The FACE(S) family

Pregnant Arthur is not happy

"No, Francis!" Arthur yelled, stamping his foot. He pointed to the bay window of the nursary. "Put the rocking chair there!"

Francis swore under his breath, and pushed the oak wood chair near the window, feeling his palms sweat.

Arthur sighed, and put a hand on his growing stomach. "I'm so tired," he complained, "Francis, I'm knackered! Take me to bed."

The Frenchman looked at his pregnant lover, feeling his patience slowly snapping. He almost clenched his fists, but then remembered that Arthur was carrying his child, and hitting him would be the wrong thing to do.

"Take yourself, Arthur. I've got work to do. I don't think walking across the hall in ten steps in our room to the bed will be that straining." Francis swore under his breath as Arthur's face crumpled.

"Y-you're a bastard to me, Francis!" He wailed, pummeling him with his fists. "You have no idea what it's like, carrying twins! Why are you so horrible to me?" He began to sob, and Francis pulled a face.

"You're being silly, dear. I'm tired of comforting you, and trying to act nice. The fact is, I'm tired. I've had to work, care for you, paint this room seven times, rearrange furniture, force you to apologise to Feli for-"

"He said I looked fat!"

Francis sighed, "He said that he wasn't as big as that."

"Meaning I'm fat!"

"Meaning, Arthur, that he had one child, you are having two." Arthur pouted.

"Well, I am fat. Fat and ugly and my eyebrows are huge and my teeth are wonky and-"

Francis kissed him deeply. "Shut up, Arthur. Go and take a nap."

Arthur stalked away, sniffing.