Warning; This story will contain violence, smut, coarse language and homophobic behavior. Please keep in mind that this is all fictional and that the author doesn't approve of such antics. You have been warned. Please keep all this in mind as you read.

It was those eyes. Those lecherous, burning blue eyes that sunk down over the frail, naked body underneath, memorizing, mapping, mentally licking up and down the quivering skin of Arthur Kirkland as he himself panted out in a hushed breath, arching into those lingering touches. His face felt alit with blushing lust. His eyes were struggling to stay open in hope of catching the others gaze, of those blue eyes. It was of vain, for the boys face blurred in and out every time he was to try and catch a selfish glance. Not as if that was his biggest problem at the moment.

His senses were on fire, his body twitching and his voice muttering strings of encouragement as the pleasure coursed through his very being. A hand trailed down the softly defined stomach, slipping down the thin curve of pelvic bones indented at his hips, dipping down to the stubborn problem standing at attention. Arthur gasped, bucking upwards into calloused fingers, whimpering and nodding along to the strokes.

" Y-Yes…~" He moaned, toes and fingers curling into the unfamiliar sheets. A wanton move of his that did not go unnoticed. A smirk was seen. The boy above him leaned down, sucking at the Brit's neck, motivated on by those small noises. Arthur's breath hitched as he moved a hand to the boys head, hesitantly lapping into the blond strands—keeping the boy at his neck. A chuckle was heard as the boy slowly lost his suction. The boy nibbled harshly at the spot, squeezing and allowing his pride to rise due to the rather loud response. A butterfly of a kiss was planted then; an apology. Nuzzling the crook of Arthur's neck now, the boy spoke out.

"What do you want?" He whispered, his voice melting. Arthur struggled to hear him, to recognize the stranger's voice; deep down inside, he already knew who it was. His heart jumped at the hunch, but it felt right; most of all, it felt wrong—exciting.

"Y-You…" Arthur grunted, eyes threatening to close for a moment as the strokes grew faster in pace. Another moan, another smirk. "You, you, I want all of you." He called out, his voice heightening along with the pleasure. The boy's glasses falling askew—wait, since when did he have glasses...! Why did his face suddenly become clarity? Why were those once lust filled eyes become conveyed to tenderness, pain, and gentle want? A free hand moved to cup Arthur's cheek whilst the more preoccupied one flicked and pumped faster. Arthur bit down on his lip, eyes squeezing tighter closed as his body moved obediently to the ministrations.

"Say my name, Arthur. Say my name and I'm all yours." The voice, once muffled, now terribly, horribly vivid called out as Arthur slowly began to reach his peak.


"Why?" He inquired casually, as if none of this was even happening.

"It's…It's embarrassing." He cried, attempting to hide his pleased face. The boy pouted and leaned closer, till their lips were nothing but centimetres apart.

"Say it." The boy ordered that same lust from before returning. Arthur gasped, his breath beginning to loosen as he became undone by the boy on top of him. The hand tugged hard at the hair of the boy as Arthur groaned, eyes opening in a shy manner to meet dangerously deep blue. "Say it." He repeated himself, running his thumb over the tip of Arthur's shaft. Rolling against that hand, Arthur moaned, face as red as roses as he finally nodded. A few more pumps and Arthur was just about there—his body was tense, his stomach tightening the more he held back. Finally, it was too much, and as he came and arched, his voice screamed only one name, the only name that would matter. That one name that was slowly yet surely taking over his life…


Green eyes flickered open slowly. Oh, so slowly to unfamiliarity. Continuously blinking away the sleep and the pain of the light hitting his eyes, Arthur rose up from the bed, wincing from the hangover. He swallowed away a bit of bile, frowning at the acidy taste and how sore, and dry, his mouth and throat felt. Glancing around, he was a bit frightened by how unsure he was of his placing. The room seemed nice enough, a bit secluded, but fair. And then he noticed the American flag tapped across from him—it could only be one guy.

Groaning a bit, Arthur began to shift and try and make his way out of the bed. That is, until he felt a bit of sticky mess against his thigh. Crossing his thick eyebrows together, he flickered his eyes down to the messy and tangled blankets against his lap. He shifted once more, feeling uncomfortable. With slightly hesitant hands, he lifted the blanket up and off his lap, only to gasp.

…Oh dear Lord, he—


Yelping and with impressive speed that caught Alfred's attention, Arthur fought a flush as he placed the pillow he was before cuddling onto his lap and met eyes with the American. Bed-headed and with a cup of what Arthur presumed was coffee, Alfred laughed and walked into his room.

"Why're ya staring at me like you've seen a ghost? Had a nightmare?" He snickered, taking a sip of his coffee. Left without many words to say back, Arthur merely replied back with a disgruntled "Shut up." Alfred continued to laugh before he shook his head and began his way back out with a smirk.

"Hurry up will you? I'll make you breakfast 'cause, ya know, I'ma such a great guy and all."

Glaring at the retort, Arthur threw the protective pillow of his at the empty doorway now and sighed. He couldn't go out like this…

Rolling off the bed, Arthur shivered at the irritating feeling in his pants. O-Okay…Okay, need to search for something clean-. Locating the closet beside the bathroom, Arthur shuffled over and opened it up, searching through the hangers and little cupboards; finding a pair of Superman themed boxers, he held it up in front of himself and shuddered—did he really want to go this far…?

No, he needed to.

But it was so…disturbing…wearing Alfred's boxers—

He had just had a bloody wet dream; he wasn't going to go through that sort of embarrassment!

Sighing to himself, he exited the bedroom, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

Walking up the staircase, Arthur brushed down his matted hair with his hand, looking around as he arrived in the living room. He didn't remember anything; not passing out, not leaving the party, not even coming to Alfred's house. The slight fear of what may have happened the night before trembled in the pit of his stomach, though he pushed it away, assuring himself silently that nothing could have happened—I mean, we were talking about Alfred! The Alfred F. Jones! Why would he ever even consider something like—! Arthur shook his head to himself and wandered around a bit, able to find the kitchen easily, what with Alfred cursing loudly and flailing his arm about.

"Son of a fucking bitch that hurt!" He swore, sticking his waving hand into his mouth, suckling onto his burnt finger and making mock-dry sobs as he glared down at the spitting bacon on the stove. Standing in the doorway, Arthur stared, trying to fight a smile from his mouth. Alfred, who was dancing around in pain, finally faced the Briton and forced a smile around his own fingers.

"Bahy! Yer up!" He exclaimed, paused for a beat to remove his fingers from his mouth and went back to grinning. "Dude, nice hair." He snorted, sarcastically, pointing to the obvious bed head. Covering his hair once more, Arthur glared.

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

Pouting a fair bit, Alfred carefully copied Arthur and covered his own hair before shrugging and going back to attend to what was supposedly their breakfast. Still a bit cautious over his circumstances, Arthur hesitated before walking over to the counter. He hitched himself up onto the high stools, kicking his feet out casually as he spun around it, smiling to himself; when he faced back to the counter, there was Alfred, smirking, holding bacon on a sheet over a plate with eggs. Embarrassed, Arthur quickly replaced the smile with a frown and looked away. He missed the grin Alfred showed to him, thankfully.

With his tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, he slid the plate on his right hand over to Arthur, its break being the Brit's torso. Blinking down in surprise, Arthur picked up his fork and poked at the greasy food with his nose bunched up. Alfred, already beginning on his scrambled eggs, looked over at him in a bout of confusion.


"You cook?" Arthur suddenly said. Now both teens were sharing that same expression of confusion.

"…Yeah…I mean, sometimes. My parents are gone a lot, so I sorta had to learn how to, right?" He muttered, taking a big scoop of eggs and shoving it into his mouth. Not even bothering to wait, he began talking once again to Arthur, this time bits of yolk flying out of his talkative mouth. "I mean, a growing boy can't go starvin', m'right~? Heh…Whatta bout ya? Do you cook?" Wincing, Arthur merely shrugged and went back to glaring down at his plate.

"Y-Yes…Sometimes…not that anyone cares for it, seeing as I'm horrible at it." The Briton added in the last part in an undoable grumble that made Alfred strain to hear.

"Dude, what?"

"Nevermind you!" He huffed, upset and grimacing at the exclamation—the headache was still there…

"Feelin' okay there?" Alfred asked, setting down his fork to pick up his coffee cup and get up to re-fill it.

"Yeah, just a bit nauseas." He concluded, rubbing his temple before taking a short bite out of his food, pleasantly shocked to find it perfectly okay. Delicious even! Alfred shot a sympathetic look of a smile before grabbing an extra cup and filling it up with some coffee, later bringing it over to Arthur.

"'M not surprised, man. You were pree' crazy back there, last night."

"Oh yeah…? What exactly did I do?" Arthur asked quietly, nodding his thanks as he took a grateful sip of the semi-hot black coffee. Alfred chuckled and shook his head.

"Oh God, like, you were just all over the place. Dude, you were half naked and crying and dancing with this one chick, which you later pushed, and then you were making a fool out of yourself in the front lawn!"

"…really?" Arthur breathed out in a sigh, blushing a bit.

"Seriously. I tell no lies~ Bu' don't worry~ I was totally your hero and just came in and swooped ya up!"

"My hero?" Arthur snorted, drinking down his coffee as he cocked an eyebrow. Huffing, Alfred nodded and crossed his arms.

"I'll have you know that I am very well looked up to, thank ya very much!"

"But whom? Those who wish to be by your side for a chance of 15 minutes of fame?" Arthur retorted back quickly, slamming his cup down onto the table, tiny droplets of coffee spilling onto his hand, which he quickly ignored. There was an off silence and Alfred's eyebrows furrowed together, his from straightening as the words sunk in. It was safe to say, Arthur immediately regretted speaking out once again.

"…I apologize." He sighed, bowing his head and frowning at himself, an agitated flush appearing on his face. "With the hang over and all, adding only to the sudden embarrassing debacles I had placed myself in as of last night, I-I sort of just…snapped." Alfred took a moment before attempting his usual façade, clearing his throat first before shaking his head.

"Nah, 's my fault. I get kind of…over confident sometimes, yeah?"

Surprised to hear such a confession, Arthur could only hum in response. For a few moments, the two sat together in a semi-comfortable silence as it flitted throughout between them. Amazingly, it was Arthur who broke the moment.

"So, where are your parents exactly?" He inquired calmly. Alfred tilted his head, thinking for a moment as he adjusted his glasses before grinning.

" They're at a meeting. AA, believe it or not."

"AA…? You're implying—"

"Alcoholics anonymous; yuuup. Man," He sighed, glancing away from Arthur as he spoke. "I remember when they both used to drink—completely different people, yeah? Dad always was sorta scary when he drank, 'nd Mom always just didn't care. They would drink, and some nights, it'd be fun! They'd blast music, dance around, yell and kinda make fools of themselves; I was only really little when they drank. Other nights, they'd yell at each other and fight—sometimes I wouldn't see them until really, really late at night since they'd storm off after one of their fights…

"Still, in the morning, when I supposed to be getting ready for school, I would have to take care of them myself. I'd usually be late for school, sometimes properly dressed or not, with a lunch, or not.

"It was then my Grade four teacher noticed somethin' was up with me. She started getting curious, all that shit, and 'ventually she called home, at a very bad time at that." He shrugged, finally meeting his eyes with Arthurs. "Long story short, she helped get them into AA, and now they run the program and practice the twelve steps with old members or even new." He finished off with a grin. Arthur stared at Alfred in awe, almost like he didn't recognize him; Alfred just wasn't acting much like his usual self! He nodded after some time, and hesitantly, smiled back at the American.

"I'm really glad to hear that. You sound like you care about your parents a lot." Alfred's grin grew only more so at that, and he nodded like a mad man.

"Y'can say that I'm a family sort of guy…~ I don't know where I'd be without them all." He sighed in content. Arthur chuckled and nodded once more; it was sort of nice finding out more about the ever so infamous Alfred F. Jones. He was scary, and posed a threat, but perhaps, deep down inside, he was merely confused…?

"And what about yer family?" Alfred inquired, breaking Arthur's thoughts. Swallowing down the smile that was on his face, Arthur shrugged and picked up a spoon, turning to absentmindedly stir his coffee as he spoke.

"I have many brothers; my mum is the only one in the family that is a girl. I'm the second youngest in the house hold and let me tell you, living with my brothers was a nightmare of sorts that lest lightened to a dream until finally, finally, after years of staying at home, most of them left to continue their schooling or even off to get married! I tell you, living with only two brothers now is much easier than before; as for my parents, well, my mum doesn't have a job—she stays home, cooks for us, cleans, typical housewife things. She's really lovely though.

"My father on the other hand, is a professor at the University here. He teaches English literature studies and Asian Pacific studies as well; he's also in charge of the exchange throughout the school. It was because of this job that we moved here to the states.

"To be honest, my father really is an inspiration for me; he's the reason I read so enthusiastically. Because of him, I know what I want to be in life."

"A professor like him?" Alfred interrupted, smiling as he listened on.

"No," Arthur allowed once more a small smile to trickle up his lips. "An author."

"You can write?" Alfred exclaimed, grinning now.

"Well…Only on my free time." Arthur blushed, tousling his own hair in thought. Alfred settled back down into his own chair and laughed.

"Dude, that's so awesome!"

Unable to control himself, Arthur chuckled along with Alfred.

September came and passed, Arthur luckily now settled within Le Monde Academy—he distracted himself with immersing into the library whenever he had a spare, checking up with Kiku (he still believed that the other had certain assumptions about himself) and meeting with Francis in secrecy. As for Alfred, as the months passed, him and the other had gotten closer, and closer, and closer; by the time December had finally came and the air had chilled around the campus, Alfred and Arthur could be seen so much as walking together to school, their uniforms traded over for the thicker variety, with their blazers done up and scarves tied around their flushed necks. As you could see them passing, smiles could be seen on their face.

It was December 1st, and as Arthur was explaining his attempt at cooking Birds Pudding for his ill mother to Alfred, he was pulled aside by a strong hand, causing him to stumble and nearly fall.

"W-What the fuck was that for, you bastard?" He swore, glaring up as sadly familiar arms of one Frenchman wrapped around him to help him steady on the frosted ground.

"It was not I who is the clumsy asshole." He snouted, tugging at the others scarf and huffing back at the Briton. Growling, Arthur pushed against him and straightened himself up, frowning over at Alfred.

"Pardon me, Alfred? You will 'ave to excuse Arthur for simply one moment; I need to speak with him!" Francis called out, already grabbing Arthur once more and dragging him in the opposite direction as Alfred and the entrance. The American snorted, laughing at his friends misfortune before stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking back into the entrance way.

Meanwhile, Arthur was grumbling significant swearwords over to Francis, calling out for him to let go, as he could walk by himself perfectly well, thank you. However, the other merely ignored him and continued stalking his way through the diminishing crowd before finally finding a secluded looking walk way, which led to the theatre entrance; thankfully, empty this first block.

"Arthur," He started out quickly, his voice hushed. "Something 'as 'appened."

"Look," Arthur held up a hand, frowning. "I understand that you told me not to interact with Alfred, however you haven't seen the other side of him! He's…different away from his friends." Francis threw his hands up in the air and groaned.

"Forget about your stupid boyfriend—there are more important matters to worry about right now!" He raised his voice, his face stern. Arthur blinked a few times in surprise before sighing and crossing his arms.

"Fine, you have my attention; what's up?"

"There 'ave been rumors about you…Easily said, they are implying that you are indeed 'iding something from everyone, and many 'ave a 'unch as to what it is…"

Suddenly, Arthur's mood disappeared and his arms began to drop, his face becoming almost a mixture of shocked and disbelieving. "W-Well…What do they imply, exactly…?"

"What do you think." Francis stated, his face becoming solemn as he watched Arthur shrink into himself.

There were many moments before, "Shit…!"

"Tell me about it! I 'ave been worrying so much that my own 'air 'as started to grey!" Francis cried, grabbing a few strands of his seemingly perfect blond hair and leaning forward so that he could shove it in Arthur's face. "Look, look! Do you see what you are doing to me?"

Arthur's face turned back into a scowl and with his hand, he quickly slapped Francis upside the head. "I do not care for your bleeding dumb hair!" He yelled, beginning to pace for only a few steps as the stress began to get to him. "Francis, I don't think you comprehend the true meaning of this; someone out here in the school has gotten the idea that I am gay; if they find out it's true and decide to tell others, I may never step into Le Monde ever again!"

AN: I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS BEING SO FUCKING LATE; hospital reasons, blah blah blah- long story short I'm all better now so |D back to updating. This chapter was the death of me and I'm so happy it's finally done. I'm sorry if it was too...terrible for those to read- leave a review for me so that I know what I could have done better!