AN: Too much NCIS. Such a freakin' good show and I'm sorry (somewhat) about neglecting my writing duties. New series this is. No set update schedule (when do my stories have one anyways?), but it's just a collection of one- or two-shots. Not like Untitled. Tt's not in chronological order, different time periods, characters, settings, etc.

|Very Special Agents|

Warnings: AU. France, England, Alfred. Fake!USUK, no real pairings. Human names used.

"There's really something wrong with you." He commented offhandedly, his high-pitched voice cutting through the heavy silence of the psychiatrist's office. He looked through his glasses at his partner, a small smile on his face as he watched that annoyed and flustered look on the other's face. "I mean seriously? You're afraid of butterflies?" Alfred lets out a loud laugh at Arthur's attempt to push him over.

The slighter framed man lets out a huff of breath as he crosses his arm over his chest, eyes looking to the side. "I was climbing up a ten story building's ladder. The butterfly was flying towards my eyes. I could have fell!" Arthur snapped, digging deeper into his chair. He looked at Alfred in confusion, unaware of why he was snickering until he remembered. He didn't answer the question. "I am not afraid of butterflies!" He slugged Alfred for the American was about to laugh again.

His lips pushed into a pout and Alfred rubs at his sore arm. His hand disappears into his heavy jacket, built to fight off the cold of this year's winter, and his blue eyes dart to the side. A small smile blooms on his lips as he pulls out his phone. "You're afraid of butterflies." Alfred states confidently, smile growing bigger as he surfs through his phone's videos. A small 'Ah' escapes his lips and he shoves the screen into Arthur's face, blue eyes sparkling manically.

Arthur watches himself, a close up of his face. He sees the cup of coffee in his hand and suddenly wishes that murder wasn't a crime. Seriously, it was Alfred. Can't they make an exception for him? He ignores the sniggers from the man sitting next to him and watches as his recorded-self screams like a man caught in the act, the loud and obnoxious digital laughter of Alfred, the coffee cup flying up with its contents splashing all over the place, and the butterfly peacefully fluttering off of Arthur's hand.

Oh technology? How can anybody ever live without you?

"Let technology show you the truth!"

"I thought it was a bee! You know that I'm allergic to them!"

"How the hell did you think that was a bee?" Alfred barked out, voice unnecessarily loud. "You're just afraid of butterflies okay? Let's let the people decide." He sang as he waved around his phone like it was a magic wand.

Arthur stared at him in confusion, the last words flying over his head before one of them hit him in the face. And then the others crammed themselves into his mouth. "I, uh, wha, git, wait, what?" He stammered out, emerald eyes large and unmoving, clearly unnerving Alfred who shuffled away from his partner.

Who had a gun.

"You're not going to post that on Youtube."

Alfred shrugged, leaning away as Arthur leaned into his personal bubble, huge eyebrows looking more and more menacing the closer he got. Alfred lets out a nervous chuckle, carefully moving the phone farther away from his partner.

And then he pounced, an angry slur of American and British slangs and vulgarities. Alfred let out a loud squeal of 'manly' fright as Arthur's knee came down too close to his vital regions and the Brit stretched for the cell phone that was just out of reach.

"You wanker! Give me that!"

"Arthur, you're hurting me! I can't breath!"

"Give me that damned phone!"

"Rape! Rape! Murder! Bloody Sunday! Nine-eleven! HELP!"

"Oh wow… you two have deeper issues then we discussed on the phone." Both men stopped in their scuffle, looked up to the new voice, red rushing up to their necks and faces. The psychiatrist smiles amiably at them, pushes back a wavy golden lock of his hair from his face as his blue eyes watch the detectives compose themselves.

Arthur was the first to regain his voice. "O-On the phone?" He questions, eyes avoiding the two blue gazes trained onto him.

Francis laughs, a calm kind of noise as he claps his hands together and moves over to his chair. "Aren't you the darling couple who called me about marriage counseling?" He questioned, his eyes watching them with amusement. It's not often I get a couple this cute. The therapist mused to himself as the Brit seemed absolutely horrified at the notion of being married to his partner.

"C-Couple? Are you on any drugs? Crack? Extacy? How about a hallucinogen?" Arthur snapped, face steadily growing redder and redder. From the embarrassment or the sheer prosperity of the thought, he didn't know. He swallowed thickly, mind racing, ready for more chiding when the Frenchman just laughed. "We're—"

"It's all right."

"Wha—"

Alfred shocked Arthur into silence with the loving gaze directed at him. He was positive now. Both of those blondes were doing drugs illegally. Can he leave now? And maybe get a new partner too? Probably not. He concluded as Alfred drapes his arm over his shoulders and tugs him into the broader chest. "We're in a safe place here Iggy, baby. We can be ourselves here."

Arthur pushed him away when he tried to get a kiss. Alfred pouts at him before shrugging, a carefree smile on his face as he looks at Francis. "Just got back from London. It's pretty over there you know. Ever saw Big Ben?"

"Oh… I saw a Big Ben before…" Francis responds, tipping his head to the side as a lecherous smirk comes to his face. Arthur noticed that lewd look sent his way as Francis says, "Though I have an Eiffel Tower souvenir from my time in France." The Brit forces down the chills that wanted to shake his body like an earthquake. God, he handles with guns, murders, and creeps on a daily basis. It's his job description for God's sake, he can handle a… creepy Frenchman.

A really creepy Frenchman.

Very creepy.

He shakes his head to clear those equally disturbing thoughts and pulls out his badge, flashing it to Francis. "We're not that couple, but we do have a few questions for you. N-C-I-S." He stated as he flips his badge close and slips it back into her coat. "Special agents Kirkland," He motions to himself, "and Jones," He jerks his head at Alfred who cheerfully waved at the other therapist.

"We're very special agents." Detective Jones added with a million-watt smile that could burn out the sun as Detective Kirkland simply rolls his eyes, but he couldn't disagree with that statement. Very special agents indeed…