Story Introduction:

New story, new introduction. Hooray!

So, this fic is AU, where everyone is human (so sorry to say), so human names will mostly be used. This fic probably won't be for everyone as I'll have some pairings and some characters in roles that well, I dunno, aren't exactly the most popular? But hey, you can't please everyone, and I write this for my own amusement first and foremost. So yes… expect a bit of OOC-ness, but done intentionally. Otherwise I do try to stay true as I can while butchering someone else's work. XD

Rated M for a reason folks, and yes, there shall be some male x male lovin' here (and some npc fems thrown in here and there). Not this chapter, but later, later.

Enjoy!

Gallery Nine. If you were anyone who even remotely set foot into the city, then you sure as hell had heard of it. Even if you were from the neighboring city, you knew of it. Gallery Nine was the sort of establishment that people made a point of learning about. You simply weren't in 'the know' if you didn't know about Gallery Nine, you weren't a part of 'the scene'. The movers, the hipsters, the hot topics… they all knew about Gallery Nine, and they'd all been there. Oh, you haven't gotten into Gallery Nine? Well, not everyone can be cool. The world needs rejects, after all.

It wasn't just a club, though the bright kaleidoscope of colored lights inside painted a vivid picture and sparkled across the main dance floor. There was music, there was dancing, and there were hot music stars gracing the stage almost nightly… yet that wasn't the draw of Gallery Nine. It was more than a place to dance, and it was more than a place to get drunk. The bar dazzled the eye with its multicolored shelves of the finest alcoholic beverages, bottles and labels spanning the globe with bartenders so versed in drink they could make you anything your heart could desire. The bar, the dance floor… those were only the first level of Gallery Nine, and if you'd only been to the bottom floor, you hadn't really been there at all.

Gallery Nine was a world you could turn to if you were looking to find a companion. The second floor of the club was devoted to the fulfilling of dreams, to the bringing together of people and desire. Private rooms of all decor and theme filled the second floor of Gallery Nine, and whatever your fantasy was, the 'hosts' of the Gallery were there to provide it for you. From quiet honest companionship to deliriously deviant dalliances, the second floor offered it all to those few precious patrons allowed up. The opponents of the Gallery, those closeted conservative valued warriors would say the second floor was nothing but a nest of prostitution. Those of the Gallery Nine would challenge them or anyone else to find a prostitute that could do precisely what they did.

The third and fourth floors were a mystery to all but those employed at Nine, though it was suspected that some were private rooms… for those who worked the second floor of Gallery Nine were never… ever… seen leaving the establishment.

Staring at the exterior of the building, at the stark modern lines of the walls and windows, at the minimalistic and geometric lighting, Arthur Kirkland shuddered. His fingers rested between the dusty metal slats of miniblinds, propping them open just enough for one green eye to peer out. There was more that was said about Gallery Nine, and certainly none of it was good. As if the prostitution claims weren't bad enough, there were wild rumors that the Gallery served as a base of sorts for not only a drug trade, but for human and organ trafficking on the black market. There was nothing wholesome about the establishment, yet even if they were supposedly selling stolen military weapons to civilians and terrorists, thus far, no law enforcement agencies had been able to claim any proof.

Units had been sent in, surprise busts and searches conducted. It was as if the owners and employees had a sixth sense about dodging the law. Every time someone had been sent in to bust them, from official raids to an undercover customer, things had magically seemed to be on the up and up. There were no drugs found ever, no illegal weapons, no abducted people shoved in closets and crates. Even the second floor with its bold claims and reputation had always come up clean within the laws of the city. The law was stumped; the government could find nothing to slap the Gallery with. Gallery Nine was untouchable… so far.

"He's in there," Arthur whispered, a sense of disgust and trepidation radiating through his voice even if he was trying to stay calm. There was deep worry in his words, but he tried to hide it all with anger. Granted, the anger was real… anger at that establishment, but more anger at himself. Calmly pulling away from the window, Arthur backed away, trying not to make any sudden movements that could be perceived from the world outside. Yes, he had his light off, the storage room completely dark, but you couldn't be too careful. Not if you were trying to get into Gallery Nine, not when you were part of the task force designated to bring it down.

"D…Do you think he's… ok?" The soft and timid voice nearly made Arthur jump, and his heart raced as he turned to stare wide eyed at what seemed to be a person. Wasn't he alone in this room?! Oh… no wait… there was someone else in here with him… it was… it was…

"O-Oh… right… Matthew," he whispered, more to remind himself than anything. The other man in the room seemed to give a resigned sigh at the reaction, yet his timid blue eyes continued to stare from beneath glasses at Arthur. A hand was raked through rebellious choppy blond hair, and a sigh escaped his lips. "He'd better be… he promised us he'd be able to do this… but I suppose that's all rubbish at this point, now, isn't it?" There was a decidedly bitter edge to his voice by the end of his statement, but what could you expect? That bloody idiot had boasted he could take care of this no problem, claiming he'd be the hero who busted the Gallery Nine. Arthur couldn't curse the idiot enough… nor could he curse himself for going along with the fool enough either.

"I'm worried about him… it's been too long… he promised he'd get out by now…" Matthew was rambling softly to himself, so softly that Arthur honestly almost began to forget the other was there, even though he was staring right at him. He had to shake his head, furrowing his brow and pulling together his rather impressive eyebrows together in deep concentration.

"Well, that's why we're here, now, isn't it? We don't leave our agents behind, and if he needs our assistance he'll have it. We've just got to be careful getting in there… if we blow our cover it would put him in further danger…"

Six months ago, the government had set up a special task force of agents from various law enforcement agencies, hoping to infiltrate Gallery Nine and confirm once and for all just what illegal activities they were engaged in. Undercover agents posing as clients simply wasn't working… they needed a man on the inside. They needed to plant someone on floor two… it was a deep undercover operation certainly not for the faint of heart or the modest.

'It's more likely that fool went and got himself killed though… he's no good at lying, keeping secrets or acting!'

Arthur could feel the tension run though his hand, balling into a fist the more he thought about Alfred's attempt at going under cover. His teeth all but ground together as he tried to keep his emotions in check over this, wishing he could turn back time and… and… what… volunteer to go instead? Not bloody likely, but he could have at least pushed to have someone else try to go and play whore. "Come on, let's get away from the window before we say anything else…" Nodding, Matthew followed Arthur out of the room, out to the small employee break room they'd commandeered for their mission.

Their base of operations was a liquor store, a low key convenience market. They'd rigorously done a background on the owner and the employees before approaching them for the mission. While at first they'd kept far away from Gallery Nine, the continued lack of communication from Alfred was worrying, pushing their hand. The task force had relocated closer, right across the street, and the five agents left on the outside were now living right here. Sleeping bags didn't make for a good week of resting, but they wanted to limit how much they were seen as much as possible.

Stepping into the break room, the previously mentioned sleeping bags could be seen bundled up neatly against the wall in a puffy little huddle on yellowing linoleum flooring. The sickly sound of a dying refrigerator competed with the droning of an air conditioning unit. A sink was dripping dismally from the break counter, and Arthur shot it a dirty glare. The constant rumble and hum of electronics he could deal with, but he knew he'd not be getting any solid nights of sleep with the irregular drips, no matter how many soft sponges or cloths they set about to help muffle the noise. Turning his eyes away, he looked to the three men sitting at the round wobbling break table.

'What an absolute mess we are…' They couldn't have picked a worse team if they wanted to. Every one of them had a personal connection to this case (now that Alfred was on the inside at any rate)… each and every one of them.

There was Ludwig first and foremost, the second highest ranking agent here, directly under Arthur. Though the man carried himself with a stoic professionalism, there were times here and there where his composure would slip, and anger would get through. Why not though? How many men could have their lover disappear, only to become rumored as a whore in such a suspicious establishment? According to the blond man, there was no way his partner was there of his own free will, and his blue eyes were fierce when he declared the other man had been kidnapped.

Lovino Vargas also passionately agreed that Ludwig's partner had been kidnapped, though he blamed it entirely on the tall German. You were asking for a headache if you brought up Lovino's twin, even if it was necessary for their investigation. The hot-blooded Italian was volatile at the best of times, and when it came to his brother, well, the gloves came right off. Arthur suspected he must have used some shady means of his own to get assigned to this special force, because while Ludwig's relationship was politely kept under wraps, no one could possibly be fooled into thinking Lovino had no personal interest in this case.

It was, most likely, also due to Antonio that Lovino had made it onto the case. Gazing at the Spaniard, Arthur had a deep feeling that Antonio had worked hard to assist his own lover here on getting onto this particular case. It was a terrible mess, if you asked Arthur, and it seemed absurd. If you took the five of them as a small sample, you'd almost believe everyone was gay or related. Coincidences were piled high, and of course Arthur couldn't deny his own messy personal connections to this case.

Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams were brothers, yet another set of twins in this convenient cluster of coincidence. Though they had differing names thanks to a messy parental divorce, one look at the two clearly illuminated their shared blood. The two were childhood friends of Arthur's, and the three had gone through schooling and up similar paths. It hadn't been together, for Arthur had a few years on them, but their shared interests and passions had taken them down the same life path. Arthur had many fond memories of tutoring the boys on the trickier exams, or rather, of tutoring Alfred as Matthew seemed to have a much sharper head on his shoulders.

And now… now that fool who he'd helped raise (it almost felt some times)… was in trouble. Number six of their unit… undercover and gone right off the radar.

Arthur took a seat and groaned. It was nine o'clock at night, and though he was weary, it was just about time for them to set their little rescue plan into action. All eyes moved to him as he heard someone (correction, Matthew, why was that so hard to remember?) take a seat. He cleared his throat and looked at each man in turn.

"The Gallery doors will be opening for the first floor soon," he began. Despite the fact that, apparently, the second floor would take guests at any time, their unit had yet to gain such an appointment and had to follow the schedule of the first floor. "I'll be heading for the line then… hopefully I'll make it into the club portion…"

"I still say you should let me… I mean Antonio do it!" Lovino was on his feet, shouting out the same argument he'd been yelling since they'd formulated their plan. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Ludwig's voice rose up to do it for him.

"Lovino, your brother will recognize Antonio and it goes without saying everyone there will 'recognize' you all things considered."

"So? Shut up potato bastard! I don't trust anyone but myself and Antonio to get him out!"

"Well you're going to have to deal with it!" Arthur snapped at him, slapping a hand down on the plastic of the table top. He tried to ignore the tingling pain that exploded over his hand from the force of it as he leveled his eyes at Lovino. Typically even a small display of aggression could get Vargas to back down, but he seemed to be rather bold of late due to his brother's position. "As Ludwig and even you admit, your brother cannot be counted upon to be discrete! We cannot have him obviously recognizing anyone on our team, and though Alfred is certainly an idiot… it is… more likely that he… will not compromise our cover."

"If he hasn't already!" Lovino spat, sitting in his chair and crossing his arms, his face red and cheeks puffed out almost comically. By his side Antonio leaned over, attempting to comfort him through simple pets and gestures. All he got for his efforts were curses and hands batting him away. Still, at least Lovino wasn't shouting anymore. Arthur took in a breath and tried to calm his own nerves.

"Yes, if he hasn't already, which we all know is entirely possible." The gravity in the room seemed oppressive, Matthew's shoulders seeming to sag especially. In some ways, Arthur really did wish they could send in Antonio. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of entering the Gallery, but the other man was far more suited to mingling in such a place. Antonio was a duplicitous man, all too suited to the undercover work he did for a living. He could seem all wonderful smiles and easy casual charisma one moment, but if you weren't careful, you'd be drawn right into his trap. He was the sort of man needed to go poking about in such an open social setting. He was a far better choice than Arthur who had grown much more introverted and, well, prickly over the years.

'Ah but I was wild not too long ago… I've simply got to grasp that feeling again…' He'd have to do something, at any rate, if he wished to obtain an appointment or access to the second floor.

"You'd better get changed, then," Ludwig spoke up at last, his rigid frame not betraying just how much he wished he could barge in there, guns blazing, and rescue his partner.

"Yes of course."

"The wire has been sewn into the collar of your shirt… it's ready to go…" Matthew gave Arthur a weak and hopeful smile, encouragement perhaps. Arthur nodded resolutely and went to the bathroom, where he knew his outfit for the night had been laid out for him. Closing his eyes once he was alone, he let his composure slip just slightly. 'You'd better be alive.'

X x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Hey hey, I can do it myself! How do you even keep gettin' in here? This is my room, mine!"

"Tsk tsk, now now… how do you ever expect to be dressed properly if you don't let me help you?"

"I don't care! I don't gotta look all fancy anyway, that's my thing, ya know? I'm the wildly awesome good looking one! Ya know, the cool rebel without a cause kinda guy!"

"Haha… yes indeed… however… that is your image, and sadly, if left to you, that image falls apart."

"Shut up Francis, like I said I can dress myself!"

"Yes, poorly."

"Get out!"

Hands continued to push and swat at a blond man with wavy hair, the man stepping back and flicking a hand through the silky strands. The two were standing before a full length mirror and, one impeccably dressed and the other, well, somewhat of a fashion nightmare.

"Please," Francis began, a cool smile on his lips, a hand touching his lightly bearded chin with the back of his fingers delicately. "Even I know better than to start anything when you have an appointment coming oh so soon. But truly Alfred… are you even looking in the mirror? Please, you must allow me to assist you… at the very least with your hair…"

"My hair's fine!" Alfred shot back, raking his hand through the blond locks, fighting with that annoying patch that forever stuck up in the front before giving up. He let his hands drop, smoothing at his clothes and tugging them down here and there. From behind his glasses, he examined his look. What was so wrong with it? You couldn't really mess up jeans and a (purposely) ripped up form fitting t-shirt could you? He thought he looked awesome, especially with the way the shirt showed off his totally and completely hot abs and muscles. He was tempted to flex for himself in the mirror, and almost did, until he remembered the perverted man still in his room watching.

"Seriously, what's wrong with my clothes? This is what I'm supposed to wear."

"Alfred… there is more to it than simply putting on the clothes!" Francis took a small step forward, cocking his head to the side and holding out a hand, at last asking for permission to get his hands on the younger man. Alfred bit back the 'no' that wanted to fly right off his lips. As much as heroes absolutely did NOT need help with things like getting dressed and going on super secret under cover missions, Alfred had to (very grudgingly) admit that the other man had been… helpful to him… exceptionally so.

The fact that Francis had figured out Alfred's secret and set out helping him on his mission was another reason he had trouble outright refusing him. Though the undercover agent had no idea how the man had seen through his awesomely wicked acting skills, somehow he had. He'd been all ready to make a totally heroic escape and abort the mission when the other had offered to actually help him, coaching him and assisting in the forming of a believable cover. It was… uncomfortable, but Alfred could work with this guy if it meant possibly making this mission a success. Even if the guy was a total pervert. Which he was, if Alfred hadn't made that clear yet.

He didn't even want to think about the headache he'd get once Arthur found out he'd been nearly compromised so quickly, or that he'd spilled the details of their mission to an outsider. Still, he was supposed to infiltrate and figure things out, right? So hey, no one said he couldn't make an ally or two! Defenders of justice always had allies and sidekicks!

Hands running along the fabric on his hips startled him back to the present. "Hey hey hey! No starting something, remember?!" He swatted at the hands that'd begun to travel towards his rear, but was answered with a musical chuckle right at his ear. Alfred gulped, turning his eyes to the mirror in front of him to gaze at Francis, the other man's lips right by his ear. When had he gotten so close?

"Honestly, such a small gesture has your face turning red… how can you remain such a child after all you've done here?" There was coy teasing in the other's voice, and Alfred simply turned a scowl at the other man. Francis let a purr of a laugh escape before continuing what he was doing, namely tugging Alfred's pants lower so that they'd show off his hip bones. "You must remember you are presenting yourself for the fantasy, yes? You are on display, your clothing the garnishing to the dish, mmm? Therefore… you must highlight the most appetizing parts…"

Francis continued to subtly adjust Alfred's clothes, smoothing them out in places and leaving the shirt purposely skewed towards one shoulder to reveal some of his collarbone. Then he reached for the small dresser beside the mirror.

"Aww man, come on, real men and heroes don't wear jewelry!" Their eyes met in the mirror, but sadly Alfred knew he was going to lose on this point… as he'd lost night after night after night. He could only grimace as Francis retrieved a chain choker and a handful of solid colored bracelets. He slipped both on the all but pouting blond, his fingers trailing teasingly along skin as he did so. All the warning looks in the world weren't enough to deter Francis.

"I truly do wish you'd let me pierce your ears Alfred… it would certainly enhance your image." Francis looked at him with a hint of a plea to his eyes, but Alfred shook his head no. "Ah well. Then there's simply this…" Lifting both of his hands, Francis let his fingertips come up to rest on the frames of Alfred's glasses. He moved his body so that he was standing facing Alfred, between him and the mirror. Gently he began to tug them off, and Alfred opened his mouth, starting to protest.

"Shh… shh…" Alfred could just feel the warmth from Francis' s breath on his lips, his shoulders tensing just slightly. His eyes sought to connect with the other's as the glasses were pulled from his face, the gaze shared between them laced with unsteady emotions. Alfred simply… wasn't always sure how to deal with Francis. The man was his ally, and he was pretty sure the other was just one of those perverted guys that flirted with everything. What threw him off though were times like this, when Francis was looking into his own eyes so deeply, with such a warm and almost doting look in his eyes.

Alfred wasn't a deep thinker most times, and he hadn't been any more successful in conjuring up a reason for Francis helping him than he'd been in flat out asking for one. It was little moments like this, when Alfred got the frightening feeling that Francis was doing this because he… because he…

"There… now the look is complete, much better no?" Francis stepped away, gesturing to the mirror with a flourish. Alfred squinted his eyes, trying to take in his reflection without the aid of his glasses. He wasn't blind, not by a long shot, but he couldn't get the best of looks like this. Everything was just a little bit blurred.

"Whatever!" He quipped, though even with the slight blurring he had to admit his look was greatly improved from the so subtle adjustments. "A hero always looks good, all I need is this!" With that Alfred turned to face Francis, flashing a thumbs up and a dazzling open smile. People loved his smile… he knew it… because it was just like the smile heroes in movies had. That and it being one of the things his clients complimented the most. He didn't need people to tell him things though, Alfred was confident enough to know what was good about him. Namely everything of course!

"Haha… ah…" Francis was at a loss for words, and only tossed a smile of his own back, though his was far less innocent, and certainly suggestive. He propped a hand on his hip, letting his eyes obviously trail over the man before him before beginning to saunter for the door. "Very well, now that I know the clueless child is properly dressed, I can go ready myself for the night."

"Wha? Aren't you all set up already?"

"Ah my dear little Alfred, just because some of us prefer to dress with taste at all times does not mean I am always ready! Ah no, this is simply my casual attire, no? Though I am pleased to know you find it so ravishing on me…"

"Oh shut up!" Alfred shot back, though he was surprised. Francis was wearing a pair of fine slacks tailored to show off his legs and rear, tailored to hug all the right places as he moved and walked. The button up silk shirt was the color of a fine red wine, buttoned just enough to tease you with the lines of his chest. Alfred didn't ever get to see Francis work, always confined to his own 'work room', but to think he could look 'better' than that was… surprising.

'Not that I'm thinking he looks good now of course!'

Once at the door, Francis paused to turn and blow a kiss to Alfred, dipping his voice low. "Enjoy your lady friend, but do keep in mind that you can only refuse to entertain men for so much longer, yes? My offer still stands…"

Alfred let out a nervous laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching as he waved the other man away. It wasn't until the door was shut that he let out a deep breath, falling to crouch on the floor, shaking his head dismally. "I already know that…" he lamented to the floor. The 'hosts' of Gallery Nine were reputed to be everyone's dream, the fulfillers of fantasy. Everyone's. As the newest host in the lot of them, Alfred knew he was being given 'easy' clients, clients he had no significant aversion to entertaining. It was as much of a trial period as a warm up, and he knew that the bosses were nearing the time when they'd start expanding his client base.

Mission or no, Alfred quite honestly didn't know if he'd be able to entertain a man. He knew as a hero it was his job to successfully complete this mission… but there were just some things a hero didn't do! Heroes didn't compromise their values just to get the bad guys. If he went against what he thought was right (or rather in this case, what he was comfortable with), then he'd be only slightly better than the 'bad guys'.

Alfred wasn't against homosexuality or anything… but he also was sure he didn't swing that way. Arthur always complained he was a terrible actor… there'd be no way to fool a guy into thinking he was into that sort of thing then, right? It was disaster for his mission if he messed up, that was for sure. 'Ugh, which is the only reason I've considered that stupid Francis's offer at all!' Hitting the floor with his fist, Alfred stifled a cry of frustration just in time to hear a knock on the door. He took a deep breath and stood up, putting on his award winning smile and his game face. 'Ok, let's go, pretend ya love it here!'

He walked to the door, opening it up to see Toris standing there waiting for him. He flashed the usher a genuine smile, finding the other to be someone he actually liked here. 'Well, aside from the bosses, everyone here is actually pretty cool really… except Francis of course…' "Hey," he said casually, already shutting his door and following the other to go down to the second floor. Toris actually had the job that Alfred wished he could have snagged. He was the usher, the man who met the clients as they arrived at the second floor and led them to their rooms for the night, collecting the hosts after.

"Hello Alfred, your client is already waiting for you."

"Cool cool man, she mention anything special she wants or anything?"

Toris gave a nervous smile, nodding his head and causing the brown waves to bounce slightly. "I umm, wouldn't count on keeping your shirt on for long… she's rather," an embarrassed cough broke the statement. "Umm, she likes muscles so… show off?"

Alfred laughed, loud and boisterous and free. "Hahaha, I sure can do that!" Toris smiled back a little bit more warmly.

"I thought you might say so." They paused at the door, and Toris dipped his head in a bow. "Well then, please call me when Miss Renfield is ready to leave."

"You got it buddy!" Alfred flashed a thumbs up and another blinding smile before all but slamming the door open, causing the woman inside to jump. His smile never waved though, even as his eyes became intense and focused. 'Ok hero, we gotta do this!' Granted, as he stepped into the room he had to decidedly shut off the portion of his brain that said he was engaging in some decidedly un-heroic activities here. The door closed behind him, and Alfred moved to the woman's side, thinking about tomorrow, and his attempts at digging about for info during the early hours.

X x x x x x x x x x x x

Step one: Arthur was in. After standing outside the Gallery in a line for two whole hours, he was finally inside. As if the wait hadn't left him tired and cranky and irritable enough as it was, the sudden assault of loud dance music here on the first floor was pummeling away his will and tolerance to be here. He really just wanted to shove his way right back out of this place and curl up at home with a good book and a cup of tea.

His eyes glanced to the bar, and damn if he didn't want a drink to help him get through this mission. Unfortunately, he knew all too well what happened to him when he got even a little alcohol into him, and he'd been told by each member of the team before he'd left not to even order one drink. Not even for the sake of appearances. A part of him grumbled and wanted to argue with them, tell them that he could handle at least one drink, but he couldn't bring himself to tell such an obvious lie.

'Just think of Alfred… just think of Alfred… not that thinking of that fool will calm you down… but think about the tongue lashing you can give him when you pull him out of here. Yes… think of that.'

With his resolve set, Arthur started trying to work his way through the crowds, green eyes keenly taking in the lay of the place. He cursed rather often under his breath as he was jostled about, refusing to acknowledge that his lack of height was making things difficult for him. 'Why the hell are these people in here so tall?' He shoved along the dance floor as well as he could, and if there was one thing to be grateful of in this sardine packed crowd, it was that he didn't actually have to dance. There wasn't really the proper space for it, and he blended in decently with everyone else by rocking his hips just slightly and letting his shoulders bob to the beat.

'Ah, there, that must be the stairway to the second floor…' Arthur had seen an elevator earlier, but it had a clear 'employees only' sign upon it, and no doubt required the key to operate. It was probably easier to filter the clients up the stairs, where they'd be visible the entire time. Arthur 'danced' his way closer, trying to get a good look at anyone coming from the second floor or going up. Unfortunately, as the minutes ticked on and the songs continued to flow and change, absolutely no one was approaching the stairs. He cursed inwardly, frustrated and uncomfortable. He was sweating thanks to the heat of the dance floor, and he was getting a bit out of breath from all of the jostling as well. The noise was overwhelming as well, and Arthur couldn't imagine that this sort of scene wasn't too different from the one he'd thrived on in his wild years.

'Oh finally, yes!' Someone broke out of the crowd, discretely making their way towards the stairs. Arthur also discretely moved his way closer, pretending to fight for cell phone reception near the steps. He strained his ears, but of course couldn't hear anything but the music roaring through the building. Cautiously he cast furtive glances up, and thought he could just barely see the man who'd walked up conversing with another person. There were some rather imposing guards up there also he noted, all black suits and mobster cliché. The person the supposed client was talking to was blond, with flat green eyes. Arthur frowned trying to make out if it was a boy or a girl. The clothes he could see could really go either way.

Eventually another man, one with brown hair, came up and gathered up the now confirmed client, and they were led away and beyond Arthur's sight. 'Well, it doesn't appear as though any objects or invitations were passed on… I suppose this is as good a time as any to make my move.' Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Arthur started up the stairs, trying to seem as nonchalant as he possibly could. As he reached the top of the stairs he could see how simple a set up it was. The two guards sat on either side of the walls, and in between them was a small table with two chairs, presumably for the blond and the brunette men. The blond (yes, Arthur was confident it was a man now at this distance) had seemed to be about to take his seat again when Arthur arrived.

"Huh? Like, who are you?" The man drawled out, green eyes dipping to look at an open folder on the table. 'Ah, that must be a schedule of clients,' Arthur mused. Too bad he wasn't close enough to catch a look at the names. "I just totally showed the next client in and like, no one else is scheduled to show up for like, an hour dude." The two living meat shields shifted protectively, and Arthur tried to flash a disarming smile. It came out as an embarrassed grimace, but it would do. He coughed and looked rather sheepish.

"Umm… well you see… I'd heard that… umm… on the second floor, the Gallery was ah, a bit, different?" There we go, play the confused newbie card. He looked hopefully at the other man, who sighed dramatically and started flapping his hand in the air in rather girlish annoyance.

"Like, great, you're another one of those huh? Like, this totally sucks how often I have to deal with like, losers like you who don't have a clue or anything. I mean it's just so lame and junk and I mean, this shouldn't be part of my job but like, if I didn't do this then the boss would be mad and I'd totally have to like…"

"Erm…" Arthur cut in, fearing what would happen if he remained silent. The other hadn't looked ready to stop talking any time soon. "I'm very sorry; I just wasn't sure how it worked…"

"Like, duh dude… of course you didn't. That was so totally obvious!" The blond huffed and flicked the ends of his hair out of the way. Arthur could barely stop from sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"So… would you be able to tell me perhaps?"

The other let out a loud huff and dramatically flopped down into his chair. He flipped through pages contained in the folder, before pulling out an application. Yes, an honest to goodness application. "So, like, you gotta fill this out and bring us in a signed copy of a medical test proving that you don't have any totally gross and contagious diseases cuz like, we're a legit business and all and we can't be letting people make our employees sick and stuff. Oh and don't even think about like, taking this application and making copies to give out because we totally change it every day and like, have this watermark on it that totally shows if you scan it and make copies and stuff."

Arthur took the form, staring at it. He'd take a better look at it later, once he'd gotten out of here. "Is that all?" His mind was already working over the problem of the medical report.

"Umm… yep. You turn that in and we'll do our thing and then you'll like, get a call back from us and you'll either be totally happy or out of luck and we'll tell you how much money it's gonna be and stuff when we discuss what exactly you want at your pre-appointment."

'There certainly are a lot of rules and hoops to jump through for this,' Arthur thought bitterly, and he wondered why more people weren't turned off right away by how much trouble this was. Of course, that was probably part of why it was done, to deter the undesirables. At least on some level, it provided a meager amount of comfort for Arthur. If clients were investigated this thoroughly, then hopefully no one awful had run up against Alfred. Not that Alfred wasn't strong, but the thought of someone trying to beat him around did not sit well.

"Right then," he said, folding the application. "Do I just turn this in to you or…?" The other man just nodded, apparently bored with talking to Arthur (which he appreciated). "Very good then… erm, thank you." The other waved him off, and Arthur headed down the stairs. He danced for three more songs, so as not to look too suspicious, before making his way out of the club and into the blessedly silent early morning air. It chilled the sweat that caked his skin and sent pleasant shivers over his body.

Chancing a glance at his watch, he noticed that the time was three in the morning. As much as he wished he could just walk directly back to the liquor store right across and head in to sleep, he knew he needed to hail a cab and go for a bit of a roundabout drive. If he was being tailed, he'd need to know. Bitterly he noted that it'd be an hour at the very least before he'd be able to bed down, and it was even worse that it'd be in an uncomfortable sleeping bag at that. He took this opportunity to curse Alfred and his ineptitude one more time, because of course, this was all his fault.

Author's Note:

Phew, that was fun to write. I apologize to all of you who find what is likely to be the main pairing of this fic (FrUS) disgusting and so out of canon that it makes your head spin, but it crept into my head, and I found I liked it, even if it makes no sense anywhere but here. I suppose as it goes: Don't like, don't read. I take it a step farther and say don't even complain to me about it! XD There are lots of pairings here, America in many honestly. Yeah, it's one of those fics.

Arthur and Alfred will not be the only points of view this fic follows, as it'll switch about as needed. I'm sure people have noticed I'm barely going to try to make Arthur sound accurate, and not trying to toss in bits of foreign languages at all. If I'm going to fail, I may as well fail at it for not trying. Honestly I'm confident my attempts would only end up insulting sadly.

Anyway, comments are always welcome, just be nice! The only criticism I want is constructive. I don't promise a fast update, but I do promise more chapters.