Unexpected

Arthur Kirkland was many things. He was an honor student as well as the President of the Student Council of World Academy. He was the forth-and youngest-son of a well-to-do English family. He was stubborn. He was the rival/best friend of Francis Bonnefoy, who he'd argued with since childhood. He was a notoriously horrible cook.

He was also a marvelous tutor when he was willing to put forth the patience required for such a thing. More often he got so fed up with the hapless student he was trying to teach that he stormed out of the library or made them run from the room crying.

Rather than patience, sometimes all he needed was the proper motivation.

.

.

Arthur watched his latest victim run out of the room crying, leaving him behind to clean up the mess of books. He sighed, knowing what was coming next.

"Mon ami, that's the third girl you've scared off this month."

Arthur didn't react as Francis emerged from behind a bookshelf, his usual charming smile in place. The Frenchman was always there, and as much as it pained Arthur to acknowledge it, even to himself, he appreciated the other blonde's constant presence.

Francis pulled out the recently vacated chair and sat down with a grace that was all his own. One long leg swung over the other and Arthur knew he wasn't going to be moving for some time. His charming smile grew broader as he leaned closer to his British friend.

"You should be nicer to people. You're always so stuffy and strict! How about being more like moi?"

Arthur swore he saw sparkles in the air around his friend. "I don't think so, Frog," he responded, his tone lacking its usual bite. "It's not my fault these fools don't pay attention to a word I'm saying. They just sit there and stare at me."

"Ah~ I can see the appeal."

Arthur narrowed his bright green eyes into a glare, smacking away Francis's hand as it strayed too close to his leg. "Belt up! Not everyone's as interested in that as you!"

Francis gave a sad sigh, removing his hand as he looked at Arthur with what may have been pity. "It's true. Many are not interested in the true magic of l'amour. Perhaps if they were, they wouldn't fall for a scruffy-haired, foul-tempered Brit like yourself, non?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Francis chuckled. "Nothing, mon ami. And keep your voice down. This is a library after all."

Arthur rolled his eyes and began packing up his books, setting aside the ones belonging to the library. "Like you really care about that. I know most of your detentions come from you doing inappropriate things in here."

Francis feigned a look of innocence. "Why, I was merely educating the other students on the beauty of l'amour. Is that really so bad?"

"It is when you put sex education books in the fiction section. And dare I ask why I found Sex for Dummies in with the Harry Potter books?"

Francis shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."

Arthur made a sound of disapproval but didn't bother lecturing him. Francis wouldn't listen. In fact, he would probably take a lecture as a sign of encouragement and do it even more often. So, in the interest of keeping their librarian somewhat sane, Arthur held his tongue.

"Putting it with Twilight would have been more appropriate," he muttered as he ducked down to put his notebooks into his book bag.

Francis chuckled. "I have something else in mind for that. Now, back to our original topic." Again, his hand strayed too close to Arthur's thigh. He quickly withdrew before he could get smacked. "Perhaps you'd prefer tutoring someone who won't spend the hour staring at you?"

Arthur's tidy packing came to a halt. His eyes widened a fraction as he looked at Francis. Then, realizing it was most likely a hoax, he schooled his expression to one of mild indifference. What the Frenchman said was too good to be true. There was always something wrong with the students he tutored. Whether it was them staring at him for an entire hour, ignoring everything he said in favor of doodling in books, or being unable to comprehend even the simplest instructions, there was always something Arthur found fault with.

"You don't believe me?" Francis asked.

"No," Arthur said bluntly. "You've given me no reason to and to be quite honest, I'd rather not be stuck tutoring someone else. I've tried. Just let me finish the rest of the school year in peace."

Francis smirked, tilting his head to the side as his friend grabbed the strap of his bag and stood. "Are you saying you can't do it?"

Arthur froze.

Damn that Frog.

"I'm saying I don't want to do it," said the Briton.

"If you say so."

Bugger.

Arthur fidgeted. He couldn't let Francis win. Absolutely not. But if he didn't agree to tutor one last person, it'd be all over the school in no time that there was something he couldn't do. His reputation would be forever tarnished. No one would listen to him anymore. His brothers would find out about it and never let him forget.

Either way, he was in a Lose-Lose situation.

"Fine," he gave in. "This is the last person I will tutor, whether it works out or not."

Chuckling, Francis withdrew a piece of paper from his pants pocket. "I'm so glad you agreed. I was worried I would have to deprive you of my wonderful presence until you came crawling back to me, begging to have someone to tutor." He grinned at the scathing glare he received. "He's a special case, this one. He can't study right after school thanks to the extracurricular activities he's involved in, so you'll have to go to his apartment later. The school's willing to pay extra for your trouble, of course."

"Just give me the bloody paper, Francis," Arthur growled, holding out a hand.

Francis stood up first, stretching languidly. "What I wouldn't give for more comfortable chairs in here…" He eyed Arthur, noting that he looked about ready to stomp away and go do embroidery in the Student Council room like he always did when he wanted to calm down. At last he handed over the piece of paper with a flourish. Once it was in the Briton's hands, he walked away, calling over his shoulder: "Au revoir!"

Arthur watched his friend leave, thankful he didn't have to be around him anymore. As Francis reached the exit, he finally read over the paper to see who he would be tutoring.

Alfred F. Jones

Room 714

S. Spangled Apartments

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday - 7:00

XXX-XXXX

Arthur crumpled the paper in his hand, vowing to get revenge on Francis.

.

.

He arrived at the apartment at precisely 6:58 pm. He always made a point to be early, even if it was only by a few minutes. He carefully straightened his tie and made sure his shirt was tucked in before he knocked on the door.

"Comin'!"

Arthur steeled himself for a frustrating night. He stood up straight and guarded his expression just as the door swung open to reveal a smiling American in sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a damp towel thrown around his shoulders. His blue eyes widened in surprise at who was standing there and his smile slipped away.

"Arthur…? What are you doing here?"

Arthur cleared his throat and prayed that he would sound calmer than he felt. "I was assigned as your tutor."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense," Alfred said.

Arthur flinched. He could hear the underlying disappointment in the younger man's voice. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

It wasn't his fault. Alfred was the one who ended it. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. No reason Alfred should be disappointed that the reason for his visit was for official school business.

So why did it hurt so much to hear the sadness in his ex-friend's voice?

"Are you going to invite me in or not?" Arthur questioned, shoving aside his feelings. He had a job to do. "We have a limited amount of time to study, thanks to your schedule, and I'd like to get started."

Alfred nodded and moved out of the way, opening the door wider so Arthur could walk inside. "Don't mind the mess. I haven't had a chance to clean today. I did clean off the table, so we can study there."

"I suppose I should be thankful for even that much," Arthur said. His eyes roved around the room and he noted with surprise that it was far cleaner than he had ever seen it. Gone were the stacks of pizza boxes and bags of fast food that once covered the countertops. Gone were the random articles of clothing strewn across the floor and couch. Gone was the smell of something rotting amidst the mess. The mess of video games and movies was still there, spread out in front of the television.

"It's clean…" Arthur murmured.

"Huh? You say something, Arthur?"

Arthur shook his head. "No. Nothing. Let's get started." He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, setting his bag down on the tabletop before sitting down. "I wasn't given any details, but I'm assuming you need help with English."

Alfred laughed nervously. "Yeah, I do. I haven't been doing so hot in that class lately. Think you can help?"

"I doubt anyone could improve your English," Arthur muttered with a roll of his eyes. He unbuckled his bag and withdrew several books. "I promise to do my best to teach you. I hope you realize that I'm not here to provide a quick fix or write essays for you. I will read over them and check for mistakes, but that's all."

"Dude, I know that," Alfred said, walking over to the refrigerator. Rather than grabbing a can or two of soda from inside as he would have done when he first started school, he pulled out a pitcher of tea and set it on the counter. Without asking if Arthur wanted some, he retrieved two cups and poured tea into each of them. He put it back in the refrigerator before joining Arthur at the table, sliding one glass down to the Englishman.

"So I'm having problems with this research paper we're supposed to be writing," Alfred said.

Arthur frowned at the tea, wondering when Alfred started keeping such things in his refrigerator.

Alfred fidgeted. "We're supposed to pick a country and write about one period in history. The teacher wouldn't let us pick the country we're from, so I don't really know what to write about. I mean, I could write about Canadia but that wouldn't be fair to Mattie and I know I'd mess something up and get him pissed at me again."

Arthur blinked and looked away from the glass. "Who's 'Mattie'?"

"Mattie? Oh, he's my bro," Alfred said. "He's the reason this place is actually clean. And he's the owner of that hockey stick over there." He jabbed his thumb to the corner of the kitchen, where a mostly white hockey stick was leaning against the wall. "He tends to go unnoticed to most people. Even I forget when he's around sometimes. I try to make it up to him when I can. Usually by keeping the freezer stocked with that maple flavored ice cream he likes."

"A brother? You?" Arthur repeated, feeling faint. "When did this happen? I don't remember you having a brother."

"Since always, I guess. I just didn't know about him until I bumped into him in my second year," Alfred said. "Lemme tell ya, I don't think anyone was more surprised than me when I ran smack into him! It was like walking into a mirror. Only my reflection had longer hair than me. And different colored eyes. And looked like he was about to cry. Well, and he wasn't hard like a mirror. So really it wasn't like walking into a mirror at all."

Arthur almost wanted to laugh. It was like they were friends again, sitting in the library trying to study for a class and all Alfred wanted to do was ramble on about his day. But instead he was hearing about events from two years ago.

Two years…

It was hard to believe they hadn't spoken in two years. How had they gone from being the best of friends to barely acknowledging each other's existence? Even Arthur didn't know the answer to that question. It seemed to happen so suddenly. One minute they were laughing and goofing off like always and the next Alfred…

"Dude, you okay?" Alfred asked.

"I'm fine," Arthur snapped. "Lets get to work. There are plenty of countries for you to choose from. Do you know which ones have already been taken?"

"A bunch."

Why was it that Arthur always wanted to scream when he was around Alfred? Even in the past, there was something about the American that got him all emotional. He gritted his teeth. "How about Russia?"

"I don't want to write about some Communist country," Alfred replied. "Besides, Mattie chose that one."

"China."

"Communism."

"Germany?"

"Nazi's."

"Italy?"

"Good food. But it's already taken by Ludwig."

Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't stop to think about why their German classmate chose that country. "What about France?" He asked.

Alfred laughed. "France sucks."

Arthur covered his mouth and coughed to hide the smile threatening to break out across his face. "How about Cuba?"

"Dude, Communism."

"South Korea?"

Alfred paused to think about it. "Could be interesting… What else you got?"

"The Philippines?"

"Already taken."

"Belgium?"

"Now I want chocolate."

"Switzerland?"

Alfred grinned. "My opinion is neutral."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't be childish. What about Spain?"

"Makes me think of Spanish, which makes me think of Mexico, and I don't like Mexico."

Arthur hesitated a moment. "What about Great Britain?" He was surprised when he didn't get the instant reply of "why would I wanna write about that?" Instead, Alfred seemed to be thinking it over.

"You wouldn't mind me writing about your country?" Alfred asked, sounding surprisingly serious. "What if I fuck something up?"

"As your tutor, it's my job to make sure you don't bungle up your assignments," Arthur reminded him. "If you're serious about writing about Great Britain, I will gladly help you. However, if it becomes clear that you are not at all serious about it, you will receive no more help from me. Understand?"

A broad grin split across Alfred's face. "Gotcha, Artie. I'll take this one-hundred percent seriously! So, where do we start?"

Arthur thought for a moment, taking his time to recover from the jolt of surprise that washed over him at being called "Artie" for the first time in two years. "I suppose we'll have to go to the library. You need to figure out what period of history you want to write about. There's a lot to chose from. Great Britain is full of interesting history."

"Yeah, cuz it's so old," Alfred said. "Well I know what I don't want to write about. Everyone does the Revolutionary War. I wanna write about something more original!"

Arthur chuckled. "Well that's a good start. There were plenty of other things Great Britain was doing around that period of time. Like defeating Spain's so-called invincible armada, for example."

"Yeah?" Alfred asked. "That sounds pretty cool. Maybe this project won't be as dull as I thought."

A frantic knocking sounded at the door. Both blond's turned their heads to look at it, one more annoyed than the other for the sudden interruption.

"Gimme a second," Alfred murmured, getting up to answer the door. When he pulled it open, he was greeted by a tired-looking Asian man surrounded by four children. One of the youngest was in his arms, clutching the poor man's ponytail. "Hey, Yao. What's up?"

"Is Matthew here? I need him to watch after them for me again," Yao explained. "Aiyaa! Xianliang, don't pull that!"

"Mattie ran off to play hockey with Ivan," Alfred explained with a small scowl, which Yao quickly matched. Neither of them were too fond of the Russian.

Yao pried Xianliang's fingers from his hair. "I need to go pick up my cousin, but there's no way I can take all of them with me! Xuan and Virote were supposed to be back an hour— AIYAA! Yong Soo! Don't touch that!" He broke into rapid Chinese as one of the older boys started reaching for the fire alarm.

Alfred waited patiently for his neighbor to calm down, knowing that he wouldn't listen until he did so. "Yao, I can watch them until Mattie gets back. He shouldn't be out too much longer."

Yao hesitated.

"I'll even have help!" Alfred said cheerfully. "Look, it won't be for very long and it's starting to get late anyway. I can give 'em a snack and set them down for some evening cartoons. I know Mei Li and Leon go to bed at eight and Mattie usually lets Yong Soo and Kiku stay up until they start nodding off, which is usually around nine. I can totally do this."

Yao sighed. "Okay. But Mei Li will only sleep when she has her pink rabbit and blanket. And Xianliang won't sleep until he gets a glass of warm milk and has his panda. And Yong Soo—"

"Go," Alfred interrupted, reaching out and taking Kiku's hand. "Seriously, Yao, you can trust me. I help Mattie all the time. Watch this." He cleared his throat. "Yong Soo, Mattie made fresh cookies today."

Yong Soo ran away from the fire alarm and into room 714, giggling and cheering and flapping his arms around. "Cookies! Da ze!"

Yao wasn't completely convinced that Alfred could handle everything, but after a glance at his watch he decided he didn't have any other choice. "I left a message for Xuan and Virote, but I don't know if they got it or not. So just listen for them and let them know I don't need them to baby-sit tonight." He watched as Mei Li walked into the apartment clutching her oversized pink bunny. A sigh slipped past his lips when he caught sight of Yong Soo bouncing around on the couch.

"I'll call you if I have any problems," Alfred promised, releasing Kiku's hand so he could reach for Xianliang, who had no problem going from his big brother's shoulder into the American's arms. He clutched the arm of his stuffed panda in one chubby hand, which made Alfred smile. "See ya later, Yao!"

Before the Asian could say anything else, Alfred double checked to make sure all four children were in the room and then shut the door. He heard Yao mutter something in Chinese before he stepped away from the door.

"Alfred, what's going on?"

Alfred cringed. He'd forgotten about his guest.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his agitation rising. "Did you forget about your project already?"

It would be just like Alfred to forget something important in favor of something he deemed more fun. He scowled and looked away from his ex-friend. He didn't want to see Alfred's expression at his next few words. He flipped his notebook shut, sticking his mechanical pencil in the metal spirals. "I told you to be serious about this, but it seems like you're not. I'll be back tomorrow, but that will be your final chance."

He stood and made to walk to the door, but found himself blocked by Alfred.

"Move," Arthur demanded. "I don't have time for this."

"I'm not moving. And neither are you," Alfred said stubbornly. "Look, I'm sorry that things didn't go exactly the way you wanted, but I couldn't just turn him away! Yao's helped me and Mattie a ton over the past few years and I've gotta repay him somehow. Besides," he paused as Xianliang turned around in his arms, nearly smacking him in the face with his panda. "Besides, I love watching after these four. And we can still get work done! I've got a computer with internet. I know it's not entirely reliable, but I can at least use it to figure out what time period I want to write about!"

Arthur hesitated, looking from the Asian in Alfred's arms to the two clinging to his legs, all three of them looking up at him with big brown eyes of varying shades. "…you said there are four of them?"

"Yup!"

"I only see three."

Arthur found his gaze drawn to confused blue eyes. Then he heard something that may have been a curse before he found himself with a confused boy and stuffed panda in his arms while Alfred ran off to locate the missing child. He stared at the boy, unsure of what to do or say. As the youngest of four brothers, he'd never had to deal with young children.

"Hello there," he whispered.

Amber eyes stared up at him in confusion and a little fear. The panda bear was no longer clutched by one hand, but was instead pulled close to his chest and held in place by two cherubic arms.

Arthur found himself slowly rocking back and forth, humming a sweet song, trying to calm the boy down. He was aware of nothing but the boy, watching carefully as his eyelids slowly flickered shut and his head lolled softly. The child sighed deeply. Contentedly.

"Da ze!"

"Yong Soo!"

"I'm telling Aniki."

"My bunny!"

The small Asian in Arthur's arms awoke with a start and began crying.

.

.

Nearly three hours later, Yao finally returned to retrieve his sleeping siblings with the help of his Indian cousin, a rather sweet girl who Alfred knew from experience had a fondness for capturing pictures of cute boys in compromising positions (which she'd then sell to the Hungarian who lived two floors below them). While Arthur straightened up the piles of drawings done by Kiku and Yong Soo and picked up the remaining Cheerios Mei Li had been snacking on, Alfred stood by the door to listen to Yao's lengthy apology for taking so long to get back and his thankfulness for having Alfred as a neighbor he could rely on.

"Yao, it was really no problem!" Alfred said, trying his best to shoo the man away. "I mean it! Me and Mattie totally owe you and we both love watching after them. Besides, I had some great help."

Arthur found himself blushing for reasons he didn't understand as he stood up to toss the Cheerios into the garbage. He put the artwork on the table, deciding to leave it for Alfred to take care of. His eyes fell on the top page, which was of a rather nice cartoonish sketch of him and Alfred working on research. In it Alfred was staring at the laptop screen, deep in concentration, with one hand ruffling his hair and a pencil in his other. He picked up the paper when he realized that the doodle of him had a rather fond expression on his face as he held a cup of tea and watched Alfred work.

He could feel his cheeks burned and he shuffled the papers so that picture was at the bottom. Surely the boy was just skewing what he saw, as children did on occasion. He and Alfred hadn't been on good terms in a long time. Old feelings didn't just come back like that in one night!

"Artie?"

Arthur jumped in surprise. "O-oh! Alfred! All done chatting, I see. My, it's getting late. I should be getting back to my room. We have class in the morning. Wouldn't want to stay up too late, am I right?" Laughing nervously, he scooped up his bookbag and started for the door. "I'll meet you at the library tomorrow at seven. Don't forget!"

"Arthur, wait!"

Arthur stopped walked when he felt Alfred's hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes tightly. 'This is it. He's going to tell me that today was only a one-time thing and that he has no interest in being friends again and that he wants a different tutor—'

"You should come over again sometime."

'What?' Bright green eyes flew open.

"I'm serious, Arthur," Alfred continued. "Not just for studying. I'd like it if you came over to hang out. Kind of like old times. I could introduce you to my brother, that way hopefully you won't confuse us if you see him in the hall. I, um," he hesitated a moment, taking his hand away from Arthur's shoulder. "I want us to be friends again, if that's okay."

"I thought you didn't want to be friends anymore. You didn't want to be around me or listen to me," Arthur said coldly. "Do not forget, Alfred, that you were the one who broke off our friendship."

"I haven't forgotten," Alfred said, sounding surprisingly calm. "I don't regret it. We spent every day together, Arthur. I didn't have any other friends, but you did. What was I supposed to do when you went off to argue with Francis or play chess or whatever with Antonio. I figured that maybe if I stepped out from your shadow… I wanted a chance to shine on my own. People knew me then as your friend. I wanted them to know me for me. And now they do. Arthur…" He reached out for him.

Arthur slapped his hand away, hurt blazing in his eyes. "Do you think that fixes everything? Do you honestly think a few words can change two years worth of heartache? That I'll forgive you after a simple apology? It won't work, Alfred! Not this time!" He stood there, breathing heavily, not knowing what else to say. So he stood there, his entire body tense, daring Alfred to say something, anything.

"I-I'm sorry."

Arthur's heart clenched tightly.

Alfred trembled. "God, Arthur, I… I'm sorry. I'm so…" He choked back a sob as he roughly wiped his eyes. "Damn it, got something in my eye… stupid dust."

Arthur's initial anger evaporated as he watched his old friend struggle not to cry. "You idiot. You… you were my only real friend. I needed you, but you left. You left me alone with Francis. Do you know how much that hurt? To lose the one person I felt I could trust." He watched Alfred wipe his eyes, muttering curses under his breath, and came to a realization.

For two years he'd dwelled on what happened that day, analyzing it over and over from every angle, wondering what would have happened had things gone differently. He had Francis to distract him periodically with petty arguments and frilly words, but eventually he would be left alone with his thoughts. Still, he could always count on the Frenchman to provide a distraction, however brief it was. Even immersing himself in books didn't work for long. A few hours at the most, if he could find a good one.

Alfred, on the other hand, rarely had a moment alone thanks to his newfound popularity. He'd quickly risen to be a star player on the football team and his tendency to spin wild tales and never turn down a chance in the spotlight led him to be a favorite at parties and social events. Despite all of that, the life of someone in the spotlight was constantly changing. He was never around the exact same people for very long, and he certainly couldn't rely on them for more than a few laughs. However, it was his busy schedule and the way people flocked to him that led to him having very little time to think about past events.

Alfred hadn't moved on.

Arthur had.

Thinking about it, he'd forgiven Alfred long ago, he just hadn't realized it.

Alfred hadn't had time to forgive himself.

Arthur sighed and slipped the strap of his over his head so it could rest comfortably by his side. "I'll let myself out." He fought with himself to walk to the door. All he wanted to do was run back and hold Alfred tightly. But he couldn't. He steeled himself to speak again. It wouldn't be right if both of them broke down into tears. "Alfred, I will see you tomorrow at the library. Seven o'clock. Don't be late."

Then he left.

.

.

"He's late," Arthur muttered to himself, checking his pocket watch again. He half expected to hear the ever-so-familiar response from Francis, who had spent half the day stalking him and trying to weasel out of him what had happened the night before to make him even more melancholy than usual.

There was nothing but the silence of the library.

At a half past seven Arthur gave up on Alfred making an appearance. He slowly began packing away his notes and organized the library books into neat piles so he could return them to the shelves. He stood with a heavy sigh and reached for the encyclopedia's he'd picked up only to find someone else's hand already on it.

He froze, his eyes traveling up the other person's arm until he was looking into a pair of apologetic blue eyes.

"Coach kept me after for extra sprints. I figured you'd appreciate it if I showered before showing up," Alfred explained, keeping his voice soft. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Arthur stared at him for a moment and then pulled his hand away and sat back down. "You realize I can keep you for an extra half hour because of your tardiness. I hope you're ready to research this topic seriously."

Alfred broke out into a smile, all sadness vanishing from his eyes. "I sure am! Hit me with your best shot, Artie!"

Arthur smirked and picked up the largest of the books, turning it around before dropping it in front of Alfred. He chuckled at the bewildered look on the American's face. "We'll start with this until you can narrow down what period of time you wish to write about. Best get started, Alfred. Unless you think it's too much of a challenge."

"Not a chance, Artie. I'll get through this before you know it," Alfred stubbornly flipped open the book. It took him about a page in to realize it wasn't a history book, but one of Arthur's latest fiction stories. "Umm… I don't think this is right."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

.

.

"Artie, this is my brother, Mattie," Alfred introduced.

Arthur nodded politely to the violet-eyed teen standing in front of him, dressed what appeared to be a blue-and-white hockey jersey and a pair of sweatpants. The two certainly looked alike at first glance, but he was already able to see the stark differences between them.

"And that's Mattie's boyfriend or whatever. Braginsky," Alfred said, waving his hand at the tall college student next to his twin.

The man smiled, though it didn't quite reach his cold violet eyes. "Jones is just jealous that Matvey got me first."

"Matthew deserves way better than you," Alfred replied with a slight snarl to his voice.

Matthew looked wearily between them and even Arthur began wondering if they would have to stop the two from brawling in the living room.

After a few seconds of the two glaring at each other, Arthur grew tired of it and loudly cleared his throat. "Alfred, if you continue on like this we'll never make it to the movie."

That seemed to be the magic phrase, as all hostility from Alfred vanished as he bade goodbye to his twin, shouting to "not do anything inappropriate on the couch that he used to watch football games and old reruns of Gilligan's Island" as he dragged Arthur out the door.

Arthur's time with his old friend passed in a blur as they ran down to the movie theater to get their tickets, then spent ten minutes arguing over what to get at the concession stand. In the end, Arthur gave into Alfred's demands of having a large popcorn and drink, which they would share, and a box of candy.

As they sat down, Arthur worried that, when he would inevitably tell Francis about his day with Alfred, the Frenchman would announce that the two were, in fact, on a date. However, as the movie began and Alfred got distracted by the couple's making out in the middle of an action movie and decided that they needed to be punished by pelting them with popcorn, he decided that they were simply rebuilding their friendship.

'Yes,' he told himself as Alfred squeaked and clutched his arm before burrowing his face into his sleeve when moving skeletons appeared on screen. 'We're rebuilding our friendship.'

.

End

.

Gah, screwed up the formatting somehow. Fixed now~

So, Arthur and Alfred decided to go all dramatic on me again. I meant for this to be a silly, sweet story.

Despite that, I like how it turned out.

Alfred F. Jones = America
Arthur Kirkland = England
Francis Bonnefoy = France
Matthew Williams = Canada
Yao = China
Kiku = Japan
Yong Soo = South Korea
Mei Li = Taiwan
Xianliang / Leon = Hong Kong
Virote = Thailand
Xuan = Vietnam
Ivan Braginsky = Russia
Yao's Indian cousin = India