anything you can do i can do better + 1

[seasidhedcv]

 

The exact second their hands touch, the world pops into colors. And thanks to their weirded out looks, it doesn't take too much for Arthur and Francis to understand that what happened, happened to the both of them.

"You... you're saying we've never touched before? We've know each other for literally centuries and we never fucking touched before? How is that even fucking possible," Arthur blurts out trying to find some sense in what's happening - and failing, obviously.

"Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are."

"So... does this mean-"

"That we're soulmates? I believe it does."

"Well, fuck.”

 

"I can't fucking believe it."

"Stop swearing, I don't like when you swear. It sounds weird, stop."

"I can't fucking believe it, Arthur. I fucking can't fucking believe it!"

"Yes, I understood the first time around."

"Fuck! It's not possible, I don't want this to be real."

"I'm starting to get offended, Francis."

"I don't give a fuck!"

"Well, this just happened and you need to come to terms with... this thing. Also I feel like you should focus more on the fact that we're soulmates."

"I can't focus on that, not right now!"

"Well I still think that-"

"I can't believe the word that triggered the soulmate thing was fucking Brexit. If you'll excuse me I'll go throw myself out of the window."

"You know you can't die, right?"

"I can try.”

 

The handwriting on Arthur's wrist is the most elegant thing he has ever saw in his whole life. And he has existed for the last two hundred years so that's really something.

It really is amazing, though. The most elegant handwriting that compliments very well the look Arthur usually goes for: a gentleman with a name written in a perfect calligraphy on the wrist.

The fact is that the name is Francis' name. And the handwriting is Francis' handwriting. And Arthur loves his tattoo but doesn't know what the fuck to do.

He hasn't know for the past two hundred years.

 

Tell me your name, that's the phrase written on Francis' collarbone. Tell me your name, and he always hated the thing - the way that phrase sounded so commanding, almost like an order. That phrase is supposed to be the very first thing his soulmate will say to him and honestly? Francis isn't really sure he really want to know who that is.

Not in this circumstances.

And then Arthur shows up and everything is even worse than what Francis feared. Arthur is even worse than what Arthur feared.

The tattoo on his collarbone has never felt more like a curse.

 

There's this strange theory - Francis has known about this for the most part of his life - about soulmates sharing the same fingerprints and it's really weird. Then again, soulmates are weird, he supposes it goes well along with this madness.

And soulmates are two in a million so he shouldn't even be thinking about this, to be honest.

At least that's what he thinks before the police comes knocking to his door and start asking questions about where he was a few nights before.

And it turns out he does have a soulmate. He does share his fingerprints with someone.

A murderer.

 

"So, have you ever told anyone about your tattoo?" Francis asks with a particular kind of voice - and Arthur knows it's because this is a delicate subject. And it's only a few years they've gotten so close - it's only a few years they are somehow comfortable with discussing such topics.

"Not really. My siblings don't know either. It helps that it's in a- hidden place."

"Oh, how hidden? Because mine is kind of hidden too."

"Yeah? Mine is... thigh. I won't tell more."

"Oh, mine too. Inner thigh, and it's the cutest tiny lily. I quite like it, you know?"

"... Are you kidding me?”

 

It takes Arthur a few years to realize exactly how his soulmate tattoo works.

And it's very poetic and very meaningful and all of that but also? Fuck that shit. Arthur doesn't need all of that, no matter how poetic that is.

He doesn't need to constantly check the lilies on his shoulder to see if they're still nice and flourishing or if something is happening. He doesn't need to constantly check the lilies on his shoulder with the fear that they're suddenly showing some signs of distress and wonder what's happening to Francis.

Arthur doesn't want to constantly wonder about Francis well-being. It's not fair.

 

Francis always thought the soulmate clock thing would've been pretty easy to deal with. A tattoo of a clock that counts down the time until you meet your soulmate? Sounds pretty easy, yes.

It never occurred to him that things could get more complicated than that.

Because his clock counts down and when it reaches zero, Francis is meeting a whole lot of people for the first time.

"I'm Callum and these are my siblings. Saoirse, Arthur, Bran and Ossian," and there's no telling sensation inside of him, no revealing moment, no nothing. Just Francis in front of a whole family.

Well, fuck, it's Francis' only rational thought. So much for pretty easy to deal with.

 

It takes Arthur a fuckton of time to realize that Francis is his soulmate.

(It takes Arthur far less time to realize he's in love with Francis and honestly? That figures.)

Francis is always so carefree and breezy and cheerful. Francis always looks so happy - always laughing, always joking. It never occurred to him that things could be different. That Francis could feel in such a different way.

But his dreams? His dreams speak for themselves. There isn't a single night Arthur - and therefore Francis - doesn't have nightmares. There isn't a single night Arthur doesn't wake up screaming.

And it's horrible enough without thinking that Francis is the one going trough this alone.

 

Arthur finds out about Francis during the war. And it's awful enough that they're apart and that he has just found out that Francis is his soulmate. The war doesn't help at all.

When he dreams, he dreams of Francis. He dreams with Francis.

And Francis cries every single night, in every single dream and Arthur tries to comfort him the best he can, tries to hug him and kiss him and hold him close but nothing seem to help. Not really. Not for Francis, not for him.

They're still apart. They're still alone. Francis is so close and yet so far - and Arthur can't do anything to help him but wait.

And it kills him every single night.

 

Francis supposes having a soulmate could be much worse than this.

God, this meeting is so fucking boring, Arthur whispers in his mind and Francis has to tone down a half laugh. Arthur doesn't look bored at all. He's a very good actor, Francis found out.

Come on, don't be mean. Ludwig is doing his best.

That's the problem, see? This is his best? What happens when he's at his fucking worst?

This time Francis can't help but snicker - and he feels bad, really, because Ludwig is truly trying his best and Francis loves him so much but- fuck, he's boring.

I can't wait to get out of here, Arthur's voice is really something - he's using the tone Francis likes to call the pirate voice - and Francis is suddenly very much awake.

Me too.

 

It's not that Arthur doesn't like the fact that Francis has a healthy sex life.

(He does, he does hate it but for other reasons. He's a modern man and he doesn't have Francis' sex life. He hates the fact that Francis' sex life doesn't include him.)

It's not that Arthur doesn't like it, it's just that this whole feeling what your soulmate feels is hard enough on its own, whatever emotion Francis is currently feeling. And it's really fucking worse when your soulmate is constantly having sex and you're supposed to be a normal person who isn't aroused all of the fucking time.

 

"How exactly did you figured it out?" Francis asks in a whispers, laying comfortably next to Arthur, head on his chest. Arthur is running his hand through Francis' hair and there's nothing that could ruin that moment.

"That you were my soulmate?"

"I figured it out because of colors. The first time I met you everything became so much... colorful. Vibrant. It was really something amazing to see, you know? You remember where we were? In the forest?"

"Yeah, I remember. It was the sounds, for me. Remember when you sang because you thought you were alone? You weren't. And it was so much more vibrant, like you said.”

 

There's the morning Arthur wakes up right in the middle of Provence and he doesn't fucking know why. Well, he does know why, to be really honest.

It must be because of his soulmate and Arthur only has to look around one time to understand who the fuck his soulmate is. He recognizes half of those objects and he certainly recognizes the clothes in the wardrobe and the jewelry in the pretty boxes. (Yes, boxes, plural.)

It must be Francis. It has to be Francis. And it takes him a shitton of time to realize that Francis is now in London, right in his home. And, fuck.

It took Arthur a few moments to realize this was Francis' house. Francis won't take long too. Fuck.

 

 

"Francis! Francis, fuck, please-" Arthur's voice is chocked up and for a few seconds Francis doesn't really understand why. Then he remembers he has just being shot and honestly that sounds like a pretty good reason to cry. And it's kind of nice that Arthur cares so much.

"It's okay," Francis manages to push out of his throat and, God, talking is really fucking difficult when you're dying. "You know I'll come back-"

"This doesn't make things better, you dumbass."

"How about a kiss?"

But the fact is Francis is starting to feel better? And he doesn't know if that's because Arthur is holding in a certain way or if it's because he's dying. It almost doesn't feel like he is, dying.

It's only after a few hours that they get it. The perks of being soulmates.

 

The fact that they can't die has always been kind of a consolation for Arthur.

They can't die - and in a world where the only way to die is to be killed by your own soulmate, that is a fucking nice thing to know. Especially because Arthur is a little bit paranoid.

And it gets worse, really, the exact minute he finds out Francis is his soulmate. Because even through his paranoid Arthur is sure nothing bad can happen: they can't die and Francis is the last person on earth who could kill him.

But as time passes and wars go by, it finally hits him. They can die. They most definitely can die. They can disappear. And there's nothing easier than dying by the hand of your soulmate when all it takes is a war.

 

It takes Francis a lifetime to find Arthur again. And it's not true, not really: it takes him a whole lot of lifetimes and a whole fucking lot of time and a whole fucking lot of patience and a whole fucking lot of pain.

But he's ready, the second every single life comes to his mind again - the second he meets Arthur again, the seconds he recognizes him as his soulmate - he's ready. And he's not going to waste any other second.

Arthur has the same look as Francis and things are going to get better. This will be the time they remember, Francis is sure of it.

He can't face it any other way.

*

“I told you I wasn’t going to complain.”

“Are you enabling my bad habits, my dear?” Arthur asks in a low whisper, kissing Francis’ hand with a sly smile. He’s sitting on his favorite armchair and it doesn’t take much to persuade Francis to sit right on his lap. Arthur will always love this.

“I’ve found out a long time ago that it’s best to just... let you do what you want,” Francis smiles right back and kissed him. Arthur knows what Francis really thinks - and he couldn’t be happier. The way the complete each other… it’s just perfect.

“I like how you think.”

 

“You know, the Sorting Hat told me I’d fit in every house.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Arthur rolls his eyes but immediately stops when he sees the weird look on Francis’ face. “What is it, what’s the matter?”

“It’s just… you think I’m too plain? I mean I don’t even have a stupid house.”

“Fuck no. I think that’s the fucking proof you’re fucking perfect. That means you’re brave like a Gryffindor and loyal like an Hufflepuff and cunning like a Slytherin and smart like a Ravenclaw. That means you’re fucking perfect. And I hate you.”

“I love you too. You always know what to say.”

 

“You know, I always loved vampires.”

“... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I think you do, Arthur.”

“Oh, but I definitely don’t, Francis.”

“So you mean to tell me everything I noticed about you is just a flick of my mind? My foolish, human mind?”

“Just your mind, not human mind.”

“So you mean to tell me the blood in the fridge isn’t actually blood. Just blood oranges juice.”

“... Yes.”

“Oh, cool. So it’s okay if I drink some of it. Some of your special morning juice that no one can touch.”

“... No.”

 

“I think I kinda like this,” Arthur whispers against Francis’ silky hair, enjoying the quiet and the silence of the night. Day. He doesn’t really have a single clue how much time has passed - he never knows, not when they have one of their... passionate moments. It’s quite refreshing, honestly.

“Me too,” Francis answers lazily and, as usual, Arthur has never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire existence. And he has been alive - well, dead - for the last eight hundred years.

“So... do your think we should get rid of the bod- I mean, our breakfast, as soon as we can?”

 

“Do you remember that one time I proposed to you and you said no?” Arthur asks lazily and Francis almost shudders - because that particular voice is really enough to make him freeze. Arthur sounds relaxed? You better run for the hills.

“... Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Oh, how foolish I was-”

“Nice try. Was it because of the flowers?”

“... What?”

“Was it because of the flowers? Or the place? The ring was priceless so it couldn’t be the ring. What was it?”

“Oh my God, stop, you’re spiraling.”

“Tell me why.”

“It was nineteen lifetimes ago! Let it go!”

 

“What would you say if I told you that I want to make you my queen?” Arthur asks almost abruptly and he doesn’t even have to check to know Francis must look dazzled.

“I’d say you’re trying to get me in your bed and I’d also say you don’t need to convince me,” Francis jokes but Arthur can see the interest in his eyes. Arthur knows him too well not to notice.

“I know I don’t need to persuade you to get in my bed,” and there it is again, the wolfish grin. “I still want you to be my queen, though.”

 

“I like your bike,” Francis whispers and Arthur can almost feel his legs giving up. What the fuck was that voice? How the fuck is that even legal? And he’s supposed to be stoic and indifferent but Francis is wearing a dress that really shows... everything and Arthur suddenly doesn’t even know how to write stoic.

“You so?” it’s the only answer that comes to his mind and Arthur would really like to punch himself.

“I do. Would you take me for a ride?”

“... I’d do anything you’d like. Anything.”

 

“As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?”

“Oh, come on now. Are you fucking kidding me, Arthur? You’re huge and dangerous and really sexy, who the fuck wouldn’t love you?”

“… I’m pretty sure this isn’t how the story should go.”

“I don’t care how the story should go, I’m right, you’re wrong. Shut up. Shut up, come here and fuck me.”

“What-”

“You heard what I said. Come here and fuck me. And don’t forget the shut up part. Unless you’re into dirty talk, I like that.”

“Can you believe they thought I had to be a bachelor, Francis? A bachelor. I mean, why?”

“I don’t know, honey, maybe it’s because you never take me to the company’s dinners.”

“… I feel like this comeback is something you were expecting from quite a lot.”

“Impeccable instincts as always, Arthur.”

“But you know why I don’t bring you-”

“No I don’t. You could always explain me why.”

“But-”

“Is it because I’m a man?”

“Fuck no! How could you even think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe if you’d tell me why-”

“It’s because they’ll all look at you. You know I don’t like when other people look at you.”

 

“So if I’m understanding this correctly… you’re the heir of the most ancient Gryffindor family that ever existed,” Arthur asks with a glint in his eyes that makes Francis beam with pride. He’s really loving this. Every little aspect of this.

“Yes, you’re correct.”

“And you’re also the heir of one of the most powerful Slytherin families. Because…” Arthur trails off but his eyes are still focused. Francis admires his control, really.

“Because my mother was blood-adopted by that side of my family.”

“Your mother. Who is a demon.”

“A pure demon.”

“You never cease to amaze me, my dear.”

 

“I like pretty things,” the dragon grumble lowly and the whole place almost vibrates with the intensity of his voice. Francis is half scared half intrigued. It’s not every day you end up being compliment by an ancient creature. Definitely not something Francis was expecting.

The dragon shifts on his mountain of gold and jewels - Francis must admit the creature has impeccable taste.

“I think I’ll keep you here,” this time the dragon laughs and a few seconds later there’s a man, right in front of Francis. Offering him a necklace. Francis thinks he could get used to this.

 

“I swear to Merlin, Kirkland, if anything’s happens to you I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

“It’s so nice of you to worry about me.”

“It’s not my fault I have a stupid fucking boyfriend who really fucking loves to put himself into fucking dangerous situations.”

“Your father is the fucking headmaster, he should keep me safe. You know that, right? Safe doesn’t go well with Triwizard Tournament.”

“My father didn’t force you to join! You stupid, dumb fuck!”

“I love the fact that you start cursing when you’re scared.”

 

Alec is helpless and will always be helpless, when it comes to Jace. When it comes to saying no to Jace.

Maybe that’s why he consent, when they offer him to create a parabatai bound. Because Jace wants this and Alec couldn’t deny him anything. Not if the thing Jace wanted was something Alec could give him.

His whole family is proud, Izzie is proud, Jace is proud.

Alec tries not to focus on how much stronger the thing inside his stomach has grown - on how he feels pulled towards Jace.

Alec tries to stop feeling at all - because everything is better than knowing he’ll never get what he wants.

 

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy, Bonnefoy!”

“Oh my God, you’re so dumb. What does that even mean.”

“That you’re fraternizing with the enemy school, I thought that was clear enough. Even for you.”

“And you wonder why I accepted Ludwig invitation to the Yule ball. He doesn’t call me stupid, you know?”

“He’s the enemy!”

“He’s a handsome young man. And he’s very smart and he’s a real gentleman.”

“I’m a real gentleman! It’s not my fault you don’t notice!”

“Also it’s not like someone else invited me.”

“… What are you talking about, the whole school invited you.”

“I was talking about you. Now who’s the dumb one?”

 

“So… you can summon dead people,” Francis says like he’s talking about ice cream and lovely summer days and Arthur doesn’t get it. Not really. It’s all so fucked up.

And then again he’s a son of Hades, everything he knows is pretty fucked up.

“Yes. More like skeletons than zombies, though.”

“Cool. Can I see one?”

“… Are you kidding me? I thought you’d be scared.”

“Scared? I’m a son of Zeus, I’ve been dabbling in beheadings, cannibalism and non consensual relationship since I was born. Skeletons don’t scare me. Actually they sound pretty nice.”

Arthur wants to ask Francis to marry him.

 

“It’s so cool that Camp Half-blood exists!” Francis eyes are still widen and Arthur can’t help but smile in return. The way he’s still so shocked is really pretty. Francis is really pretty. Well, fuck.

“Camp Jupiter sounds pretty cool too.”

“It is, it really is! I love the place. Even though orange isn’t really my color.”

“Every color is your color,” Arthur blurts out before he can stop himself. Fuck. Well, fuckity fuck fuck.

“… You’re so nice. Is it like a greek thing or what?”

“Nope. No, just me. Everybody else is the worst.”

“Well… do you want to show me around?”

 

“Have you ever met you father?” Arthur asks in a whisper. He can almost physically hear how Francis hand is close to his own. It would be so easy to brush their fingers together. If Arthur were a little bit more daring he’d take Francis’ hand and the he’d kiss him. But he’s a damn coward so he doesn’t.

“Twice. I like him very much. He’s handsome and has a certain… gravitas, I suppose. And I thought Juno would absolutely hate me but she seems pretty nice, really. They’re both terrifying, to be honest, but I think my dad is pretty proud of me.”

“It must be nice.”

 

“I have something to ask you, my dear,” Arthur isn’t exactly whispering so almost the whole Great Hall turns to look towards him and the Gryffindor’s table. Francis doesn’t exactly know what’s happening - or why Arthur has that particular glint in his eyes - but this sounds like a surprise and he does love surprises.

So he raises his eyebrows and smiles softly, waiting for Arthur to go on - and trying to ignore the murderous glares from the Slytherin’s table. They never liked their relationship. Not that Francis cares, in six months they’ll be out of there.

“Will you marry me?”

“What the fuck?”

 

“I could offer you the most amazing, daring life. Far away from all your obligations, far away from all those boring people and boring parties. A life with me,” the pirate is whispering in Francis’ ear as they still dance slowly, the eyes of an entire crowd on them. Francis doesn’t care.

(Is there anything else other than the two of them? Is there anything else that exists in this moment?)

“But I couldn’t-”

“You could. I’m offering you this life, my dear. At my side. I’d make you… my queen.”

Francis almost melts in Arthur’s arms and in that precise moment the pirate knows he has already won.

 

“Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking, Kirkland, really.”

Arthur would very much like to be swallowed up by the ground rather than be in the same room as a sarcastic Francis. There’s absolutely nothing worse than that. Absolutely nothing.

Especially when he’s the object of the sarcasm. Francis is looking at him with that subtle glint in his eyes and Arthur can feel his face heat up. Fuck.

“I thought it was a good idea,” he tries to reply, knowing fully well it won’t do much. Francis is snarky, today.

“Yes, I can see that. Thank God you’re very good at fucking me.”

“Francis! For heaven’s sake!”

 

“Sometimes I think you love the cat more than you love me.”

“Oh, that’s because I do, Arthur.”

“... Well, you could at least pretend. Fuck.”

“What’s the point in pretending? You already know I love him more! He doesn’t give me the side eyes whenever I do something he doesn’t like, he’s very cuddly and enjoys all the food I give him without complaining.

“I enjoy all the food you cook me!”

“And yet you still complain.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. You love me because I complain all the time. God knows why.”

“... That’s true, I can’t deny it.”

 

“God I love to watch your show with you here,” Francis whispers against Arthur’s lips, draping himself across his husband lap. Just the way Arthur likes it.

“Oh, you do? And why is that?”

“Because I find you really sexy, mr The Late Show with Arthur Kirkland, and since I find you really sexy and you’re actually here with me, it means I can...” Francis doesn’t finish the sentence. And he doesn’t have to, really, especially since he’s just dropped on his knees, right in front of Arthur.

God, he loves everything about this.

Albeit hearing his own voice on the tv while Francis proceeded to give him the best blowjob of his life is a bit strange.

 

“I can’t believe you’re a muggle!” Arthur sounds almost excited and it takes him a while to realize he has made a mistake. A huge mistake. Francis doesn’t look happy. At all. But Arthur is a complete fool in love and it does take him a while.

“What did you call me?”

“I can’t believe it! I really thought you were a witch!”

“... Excuse me, what?” Francis now looks absolutely frightening and Arthur isn’t that much stupid. Now he definitely knows he fucked up.

“No, I meant-”

“I think you really want to break up with me. There’s no other rational explanation.”

 

It takes Jesse a really long time before he actually understands Gabriel Reyes is not completely made of steel and raw power and snarky remarks and sarcasm.

It takes Jesse a really, really long time but when he does realize that, everything changes. He's suddenly able to see him in a different way and he's not really sure this is a good thing, after all. Thinking about Gabriel Reyes is not a good idea, not when the kind of thoughts aren't exactly the kind of thoughts he should have about his commander.

But Jesse doesn't think he could actually come back from where he is now. He doesn't think that's possible. And yes, things are messier and weirder and more complicated but he wouldn't really want to just go back and see Gabriel as some kind of emotionless soldier.

 

"Do you remember that pride in Berlin?" Ludwig asks with a glint in his eyes and Francis immediately starts laughing. Arthur doesn't really know what to think - but he's sure he'd really fucking rather not be there.

"Oh my God, you mean the one when I persuaded you to wear all leather and feathers?"

"That one, mein schatz, I obviously meant that one."

"I like how I've completely corrupted you. Years ago you'd be dead because of a conversation like this."

"I think seeing you all dressed in feathers and only feathers does thing to a man."

"Uh, what things does it do for you?”

 

"What do you mean we should leave the spaceport as soon as we can?" Francis asks inquisitively and Arthur grins with the wolfish smile he manages. Francis hates how much he loves that grin. How much he's fucking turned on by that grin.

"Let's just say someone recognize me."

"... For fuck's sake, Arthur. I was going to buy some clothes, I need new clothes. I want new clothes."

"I'll gift you a whole new shop, but we have to hurry."

"You can't always buy me like this!"

"I can, I've already done it."

"Fuck you!"

"I'll fuck you as soon as we go back to the ship.”

 

"Uh... Hi. I'm Arthur. I own the-"

"Oh, you're from the tattoo shop right in front of us!"

"You... know me?"

"I see you all the time when you come to work, in the morning! I tried to say hello to you but you usually have your headphones and you probably didn't notice me."

"How could anyone not notice you?"

"... Oh my God, you're so cute. I'm so glad you stopped by."

"Thank you? I guess?"

"Do you want something to eat? I've just made a few batches of cookies and they're delicious, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, I'd like that very much.”

 

“So you don’t necessarily agree with this… policy?” Arthur asks politely and yet Francis is still able to detect the subtle interest in his voice. Something that would be normal for anyone, something no one would notice with interest.

Except Arthur isn’t anyone and Francis isn’t no one.

“I don’t. Point and blank. My mother was a demon, you know?” Francis smiles at the flash of surprise that crosses Arthur’s eyes. “A pure demon, one of the latest in our world. So technically I’m a half-demon. So no, I don’t agree with this ridiculous policy against dark creatures.”

“You’re quite full of surprises.”

 

It starts as a warm nudge in his stomach, a tiny something that crawls deeper inside of him every single time Alec looks at Jace. A soft pull, a shift inside of his chest. For quite some time Alec thinks he might have been cursed - and he looks into it, like the good, studious kid that he is.

He doesn’t remember the moment he understood exactly what that feeling meant. He doesn’t remember the moment he understood that was nothing magical about it.

He does remember the first time he understood the implications of what he felt. The difference between his newly found feelings for Jace and his obligation towards the rest of his family. The stern look of his mother and the smug grin on Jace’s face.

 

Francis is singing in a low voice, almost a whisper, and the whole crowd almost looks enchanted. He’s whispering about dreams and nightmares and horror and blood and Arthur can’t help but wonder how does that merge with Francis… bubbly appearance. Francis is and will always be a mystery.

“What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me? What are you wondering? What do you know? Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go?”

Francis sings and Arthur, just like the rest of the crowd, is completely captured.

 

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Arthur drawls slowly, gazing intently into Francis' eyes. He knows exactly how to behave and of it doesn't take much time for the other man to fall exactly where Arthur wanted. He knows him, knows what he likes. He likes gentlemen and it is such sheer luck Arthur is exactly that.

"A real pleasure, but I'm afraid I don't know who you are?" Francis answer with a light smile but Arthur can see the glint in his eyes. It's enough. It'll be enough.

"Arthur Kirkland, at your service," as he takes Francis' hand and kisses it. Oh, this will be easy enough, he can already see it.

 

"They say the lady is beautiful; it’s true, I’ve seen it myself. And virtuous; that’s true, I can’t disprove that. And smart, except that she loves me. That may not be any proof of her intelligence, but I swear it won’t be evidence of her stupidity—for I’m going to be horribly in love with her!"

"Oh my God, you're born to play this role, Arthur," Francis almost sighs and Arthur can't help but feel pretty smug. He does enjoy compliments. There's no denying that.

"I know, right? He's such an amazing, well-written, intelligent and complex-"

"Dumbass."

"... What? What did you say?"

"What?”

 

"Where am I? Is this a hotel? What the heck is happening? Where am I? Did I already ask where the heck am I? What's happening? Someone answer me, please!"

That entire monologue is exactly what it took to kindle the spark in Raphael's soul. Not that he has a soul. Whatever. That entire fucking monologue almost burns inside him and his whole mind is screaming a single word at once. Soulmates.

The annoying handsome (damn it) guy, chained into a chair right in front of him is his soulmate.

So, that's really something.

"Well, I can't fucking kill you, now, can I?”

 

"So, you and Jace, uh?" Izzie asks and doesn't even try to hide the subtle smirk she's sporting right now. Sometimes Alec hates her.

(It's not true, he would never hate her, she's the best thing in his family. But fuck, nonetheless.)

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answers immediately, without even thinking, because that's his standard answer when it comes to Jace. The safest one, really.

"I'm not blind, you know that, right?"

"Yes, I think I would've noticed."

"Yes, and I noticed him checking your ass, yesterday."

Alec almost chokes on air and Izzie lets out a laugh. The little shit.

 

 

"Is this okay?"

Diego doesn't really know what to do. It's not like he has never been in a relationship - he had quite the fair share of girlfriends and lovers and while he doesn't call himself an expert, he still think he's pretty good at general relationship stuff.

But Klaus is Klaus. (And also: Klaus is a man and is his brother. And that really is something. Something he doesn't want to think about, to be honest.)

"Yup, of course," Klaus replies lazily, with a smile that Diego does not want to address. It's better to just kiss him again and make him shut up.

 

“Do you ever shut up?” Rapahel blurts out after what seemed like hours, his head almost throbbing. How the fuck did he end up in that fucking situation, holy fuck. Holy fuck.

“Nope, I don’t!” Simons claps back gleefully and Raphael has to drown the urge of killing him. He can’t, damn it. He’d never hear the end of it and he doesn’t want those damn Shadowhunters crawling all over the place.

So he simply can’t kill Simon.

It’s not because Raphael likes him, of course.

“So you’re not gonna answer any of my questions?”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t!”

 

"I quite liked the way you stood up to the headmaster, Bonnefoy."

Francis looks even more beautiful in the light of the sun - shining on his hair and making his skin look perfect. Well, even more perfect.

"Why, thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm just saying what I think," Arthur goes on almost nonchalantly, sitting right next to Francis and smiling when he sees the other boy reacting to their closeness. Unlike every other student, Francis isn't afraid of him.

Arthur isn't the best at social clues but he knows how to read what he could need. And Francis is attracted to him.

 

"What do you think of the Beauxbatons students?" Saoirse asks in a whispers, leaning slightly to her left to talk to her younger brother. Arthur doesn't look like he's listening, though. He looks quite... focused. On a particular student. A particular foreign student.

"Oh... so it's like this, is it?"

"What? What is like what?" Arthur snaps out of it but Saoirse still manages to see the dumb smile he offered to the other student. And the other student? Looks like he can't wait to eat Arthur alive.

"Uh, I think he likes you."

"Shut up." 

 

"So... you and Klaus, uh?"

"What? What- How? What?" Diego sputters and Allison tries her best to keep down a laugh. Five is looking cocky, as usual, and Luther has suddenly gone pale. Which is utterly foolish, if you ask her. The only one who still looks the same is Vanya. But then again, that's not really a surprise.

Klaus starts laughing like a mad man and Diego elbows him right in the stomach.

"What the fuck? Why are you laughing?"

"What? What-How? What?" Klaus mimics Diego's words with the exact amount of panic in his brother's voice and that alone is enough to make everybody else start laughing.

"I like the way you look now. I mean, the way you act and look. You seem so much more comfortable than before."

Francis' eyes widen slightly and Ludwig can only hope he hasn't offended him. Her, fuck. Her.

"I didn't seem comfortable?"

"I was used to see you much more confident. I think this is it. Confident. In the last few years you looked less so and it worried me."

"I always knew you were careful but I thought I was able to... pretend a little bit better."

"Maybe it's because I know you so well. After all you always saw trough me.”

 

"So... is this something you expected?" Francis asks quietly, trying not to sound too... anything. He has learned Arthur can feel quite attacked with almost anything. Every tone, every expression, every look that he doesn't like. And this isn't the moment, not after what they just found out.

"That we're drift compatible? Fuck no."

"Well, me neither. I'm a little bit worried, if I'm being honest."

"Just a little bit? We're going to punch giant monsters. Quite literally."

"Well," Francis laughs quietly, leaning towards Arthur. "I'm glad it's you. I feel safer with you.”

"I’m glad it’s you, too. I’ll keep you safe.”

 

"I really don't get how you're a Hufflepuff. I really don't get it. Gryffindor I'd understand, you're brave and all those stupid things. Ravenclaw I'd understand, because you're really fucking smart. Slytherin I'd understand, because you're cunning and most of the time you scare me. But Hufflepuff? How in the hell?"

"Hufflepuffs are the ones who think that having brains is less important than applying brains. Hufflepuffs get their boots wet and their hands dirty, and they make things happen without demanding attention because they've got better things to do."

"... Shit. I see it, now. I see it. Fuck, Gabriel.”

 

"So, you're a vampire."

"Yes, I am a vampire. Your instincts are quite superb, McCree, you have only said this twelve times already."

"Stop being sassy. I'm trying to cope, here."

"You are trying to cope."

"Yeah."

"I understand. After all I am probably your first vampire."

"I'm still trying to cope with the fact that you're a vampire. The thing about other vampires or you being the first one will come later. I'm gonna cope with one thing at the time, for the sake of my sanity."

"Amazing."

"... So, you're a vampire."

"I am going to murder you, McCree.”

 

"I fucking hate all of this."

"The nuclear apocalypse, Arthur? I'm glad you do, it would have been weird if you didn't, honestly."

"Stop being such a smartass. It's not the time nor the place."

"I'm thinking this will be the only time and place for a long time. And quite a long time."

"Oh, God. I want my phone back."

"The first thing you miss is your phone? I didn't expected it, honestly."

"Why. what do you miss? Your wardrobe? The kitchen?"

"I was going to say a really good shotgun, but I guess the wardrobe is a nice alternative too."

 

Arthur doesn't understand a single word of that particular song and yet it still manages to capture him like no other song ever did before. Probably because it's not the song, per se, it's the singer.

And, boy, what singer.

The french club is filled with people celebrating the end of the war and Arthur supposes it somehow reflects on the way the man is singing. He has never seen someone sing like that. He has never seen someone more beautiful, to be honest.

And he shouldn't really look at him that way - not with so many other people in the same room. Arthur feels like everybody's watching him, like he's a fish in a tank. And he doesn't care.

Francis has never looked more beautiful.

Francis is singing his most know song - the one about diamonds and men and the usual stuff that makes the crowd go wild - and it doesn't take much for the whole Olympia to be completely captivated by Francis... graces.

Arthur surely isn't immune to Francis' charm. He really isn't and he's past the point of shame. Really fucking past beyond that.

It's not his first time there - and it certainly won't be the last - and yet he still feels like a virgin. Francis does that effect. He shakes values and certainties right off every single man and woman in the club.

The temple is quiet and filled with darkness and everything's silent. It's the middle of the night and Francis knows he shouldn't be there. Not alone, not without his father, not without one of the ministers.

Francis doesn't care.

He heard the calling - he doesn't care that no one believes him, he doesn't care that his father and his siblings thinks he's crazy. Francis heard the call and he has no intention of ignoring it.

"Come to me, child," he hears the call again and he recognizes the voice.

One of their gods is calling and Francis doesn't want anything more than answer.

"Look, Arthur, I don't care if you don't agree with me. I'm not okay with this and if you were smart you wouldn't be okay either. It's a witch hunt! I'm not going to be part of another fucking witch hunt! I had my fair share of that mess and I don't want nothing like that. Not anymore."

"Francis, look-"

"And honestly? It's so stupid that we're even discussing this after everything that happened just a few decades ago! We should be focusing on being better, we should be focusing on doing better than what we did-"

"Francis, I agree with you!"

"... You do?”

The last thing Arthur wanted was getting looped up in an arranged marriage. That was exactly the last thing he wanted from his life - and obviously it's exactly what is going to happen in the next months. Because his kingdom needs it, his country needs it and his court demands it.

And Arthur can't really say no to that.

When the day comes he accepts his destiny because that's what kings do. He'll just have to repress everything he has inside and... pretend. He's good at pretending.

He's way less good at pretending he doesn't feel anything when he lifts his bride's veil and underneath it founds the most beautiful man he has ever seen.

It's bad enough that Arthur loves theatre. It's bad enough that he loves every single part of it, it's bad enough that he wishes he could be a part of it. It's bad enough that he knows so many different theatre writers and actors. Everything he just thought of it's bad enough when you're living in a country and in an age where theatre is considered somehow satanic.

But falling in love with an actor? God, that's just plain stupid.

(And finding out Francis looks stunning even when he's dressed as woman in order to play the leading female role? That's just plain foolish.)

"Excuse me? Excuse me, I'd really like it if you could please shut the fuck up!" Arthur shouts right out of the door of the apartment right in front of his.

The whole place belongs to a, frankly rude, italian huge muscular dude and apparently? Complaints don't work with him. But the fact remains that Arthur's neighbor is a fucking opera singer. Of all things.

Arthur bangs on the door again and again and again until the singing stops and the door opens. And there he is, the most beautiful man he has ever seen. Smirking at him.

"I suppose you've already talked to my father, did you?"

"... The owner is your father? That's not fucking fair!"

"Do you want a coffee?"

"Yes, please.”

"Your usual black coffee, Arthur?" Francis asks with his most genuine smile, hand resting comfortably against his hip in the most stunning pose Arthur has ever seen. And it's even worse because Francis is not even doing this on purpose.

"Yes, thank you," he manages to blurts out - and, God, he'd kill himself if he could. He isn't even able to talk with a waiter, for God's sake. It shouldn't be that hard.

Except, of course, Francis is fucking gorgeous and every witty sentence that comes to Arthur's mind goes out of his mouth like dumb babbling.

"Of course. I'll be back in a few minutes," Francis looks somehow disappointed and Arthur decides this is it. This is the day he'll ask him out.

"Francis?"

"Yes?"

"Would you- I'd like to- I'll take a muffin, too.”

 

“Unhand me, you brute,” Francis is almost shrieking and Arthur can’t help but laugh at the sight. Francis, who’s usually so calm and collected - and perfect and always in his place - half dressed, with his hair loosely falling out of his usual bow. Screaming like a woman.

Arthur is loving every single minute of this.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“What do you think, you-” Francis can’t find the right way to insult him and Arthur finds it even funnier.

There’s also the fact that Francis looks unbelievably hot like this and it makes Arthur wanna do unspeakable things to him. And that’s exactly what is going to happen, honestly.

"Where am I?"

"Arthur! Oh my God, Arthur, I was so worried!"

"Where am I?"

"It's okay, everything's fine. You're in a hospital, you've had a pretty bad car accident but you're fine, everything's fine."

"A car accident? Wow."

"Wow isn't the word I'd use but yes, a car accident. God, I was so worried. I mean the doctors told me you'd be fine but I've been here for days and you didn't wake up and-"

"You've been here for days?"

"Yes, where else would I be?"

"I don't know? Who are you?"

"... That's not funny. It really isn't the right time for your stupid sense of humor, Arthur."

"I'm not joking. Do I know you?”

"I like your gifts, Arthur," Francis practically purrs against his mouth, draped across his lap, and Arthur can't help the wolfish smile that's suddenly on his lips. This feels like raw power and Arthur has always loved power. He won't deny it. Why would he?

"I know you do. Especially when it's jewelry."

"You know me so well," Francis smiles as he licks Arthur's lower lip and, damn, thinking is suddenly really difficult. "But are you sure you... want this? You don't feel forced to, do you?”

"Let me take care of you. I want to take care of you in every possible way.”

 

It's not easy being a shadowhunter. Endless training and endless killing and endless fighting even when you'd like nothing more than to curl up with a book and a nice cup of tea. And Arthur really likes his tea and his books.

But, alas, that's his destiny. It's what his family does, it's what his family always did. And he likes it, really, it's just... too much, sometimes.

Especially when you have to meet the High Warlock of Paris and you find out he's - Francis, that's his name - really fucking gorgeous.

And that really complicates things.