Sometime Around Midnight

The fingers of Arthur's left hand were buried deep into his blond hair, holding the shaggy bangs off his face while he screened the sheet below him. His pen slowly moved, not with the near usual speed he worked at, especially at his hour when he was usually on a high after completing a day's work. His eyes still hurt which really wasn't helping and every time he picked up his small mug of tea, his hand would shake and he's have to force himself to take a deep calming breath.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he put the pen down and glanced at the large pile of folders he had (a few taken from the Belgian in an attempt to help her with her workload). This wasn't helping him at all. He was trying to forget the Frenchman, trying to forget seeing him and Willem and trying to forget how the moment of pure realisation had stabbed him in the gut.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes a bit, slumping forward onto the table, trembling and hiding his head in his arms. This shouldn't hurt so much.

The rest of the day had passed rather uneventfully.

And by uneventful, Francis spent most of the time either hiding away in the breakroom or seeing a few patients which he couldn't actually focus on. He ended up heading home early, using Jansen's excuse of being sick only to sit at home and dwell over Arthur.

Damnit all.

Francis knew Arthur would still be at the hospital, it was the one place that he must feel comfortable in- for being there so much. There was a chance he could at least catch him and try to apologize- Again. His stomach was twisted even as he hurried back to Axis Memorial, slipping into the darkened hospital and pausing as he got to the Brit's office door, knocking. When he didn't get an answer he swallowed, wondering if for once in his life, Arthur had choosen to go to his actual home.

Heading back down through the halls and stairs, Francis found himself in the cafeteria, staring down at the very man he was looking for. Throat constricting and hands clenching into his coat, he started to slowly make his way over, etching out the final details of his apology in his mind.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Doctor... Kirkland?" he asked quietly.

Tensing at the voice, Arthur didn't look up for a moment, stubbornly keeping his eyes focused on the words his nose was pressed near. Under the table, one foot wrapped around the ankle of the other. It was some kind of half-attempted fetal-position because curling up into a ball on the floor lacked whatever dignity had left.

Not looking up at all, he cleared his throat and spoke loud enough so his muted voice could still be heard very clearly by the Frenchman. "Yes Mr. Bonnefoy?" he asked, voice straight and smooth, "Did you need something?"

"I just... S'il vous plait Kirkland just hear me out-" Francis said quickly, walking over to the table and looking down at the Brit, worrying his lip. "I... messed up- I shouldn't 'ave... done that but all I can do now is apologize and hope that you'll forgive me and-"

His shoulders slumped, and he stared down at Arthur, eyes warm and pleading. "I... I would do anything to 'ave you forgive me... I am so sorry-"

As he sat up, Arthur brought both his hands to face, rubbing it before glancing up at Francis, blinking before letting the fingers flop to the table as he sighed. "Sorry... and that's it?" he asked, tone disapproving, as if Francis had failed on answering correctly on some diagnosis. "Just a sorry?"

He shook his head, picking up his pen, looking back down at the papers trying to appear busy. "There's nothing I really think you can do... But I'll tolerate your presence, don't worry. And you may still work under me, I won't kick you out of the hospital."

Tolerate me...?

Francis swallowed thickly and tried to stem the increasing warmness in his eyes, looking away and pressing his lips together. There was something about Arthur's tone that hurt but at the same time made him absolutely livid.

Arthur wasn't the one he was hired by, the Brit was just someone he was forced to work under- He had no power to fire him, the most he could do was refuse to intern him and then Doctor Jans-

Merde.

That threat still frightened him somewhat. He sniffed and rubbed his nose quietly, trying to think of something he could say- anything that would get Arthur to change his mind even if he was being annoyingly stubborn again. "I... Arthur it is not just a sorry!" he said quickly, looking back and shaking his head.

"I... care about you and I don't want this to- just end like that. It wasn't just you that felt something- that... thing with Jansen... It was a huge mistake- it started out as just a check up because he stopped me when I was heading towards your office and just..." he took a deep breath, slumping more and dropping his gaze. "Ended... up like that."

Arthur foot moved under the table, kicking the other chair out, an invitation for the Frenchman to sit. He wrote a few more lines, mulling the words the Frenchman had said over pensively. "Stop blubbering and sit down, it's pathetic." he mumbled, ignoring the collection of soggy tissues in his pocket.

But he had said that it wasn't just Arthur that had felt something... But was this just desperate talk? Was he going to dragged along again by the boyish wish in his heart to have someone to hold him and love him?

"Tell me why Willy." he said finally, leaning back in his seat, "How desperate could you have been?"

Hesitating for only a moment, Francis took the seat and kept his head down, slumping a bit. He sighed again- his back end still didn't feel very great and he had taken som pain medication before he came over- Why did he do it again?

"I said... I-" he chewed on his lip. "It was just... supposed to be a check up- there were... lewd jokes thrown around and we just- it just... 'appened. I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could Arthur. Honestly."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to trust you." Arthur admitted, sighing heavily. He watched the slumped form carefully, eyes narrowed. "Ever... honestly, it's hard to see me ever kissing you again..."

Sighing softly, he shook his head. "I don't know what you'd have to do..." Besides leap across the table and kiss me until I can't talk.

Francis stared across the table with pained blue eyes, slowly shaking his head and leaning forward slightly. "S'il vous plait... there... there has to be something I can do- Just give me one last chance."

His heart dropped again at the Brit's word. "You... you do not 'ave to trust me right away, just give me a chance to prove myself to you and... and then decide."

Silence reigned in the cafeteria for a few long minutes save for the tapping of Arthur's pen, the rustling of the staff behind the counter as they shut down every save for the coffee and tea and the gentle start of a storm outside. He finished one folder, closing it and pulling down another, opening it and sighing a little. It could only take him a few minutes, he couldn't keep the Frenchman here while he tried to spit out what he really wanted.

Instead, he kept his head down, voice soft. "I-I just want... you to make me believe that you still... care. I-I know I'm not going to be much of a shag a-and I know my kissing is terrible," Just like last time, the words were spilling out and his eyes were closed, fist bunching around his pen, "B-But I'm still- going to try a-and I'll learn and treat you okay- d-dammit Francis..."

It took a few moments to register what Arthur was saying to him, the fact that he seemed to almost be apologizing for being a virgin or an unexperienced kisser made Francis do a double table. He stared at the Brit, swallowing hard and slowly starting to shake his head, leaning over the table and reaching out his hands for the others.

"Shh..." he started off carefully. "Kirkla-Arthur. S'il vous plait listen to me," he pleaded quietly.

It just wasn't right for him to think that. "Will prove however I can... that I care for you- and I can start off by saying I am not interested in the physical part of our relationship. At least- Arthur I am not after you to get you into bed- I want to be with you, for just you. It might seem like I am interested in other things but I can wait... honestly I can. I care about you too much," he murmured softly. Had he really just said all of that? And meant it?

The Brit's finger reached forward, touching the soft palm of Francis' hand, tracing along his hands quietly, trying to not shake but finding it almost impossible. He closed his eyes, holding the very tips of Francis' fingers weakly. He had just big hands... And they were so warm. The Brit's grip tightened.

"Will you just kiss me already you bastard."

Francis watched their hands as Arthur held onto them just barely and he glanced up as the Brit spoke, smiling slightly. He stood up slightly, lacing their fingers together and pulling him up closer as he leaned across the table.

His hands left Arthur's and cupped the sides of his face, pressing their lips together gently and slowly starting to close his eyes.

Yeah. This was worth it.

Arthur leaned forward into the kiss and smiled softly, humming quietly. It was still quiet in the cafeteria and the rain outside was getting louder with each second that passed, in the distance, a rumble of thunder but nothing threatening. His fingers fiddled with the edge of folder as he slowly pulled back, cheeks pink.

Carefully, he shifted his hair around the table, glancing at the Frenchman. He reached out a tentative hand, resting it on his leg, using it to push himself up to Francis' lips, a bit more demanding this time. He had to make sure the Frenchman was his.

A little hesitant himself, Francis smiled softly at Arthur as he pulled back, definately not expecting the Brit to come around the table and kiss him again. He swallowed at the crash of thunder but closed his eyes, focusing on the soft lips of the Brit (they were really soft).

He put his hand gently over the Brit's, curling around it and lacing their fingers together. His heart was pounding in his chest again, even his cheeks were a new shade of pink that he wasn't used to. Arthur had some strange affect on him, that was assured- but... why exactly?

There was no way he could love the anglais.

Arthur frowned a little, pulling back after holding himself up to the Frenchman for a few second. His lips were parted slightly as he quirked his head slowly, looking down at their hands, and then looking up at the storm brewing outside.

"You aren't... scared of thunderstorms, are you?"

Well that took him off guard. Francis swallowed hard, a nervous smile spreading across his features as he slowly shook his head. "Of course not..." he murmured softly, only for his hands to automatically tighten around the Brit's as another clash of thunder sounded.

"D'accord... perhaps... just a little bit...?"

The Brit smiled, holding the hands tightly, getting to his feet. "Come along..." he murmured, tugging at him, still smiling rather calmly, "I know what will help."

In all honesty, he didn't. He just wanted Francis alone and focused on him instead of the raging storm outside.

"Something to help my fear of... thunder?" Francis questioned warily, blinking and staring at their intertwined hands. His thoughts drifted to just the day before- where Willem had agreed to treat his allergies.

But... surely, this wouldn't be the same thing. Right?

After all, sex wasn't a cure for fear.

...Right?

Arthur nodded as he gathered up his files with his free hand, pulling Francis from the cafeteria and down the hallways. His mind worked furiously to try and find a solution but what was there? Something he could do that would distract the Frenchman?

Something besides the very, very ,very obvious and at this thought, Arthur felt his cheek brighten and he gripped at the Frenchman's hand hard.