Author's Note: Heya~ This is an AU UKUS fic... I'm planning on making it kinda long so I'm gonna take my time writing it ;3. Anyways, the T rating may or may not change as the story goes on... Just putting that out there. Oh, btw, please don't kill me over the Jackie character, I'm not planning on any of the supporting characters making any real difference on the plot ^^". I wasn't quite sure what genres this specifically fit into so I just tried my best ^_^" (Drama's such a broad category, ya know?). I'm a little worried that it's a tad confusing so if you need anything cleared up, please tell me and I'd be glad to clear that up (as well as fix the actual story). I did a pre-edit on this but I was too lazy to go through it again so if you notice any mistakes please point them out and I'd be happy to fix it! As always R&R. I'm serious. Do it. XD

Alfred yawned and leaned against his locker. It was 7:30am and he was just too tired to pay attention. The hallways were loud with chatter and he could faintly hear the screams of a girl who'd just gotten a latte spilled on her.

"Hey Al! Did you do the homework for psychology?" a student ran up to the blond haired boy, looking desperate.

Alfred laughed. "You actually think I do homework?" he chuckled, grinning playfully.

"Goddammit, I NEED that homework!" the boy ran off in a panic. The chime of the warning bell rang out through the school and Alfred sauntered to class.

He entered the room and sat down, he felt relaxed and peaceful. It was just going to be a normal day.

"Hey Alfred," a cute girl with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes smiled at him sweetly, sitting next to him. "How's it going?"

"I'm great, Jackie!" Alfred gave his girlfriend a winning smile.

"Oh my gosh! I have to tell you what Laney did to Josh, oh God it's so funny!" she put her hands out in front of her and waved them dramatically, her eyes alight with the feeling of gossip.

Alfred didn't give a damn what Laney did to Josh. He hardly knew either of them so he didn't listen particularly hard to the conversation.

"But isn't that just awful?" Jackie stared at him with wide eyes.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Alfred smiled at her and took her hand in his. He saw that she blushed a bit at the interaction and he smiled. They had been going out for nearly two months now but she still managed to blush every time he touched her.

"Say, how about we-" he was cut off as a note was slipped onto his desk from the teacher.

"Go now," the teacher had a bored look on his face, like always.

Alfred blinked at the teacher and got up. "Okay," he said with confusion, he brought his girlfriend's hand up to his face and lightly kissed it like a gentleman would and then left.

"Alfred," the principal sat across from the boy, his head resting in his clasped hands, worry stricken across his face. Alfred beamed at him, oblivious of the look of dread on the old man's wrinkled face.

The old man sighed, deciding that he had to tell him sooner or later. "Alfred, your parents are dead," said the man earnestly, his eyes dead serious.

Alfred smiled at the principal. "Yeah right, sure," he laughed, "so what is this really about?" he grinned.

"I'm not joking, Alfred. Your father and your mother were both killed only a little while ago. You know as well as anyone the risks of your father's particular social standing. Alfred, I'm truly, very sorry for your loss," the principal looked solemnly away.

What the fuck is this? Alfred stared at the man in bewilderment. "What the hell are you talking about?" he shouted, standing up and slamming his hands on the desk. The principal jumped in fright. "They can't just up and die!" he glared vehemently down at the man. "This is just some fucking sick joke," he crossed his arms over his chest, his teeth clenched tightly.

"Alfred! I know you're upset but there is no need for that kind of language in a school!" scolded the principal.

"I can say whatever the hell I want!" snapped Alfred.


"You know, just go and fuck yourself, stay out of my damn business!" without another word, Alfred stormed out of the room.

Alfred ran to his house, he'd completely forgotten about anything prior to what the principal had said. His legs were moving faster than they ever had. It can't be true! Thoughts rang out in his head, jumbled and confused.

Alfred could see his house, he was panting due to running so fast. He immediately knew something was wrong with the amount of police cars at his house. SHIT! He sprinted up to the house, his eyes wide in fear. His heart beat fast in his chest. He was just about to burst through the door when someone grabbed him by the shoulders.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Alfred whipped around and saw a police officer; it was the sheriff. "Let go of me!" cried Alfred, hot tears were stinging his eyes.

"Calm down son," said the police officer.

"Where are they? Where are they?" demanded Alfred, the tears now overflowing, he shook in fright.

"They're gone, son, they've been sent to the morgue," responded the man, looking sadly down at Alfred.

"W-what happened to them?" Alfred was hysterical; he saw spots in his eyes and had to sit down. His world was spinning. He had been numb before. He couldn't feel anything when the principal was talking to him, but now it all seemed so real.

"It appears that a gunner came to your house and shot them both down," explained the man sympathetically.

"Did you catch him?" Alfred's eyes were alight with a strange emotion, he felt lightheaded.

"Catch who?" the police officer looked confused.

"The shooter. Did you catch him?" Alfred looked at the man with an expression of complete seriousness.

"Unfortunately, no, we didn't," the police officer sighed. Alfred's eyes widened and he stood up, staring at the man in shock.

"You HAVE to catch him! What the hell are you doing just sitting around here! Go out and find this man! Bring him to justice!" he shouted, his hands clenched in fists.

"It's not that simple, we have no leads at this point!" sighed the police officer.

Alfred stared at the man, unable to comprehend what he was saying. What? Does he mean that my parents' deaths can't be avenged? he gritted his teeth.

"Ah yes," the officer put a hand on Alfred's shoulder in sympathy. "You'll need to go to the bank to discuss your parents' wills," he said solemnly.

"Oh, I see," mumbled Alfred, the full severity of the situation slowly sinking into his subconscious.

"You best go now, son, there's nothing that can be done here," explained the police officer.

Alfred walked into the bank, a grim look on his face. "Hello?" he opened the door to the office. The man sitting on the other side of the desk smiled at him. He was young, probably in his mid twenties. Of course, to Alfred that was positively old. The man had calculating, ice blue eyes with no warmth in them.

"Please sit down, Mr. Jones," said the man, gesturing towards a stiff-looking wooden chair. Alfred took a seat begrudgingly and leaned against the back of his chair, eyeing the man but saying nothing.

"So, about the contents of your parents' will, your parents left everything to you. However, seeing as you're still a minor, some of these properties cannot be claimed," the man had an unsympathetic look on his face.

Alfred's gaze shot up when he heard those words. "What the hell are you saying! If they're in my parents' will they belong to me!" he shouted.

"That isn't the only thing, Mr. Jones," the man gave Alfred a look that told him to sit down. "Your father's business was failing. You were left the business in his will and therefore you receive the debt that it has accumulated. Mr. Jones this is a large amount that can't be easily repaid. The bank is willing to make a deal. Considering that you are a minor, it only seems fair, that in order to alleviate the large amount of debt that your father has left you with, you relinquish your rights to your owning of some of the properties previously stated in his will and the bank will compensate," the man's eyes glinted.

Alfred wasn't sure what was going on. This man was kind of sketchy looking and he didn't trust him.

"A-and if I don't?" he stammered, his eyes wary and afraid.

"Then you gain properties that you can't possibly manage by yourself, and a $100,000 debt to boot," the man smoothed back his gelled black hair and gave Alfred a daring glare.

A $100,000 debt? Dad, what were you thinking? Alfred lowered his gaze. "What would I be giving up?" he whispered.

"Anything and everything in this will," the man held up a piece of paper and smiled.

"I won't have a place to live! Where will I go? I have no other family," Alfred looked frantic.

"Ah, about that, there is someone that your mother stated in her will, a man, named Arthur Kirkland? Have you ever heard of him?" asked the man, reading off of the paper to get the name right.

"No, I've never heard of him," mumbled Alfred.

"Well, your mother named him as your guardian should this tragedy happen to her. We have made contact with him and he should be here in about a day," the man stood up and took a packet off of a shelf.

"Now, back to business, once you sign this document it gives the bank all ownership of your possessions," the man handed Alfred a pen and smiled. It was a haunting smile, deceiving almost. Alfred took the pen in his hand; he was shaking. So many thoughts went through his mind. I either inherit nothing or I inherit a debt? Is this serious? he stared down at the foreboding line that marked where he would sign. He sighed and a tear escaped, rolling down his cheeks. He pushed the pen down to the paper and signed it, glaring up at the man as he did so.

"You must be pretty proud of yourself," his josh seemed half-hearted.

"I am, in fact," the man snatched the paper. "You may go now," he added, looking over the pages.

Alfred stood shakily up, his eyes glazed over and hazy. "Oh, and Mr. Jones?" the man turned around and looked up at him, cold and icy.

"What?" Alfred wanted to punch this man in the face.

"Here is a way to contact Mr. Kirkland," the man handed him a business card with a phone number on it. Alfred glanced down at it before mumbling a thanks and leaving. It was all happening too quickly. He hadn't even had the time to fully pay respects to his parents, to properly grieve. The funeral would be soon, but those are meant for closure. He hadn't a moment to himself since he learned of his parents' deaths. He stood outside of the bank when the tears finally poured over and he broke down.

"Alfie?" Jackie opened the door to her home and saw her boyfriend. She had heard only a little while ago that his parents had died. He had told her where he was going but she was still worried. "How did it go at the bank?" she hugged him tightly but he didn't even touch her.

Alfred didn't say anything for a few moments, he just looked morbidly down at the ground.

"Ah, well, about that," he glanced away from her. He stared at a portrait for a few moments then glanced down at Jackie. The girl stared up at him in worry. Dammit, I'm making her worry now… He grinned, he knew it was feigned but nonetheless he smiled. "Don't worry about me, Jackie," he laughed, ruffling her hair.

Jackie pouted. "Don't you try and fool me, Alfred F. Jones, I can tell when you're faking!" she snapped, wagging a finger at him. Alfred smiled down at her affectionately.

"I really can't fool you it seems," he sighed. He suddenly remembered the business card. "Oh yeah, this is the weirdest thing, but apparently my GUARDIAN, as if I really need one, is some dude my mom knew. I've never even met him, his name's Arthur Kirkland, isn't that weird!" laughed Alfred, pulling out the card. They walked down the hall toward Jackie's bedroom. She sat on her bed with a confused look on her face.

"That is strange," mumbled Jackie, taking the card. "There's a phone number on here, why don't we give him a call?" she offered.

Alfred gave a squeamish grin at her. "I've been too scared to," he mumbled. "I just don't know if we should," he looked down at his hands.

"Don't be a pussy, Alfred," Jackie rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone and dialed the number. The phone rang four times with no answer.

"He's not there, Jackie," grumbled Alfred.

"H-Hallo?" the accent was distinctly British.

He's British! thought Alfred in shock. "U-uh, hi," he stammered.

"Do you know what fucking time it is?" grumbled the voice.

"It's only like, 11:00pm," mumbled Alfred, his face contorting in confusion.

"No you prat, it's bloody 4:00am! What the hell do you want?" snapped the voice.

"Oh, well, hi, my name is Alfred Jones. My mother was Martha Jones?" Alfred hoped that would jog the Brit's memory a bit. There was silence on the other end. "Hello? Mr. Kirkland?" asked Alfred.

"Is she really dead?" the man's voce was softer now, as if in pain.

"Y-yeah, she is," Alfred wished that Jackie wasn't in the room, seeing him look sad.

"So what are you calling me for again?" grumbled Arthur, he sounded half-asleep.

"U-um, well in my mother's will, you were named my guardian," said Alfred, his eyes wide. Arthur was silent on the line again.

"Hey listen, I'm sixteen you know, so I don't need to be taken care of!" countered Alfred after the silence. "I mean if you're not already coming then don't!" he said, anger rising a bit in his tone.

"Settle down," Arthur's voice sounded irritated. "I'm sure you can take care of yourself, because you're a big boy and all, I don't need that kind of talk," sighed Arthur.

"So what then?" Alfred bit his lip.

"Then if you can care for yourself, go and do it, leave me out of it," Arthur's voice was hard as he disconnected the call. Alfred stared at the phone in shock. That was it? He wasn't even going to care! he thought in bewilderment. He pressed redial with an angry finger.

"Al? You okay?" Jackie hadn't heard the conversation so she looked confused.

"That idiot, who the hell does he think he is," grumbled Alfred, putting the phone to his ear. The phone rang four times, then a fifth, and finally a sixth before it went to voicemail.

"DAMMIT! I know he's there!" Alfred dialed it again.

This happened three times before Arthur finally picked up.


"Just who the fuck do you think you are! My mother named you, and only you in her will, to take care of me! And you won't even give a damn about it!" shouted Alfred.

"You're the one that said you could take care of your damn self!" retorted Arthur.

"I thought that the bank contacted you, that you'd be coming here!" cried Alfred.

"They did, but I didn't say yes! I told them to go fuck themselves, like I'd babysit some spoiled brat!" shouted Arthur, the Brit was obviously upset now.

"You're so selfish! And I'm not spoiled! I had to relinquish all of my belongings to the fucking bank! I've got nothing!" Alfred glared at the wall, his expression serious. "And then they tell me that my guardian is some fucking Englishman? What kind of bullshit is that?" he added, his tone lowering dangerously.

"I'm not flying halfway around the world to pick up some bloody prat like you," retorted Arthur.

"Why my mother even thought about trusting an asshole like you is beyond my comprehension," sighed Alfred maliciously. Arthur was silent again. "I don't even know who the hell you are! Why am I suddenly supposed to come live with someone I've never even met! I've never even heard of you!" Alfred couldn't stop his voice from wavering as tears began to roll down his face. Jackie took his hand and squeezed it in sympathy. "I don't know how the hell you knew my mom, but if you were friends with her at all you'd help her only son out, sorry for bothering you, you snooty son of a bitch," and Alfred closed the phone, burying his face in his hands. This was all too much for him.

Suddenly, the phone began to ring. "E-eh?" Alfred wiped his eyes and answered it tentatively.

"H-Hello?" he stammered, his eyes wide and confused.

"I've got to take a plane so I'll be there sometime at mid-day tomorrow. Until then," Arthur disconnected before Alfred could answer.

"Who was that, Alfred?" Jackie looked confused, she tightly held onto his hand.

"It was Arthur, he said he'll be here tomorrow," mumbled Alfred, tears twinkling in his eyes. "Why does that make me happy?" he cried, sobbing into his hands. Jackie looked confused on what to do, then she patted his head, deciding on saying nothing.

Alfred was beginning to get impatient. He waited at the airport for Arthur but the plane seemed to be arriving late. What the fuck does the guy even look like? Thought Alfred in annoyance. He sat down and waited impatiently, tapping his foot.

"Flight 117 from London, now arriving," said a voice on the intercom. Alfred found himself blushing. This is it! He thought with apprehension.

The passengers came into the lobby and Alfred looked around, wondering if he'd be able to spot anyone that looked like an Arthur. With no luck, he sat down. Maybe he didn't come…

The people in the lobby had dwindled down to only a few remainders. Alfred stood up and gave one last look around. I guess he didn't come, he thought with sadness. "Good riddance you fucking British bastar-" he stopped mid-sentence as he turned to see a man that was standing right behind him, hand stretched out, as if ready to tap him on the shoulder.

"d…" finished Alfred, his eyes wide.

"And you must be Alfred," sighed Arthur, lowering his gaze in annoyance.

"W-who are you?" Alfred had momentarily forgotten why he was there.

"Well apparently I'm a fucking British bastard and I should just leave," grumbled the man, rolling his eyes in chagrin. Alfred surveyed the man, his appearance was nothing like he had expected. Arthur was shorter than him by a few inches, he was petite and thin, almost having a feministic body type. He had messy, sandy blond hair and green eyes that glowed like emeralds. Said green eyes were glaring at Alfred as the boy stared at him. He was much younger than Alfred expected. But there was something unique about him. Alfred continued to gaze at him, trying to figure out what it was.

"Ah!" he pounded his fist into his hand with a sudden burst of enlightenment.

"What is it?" Arthur glanced over at him, obviously already annoyed with Alfred's behavior.

Alfred smiled stupendously at Arthur. "Damn, you've got some big-ass eyebrows there!"