The dinner

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Francis practically skipped down the stairs, delighted about being presented the opportunity to show off his cooking skills. Grabbing ingredients and supplies at almost inhuman speed, he flew around the kitchen, adding a little spice here and there, stirring, chopping, and of course tasting. Matthew stood at the entrance, looking at his father dancing around the kitchen, a look of pure bliss on his face. Francis glanced back at his son and motioned for him to come closer.

"Dis-moi ce que tu penses." (tell me what you think) Francis said, bending down and handing Matthew a spoonful of the dish to taste.

"C'est délicieux!" (It's delicious) Matthew exclaimed, trying the food.

Francis smiled, ruffling Matthew's hair. "Why don't you go and set ze table, non?"

"D'accord!" Matthew chirped, grabbing silverware from a nearby drawer and running off. Arthur entered the kitchen, stepping to the side to avoid the small child running out of the room. He began to approach Francis, intending to ask him something but stopped once he saw the Frenchman. Francis was twirling around the kitchen, having resumed his cooking. He was humming as he chopped and stirred, occasionally opening his mouth to sing a few notes, seemingly unaware of Arthur's presence.

I can't decide what I like more, the smell of the food or the man cooking it. He looks like an angel like that.

"Et tu," (And you) Arthur jumped guiltily, startled by Francis's voice. He opened his mouth, preparing to apologize, but was shushed as the Frenchman spun around elegantly, a beaming smile on his face. "Would you also like try some?" He asked, handing Arthur a spoonful of the dish. Arthur nodded mutely, accepting the offer. He sipped at the warm broth, finding it quite good. He could feel his eyes light up at the taste, and Francis chuckled.

"Now now mon cher," He chided, lightly tapping Arthur's nose with a finger. "Zere will be more where zat came from. Ze restroom iz on ze 'all down ze right if you would like to wash your 'ands before eating."

"T-thank you." Arthur stuttered, before abruptly turning around and sprinting down the hall, locking himself in the bathroom.

God my face must be bright red right now. That food was quite good though. All that's left to do is get over how bloody French everything is. But I suppose French isn't too bad...

His phone suddenly rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the caller id, being greeted by a picture of him and his brother in kilts that his brother had to practically wrestle him into. Allistor. His heart began to pound wildly, his pupils dilating with fear.

"Hello? Allistor? Is everything alright? Is Alfred alright? Are you alright?" He asked frantically, panic colouring his voice. "Oh god did anything happen?" Loud laughter interrupted him, and Arthur began to calm down.

"Allistor... why. The. Bloody. Hell. Did. You. Call?" Arthur growled through gritted teeth, venom filling every word.

"Awww Artie I just wanted tae see how yer little date was goin'." Allistor chuckled. "I am touched tha' ye thought o' me safety though."

"Allistor you git I thought I told you to only call in the event of an emergency." Arthur said coolly, trying to remain composed.

"Well ye did but..." Allistor trailed off, scratching the back of his flaming head sheepishly, twirling the phone cord with his finger. Quite the opposite of him, Arthur's fingers were clenched tight around his phone.

"And let me ask you this, brother dear. Is this an emergency? And do you perhaps know the reason why I asked about your's and Alfred's safety?"

"Because ye care?" Allistor suggested meekly, bracing himself for Arthur's anger.

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