense stare. “Still hungry,” he said bluntly, foregoing his usual eloquence.
“Hang on, I’ll make you some more,” Arthur said, taking Francis’ plate.
Francis shook his head and slid it out of Arthur’s grip, placing the plate on the other end of the table, out of reach. “No, no, mon cher, I have a different kind of appetite that needs to be sated,” he whispered and promptly grabbed Arthur by his tie, forcing him down until their lips met.
“Bloody hell, despite everything you’re still the same pervert deep down inside, aren’t you?” Arthur smiled against Francis’ lips and deepened the kiss.
“So you care about the baby more than me?!” Francis shouted.
“No!”
“So you don’t care about our child?!”
“N - Oh, bloody hell, Francis, your hormones are horrible!”
“I’m merging with Canada!”
“Don’t you bloody dare!” Arthur snapped. His patience was wearing dangerously thin but, seeing the hurt expression that came over Francis’ face - as melodramatic as it was - he quickly softened. “I - I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I’m sorry, I’ll do anything you want to make it up to you,” he murmured, kissing Francis’ hair.
Francis bowed his head. “F - Food,” he mumbled.
“Huh?”
“I want burnt scones.”
“Uh...ah, sure thing! Just wait a moment!” Arthur rushed to the kitchen in order to start cooking.
The further Francis got into pregnancy the weirder he became - Arthur used the word weirder since Francis was already quite weird to begin with. He would never have dreamt that Francis would ever request his cooking unless they were taking part in publicly burning it to even greater cinders but he could not help but feel a wave or pride that Francis had finally seen the good points in his cooking.
As weird as it was, Arthur was oddly excited about parenthood - and he swore he would not make the same mistakes he had with his previous colonies this time! No, no heavy taxation this time, no extortion or exploitation. Well, maybe a little...
“It’s done!” Arthur called Francis into the kitchen. He served lumps of black soot onto Francis’ plate as he took his seat at the table.
Without a word of protest, or even a look of revulsion, Francis picked up his fork and hungrily shoved the cinders into his mouth.
“It’s good, mon cher.”
“I’m glad pregnancy has corrected your taste buds at least.”
Francis nodded absently and held up his now empty plate. “More.”
“Of course!” Arthur beamed with delight. He watched Francis quickly polish off another helping.
Francis cleaned his mouth with a napkin before turning to fix Arthur with the same intense stare. “Still hungry,” he said bluntly, foregoing his usual eloquence.
“Hang on, I’ll make you some more,” Arthur said, taking Francis’ plate.
Francis shook his head and slid it out of Arthur’s grip, placing the plate on the other end of the table, out of reach. “No, no, mon cher, I have a different kind of appetite that needs to be sated,” he whispered and promptly grabbed Arthur by his tie, forcing him down until their lips met.
“Bloody hell, despite everything you’re still the same pervert deep down inside, aren’t you?” Arthur smiled against Francis’ lips and deepened the kiss.
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