lost ~completed~

chapter 22

Turns out Antonio had purchased a large cabin in a remote area in Italy for when he took Romano on get aways. He would not gave known about it had it not been for reading a journal he had tried to keep. He had only written for the duration of a month. Luck had graced them for once and he had written down the address of the cabin.

After their unfaithful meeting with Feliciano and Romano, Arthur had come to retrieve Francis from the hospital. While the Brit went into the hospital Yao had patched up Ivan's chest as best as he could. The wound was large but shallow so it hadn't endangered the big Russians life in any way.

They traveled to the cabin successfully without running into any trouble. Upon entering the cabin Matthew excused himself to make a phone call outside. Of course, no one noticed. Francis was too busy helping the others to notice the Canadian.

Francis glanced at the clock and noticed the time. His stomach growled and he blushed. He went over to Arthur and bent down so he could reach his ear.

"I'm going to make something to eat. Would you like me to make you something ?" Francis asked quietly.

Arthur looked up at him, his emerald eyes wide with concern, "A...are you sure? Are you feeling well enough ?" Arthur asked.

"Oui, I'm feeling well. I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Francis said smirking lightly.

"Are you sure? I can make you some food if you like." Arthur offered.

"No!" Francis quickly exclaimed. Arthur's eyes flashed with hurt before being masked by confusion. Francis immediately felt guilty. "I mean that you should rest."

"You need to rest more." Arthur pointed out.

"Then why don't you help me." Francis suggested with a smile. He silently hoped that the Brit would say yes. Even though the British man cooked horribly Francis enjoyed his company.

"Ok." Arthur said. His lips curled slightly upward in a smile. Francis smiled broadly, not even bothering to hide his happiness.

"Great! I'm sure we can make something good from the cans of food that Antonio said were in the cabinets!" Francis said.

The Frenchman and Englishman walked to the kitchen walking so close that their shoulders were touching. There weren't many cans of food but Francis quickly came up with a clever idea to make soup.

In less then an hour, Francis and Arthur were happily slurping up their soup. They sat on the small table diagonal from each other. They hardly spoke but no words were needed. Both men were comfortable in the silence. As Francis had once heard, "You know you've found a good friend when you don't feel the need to fill the silence."

Affection for the Brit was strong and growing stronger. The sight of the golden haired man made his heart beat hard against his chest, the little moments where their skin touched sent shivers through his entire body and when he smelled the familiar scent of tea on him, his nose seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Luckily, the Spaniard had some tea bags in the back of the pantry. Arthur had been able to make a cup of hot tea and was currently nursing his cup, deeply drinking in the warm scent.

The Frenchman smiled at Arthur but not his usual smile. He had realized that this tragedy had changed a lot of people. Arthur was quieter and mellower while Francis was calmer and wasn't being a flirt.

Francis didn't mind the new changes though he missed the way the Brit used to stiffen and gawk at the how rude the Frenchman was. He did however like how Arthur was starting to show more emotion. Before, Arthur would not be caught dead hugging anyone. Francis' was not a man who hugged often but he was the country of love and he loved to show affection (even though most countries saw his show of affection as a way to say 'Excuse me, do you want to screw ?').