"Uh... Right now?" Arthur asked. He had meant it when he said it has been been a while since he's played. His guitar was in his bedroom. It was something he would only play every now and then over the years to make sure he didn't forget how to play and he only really sang anymore in the shower. He felt really nervous at the thought of any sort of performance in front of somebody.

"Do you not want to?" Francis asked. Arthur brought singing up first so he only assumed he would be willing to perform. Apparently he assumed wrong. "Well, I can't really make you, but I do want to hear. I'm sure anything that comes from your mouth will be absolutely beautiful!" he added with an extra swoon, his hands clasped together as he sighed.

Arthur blushed at that. "I'll do it." He snapped slightly at him. "Just give me a minute to think." He knew plenty of songs, but his mind had gone completely blank. His eyes darted around the room, trying to find inspiration. They landed on the English flag that he had hanging along one wall. Having it there filled him with pride for his country and the only song that he was able to think of at the moment was his national anthem, 'God Save the Queen'. So he started singing that, keeping his head turned away from Francis.

Francis fell silent, waiting for Arthur to get his inspiration. When the other man did, he watched him with an unblinking gaze as he absorbed every note of the song. Really, Arthur did surprise him. As soon as he finished, Francis clasped his hands together with a bright smile. "Splendid! I wouldn't have guessed you could sing like that at all! Well, all the best people are filled with surprises right?"

Arthur found himself blushing again at Francis's compliment to his singing. The only other person to ever compliment him was his mother. His brothers always criticized him. "I suppose they do." he said in agreement. Though he had enjoyed singing the song, he still wasn't sure what he was going to do for a job. Getting a career for music was a hard thing to do.

Francis nodded again before he crossed his arms as he thought. "Well, at least now we know some more of your skills. That can help give us a few options at least." He could tell that Arthur didn't feel as confident in his singing as he could. Just because he could sing didn't make it the automatic first choice of a job. Francis would keep the options open still.

"I'll have a look at what jobs are available tomorrow. It will help to know what is open for me to do before deciding what I would be capable of doing. What about you? If you are going to be staying, you will need a job." Arthur told him. He hadn't quite decided whether or not Francis will be staying, though he was leaning towards yes. And the man was going to need a job as well if he stayed.

Francis pouted a bit at that. "Can't I just be your housewife? Or I suppose, you could be mine. That would make more sense actually..." He stroked his little bit of beard as he thought about that. He should consider a job since Arthur said so, but he just felt so content in this house. He didn't see why one of them couldn't just stay home if the other worked. Assuming Arthur didn't plan to kick him out of the house even if he didn't undo the spell.

"Nobody is being a housewife!" Arthur exclaimed, his cheeks turning red. "If you are going to be here, you are going to work." He was so lent for a moment. "And why would it make more sense for me to be the housewife?! I'm not a woman." He asked, offended by that.

"Fine, fine!" Francis exclaimed, lifting one hand up in a gesture of surrender. Arthur made his ears hurt with all this yelling. Someone needed to reteach him the meaning of inside voice. "I just meant that...well..." He twiddle his fingers together and he tried to find a polite way to explain the logic to his thoughts. Not finding one, he gave up. "Nevermind." It wouldn't work if the housewife couldn't cook anyway. Francis was wise enough not to say that though.

"No nevermind. Tell me what you were going to say." Arthur demanded. Not that he really cared for the reason. Not one bit. Ok.. He was a bit curious about what led Francis to the thought that he should be the housewife. Not that it was ever going to happen. He couldn't stand the thought of just sitting at home all day. That would get really boring very quickly.

"Hah? You can't make me say what I was thinking!" Francis snapped back. He stepped a little closer, like he might do something, but he felt his face turning red and that didn't help any aggressive thoughts he might be having. "It's just...I thought it would be really nice to have you as my wife! And then, in bed-!" He dropped his face into his hands, groaning at the thought of such a thing. Still with his face hidden he flailed one hand out as if to fend off Arthur or the thought of him. "I'm sorry!"

Arthur stepped back a bit when Francis moved closer to him. He felt his face burning at the Frenchman's words and he knew it would be a bright red. So he turned to look away from the other. "You should be sorry! How dare you insinuate such a thing! I am a gentleman! Not anybody's wife!" he exclaimed, embarrassed by the thought. Though there was a teeny tiny part of his mind that liked the idea. But he was easily able to ignore it.

"I did say sorry!" Francis whined. Arthur was always yelling at him. Why, why? He groaned again before he peeked out from between his fingers. Arthur also looked bright red and despite his own embarrassment and distress, he couldn't help but stare. Only one word came to mind--cute. He slipped forward and tilted Arthur's head to meet his eyes, a soft smile on his face. "Even if you're a gentleman, you're still perfect for me."

Arthur felt Francis lift his head and looked at him. Though he felt his face burn hotter at his words. "S-Shut up!" he stuttered, jerking his head back and moving back a few steps. Why did he have to keep saying such embarrassing things. "I'm going to go make some tea." he declared, quickly leaving the room. He hoped that the embarrassment would leave him while the tea was cooking.

He didn't think it possible, but Arthur turned even redder. Did he know he looked like a cartoon image? Francis chuckled and watched him leave before settling down on the couch again. "I'd like some too!" he yelled after before picking up the remote to flip through the channels without caring. It turned out that this was a good way to spend the day. He wished every day could be like it.

Luckily for Arthur, his face turned back to its normal color while he made tea. He took the cups in the other room on a tray and sat next to Francis. "Anything good on?" He asked, setting the tray down and picking up his cup, taking a sip.

Francis took his own cup as he shrugged. "Not so much. What time is it? Maybe I should go get dinner ready? Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" he asked. He sipped his tea with a nod of appreciation. It would give him something to do and he didn't think he was all that suited for sitting around all day.

Arthur checked that clock hanging on the wall. "It's almost 5:30." H stated, sipping his drink. "You don't need to make dinner. I can do that myself. And no, I don't have any plans, seeing as I no longer have a job to be going to." All he really planned to do the next day was go looking for jobs.

Francis jumped up from the couch, his eyes wide. "No! I insist that I make dinner! Or at least, call for take out. Yeah, that wouldn't be too bad...maybe." He chuckled a little with his nerves. But if Arthur's breakfast looked like charcoal, he didn't want to know what his dinner looked like. "We can talk about tomorrow later, but really, I insist on dinner!" With that, he dashed off for the kitchen before Arthur got it further in his head that he should cook anything.

Arthur glared at Francis while the Frenchman was insisting on cooking. How dare he imply there was something wrong with his food! He followed the other into the kitchen, still glaring. "There is nothing wrong with my food, frog. I've been cooking for myself for years and it hasn't killed me yet now has it."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with your food!" Francis countered. Implied maybe, but he didn't say anything outright. He made sure not to. "Maybe I just really enjoy cooking. I do, you know. I've only been in the kitchen once and I know it! Now please, leave the kitchen to me and dinner will be ready in say...an hour?" Even if Arthur's cooking didn't kill him, it might very well kill Francis.

Arthur glared at him for another moment. "Fine." he eventually agreed, turning and leaving the room. He went back to the den and sat on the couch. He sighed, bored already. He stood and retrieved some needlework things he had been working on and returned to his seat. He started that, instantly focused.

Francis worked intently until he'd thrown together a simple, but wondrously smelling dish. Even though Arthur just went to the store, he still found a few things missing, but he made do. When done, he popped his head out of the kitchen. "Dinner's ready! Come get it!" he sung. Then he went about serving it onto plates and setting them on the table.

Arthur had started to lose track of time by the time Francis had finished cooking. Though he could smell the food from where he was, the scent making his stomach growl. He set aside his things when he heard the Frenchman call for him and stood. Stretching as he walked, he headed into the kitchen. "So.. What did you make?" he asked.