A Very Awkward Anniversary
Happy (belated) Fruk Day everyone! I almost completely forgot about this which is why I started my fic last minute and finished it a day late.
Rating: T
Pairing: Fruk
Word Count: 970
CW: brief mentions of ww1, mentions of PTSD (or shell shock as it was termed in the period this is set in)
Arthur stared at his calendar and the big red circle around April 8th. The current date and his anniversary, or at least what he and his lover considered their anniversary. He had been debating about calling Francis since he woke up. Although they had an unspoken agreement that this was their anniversary, they weren’t a conventional couple. They had been enemies up until 1904 when they finally agreed to bury the hatchet, then they confessed their love to each other in the trenches in 1916 before communication became spotty following the war. A lot had happened in those four years of war, and after it, Arthur just couldn’t handle a new relationship with Francis, and the two agreed to some space. That distance had been going on for about a year now.
He felt as though it would be awkward to call Francis now, but at the same time, it was their anniversary. Francis deserved something in honor of it. Arthur didn’t have to mull over it much longer when there was a knock on the door. Arthur groaned as he got up from his armchair.
When he opened the door he came face to face with Francis and a bouquet of bright red roses. "Joyeux anniversaire,” Francis beamed, offering the bouquet to Arthur.
The Englishman cautiously accepted the gift. “Ah..R-Right, happy anniversary.”
The Frenchman's eyes shone playfully. “Goodness Arthur, did you forget? That would explain why I hadn’t got so much as a phone call. Anyway, can I come in?”
Arthur froze. He couldn't explain why, but he was...hesitant. “I…”
“Come on Arthur, we’ve barely spent time together since…I thought we were done pretending to hate each other?”
The bags still hung low below Francis’s eyes. The war may have been over for a year now, but still, it weighed heavy on the both of them. Shell shock they called it if Arthur remembered correctly. He wondered if Francis had been suffering from something similar. Either way, the war was over now, and it was best not to let their minds stay on it for long. Perhaps a little celebration would be a worthy distraction. “Alright,” Arthur sighed, “Come in.”
He led Francis into the living room before heading to the kitchen for a vase and water for the flowers. He returned with the roses safely in a vase and placed them on the coffee table in front of himself and Francis. Arthur settled on the couch next to his lover. The tension that set over them was suffocating. They sat close but not touching. Francis’s shoulders were tense, and one of his hands gripped the armrest tightly. Arthur didn’t fare much better, sitting on the edge of his seat, looking for something to say. Worst of all, there was no sound other than their breaths and thumping hearts.
“W-Would you like some tea?” Arthur suddenly said, unable to stand the silence.
“That would be lovely.”
Arthur rushed back into the kitchen and put the kettle on. As he waited for the water to boil, his mind wandered once more, back to him and Francis. Suddenly they confessed, and their ability to communicate flew out the window? Did they have to be at each other’s throats for anything to happen between them? That couldn’t be true. They had plenty of long conversations during the war when there was nothing else to pass the time or drown out the sound of gunfire and screams. But now in peacetime, they could barely utter a word to each other outside of business. They should have been so happy; they were finally able to function like normal lovers and yet, they weren’t. Arthur was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t realize when the kettle whistled or when someone else entered the room. Two arms slinked around his waist, and Arthur immediately tensed.
"The tea is–” But Francis was cut off by Arthur swinging around, pressing his arm against the Frenchman’s neck. Francis looked up at him with genuine fear as Arthur’s acidic green eyes burned into him. For a moment, it was as if they were back to their old ways.
“Angl–gck–Angleterre it’s just me…mon lapin…”
Arthur’s gaze softened, and he lowered his arm as fear subsided. “Oh god…I-I…Francis I genuinely didn’t mean–” Francis silenced him with a kiss.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry to have startled you.” Francis let out a light laugh. “I probably would have done the same."
“Francis…”
The Frenchman’s hand came to rest against Arthur’s face. “We’ll be okay mon amour. It’s all over now, and we can enjoy our time together.”
Arthur nodded before resting his forehead against Francis’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s been so awkward and now…this…”
“Hush now,” Francis chastised, pulling the Brit closer by his waist, “We’re both getting used to this…B-But you do like it right? Us I mean…”
Arthur shot up. “Of course.”
A warm smile spread across Francis's face. “Good. That’s all we need.” He placed a loving kiss on Arthur’s eyelids. “We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
“Okay,” Arthur breathed out. His head fell onto Francis’s shoulder once more. The Frenchman began to rock them back and forth. Arthur couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. Maybe they didn’t need words.
“Maybe we should take our tea into the garden,” Francis noted, “I want to see your roses.”
“As long as you don’t steal any again,” Arthur shot back, pulling away.
Francis chuckled as he got out two mugs for them, with Arthur pouring tea in each. Before heading out, Arthur grabbed a few cookies he baked the previous day and put them on the plate. For the rest of the afternoon, Arthur and Francis enjoyed their tea and cookies in the beauty of the spring air, not speaking, but contently holding each other’s hands.
