Francis grabbed the nearest cooking utensil he could find; a wooden spoon, and flung it at the first guy that came through the now ruined door. The broad muscular man wasn't the only one who didn't approve of Francis' involvement in the fight. No, it was Arthur who shoved him behind his back, becoming his human shield.

And Francis hated every goddamn second of it.

He didn't like the fact that Arthur planned on taking the whole gang by himself. It was crazy. He was even at a physical disadvantage. What with being shorter and-

But boy did he know how to move. He was so fast that Francis hoped he had a camera so that later on he could watch it in slow motion just to be able to see what Arthur was doing at certain seconds in time. Maybe he could even make an equation for it, like Shrodinger's wave equation.

And Francis noticed that he was right in assuming that Arthur would be much more efficient and graceful when sober. The way he moved... he could only just hope that Arthur deemed Francis important enough to show a fraction of his passionate enthusiasm in bed.

Before Francis could let his protests about only Arthur fighting, the fight was over, with Arthur the victor. It was incredible how he didn't even have a scratch on himself now. He turned to the French boy with vulnerability written in his eyes, plain for anyone who wished to read and abuse it.

"You are wonderful. Brilliant."

"You should pack the stupid muffins or whatever they are."

Five minutes later they were standing outside of the flat, waiting for Sadiq to arrive in his car, this week it was a black Ferrari convertible. Sadiq's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he saw the 5 extra large suitcases littering the pavement. With one look at Arthur (who just rolled his eyes) he picked them up one by one as if they weighted next to nothing and silently begun fitting them into the boot. He could only fit in two, so the other three had to go on the back seat, next to Francis.

Arthur took the front passenger seat, next to Sadiq and both them immediately clipped on their seat belts. But Sadiq had yet to start the car. After a 5 minute silent wait, Francis had had enough.

"What are we waiting for?"

Arthur turned around slightly. "Wear your seat belt."

"If we get pulled over it would be bad enough what with having a convicted criminal that the police have been searching for the past 2 years and an assassin that has been in their radar for the past 7 years. Not to mention that I am underage and this car is stolen and that I already had a warning from police before. I can't afford to have someone in the car who isn't wearing a seat belt too."

Francis' jaw must have dropped at some point during the mini-speech because he vaguely remembered trying to relocate it. When he gathered his wits about, he quickly clasped his seat belt and finally Sadiq turned the key.

Two minutes into the ride, Sadiq slightly turned towards Arthur and asked, "Where to?"

"Werehouse 202."

"Are you sure?"

"It's the only one Liam doesn't know about."

"Cupcakes anyone?"

Sadiq ended up eating most of the cupcakes. Arthur refused to even lick the icing off Francis' fingers. It was waste of an effort all in all.

Not to mention a very very long car journey.

"How long until we get-"

"A while." Arthur said. "Make yourself comfortable."

2 minutes later.

"How long is a while?"

"We will be going to the Shoreham Airport in Brighton. Then we'll grab our fake IDs and Passports as well as our Credit Cards and take an aeroplane to Land's End. From there we'll take a skybus to Scilly Islands."

"But that's nowhere near France." Francis stated. "If you wanted to run off to an island why couldn't we go to Quessant? It's also in the Celtic sea."

"No. This is where we are going and that's it." Arthur sighed. "It's the safest place on Earth at this particular moment."

Francis was uncharacteristically silent for the rest of the journey. He didn't speak a word until they arrived in their designed destination some 10 hours later. Arthur felt guilty. How could he not? He would have preferred the endless questions instead of the silent treatment he was getting now.

But of course inside his mind, Francis was anything but silent. He was thinking of the consequences of his running away. He didn't think his parents would mind, but he needed to get a message to Gilbert and Antonio.

Well that had only taken about 5 minutes to resolve, the rest of the journey was spent on planning the awkward silences that awaited them and how best to avoid them.

Oh and the places they could have steamy sex in an island. Which happened to be a lot but Francis doubted that if Arthur was a fraction as horny as him, then they wouldn't be doing much travelling apart from to the loo to relieve their bladder.

And suddenly they were in front of a run down warehouse. Still Francis wouldn't say a word. Arthur wanted to shake that glazed look out of the taller blond's eyes but he was afraid that it would give Francis more reason to hate him.

And after all, who could blame Francis if he did hate Arthur.

Sure he had said he loved him but that was probably some random symptom of Stockholm syndrome seeing he had as good as kidnapped him and had taken him to an island near a place aptly named "Land's End"

What a honeymoon this was going to be.

He took out several keys from his pocket and begun unlocking the 7 sets of locks that he had insisted on having the shutter doors.

Inside was dusty and smelled old but he knew that the decor was modern enough... well at least there was electricity in there. Well, there was electricity in there when he first bought it.

The stairs were made of metal and made a clicky sound when you ran upstairs but they would still hold up for another decade at least. The only problem Arthur could think of was the fact that there was only one bed upstairs and little heating and no sofas and the kitchen sucked and he hoped that Francis wasn't allergic to dust and that the warehouse was right on the edge of a cliff and they would need the motorbike to travel into the centre of the-

"Please tell me you do have blankets in this place." Francis begged as he begun to shiver.

"Ummm... if you want to sleep then..."

"I am kind of hungry."

"I doubt you'd find anything to eat in-"

"That's why I packed everything. There should be some spaghetti in one of those suitcases and pans and cutlery in the other ones... Oh and lovely place by the way. We should clean it first thing tomorrow."

"Which suitcase did you say had the dusters?"

Dusters were in the third suitcase.

And Arthur didn't waste time whilst Francis took control of the kitchen. The water at first refused to come out of the rusty taps and when it finally did it was a murky brown colour and stunk like hell. But after waiting for it to clear up for nearly 15 minutes it was ready to be drunk.

Francis tried to light the cooker to no avail and finally screamed at it a few times and banged it around the space. To his credit it did work after the maltreatment it received.

30 minutes later both the spaghetti and the dusting were done. Francis noticed that Arthur looked absolutely exhausted and begun worrying for his health and when Arthur dozed off 10 minutes into his food, Francis also abandoned his mediocre-at-best meal and carried the English boy upstairs.

When he put Arthur on the rather dusty bed, Arthur opened his eyes.

"No... I... can sleep downstairs..." he murmured rubbing his eyes like a 3 year old toddler. Francis smiled at the gesture. Arthur was just so cute. He reminded him of unicorns... so pure and beautiful.

"I insist you sleep on the bed, I can sleep down-"

"No. Sleep with me?" He asked through slightly chattering teeth.

"Of course." Francis smiled brightly as if Christmas had arrived early. It probably had. He looked at Arthur's half-asleep form and thought of the ways he could ravish him in this state. But he couldn't, Arthur would surely karate kick him out of the bed the instant he tried. Instead, he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt, which made Arthur's cheeks colour a nice hue of red and then look of worry overcame his expression as he remembered the scars that littered his chest.

Francis was fascinated. He ghosted his fingers over a large fresh looking scar and smiled at Arthur. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Arthur said so quietly that he might have as well imagined it.

Then Francis ran his fingers over the dips of the muscles that adorned Arthur's stomach area. He was truly so so so painfully beautiful. Arthur blushed and looked away. Francis frowned.

"Don't be afraid, don't be embarrassed. You are just perfect the way you are."

Arthur shook his head, tears evident in his green eyes. Francis noticed his bandaged hands fisting themselves on the bed sheets. He cursed himself for getting aroused even at a time like this. He gulped his need down and tried to undo the button's of Arthur's jeans.

Arthur gasped when he felt Francis hand so impossibly close to there. The tears in his eyes turned to those of need and passion in a stray second and he cursed his body, hoping Francis would not notice the arousal that would erect itself any moment now.

But Francis did not notice. He was too busy being occupied by his own thoughts, trying not to think about the fact that he was undressing Arthur. That he would share a bed with his Arthur, that he would feel the wonderfulness that was Arthur so close to him. He groaned and commanded Arthur to lift his hips up.

Arthur numbly complied. Francis then nudged Arthur around so that he could get the blanket and the duvet over him, refusing to scare Arthur off by staring at his vulnerable form any more than necessary. He cursed the heavens... All he wanted to do now was to impale himself hard and deep into the wonder that was the shorter blond boy and make him come in his hand.

He felt dizzy. So intoxicated by the fact that his little Arthur was allowing him such luxury.

And then, just as fast, the moment was gone and Francis was taking his clothes off, piling them on top of each other.

Arthur had retracted into his shell once again, he was lying on his side in a foetal position, tears leaking out of his brilliant green eyes. So close to the edge, just about to fall down from the bed.

Francis got in to the bed and pulled Arthur's back into his chest, tangling their legs, one hand snaking around the English boy's waist and rested his chin on top of Arthur's head. It felt just so right... as if Arthur was made for him.

He hoped, Arthur liked being cuddled because he had no intention of allowing the shorter boy to get away from him.

He had Arthur in his clutches now.

Arthur woke up from the best sleep he had in his life. The fact that he had ever slept was a miracle. And the fact he hadn't woken up screaming credited to the fact that his dream must have been peaceful to some degree.

He kept his breathing even, not wanting to awaken Francis and slowly parted his eyes only to by assaulted by the heavenly image of his beloved. He must have turned around in his sleep during the night for now he was facing Francis, their bodies pressing against each other in a most intimate way, Francis' thigh resting in between his, Arthur nearly gasped when Francis moved so slightly that his thigh brushed against Arthur's morning erection. But even that stiffening of his thighs around Francis' was enough to wake up the French frog.

Francis had only few seconds to smirk before Arthur ran out of bed with the excuse of going out to town to get some food.



Do listen to "Forget it" by Breaking Benjamin.

Review please. :D