It is March 11th 2011, 10 PM, and Arthur is ready to strangle someone. It is nothing to do with the date, of course – apart from the fact that is the day signifying the beginning of spring break for teenagers and children alike. In fact, if anything, the day was a fairly good day. Regardless, Arthur is ready to smash someone's face into a wall.

"Does that not bother you?" Arthur growls at his roommate, who is calmly reading his book in the old, worn armchair that looked like it had belonged to the boy's great-grandfather.

Matthew looks up and shrugs indifferently. "He's my cousin. I'm used to it," he replies and returns to his book.

"What language is that anyways? Russian? I don't even understand a bloody word—"

"It's French, Arthur."

"This is Canada – not France!" Arthur yells at the offending wall, where the music is coming from. Matthew rolls his eyes.

"French is one of the official languages," he reminds his roommate and Arthur scowls.

"Why did they bloody do that? Useless language, French," he mutters to himself.

Arthur attempts to back to work but the steady thump, thump, thump is grating on his nerves and after a few small attempts at keeping down his temper, Arthur stands up and walks to the door.

"Where are you going?" Matthew asks, eyes never leaving his book.

"To tell that wanker to put his music down," Arthur replies, throwing the door open and walking into the hallway of the apartment.

He stands in front of room 507 with a scowl on his face. The music continues to go on, blasting out music like no tomorrow. He finally raises a fist and knocks loudly on the door, tapping his foot impatiently as the door stays closed. It's obvious that the idiot who lives in this apartment is terminally deaf because of the annoying music playing.

He waits a good three minutes. It is enough time to hear the song change into something equally annoyingly loud. Thankfully, it isn't in French but it sounds like the trashy music Alfred likes singing [off-pitch, of course] just to piss off Arthur and everyone in the vicinity.

The door finally opens and a blonde man steps out. He is the same height as Arthur but looks a few years older. Arthur almost rolls his eyes at the stubble lining the man's chin and jaw line; if he was trying to seem sexier with the stubble, he was failing. Hard. Nope, Arthur does not find any of that stubble attractive.

"Yes?" the man asks, insufferably polite.

"I'm sorry if you don't realize it, but your music is very loud. Would you please turn it down?" Arthur asks, as politely as he can. The man smiles.

"I'm afraid I cannot. What sort of party would it be if the music was quiet?" the man asks. Arthur grinds his teeth together with irritation. Who has a party on a Friday? The answer is everyone, but Arthur is not in the mood to accept that.

"Well, not all of us are partying. I'm working on an assignment due on Monday and I'd appreciate it if you could just put the music a little lower," Arthur asks, forcing himself to remain polite. Matthew would not appreciate having to bail him out for getting into another fight.

"Ah, school. I remember when I was still in school," the man says with a sigh. Arthur frowns. He isn't interested in this man's pathetic life story.

"Are you going to put the music down or not?" Arthur asks and the man smiles.

"No. Désolé," the man replies flippantly and closes the door. The music plays even louder. The nerve! Arthur growls and swears under his breath before stomping back into his house.

"No luck?" Matthew asks, absently turning a page as Arthur slams the door behind him.

"How do you even tolerate him?" Arthur fumes. The picture [of Elizabeth Victoria Kirkland, bless her soul] hanging on the wall shared between them and the idiot living next door begins to shake from the loud bass beats.

Matthew shrugs. "The music'll die down by 2, knowing my cousin's parties," he replies and closes his book shut. "I promised Alfred I'd pick him up after his football game," he tells Arthur as he stands. "He's probably completely drunk by now, idiot," he adds, rolling his eyes.

Arthur watches as Matthew tosses his book on the coffee table and pulls on a light jacket, grabbing his keys from the key holder hanging by the door. "I'll be back soonish, depending on how easy it is for me to get Alfred into his house," Matthew says over his shoulder and walks out of the house.

This is an act of treason. How dare Matthew leave Arthur to suffer listening to this trashy dance music? To go help Alfred of all people too! Alfred, the idiot who had been Arthur's roommate until he decided he needed his freedom and moved across the street to live in his own apartment. It was treason and Arthur resolves to give Matthew the silent treatment.

The insufferable music is still playing.

It is 11: 34 AM three days later and Arthur returns home, pleased that his classes have been cancelled for the day. As much as Arthur loathes protests and strikes, he is quite pleased that his teachers are protesting the day away. It gives him some time to catch up on some well deserved rest.

As Matthew is spending this free day playing hockey, Arthur decides to play some music to help him relax.

And what better music to relax to than the Sex Pistols? Not quite conventional, but it always does the trick for Arthur.

Arthur presses play on his radio and lets God Save the Queen wash over him as he lies down on the couch. He can already feel his muscles loosening up. He doesn't stop the smile growing on his face as he begins to fall asleep. Maybe later he would go drinking with Gilbert and Mathias, if the latter is back from New York and if the former isn't busy with his job.

There is a loud knocking at the door and Arthur is startled awake. Who could that be? It most certainly isn't Matthew, who always has his keys on him and wasn't even supposed to be back until much later.

As the knocking continues Arthur reluctantly stands up and walks to the door.

Opening the door reveals the blond man from next door, his long hair tied up into a ponytail this time. For once, he doesn't have that irritating smile on his face.

"Yes?" Arthur asks.

"Would it be possible for you to put the volume of your music down?" the man asks. Oh. A smirk begins to grow on Arthur's face.

"My, how the tables have turned," Arthur remarks. "No, I don't think I will," he adds patronizingly, his smirk growing as the man scowls.

"I have a case that I'm working on and I can't concentrate with your music playing so loudly," the man says.

"A case? You're a lawyer?" Arthur asks, surprised. The man didn't seem like the lawyer type.

The man smiles, his white teeth flashing brightly. "Oui. If you put your music down maybe I'll give you a discount in case you ever need legal help," he offers.

"I don't trust lawyers. Or French people," Arthur replies and closes the door on the man's face. Arthur smirks and walks back to his couch, turning up the volume just to spite the man.

Victory felt good.

It is the 17th of March and Arthur is no longer able to tell time. Or walk. Or even talk coherently.

Saint Patrick's Day is Arthur's favourite holiday, and it is not because he is quarter Irish [is he part-Irish? He wasn't even sure of that]. Saint Patrick's Day is the only day Arthur has a valid reason to get completely drunk and not care how stupid he is acting. He to Saint Patrick's Day is like Gilbert to Oktoberfest. Inseparable.

"So I told the bastard that if he didn't leave the house at that very minute, I would throw his piano sheets out the window," Gilbert says loudly, using his beer mug to accentuate his movements. Beer froth spills everywhere but no one is sober enough to care.

"N' what'd you do?" Arthur asks, chugging down another glass and pushing it over to the bartender for more.

"I threw them out the window," Gilbert replies matter-of-factly and Arthur bursts out laughing, laughing more than is necessary for the joke. Gilbert grins cockily and informs the bartender that he is an expert comedian. The bartender continues to ignore him and serves drinks.

Eventually the bar closes and Matthew is forced into driving both men home. Gilbert informs Matthew that Feliks will bitch at him if he comes home drunk so Matthew offers to let Gilbert sleep on their couch. Arthur is busy talking to a flying mint-coloured bunny hovering around his head and misses the entire exchange.

"I feel like SINGING!" Gilbert howls and launches into an off-key rendition of a Ke$ha song. Arthur laughs and joins in and it's a wonder how Matthew manages to stay smiling by the time they reach the apartment.

As they get into the elevator, Matthew notices his cousin walking into the building. He spots the opening elevator and jogs to get inside before the doors close.

"Hello Francis," Matthew greets kindly as Francis steps in. The older man lets out a sigh and pulls his hair out of the loosely kept ponytail. "Hard day at work?"

Francis nods in agreement and lets himself close his eyes wearily. He can't wait until he can close his eyes and sleep.

"HOT AND DANGEROUS, IF YOU'RE ONE OF US THEN RRRRRROLL WITH US," a voice yells out and Francis's eyes fly open.

"Dude, Arthur, you should be on American Idol and shit!" Gilbert howls between laughter.

"But I'm Canadiaaaaaannn," Arthur [aha! So that's the snotty British boy's name, Francis realizes] protests, laughing even louder. "OOOHHHH CAANAADAAAAA," he sings.

"Could the two of you please be a little quieter?" Francis asks, feeling a headache come on. He is starting to regret running to catch this elevator. Matthew shoots him a sympathetic smile and Francis wonders how the timid boy is able to tolerate these two drunks at once.

"Franny?" Gilbert asks with a gasp. "It's been so long since I last saw you!" he exclaims, throwing his arms around the other man with glee. "This is ma best fraand, Francis!" he says to Arthur.

"That bassatardd is your friend?" Arthur exclaims. Francis rolls his eyes at the insult. The elevator makes a noise and the doors open to their floor. Francis steps out first and quickly walks to his door. "Hey, Frenchie!" Arthur calls out. Francis turns to look at the drunken man. "Don't play yer music so loud tonight, k?" he asks before being pushed unceremoniously inside his house by Matthew.

Francis decides to humour the drunken boy and doesn't play any music at all.

For that night, at least.

The next day Francis blasts his music up loud enough to aggravate the hangover Arthur was probably in.

Sweet revenge.

It is Tuesday, March 29th, 5:49 PM. Arthur closes his history textbook with a sigh and closes his eyes. Matthew is at his part-time job and Gilbert is in a feud with his Polish roommate [something about clothes, knowing Feliks]. Arthur considers calling up Kiku but has a distinct feeling that Alfred has probably stolen the Asian boy away for a few hours of video gaming.

He is painfully bored.

There is a light knocking at the door and Arthur stands up automatically. The door opens and Arthur sees his next door neighbour standing there.

"I'm not playing any music," Arthur says without thinking. He blinks and turns red as the older man laughs.

"So you aren't," the man says. "Is Matthew home? My maman sent a letter to him but forgot he doesn't live with me anymore," he asks, holding up a cream coloured envelope.

"He's not right now; I'll give it to him when he gets home," Arthur replies, taking the envelope from the man [what was his name again? Arthur faintly recalls hearing it a week ago from Gilbert…]'s hands.

"Thank you," the man says and the cordialness of it all is about to drive Arthur insane. It's too polite, too weird – too awkward. Up until this point, Arthur's only interaction with the man has been through arguments. "By the way," the man adds with a slight smirk, "I'm having some friends over tonight. I hope you don't mind if I play my music full blast."

Arthur watches with slight horror as the man walks back to his own apartment, whistling.

"I don't see why you're always out to annoy Francis," Matthew says on Wednesday, blowing lightly on his mug of coffee, waiting for it to cool down. He leans against the counter in the kitchen and waits for Arthur's response.

"Francis?" Arthur repeats, throwing out a used teabag. Tea and coffee are the only things Matthew lets him make.

"Our next door neighbour; my cousin," Matthew clarifies and the name finally strikes a bell in Arthur's mind.

"Maybe if he stopped playing his music so loud I'd stop bothering him," Arthur replies and haughtily walks out of the [cramped, small] kitchen. Matthew follows, rolling his eyes.

"How very childish," Matthew remarks and Arthur frowns at him, his large eyebrows furrowing.

"It's not childish," Arthur replies, sitting down in Matthew's armchair – just to spite him. Matthew knows this and rolls his eyes again.

"Honestly, you're 23 and he's almost 30 yet you act like you're both 10," Matthew says, sitting down on the couch.

"What do you know about maturity? You're only 18 – you're barely an adult," Arthur replies, slightly hurt. He does not act like a child.

"I'm 19, Arthur, and clearly I know quite a bit about maturity since I'm not off having music wars with my next door neighbour," Matthew replies and Arthur reluctantly admits that the boy's got a point.

"And what do you say I do about it?" Arthur asks.

"How about not retaliating whenever Francis plays his music loudly?" Matthew suggests.

Almost as thought Francis somehow was listening to their conversation, music begins to play from his apartment, quite unlike the dance music Arthur is used to hearing.

"Is that Edith Piaf?" Arthur asks as Je ne regrette rien pours through their wall.

Matthew looks amused. "I thought you didn't understand French," he remarks, taking a sip of his coffee. Arthur scowls.

"I don't – I just know that song," Arthur replies. He stands up and walks to the radio.

"What are you doing?" Matthew asks warily.

"I feel like listening to something British," Arthur replies and presses play. The Beatles begin to play and Matthew frowns as Arthur puts the volume up.

"This completely defeats the purpose of what I just said!" Matthew says but his voice is lost in the music. "Oh for God's fucking sake," Matthew mutters under his breath. "I'm going to Lars's house," he says loudly and walks out of the house, not even waiting for a reply from Arthur.

Arthur scowls as Edith's voice is suddenly louder than before, covering over his boys' voices with her's. He puts the volume up on his even more.

And more.

And more.

The walls are shaking and Arthur is sure his ears are going to bleed, but feels triumphant all the same. There is no way Francis can top how loud he is.

"NI LE BIEN, QU'ON M'A FAIT…"

"Are you serious?" Arthur howls, turning to his radio to put the volume up even louder. It's at max. Maybe Arthur should invest in some stereos.

He storms out, fully intending to give Francis a peace of his mind and finds Francis already outside, smirking at him.

"Bonjour," Francis says over the music.

"Put your music down!" Arthur demands.

"Quoi? I can't hear you over my music," Francis replies teasingly.

"Put your goddamn music down!" Arthur fumes.

"Perhaps you should think about doing the same thing!" Francis replies.

"But you started it!" Arthur accuses.

Francis smirks. "Are we back in elementary school again?" he taunts and Arthur glares at him.

"HEY! YOU TWO!" a voice yells and the two turn to see their Cuban landlord walking towards them. "I've been getting complaints of music playing way too loud for the past two weeks! If you two don't quit it I'm going to evict you!" he yells.

"But he started—" Arthur begins to say.

"I don't care – settle your issues out yourself!" the man says, storming away. Arthur gulps and glances at Francis. In a quick movement both men return back to their respective apartments and cut the sound.

The sudden silence almost hurts Arthur's ears.

They meet up again outside of their respective apartments, both looking sheepish.

"I suppose we've been acting childish," Francis admits finally and Arthur nods.

"Matthew was just telling me that. I should listen to him more," Arthur replies.

"I think we all should," Francis agrees and the two men grin at each other.

"I suppose this means our little music war is over?" Arthur asks and Francis nods.

"Friends?" Francis offers and Arthur hesitates. He spent a good two weeks wishing the man dead and now…to be friends with him?

"I've never been friends with a Frenchie," he remarks and Francis rolls his eyes. "But I'll try. I'm Arthur Kirkland," Arthur introduces, because it strikes him that he doesn't know if Francis knows his name or not.

"And I am Francis Bonnefoy," Francis says and they shake hands like civilized people.

A stalemate has been established.

It is Thursday and Arthur fishes for his keys late at night. He puts his bag and books down and looks through his pockets for his keys. It's fairly late and Arthur knows Matthew is probably sleeping and doesn't want to have to wake him up by asking him to open the door.

"Long day?" a voice asks behind him and Arthur turns around to see Francis standing there. Arthur nods and Francis gives him an apologetic smile.

Arthur finally finds his keys and opens his door, bidding Francis goodbye as he walked in.

"Wait!" Francis calls out and Arthur turns around. "Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow? Just as an apology for playing my music so loudly," he asks.

Arthur smiles slightly. "Sure. But you're going to pay," he adds and closes the door on Francis's face.

They may have reached peace with their music war, but Arthur likes to think that he has gotten the upper hand. After all, he did have the last word.

Francis rolls his eyes at the closed door and walks back to his apartment with a grin on his face.

They may have reached peace with their music war, but Francis likes to think that he has gotten the upper hand. After all, he did score a date with his cute next door neighbour.

The End.

A/N: Written for the Challenge Cycle for the FrUK community on LiveJournal, I'm terrible at ending stories T_T"

I made Arthur part Irish cuz you know, he represents the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland so I thought he'd have a little of Irish in him xD

Review?