A/N: This fic contains nyo! and fem! characters, so, for your convenience, I'm adding a list of names here at the start.

Genderbent characters: Alice/Artie (England), Françoise (France), Julchen (Prussia), Isabella (Spain), Monika (Germany), Sakura (Japan), Chun-Yan (China), Hera (Greece)

Non-genderbent characters: Feliciano, Lovino, Alfred, Ivan, Matthew, Allistor (Scotland)


"What's wrong with Artie?" Françoise's words were demanding as she stared down her friends in the school cafeteria. "He's adorable! I don't see why you guys don't like him!"

"He's grouchy and a hard-ass," scoffed Julchen, running a hand through her thin albino-white hair.

"Not to mention a bully to some," Isabella mused. "And I don't think he thinks too highly of our group. He only hangs out with that Asian girl and the jock."

As per usual, the trio collected their lunch trays from the cafeteria ladies, and headed to their table. It was second break, so they had one more period before home time. They were three-quarters through the school year now; the last year for Françoise's grade. That meant just one thing for the school's most popular trio of girls. Prom.

"You two aren't looking on his good side," the French girl protested as she sat down, fiddling with one of her curls. "He's really nice to the people he can stand, and when he gets embarrassed," Françoise cooed, cupping one cheek in her hand. "When he gets embarrassed, he gets so red and flustered, and he's just simply magnifique! And his eyes are this wonderful shade of green, and his face is just so beautiful-"

"Whoa, get out of dreamland, Françoise." Teased Julchen, giving her friend a soft shove. "He's a dick."

"Not very nice to talk about classmates that way, Julchen," a new voice chimed in, coming from a boy as he sat down at the lunch table. His seat was beside the girl he had addressed.

"Hey, Pancakes, I'll say what I want about him." She smirked back, curling an arm around her boyfriend's shoulders. "'Cos he's a dick, and that's the truth."

"You know I'll tell Alfred and he'll get real mad at you," Matthew chuckled lightly, picking at his lunch. "You know he's head over heels for Artie."

Françoise let out a puff, glancing away and mumbling something to herself.

"You look bothered," laughed Isabella, through a mouthful of salad.

"Yeah, well," she mumbled in reply, before turning to Matthew. "Your brother's never gonna get with Artie, cos Artie's not gay, okay?!" she insisted, determined that Artie's affections would be only for her in the future. Maybe if Matthew told Alfred this, he would get discouraged, and leave Artie alone. Ah, but that was just wishful thinking on Françoise's part.

"And you know this how, Françoise? It's not nice to assume things about people," Matthew chuckled, amused. He and Alfred had been friends with Artie since childhood, so he figured that he knew a lot more about the Briton than Françoise did.

"Call it intuition." Françoise pouted, having not even touched her food. "You know what? I'm gonna prove it! I'm gonna ask him to prom." She stated bravely, bobbing her head.

"Since when were you so thick in the head?" Julchen sneered, laughing openly. "He's totally not the prom type. I bet he's planning to just stay home and read or something, what a nerd."

"He isn't a nerd, either, Julchen," she scolded, crossing her arms. "And he's going to come with me to prom. Just you wait."


"And then she's like, 'Alfred's never going to get with Artie, because Artie's not gay!'"

Artie burst into soft laughter at Matthew's re-telling of today's lunch break – he even did the accents.

"On top of thinking you're a boy, she sounds like she's crazy for you, Artie," Matthew finished, smiling a little.

"Ah, I see. Françoise is.. uh, a little arrogant for my tastes, even if she is beautiful." At the moment, she was at he and Alfred's house, visiting after school as she did every few days. She and the Jones brothers were very close, almost inseparably so.

"I can't believe you still stay with that bloody lot when you could be sitting with us," she scoffed, leaning back on the couch a little more. Tomboy or not, she refused to sit with Françoise and her group, despite the offers that had been made. She would much rather sit with her few close friends, the Jones brothers, and Sakura. Well, it was just Alfred and Sakura now, since Matthew had jumped ship after Julchen asked him out.

"Love it or hate it, Julchen's got a way with words." He shrugged.

There was a cry of 'Alice!' from the doorway downstairs, and Artie just groaned.

"I have a nickname, so use it, dolt!" She called through the house. As if she had just summoned him, Alfred appeared at the stairway, dressed in football gear and smiling like an idiot.

"But you're my Alice in Wonderland!" he smirked, dumping his bag and striding forwards toward the couch. Matthew just laughed to himself.

"Welcome home, Alfred."

"You'll never let that go, will you? That's one of the reasons I go by 'Artie' now," she grumbled. The nickname had come from when the three of them were only small, from when Alice would read the novel of Alice in Wonderland to the brothers, doing the voices and everything. She had always been a touch more mature than the boys, and she had learned to read at quite a young age. Alfred and Matthew had been entranced in the story, Alfred more so than his brother. At some point, he managed to confuse the Alice in the story for the Alice in real life, and kept warning her about falling down the rabbit hole.

"Nope, and you'll always be my Alice," grinned Alfred, reaching a hand down to ruffle Artie's pixie-cut blonde hair.

"Ugh, you stink," she wheezed, batting his hand away.

Alfred groaned, and just threw his arms around her in protest. "I did just get back from footy practice, give me a break." He whined, pouting.

"Go and take a shower, or I'll never talk to you again." Artie threatened, raising a thick brow. Zipping his lips, Alfred let go of her and dashed off to do what she had instructed.

"You sure know how to get him to do something," laughed Matthew, entertained by their shenanigans.

"He's not that hard to get through to once you understand how he talks." Artie mused, smiling slightly. "Knowing his language doesn't make him any less annoying, though."

In Matthew's recount of today's lunch break with the girls, he had kept quiet about Françoise wanting to ask Artie to prom, feeling that it was something Françoise would kill him for if he told. It was probably better if Artie didn't know in advance anyway, he decided.

A few minutes of peaceful chatter passed, and Alfred came out of the bathroom in a fresh set of clothes. Sighing contently, he wandered back over to the couch and pretty much collapsed onto it, face pressed into a cushion.

"You forgot to flatten down your hair, dimwit," Artie scolded, glancing down and stifling a snicker at Alfred's freshly-blow-dried hair. Seeing as Alfred just grunted tiredly, she shrugged and patted it down gently. "What a disaster, Alfred can't even smooth his own hair anymore."

"He's getting old," Matthew joked, patting his brother's shoulder. "He just can't do things like he used to anymore."

"Hey, you guys," Alfred bleated, rolling over so that he was looking up. "I'm not that old, don't be so mean." He puffed, to which Artie just laughed softly.

"Is that a grey hair?" she pondered, smirking.

"No, it's a blond one," quickly replied Alfred, too weary to go on with the joke. "I'm pretty beat from football practice, and I kinda got pummeled, so don't be mean to me today." He whined. "My everything hurts."

Artie just sighed and rose to her feet. "I'll make you some tea, you big fool." She mumbled. "You'd better not ever get injured too badly. Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not saying it because I'm worried, I'm saying it because I don't want to have to help you hobble around if you break your leg or something." She muttered, sour as she moved off to the kitchen.

"Can you make it a coffee instead?" Alfred called, rolling over so that he was laying on his brother and using him as a pillow. "And sure, I know you love me deep down, Alice!" Her laughter could be heard from the kitchen downstairs.

While Artie was out of the room, Alfred rolled off of Matthew, and pouted. "Hey, bro, d'ya think, if I asked her, Artie'd go out with me? .. Or at least to prom or something?.. Since it's coming up, I mean." He asked quietly. He only ever called her Alice in person, as it was a nickname used to playfully tease her.

"Don't ask me, Alfie," Matthew sighed. "I have no idea how women work. Probably less of an idea than you, even though I have a girlfriend." He laughed softly, flicking an errant curl from in front of his eyes. Gently, he reached out a hand and patted down a bit of Alfred's hair that was still sticking up. "Just do what you think is right."

He felt quite worried now. Françoise and Alfred were both had dear Artie in their sights, and it would end up being a matter of who asked first. The one who had been too late would be hurt, and either way, it kicked Matthew in the shins. Brilliant.

"It's not that easy, Mattie," he whined, turning as he heard Artie re-enter the room, toting a tray with some refreshments.

"What's not that easy, do tell?" Artie scoffed, placing the tray on the room's coffee table, and taking a seat back on the couch. She made sure to sit to the side of the brothers, instead of accidentally on part of one of them.

"There's this one move in football, where you-"

"I've heard enough," she interjected, picking up the cup of tea she'd poured for herself and taking a sip. "You Americans and your 'football', and your damned 'soccer'," she mumbled under her breath. Well, they don't get much more British than Artie Hugo Kirkland.

Alfred scooted over a touch, glancing into each of the cups.

"Uh, which one's mine? I can't tell.." he asked quietly, looking over to Artie for a moment.

"This one, it's orange tea that I brought over and hid in your pantry last week." She mused, pointing to one of the cups.

"Not a coffee?"

"Do I look like a maid to you?"

For a mere few seconds, Alfred gave himself the liberty of imagining Artie in a cute maid's dress, but scolded himself for thinking of it. "Uh, sorry, no," he laughed, shrugging.

"Matthew, yours is a coffee with maple syrup, just as you like it." Artie smirked, handing over the appropriate cup. He took it and nodded in thanks. Alfred looked wounded.

"So you make him a coffee, but not me?" he grumbled, although he wasn't truly angry.

"He's not a loud and ostentatious bastard most of the time." With this, she lifted one hand and poked Alfred's nose accusingly with her index finger. "Drink up, mister Yankee."

"You're so mean," he puffed, sticking out his tongue, conceding, and going to pick up his tea cup.

He almost dropped it when Artie changed the subject all of a sudden.

"So, I've been thinking about prom," she started, causing both of the boys to tense up (for different reasons, of course.) "Maybe I'll take Sakura, as a friend." She chuckled, amused at the thought. Sakura was a polite and quiet girl, and she was damned adorable on top of that.

Alfred put his tea cup back down, wondering if Artie would force him to drink it in the end, even though he didn't fancy the taste of tea. "Nuh uh," he smirked, feeling his confidence rising. "Sakura's got a girlfriend, remember?"

"What balls, since when?" Artie asked, in a state of disbelief. "And if she does, why would she tell you and not me?"

"Uh, because I'm cooler than you," he winked. "You know Hera, right? Moved over here from somewhere in Europe?"

"The girl with the cats, right?" Matthew chimed in, as he shared a class with the girl.

"Yeah, the one always falling asleep in class. They're a thing now, Alice." Alfred beamed, increasingly cheery.

"Well, I'm all out of plans," she yawned, finishing her cuppa and leaning back on the couch. "Maybe I'll stay home and re-read The Philosopher's Stone."

"You can't do that-" the brothers both chimed in at the same time, causing some state of suspiciousness in Artie.

"Uh, I mean, prom is a once in a life-time thing, Alice, and you've gotta seize the opportunity!" Alfred insisted, nodding. That was a quick save, good for him. He was curious as to why Matthew had thought the same as him, but he would leave finding out that answer for later.

Artie sighed and rolled onto her side on the couch, so that she was facing Alfred. "Prom is dumb anyway." She pouted, glancing away. "It's just an excuse for all the pretty girls to show off just how beautiful they are in their expensive dresses and hired limos." She muttered, looking as if she was about to become ill.

"No, no, it's way more than that." Alfred insisted, reaching over and ruffling Artie's hair in an attempt to lighten her mood. "It's just a night to have fun and dance with someone you care about. It's not about anyone else other than you and the person you take with you," he carried on, smiling a little. He frowned as he noted the morose expression that his friend wore, though.

"I should probably go home now," she murmured, changing the subject. "Allistor will tell me off for being late if I stay any longer. Enjoy your tea." She pouted, stood, and made her way down the stairs.

"Fuck," Alfred whispered after she left, biting his lip. "Mattie, did I do something wrong?.. Shit.." he mumbled.

"Just don't be too hard on yourself, bro." Matthew sighed, shrugging a little. "Seems to be a bit of a sensitive subject, so try and dodge it when you can?.. I don't know, sorry."

"I've still got to ask her, y'know?.."

"She's coming over again tomorrow after school, so you could ask her then?"

"I guess I'll have to." Alfred gulped. "I don't know if I'll get another chance."