Delightful Company~ Author!EnglandxReader 3.

After arriving at Francis's town-house, _____ was taken aback by what she saw. Every wall, every surface was strung with lanterns, the shining objects suspended at random intervals along the gravel drive-way; the prim expanse seemingly glowing shades of amber, gold and vibrant orange. The individual little lights seemed to permeate the inpenetrable blackness seeping through the London streets, Arthur almost completlely undetectable as he strolled along dusting down his ebony suit. The radient glow seemed to make his eyes appear several shades brighter, the neon orbs almost inhuman and his skin pale and waxy in the moonlight- _____ couldn't help but think she was incredibly lucky encountering such a clever, enigmatic, enchanting young man.
"_____?" He said softly, melodic voice low in comparison to the music drifting out through an open window "Are you ok?" A look of concern flitted across his countenance.
"Yes...It's just the first time I've ever been to something like this."
"You don't need to worry about it, everyone's bound to enjoy your company; I know I do."
And with that, Arthur knocked abruptly on the door. Both members of the couple could hear sharp, quick footsteps across a wooden floor and eventually it swung open with a gentle click. "Ah, Arthur~" The man at the door laughed, ice-blue eyes twinkling in merriment "What a lovely suprise~"
"Good evening, Francis."
"Might I ask who this beautiful young woman is? It's not like you to bring company!" With a charismatic grin he took _____'s hand, placing his lips softly on it. It was the first time the young lady had ever seen her usually calm companion scowl, and the gaze was venemous as he inched slightly closer. She ignored the blush on her face, from both the kiss and Arthur's protectiveness.
"This is _____ _____, an aquaintance of mine." Arthur began. Unbeknownst to him, his minty breath had ghosted over the back of his companions neck, and she felt shivers run involuntary down her spine. The whole atmosphere was magical enough already, and the proximity between her and Arthur seemed unreal. Everything suddenly felt considerably hotter too...
"I-It's a pleasure." _____ stammered, then feeling an arm snake around her waist and guide her gently into the hall way.
"Don't let Francis put you off..." The author murmured "He's just a bit of a 'ladies man' as it were, just ignore him if he harrasses you in any way."
The moment was then shattered as they made their way in amongst the throng of people, Francis sauntering along through the crowd in front of them. The music was louder inside, and she could barely hear herself think.

The interior of the town-house was considerably pleasant, everything stream-lined and modern. The walls were a rich burgundy, the colour of wine, and were embossed with shimmering black flowers. The whole place was like a show-home to tell the truth, everything in its place from the fluffy black cushions on the white sofa to the framed illustrations of Paris on the wall above the flat-screen television. All kinds of people perched on leather bar-stools, conversing animatedly with drinks in hand. There was even a wrought iron balcony outside some double doors, some individuals looking out at the glowing scenery and the London Eye as it slowly rotated through the night. "Is Francis your publisher?" _____ asked Arthur, eyes falling on several copies of the young man's books stacked on a book-shelf. Francis was either of that particular occupation, or Arthur's biggest fan. "Yes...I'm suprised he's got this all arranged so perfectly in time though." He remarked, taking in each polished surface in the sumptuously decorated room. "Why?"
"I was here yesterday and there were plans for merchandise and all sorts littered about the place. He's trying to convince me into some popularity scheme because he wants the books to become more well known, and he wants more money. He keeps insisting on book signings every week and being nominated for all kinds of tacky awards that don't even mean anything...Gosh, I even think he mentioned things about a movie!" Arthur explained, slightly exasperated.
"The books are popular already, though, aren't they? I've seen all the reviews and they're almost always sold out!"
"That's not enough for him..." Arthur shook his head "His excuse is that he always wants the best for me, but I don't think I'm up for it. I can't decide whether fame is what I want or not...power corrupts, as you've perhaps heared." He glanced at the floor "I've got everything that I need, and as long as I'm doing what I love then I'm content. I don't need all the grandeur and the riches!" His expression softened, and he smiled apologetically at _____ "Anyway, how about we enjoy ourselves instead of contemplating my future, eh?"
"Oh...ok!"
"Would you like a drink? I'll go get you one."
"Lemonade, please."
"I think I'll have the same. You don't want to hear about the last time I had alcohol!" Arthur's airy laugh, like tinkling bells resonated around the room as he grinned and began to wind his way between the dancing bodies. _____ felt as if she were witnessing a different side to him, and it clearly seemed like Arthur was trying to be someone he wasn't. He almost seemed intimidated, in a way. She missed him being himself, and hoped he'd relax and return to normal once he'd stopped being so tense about the party and the company.

"Hey, you alright?" _____ turned around, eyes falling on a tall, blonde young man. His cobalt eyes shone with enthusiasm, his muscular form clad in a skin-tight navy blue suit. His tie was undone and he was nursing a can of Coke, whereas everyone else had champagne in fluted glasses. He seemed incredibly relaxed, and his happiness was infectious "Yes, I'm fine."
A broad, calloused hand was extended towards her "I'm Alfred, Alfred F Jones~" The girl shook his hand, unable to stop herself from smiling. He seemed to radiate charisma and charm as he chattered companionably to her in his southern drawl.
"Wait, you're here with Artie, aren't you?" _____ assumed 'Artie' was Arthur.
"Yes, we're good friends."
"Yeah, he's a great guy when you get to know him. I've known him for a few years now, he wrote an article for a magazine I was in when he visited  Manhattan once."
"Really? What sort of job do you do?"
"I'm a model. I mainly work in New York and stuff like that, but I like visiting this place now and again. One of my photographers has a house around here too."
"Oh, I didn't realise! I'm nothing special myself, and everyone here does seem rather important..."
"Hey, don't worry about it!" Alfred placed a reassuring hand on the young girl's shoulder "You're the only person Arthur's ever brought to one of these things, so you're pretty special yourself!" The American laughed "He's a bit of a loner normally!"
"_____, I've got your dri-" Arthur had appeared, but then cast a warning glance in Alfred's direction "Oh, good evening. I assume the two of you have already been introduced to one-another."
"Yeah!" The taller blonde replied, _____ taking her drink and sipping it slowly. "I never knew ya had a girl-friend, though!" Arthur seemed to splutter on his own drink for a moment, glowing pink "W-We're not! No, Alfred! Y-You idiot!"
"Oh, sorry man! Didn't mean to upset you!"
"You didn't...just, don't make inappropriate comments."
"Sure. How's the new book going anyway?"
"It's a work in progress at the moment." Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, delicately trying to avoid the subject again.
"Aw, I was looking forward to hearing about it. It's about time you got some inspiration!" Alfred was an unconcentrated blur of enthusiasm as he spoke with Arthur, and despite appearing slightly clumsy and absent-minded he seemed like a geuninely nice person; Arthur, however, seemed afraid to let down his guard even when in the company of his long-term friend.
"I do have inspiration Alfred..." He murmured softly, gaze falling on _____ "I can assure you I do..."

Later that night, the party began to become far more relaxed. A gentleman named Rodereich, apparently a world-renowned musician was playing at a grand piano in the dining room and everyone was beginning to eat some of the beautifully crafted petit fours and cakes provided by Matthew, who also appeared to be Alfred's younger brother. _____ began to sink her teeth into a layer of incredibly sweet icing, also enjoying the delicacies. There was the reassuring warmth of Arthur beside her, but he was more occupied in considerably half-hearted banter with Alfred and Francis (who honestly seemed to be more interesting in teasing him). Arthur didn't seem to reply with much conviction, unimpressed with everything the duo said to him. He even confessed to wanting to just go home and relax, reminscing about his Earl Grey and awaiting writing. His sentence drifted into nothingness, the Englishman drawing out a pleasured hum as he too bit into some of Matthew's food. Moving in a quiet shift and swirl of champagne-coloured skirts, _____ perched on one of the black leather stools and began to look out the window. It was a great party, yes, but it was unfamiliar. The young lady didn't even know what time it was, taken aback when she realised that four hours had already passed. They had done so in a blur of sugar and saccharine compliments, and ______ could realise exactly why Arthur preferred his solitude and his own company.
Said Englishman finished a witty retort, interjecting it into the conversation, before turning towards ______ and loosening his tie as he hauled himself into the seat beside her. "Are you enjoying yourself? I saw you speaking to those two Italians, the actors..." The young girl seemed to be lost in her thoughts "_____?" His eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."
"It's perfectly fine, you look tired too, you poor thing." She felt a slender arm wrap around her shoulders "I can take you home if you're not comfortable."
"I'm ok, it's just a very different way for me to spend my Saturday nights." She smiled "Though I do love spending more time with you."
"As do I..."
The two were alone again, Alfred speaking to his timid brother and Francis to one of his friends. Orchestral swirls drifted through the fragrant air, and Arthur tentatively extended a hand towards ______.
"W-Would you like to dance?"
______'s eyes widened and she blushed "Of course!"

The two began to head through another doorway, and into the space reserved for dancing. Arthur's laugh, smile and formerly inhibited expression now unrestrained and care-free. He seemed to be behaving as he usually did, his warm hands a comfort and his eyes alight with silent happiness. It felt so right being in Arthur's arms, _____ remarked to herself, inhaling the scent of Earl Grey, ink, old books and his after-shave. She forgot to admit that she couldn't actually dance, almost stumbling as their feet began to glide across the wooden floor. One of the french-doors were open, a slightly bitter wind making the chiffon curtains swirl through the air.
Arthur focused his eyes on _____'s face, inhaling and exhaling softly as he lost himself in the music. The young lady in his arms looked up at the frescoed ceiling of the conservatory-like space, her own eyes then regarding her partners. Nobody seemed to exist at that moment, the whole entire world suddenly ceasing to exist. The lanterns were still alight, and the entire space was warm and homely. As Arthur looked up for a moment, he realised that Francis was watching him (perhaps along with Alfred and several others of the party too). The Englishman simply flushed pink and strategically steered himself and ______ out of the firing line of his publishers knowing gaze. As far as he knew, Francis had probably figured him out; didn't he always say about France being the country of love? After all, he and the Frenchman had known eachother for years, and there weren't any particular idiosyncrasies that they didn't recognize when in eachother's company. Indeed, Mr Bonnefoy hadn't seen such a poignant expression of love and affection on Arthur's face before.
"Do you think we should get some fresh air?" The British man said under his breath, his dance partner nodding.
"Maybe there'll be less people."
The young man's hand drifted to the small of _____'s back, the two strolling leisurely on to the balcony and shivering from the air hitting their exposed skin. "Are you cold?" Arthur said, slightly concerned. He had been the whole night, not only because he wanted to impress _____ but because she'd seemed awfully different all evening.
"A-A little, yes." Slightly startled at a sudden weight on her shoulders, then looking up, _____ realised that Arthur had draped his velvet jacket around her. He also stooped forwards and rested his head on her shoulder, arms circling her waist. "Is that better?"
"Very much so..." The young lady paused "...Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"I'm a little tired, too."
"Really? Shall I take you home?"
"Thank you."
"Or...well, how about you come around to my house? It's closer to here than yours and if you're tired a long journey isn't suitable-"
"O-Ok, I'll just go and say goodbye to Alfred and Francis..."

______ found herself loving Arthur's home, bleary eyes widening in awe at the quaint little building. It was nestled inbetween two considerably normal looking three-story houses, his was three floors too, but it was concealed by abundant growths of rose-bushes and ivy winding over a wrought-iron fence and gate. It seemed considerably gothic from outside, but when she was led into the living-room it was the most homely little place she'd ever been in. There was a large fire-place, a slightly scratched Chesterfield and maps and photos and paintings suspended on the walls. There were even intricately carved ceiling roses, and _____ also caught a glimpse of a moss-green aga through a door to the kitchen that was thrown ajar. After a while, and a cup of tea, Arthur showed her to one of the bedrooms. "Do you want me to find you something comfier to wear than your pretty dress?"
"Thanks, Arthur."
"Alright then, after that I'll go back down-stairs and-"
"You're sleeping on the sofa? Aren't there any more bedrooms?"
"I use them for other things, and since this place is considerably old there isn't any keys for some of the doors."
"But still, you can't sleep down there!"
"Why not?"
"W-Well, I feel like I'm intruding..."
"You're not...To be honest, you're welcome here any time. Also, I fall asleep at my desk almost every day anyway..."
"Ok...I'll still feel bad about it, but sleep well."
"You too, love. Thanks for making my night brilliant, I would have been lonely without you." Arthur smiled fondly, butterflies drifting through his stomach and his heart pounding. Why did he feel like this? He'd felt like it when he was dancing, when he and _____ had been close and when their skin had brushed. Somehow the girl seemed utterly irresistable, sitting there with those adoring ____ eyes and slightly parted coral lips.
"And you made my Saturday night much more interesting." She added. The Englishman realised he hadn't been listening.
"I-I guess we're both fine then~" He replied, trying to disguise the way his voice was threatening to tremble.
Was this what being in love felt like? It had to be.
After handing a baggy white shirt and a chestnut-brown cardigan to ______, Arthur began to make his way down the stairs and past the closed bedroom door. Secretly he wished he could have stayed in the same room as his companion, but he was so uncertain of what to feel that he had to tear himself away. He'd never loved anyone before, had been scared that nobody could love him for being himself. However, this girl seemed to appreciate him in a way nobody else could, not exploiting him or his talents and just...being there for him. It was a foreign thing, and the writer found himself awake most of the night simply thinking about it.
Thinking about her.