"Staff announcement; Arthur to tills, that's Arthur to tills, Thank you."

Fantastic.

Arthur stood up from his seat in the staff room and went to put his book back into his work locker; putting the key in his trouser pocket, he left the small littered room and made his way down the corridor to the stairs. Just four small flights of stairs were between him and the ground floor of his workplace, he descended them without even a glance to the elevator next to them. That damn lift had broken down so many times that no one even bothered to use it anymore, besides, the flights of stairs really weren't very large at all and it was due to pure laziness that anyone used to use the contraption anyway; in his opinion, the stairs were faster and better for you. He never really gave a toss about the malfunctioning lift in the first place.

He quickly reached the ground floor and signed himself back onto his shift, his measly fifteen minute break officially over; turning the latch on the door, he crossed the threshold onto the not so busy shop floor. He walked briskly through the shop, past rails of clothes and stands for scarves and jewellery, cleanly avoiding large old women with trolleys and stiffly walking past bustling teenage girls who stood gossiping in the middle of the aisles; walking through essentially the whole of the clothing section of the shop until he reached the line of tills to the right of the entrance (if one was coming into the shop). He gave a short smile to the supervisor on the first till as he walked to his station, logged in, and pressed the call button.

"Cashier number 6, please." Said the pre-recorded nameless male voice and the queue shifted; a middle aged woman came up to his till and placed four male shirts on the counter as Arthur gathered and opened a small plastic bag.

"Thank you for waiting." He said politely with a courteous smile; small and a little forced if he was honest. He wasn't really one for smiling; however, he also wasn't one for giving bad customer service. A simple small practiced smile was all that was needed to make the customer feel comfortable and that's what he gave; of course if he was engaged in conversation he would respond accordingly, some people feel better to be talked with so they're not just standing around awkwardly, others want to unload certain thoughts or events that have happened to them and of course he would listen, didn't have much of a choice really.

Thankfully, this woman busied herself with the small items hanging from smaller rails by the tills as Arthur scanned her items; he wasn't really in the mood for talking today.

"That's £26 altogether then please." He said in the same polite tone, the woman nodded and got out her purse; Arthur didn't really know why she hadn't busied herself getting prepared to pay rather than looking at other items. "Do you have a store card at all?" he asked as she was digging around, she answered in the affirmative and produced a black card which Arthur took and swiped on his till, once it had accepted the little credit card like piece of plastic, he handed it back to the woman who then flashed a debit card. He typed the appropriate keys on the till and carried on with the dialogue he knew off by heart.

"Ok, put your card in…" she put the end of the card into the small machine on the counter, when it showed up on the screen, he pressed a couple more keys, "And pop your pin in for me please…" she did so and after a moment the receipt came out the top of the till. He took what the shop needed and printed the rest of the receipt. "Would you like me to put the receipt in the bag for you?" he asked, already opening the bag because most people said yes, the woman was no different. "There you go, thank you very much." He said with his small smile and the woman voiced her thanks and left with her items; Arthur put his part of the receipt into the draw under the till, like he had to every time someone used a card, as he did this, he pressed the call button again.

"Cashier number 6, please."

Every customer was pretty much the same and he had memorised what to say in the first hour on the first day he worked there; that was two years ago now.

Open a small or large bag.

"Thank you for waiting."

Take out the coat hangers and put them in the large cardboard box under the till to be recycled; unless the customer asks to keep them, in which case take them out and put them to the side, ready to put in the bag last.

Remove all alarm tags so they don't set the doors off.

Fold the clothes and put them in the bag.

Tell them how much it costs.

"Do you have a store card at all?"

"Yes." Take the card and swipe it.

"Yes but I don't have it on me."

"Would you like me to look you up on the system? I just need you surname and postcode." Take the information and get their loyalty number.

"No I don't have one/ I need a new one."

"Would you like to sign up today for free/ for a replacement?"

"Yes." Give them the form and temporary card.

"No thank you." Carry on with purchase.

Take their money or card and get receipt.

"Would you like me to put the receipt in the bag for you?"

Put receipt in the bag or give it to the customer and hand them their items along with any change if they need it.

"Here you are, thank you very much."

Not the most exciting job in the world but it put bread on the table, and there were much worse jobs he could do. He certainly didn't love his job but by no means did he hate it either; it was just something he could do easily to earn money, nothing to take home to do afterwards, leaving him time to relax with books or a good film. Yes it was boring at times and his feet hurt after a particularly long shift, but hey ho, that's life.

His days went on like this four times a week, thankfully today's shift was almost over, the break he just had was his last, so he only had an hour left before he could go home and have a well deserved, and needed, cup of tea; this thought kept him in a good mood until he heard snickering on the till next to him.

"Oi, what are you laughing at?" he muttered under his breath as another customer left with their bag; his manager adjusted his ponytail and tucked some of his pale blonde hair behind his ear, looking at him sideways waggling his delicate eyebrows.

"Someone's popular today~" came a smooth French accent, Arthur's lip curled upwards in slight disgust and raised a not so delicate eyebrow in turn.

"Wot?" he hated his manager; hated him with a passion. Francis Bonnefoy had moved to the UK ten years ago, yet he never even had the decency to get rid of his appalling accent; the ditsy "exotic loving" girls went nuts for it so he had kept his accent like the attention seeking bastard he was. In the true British fashion, Arthur had hated his guts unconditionally from the moment they met, however by that point, he had already been hired so there was no backing out of his employment. He grabbed another plastic bag and opened it roughly as the man snickered again, turning to his own customer. As Arthur tried to ignore his arsehole of a manager, he turned to the young woman who approached the till; however when he did, his eyes locked onto something past the woman's face and into the stationary queue.

In the middle of the long, unmoving queue was a man who was a good deal taller than most of the young and middle aged people around him; he wore a pale blue hoodie, carrying a bundle of casual, short sleeved t-shirts. His sunny blonde hair was swept to the side and slightly obscured a pair of wireframe rectangular glasses; clear blue eyes were staring at him. Just staring. Standing there, his head turned to look directly at him; just standing there, staring at him.

Arthur found it quite unnerving to say the least, the look was incredibly intense, and by the way the Frenchman beside him was now holding back his laughter with some difficulty, he had noticed Arthur's realisation; he tore his eyes away from the man a second later and tried to focus on his current customer. He put her items in the bag

"Do you have a store card at all?"

He took it, swiped it, and glanced up for a split second.

He was still staring at him;

He gave the card back, took her cash, opened the till draw, got her change, went to get her receipt, his eyes flickered back to the queue.

He was still staring at him…

"Shall I put the receipt in the bag for you?" he asked, put it in the bag, handed it to her, "Here you are, thank you very much." He looked to the queue as he pressed the call button.

He was still staring at him…!

"Cashier number 6, please."

A couple more customers passed his way as the queue slowly moved; Arthur tried the best he could to concentrate on the people he was serving but every time he looked up, his eyes would find that same young man just staring right at him. He tried to calm himself down. He was just looking at the products that were shelved behind Arthur on the wall; yes, that was it! Maybe he wanted to buy a box or a cushion and was looking at which would be best for him, yes that was it; that was his story and he was sticking to it! But the intense way in which the man was staring, it really was unnerving; he almost looked like he was in disbelief. His eyes were ever so slightly widened and his brow faintly furrowed, almost in determination, his lips formed a hard line, like he was deep in concentration; Arthur prayed to any God that was listening that he wouldn't have to serve the man. He thought he had been heard as his customer left and there was one person in front of the blonde man in the queue. However it seemed that God was out that day because as he pressed the call button, Francis' customer also left and the old woman went to his manager instead, finally snapping the young man out of his concentration and causing him to beam as if he was the happiest person on earth as he tottered over to Arthur's till. Despite the sweat that Arthur could feel threatening to break through his skin, he gave a small polite smile and opened a bag as the happy man placed his tops on the counter.

"Thank you for waiting."

"No prahblem!" he said with a huge grin.

Wait, what?

Arthur blinked and started to scan and fold the shirts the man handed to him, glancing up he noticed the man couldn't have been much younger than him, however he gave off an absolutely exhausting vibe; he was smiling far too happily and if he didn't know any better, he would think that the man in front of him was practically bouncing on the spot. He heard a large intake of breath and readied himself for whatever the customer was about to say, so much for a peaceful end to his shift.

"I've never been in this store before! I'm really glad I came in now cause I saw you- y-" he stuttered and Arthur glanced up, raising an eyebrow; the man quickly recovered, clearing his throat, it appeared that something must have got caught. "YOUR, Your SHIRTS! They're really cool shirts! I never knew you guys liked the US that much! There's the flag and stuff everywhere!" he laughed a little too loudly.

Oh GOD…

'No bloody wonder…' Arthur thought in despair, he thought he knew that accent; no wonder the man was so obliviously loud and shameless… he was AMERICAN! Keeping very firmly in mind that he was on the job, he kept this expression under control, though his tone was noticeably more curt than he would normally speak.

"Yes, though you'll notice the Union Jack dotted about the place as well, along with other nation motifs; it's a theme that's been rather popular since the whole Olympics season. Patriotism and all that." He said with a small smile, resisting the very powerful urge to put the stupid man in his place. The American didn't seem to read the atmosphere at all and he just kept on smiling that too happy smile.
"Oh yeah! Yeah the Olympics were awesome! And we won too so that was cool!" Arthur's eyebrow twitched.
Oh HELL no.

Arthur would be lying if he said he wasn't patriotic, he wasn't nuts about it, but he was certainly proud to be British; this American was undoubtedly pushing ALL the wrong buttons, and the worst of it was he just kept SMILING. Was he making fun of him or something? This time, the tall blonde seemed to realise what he said and quickly stuttered to try and redeem himself. He failed miserably. "B-But you guys came third so hey! That's cool!" Arthur could only offer a deadpan expression as a reply, his voice matched.

"Do you have a store card at all?" finally, the man was stunned into silence at his tone and the smile dropped slightly.

"S-Store card? What's that? Do you need one?" Arthur gave a small, silent sigh; the man before him wasn't the first person who had ever asked that question, and he definitely wouldn't be the last, but for some reason it just made Arthur more irritated. Maybe it was because this meant that he had to spend more time serving the annoying American. He picked up a spare store card he happened to have on his till and leant his elbows on the counter to show him, his feet hurting a little too much to keep standing straight; though it was also because this man obviously didn't care about proper behaviour whether working or not, so Arthur could relax his posture slightly.

"Well, no you don't need one, it's not necessary, but it certainly helps if you do have one." He showed him the black card, about the same size as any credit card, on the back was a strip (so it could be scanned) and some writing and on the front there were white numbers printed on the black surface; also printed was the name of the shop. Arthur continued with another script that he had learnt long ago. "If you have a store card then it entitles you to offers in store, it allows you to have discounts and we give you a £5 voucher on your birthday. It also entitles you to this lovely catalogue so you can shop online; along with this it also gives you a discount on your first order if you do choose to shop online." He patted a small pile of catalogues on the counter, then showed the American the front of the card. "This is your loyalty number, if for any reason the card doesn't swipe due to a till malfunction or an old card, we can just pop this number in the till and it'll recognise it. If you lose or forget your card we can look you up on the system by taking your surname and postcode and looking you up on the computer; you can then apply for a replacement card and we'll give you a temporary card to use in the meantime." He put the card back on the till and continued, not really caring if the man was listening, people very rarely did, or they just forgot right afterwards. "Also, if you want to make a return, but you've lost the receipt then you can give us your card and we can see if you made the purchase and used you card, we'll then be able to give you a refund." He stood up straight again. "Would you like to register for a store card today? It's completely free of charge." The man pondered for a moment.

"That sounds pretty cool…" he said under his breath, then looked up with that all too happy smile. "Yeah! Sure why not!" Arthur sighed a little and took out a form from a pile beside the till, tearing off the right bit and handing to him. "Here you are, just fill out the 'New Customer' section and we'll be able to post your card to you."

He hoped that at this point the American would apologise and say that there wasn't any point because he'd be going back to his country in a week or something; sadly, he just grinned and took the form from him and smiled at it, then he looked back up expectantly.

"Can I fill it out now?" Arthur's shoulders dropped slightly and he gave the man a pen that was on his till; again, there was nothing wrong with doing the form right then and there, many customers did, in fact it was preferable for them to do so. For some reason though, he just wanted the man to leave, he just wanted this shift over and done with so he could go home and forget this whole ordeal. The blonde American took the pen happily and started writing his details, then he stopped as if he remembered something and dug around in his pocket, he produced a parking ticket.

"Do you guys validate parking?" he asked with a grin.

"Have you done all your shopping within the hour?"

"Yep! This was the last store I came to! Just got in the parking lot."

'I don't care…' Arthur thought sourly, trying to ignore the Americanisms, but he jumped at the opportunity to get away from the man for even a second; he took the parking ticket from him and gave his small smile.

"Ok, you fill out that form and I'll go do this for you." He said politely as he turned and walked down the line of tills towards the little machine on the desk by the wall; as he walked away from the till, he also managed a subtle, smooth kick to his manager's shin, who was also smiling far too much for his patience. He put the ticket into the small machine and waited for it to spit it back out again, then he took it back to the till, the American by this point had just about finished filling out his form; when he put the pen down he rooted around in his pockets again and pulled out two £20 notes, handing them over. Arthur thanked him and opened the till; gathering the man's change he moved the bag across the counter slightly. "Would you like me to put the receipt in the bag for you?"

"Uh, yeah sure go ahead!" Arthur did so and gave the American his change, he then took the form off him and from the part he ripped off before, he folded and ripped the scored line of a temporary card; he handed the bag to the taller man and then showed the little rectangle of smooth, flimsy card.

"You can use this in the meantime, just bring it in next time you come in store and you can use it as many times as you like until your card arrives, then just throw this one away."

"Awesome! Thanks a lot for all your help!" the American took the card and grinned widely; Arthur cleared his throat subtly, sweet God, that accent was really grating on his nerves now; 'Please leave…' Arthur begged in his head, he smiled shortly again.

"Have a nice day."

"Thanks! You too, see ya!" and with that the tall man waved and left the shop, grinning his head off.

Thankfully, there were no customers around to see Arthur fully kick his still chuckling manager in the leg.

"And YOU! What were you playing at! That whole horrid ordeal could have been easily avoided!" he spat under his breath so he wouldn't be heard by any customers.

"Ah but I had nothing to do with it." The Frenchman said smoothly, ignoring the throbbing in his leg in favour of looking suave. "It was purely by chance of fate that you came face to face~ though you know how I adore watching you squirm." This earned another kick to the leg and clip round the ear, the other staff on tills avoided the two men smoothly, this outbreak of violence a common occurrence. Francis nursed his leg as Arthur began to sort out the cash in his till; a devilish smile spread across his face. "You should be thanking me, you certainly were popular, though maybe you should ask someone else to validate his parking next time~" the Englishman turned and narrowed his eyes.

"What are you blathering on about now?" Francis waggled his eyebrows for a second time.

"A certain someone was AWFULLY interested in your derrière…" he said somewhat suggestively.

"Wh- -" his eyes shot open as realisation hit him, his cheeks turning a dark pink despite himself; only a moment passed before Arthur harshly punched a key and logged off his till, storming passed the Frenchman still leant on the counter. "I'm going on Recovery for the last ten minutes of my shift." He muttered, turning back to Francis harshly. "Do your damn job and get rid of those coat hangers!"

Arthur hated Recovery, he didn't like the idea of crawling around on the floor picking up other people's mess, things they were too lazy to put back on the correct rail or even in the right aisle; he didn't usually do Recovery because of his shift times but he would rather do anything than be on tills with Francis right now, especially after his last customer. Yes, Arthur hated Recovery, but he supposed it didn't really matter, because he wasn't going to do it anyway; his shift ended in under ten minutes, it would probably take that long to get to the staff room and get his stuff together. No one would care, he had stayed passed his clock out time before, now he was making up for lost time; he would sign himself out of his shift and out of the building at five o'clock and finally go home. His cheeks still burnt as he hurried up the stairs; he hoped above all else that the tall, blonde American would never cross his path again, especially when he was working.

Sadly, fate never really seemed to give a toss about what Arthur wanted at all.

Right! So, there we go! Chapter one done!

I apologize for the boring first chapter, and for the repetitive way in which Arthur works, and for the huge amount of exposition with the shop's polices X'D

I wanted to show the monotonous pace at which Arthur lives his life (that's broken by Alfred turning up). This is going to be quite long and I'm not sure what to rate it because I'm not sure where I'm going to go with it. But we'll call it teen for now.

I hope you enjoy it, as this is going to be my first try at a proper USUK fic :3