FrUk Halloween Week

Voodoo Doll

"...And," Arthur stitched the "hair" onto the plush doll. "Done! Ha, Francis won't even know what's going to hit him. Now he'll know to not be so aggravating."
A smile creeped up onto the Brit's face as he tugged on the doll's leg. A shriek came from the living room.
"Arrrr-thurrrr!" Francis screamed. "Help! S'il vous plaît!"
"One second!" Arthur yelled, trying to ignore boyfriend's screaming. How obnoxious.
"Merci for your help." Francis said sarcastically as Arthur walked into the living room. "It must have been my imagination, but I could have sworn somebody -- or something had pulled my leg! Arthur, are you sure there are no ghosts here? Or--"
"We're fine, you idiot. You're just imagining things. How much wine did you drink today?"
"One glass. I believe. But--"
"Whatever. Say, what's on the telly?"
"You aren't listening, cher! You never ever listen, do you? What if we were in danger? What if--"
"Bloody hell, why are you so difficult? I told you, it's just--"
"It was not my imagination!"
"It was! Nothing could have hurt you! Idiot!"
Francis sighed, upset, and stormed into their bedroom. Why didn't his amie believe him? And why did he always have to yell? Sure, the Frenchman worried too much, but mostly for a good reason. And..
"What is this? A mini me?" Francis picked up the voodoo doll, touching the button eyes.
"Yow!" Francis howled, falling back and dropping the voodoo doll. He covered his eyes with his hand. "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce bordel?!" he screamed, trying to sit up. He picked it up and tugged on the hair, cringing when he felt the same tug.
"...Arthur made this...? Why?" he paused with a horrifying conclusion.
"He was planning to hurt me..." he whispered to himself, putting the plush onto the dresser and rolling into bed, tears stinging his eyes. "Does he not love me anymore? How long has he been planning this? Why? Wouldn't just ending it suffice?"
Instead of answers, he got sleep. When Francis woke up, the voodoo doll was gone.
"Arthur?" Francis groaned, hoping the past event was all just a mere dream.
"Arrthurr?" he repeated, standing up and slipping on some fuzzy bunny slippers. Francis yawned and stretched. Glad the voodoo doll fiasco was "just a dream", he walked into the hallway. "Arthur, cher, are you here?"
Arthur mumbled something under his breath in his "magic merde" room. "Arthur?" Francis opened the door, causing Arthur to throw the voodoo doll behind him to prevent Francis from seeing it. In the same fashion, Francis' arms flailed and he fell back, yelling in the process.
"F-Francis! Are you okay?!"
Francis groaned, since he had hit his head on the wall. Arthur hurried towards the Frenchman and moved his bothersome hair -- very soft, by the way -- out of the way in order to check to make sure he had not injured himself or bled all over the tile.
"I'm such a blooming twit, aren't I?! Francis, I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry--"
Tears stung Francis' eyes. He stared up at his lover who'd held him closer since he'd fell.
"You--"
"I what? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"
"You wanted to hurt me."
"Wh--"
Francis tried to sit up, but groaned and lay back down. The pain was unbearable and so was his emotional pain. It had not been a dream.
Arthur wanted to hurt him.

After a few minutes of Francis sniffling and whining about Arthur attempting to hurt him, Arthur came to the correct conclusion.
"No-- No, Francis, it wasn't like that. I mean-- I may have tried before, but now I take it back! I-- I didn't mean it-- please.."
Francis crossed his arms, desperately wishing he could just storm off.
"Liar. Liar! You tried to hurt me and you know it very well."
"No! It wasn't like that-- I--"
"Oh, stop with your excuses! You're always starting petty arguments and making this relationship worse than it should be! And if you'd just listen for five seconds--"
"Maybe if you'd listen! Maybe if you'd listen you'd be able to know that I don't mean it like that!"
"Exactly what I mean! All you do is pay attention and listen to the negative! You did not bother to listen to any of what I said, am I correct?! You just interrupted me while I was trying to--"
Arthur groaned, and sighed.
"Look, I don't really care about that right now.. Are you in fact hurt?"
A silence followed Arthur's question, the Frenchman twiddling his fingers.
"It's sore. But I don't feel energized enough to stand or walk."
"...Fair enough. I did throw the doll pretty hard." Arthur stood up.
"...where are you going?"
"To get rid of the doll."
"Non! Non! Please don't--"
"Relax, I'm just going to put it in a safe spot where nothing can touch it."
Francis sighed, relieved, as Arthur walked into the magic merde room. He picked up the voodoo doll, kissed it's cheek and put it in an empty drawer and locked it. It couldn't get crushed, it couldn't get placed into the wrong hands. Francis would be fine.
As if he were a child, Arthur attempted to pick up Francis and carry him to bed -- which ended up being lugging him with a lot of painful groaning from Francis.
For the rest of the night, they cuddled watching Disney movies -- Arthur somewhat suspecting Francis to be faking the pain for some form of a romantic night.
"..hey, Francis?" Arthur looked up from the movie.
"Oui?"
"...I'm sorry."
"Je suis désolé as well."
"You didn't deserve that. And I'm sorry for yelling at you, and plain being a twit about all this."
"All is well, my amie."
Arthur smiled slightly. "If you say so..."
"I do say so."
Francis smiled and kissed Arthur, as their own happy ending came up as if they had their own Disney movie.