Francis sat down by the chair that was near the small, square window as Arthur reappeared holding a small rag and some supplies. 

"This may sting," Arthur mumbled as he dipped the gray cloth into rubbing alcohol and pressed it softly to the male's wound. Nausea began to wash over Francis as the wound began to scream. 

"Owww! Owwww! Owwwwwwww!" Francis clenched his fingers as Arthur watched silently at the male's growing pain. 

"It's going to be okay…" murmured Arthur as he ran a hand through Francis's blond hair in a comforting manner. Francis's whimpering began to quiet down as felt the stickiness of a bandaid plop down on the wound. 

"Thanks, usually Edward and Sasha patch me up and prep talk me about some stuff that has occurred…" Francis trailed off as Arthur sat down majestically in the chair next to him, adjusting his crossed legs from time to time, which kept catching the attention of Francis. 

"Usually Sasha is friendly; however, her boyfriend had cheated on her for her sister. I'm lucky I had them when I was on my hands and knees." 

Arthur kept adjusting his legs which began to boil under his skin as the britishmale didn't respond. 

“What are you… doing…?" Francis asked, pointing down towards Arthur’s legs and got an angry retort back. 

“Trying to get COMFORTABLE with a frog in my home.“ 

"If you didn't slash at my face, then I would be home by now!" 

Arthur stood up and adjusted his shirt down, his eyes glued to Francis as he gave Francis an ugly look. 

"Before I forget, let me patch you up—" Francis took a clean rag as Arthur sat down where Francis had been and watched the male take off his shirt and noticed old scars and bruises.

Francis placed a hand on Arthur's chest and ran his fingers down to the bandages and snapped it in two. Francis glanced up and noticed the calm on Arthur's face. He was so close that he could lean forward a bit and —

Arthur cleared his throat as Francis turned back towards his abdomen and began to clean it, he couldn't help himself but steal glances at the blond male here and there. He accidentally poured more than what was needed and felt the male's body tense up.

"That was your first flinch! How did you train your body to do that??" Francis asked as Arthur gave a shrug.

"I have been doing this since I was a young lad. You get used to the feeling of bruises, alcohol, scars, blood. This bruised eye is annoying tho. Messes up my beautiful face."

"... I don't think it is messed up. Still looks pretty to me.." Francis couldn't believe he had slipped up and said that in front of Arthur, who's corners of his lips twitched upward as quick as a blink.

"You're either awfully kind or awfully rotten," Arthur bemused as Francis applied new bandages as he turned his face up, while Arthur leaned forward, glancing down at the Frenchman, their noses so close that Francis could feel his heart beat in his stomach.

"You're not so wholesome, yourself," Francis gave a smirk as he felt Arthur's fingers under his chin, lifting him closer and closer that he could feel and hear Arthur's breathing while Arthur could DEFINENTLY hear and feel his.

"Coming from the one that said we had sex on the beach. That we were a couple that we," Arthur frowned as he moved away from the French male, who's heart sunk in his chest at seeing the deflated male. Francis cringed as he heard his stomach growl, only to prompt Arthur to go back to making eye contact with him.

"You're lucky I am a good host…!" He picked himself up and entered the small kitchen. Francis hummed as he glanced at the newspaper that Arthur had been reading, which was Wednesday’s news. Guess the mail company was 4 days late… Francis scoffed as he noticed Arthur exit the kitchen, holding burnt food and placed it on the table. 

"Dinner is served." 

Francis stood up and glanced at the burnt food and the awful smell coming off of the horrendous sight. “WHAT IS THAT?" 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'WHAT’S THAT'? THOSE ARE SCONES !!“  

“CAN YOU EVEN COOK !?!?!??!“ Francis shouted and picked one up with his bare hands, gagging even harder. He grabbed the scone that he held in his hand and threw it in the trash, nearly missing the trash. 

"OF COURSE I CAN, YOU'RE JUST… MAD!" Arthur retorted as Francis went towards the small kitchen and noticed how ugly and small it was. The white paint had been chipped, while the sink was full of gross dishes. 

“You live in this junk…?“ Francis asked, his eyes wide as Arthur was leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. "Looks even worse than your detective agency…" 

"I haven't had power for almost 2 months. I've had long nights at the agency," Arthur muttered, it was supposed to be for the shorter male; however, Francis overheard. 

"Sorry, I didn't…" Arthur didn’t say anything in response as he watched the Frenchman begin operating in his kitchen once more. 

The food sizzled in the pan as Francis flipped the food and Arthur only gave a small scoff as Francis set the food down on the small plate and brought it towards the small dining table. 

“How do you cook in your small kitchen?“ Francis asked as he watched Arthur take a bite of food and swallowed it, his expression dull as he responded. 

“Yanno frog, this is undercooked-" 

“WHAT -!!!??!?!“ Francis took the fork out of Arthur’s hand and took a bite and then shot Arthur a frown. “This is cooked PERFECTLY, your taste buds are just awful.“ 

“Tch, whatever …“ Arthur grumbled as he picked up a burnt scone and plopped it into his mouth. 

The two ate in silence before Arthur picked up his plate and brought it to the small kitchen and went down the hall, passing the kitchen table and not saying a word to Francis. 

It had been a long hour after dinner as Francis was in the small kitchen, glancing around at the dishes in the sink and clear disgust on his face. The food looked like it had been there for ages now and Francis turned the faucet and began to wash the dishes with hot, scalding water and slippery soap. 

“Arthur shouldn’t expect me to do this every day for him… I am not his housespouse…“ Francis muttered to himself and realized what he had said, housespouse. 

Francis had finished up rather quickly, making sure that he had scrubbed all the dishes in the sink spotless before turning towards the direction where Arthur had gone down, to complain to the male and requiring payment for his deed; however, his plan was to turn down anything and just get a simple "thanks". 

Francis pushed open the door lightly and spotted Arthur, his back to the door as his shirt was off, deep scars littered the male’s back, like stars in the sky. Francis let out a small gasp as Arthur turned around quickly, covering his bare chest with a shirt and letting out an angry shout. 

“YOU PERV !“ 

“I … I CAME TO CHECK ON YOU AND TELL YOU I DID YOUR STUPID DISHES !“ Francis shouted back as the male placed his oversized green sweater on and swung open the door. 

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND PEACE ON EARTH DO YOU ?“ 

“NO NEED TO SHOUT!“ Francis responded, covering his ears in a mocking way and then heard the britishmale let out a small sigh and beckoned the french male into the bedroom. 

The bedroom seemed … smaller than the livingroom and it had a medium sized bed that looked like it could fit 3 people on it. Arthur’s desk was organized and a small, curvy bookshelf was rested against the wall. 

“This and the living room are better than the kitchen.“ 

“Tch, " Arthur scoffed, he rolled his eyes as he sat down on the bed, picking up the book he had been reading and closed it up, a bookmark sticking out of the top. 

“How did you get those scars…?“ Francis asked, even though he didn’t know if he was strong enough to say it outloud, he cared for the Brit that was sitting on the bed. Francis sat down next to him on the bed and Arthur shifted a bit to give Francis some room. 

“Oh. Those.“ Arthur didn’t sound too confident in talking about the scars and Francis shot him a reassuring smile and responded, 

“Don’t worry you don’t have to tell me. If you respect me for not liking my back touched, then you don't have to say anything." 

Arthur didn't say anything as his eyes fell down to where his hands knit themselves together. After moments of silence Arthur mumbled something inaudible. 

"... What…?" 

“Scottie." was the only word that had fallen out of Arthur’s mouth. Francis placed his hands into his pockets and realized he had the note that someone named Scottie had sent to Arthur.

Francis quietly handed Arthur the note and noticed Arthur’s demeanor shift when he opened up the note and then responded in a dull voice, 

“Were you…? Reading through my stuff-?“ 

“This was when you vanished for a bit. That’s how Antonio got out, he tricked me since he said he knew where you went…“ Francis responded, he was twirling his fingers around in his strong hair as his heart sped up, he didn’t know how Arthur would respond until he heard something he didn’t expect. 

“It’s okay,“ Arthur shrugged, he didn’t seem interested in what Francis had to say anymore, which caused Francis to feel… self conscious about what Arthur was thinking about him. 

“I just, I hated the thought of never seeing you again…!“ Francis squeaked out, his voice high pitched as Arthur turned towards the male, his emerald green eyes were soft for once.
“ONLY because I would miss seeing a british man get all angry over petty things… !“ 

Arthur let out a small huff and then responded, “yeah, so I can get angry…“ he seemed like he was thinking about something and Francis didn’t know what to say, or do. 

“Iggy…?“

“Hm?“ Arthur let out, not caring that Francis had called him that cursed nickname that he despised. 

“Do you have a spare bedroom…?“ Francis asked awkwardly, he ran a hand through his long, blond hair as Arthur veered his head towards the male and shook his head, ‘no'. 

“I can sleep in the living room if you want.“ Arthur stood up simply and walked out of the room, his breathing normal and relaxed. 

"Wait—" Francis stood up as he began to scratch his arm in embarrassment. 

"Yeah?" 

"I don't like sleeping alone and…" the words hung in his throat as Arthur's gaze softened. "... Nevermind, you can go." 

"You know where to find me." 

"No, I don't—"

"Jesus, Francis," Arthur rubbed his eyelids as his gaze pierced up at Francis. "Living room, remember? Or are you distracted again?" 

"Pfft, just testing you!" Francis shrugged off as Arthur began whispering to himself. 

"I'll be off and out of the house for a little. I need groceries." 

"Alright. I'll stay here!" Francis chirped as Arthur gave a small nod. Francis watched the male leave the bedroom and close the door behind him, leaving a pain in his chest. For some stupid reason, he wished that Arthur had decided to stay by his side instead of leave. 

"I guess that solved the problem of the bedroom issue." Francis muttered to himself quietly as he longed to tell the male how he felt, but whenever he sent signals of affection to Arthur, he only gained mixed signals back.

"Maybe I am not the one to take care of Arthur…" he whispered softly to himself. It felt like someone had inserted a knife into his heart and kept edging it closer and closer to the other side.