Warning: A lot of Profanities and grouchiness. Also, POVS switch every few paragraphs. This is an literature RP.

Alfred looked at the poster on the notice board for the third time that day, and sighed. The poster was for the school's Annual ball next week, something he's absolutely horrified of. Well… Not completely. There's food, for one. But he just can't help but shudder at the fact that he had to wear suits... And dance. Man the only moves he knew was stumbling about and probably accidentally pushing something down.

He sighed again.

Arthur sighed at the 2 page-long list. There was so much to do to prepare for the School Annual Ball. So much to do, so little time. Curse Feliciano and his planning, you can't simply plan for the Ball to be 2 weeks after the examinations and expect everything to be done!

Deciding to leave the poster alone – along with looming thought of the upcoming ball, he turned around and walked down the school's empty corridor. It's already pretty late and the school's pretty much deserted. He had some after school activity, so staying back was inevitable... Oh well, not everyone can be lucky on the same day.

As he was nearing the student council's room, however, he heard some muttering... Swearing, to be precise. He stopped and wondered about why the person in the room was still in school.

"FUCK!" Arthur dropped all the papers he had been filtering through, the sheets fluttering down like leaves. He clutched his hand in pain. Bloody paper cuts. He sucked the blood out and then gathered the fallen stack of paper.

The Briton stifled a yawn. God, he was so tired after such a long day of council meetings. All because of this stupid ball. The more he thought about it, the stronger his objection towards such an unnecessary event became. Seriously, what was the use of this? "Perhaps it's just to make everyone out of love hurt even more," he muttered to nobody in particular.

Alfred laughed a little on the inside as he heard the little explosion inside the room. With that thick British accent, there's no doubt that Mr. grouchy Artie was sitting in again. He took his phone out and looked at the time, 4.50. The school gates closed at 6, so he's got at least an hour to mess with the guy inside.

He'd heard a lot about Arthur. Well, mainly negative comments though. Stuff like the guy's got really bad temper issues, way to strict to take a joke, and definitely the worst person to befriend or even talk to. But personally, he's never really interacted with the Brit. Well... he's seen him around the school ground a few times. ... And among those times, that seemed to always be frowning. His huge eyebrows all knitted and stuff... He found it really funny.

Thinking that it's about time he test the stuff he's heard about Mr Grouchy Artie, he grinned to himself in anticipation as he slipped his phone back in his pocket, and approached the room.

Arthur's acute hearing caught the sound of laughter coming from the door. He turned around, a scowl already on his face, ready to welcome the person who had ruined the peace. His eyes glinted with the intent to kill when he saw Alfred Jones saunter in. The bloody git was a human boombox that wouldn't shut up due to the loss of a switch.

"What do you want, Jones?" The Briton seethed, fingers fumbling for something that he could use as a weapon to throw at the American just in case. His item of choice happened to be a stapler.

Alfred wasn't sure if going into the room was a good idea anymore... Especially when the guy in front of him was holding a stapler... In a stance he was way too familiar with- a stance a footballer would do before throwing the ball. (American Football)

"Woah, dude. Chill!" Alfred said as he immediately raised both his arms in a surrendering position. "I'm not here to assassinate you or anything, so you can drop that weapon of yours." He suggested with a beam. Girls all fall for the beam.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, gripping on to the stapler even tighter than before. Fucking Alfred and his fucking smile trying to fucking seduce him - okay he needed to cool down. A gentleman throwing profanities and staplers around was purely unacceptable...okay maybe throwing staplers around was acceptable. He ceased the thoughts filled with vulgarities, but held on the stapler. Self-defence was a completely acceptable reason to be holding a weapon.

A smile tugged at Arthur's lips as a beautiful plan formed in his mind. "Weapon?" He commented innocently. "How could such a simple piece of stationery be a lethal weapon?" The Brit continued on to analyse it. "Unless..." he looked up at the American, still feigning innocence, "You are...afraid?" He layered the last word with malice, eyes practically glowing dangerously.

Okay, Alfred could have sworn that the gun in front of him just turned from murderous to plotting to innocent in split seconds. He's gulped; perhaps today was not a good time to make a new friend...

But the hero wouldn't quit. The words 'give up' don't exist in his dictionary. Maybe because 'give up' was a phrase instead of a word... Anyway.

"Me? Afraid?" Alfred laughed. "Dude, the hero's never afraid." He took a discreet deep breath, readied himself to duck if needed, and casually strolled into the room. The Brit's glare followed him.

He plopped himself on a chair in the room and made himself comfortable. If he was going to get murdered by a stapler today, then he might as well make his last moment a comfortable one. "Anyway, You can just call me Alfred." He smiled, more to the friendly side this time, and offered his hand.

Arthur caught how strained the self-proclaimed "Hero's" laughter was. It was literally in his blood to smell fear. Most likely a trait inherited from his great-grandfather, a pirate from the golden ages.

So much for telling the school you're a hero, eh Jones?

He kept his innocent stance, smiling even wider. He stopped himself from scoffing at Jones. A self-introduction? As if anyone in the school did my know him. He was the perfect example of an abuser of the ability of speech! Arthur ignored the outstretched hand and gripped his stapler. "Arthur Kirkland, pleasure," he replied, trying to be civil. He allowed sarcasm to drip from his words. The American was too bloody dense to figure it out anyway.

Alfred heaved a sigh of relief in the inside when Arthur shook his hand. That's a start... Right? Oh well, he's not going to be defeated by the guy in front of him. In fact, becoming friends with the person in front of him might even help him with his already loud reputation in school.

Great. Friends they shall be. Or at least, what he hoped for them to be. It sounded better than being killed by a stapler.

"Nice to meet ya, Artie." He grinned again as the Brit's huge eyebrows knitted in that familiar way. "Just curious but, why are you still in school at..." he looked at the wall clock in the room... one that resembled a small Big Ben. "5.10? Is there really that much work for the school council?"

More importantly however, what was the American's ulterior motive anyway, if the bloody git was capable of critical thinking. Arthur almost laughed out loud. Alfred Foster Jones? Critical thinking? Yup, the stress from planning the ball was taking a major toll on Arthur. He definitely needed a cup of tea to soothe himself later.

Alfred was going to pretend to ignore the fact that Arthur didn't quite sound enthusiastic about their whole conversation. It's not like the guy's annoyed by him or something, right?

"I could ask the same of you," Arthur asked in reply. "And the name's Arthur, not Artie, or whatever funny petname you have in store for me."

"Hey dude I totally asked you first." he complained. "But seeing that I'm obviously the more awesome guy here, I'll start. I ran a little late for football practice today, so coach had me run rounds. And… That's basically it. Your turn." He said as he stood up attentively, looking at Arthur with anticipating eyes.

"Who are you to complain here?! I asked you what you were doing here first, Jones, going down to technicalities, thank you very much." Arthur snapped. He noticed that puppy-dog stare from the American and exclaimed "Bloody hell enough with the eyes!" He was really reaching his breaking point with Alfred. Fucking American — let's not go back to that.

"Anyway, if you absolutely must know, I'm stuck here planning for this stupid ball that you stupid teenagers are so excited about due to your raging hormones," Arthur replied with distaste blatantly glazing each word. Put your index finger and thumb together as if you were rubbing your fingers. Now pull them ever so slightly apart till they are barely touching. That was how close Arthur was to throwing the stapler.

"Oh, the ball." Alfred laughed at the part about raging hormones. Its like the Brit in front of him thought that everyone in school's eager to get laid.

...Well maybe Arthur wasn't exactly wrong. Alfred himself knew some people who's more than eager to get a girlfriend.

"Hey..." Just then, the mention of the ball struck a spark in Alfred's mind, a spark that's gonna become a one way ticket away from the ball, the stuff suits, and the stupid dancing. "How about, you just cancel the ball?"

"What?" Arthur did not see that coming. So much for expecting the American to go on about his date. "W-Well…" Arthur honestly did not even consider it at first. He didn't know what to think. He could have just given up… no. That's irresponsible. Gentlemen aren't responsible. "It's highly tempting, but no." Arthur didn't even watch the American's face fall.

"I'm just one person. This is just my own selfish desire. It should not come in the way of what, 200 others enjoying their ball. I hear students chatter about it every single day to the point it gets annoying, but it shows how excited they are. I suppose almost everyone looks forward to making memories."

Arthur found a warm feeling in his chest, a warm feeling called newfound motivation. He felt like he could do anything in the world now, all because of a bloody Ameri— hold on. What? Alfred, making him responsible?

Arthur, you're drunk. Wake up you arse.

"Everyone but me." Alfred muttered under his breath in a pout.

"What's so fun about a ball anyway? You just come in a stupid tight as hell suit that make you more silly than a clown, then take millions of years finding a dance partner, only to embarrass yourself, trying to dance in front of others anyway." he shrugged. "Why can't the school have something more casual? A ball's way to grand and formal and stuck up if you ask me."

Alfred's brain raced as he ranted about how ridiculous the ball was, and that's when it hit him; why did they have to hold a ball anyway?

"Hey, can we hold like, a casual and relaxed party instead? you know, one that doesn't include dancing." He suggested, completely ignorant to the fact that he might have stressed way too much on the dancing part.

Enough to cause suspicion, of course.

Arthur blinked. That was too much to digest, or at least more than he had expected from Alfred anyway. Why was he expecting things from Alfred anyway? It wasn't as if he gave any fu— oh for the Queen's sake enough with that word.

ARTHUR KIRKLAND STOP ABSORBING YOURSELF WITH THOUGHTS YOU BLOODY ARSE JESUS CHRIST PEOPLE WOULD DEEM YOU INSANE FOR TALKIN TO YOURSELF

"Well… I suppose it's for the memories." Arthur sat down on a chair and nestled the stapler in both hands. "Enjoying the feeling of a first love. Embracing how magical being in love is. Celebrating being able to find love for the first time, celebrating how high you feel because of it

"I guess it's all that. Something to look back at. All these fussiness, finding a partner, finding a suit, learning how to dance… all these things seem so important now. Yet, in the near future, or even 10 years on, it will seem petty. Something to have a little chuckle about. Yeah. Memories."

"You don't seem like one to enjoy happy memories." Alfred remarked without thinking." You know, you with your constant frowning and all."

It might be the setting sunlight peeking into the room from the windows, but Alfred could have sworn that Arthur's expression turned soft as he talked about love, the fuss, and basically about memories. He could be wrong, maybe he was wrong.

But for that split moment, Arthur looked quite... cute, actually.

Alfred took a second to think about their interaction from their first exchange of words. Sure Arthur's... quite a lot on the mean and unwelcoming side, but now, he's pretty sure that the school's theories about him were mostly wrong. The guy's definitely got a stuck up his ass, but he's not a complete asshole. At least not now.

"But learn to dance eh..." Alfred repeated Arthur's words in a mutter, wondering if he should follow it. There's still a good two weeks to get started, so if he want to, he could probably do it...

"Say Artie, do you by any chance know how to dance?" Alfred asked.

He was hoping that Arthur would say no, so he could perhaps go ahead and ask the guy to go join a dancing class with him. It's always better to have someone fail along side you, they could laugh at each other, then help each other out. It's a flawless plan.

Well. Unless Arthur actually knew how to dance...

"Well… I suppose I still have it in me…" Arthur trailed off before the gears in his mind clicked.

"IS THIS SOME BLOOD METHOD OF SEDUCTION YOU BLOODY GIT."

"Wha- Seduction?!" The word almost sent Alfred falling back on his chair. "W-why would I even do that?! This is our first time talking!" Alfred stuttered, he could feel his cheeks turning hot, but he's gonna blame it on the light. Yep. Definitely the light.

Arthur swore his cheeks weren't on fire. At least not like the American's. The bloody GIT was an apple. An apple. Arthur clutched his weapon of mass destruction again and stood up, pointing the thing in accusation. "How am I supposed to know, git?"

"Wh-whoa! Dude! Chill!" Alfred found himself in the familiar surrendering position as he sunk deeper into his chair. Honestly now, who made it even legal for this guy to own anything sharp or hard?! This guy could easily kill someone with those things!

"Okay, okay. I got it! You know how to dance! Now chill. I have absolutely no intent of seducing you.. Or whatsoever." He had also came to the conclusion that Arthur had never actually talked much to people, maybe except for work and meetings. But that's not the point.

"So you know how to dance, eh?" He clarified with a disappointment too hard to hide. He was honestly looking forward for a pal in the dancing class... Maybe he should just scratch the idea and bail the ball. Not show up or something.

"I suppose." Arthur said warily. A random thought of kindness suddenly decided to stride into his brain. "Would you like me to teach you...how to dance I mean."

He had better not regret this.

"H-huh?" Hearing the offer, Alfred found himself surprised and out of words.

... Did the guy who was going to kill him just a second ago... Offer to teach him how to dance?

"…never mind forget I said anything." Arthur wanted so badly to take back his words. So much for trying to be helpful. He looked up at the time to provide himself with a distraction.

Fuck. It was 6.10pm.

A/N:

This is a kind of fan fiction where we've finished the whole thing and it's going through editing. Therefore, if chapters don't come in...we're still editing ._.

Thanks so much for reading this! We hope you enjoyed this, but it's only the beginning ;)

Do drop a review if you have the time, we'd love to hear from you! :D

~KokoKuma