Needle and Thread
Title: Needle and Thread
Rating: PG
Summary: There is a certain point that is crossed when you start to mend your Significant Other's clothes. Arthur and Francis do their best to address this without actually talking about it.
Explanation: The prompt was to write a whole dialogue scene without using any dialogue tags, so I hope that's not too distracting? I only halfway failed with one line, but I still think it's a reasonable success.
Notes: Same universe as The Cream Coat and Bonnefoy in the Library with the Book
Needle and Thread
“Cher, do you know how to sew?”
Arthur looked up, still chewing on the eraser of his pencil, and stared at Francis in some bemusement. “What is that? A sweater?”
“Somebody sent it to me last Christmas.” Francis frowned at the thick white material and stretched it between his hands. He poked one finger through the hole in the stitching at the side and wiggled it about, as though to emphasize how much of a gap there really was. “I like it, though-nice to lay around in on the weekends.”
“I’ve… never seen you in it.”
“That’s because there’s a hole in it.” Francis widened his blue eyes pleadingly and held the sweater out like he was offering Arthur his firstborn child. “You do know how to mend it, don’t you? I promise I’ll change right after you’re done, if you want me to.”
The tips of Arthur’s ears turned pink. He could feel them. “I’m trying to do homework, you fool. The edited version of this paper is due tomorrow.”
“Oh, you can write that in two minutes, forget about it.” Francis came over and dropped onto the couch beside him, draping himself across the cushion in that way he had, where his waist somehow got longer and he relaxed around his hips. He dropped the sweater on top of Arthur’s book, skewing the papers, and then plucked the pencil from his fingers. His eyebrows arched. “You do know what an eraser is really for, don’t you?”
“Leave off.” Arthur glowered at him. It was a spectacular glower-he was quite proud of it. “Just for that, I won’t mend your precious sweater.”
Francis’ lower lip quivered, and he flung himself around Arthur’s scrawny shoulders, almost pushing him into the arm of the couch in his enthusiasm. With a huff of exasperation, Arthur tried to push him off, though Francis seemed to have as many limbs as an octopus.
“Take it back, Arthur, swear you won’t leave us like this!” Arthur had always thought that Francis would have been a good actor-a bit melodramatic, but he had seen enough plays to know that there was always a character like that.
He simply rolled his eyes at Francis’ antics and crossed his arms, lifting his chin. “Fix that hole yourself if you’re so keen on it.”
“But I don’t know how!” Francis wheedled at him, still leaning his chest against Arthur’s upper arm, and he had never seen a grown man put on such a display.
“You look like a toddler who wants some candy.”
Francis pounced. “Is it working? Maybe you’re the candy I’m looking for, cher, and-”
“Oh, stop it!” Whole face red, Arthur snatched up the sweater and pushed it into Francis’ face until the damned man let him go, laughing.
“Does that mean you’ll mend it?”
“Fine.” Arthur huffed again and pulled at the hole himself, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. It was quite soft, though now that he had made all of this fuss, he wasn’t going to tell Francis so. “Fetch my sewing kit-I think I hid it in your bathroom. Maybe under the sink?”
“Anything you want, darling.” Francis smiled and kissed the tip of his nose before bounding off the couch and vanishing down the hall. Arthur slid lower in his seat and pushed his books and papers aside, sliding his hand into the sleeve to feel the way it gave around his wrist. If he inhaled-which he wasn’t, by the way-it smelled like Francis. The very thought only made his face redder.
A cry of triumph echoed from down the hall, and Francis came back, the small kit clutched triumphantly in his fist. “Behind the glass cleaner and under the drain unblocker, oh yes, Arthur, that is reasonable.” But he was smiling, and he deposited the plastic box on Arthur’s lap, ever-so-subtly slipping his arm around his waist.
“Oh, do shut up.” And Arthur didn’t hide his pleasure very well, either, as he threaded the needle and started to stitch the hole back up. Francis was warm and solid against his side, quiet, watching, and his fingers rubbed slight, soothing circles into Arthur’s sharp hip.
Rating: PG
Summary: There is a certain point that is crossed when you start to mend your Significant Other's clothes. Arthur and Francis do their best to address this without actually talking about it.
Explanation: The prompt was to write a whole dialogue scene without using any dialogue tags, so I hope that's not too distracting? I only halfway failed with one line, but I still think it's a reasonable success.
Notes: Same universe as The Cream Coat and Bonnefoy in the Library with the Book
Needle and Thread
“Cher, do you know how to sew?”
Arthur looked up, still chewing on the eraser of his pencil, and stared at Francis in some bemusement. “What is that? A sweater?”
“Somebody sent it to me last Christmas.” Francis frowned at the thick white material and stretched it between his hands. He poked one finger through the hole in the stitching at the side and wiggled it about, as though to emphasize how much of a gap there really was. “I like it, though-nice to lay around in on the weekends.”
“I’ve… never seen you in it.”
“That’s because there’s a hole in it.” Francis widened his blue eyes pleadingly and held the sweater out like he was offering Arthur his firstborn child. “You do know how to mend it, don’t you? I promise I’ll change right after you’re done, if you want me to.”
The tips of Arthur’s ears turned pink. He could feel them. “I’m trying to do homework, you fool. The edited version of this paper is due tomorrow.”
“Oh, you can write that in two minutes, forget about it.” Francis came over and dropped onto the couch beside him, draping himself across the cushion in that way he had, where his waist somehow got longer and he relaxed around his hips. He dropped the sweater on top of Arthur’s book, skewing the papers, and then plucked the pencil from his fingers. His eyebrows arched. “You do know what an eraser is really for, don’t you?”
“Leave off.” Arthur glowered at him. It was a spectacular glower-he was quite proud of it. “Just for that, I won’t mend your precious sweater.”
Francis’ lower lip quivered, and he flung himself around Arthur’s scrawny shoulders, almost pushing him into the arm of the couch in his enthusiasm. With a huff of exasperation, Arthur tried to push him off, though Francis seemed to have as many limbs as an octopus.
“Take it back, Arthur, swear you won’t leave us like this!” Arthur had always thought that Francis would have been a good actor-a bit melodramatic, but he had seen enough plays to know that there was always a character like that.
He simply rolled his eyes at Francis’ antics and crossed his arms, lifting his chin. “Fix that hole yourself if you’re so keen on it.”
“But I don’t know how!” Francis wheedled at him, still leaning his chest against Arthur’s upper arm, and he had never seen a grown man put on such a display.
“You look like a toddler who wants some candy.”
Francis pounced. “Is it working? Maybe you’re the candy I’m looking for, cher, and-”
“Oh, stop it!” Whole face red, Arthur snatched up the sweater and pushed it into Francis’ face until the damned man let him go, laughing.
“Does that mean you’ll mend it?”
“Fine.” Arthur huffed again and pulled at the hole himself, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. It was quite soft, though now that he had made all of this fuss, he wasn’t going to tell Francis so. “Fetch my sewing kit-I think I hid it in your bathroom. Maybe under the sink?”
“Anything you want, darling.” Francis smiled and kissed the tip of his nose before bounding off the couch and vanishing down the hall. Arthur slid lower in his seat and pushed his books and papers aside, sliding his hand into the sleeve to feel the way it gave around his wrist. If he inhaled-which he wasn’t, by the way-it smelled like Francis. The very thought only made his face redder.
A cry of triumph echoed from down the hall, and Francis came back, the small kit clutched triumphantly in his fist. “Behind the glass cleaner and under the drain unblocker, oh yes, Arthur, that is reasonable.” But he was smiling, and he deposited the plastic box on Arthur’s lap, ever-so-subtly slipping his arm around his waist.
“Oh, do shut up.” And Arthur didn’t hide his pleasure very well, either, as he threaded the needle and started to stitch the hole back up. Francis was warm and solid against his side, quiet, watching, and his fingers rubbed slight, soothing circles into Arthur’s sharp hip.