DAY ONE | annual bad decisions - arthur tv.
summary: the annual group holiday goes awry when a booking mishap leaves you sharing a room with your mortal enemy — arthur frederick.
pairing: arthur tv x reader
word count: 4,693 (sorry idk how to shut up)
notes: for my brain (+ hopefully reader convenience) arthur hill is referred to only as Hill and if it’s obvious that i have never travelled to france or any ski town - no it’s not! Honestly not sure if i like this i just needed to put this somewhere that wasn’t my phone notes. i hope you enjoy + pretty please give me all the feedback! (thoughts, opinions, criticisms etc) xx
There’s a very particular feeling that comes along with shutting your laptop for the final time before a holiday. It’s not a dramatic, life-changing kind of relief. It’s softer. A release that settles somewhere between your shoulders after answering the last email, setting the out-of-office and finally accepting that any disaster that unfolds while you’re away will have to wait its turn.
For the first time in what felt like months, nobody needed anything from you, you were at peace, finally enjoying the sweet serenity of — your phone buzzed.
You pulled it out of your pocket.
You stared at the messages piling up on your screen as you stepped through Heathrow's sliding doors and immediately wished you had muted the group chat while in the transfer car earlier. Around you the departures section was packed. Suitcases rattled over tiled floors. The PA system crackled, announcements muffled against too sensitive microphones. Families huddled around suitcases piled high.
Chris: Make that two airport pints.
For a delightful yet frustratingly brief moment you had allowed yourself to forget just who you were travelling with. And like a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped over you, your fantasy came crashing down.
You had heard them before you’d seen them. “Oi! Hey! Over here! Heeeyyy!”
You turned towards the sound and found Chris and Hill waving from a pub in the terminal, their table already littered with empty glasses. They weren't even through security yet.
“Hello you two, where’s the others?” You asked, dropping your bags beside the table.
“Some are inside, some we’re waiting on,” Chris replied, already gesturing over his shoulder for another pint.
“Your best mate is here already.” Hill snickered, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.
“Oh yeah?” Your eyes narrowed.
“Ah yeah. Coffee? Security?... One of the two. We weren’t listening but he sounded pretty serious,” Chris offered, shrugging.
“And that means…?” Hill asks, dragging out the last syllable.
“Arthur would treat airport travel like a military operation.”
“Well, someone has to.” A familiar voice replied from behind you.
You closed your eyes, your head dropping forward.
There has to be hundreds of thousands of people in this airport and of course Arthur Frederick appears at the worst time.
“Good morning, princess.”
It was a nickname you were never able to get ahead of, you weren’t even sure when it had started but since the first time you’d complained about it - it had stuck. You turned in your seat, grimacing as your eyes reached his. Stood behind you with a coffee in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder, Arthur smiled with his head cocked to the side.
“Artie.” You returned the greeting.
“Oh wow, you’re still sticking with that?”
“You’re still annoying me?” You retorted, voice low and mocking.
“Depends.” He tutted. “Is it working?”
Despite it being February, he was wearing a navy hoodie, black shorts and trainers. You stared pointedly at his exposed legs.
“Are you aware of where we're going?”
Arthur glanced down at himself.
“Yeah, Artie. The Alps. The cold part?”
“Did you even pack trousers?”
“Of course I packed trousers.”
“I've been skiing before, princess.”
“Given your attire, that wasn't immediately obvious.”
Chris looked between you two and sighed dramatically. “Right. Excellent. They've started already.”
“We haven't started anything,” Arthur responded, rounding the table to sit beside Chris.
“I just got here, like thirty seconds ago,” you added.
“Thirty-one,” Hill corrected, nudging you with his elbow.
Chris pushed a half full pint glass towards you. “Hey, how about we all loosen up? C’mon… Drink?”
“Holiday pint?” He pushed, the words coming out in a melody.
“It is six in the morning.”
“Exactly,” Chris said, a dimpled smile following.
Arthur took a sip of coffee and tipped his cup towards Chris as if in silent agreement.
“Don't encourage him,” you said with a roll of your eyes.
“It’s a coffee, and you don't get to tell me what to do, princess.”
“Yep, there he is,” you said, caving and pulling Chris’ pint to you, taking a sip.
“Yep. The man physically incapable of taking instructions.”
“Or criticism," Hill added
Arthur raised his hand and smacked Hill in the back of the head before turning to you with his eyebrows lifted.
“That is a strong accusation.”
“Arthur, any of us would trust Chris first.”
Before you could respond, another voice cut across the terminal.
Josh jogged towards, behind him two suitcases rolled wildly and Sabina beamed, hands full of their remaining bags.
“And they arrive!” Hill shouts, clapping loudly.
“Whoooop!” Josh shouts in acknowledgement. Disapproving grunts and whispers from other patrons follow soon after.
“Mate,” Chris called, lifting his hands to gesture around him. “We're at a pub.”
“Pint?” The melody in his voice returned.
“It is six in the morning.”
Chris laughed, pointing towards you. “Wow! That's what she said.”
“Yeah because we’re the ones who aren’t insane.” Sabina exasperated, leaning over to squeeze your shoulder in greeting.
“Uh uh! Majority rules,” Hill decided. Sliding the glass toward where Josh stood.
“That's not how majorities work,” Arthur said.
“Look at that,” you muttered. “He's already correcting people.”
After several more minutes of Chris attempting to convince Josh that airport pints were a cultural experience rather than a poor life choice, you finally made your way towards security. Predictably, Olivia, Isaac and George were already waiting on the other side. Isaac and George huddled over a phone.
Liv spotted you first. You dropped your carry-on beside her and immediately pointed behind you.
"How dare you leave me stranded with them."
She glanced over your shoulder and visibly winced. Chris was arguing with airport security, Hill filming it on his phone and cackling loudly, Josh and Sabina were working on repacking their carry-on contents while Arthur stood nearby looking thoroughly entertained.
"To be fair," Liv said, pulling you into a hug, "I didn't leave you with them."
"You absolutely did." You huffed into her hair.
"You arrived after us. Later than we agreed on, by the way." She pulled back, her hands placed on your shoulders and an eyebrow raised as if telling you off.
"Technicalities." You waved a dismissive hand before turning to Isaac and George, pulling them both into quick hugs, George immediately holding out a takeaway cup. You took it gratefully, raising an eyebrow in silent question.
"Your marshmallow's already in there," he said.
You took a sip and groaned. While airports seldom provide the best quality, you have to admit that there may not be many better things in life than a large hot chocolate full of cinnamon.
"Feeling dramatic this morning, are we?" George said, tilting his head mockingly. Letting you tip forward your head resting on his chest as he pet you like a mother would a petulant child.
Arthur again appeared behind you, shoving you lightly so he could pull George into a half hug half handshake.
“Ever the drama queen,” he chuckled, greeting the others before correcting himself with a scoff. “Drama princess - I mean.”
George’ gaze flicked between you both before rolling his eyes and heading towards Chris and Hill, who had somehow escalated their situation with airport security. "Not ‘gna deal with you when I have to deal with them… Wish me luck," He muttered.
"You'll need it," Isaac called after him.
Thankfully, George was able to intervene before Chris could turn whatever he was attempting into an international incident. By the time you reached your gate, Liv and Sabina both looked as though they were reconsidering every life choice that had led them to this moment. Isaac wasn't far behind.
"Why do we do this every year, you’d think we’d learn from experience," you sulked, gesturing to the rowdy boys, before dropping into one of the empty seats beside your gate.
"I think it’s why this is yearly," Olivia replied. "It takes us a year to forget about the chaos and start to reminisce."
Boarding was called twenty minutes later and as expected, the seating arrangement immediately became an issue - despite all being firmly in adulthood, nobody was happy with their airline assigned seats.
Thankfully, Liv had anticipated this. Her priorities were simple: One: Chris and Hill could not sit together. Two: Sabina, Liv and you got aisle seats for accessibility to eachother and moral support. Three: Josh was to be supervised at all times. The rest was apparently negotiable.
Eventually, after enough complaining to qualify as a formal group activity, everyone settled. Hill claimed his window seat in the row ahead, Isaac took his seat between Hill and Liv (who was wearing the expression of someone mentally drafting an apology to the other passengers), across the aisle, George dropped heavily into the middle seat beside you as Arthur walked up and stopped next to your row, staring at the window seat Liv had assigned him.
George looked at Arthur. Then to the seat next to him. Then at you. Then back at Arthur. "Nope, absolutely not. I am not sitting between you two"
You shrugged. Arthur beamed. George pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He hadn't even fastened his seatbelt and already looked drained, you almost started to feel bad for him..
"You're both adults, just behave" he cautioned, his cadence tense and borderline scolding.
Neither of you responded. George watched as Arthur filed in, taking his seat and smiling brightly.
"I can behave, I don’t think Artie can though." You said gesturing absentmindedly.
“I’m sure rabid stray dogs can behave better than you can.”
“You smell like a stray dog.”
“Wow, real mature, princess.”
“I am not dealing with this the entire flight, just be quiet.” George snapped, looking between Arthur and you, frustration palpable on his face. Holding in a laugh, you sat back into your seat.
Around you, passengers continued filtering onto the aircraft. Overhead lockers slammed shut. Flight attendants moved through the cabin helping people with bags. Somewhere near the back a baby began crying. Chris was still talking loudly, of course. Across the aisle, Olivia had already settled into her seat with a book. Isaac sat beside her scrolling through his phone. A few rows back, Josh was attempting to explain something with increasingly dramatic hand gestures while Sabina watched him with amusement shining in her eyes.
Taking it in, you found yourself smiling. Arthur noticed immediately. Of course he did.
"What?" He said leaning over George to look at you. Eyebrows furrowed, you looked at him.
"You looked happy. It’s weird. Stop."
You faced him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. He watched you over the rim of his takeaway coffee, smiling smugly with an eyebrow raised.
Beside you, George groaned.
"What?" Arthur asked him, nudging his shoulder against George’s.
“Wha-a-at?” You mocked him. Arthur faced you again, sticking out his tongue as if a child. George looked between the two of you. Then towards the ceiling. Then back again.
"We haven't even left the ground."
That got a genuine laugh out of you both, Arthur shaking his head and sitting back into his seat while you bumped George with your elbow.
The plane levelled out somewhere above Europe and within half an hour, the energy that had carried everyone through the airport had disappeared entirely.
Across the aisle, Hill was turned around, face pressed between his seat and Isaac’s, whispering loudly to Chris sat behind him as they watched something on a phone screen neither of them should have been able to see from that angle. Sabina had given up trying to intervene, instead opting to watch and listen intently to the boys, Josh snoring lightly tucked into her.
George had fallen asleep beside you or at least was pretending to have, headphones tucked under the hoodie he had pulled over his head, eyes shut tight. Though you suspected it was self-preservation. You swapped between flipping through the channels and screens available on the small tv in front of you and scrolling aimlessly on your phone. A woman across the aisle from you was watching a documentary about volcanoes on her ipad, which had proved to be much more interesting.
A packet of crisps appeared in your peripheral vision. You ignored it. The packet shook. Slowly, you turned your head, taking out an earphone. Arthur shook the packet again.
"You didn't bring any food and you’ve been staring at the menu for twenty minutes."
"I wasn’t hungry and I was just looking."
"You were judging. With your judgemental eyes"
"What? No I wasn’t, I was looking. There's a difference."
You rolled your eyes and returned your attention to the screen. The crisps remained, the packet shook again.
"Artie. Bugger off." You huffed, facing him completely now.
He smiled brightly, his eyes squinting and nose scrunching. Before shaking the packing once more, adding in a sing-song tune, "they're salt and vinegar."
"They're your favourite."
You hated that he knew that, almost as much as you hated that he was right - punctuated almost comedically by your stomach growling. Without looking at him, you took the packet. Arthur looked unbearably pleased with himself. George opened one eye.
"Are you really feeding each other?"
You chuckled, showing off the crisps in your palm. "Apparently."
"Hmm." He murmured, a smile evident in his voice.
"Go back to sleep." Arthur chided.
You settled back into your seat, stealing another handful from the packet before balancing it on Arthur's tray table and returning your attention to the screen in front of you.
The rest of the flight passed much the same, Chris and Hill remaining incapable of sitting normally, Josh getting progressively louder every time he woke up from whatever five-minute power nap he'd accidentally fallen into, Liv managed to get over halfway through her book and Isaac had slept through enough turbulence to convince you he could probably sleep through an earthquake, possibly even the plane crashing.
A little over an hour later, your descent was announced and almost immediately, the cabin seemed to come back to life. Headphones disappeared, window blinds slid open and sleepy passengers began stretching into the aisles as though waking from hibernation. The holiday feeling settled over the aircraft all at once, spreading through the cabin as people sat forward in anticipation of arriving.
The mountains appeared beneath the aircraft before you'd even broken through the clouds. White peaks stretched endlessly across the horizon, sharp against a sky so blue it hardly looked real. You found yourself leaning towards the window, completely unable to look away. Every year you forgot just how spectacular they were and every year the first glimpse stole your breath all over again. The Alps looked less like a real place and more like something edited, impossibly perfect beneath the afternoon sun. Beside you, Arthur shifted slightly to get a better view, and for once neither felt the need to fill the silence between you. As the aircraft banked gently, small resort towns appeared amongst the valleys below, their rooftops dusted with snow and scattered between winding roads. A smile tugged at your mouth before you could stop it.
"Doing it again, princess."
You didn't need to look at him. "Doing what?"
"Smiling to yourself like a weirdo."
"For god's sake Artie, shut up."
"Where’s the fun in that?"
George groaned from beneath his hoodie as though physically pained by your existence. A few minutes later the wheels hit the runway with a jolt that rattled through the cabin. Chris immediately cheered, startling several nearby passengers and setting off the crying baby towards the back of the plane.
And just like that, almost a year later and all those months of planning, group chats and increasingly questionable decisions, you were finally in France again, though if you thought airport security had been chaotic, baggage claim somehow managed to be worse.
For reasons you still don't fully understand, collecting luggage always seemed to erase whatever common sense most people possessed. Within minutes of reaching the carousel, Josh had confidently picked up the wrong suitcase twice, only realising his mistake when Sabina pointed out that neither belonged to him or her or anyone else in the group. Hill, meanwhile, had somehow become involved in a discussion with a complete stranger about whether their luggage looked similar enough to warrant simply swapping bags altogether - to which they had looked rightfully alarmed. George had disappeared entirely in pursuit of Chris, who had wandered off in search of snacks before a single suitcase had even appeared on the conveyor belt.
By the time you finally emerged into arrivals, dragging your luggage behind you like survivors of some minor disaster, you were beginning to understand why Liv permanently looked as though she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"Right," Liv announced, glancing down at her phone before looking up at the group. "Coach is outside. Everyone, stay together."
Nobody listened. "Everyone, stay together," she repeated, louder this time.
Hill continued walking in the wrong direction. Josh stopped to look at something in a gift shop. Chris reappeared carrying enough food to sustain a small village. Olivia closed her eyes.
Isaac immediately looked up from his phone and turned towards the group, a sharp command of “stay” rang through the air, Hill stopping in his stride and Josh dipping his head down returning to Sabina’s side.
Without another word, Isaac and Liv began herding the group towards the exit with the efficiency of two people who had clearly been forced into this role many times before. Falling into step beside George, you adjusted your grip on your suitcase and carry-on, observing the chaos unfold ahead of you.
"There is no way most people travel with this much drama."
"Most people don't travel with Hill. Or Chris”
You looked towards Hill at the front with Isaac and Chris, their arms linked to keep them both in step as Liv led the group towards the exit.
The cold hit the moment the automatic doors slid open. Not London's version of cold, where the air felt damp and heavy and lingered in your clothes for hours afterwards. This was different. Cleaner. Sharper. The kind of cold that immediately filled your lungs and made you feel awake whether you wanted to be or not. Around you, everyone seemed to react at once. Josh zipped his jacket higher, Hill launched into an elaborate complaint about frostbite despite standing outside for less than thirty seconds, and Chris loudly declared that he would warm Hill all by himself (whatever it took).
Arthur, still inexplicably wearing shorts, appeared entirely unaffected. You stared, looking between his bare legs and smug face. He noticed immediately, smiling and sending you a wink.
Your eyebrows lifted. "Like what you feel?" You responded, emphasising by tugging your coat closed around you.
"Yep." He said, popping the last letter.
"And you brought trousers?" In lieu of a response, Arthur rolled his eyes so hard you thought he might injure himself.
“And they’re here? With us in France?” You continued.
"I'm not having this conversation again."
"I’m honestly just asking."
"I love the concern but I can take care of myself."
"You wore shorts to the Alps."
Beside you George laughed, a sharp and loud sound that seemingly tore it way out of him, before sheepishly shrugging his shoulders when Arthur looked to him, betrayal evident on his face.
Chris and Hill claimed the back row before your driver had even opened the doors, immediately establishing themselves as a problem for everyone else on board. Josh joined them moments later, a decision Sabina appeared to regret almost instantly. Liv and Isaac settled together a few rows ahead while George disappeared towards the front, wisely distancing himself from the inevitable nonsense already brewing behind him.
That left you with a window seat and, for perhaps the first time all day, a moment of peace.
The scenery transformed gradually as you climbed higher into the mountains. Cities gave way to towns, towns became villages and eventually even those disappeared, replaced by winding roads cutting through snow-covered forests. The further you travelled, the more excited everyone seemed to become. Conversations grew louder. Music was blaring after an enthusiastic Hill convinced the driver to let him connect to aux. Plans for the week were thrown around enthusiastically between rows. The first drink. Ski slopes. Questionable bets. Party games. Even more questionable bets.
At some point you stopped listening altogether and rested your head on your arm pressed to the glass, content to watch the mountains roll past outside. The sun had begun its slow descent by the time the familiar cluster of cabins finally appeared.
One moment there was nothing but snow-covered trees and winding roads; the next, wooden chalets emerged around a bend in the mountain, their windows glowing warmly against the fading afternoon light.
The reaction inside the coach was immediate. Everyone stood up at once.
"Sit down!" Liv shouted from somewhere near the front. Nobody listened. "Guys!"
Some grumbles were distributed among the group but soon everyone was seated again.
Smiling despite yourself, you looked back out towards the wooden cabins and let out a breath you had held since you were here last year. Home for the next two weeks, and god it’s so good to be back.
The coach rolled to a stop and before the driver had even opened the luggage compartment, Chris was halfway down the aisle, Hill directly behind him, Josh trying to overtake both of them despite starting further back. Sabina watched the entire thing unfold with the expression of a woman considering whether abandoning them in France was a realistic option.
Stepping off the coach, you paused for a moment as fresh snow crunched beneath your shoes. The chalet stood directly ahead of you, warm light spilling from the windows and reflecting against the snow that surrounded it. For the briefest moment, the entire group seemed to stop and take it in.
Then Chris yelled something completely unintelligible and sprinted towards the front door. Moment ruined. Still, your smile remained as you grabbed your belongings, following the others inside.
Suitcases were abandoned by the front door almost immediately as everyone scattered to explore. Chris and Hill disappeared upstairs within seconds of arriving, Josh headed straight for the windows in search of the hot tub and Arthur wandered towards the kitchen in search of a drink. For a few blissful minutes, everything felt easy.
You were handing your carry-on to George when you noticed Liv and Sabina standing at the dining table. A folder laid out on the counter from the chalets booking drawer, several sheets of paper spread neatly across the tabletop. Normally, that wouldn't have meant anything. If any one knew anything about Liv it was that she loved an itinerary. The woman could organise a military operation if given sufficient notice.
No, that wasn’t worrying, what did catch your attention was the expression on her face.
Or more specifically, the complete lack of one. Beside her, Sabina was staring at the same paperwork with her lips pressed tightly together.
"How nice is this!" You called, meandering over to them both. Neither answered.
Liv looked down at one page, then another, then flipped both over. Her eyes moved back to the first. Slowly. Deliberately. As though she was hoping the information might change if she stared at it long enough.
The word was calm. Far too calm. Across the room, Isaac immediately looked up.
"What?" He said, confusion evident in his face.
Instead, she looked back down at the paperwork.
"Chris." She said louder.
This time Sabina closed her eyes.
Something about the way she said it sent a ripple of unease through the room. Conversations began dying off one by one. Josh drifted back from the windows. George set down his drink. Arthur emerged from the kitchen holding a six pack in one hand and an opened beer in the other, pausing when he realised everyone was now looking towards the dining table, tension palpable.
"What happened?" Isaac asked, already sounding tired.
Liv finally looked up. “Chris!” A shout this time, the sound rippled through the room, it was as if the world fell silent too.
“Uh, yeah?” His voice carried from his location somewhere upstairs. Tentative, slow steps back toward the room.
"How many rooms did you book?"
There was no answer, only his footsteps increasing as he returned to where everyone stood, looking at him expectantly.
"What do you mean?" you asked.
Olivia held up a sheet of paper. Gesturing towards Chris and Hill.
"Those two booked the accommodation."
A collective groan moved through the room. That, unfortunately, explained everything.
“Liv!” You groaned. “What did we learn last time? Why in the world would you trust them with this?”
Isaac stood up making his way over to the kitchen counter and Liv, “Hey, they said they knew a guy.”
"Wait, why does that matter?" Arthur asked.
For a brief moment, Olivia simply stared at him. Then she looked back at the paperwork and let out a long, slow breath. "There are four bedrooms."
The silence that followed was immediate. Nine people. Four bedrooms. Of course Chris struggled with those numbers. As though summoned by the accusation itself he rushed over to Liv and Sabina, taking the sheet as it was handed out to him.
"What? No." Chris read it, then looked at the group and glanced back down at it again. His confidence disappeared so quickly it was almost impressive.
Sabina's warning tone was enough to stop whatever defence he was preparing. The room erupted into noise almost immediately. Questions came from every direction at once. Hill looked seconds away from crying with laughter.
"Remind me again why we trusted him?" Arthur groaned.
"Because he said he knew a guy," Isaac replied miserably.
"Yep. Right. That’s worse."
While everyone else continued arguing, George quietly reached across the table and picked up the room allocation sheet. His eyes moved down the page once before he immediately pointed at the first room.
The room fell silent again.
George looked between Chris and Hill.
You cut in. "You can't just decide that."
Hill looked positively thrilled by the arrangement, already dropping onto the nearest sofa as though the decision had been made months ago rather than seconds earlier. Chris joined him, the pair high fiving. George ignored both of them entirely.
Setting the room allocation sheet back onto the table, he took a long sip of his drink and looked far too pleased with himself. Only then did you glance down at the paper properly. Josh and Sabina already had a room together, Olivia and Isaac obviously occupied another, and George had just successfully secured the third for himself, Chris and Hill.
Your eyes moved slowly down the remaining names, a feeling of dread beginning to settle somewhere deep in your stomach long before your brain caught up with the maths. Sabina, Josh, Chris, Hill George, Isaac and Liv…Which left — your stomach dropped.
Beside you, Arthur stepped closer to the table at exactly the same moment. For once, neither of you spoke. You simply stared at the remaining names printed beside the final bedroom allocation.
The word left your mouth instantly.
Arthur didn't even hesitate.
For perhaps the first time in years, your friendship group watched as two of you finally agreed on something — this is a disaster.
