A Tale as Old as Time

VIII

Yet again, once Francis applied the hot, damp cloth to his skin, he was met with loud hissing as Arthur tried to pull away and coil himself up under the sheets. “I've told you to stop several times already! All you're doing is making this hurt a hell of a lot worse!” The serpent snapped, but Francis maintained a firm hand on his back to keep him down. He'd already tended to the wounds on his arms and torso and was currently trying to clean Arthur's shoulder, but he refused to cooperate.

“It wouldn't hurt if you'd stop moving around and just let me clean it,” Francis replied hotly, gently pressing the washcloth to his shoulder again. His patience was wearing thin since the two had been at it for a while now.

Arthur let out a sharp hiss and gripped onto the sheets, curling up tightly. “I wouldn't even be having this issue if you hadn't decided to run away,” he grumbled.

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and started to dress the wound, making sure Arthur would still be able to move around as needed. “And I wouldn't have run away if you didn't act like that.”

“You could've asked what the rose was,” the Briton countered.

Francis could only laugh in reply. “Right, and since you won't allow yourself to act friendly for more than a few moments at a time, I wonder how that would have gone.”

The serpent let out a huff and moved onto his back when Francis started to move him so he could tend to his tail next. Arthur crossed his arms and looked away, his tongue flicking out before he mumbled, “So perhaps I'm not the friendliest person at times.”

“Do you not remember clawing my brother across his face and breaking his ankle just for stepping inside to get out of the rain?” Francis asked him, one eyebrow cocked as he wrapped up his torso.

Arthur's tongue flicked out a couple more times before he responded. He shifted, still refusing to meet the Frenchman's eyes. “I am sorry about that. Does he have someone to watch over him?”

“Yes, of course. A lover and his family. The father was in the military, so he'll know what to do.” With slight hesitation, Francis moved on to take care of the injuries on his tail. If Arthur was still half human, it couldn't be that hard to take care of the other half, right?

The apprehension must have shown, because Arthur propped himself up on his elbows so he could better see Francis. “That part isn’t as fragile, so don't fret if you have to mess around with the bandages to get them to stay on.”

Since that helped to reassure him, Francis started cleaning and wrapping up his tail, securing the dressings so Arthur could get around without tearing them. Once finished, he put away the supplies and rinsed out the water bowl, cringing at the red tint it had taken on from Arthur's blood.

“Thank you, by the way. For this. I'd scratch the hell out of myself if I was alone,” Arthur mumbled into his pillow, then he pulled the blankets over himself and curled up tightly.

Francis put a couple more logs into the fireplace and started to leave, but stopped at hearing a soft groan in protest. When he looked over, he saw the serpent giving him a mild glare. That must have been his way of asking him to stay. Well, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do, and it would give him an excuse to check up on him.

So, with a smile, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Is this you being friendly? It's new,” he teased, leaning back and laying across his own corner of the bed.

Arthur rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his tail. “Not in the slightest. I just thought- Well, it's warmer up here, and this way you won't catch a cold in your room.” He sniffed, then turned slightly so he could better see the Frenchman, who was fighting back a smile. The Briton was trying to be more friendly and he knew it.