Hey there, Fang here.

Well...now that school is started, I'm not going to be posting as regularly...and only on weekends, to boot. But hey! I'm still writing, don't worry.

Surprisingly, this one...is not angsty! I'm actually not writing torture or bombings...

But don't worry, angst lovers...I have some nice Iggy-as-a-child angst to come up...

If you looked into the first story window on the left hand side of Arthur Kirkland's Victorian style house, you would have found a Briton working furiously over something on his desk.

And that's just what Alfred F. Jones saw.

Arthur wasn't responding to his knocks or his insistent doorbell ringing, and so Alfred had decided not to break his door down for the umpteenth time and actually went around the house to find his study window. Alfred tapped on the window.

Arthur started violently at the intrusive sound, eyes going wide with alarm. He glanced to his right, and relaxed, a hand to his heart, to see it was only Alfred. Mustering up a look of annoyance as best he could, he motioned Alfred to the front door.

Alfred obligingly did so, and waited patiently as he could on Arthur's porch. He felt for the little bag containing the codeine tablets in his jacket pocket, and grinned a little guiltily.

A few clicks and turns, and Arthur swung open the door with what looked like more effort than Alfred thought was necessary.

"Artie! What's up, man? I haven't seen you in days!" Alfred walked past his bro into the house. Arthur shut the door behind him, and leaned on it wearily.

"What do you want, Alfred…" He grumbled. Alfred looked with sympathy at his brother.

Arthur looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and had eaten even less. His clothes were wrinkled and hung on his slim frame, and his hair was…spikier…if it was possible… The bags under his red, blood-shot eyes were deep, dark, and pronounced, making his usual vibrant green eyes look dull in comparison. Alfred knew about his workaholic tendencies, but at the last world meeting, where Arthur hadn't looked much better, he had ascertained that enough was enough. It was time to take this matter into his own hands.

"What, can't a bro go see his other bro across the pond anytime he likes?"

"…It's just not a good time…"

"Whaddaya mean? You don't seem to be doing anything."

Arthur began walking back to his study, his shoulders bowing forward and with a stiffness in his legs that betrayed his bad care.

"I have plenty of work, git…I need to finish."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Dude, maybe it's time you took a break…"

"No time." Came Arthur's clipped tone. Alfred followed him into the room, where Arthur was lowering himself into his seat, rubbing wearily at his eyes.

"Come on, man, how long has it been since you slept?"

"Three hours ago."

"..rephrasing…how much sleep did you get then…"

"Enough."

"What, an hour?"

"It was necessary if I'm going to get this all done by next Wednesday!"

Alfred sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You need a vacation."

"What the bloody #!*% would I do with one of those?" Arthur took up his pen again, and shaking his head as if to clear it, began shakingly to write.

"Relax? Recoup? Enjoy not doing anything?" Alfred was extremely tempted to grab the pen and paper from his over-worked brother's hand.

"I don't have time for that." Arthur repeated, never once moving his eyes from the paper. Alfred knew he didn't want to argue with Arthur. It wasn't why he was there. He heaved a theatrical sigh that sounded a little too suspicious to anyone else, but to Arthur's bordering-on-exhaustion brain, it passed without so much a thought.

"Aaaallllrrrriiiiggghhtt….But couldn't you just take a smallllll break….I came out here allllllll this way to see you….and you say you're so good with hospitality…." Alfred's reputation for being too #!*% obvious were not helping his case, but Arthur was so bordering on the edge between reality and sleep that he didn't notice.

Arthur sighed and put down his pen to rub circles at his temples.

"Alfred…I'm really swamped right now…I don't know if-"

"I'll make you tea!"

Arthur paused, and then pinched the bridge of his nose.

"…A small break. But then, Alfred, I swear…"

"Yeah! Yeah, you need to work, I totally get it! Awesome, Iggy, I'll go make some!"

He rushed into the kitchen and began boiling water. From where he was, he could hear Arthur groan as he got up from his study chair. He would make fun of him being old again (It was sooo freaking tempting) but considering that Iggy was not in any good humor, he decided to refrain.

The tea was done, and opening the packet, he dropped the codeine into the hot tea with a grin.

"Hey, Iggy! It's done!"

Alfred went into Arthur's tearoom and set the cup down by the couch, choosing to sit in the easy chair himself. Arthur came slowly into the room a few seconds later, blood-shot eyes blinking furiously to stay open. He literally collapsed onto the couch, and reached out for the cup. Alfred waited until he had taken a nice long sip of the spiked tea before he started talking.

"So Whatcha been working on that's so important that you've worked yourself to death, Iggy?"

Arthur took another drink, and rolls of tension melted off his shoulders.

"mmmmmm…budget…economic papers…odds and ends…"

"Is it hard?"

Alfred snickered to himself. Waiting for the drug to work was taking every ounce of patience he had.

"Of course it is, git. Why do you think it's taking forever…"

"You're just slow?"

Arthur really must have been tired, he was barely responding to any insult or jibe Alfred threw at him.

"…..no, it is simply painstaking math and work…"

Alfred shook his head incredulously. The sooner he got Iggy back to his insulting, cursing, animated self, the better. He stood up from the chair and stretched.

"Hey, Iggy, I think I left some of my stuff up in my room here that I need. I'm gonna go get them, ok?"

Iggy waved his hand in a gesture of acceptance and paid great attention to his tea. Still trying to cover up his guilty laughter, Alfred went upstairs, but instead of going to his room, he took a left turn to Artie's.

Opening up a small luggage bag that Arthur kept above his dresser, Alfred started grabbing some of Arthur's clothes and, actually taking the time, laid them neatly into the bag. He looked around, and then after some smirking hesitation, grabbed Iggy's bear and added it to the pile. He zipped up the luggage and ran downstairs to put it by the door.

When he went back into the tearoom, he made it just in time to see Iggy fall over sideways on the couch, an empty tea cup on the tea table. Arthur's eyes were closed and his mouth open in the signs of a deep drug-induced sleep.

Alfred finally let himself laugh a little as he gathered his out-for-the-count brother into his arms and walked out of the room, picking up Arthur's luggage as he went. Arthur's head lolled on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Artie…It's for your own good…"

Alfred's plane wasn't too far away from the house. Once he reached it, he bundled his unconscious bro into the seat and tossed his luggage after him. He rushed back to the house to lock it, and then pulled out his phone to send a quick text to the Prime Minister. He took one more look at Arthur, and then hopped into the pilot's seat.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

Poor Arthur...But really, it is for his own good...

Alfred, Alfred, Alfred...That's all I really have to say on the matter...

Heh, I think maybe one more chapter and this fic will be finished and I can move onto the next two angsty fics (or three...I have an idea for one more...)

Anyway, Please review, it makes A.P. Biology so much easier to get through...That class is f-ing hard, man...

See ya!

-Fang