Sophomore Slump or Comeback of The Year

Pairing: USUK (AlfredxArthur)

Jinxx Draconett


'Why the fuck did I agree to come to this?'

The crowd screams as the excited players begin to chant on the field. The squeals of the boisterous cheerleaders slam into the eardrums of a young gentleman in the front row, annoying him immensely. Jade green eyes twitch in aggravation as a particularly loud shriek hits him.

'Friggin' loud banshees. The lot of those underdressed bimbos.' Arthur Kirkland thinks maliciously. His dark scowl suits his thin, chapped lips well. His aggravated look, the one he has spent the past 16 years of his life perfecting, glares up at the dark clouds above. The lines in his frown deepen as rain begins to fall, dampening his wild sandy blonde locks and leaving splatters on his black trench coat. Shivering, he wraps the fabric around himself to maintain heat. Arthur sneezes as he witnesses a clad of black and white begin to group around a single player, screaming and ripping off their soccer jerseys.

'Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!' they shout, hoisting their star striker in the air. Sky blue eyes meet ivy green ones from their throne in the sky, and Arthur can't help but grin at the pearly whites that stare at him.

'You did well.' he mouths, chest full of warm pride.

"Thanks Artie!" Alfred F. Jones shouts back. The Brit watches as his American friend is slowly levered to the ground and has his shirt yanked over his head.

"Idiot," Arthur murmurs fondly as he watches the golden haired teen run around the field and howl with the rest of the soccer team in the pouring rain. He bites back a laugh as he witnesses over half of them fall into a muddy heap from slipping, excluding Alfred of course. The player has enough sense to run back to their team's bench and pick up his things.

Arthur taps his foot impatiently as Alfred gathers his items. What is taking him so long? Does he want Arthur to walk home without him? He won't wait for him forever!

Arthur's scowl turns into a twisted grimace of pure loathing as a boy from the crowd taps Alfred on the shoulder. He watches as Alfred and the boy converse much too closely for his liking and laugh. Who is the mysterious blonde haired wanker in the bleachers? Arthur doesn't know him, and he knows practically everything about Alfred.

They are best friends right? They knew each other's friends and enemies by heart. Key word?


Arthur tries not to look nonchalant as Alfred approaches, the blonde boy hanging off his arm with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Can you go home by yourself for today Arthur? Me and Tino need to go somewhere."

"It's Tino and I you git!" Arthur exclaims, stabbing all traces of hurt in his gut.

"Do what you want. I am not a child." His voice remains as strong and strict as it is usually. He most definitely isn't affected by Alfred's statement. "I can find my way home just fine."

The American grins and ruffles his hair. He scowls and fails to rearrange his mop of unruly spikes just as his friend says,

"Great! See you tomorrow then!"

"Goodb…"Arthur's voice fades as Alfred and Tino run out of earshot.


That isn't the sound of his heart shattering. That definitely is not the sound of his heart shattering. Dejectedly, Arthur makes his way to the northern exit and does his best not to turn and stare at Alfred and his new friend. They are just friends, right?

Suddenly, in a panic, Arthur whips around to find Alfred's arm around Tino's waist. A slight rage builds up inside him…then it cools. It's fine. He doesn't really care. They probably are just friends. No, they are just friends. There was no bloody probably included.

"That does not look like just friends to me mon ami."


Blue eyes swivel to meet Arthur's with an impish gaze. The Brit turns red, out of fury and embarrassment for the fact that he voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Amore-frappe."

Arthur resists the urge to yank his frenemy's silky, blonde ponytail out of his head and instead, slaps the other's hand away from his waistline.

"What are you doing you bloody wanker?"

"You're angry aren't you? Is this jealously ebbing from your pores?"

The teen reaches out and caresses his face with an almost ridiculing smile on his face. Arthur swiftly steps back, looking like an aggravated kitten.

"What? No! Rubbish! I'm not his girlfriend or anything! Why in the world would I be jealous?"

Arthur is turning redder by the second, and Francis acknowledges this fact with pure glee. The Frenchman smirks and snatches Arthur's umbrella out of his hand. When the roof of the device is properly propped up, Francis grasps Arthur by the wrist and leads them out of the field.

"You are jealous. You simply refuse to admit it." He boldly declares as their shoes splash in the puddles on the sidewalk. Arthur's normal facial shade and scowl have returned.

"I am not. Alfred can date whoever he wants. We are just really good friends. If he wants to screw around with guys then let him! I have no objections. It's not like I'm homophobic."

"I never said you were."

Francis' amused smirk and sly glance were enough to send Arthur into a void of untamable rage, but he maintains his gentlemanly composure, gritting his teeth all the while.

"You implied it," he says sullenly.

"No, I implied that you hold envy. They are completely irrelevant yet relevant to one another. Like distant cousins non?"

"Don't speak in riddles you little contradiction! I am not envious! I have no idea how you derived that from my actions.

"I never said you were envious, I said you were jealous. Ohohohoho~"

Arthur's blush returns and dyes his entire face red. Francis draws in close until he can whisper into Arthur's hair.

"You like him don't you?"


The traffic light pauses, half green, half red. Pigeons slowly turn to stare. The rain stops and people stare at them through the window of their cars. Arthur reddens as little kid stops his bicycle ride just to stare at the two. The Frenchman throws his shoulder length locks back as he laughs skywards. Arthur, already reaching his limit of embarrassment, drags the giggling lunatic across the street. When they have successfully crossed, life returns. People bring their heads back into their cars, the pigeons continue to roam the streets, the flashlight begins to blink normally and the little boy rides his bicycle again, although he is eternally scarred.

Francis continues to hoot and chortle, much to his companion's disdain.

"To answer your question; No, no I do not 'like' him in the way that you imply."

"Oh vraiment? Vous êtes dans le déni." Francis laughs as his native language slip from his lips.

"Do not worry. I will assist you in getting your best friend back."

"I don't need to get him back! I still have him!" Arthur says heatedly, affronted by the very thought. Francis sends him a half-lidded, sideways stare.

"Do you not remember the fight you guys had at the end of seventh grade?"

The British man falls silent at this.

"The two of you were absolutely raging at each other from what I hear. I was not in your class of course, but the word travelled pretty quickly. Alfred completely revolted against you did he not? He found a new friend that time too. Do you want that to happen again?"

"…No." Arthur grumbles, the very memory souring his mood even more. As if sensing this, Francis chooses to make his escape before he is forced to face a depressed Arthur.

"I shall call a few people and see how they can help me fix you."

"What is wrong with me?"

"Everything." Francis replies without skipping a beat.

" We will probably meet and thoroughly discuss in our lunch period tomorrow. Make sure that you use your manners Arthur." He winks and leaves the security of Arthur's umbrella.

"Wait! Francis! Why are you helping me? Are we not still enemies?" Arthur knows that his words reach the Frenchman, but the other only chuckles and sends him a backwards wave.

"Je le fais parce que c'est son souhait." Arthur hears. He curses when he realizes that it's the other's native language.

"Damn French bastard. He could at least have the courtesy to say it in English."

In a rage, Arthur runs to his house before he is completely dampened by the rain. As he stands under his ledge, he can hear his brothers laughing inside with his mother. Francis' evil smirk comes to mind as he hears his devious older brother, Draco, snickering.

When Francis smirks, interesting things are to happen. But whether or not Arthur will benefit from these things is unknown.

Yes! November is over and I finally get to post this! This is going to be my little pet project for the year. I really like the concept and so I really want to see it through.

A few notes my dear readers

-I want reviews for critique. Devour my writing, spit it out, and complain about all that I did wrong. Don't flame. Just critique. I'm sure you all know the difference between one and the other.

-Somewhat slow relationship development. I'm not going to hook them up by the 10th chapter. Sorry. It's too unrealistic for this AU and I absolutely hate this kind of relationship rush in a fanfic.

-No smut. I'm under the age of 16. The most I can do is a heated make-out scene. I hate teenage sex too. *shrugs* Go figure.

-Have fun reading it. I want you to enjoy this fic. My goal is to make you laugh more than anything else. Angst doesn't play a major part in this story. (Who needs angst when you have a Punk! Arthur?)

All other notes can be found on my profile page. If you have any questions, you may ask them in a review or a PM. I'll answer them all on my profile page.