Written for the Aph Minibang.

Don't Talk To Strangers

Chapter One:

"What do you mean we can get in there without getting caught?" Alfred asked as his best friend opened their locker.

"Well none of us on the team look like we're 16 and Jack knows how to get those fake IDs – there's no way we can get caught! Stealthiness originated in Korea!" Yong Soo persisted, practically throwing his books into the locker, unaware that stealthiness wasn't actually a word. Alfred winced as they crashed to the ground loudly.

"Are you sure Jack can get us the fake IDs?" Alfred asked nervously.

"Of course!" Yong Soo was very confident in his friends. "How else did you think he got the beer for Sadiq's birthday?" Noting his friend's still uneasy expression the Korean quickly added, "Don't worry Al! We're gonna have fun – and not get caught! You won't regret this night – ever!"

Alfred opened his eyes wearily. What… what happened? He and the guys [plus Elizaveta] had snuck into that club to celebrate their team's win in the Regionals… he had gotten crazy-ass drunk… then what?

The room he was in was a blur. Alfred squinted to make out a bedside table next to him, a large closet, and a dressing table with a large mirror. The room was a pale blue and rays of sunlight peaked through a nearby window. Alfred closed his eyes, his head pounding.

"Where're you boys going again?" his father asked as Alfred pulled on his shoes.

"Just to Jack's house – we're having a party to celebrate our win in the basketball tournament," Alfred explained.

"There won't be any alcohol there, right?" Arthur Kirkland said, folding his arms sternly. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Maybe – maybe not," he said slyly. Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"I hope you won't be drinking any of it," he stated and Alfred groaned.

"Dad! That's not fair! Didn't you used to tell me how you used to get crazy-ass drunk when you were my age?" Alfred demanded. That damned hypocrite! Arthur blushed.

"Well yes, I did. But I did many stupid things that I really regret at my age now! I don't want the same thing to happen to you! I don't want you to go down the same route that I did," Arthur said. Yes, many people said [behind his back] that Arthur was a bad father but really, in his gruff way, he really cared about his only son. After all, Alfred did have Arthur's blood. He knew that Alfred, just like his father and grandfather [and great-grandfather and so on…] would not be very good at holding his liquor and would be doing crazy stupid things right after the first drink.

"I'm not stupid you know," Alfred replied, rolling his eyes. Arthur sighed. Despite the shenanigans Alfred always managed to get into… he was right. He wasn't a total idiot – he did have a brain. "You should learn to trust me more," Alfred added. After a beat he asked, "So… can I go?"

Arthur closed his eyes, thinking it through. Perhaps he was just thinking it all out too much. Most likely nothing bad was going to happen and Alfred was just going to be driven home completely drunk and he'd have to deal with his hung-over son in the morning. The doctor had said to not stress about things too much…

"Fine," Arthur said, wincing slightly as Alfred let out a whoop. He knew that even if he told Alfred he couldn't go, he'd still have found a way to escape out of the house to the party. "Just be careful… don't drink too much... get someone to drive you home if you're drunk – and they better not be drunk either!" Arthur warned as Alfred walked towards the door. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yes mama," he taunted and laughed as Arthur glared at him. "But seriously, I'll be fine," he reassured, walking out of the door. Arthur watched his son walk towards a waiting car, his nephew Jack at the driver's seat, feeling very old and protective.

"Remember not to talk to strangers!" he called out and blushed as Alfred laughed.

"Don't worry mama! I'd never do such a thing!" Alfred teased before getting into the car and driving away from the house.

It literally felt like his entire body was in severe pain. Or at least, his head was. Alfred had definitely drunk way too much. At least he hadn't been the only one. Despite most of the night being an entire blur, he remembered Yong Soo dancing on tables, Feliciano and Ludwig kissing [it was going to be interesting seeing them at school after this…], Jack grinding up to random chicks and Sadiq… well Sadiq was being Sadiq. And being Sadiq meant trying to get as many girls as he could to sleep with him all at once – the dude was obsessed with having a harem. Despite his awful state, Alfred smiled. Taking a deep breath in he opened his eyes again, squinting to prevent the sudden light from hurting his eyes [and worsening his headache]. Again he saw the pale blue walls and the bedside table and large closet and the dressing table with the large mirror but this time… he noticed something else. Something – well, somebody beside him.

"You having fun Alfie?" Elizaveta asked teasingly, her green eyes flashing. Alfred laughed, running a hand through his hair, almost falling down in the process, laughing even more as Elizaveta joined him in laughter. Oh yes, Alfred was definitely drunk, Elizaveta knew it. Perhaps she could have fun with this… "Hey Alfred… d'you like anyone?" she asked, leaning in closer. Alfred reeked of alcohol. Elizaveta had drunken quite a bit herself but was thankfully a lot better at holding her liquor than the poor boy standing in front of her was.

"'coursh I do Lizzeh," Alfred slurred, leaning against the girl. To any other girl, the sudden heaviness that was Alfred's body would knocked them over or made them lose their balance but Elizaveta was not an ordinary type of girl. Forcefully convincing their coach to let a girl join the boys' basketball team, Elizaveta Héderváry was a force to be reckoned with, being one of the best players on the team. Elizaveta dragged Alfred to two bar stools so they could sit down.

Elizaveta's green eyes flashed – she knew it. "Who is it?" she asked innocently. Alfred looked up at her and grinned his signature cheeky grin at her.

"Matthew!" he exclaimed, eyes glazing over momentarily. Elizaveta squealed – Matthew was a boy's name! "The captain of the hockey team…" Alfred blushed. "He's so cute…"

"So are you!" she exclaimed, already imagining the pictures she could take after she helped them get together… it wasn't really a secret that Elizaveta had a bit of a fetish for boy on boy action.

"Hey Lizzie! You wanna dance?" a voice interrupted. Elizaveta groaned.

"No Jack I would not like to dance with you. I have a boyfriend," she reminded him. Jack shrugged.

"He's not here," he said, grabbing Elizaveta's arm and pulling her to the dance floor. Elizaveta bit her lip – Jack was so cute in his own Australian type of way… and he did have a point…

Elizaveta had a feeling she was going to regret this night.

Meanwhile, Alfred was slinking towards the bartender for another drink.

"There are a surprisingly high amount of children in this club. I'm surprised they managed to get in," a Frenchman remarked to his best friend – the bartender of the club. The bartender grinned.

"You must be happy," the Spaniard teased. The Frenchman pretended to look horrified.

"Moi? Happy? Cher, I am not the pedophile you know. That's your job," he teased as he pushed a stray strand of his blonde hair behind his left ear. The Spaniard laughed.

"Oh come on Francis I'm not a pedophile – half these kids are close to legal age!" he exclaimed and both men laughed.

"Hey can I have another drink?" another voice slurred into their conversation. Francis's left eyebrow rose as he surveyed the drunken teenager who was now standing next to him.

"Sure!" his friend exclaimed, reaching for a glass. The Spaniard noted the new look in his friend's eyes. He smirked and moved away after handing the boy a new glass.

"Bonjour," Francis purred to get the boy's attention. Francis liked the look of what he saw. Nice ass, pretty eyes, drunk as hell… young.

Something told Francis that he would be going home with someone that night.

There was someone sleeping beside him. Fuck. Alfred resisted the urge to repeatedly slap himself senseless. This wasn't good. Alfred snuck a peek at the person next to him. From the looks of it, his… bed-mate had long wavy blonde hair that was mussed and tangled. So Alfred slept with a woman… or a long-haired man. He still wasn't quite sure. The… person was sleeping on their stomach so it was impossible to tell. Alfred closed his eyes, feeling a wave of nausea pass over him.

Fuck his life.

"Oh… hello!" Alfred said in surprised, seemingly astonished to see the other man there beside him. Meanwhile, the Spanish bartender was hitting on Lovino Vargas, the rude and brash Italian who was surprisingly one of the best guards on the team.

"How old are you?" the man purred, leaning in closer. Alfred blushed.

"22!" Alfred lied, hoping he wasn't going to get kicked out. Even while drunk Alfred still had a bit of sense. The man grinned, placing a hand on Alfred's thigh.

"We both know that you're lying," the man murmured, rubbing Alfred's thigh seductively.

"I-I'm 16!" Alfred blurted out, clapping a hand to his mouth in horror as he realized what he just said.

"Perfect," the man whispered, his hand moving up Alfred's thigh. Alfred shivered involuntarily.

"What's your name?" Alfred asked, unconsciously putting his hand on the man's. The man's vivid blue eyes sparkled deviously as he leaned in closer.

"Francis Bonnefoy," the man whispered into Alfred's ear.

A man. Alfred had slept with a man. Sure yeah, he came out as gay a while back but still – he had slept with a man. Not even a guy in his twenties – Alfred had somehow woke up beside a naked middle aged man. Mind you, not an ugly or old looking man. What was his name…? Oh right – Francis barely looked his 40-something years. Alfred groaned – hot or not, Alfred still woke up next to a total stranger.

Another wave of nausea passed over him, this time much worse. Alfred shot up on the bed, pressing a fist against his mouth as he leaped onto the cold hardwood floor in an attempt to find a washroom in this strange house.

Alfred entered the hallway, the urge to just puke on the floor almost overwhelming him. He stumbled into the nearest door and thanked God for being so kind as to lead him right into the bathroom. He ran to the toilet, flipped open the lid and finally let himself open his mouth and expel all the vomit waiting to come out.

Alfred had no idea how he ended up at a random house completely naked but at that moment, he really didn't care. He would totally be worshipped for this – not only was he getting laid – but it was with someone older too! Heracles would be so proud.

He felt hands touch his waist, pulling him close to another body.

"Are you ready?"

Alfred flushed the toilet for the last time, trying not to get too nauseated from the sight of his own vomit flushing away. Alfred stumbled to his feet, legs wobbling. His stomach felt completely empty, as though he had thrown up every single damn thing that had been in it including his stomach juices. Man, his breath was going to reek after this.

Alfred supposed that since he had just screwed the owner of the house, he was well entitled to walk into their kitchen, grab something to eat and call Yong Soo or somebody else to come pick him up.

After sneaking back into the room, Alfred grabbed his clothes from the pile near the bed, hoping that Francis wouldn't suddenly wake up just as Alfred was making his escape. He pulled on his star spangled boxers [his favourite pair because they had the American flag on it] and then his jeans, flipping his shirt right-side out and pulling it on. He found his glasses lying on the ground nearby and pulled them on. Alfred then tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him without a backwards glance.

Alfred slunk around the house, praying to God that Francis was just a creepy old man who lived by himself. Quietly going down the rather fancy looking stairs Alfred wondered what Francis's reaction would be when he woke up alone. He probably wouldn't care – something told Alfred that Francis did this sorta thing a lot.

The house itself was fancy. Not rich… but fancy. Portraits were hung on the pale yellow walls, the stairs had been lined with a rather expensive looking carpet, and there were extravagant vases standing in various corners of the house. Alfred felt insanely out of place with his baggy and wrinkled clothing.

He managed to find the kitchen, in awe of the vastness of it. The kitchen was a chef's dream – expensive cooking utensils lined the counters and a large stove was in the center that was so shiny it almost seemed as if it hadn't been ever used. Alfred almost felt like he shouldn't be in there. His stomach then grumbled, reminding him of his mission. Alright, all he had to do was grab an apple or something, call Yong Soo and convince him to take him out of this place… wherever 'this place' was.

"Where the hell are the apples?" Alfred muttered to himself as he searched the kitchen.

"…Alfred?" a voice said incredulously behind Alfred. Alfred's eyes widened as he whirled around.

"Matthew?"

The man was a lot older, yes, but damn… Alfred could learn a thing or two from him. Their bodies pressed against each other sensually, both of them panting.

"What are you doing in my house?"

"This is your house?" Alfred asked weakly. It couldn't be – Matthew couldn't be related to… no. Alfred's head began to spin.

Matthew nodded. It didn't make sense – his name was Matthew Williams. There was no trace of a 'Bonnefoy' anywhere in that.

"Answer the question," Matthew asked, leaning against the wall across from Alfred, eyes narrowing. Alfred's stomach lurched. Matthew was wearing a 'Canadian Eh?' t-shirt [which in Alfred's opinion, hid all of Matthew's hockey-muscles and therefore was unacceptable] with rather ratty pyjama pants of polar bears. His violet eyes shone curiously through his mess of wavy blonde hair [which Alfred hated to admit must've been inherited from his father], the odd curl hanging over his face. Alfred wanted to preserve the image forever, since this would probably be the last time he'd see Matthew again before the other boy murdered him.

"I-I… well you see…" Alfred stammered, turning a deep red. Alfred hoped for a random lightning bolt to come from the heavens and strike him dead. Basketball heroes [such as Alfred] don't sleep with their crush's fathers! That's just not right! Alfred wanted to disappear so badly.

Alfred could see the realization hit Matthew's eyes. "Oh," he said quietly, looking away. "It's because of my dad isn't it?" he murmured.

"I was drunk! I had no idea – I'm so sorry Matt-"

"Don't fucking talk," Matthew said darkly, turning away. "You don't know how it feels to wake up in your own house and find out some guy you know – a friend – from school just slept with your slut of a father." It was side of Matthew that Alfred hadn't seen before. Matthew was normally a sweet quiet sorta guy – not this bitter angry one. It almost scared Alfred seeing Matthew like this and knowing it was thanks to him make him feel… well, it made him feel like a piece of shit.

"Matt I'm really sorry -" Alfred never got to finish. Matthew gave him one last glare before stalking back up to his room. Alfred groaned, burying his face in his palms. Why was he so damned stupid?

Running a hand through his golden hair [ignoring the strand of hair that always stuck up like a perpetual cowlick] Alfred sighed. Spying the phone not too far away from where he was standing, he walked up to it. The best thing to do was to leave the house before the older man woke up. Alfred really didn't want to see him, not after what just happened.

"Hello? Originator of everything speaking!" Yong Soo's voice said happily from the phone. Alfred winced, his head throbbing insanely.

"This is Alfred," Alfred said quietly.

"Hey Al! Me and the guys were wondering what had happened to you," Yong Soo said cheerfully. How the boy managed to stay so cheerful even though he drank even more than Alfred did was beyond the American.

"I need you to come pick me up," Alfred said quietly.

"Why? Where are you – are you at some random dude's house? Nice one Alfred, I didn't know you had it in you!" Yong Soo cheered. "Where should I pick you up?"

"Um… d'you know where Matthew Williams' house is?" Alfred asked. There was a small paused.

"You managed to sleep with Matthew? I didn't even know he was there!" Yong Soo said in shock.

"Um no… I didn't."

"… I don't get it."

"I'll explain when you get here."

"Alright I'll be there in a bit."

"I'll be waiting outside."

"Alright!"

"Oh and Yong Soo?"

"Yea?"

"Please hurry."

A/N: I finished writing this ages ago, and finally decided to post it up here. I broke it up into chapters, and hopefully I'll update everyday - if not every other day. The story's based off the song Don't Talk to Strangers [the prompt for this story] by Hedley - my favourite band :3 It's Canadian, aww yeah.

Review or Yong Soo doesn't pick up Alfred! D: