You Are My Hero

Summary: Alfred arrives as a new student to H High and is horrified to find the Bad Touch Trio bullying a boy named Arthur. Alfred vows to be Arthur's hero, but is Arthur really the victim he appears to be? UKUS Warning: Dark Arthur

( I'm also going for a much tougher and less emotional Alfred. Not that I don't mind angst-ridden Alfred, but it's been done so much that I decided to go for a decision-oriented Alfred who lives almost more by stoicism. He doesn't become a puddle of emotional goo over every little rough decision. He tries his best and never gives up. He's not the sensitive type so atmosphere sometimes goes right over his head, but that doesn't mean he's a jerk.

I have not fully worked this story out yet so I have not decided if it ends with pairings or not. At this point I'll say its going to be UKUS, but I promise nothing other than a good story. )

A universal rule of high school: Being the new kid sucked.

Which is why Alfred had to be crazy, because he was looking forward to it. New friends, new faces. Sure he'd miss all his awesome buds back at his last school, but being a new kid meant a change. His mom and dad were more sad about moving then he was or so he told himself.

He'd never like being in one place too long anyway and he'd grown up in his last town. He'd been there all his life and had been aching to shake things up anyway. Alfred F. Jones was a dreamer to his core. He kept posters of faraway lands all over his room. Though his dad said he was crazy and his mom said it was impossible, his dream was to be a world-traveling-doctor-explorer-mechanic-software genius.

Truth be told, he was a little down having left all his awesome friends behind, but his parents were all ready feeling blue enough about the move that he didn't want to make them more depressed so he slapped on his best grin and acted like this was the best thing ever.

He'd said it so many times now, he'd almost convinced himself of it too. Which is why when he arrived late, he was grinning as he ran inside. He'd dressed in his favorite leather coat with the number fifty on the back and jeans. He had an American flag-colored backpack slung over his shoulder and was just finishing scarfing a breakfast burger in his mouth.

Just got drop by administration and then it's off to class, he told himself, already planning his excuse for being tardy. So immersed in his thoughts, he never saw the boy as he turned the corner until he collided smack into him, knocking them both back. Papers in the other boy's arms when scattering everywhere.

"Ah, geez," he said, jumping up, hurriedly gathering the paper. "Sorry about that man, I di-." He froze, gaping at the other boy. Those have to be the biggest eyebrows... ever. He couldn't believe it. Was this guy Oscar the Grouch's cousin or what? He finally snapped out of it at the boy's reproachful glare and blinking, remarked, "You okay, man?"

The boy's expression softened a bit and he nodded, replying, "I'm quite all right." British? He helped collecting papers studying the boy out of the corner of his eye. The guy had a mop of sandy-blonde hair atop his head and wore a grey sweater vest. And I though my jacket was an antique. The boy had on a white-button down shirt beneath it and wore brown slacks. Scratch that. The whole boy is an antique.

Alfred realized he was being stared at by the other rather intently. He must be pissed. "Real sorry about that," he said. "I was in a hurry."

"I noticed," the other boy stated curtly, standing up with his documents. "You must be Alfred F. Jones, correct?"

"Oh, does my reputation proceed me?" He chuckled. The other boy smirked ever so slightly.

"You shouldn't run in the hall. It's against the rules," The boy advised.

Alfred shrugged, keeping his grin up, "Yeah, I got it... um what's your name?"

"Oh, my apologies," The boy said, balancing his stack of documents with one arm while he stuck out the other, "My name is Arthur Kirkland. Pleasure to meet you." Alfred had to be just hearing things, because the boy's voice almost sounded demure like... he dismissed the thought. That was just crazy.

"Likewise!" He said, heartily shaking the other boy's hand. He shivered. Is it cold? He wondered. Normally he didn't get cold, but the boy's hand was a little chilly. The boy seemed surprised at Alfred's enthusiastic handshake. "Well see you around!" And then he wove around the boy and fast-walked to the office.

Before he was out of earshot of the other, he heard a faint, "See you around, Alfred."

::::O::::

"Everyone! Everyone!" the teacher, Mr. Roedrich shouted, but the class continued talking over him. "I'd like to introduce a new student." They continued until Alfred walked in. The girls stopped, getting that googly-eyed look that Alfred just loved.

Ladies, eat up the view. "Morning fol-," One of his shoes had come untied and he stepped on the lace, spilling forward, he landed splat on the floor. The whole class burst into laughter.

Crap! Some jerk at the back was especially loud, but he ignored him. Not one to let a little humiliation destroy him, he bounced back up, dusting himself off as he pushed his glasses back up and laughed, "As I was saying, the name's Alfred F. Jones and it seems I'm the new class clown!" He threw them a thumbs up. "Here to brighten yer day!"

The mocking laughter simmered down transforming into chuckles and low murmurs. A white-haired boy at the back glared at him. What's his problem?

"Yes," Mr. Roedrich said, "This is Alfred F.? What does the F. stand for?"

"Would you believe Fantastic?" He laughed, throwing some winks to some pretty girls at the who smiled back. Ladies love a confident guy.

"You're Alfred Fantastic Jones?" Mr. Roedrich said, several kids snickered. Alfred was a little stunned the joke went over the guy's head, but oh well. "All right, please take a seat," he said, turning back to the board.

Geez, would it kill him to smile, Alfred thought.

Alfred scanned the room and noticed two blonde girls trying to push a particularly nerdy guy to move to the only open seat in the room which happened to be in front of the white-haired boy who had jackass practically stamped to his forehead. The guy wore cut-up jeans, a black T-shirt that read Eat it! written in green on the front.

"That's okay, ladies," Alfred grinned, "I'll take that seat!" The nerd sank in relief, but the two blonds in the middle of the class gave Alfred a pouty look as he moved down the aisle and plopped himself in front of the albino dude. He didn't bother looking behind him. He could spot a dickwad from a mile off.

"Way to make an entrance, asshole," the boy whispered behind him. Alfred frowned, tossing the boy a glare over his shoulder. Bully. He knew their type well. You had to deal with this type fast or they'd walk all over you.

He pulled out his notebooks and some pens. He started when the Jackass began kicking the back of his chair. Mr. Roedrich never looked away from the blackboard he was writing on. Some of the other students threw Alfred some sympathetic glances but said nothing.

Assholes must pay. He set his pen down and shifted in his seat, glaring at Jackass. "Gotta problem?" He hissed.

"Yeah, I do," The other boy muttered. "Some fucktard is blocking my vision."

"Of what? Your boyfriend?"

"Fuck off," the guy hissed, his red-colored eyes narrowing. Contacts? That can't be natural. "You gotta lot guts new kid," He muttered, leaning forward. "You might wanna rethink your words before me and my buddies scrub the floors with your face."

"You might wanna watch yer' mouth before I kick your teeth in Casper," He retorted.

"You little-" he snapped, shooting to his feet.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Weilschimdt?" Mr. Roedrich asked, turning around.

"No," Gilbert snarled, sitting back down. When the teacher's back was turned, he said in a low voice, "It'll be fun breaking you."

"Bring it," Alfred whispered. Damn, I've already started a fight. His Judo teacher, Kiku, would not be proud.

::::O::::

The jerk it turned out was named Gilbert and he was friends with a group of seniors that called themselves the Bad Touch Trio and they ruled the school. They came for Alfred at lunch while he was putting some stuff in his locker.

If it wasn't for his training, he'd have never seen it coming, but as luck would have it he just heard the screech of the asshole's boot to warn and he ducked to the side, Gilbert's fist smashing a dent in his lock instead.

"Fuck!" the kid cried, holding his self-injured fist. Alfred spun around, finding himself staring at two others. A boy with blonde hair in a pretty frilly outfit and tight-fitting jeans. The other wore cut-up jeans like Gilbert and a shirt with a picture of Spain on it.

"Whatddya want?" Alfred said, crouching down slightly. These guys were pretty brazen picking a fight out in the open. He'd expected them to be more discrete.

"Mon Ami, our friend Gilbert says you were picking on him," The guy smiled and winked. Alfred quirked an eyebrow. Who is this freak?

"Your friend there is a lying asshole," Alfred said, trying to keep his eyes on all of them. Three against one. Pretty tough fight.

"Fuck you!" Gilbert snapped.

"What a waste to hurt such a pretty face," The French guy said.

"This puta madre is dead," The Spanish one said.

As luck would have it, Gilbert charged first and he was the worst of them. Alfred threw his back against his locker at the last second and stuck out his foot, tripping Gilbert and sending him crashing into the Spanish one.

"Ano!" The Spanish one cried as he landed on his back with an "oof", trying to shove Gilbert off. Alfred took his chance and pushed himself off the lockers with one foot, sending his fist straight into the French's guy's face. The guy too distracted by his friend's dilemma never saw it coming. He fell back with a smack against the other lockers, his nose bleeding.

Students started forming around them, chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Alfred was now free and backing up, ready to run when the Mr. Roedrich appeared, worming through the crowd.

"What is going on here?" He snapped, seeing Francis pinching his bleeding nose. Upon seeing the teacher, Gilbert and the Spanish boy collapsed, holding their guts and moaning about how hurt they were.

"He beat us up!" Gilbert said, pointing at Alfred.

"I did not!" Alfred said, "They came after me!"

"Who hit first?" Mr. Roedrich demanded, looking at the other students who the Bad Touch Trio glared at warningly. The students reluctantly pointed at Alfred who grit his teeth at the unfairness. "Mr. Jones, you will accompany me at once to the Principal's office."

"But I was defending myself!" He protested.

"Now!" Mr. Roedrich ordered. Alfred huffed and walked by, seeing the way Gilbert smirked and winked at him. Asshole.

::::O::::

H High was just giving Alfred a new reason to hate it every hour. From teachers who didn't give a damn to prevalent bullying and now this. He was being PUNISHED for having hit first. Who gave a damn that they provoked him and tried to hit him first. No, he was to be punished. The Trio was getting off scott-free while Alfred rotted in detention for a whole month.

No Judo classes, he thought miserably and he would be sent home with a note.

What kind of school was this where they didn't bother looking into the facts? Were they blind to the fact that those three were well-known bullies or were they just cowards? Either way it pissed him off.

"I am very disappointed in you," Said the principal, Mr. Ludwig Weilschimdt. That name is kinda familiar. He was sure he'd heard it somewhere before but he couldn't place it. "I expected better. You have really great marks in your previous school and your teachers heaped on praise."

Yeah, but they didn't turn a blind eye to bullies, Alfred retorted mentally, keeping his arms crossed. They did this thing called investigating. You know, figuring out what actually happened.

But that wasn't even the strangest part of this meeting. It was the fact that in the seat next to him was none other than that Arthur Kirkland kid from before. Turns out he was the Student Council President.

Is it normal for the Student Council President to sit in on stuff like this? Alfred wondered.

"Sir, if I might add something," Arthur said, catching Alfred's eye. He had an expression of don't worry. "Maybe you're being too harsh. Perhaps they did provoke Mr. Jones here first."

The principal kept his angry expression but seemed to stiffen. "What do you suggest?"

"Why not let him off with a warning this time? I will take responsibility for his behavior until he has adjusted to things here," Arthur answered. Alfred blinked stunned at his turn of events.

Even more shocked when the Principal agreed. What the hell?

::::O::::

What just happened?

Alfred walked fast, trying to grasp how Arthur Kirkland had done that. Arthur struggled to keep up, but stayed at his side. He spared the boy a few sideways glances and finally slowed, asking, "So, are you connected to the mafia or what?"

"How do you mean?" Arthur inquired.

"I mean how did you do that?" Alfred said, stopping and facing him. "What did you do save the Principal's life or something?"

"He merely trusts my judgement," Arthur answered, looking shyly away. A faint pink to his cheeks. Is he embarrassed about that or something? "That's all."

"I'll say," Alfred said with a little whistle, he yanked Arthur into a short, one-handed hug, laughing, "Nevertheless, major gratz! Like your the first one to take my side in the whole mess." He let Arthur go who seemed to blush even deeper. What is up with this boy?

"It was my pleasure," The boy smiled and if Alfred wasn't mistaken there was almost a sultry tone to his words. Nah, that's nuts! He shook the thought away. "Those three have quite a reputation. You're the first to openly stand up to them."

"You have to stand up to bullies or they'll pummel you down," Alfred replied. "I didn't want to fight, but I'm not gonna take their crap."

"You aren't scared?" The boy said, it was almost a whisper. His green eyes rose and there was almost a desperation to them.

"Of them, pffft," He snorted, unconsciously taking a step back from Arthur. "I'm not scared of no one."

"That's anyone."

"Whatever! I'm the hero and I stand up to bullies!" He said, jerking a thumb at his chest. Arthur stared at him, that needy look now all over his face. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yes," Arthur said, touching his head, he stared back at the floor. "I've just never met anyone as brave as you. Are you new in town?"

"Yup."

"Are you free this evening?" The boy asked, again keeping his eyes to the linoleum. "I'd like to show you around. You could even visit my home. I have many things to show you."

"Uh, this evening?" Alfred said, removing his hand, he rubbed at his arm, "Bad news. I got Judo practice. Sorry dude."

"What about tomorrow or Saturday?" the boy asked, watching Alfred out of the corner of his eye. Alfred didn't know why but for some reason he didn't feel comfortable visiting Arthur's home. The guy seemed okay, but there was just something... off about him. Almost desperate.

"I'll think about it," Alfred said, grinning, "Let me get back to you. But I really don't want to trouble you."

"It wouldn't trouble me at all," Arthur insisted, but Alfred kept shaking his head and making reasons he couldn't. Something in him felt unnerved by Arthur but he blamed it on first day jitters.

::::O::::

Up on the roof of the school, Matthew smoked a drag while watching the sun set. It looked like an over-easy egg, its yolk ruptured and bleeding out onto the horizon. Up here in this solitude he could sometimes forget what his life had become. The things he had done.

"Slave," came a bone-chilling voice, one that always made his skin crawl no matter how many time he heard it. Dropping his smoke, he crushed with the toe of his shoe and shut his eyes, falling to one knee as he turned around. "Master," he said, "It is an honor to serve."

"My dear boy," the silky voice cooed, "I have a task for you."

"You have but to ask, my Lord."

"Do you know the one named Alfred F. Jones?"

"Yes, the new kid," He said, bitterly. The jerk who trounced my Trio. "I know him."

"I have my eye on him." Poor bastard, Matthew thought.

"Shall the Trio and I approach him then?"

"No," his Master answered, "He would only refuse. He's too much of a hero. If he is to serve me, we'll have to break him first."

Matthew stiffened as his Master's cold hand touched his head, weaving those cruel fingers through his locks. He knew better than to flinch, but he couldn't stop himself from shivering.

"He will serve me in time," the Master continued, "Listen carefully, worm, and obey exactly. For I will have Alfred F. Jones by my side."

"Yes, Master, it shall be so," Matthew agreed. He listened to everything and when the Master was done and gone, he vomited up his lunch. He hated when the Master touched him.

Don't think about it, he warned himself. It was best not to dwell on past mistakes. If he was to survive, he would do as he was told. He belonged to the Master now and very soon so would Alfred F. Jones.

TO BE CONTINUED...

(Sorry you'll have to wait on updates for this one. My main focus is updating "The Lord of Winter")