Disclaimer: I own nothing. ...Oh, you thought I did? Uh. I wish...

AN: This happens way later than the previous chapter, just so you know.

Jerk's Juvenile's Jape

Arthur stares at his fridge with a frown and deep in thoughts.

"What is it, Arthur?" Fainne, a fire fairy, asks him, floating around on top of the fridge, then sitting on it and peeking down to it's door, where Arthur keeps his gaze locked.

Arthur doesn't answer and just keeps looking at it from behind the computer, which he was supposedly using where he sits at the table, using the arms on it to support his chin.

"Aaarthuuuur," Faine insists, and flies to stand between Arthur and the fridge "Is this what's troubling you?" she points at what's stuck on the fridge with an iman "but it's adorable!"

Arthur's frowns deepens and he just leans to his left, so Faine won't block his view.

"This one is you, right? And that one is Francis. And that's-"

"I think fnsnfd just arrived." Arthur interrupts her "Why don't you check if he's at the window?"

Fainne blushes and rushes off to the living room, leaving Arthur alone to his musings.

Arthur suddenly extends his arm to grab the picture, but then retreats it.

He...maybe he should talk about it with someone. Not Francis, obviously, that would be too embarrassing.

He looks at the computer screen once again and decides to stick with the usual plan.

He logs in on Messanger and is glad to notice that the person he was looking for is online as well.

"Hello, Afonso." He says as he types it.

Afonso was one of the oldest friends he had, and he knew he could count on him to back him up since they were young. Afonso had come to university in London and they studied together, but after that he returned to his country, Portugal, where he had been living in since then.

They didn't see each other so often because of the distance between them, but they still spoke to each other regularly via Internet.

'Hey, Artur!'

Arthur's eyebrow twitched, as it always did when Afonso insisted on calling him by the Portuguese version of his name.

'What's the matter? Is that French idiota bothering you again?'

'No, not this time.'

'It's...'

Arthur looks up from the computer to the fridge's door again, to once more stare at the source of his problem and doesn't find it there.

"Where did..."

"Arthur!" Flying Mint Bunny flies into the kitchen, looking distressed.

Arthur's shoulder's drop "It's him again, isn't it?"

"I'm so sorry, Arthur! I tried to stop him!"

Arthur sighs and rubs his forehead, preparing himself for exactly what came next.

"Ahahahah! Look at this, it's Jerk Arthur!"

Arthur, not feeling at all up for those games, returns to the computer again, seeing what Afonso had written meanwhile.

'it's?'

'what? what is it?'

'tell me'

'I demand you to!'

'...arthuuuuuuur~'

Arthur shakes his head and types 'Well, now I can't show you, Peter took it from me.'

'Peter?'

'oh, right, your poltergheist'

'*poltergeist'

He had gotten a low price on the flat he lived in because it was said to be haunted. And from day one Arthur knew it was true. Peter, the poltergeist living in it, had been delighted to know Arthur could see him, and so doubled his efforts to kick him out. From the constant yelling about making the flat his own land and him being the king of it, Arthur deduced that Peter wanted the place free from humans. Especially him.

"Who are these other two? Jerk, you don't have any friends, right?" Peter runs into the kitchen, smiling wickedly as he holds the paper in one hand "And why are you fat dogs?"

"Those are bears, you twit!" Arthur reaches out and takes the paper from him, staring at it once more.

'I got it again.'

'This time it wasn't Francis, but his kid.'

'I thought yu liked him'

'*you'

'He made a drawing. With him, Francis and I. Like the drawings kids do about their families.'

'Except that we're all polar bears.'

'lolololol he adopted you! ahahhaa xDDD'

Arthur glares at the screen before realizing that he has no comeback for that. It did look like Matthew had added him into his small family.

'Oh shut it, you.'

And with that he returns his attention to the drawing. There were three polar bears in it. The first was Francis, with a rectangle with a circle inside that Arthur thinks it's a camera hanging on his neck, besides the girly hair on top of his head. In the middle there's the smallest polar bear, with glasses and a curl of hair big enough to cover part of his face. And on his right there's another polar bear, as tall as the first, with several lines above his eyes that Arthur grumpily assumes it's his eyebrows.

They're all holding hands.

Francis had been as surprised as he was when Matthew gave him the drawing, and they shared a look, agreeing for once on something. This won't do.

Arthur was flattered from getting the drawing, it was, looking at it gave him a warm feeling and made him want to smile.

But Matthew was adopting him, and that would just end up in disaster.

But apparently he had warmed up to the boy as the boy had done to him, because Arthur couldn't find it in his hear the will to stop him.

He doesn't want to hurt him.

Arthur's at loss of what to do.