The place Francis took them too wasn't a cheap love hotel though. Walking in, the first thing that grabbed his attention was a chandelier hanging in the lobby. Going up the front, Francis asked for a key and spoke a little with the person at the front desk. "Set it up like usual," he said before pausing. "Er...besides the roses. He won't like that." Of course he loved roses, but wouldn't that send an odd signal? Taking his key, he headed down a hall, looking very much like he knew the place like the back of his hand.

Arthur stood a bit behind Francis while he was talking to the person at the desk. He couldn't help but overhear what was said. Set it up like usual? How often did he come here? That thought made him feel a bit cheap but then he remembered how long its been since he was last with someone, so he got over it. It wasn't like this meant anything, after all. He followed the Frenchman down the hall, his feet a bit more steady under him the more he walked. "So... How often do you come here?" he asked, slightly curious yet not really wanting to know the answer.

Francis glanced over. The experienced part of him knew he needed to respond tactfully, but the other part of him disliked lying. He wouldn't lead anyone on or play with them. "Often enough for them to know my name," he said without looking Arthur in the eye. It didn't mean anything. This didn't mean anything. For once, he might have wanted more from this fascinating Englishman, but he denied himself the opportunity, claiming in his mind that it didn't mean anything to Arthur. Oh well. He unlocked the room to find a bottle of white wine left in an ice bucket on the entry table, two glasses, and dim lighting. It should have had candles and roses if he were romances a woman, but the path to the bed was bare for now. "Let's have a bit of wine first shall we?"

Arthur said nothing to Francis's answer to his question. It wasn't one he liked, but one he expected based on how Francis spoke to the man at the front desk. He couldn't help a little laugh at the other's suggestion for wine. He didn't mean for it to come out, it just did. "Alright. Though if I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to get me drunk." he told him. Not that the wine would be needed for that. He was already at that point. Even if he himself didn't realize it.

Francis snorted, reclaiming some of the easier atmosphere they had earlier. "You're too late for that, mon ami, but I on the other hand haven't had a drop to drink!" He popped open the cork and poured two glasses. "I'd suggest just me drinking, but somehow that doesn't seem right." Now that he was in a relaxed place, he pulled the tie out of his hair and let the golden waves tumble down in a mess. The vest he wore over his white shirt got ditched over the back of the chair as he took his drink to the bed and stretched out. "Come join me?"

Arthur watched Francis get his drink and sit in the bed. He felt it would be rude if he let the Frenchman drink alone. "Alright." How mumbled. He picked up the glass of wine and slipped it before going over to the bed and sitting next to the other. He was starting to feel hot again but wasn't sure if he would be able to strip down yet or not.

After another sip of wine, Francis reached over to run a hand along Arthur's leg. Maybe it wasn't expected, but he wasn't the type to just go at it. He liked a little something to the air. "Come on," he murmured in a low purr. "Relax a little. I'm trying to get us in the mood."

Arthur jumped very slightly when he felt Francis touch his leg, not expecting it. Not that he minded the contact. He took a sip of the wine. "I am relaxed." He told him. He didn't see how drinking some wine was supposed to put them in the mood, but he had no problem going along with it. He would have suggested playing some music to help the mood, but that seemed like a cliche` so he kept his mouth shut about it.

"Hm..." Francis hummed, like he didn't quite believe Arthur, but didn't care anyway. He loved the taste of the wine and even if it was one glass, it made him feel a little bubbly. Certainly not drunk, but giddy with happiness because of the delicious taste. Francis moved his attentions to an arm. Staring at the wrist he trailed kisses upward toward the elbow. "...You have unexpectedly soft skin."

"Thank you...?" Arthur stated/asked. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment, but he was going to take it as one. He swallowed the rest of the wine in his glass in one gulp before setting the glass on the bedside table. He then shifted his entire focus on Francis. He didn't know why, but he enjoyed just watching the Frenchman. There was something about him that was intriguing.

Francis stopped his ministrations at the feeling of eyes fully on him. "Oh..." he said, stunned. He didn't realize how green the other man's eyes were back in the club. The lighting had dulled them out, but now they looked beautiful so that he couldn't look at anything else. Not finishing his wine, he simple set the glass aside without looking away from Arthur. "I think I want you very much." With that whisper, he dragged the other man down onto the bed, his hands desperate to undress them both.

Afterwards, Arthur awoke with a start. He looked around the room, confused for a moment about how he got there. But, when his eyes landed on Francis he remembered most of what happened. There were some parts that were just blank from his memory. But he remembered enough to know what had happened. Suddenly his stomach gave a lurch and he launched towards the bathroom, just making it to the toilet in time to throw up, head pounding from the movement.

Francis slept considerably less graceful than he acted during the day. His long hair hung in his face, getting stuck to his lips as he muttered in his sleep. He'd never been a proper morning person and being a bartender didn't help either. Feeling the warmth near him leave, he rolled over and snuggled into that space. "hnn...come back..." he mumbled before he managed to grab a pillow and snuggled that in his arms.

Once Arthur had finished puking his guts out, he stayed kneeling in front of the toilet for another moment. 'I swear I'm never drinking like that again.' he promised himself. Sure, he's made that promise before. But he means it this time, honestly! He eventually got to his feet and stumbled to the sink. He rinsed his mouth out and splashed some water on his face. It helped some, but his head was still pounding. He'd have to ignore until he got home though. He went back into the main room and grabbed his clothes and pulled them on before looking back at Francis. He knew the right thing to do would be to wait until the Frenchman woke up. But he really didn't want to deal with the awkward conversation that always came after things like this. Also his head hurt and he stunk of alcohol and all he wanted to do was go home and take a shower. He thought about this for a moment and after a moments hesitation, he found a piece of paper and wrote his name and number on it. That would have to do. If the other man was still interested in talking to him, he would be free to call. Arthur left the paper where Francis would be sure to see it, right on top of his clothes. That done, the Englishman slipped out of the room as quietly as he could so that the other could sleep.

Hours later, Francis groaned and rolled over. Thoughts of 'beauty sleep' and what a joke that was flitted through his mind because he surely looked nowhere near beautiful right now. He certainly didn't feel it. "Hm? I know these sheets..." he muttered to himself. At least he knew where he sleep before he gathered enough energy to sit up. The night before came flooding back and he rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the more prickly than usual stubble on his chin. He hadn't even had a full glass of wine and his mind still felt in cobwebs.

"Arthur?" he croaked. A warm pillow flopped out of his arms. Well, of course. From the start, most of Francis' bedwarmers didn't stick around for morning, very nearly afternoon at this point. The Englishman he expected to stick around less than usual. Feeling down, Francis crawled out of bed and started gathering his things from the floor. He almost didn't notice the paper that fluttered down from on top of his shirt. "What?" He picked it up and for a second, he just stared. Then he dropped to his knees and held the paper above him in victory.

"His number! I finally got his number!" Francis cried out before kissing the paper. God, he did not expect that at all.

Arthur caught a taxi and heard home, wondering the entire ride whether or not he really should have left his number. Probably not, but it was to late for second thoughts about it. He wasn't turning around so he'd just have to deal with it if Francis did call. Not that he was really expecting him to.

He arrived home and went inside. He grabbed a couple pain pills and swallowed them to help his head before jumping into the shower. Once clean he pulled on a pair of boxers and sleeping pants before laying back down and going back to sleep. He was awoken a few hours later by his phone ringing. He answered it to find that it was his boss asking him to come in. He agreed, though he really just wanted to stay home. 'S much for having the day off.' He though, get dressed and heading out again, grabbing a banana to eat on this way.

Francis headed home with his head in a daze. Even before he showered and dressed freshly, his appearance had already gathered a certain 'lovely' aura. Such was the result of his happiness. When to call? Soon, but not too soon. A few days then. He managed to pass the rest of the day in the same manner, even forgetting his actions so much that he cooked a lavish meal for two. This attitude persisted even after he arrived at the club for another day of work.

Antonio spotted his friend coming in a few minutes later than usual. It took only a quick glance to notice the way Francis moved his his head utterly in the clouds and how his eyes glazed over, all smiles. Antonio slid onto a stool to pester him with a grin. "Your date go well?"

Francis let out a blissful sigh. "I think I'm in love."

Antonio snorted. So much for that conversation. He had no intention of dealing with loverboy Francis. "Oh god help us all! Let's see how long this one lasts." He left with that half-teasing, half-harsh comment and Francis stared after him. Antonio as always said what he wanted when he wanted, but he was usually a lot more friendly about it. Francis found himself wondering if his friend was right. Was this really love or another one of his fall in and out in the blink of an eye silly whims? Yesterday he'd been so sure this wouldn't last the night...

Arthur was miserable all day at work. His head was still hurting, but he didn't complain. It wasn't the first time he had to work with a hangover. And while it should have been another incentive not to drink so much, he still kept doing it. Time seemed to go by slowly for the next couple of days. Sure, there was plenty to do. This was a big city after all. Crime was everywhere. While that normally made time to relatively quickly, it didn't this time. He wasn't sure why though. It couldn't possibly be because he was waiting for Francis to call. Nope, that can't be it. Besides, why would he? There wasn't anything particularly special about Arthur, after all. The Frenchman probably wasn't interested. No reason for him to be. He was starting to regret giving out his number just because of this waiting.

Francis paced back and forth across the carpet of his brownhouse, phone in hand. He didn't want to sound desperate so he waited a few days and his friends kept him busy. Antonio still wanted him to play cupid, they hadn't managed to corner their dancer friend yet which left the brunette pouty. And maybe Francis wasn't trying hard enough because his head was still in the clouds. Should he call? Should he not? What if Arthur regretted leaving his number and he'd get irritated by a call, and then Francis would never see him again even at the club. Oh for christ's sake, he never acted this hesitant before. It was totally unbecoming of his player image. Finally, he dialed the number he'd already memorized and waited, praying the other would pick up.

Arthur was sitting at his desk, staring at what seemed like the hundredth file of the night. Though it of course wasn't, more like maybe the twentieth or so. He was so tired of filling out reports. That's what he's been doing all day since early this morning. He was exhausted. He hadn't been getting much sleep these past few days. Only about two or three hours a night. It left focusing on something as simple as a report hard. He stood and stretched, knowing he needed something to help keep him awake. And though he hated it, he would have to get some coffee from the shop across the street. As he was standing in line, thinking about what to get, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment, not having been expecting any calls. It wasn't a number he recognized and a small part of him hoped it was Francis. But he pushed that away as the days went by with no call. He considered not answering before deciding to go ahead and see who it was. "Hello?" He asked into the phone.

Francis cleared his throat as the familiar voice answer. He answered and it left Francis tongue-tied for a few seconds. "Hello, it's Francis. Is this Arthur?" he asked, unsure what else to say. If he started talking, he might say too much and all of it would be terribly embarrassing. "...Although you were really drunk, I hope that you remember me..."

Arthur was surprised when he heard Francis on the other end. He really wasn't expecting him to call. "Yes. This is Arthur. And I do remember you, don't worry about that. And I wasn't drunk." he stated the last part in a firm voice, slightly outraged by the assumption. Just because he had a few drinks didn't mean he was drunk.

Francis couldn't help but snort. "You were drunk. But it's good you remember." He had to hold back a sigh of relief, not wanting to show just how badly he wanted this. No need to reveal he was falling in love far too fast to be sane. "I was wondering...if maybe you'd like to go out on a date with me sometime?" he asked after a pause.

A date? Well that was certainly unexpected. Arthur had to think about that for a moment. Did he want to go on a date with Francis. The honest answer was yes. Yes he did. But he couldn't come right out and say that. Didn't want to seem to eager, after all. "Depends on what you have in mind." he told him. What time also mattered, given his schedule. But that can be discussed later.

Francis had to think and found himself humming as he did so. He'd been so hung up on just getting this far that he didn't think about what to do as a date. Normally he could plan these things with pleasure for anyone, but Arthur seemed a little special. Francis also doubted he'd appreciate some of his usual expressions of amour. "Coffee...or tea then?" he asked, amending his first idea to include the drink he felt sure the Englishman would enjoy.