Partners In Crime (lietpol/Poliet)

Bonus chapter 2

This one is about Francis. It's between when Toris first yells at Francis and when he shows up at Toris's door. FrUk overload fyi

Francis swallowed hard, hugging the wall by his locker. He knew the sound of those footsteps. Those long, heel-before-toe strides, the little bounce between every step, the energy behind the movement. It was definitly him.

Gilbert.

Francis quietly cursed beneath his breath. He looked at the floor, at the wall, willing Gilbert to walk past. But of course, the German was making a direct course for the Frenchman.

Francis looked around desperately. He couldn't talk to Gilbert. He couldn't. There was no way he could face him. It wasn't that Francis didn't like Gilbert; he did. It was just that he felt so ashamed whenever he saw the German. The little flash of guilt he constantly felt grew into a gnawing pain and Francis didn't know how to handle that. The Frenchman tried to think of an escape plan.

Without stopping to consider the action, Francis grabbed the person nearest to him, a short sophomore, blond hair messily frayed across his hairline. Sorry, Francis internally apologized. He roughly clasped the boy's hands in his own. The boy turned. "Wha-?"

And suddenly, they were kissing. The boy gave a little mmm! of protest. Francis kept one hand gripping the boy's hand, and the other harshly pressed against the back of his head, preventing him from pulling away.

Please go away, Francis silently willed Gilbert. The German had stopped and looked at the two interlocked boys before heaving a sigh of frustration and annoyance, walking away with a hurt scowl.

Francis was about to release the unfortunate blond when something crazy happened. The boy kissed back.

Francis's heart leaped. A jolt rolled up his spine. He had kissed lots of people before, both guys and girls--it didn't really matter to him--but this one was somehow... Different. Were kisses supposed to give you chills? Were they supposed to drown out the rest of the world?

Francis didn't notice the bell ringing mid-kiss, nor the looks that people in the hallway shot him, their gaze lingering a second or two before they finally turned away. It was as if he and the was-a-stranger-ten-seconds-ago were the only people that existed and everything else was just a abstract thought, something that reality couldn't quite contain.

The kiss broke when Francis pulled away to catch his breath. For a moment he could do nothing but stare at this mysterious boy. To take in those dazzling green eyes, those unnaturally bushy eyebrows, and that stupid, stupid look his face.

The thrill in Francis's stomach faded to an irking annoyance. The Frenchman swallowed hard. Something about the sophomore just made Francis want to punch him in the face.

And, judging by the look of disgust on his face, the sophomore thought the same. "What the bloody hell was that for?" He demanded.

Francis narrowed his eyes. Had it been anyone else, he would've immediately apologized. "Oh you know you liked it," he challenged.

"No I most certainly did not you twat!"

Francis chuckled to himself. "Yes you did."

The boy crossed his arms. "I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Do you want to go?"
On a date? Francis added the last part silently. He liked this boy's firery temper.

The boy blinked, realizing the sudden changed in pacing. "Sorry?" He asked, composing himself. Francis frowned. "Do you want to go?" He repeated.

The blond looked genuinely confused. "Right here?" Francis nodded. "Right now?" Another nod.

The boy folded his arms, indignant. "That's not a very gentlemanly thing to do."

Francis was taken aback. Never had he wanted to smack someone as much as he did now.

The sophomore raised one of his bushy eyebrows, glaring at Francis with a mutual hatred. "But," he said, throwing the syllable out harshly. "We can 'go' at my house. Friday."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Yeah? What time."

"8:00 sharp. Wear something nice. I'll cook."

"For some reason I'm getting a bad feeling about this, but whatever mon ami." Then, sensing the weight of the boy's invintation, he murmured, "Should I bring a condom?"

The teen made a face of disgust. "No! Who the bloody hell do you think I am?"

"To be perfectly honest I don't have the slightest clue who you are. I don't even know your name."

"Arthur," the boy responded. The name sounded sharp and precise the way Arthur said it.

"Fine then, Arthur. I won't bring one."

Francis leaned close to Arthur, caught between the pervent desire to either strangle Arthur or to kiss him again.

He chose the latter.

When the pulled away again Arthur looked flustered. "Maybe you should bring one," he squeaked.

Francis smirked. Ohonhonhon.

"Just in case," Arthur quickly added, crossing his arms.

Francis rolled his eyes. Of course Arthur wanted him. Everyone did.

But this time, it sort of meant something.

Because for once, Francis wanted Arthur, too.
A/N: ohonhonhon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Any suggestions for more bonus chapters? How many more do you think I should write before starting the sequel?