[OOC: AxA Drabbles]
This is the post where I'm going to be dumping the unrelated AxA drabbles I've written. Yeah. XD Just one for now.
~*~
It took some getting used to (A LOT of getting used to), but whenever Arthur catches Antonio half-naked in Francis' presence, he just rears back, hits the perverted Frog, and drags his clueless idiot of a boyfriend away. Arthur has learned his lesson. It's not Antonio's fault he doesn't realize Francis is molesting him; he's a clueless idiot (albeit a hopelessly cute one) and he just doesn't know any better. Francis, meanwhile, was in possession of better (perverted) awareness and thus should be held responsible whenever Antonio ends up in a very compromising position with the Frenchman. The sooner Arthur learned this, the lesser headaches he had and the more opportunities to hit the perverted Frog surfaced. It wasn't a bad arrangement. Not bad at all.
"Arthur."
At the mention of his name, the Brit looked to the direction of the voice. He had to tilt his head back to do it, the voice came from behind him after all, and that almost made him fall back down to the floor if he wasn't caught so swiftly. A mess of scrawny limbs, unruly hair, and rumpled clothes, Arthur chuckled softly as he was held, nuzzling against familiar warmth and a cotton shirt. He smelled sunshine and cinnamon and he practically purred. He knew this person and he didn't mind staying like this.
But unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.
"Ay querido..." Weary, but amused emerald eyes. A smiling, kissable mouth. Arthur almost leaned in to kiss them, but there was a soft, deep chuckle and it made his stomach feel funny. Like fluttering, happy butterflies. And he was probably smiling goofily back, but he wasn't sure.
"You really do enjoy your drink far too much..."
Arthur was distracted by humming. Oh, yes, he was humming. Something familiar, but couldn't place at the moment. And then between his hands was tanned skin and a dear, handsome face. For a second, a wave of melancholy washes over him.
Why is someone like him with someone like me? but again, it doesn't last long. There's that voice again, speaking his language with that gorgeous accent.
"I'm taking you home, yes?"
It was warmer now. He had arms around him and he can't help but hold on, eyes closing contentedly. He felt safe, secure. His stomach was fluttering again, tickling him, and he laughed. Cheeky buggers... The butterflies wanted out and he let them free.
Did his gorgeous cinnamon sunshine see with his wide, laughing emerald eyes? Did he see the butterflies go free? He must have, because he looked happy. Amused, yes, but happy. And Arthur smiles too, because the butterflies are free now and he's happy for them as he knows they're happy for him as he is carried away carefully, gently by lulling, loving whispers against his ear and strong, dependable arms of his beloved sunshine.
~*~
It took some getting used to (A LOT of getting used to), but whenever Arthur catches Antonio half-naked in Francis' presence, he just rears back, hits the perverted Frog, and drags his clueless idiot of a boyfriend away. Arthur has learned his lesson. It's not Antonio's fault he doesn't realize Francis is molesting him; he's a clueless idiot (albeit a hopelessly cute one) and he just doesn't know any better. Francis, meanwhile, was in possession of better (perverted) awareness and thus should be held responsible whenever Antonio ends up in a very compromising position with the Frenchman. The sooner Arthur learned this, the lesser headaches he had and the more opportunities to hit the perverted Frog surfaced. It wasn't a bad arrangement. Not bad at all.
"Arthur."
At the mention of his name, the Brit looked to the direction of the voice. He had to tilt his head back to do it, the voice came from behind him after all, and that almost made him fall back down to the floor if he wasn't caught so swiftly. A mess of scrawny limbs, unruly hair, and rumpled clothes, Arthur chuckled softly as he was held, nuzzling against familiar warmth and a cotton shirt. He smelled sunshine and cinnamon and he practically purred. He knew this person and he didn't mind staying like this.
But unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be.
"Ay querido..." Weary, but amused emerald eyes. A smiling, kissable mouth. Arthur almost leaned in to kiss them, but there was a soft, deep chuckle and it made his stomach feel funny. Like fluttering, happy butterflies. And he was probably smiling goofily back, but he wasn't sure.
"You really do enjoy your drink far too much..."
Arthur was distracted by humming. Oh, yes, he was humming. Something familiar, but couldn't place at the moment. And then between his hands was tanned skin and a dear, handsome face. For a second, a wave of melancholy washes over him.
Why is someone like him with someone like me? but again, it doesn't last long. There's that voice again, speaking his language with that gorgeous accent.
"I'm taking you home, yes?"
It was warmer now. He had arms around him and he can't help but hold on, eyes closing contentedly. He felt safe, secure. His stomach was fluttering again, tickling him, and he laughed. Cheeky buggers... The butterflies wanted out and he let them free.
Did his gorgeous cinnamon sunshine see with his wide, laughing emerald eyes? Did he see the butterflies go free? He must have, because he looked happy. Amused, yes, but happy. And Arthur smiles too, because the butterflies are free now and he's happy for them as he knows they're happy for him as he is carried away carefully, gently by lulling, loving whispers against his ear and strong, dependable arms of his beloved sunshine.