First chapter is up! Review (please please please please) and I will most definetely continue!

First story here and first shounen-ai written :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Hetalia =P

Pairing: Mainly ArthurxAlfred, though there's some RoderichxElizaveta, TinoxBerwald, and LudwigxFeliciano

Warning: Contains references to adult themes and cursing.

Slapper- british for tramp.

Rubbish bin- trash can

Plonker- idiot

**Thank you, Pieces of Sky, for the corrections :)

Chapter 1- Garçon Américain

When I was a little kid, I used to love reading fantasy stories. You know, the ones where there's a beautiful princess, an evil witch, a horrible monster, and, of course, the noble prince.

Back then, my house was a real mess. My three older brothers were always getting all the attention from my parents, wheather it was for their excellent grades or for their terrible attitudes. They barely had time to pay attention to a brat like me, especially after the baby, Peter, was born.

Since no one else had the time to read stories to me, I had to learn to read at an early age in order to enjoy them. I used to read them every night, by myself, while my brothers and my parents were all sleeping. I remember dreaming of one day saving a princess who would become my wife, and we'd live happily ever after.

Of course, I was a kid back then, and I had no idea that love could be so crazy.

"Ah, Arthur~! Mon ami~!"

A voice called from far away behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who the guy that was calling me was. I always met him on the way to school, I was actually already expecting his french arse to appear.

I didn't stop walking, nor did I turn around to greet him. Not because I'm rude, but because I didn't feel like it.

"How hard is it for you to wait a little?" The taller blond guy asked once he finally got next to me. I sent him a smart-ass smile as an answer, but then I turned to look ahead and my serious expression returned. "...Are you alright, cher?"

"Why? I'm fine, Francis." I replied, trying to smile again.

He raised his eyebrows, obviously not buying it. "Mon cher, please. Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Damn it, I hate that Francis can read people so well. Freaking frog.

I let out a tired sigh. It's not like I could fool him when it came down to anything related to emotions (or perverted stuff). So I decided to let the frog know why I was trully concerned, though I knew I was gonna regret it later. "I just don't feel like going to school."

Francis laughed, to my surprise. I growled. I knew I was gonna regret it.

"Oh, Arthur! Don't be so down! We're going to have a lot of fun this year! We're almost over with school! That's magnifique!"

Magnifique for him. Since I entered this school (last year, tenth grade), Francis had always been popular. Both with girls as much as with guys. He looks, and I'm quoting a couple of girls, like an "angel". Well, it's true Francis is quite handsome with his long blond hair and his blue eyes, but I still wouldn't describe him as an "angel". In my opinion, he's more like a good-looking man-whore. ...What? That's what he is. Even he accepts it.

Francis kept talking and talking and talking about what he was going to do as soon as we got to school. In the meantime, I acted like I was listening. But I wasn't. I was too preocupied with something else.

And what might that 'something else' be? I didn't know it myself.

It was a feeling that sort of made me want to puke. ...Perhaps I shouldn't have let Gareth make breakfast for me, even if he insisted. Anyway, I doubt it was Gareth's fault, though, because I had been feeling like this for a while now.

I felt too tired to get up every morning, too tired to study, too tired to smile at everyone like I promised myself I would. There was just no reason to do it. What difference would it make if I smiled at someone in the street? They wouldn't care, they had their own problems to worry about. ...Oh, shut up, I'm not depressed!

...Well, perhaps just a little. But my magnificent self wouldn't admit it out loud. Ever.

As soon as we got to school we went to check which our homeroom would be. It was pretty early, so barely any student was around. After checking, Francis and I had to part ways. I went upstairs and walked through the empty hallways until I found my homeroom. I wasn't surprised to see that the room was not open, the teacher was probably at the teacher's room, getting a cup of coffee to be prepared to handle a bunch of eleventh graders. I sat down in a bench outside the classroom and took a book out of my bag. I had a good amount of time to continue the fascinating story of Dorian Gray.

Actually, I couldn't even get past the first paragraph of Chapter II. Some git tapped my shoulder rather aggressively, disrupting my peace and quiet. Just to make sure the person understood how utterly annoying he was being, I turned to see him with a prominent scowl on my face.

Turns out it wasn't a he, it was a she. And it wasn't just any she, it was Elizaveta. Instantly, my scowl was replaced with a smile.

However, Elizaveta hadn't missed the prominent scowl. "Oh, I'm sorry, Arthur! I shouldn't have interrupted you!"

"No, no, it's alright, Elizaveta." I moved to the side and gestured her to sit down. "Do take a sit. How was your summer? I heard you and Roderich visited each other quite oftenly."

"W-well...y-yeah, you could say that." She blushed deeply and fiddled with the gray skirt from her uniform. "H-how about you, Arhur? Did you have fun?"

"Oh, summer was alright. I got a job." ...Yes, I did get a job. ...About two weeks later I got fired for having a fight with one of the costumers.

"That's cool! Are you saving money for that thing you wanted so badly?"

"Yeah, I've got a little more than half of the money already." It had taken me a long time to get the money, mind you, reader.

We kept talking about the summer. Well, actually, I encouraged her to keep talking about the summer. I didn't really want to share my summer with anyone, it was too boring. All through the talk, I had to fake a smile and laughter.

It's not that I don't like Elizaveta, oh no. She's one of the few persons in this school that I actually get along with well enough to call her a friend. I just didn't want her to think there was something wrong with me. She tends to worry too much over her friends and I didn't want to keep her from having a fantastic day today.

After about fifteen minutes, more and more students starting getting to the school. The hallways were now bustling with tons of kids from seventh to twelvth grade, all of them either really exited or really pissed about starting a new school year. Finally, our homeroom teacher arrived and opened the door to the classroom.

I knew some of my classmates already.

There was Lovino Vargas, an italian kid with a younger twin brother in the same grade, but in a different classroom. Lovino...well, he is aggressive. I think that's a good word to describe him. He is also quite overprotective of his brother, Feliciano, even if Lovino keeps complaining about him.

Tino Väinämöinen was seating peacefully in one of the desks, saying goodbye to his close Swedish friend, who is a year older than us. The kid, Tino, is very nice and easy to get along with. On the other hand, Berwald Oxenstierna, the Swede, is...well, he is rather frightening if you ask me. BUT, if you ask Peter, my younger brother, Berwald is really cool and fun to hang out with. Yes, I think you should know this: Berwald is Peter's babysitter. He's the only person in the whole city that would offer himself to look after Peter. He's tough stuff, and I really respect the guy.

...Was that...Feliks? Oh God...Feliks. That guy is a whole case. He is strong and kind of smart, but he is so lazy and carefree it is almost ridiculous! I will never know how it is possible for him to be in eleventh grade!

Right next to Feliks were two girls that I didn't recognize, along with Toris Loraitis. As far as I know, Toris is a quiet guy that follows Feliks around, even though Feliks acts like a selfish jerk sometimes. Tino, on the other hand, once said that Toris is quite strong and intelligent. I wouldn't know, I've never really met the guy.

A couple of Elizaveta's female friends arrived later. Although I didn't quite know them as much as other people did, I knew that one of them was from America and the other one was from Hungary, like Elizaveta.

A group of three guys and two girls soon joined our conversation. Now, I had no idea of who any of them were. I'd seen them around the hallways last year, but I really didn't know them. So, as the gentleman I am, I introduced myself politely as Arthur Kirkland. One of the guys and the girls that arrived complimented my accent.

Then there was Elizaveta, plus me, this made 15 students. Quite a small class, but it was normal for a private school.

The bell rang, making us all sit down in the wooden desks aligned in rows and columns. The teacher, who had been outside talking with another teacher, walked inside, holding a steaming cup of something (probably coffee, since no one in this place drinks tea except for a few of us) with one hand and a black portfolio with the other one. He placed the portfolio on top of his gray desk and took a silent sip from his beverage before placing down the cup next to the portfolio.

"Good morning, students. First of all, let me make sure all of you are here and aren't late today." He greeted in a rather cheerful voice. The guy was quite young, actually. I'd say he was in his late 20's or early 30's. According to his list, one of our classmates was missing, so we were actually going to be 16, not 15. After taking attendance, he took out a stack of papers from his portfolio. "I'm your homeroom teacher, and I'll also be teaching English to you. My name is Edward Thomas, you can call me Mr. T or Mr. Thomas."

Ah English...my favorite subject by far. So easy, yet so hard at the same time. Fantastic way to start the day, I say.

"Let me hand out my rules and expectations. Anyone wants to volun—?" A set of knocks interrupted the teacher. "Hmm?" Mr. Thomas walked towards the door curiously.

"Sorry for being late, sir." The voice of a boy answered as soon as the teacher opened the door. "I'm new at this school. I helped my brother find his classroom, but later I couldn't find mine. Can I still come in?"

"Why, certainly." The teacher moved to the side and let the boy slip into the room. "I'm betting you're Mr. Jones?"

"Yes, I'm Alfred F. Jones." He answered with a wide grin in his face.

"Nice to meet you, Alfred, I'm your English teacher, Mr. Thomas. Why don't you help me hand out these?" Mr. Thomas gave Alfred the pieces of paper. While he was handing them out, the teacher turned to us and began to explain.

Anyway, I'm betting most of you won't be familiar with how my school works. It's realtively simple, actually.

First, we have our classmates. Unlike many other schools that make their students switch classmates everytime they switch a subject, we stay this way for the whole year. Well, unless you change your schedule and your classroom. The only time our classmates are sepparated from each other are during recess and during electives. ...And at the end of the day, obviously. In other words, I'll be in the same classroom as Elizaveta, Tino, Feliks, Lovino, Toris, and that-other-bunch-of-people-that-I-know-nothing-about from the first to the last period. Everyday.

Then, we have the basic schedule for all eleventh (and twelvth) graders:

1st Period & HR - 7:45 – 8:33

2nd Period - 8:38 – 9:26

BREAK - 9:26 - 9:36

3rd Period - 9:40 – 10:28

4th Period - 10:33 – 11:21

5th Period - 11:26 – 12:14

Lunch-12:14 – 12:49

6th Period - 12:54 - 1:42

7th Period - 1:47 - 2:35

This was the drill for a whole two weeks. Yes, reader, I just skipped the first 2 weeks of my new year at school. What are you going to do to me? ... ... ...Please refrain yourself from voicing out those dirty thoughts. Anyway, you don't want to know what happened because it's boring and it's not what you are looking forward to. The interesting things began to happen to me later.

Monday morning of the third week started out quite boringly, actually. In case you are wondering (and I'm sure you are), I hadn't spoken to anyone outside of my usual friendly circle in the classroom, which included only Elizaveta and sometimes Tino. However, I have to admit that I did glance a couple of times towards that new american student. Okay, so maybe I found myself staring at him for almost entire periods, so what? He wasn't bad looking, and it's not a crime to stare!

Many girls in the classroom flirted with him (though I could tell he had no idea that they were flirting with him even though they did many...suggestive things in front of him. He's that bright.). Well, he was handsome, of course. He wasn't just any random teenager. Messy blond hair colored in dirty blond, with one (cute) strand sticking up; charming ocean-blue eyes covered by square glasses; andsoft-looking white skin. That's Alfred F. Jones, just so you know. Sounds really good, hmm? He was always grinning, always smiling and laughing... It was a whole experience to just look at him. His perfect teeth, skin, hair, eyes made his loudness bearable.

Umm...Just because I said that he is good-looking doesn't mean that I like him. Though he actually did make the strange feeling inside me go away. The one that kept me from wanting to go to school. Everytime I'd wake up my mind would race into thoughts about him. It was nice to feel happier now, though I would never in my whole life accept it.

Ever.

Sometime during the first period I stopped paying attention to Mr. Thomas, mainly because one of the girls (whose name I didn't know, mind you) handed me a fucsia post-it that was folded until it was tiny.

A note, how cute.

Not even glancing at its contents, I put it away in my pocket because it would be rude to just throw it to the rubbish bin (though it was what I really wanted to do). Maybe I'd take a look at it later. ...Probably not.

Of course the giggly girl who had written the note practically jumped onto my desk as soon as the bell rang. "So, what do you think?" She asked, leaning closer to me in a suggestive position and pressing her arms closer in order to...well, I'm sure most of you know what part of her body she wanted me to notice.

"About what?" I asked in an emotionless tone as I put my books away.

"Oh, you know." She pushed my shoulder with one of her hands as if she were teasing me.

"...Trully, I have no idea what you are talking about." I answered, faking a curious tone of voice.

She apparently bought it, because she answered: "The note, silly!"

I mentally rolled my eyes at her. "Ah, the note. Yes, the note." I stood up, dusting my outfit. "I haven't read it yet. I'll read it when I have time. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I began to walk away, not turning back to see the expression in her face (the main reason was because I'd probably laugh so hard it would ruin the 'in your face, bitch' mood I set).

When I was just a few steps away from the door, she grabbed my hand and turned me around. Her expression was scary to me, though I'm sure many people who are into girls would rather say it was 'naughty'.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur..." She shook her head with a creepy smile in her face. "Nobody rejects me. I'm sure you'll think it over, right? About what the note said, I mean."

"Uh...sure." I tried to smile at her, but it came out more like a 'get the bloody hell away from me, bitch' type of expression. "Would you mind letting go of my hand?" I asked, beginning to tug my hand away from her grasp. It had the oppposite effect, to my disdain. She actually tightened her grip and leaned closer to me.

"Oh, Arthur, I'm gonna have so much fun with you this year." She was so close I could feel her breath in my neck and her breasts touching my chest. She trailed her hand down my chest (in an annoying way, just so you know). "Would you like to know what kinds of things I'm planning for us?"

"Please, don't spoil it for me." I mumbled uninterested. "Would you let go of my hand? I write with that one. It would be rather troublesome for me to learn how to right with my other hand in," I looked at my watch, "three minutes if you happen to tear it away. Thank you." And with that, I left.

I'm going to make a very rude assumption that all my readers are straight, though I'm sure not all of you are.

If you're a guy, you're probably smashing your head numerous times against the wall and calling me something along the lines of: "THAT MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE JUST IGNORED A HOT CHICK WHO WAS ASKING HIM TO PRETTY MUCH HAVE SEX WITH HER IN FRONT OF THE TEACHER!"

On the other hand, if you're a girl, you're probably grinning maniacally and nodding proudly, thinking that a gentleman like me shouldn't ever give a scoundrel like her the privilege of touching past the limits of decency. Probably the words "Easy-whore" or "bitch" slipped out of your mouth and you didn't even notice until your mother/father/sibling/grandma/grandpa/neighbor/pet yelled at you for being so rude.

Here's the deal, wheather you are expecting it or not (...you probably are): I'm not as interested in girls as much as the guys in my classroom are. Excluding Feliks, and maybe (ahem, probably, ahem) Tino. I just wanted to get that straight. No pun intended.

Once I got to my second period, I dozed off. It was just History class, and we were studying about Henry VIII. I'm from England, how would I not know that subject?

The class had been going quite slowly. The teacher was saying something about a project, I could always ask someone to explain it to me again, so this time I went completely blank and began to wonder what we would have for dinner tonight. Well, at least until I heard someone calling my name.

"Arhtur Kirkland and..." The teacher examined the classroom closely, "and Heather Williams."

...Who the hell was Heather Williams? I turned around the classroom, trying to find the bearer of that name. To my utter dismay, I was greeted by the face of the girl who had given me the post-it, winking at me and licking her lips.

I'm not kidding.

In a few seconds I was silently begging the Lord to please let that be a list stating which persons are not allowed to be partners during a project or interact with each other through the whole year.

But apparently, He was not listening to me.

"Alright, let's choose the next partners for this project..." She scanned the room again.

For a while, the teacher kept assigning partners. Her attention (as well as the Lord's) was completely away from me and my silent pleads for her to change my partner to someone less dangerous. Like a rabid polar bear, Vlad the Impaler, Rasputin, or Jack the Ripper, or maybe even a mixture of the four.

She frowned suddenly. Maybe she actually recieved the pleads and thought my inside joke wasn't funny.

"Alfred F Jones and..." The frown returned. "Let's see, who should you be with, Mr. Jones?" She scanned the room again. "Oh! Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland."

Heather's face twisted into a combination between anger, a rabid polar bear, and Vlad the Impaler. Hmm...strange.

"Is something wrong, Miss Williams?" She asked, acting as if she was completely oblivious to the similarity between Heather's expression and Vlad.

"You said Arthur and I would be in the same team, Ms. Sophie." Wow, was she a good actress. She faked that sweet voice so well I wouldn't even think she was extremely pissed off unless I knew her.

"Yes, but I believe Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Jones will do a better job as a team."

"How can you know that, Ms?" Her voice had become less sweet than a while ago. I could tell now she was angry. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that you know them well enough to make a decision based on that."

No one. Said. A word.

We were all expecting the teacher to give some sort of punishment to Heather because of what she said and the rude way it sounded. But no. In fact, Ms. Sophie let out a really charming laughter that looked good on her because of her pretty feminine features, "Oh, Miss Williams, you are quite funny. What do you think, boys? Do you think you'll do a good job together?" She was now turning at both Alfred and I, her face was as bright as sunshine.

"Of course we'll do a good job, Ms. Sophie." I answered immediately before anyone dared to pair Heather and me again. "Isn't that right, Alfred?"

"Definetely!" He answered with the enthusiasm of a kid that was getting a new toy. ...Wow, now that had double sense.

"You see, Ms. Williams? Even they agree with me. I believe Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Jones know themselves well enough to assume that. Now, on with the lesson!" She turned around and began writing on the board. "Who can tell me the names of the wives of Henry VIII?"

The teacher of the fifth period was kind enough to give us free time for the remaining 15 minutes since we had managed to get done with the lesson of that day earlier. Just fifteen minutes more and we'd be free to have our lunch break.

"Hey!" I shot my head up once I heard someone's voice calling. It was that kid, Alfred F. Jones. "Wow, dude, were you lost in the book? I've been calling you a few times now."

I raised an eyebrow. ...Dude? Did he really just call me that? "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Someone told me you were british!" He answered goofily.

What? Seriously, interrupting my reading of Oscar Wilde just for that? "...No way, really?" I faked a surprised voice. "Let me write that down so I don't forget!" ...Don't give me that look, I was mad at him for asking such a stupid question after we'd been in the same classroom for 2 WEEKS.

Surprisingly, Alfred didn't frown or call me any distasteful names. In fact, he laughed. His laughter was rather pleasant, I must admit, and it was contagious, so I have to agree that I did smile a little as well. But only a little. I felt a lightly warm feeling in my cheeks, so I rubbed my nose quickly, giving a stupid (stupid) excuse that I was about to sneeze.

Alfred sat down in the seat in front of me and turned around. "Let's start from the beginning, okay? I'm Alfred F. Jones. What's your name?" He offered his hand to greet me, which I took with curiosity.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland." I was about to say 'A pleasure to meet you', but I just closed my mouth and kept shaking his hand. ...I think I looked quite stupid just shaking his hand for about ten straight seconds.

"Sweet. ...So...when are we getting together for the project?"

...Project? Oh, right. "Any week day is fine by me, as long as it's after 4:30, I have football practice. During the weekend—"

"You play football?" Alfred's face tilted to the side in confusion. "But you're...just...not big enough. What are you? The ball?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me...?" Then it hit me. The guy was american, of course he was going to assume I played that brute sport of his. "No, you git. I'm English, I don't play American Football."

"Oh, of course! So you play Soccer!" Alfred smiled, completely oblivious to the fact that I'd just dissed him.

"It's called football, not soccer." I replied in a headstrong manner.

"Not in my country." Alfred grinned goofily.

Well, your country is full of morons and idiots. (I apologize if you are american, dear reader.) We conquered you. Why on Earth would you change the name of one of the best sports in the world, you bunch of plonkers?

"Umm...Arthur?" Alfred called, waking me from my thoughts.

I must've looked really ridiculous.

"Uhh...sorry...what?"

Alfred laughed loudly, making the heat return to my face because of embarrassment. "Wow, you get lost in your thoughts a lot! Anyway, what were you saying about weekends?"

I grumbled. "I have...other things to do on Saturdays and Sundays from ten to twelve in the morning. Also, it's impossible for me to go anywhere on Fridays. I have too much work to do."

Alfred stared at me, his mouth slightly open. "...Wow dude, you have a tight schedule. What are you? A business man?"

There he was with his dude thing again. Plonker. "Now that you know my schedule, feel free to contact me anytime within my free time. Or, if you'd like, I could contact you."

"No, it's alright, I'll call you." Alfred answered, now his expression was back to a bright smile. "Could I get your phone number?"

NO. By no means, you cannot get my phone number. EVER.

"Cell phone number." I corrected as I wrote down my cell phone number in a piece of paper. "Don't call me at home."

"Why?"

Because then my brothers, who know about my sexual preference, would bully me so much I would have to live under a rock for the rest of my life.

"I may not be there."

"Why?"

"...None of your business."

"Why?"

"Because." I answered, getting my book out again. "If you would kindly excuse me, I'd like to continue reading."

Please go away.

"...Why?"

"Because I enjoy Oscar Wilde's way of narrating with scrutinizing detail and..." Why was I giving him a serious answer if he was beginning to grin goofily again? "Just leave, you git!"

Alfred chuckled, but he still got up from his chair. I don't know what he was thinking when he did this, but he dared to ruffle my hair. "I'll call you later." Then he left, winking an eye at me and flashing a smile.

I pushed the thoughts of to the back of my head and grunted in response.

You can say whatever you want to say about Ms. Sophie, but I still trust that her decision of changing my partner from someone like Vladimir the Impaler to someone with the IQ of an isolated turnip was the correct one.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Even though the person who was calling my name was Elizaveta I couldn't help but think: Oh God, what now?

"I need to tell you something! Yesterday Roderich and I...Why are you blushing?" She asked once she was next to me, Tino sitting where Alfred had sat down a few seconds ago.

"For no reason." I answered as expressionless as I could, not putting my book down. I was so not blushing. ...Really! "What were you saying about Roderich?"

Elizabeta turned a little red, but she was smarter than that. "Don't change the subject! What happened just now?"

Tino couldn't help but smile at her stubborness.

"Nothing." I replied, giving a light shrug.

"Come on, Arthur, I always tell you everything~." She pleaded.

"Alright, you want to know why I'm slightly red?" ...Slightly, right. I put the book down and sighed. "I read a very suggestive scene in The Picture of Dorian Gray. Satisfied?"

They looked at me with doubt in their eyes, especially Tino. Elizaveta, however, eventually gave up and continued telling me the love escapade she had with Roderich, the austrian guy in our same grade but in a different classroom. Good thing she never reads Oscar Wilde.

During our lunch break, Elizaveta and Tino kept glancing at me and exchanging whispers and nods. When I turned to see them, Elizaveta giggled and blushed, while Tino just smiled at me kindly. They knew I was listening to them, the gits.

The other people who were seating around me, including Francis, were too preocupied with their foods and their own talks to focus in the exchange between Elizaveta and Tino. Even Roderich, who was usually at Elizaveta's side, was having a heated argument with Gilbert.

Honestly, I didn't know what that Gilbert guy was doing here. He was supposed to be in university. His younger brother, Ludwig, besides being much more...charming and calm than Gilbert, was a senior. By charming I mean quiet and peaceful. (May I add that he was mighty close with Feliciano, which made Lovino pretty angry).

"EEEP!" Tino almost fell to the floor when Berwald's big hand touched his shoulder. He turned around, and upon seeing the tall man, he sighed calmly and placed a hand on his small chest. "Oh, Berwald, you scared me."

To my amusement, Berwald's expression switched into one that included both surprise and guilt. "S'rry." He looked exactly like a sad Rottweiler. Some think it's cute, some think it's scary, some think it's just wrong.

Tino smiled sweetly at him, though I could see he was a little nervous. "D-don't feel bad. You surprised me, that's it. Are you hungry?" Berwald's expression changed back to normal, as he nodded and sat down next to Tino quietly.

Though peeping is not my normal activity, I watched from the corner of my eyes how...close they were to each other. Berwald was very tall and mighty intimidating, while Tino was much smaller and girlier in appearance. Some random voice at the back of my head thought they made a cute couple. I made a mental note to stop hanging out so much with Elizaveta and her friends.

"Arth'r—"

I heard Berwald's trademark accent call my name, and I almost jumped as well. Had he seen me staring at them? My eyes widened a little and a blush threatened to appear in my face. I turned to see him, trying to look as calm as always. "Yes?"

"Y' s'id Pet'r ne'ds a b'bys'tt'r Fr'd'y, r'ght?"

I was so nervous with being caught that I couldn't understand him, though I usually could. I blinked in confussion. "...excuse me, what?"

"Berwald asked if you needed a babysitter for Peter this Friday." Tino answered. He was used to being Berwald's translator by now, so he could understand the man perfectly well.

All the threats of my blush vanished immediately when they mentioned Peter. "Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Would you please do me that favor, Berwald? I have business to attend to on Friday and I certainly can't take Peter with me."

Berwald nodded. "'T wh't t'me?"

"The usual time." I answered, giving him the only true smile I had given anyone for the last weeks. "Thank you so much, Berwald. You have no idea of how grateful I am for this. I promise I'll try to make it up to you somehow." Even if I was already paying him, I felt like the money he charged for taking care of my monster-little-brother wasn't enough.

While many teenagers try to slip away from babysitting their younger siblings (especially if they act like Peter) just for the hell of it, I had a reason why I needed Berwald to help me this Friday. I couldn't take Peter to the place where I was going. Really, I couldn't.

Berwald shook his head. "It's n't a pr'bl'm at all."

I sent him a smile again, though this one wasn't as true as the last one. The calm mood was interrupted by some moron yelling at the top of his lungs all the way from the other side of the cafeteria. We all turned around to see who the poor bastard that was being called out so fervently was.

"ARTHUR!"

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no...

"Arthur, hey!" It was the git. And I was the poor bastard. He was waving at me fervently as he approached the table.

The whole cafeteria began to laugh and whisper. I sank in my seat and buried my face in the book I was reading while the american made his way through the cafeteria. He sat down right next to me and ruffled my hair. Again. "Hey, Arthur! I've gotta tell you something! Did you know—! Hmm...? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"No, Alfred, I'm not sick." I answered, my voice muffled since I was still hiding my face in the book, though now it was because of a different reason. No, I wasn't blushing. ...Maybe just a little.

"Are you sure?" He snatched the book away from my hands so quickly that I couldn't take it back. When he saw my face, Alfred gasped. "You're as red as a tomato, you know? Arthur, are you sure you aren't sick?"

I growled and shook my head. "I'm not sick. It's the weather."

"But—"

"Ah, mon ami! Who is this handsome young man and why haven't you introduced us yet?" Francis took Alfred's hand and kissed it once. "My name is Francis Bonnefoy! It's a pleasure to meet such a delicious young man!"

Alfred grinned and retrieved his hand from the french. "My name is Alfred F Jones. Please stay away from me."

Maybe he isn't as stupid as he acts.

Finally, school had ended. Now I was walking home, along with Francis, to get the football (not soccer, football) uniform from my house, which was really close to the school. Practice didn't start until 3:30 anyway.

"How has school been for you, mon cher?" Francis asked in a trully interested voice.

"Ah, fine." I answered with a light shrug, not even turning to see him.

"Nothing interesting has happened to you?"

I raised an eyebrow, now turning at him. "Interesting? ...Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like someone giving you a note?"

"You knew she would give me the note all along?" I stoppped, my mouth was hanging open. This guy got along with her friends, how could he not know?

"Calm down, calm down!" He laughed and raised his hands in defense. "I didn't know. Someone told me she was really pissed off because you rejected her, that's it. I knew nothing. What did the note say, anyways?"

"...I don't know, I never read it."

Francis looked at me in disbelief. "Oh, you foolish Englishman! You should always read the notes anyone gives you! You haven't thrown it away, have you?"

"As a matter of fact, I think I haven't." I mumbled, digging into my pocket to fetch out the eye-murdering fucsia post-it. "Here it is."

"Well, read it!"

Do you want to know what the bloody note said? Here it is:

Hi! I kno we dont kno each other that much, but i think ur totally hot!

Omg wed be ttly cute together!

Lets go out this friday k? im having a party and ur totally invited. U can get earlier if you want to.

We could have some fun my parents arent gonna be there...

XoXo

Heather *

Francis was covering his mouth, trying not to giggle. Of course, he failed miserably and began to laugh his french arse off a few seconds later. Histerically, by the way.

Meanwhile, I was glaring at the butchered English this so-called 16 year old girl had "written".

"Mon Dieu!" Francis said between his laughter fits, "this is hilarious!"

"Are you out of your mind? It's bloody scary!" I crumpled the fucsia paper and tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin. "I didn't even know her name was Heather until our second period this morning!"

"And I presume she still doesn't know about your preferences, hm?" Francis said with a teasing tone.

"I hope not." I glared at Francis. "You and Elizaveta are the only ones supposed to know. I presume that is still the case."

"Don't worry, I haven't told anyone anything about you. It's not like they ask, anyway." Francis answered, ruffling my hair.

Even though I hate to admit it, the familiar feeling reminded me of Alfred. I felt another blush creeping to my face, so I immediately turned away. Sadly, I forgot that Francis wasn't as stupid as he looked.

"Mon cher! Are you blushing?" He grabbed the tip of my chin and turned my head towards him. "Oh, what a surprise! You had never blushed when I touched you before! What does this mean?"

I pushed his hand off my face with a scowl. "Shut up, I'm not blushing. I just...It's the weather, that's it."

"Sure, mon cher, sure." He smiled at me. "Is this the way your body expresses your deep love for me? ...Or perhaps there's another reason...?" He grinned as if he knew something I didn't. "...Do you know what 'love at first sight' is?"

"Francis, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I just thought that you and that américain garçon got along quite well in the cafeteria, that's all." He swayed his hand playfully. I was about to say a really cool comeback, but he interrupted me. "Oh look! Time goes by so quickly! We've arrived at your home already. Au revoir, mon cher!"

And then he walked away.

...Love at first sight? What was he talking about?

If you review, I'll try to convince Alfred and Arthur to go to your house dressed in pink bunny suits and take baskets full of ale and whiskey. :3