A/N: Hello again! I now present to you the second fanfiction in my Titanic universe. The pairing in this one is America and England, which was actually the first pairing I had this idea for. Unfortunately, my other stories slowly pushed this one back, but here it is! I hope you enjoy. You don't have to read my other stories to understand this one, but it would be much appreciated.

WARNING: boy x boy, bullying, and major character deaths galore!

The title is from the song "When I Fall in Love" by Nat King Cole.

When I fall in love

It will be forever

Or I'll never fall in love

In a restless world like this is

Love is ended before it's begun

and too many moonlight kisses

seem to cool in the warmth of the sun

The unsinkable ship.

Arthur stared up at the massive vessel in awe, never seen anything so grand in all of his life. He looked up from his miniscule spot on the dock next to the ship, dreaming of faraway places. This ship was going to take him somewhere new, somewhere exciting, on a whole new journey to the land of America, where he could start a new life.

He practically ran onto the ship, shoving past people, his one suitcase as the only memory of the place he was leaving behind. He shoved his ticket into the hand of the man at the door, not waiting for anything. There was nothing he wanted more than to get off that bloody island; he was more than eager to begin a new chapter of his life. Arthur's mind imagined the distant lands, off on the other side of the sea; rolling hills covered in golden wheat, forests that grew untamed and full of life, the concrete jungle of New York City, full of smiling faces and a second chance.

He made his way through the crowded hall to the staff rooms and knocked on his door, in case there was anyone inside. When there was no answer, he opened it himself, only to find a half naked Frenchman standing there.

"Ah, bonjour-" He turned to greet Arthur, but froze mid-sentence. He stood rather tall, though he was slouched to about the same height as Arthur. His body was lacking a shirt, as it was in his hands, and he was well-toned and thin. His deep blue eyes were lit up in delight, his long blond hair messily thrown into a bow. "- Mon ami! It's been such a long time!"

"Oh, Francis Bonnefoy," Arthur said, less than pleased with his new roommate. It was really regrettable that Arthur happened upon him again, the strange coincidence though it was. Arthur cursed his bad luck. How on earth did he end up with this crazy frog again? "What brings you here?"

Francis pulled his shirt around his shoulders, and while working on the buttons, grinned slyly at Arthur. "Why-" He grabbed a cap off of his bed "-I'm a cook!" He placed the hat on his head in one graceful swing of his arm, then his hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur leaned away as Francis said, "So glad to see you again, mon ami, but I must be working now." He waltzed out of the room, humming something obnoxious.

Just what I need, Arthur thought, a bloody frog smelling up my place with his cheese and wine. If that flirt tries anything funny- again.

"Mr. Kirkland!" A young man called his name from the hallway. "Your assistance is needed in the dining hall."

Arthur looked up at him. "Already?" He sighed, remembering he didn't get on this ship to play all day. "Right then, just give me a minute to get settled, shall I?"

Groaning, Arthur threw his suitcase down on the bed opposite Francis's. They had a decently sized room, modestly decorated. The walls were just a plain white with a bright crimson trim around the base. The carpeting from the halls reached into the rooms, the plush floor lavish and every detail of gold impeccable. Each bed had a nightstand with a lamp to the side and a dresser at the foot of the bed. There was even a small sitting area in the corner, with a door leading off to a bathroom in the back. He supposed the decorating would be left up to them, to put up pictures of loved ones and the like. He chuckled at the bare walls. He didn't exactly have any pictures to put up, not any that would dig up nasty memories...

Arthur let out yet another sigh, then, without any further hesitation, he flew out his room, fighting his way through the people flooding the halls and forced his way to the deck. He shaded his eyes as the bright light of the sun hit him, though the day wasn't the clearest it could be, and his eyes quickly focused on the landmass he was departing. It was difficult to see over all the people who were crowding around. He climbed up to get a better look at his former home. He watched the people on the dock, waving goodbye to the people on the ship; maybe family, or lovers. Arthur frowned. His family was most certainly not down there.

He scoffed. So long, Britain.

"Mon ami, what are you doing in the kitchen?" Francis stared at Arthur incredulously as he made his way through the kitchen to grab an apron. "Eh, surely you do not cook?"

Arthur scoffed and snatched the apron off it's hook. "I'm a waiter, Francis, don't sound so bloody concerned," he spoke as he tied off the knot. He whisked up his notepad and pen and stuffed them in the pocket.

Francis let out a sigh of relief. "Dieu merci, I was really worried they actually let the British cook... No offense, but anglais cooking is not exactly the best..." He bustled around the kitchen and landed a smack on Arthur's behind, to which he slapped Francis's hand. Undoubtedly French, Arthur thought as he straightened his tie and shirt.

Not three steps out of the kitchen, and a young man who looked rather ruffled approached him. "Um, could you take care of the man at table three? I'm eh, a bit swamped at the moment." He rushed off to the kitchen before Arthur could give him a proper answer.

Well, guess I have no choice now. He sighed and approached the table, running his hand through his unkempt hair. "Hello, my name is Arthur Kirkland, and I will be..." He trailed off as he gawked at the young man seated alone at the small table. He smiled up at Arthur, a goofy-looking sideways grin that almost seemed to radiate happiness. His hair was a bit scruffy, the ends flipping out and one cowlick that stood straight up on his head. His blue eyes shone through his small glasses that were perched on his nose, the clearest blue Arthur had ever seen in all his life. He raised an eyebrow, noticing Arthur's extended silence, and Arthur quickly shook his head to to clear it. "Right, uh, I will be your server this evening." No one ever told him that there would be a man this attractive on the ship; if he had known, he might not have boarded. "Can I start you off with something to drink?"

"'Bout time someone showed up, you're a little slow tonight, huh?" he mentioned, with an accent so grotesquely American Arthur almost cringed at the loud noise. "Well, I'll cut you some slack, it is the first day after all. I'll just take a lemonade, not really feeling the alcohol tonight." He slouched in his chair and studied the menu intently.

Any attractiveness he may have had going for him had vanished as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. His voice was high and obnoxious, having a whiny quality about it, and that accent... Arthur's thoughts were changed completely. You should never judge a book by the cover, so they say. "Right away, sir." Arthur sped off to fill his drink order.

No wonder nobody else wanted to serve him, they must have known. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to be the server for a loud, obnoxious American, no matter how attractive he may look. What was he even doing in this restaurant anyways, he lacked any sort of class whatsoever...

"... Alfred Jones over there at table three," Arthur caught word of the kitchen gossip and paused to hear more. "Heard his family hit big oil back in the states recently, so they're shipping him over."

"Yeah, he seemed new, he has no idea how to behave."

"No Americans do, in my opinion."

"His parents are keeping all the money for themselves, only using him for labor..."

"What was he even doing in Europe?"

"No one knows for sure, I heard he was a secret agent."

"Doing business with the Germans..."

"Part of the mafia..."

Arthur scoffed and turned away from the silly rumors. They had no idea what they were even talking about, and it was all ridiculous. He was just an ordinary man, only louder and more American. He filled a glass with lemonade and took it over to table three.

When Alfred saw Arthur approach, he looked up and smiled brightly, and Arthur's resolve wavered ever so slightly. "Aw, thanks, Arthur!" Alfred took the glass from his hand before he even had time to set it down and drank it so loudly Arthur felt like he would need his ears checked after he left. "Wow, this stuff really hits the spot! They don't have this stuff back in..." He cut off his sentence with another loud slurp.

Arthur stared at him, a bit befuddled, then cleared his throat and asked, "Are you ready to order, sir?"

"Er, right, about that..." He stared at the menu in deep concentration, not continuing.

Arthur sighed exasperatedly. This American was getting on his last nerves too quickly. "Is there a problem, sir?" There was a hint of snarkiness in his voice.

"There wouldn't be, 'cept this menu ain't in English." He frowned and pointed at it for Arthur to see.

Arthur closed his eyes and held his head; he could feel a terrible headache coming on. "This is the Café Parisian, the food items are in French."

"Well I don't know French, can you tell me what it says?" He flashed a charming smirk at Arthur, who blushed furiously.

"Uhm, you could just make a special request."

Alfred stared at Arthur like he was a genius. In all honestly, he was probably a fair bit smarter than the American. "Yeah, I guess I could do that! Ya got any beef? A nice tasty steak sounds great right about now."

Well, it wouldn't exactly be the American food he's used to but... "Yes, we have some beef. How would you like it cooked?"

"Deliciously."

Arthur sighed and decided not to try for a decent answer from him. His head already hurt enough, and he didn't want to listen to him speak anymore, the way he practically yelled across the room. "Alright, will that be all."

He pauses to think then nods, thankfully refraining from using his voice. Arthur nods curtly. "Good, well, you're food will be out soon." He hurried off to the kitchen, perhaps a little too quickly.

The rest of the evening was, well, too loud for Arthur's taste, what with Alfred being there. Once he had completed one steak, he insisted on eating another, and after that he just had to top it off with chocolate cake. He had quite the appetite, to say the least. He kept Arthur busy running around for various things, dropping his utensils, going through 4 glasses of lemonade, basically being an annoying git. Arthur wondered if the reason Alfred did such ridiculous things- he even asked for a new fork because his was too damn small- was to see him again?

But of course not. Arthur couldn't flatter himself like that.

Yet for some reason, Arthur couldn't get the bloody Yank off his mind. He lay in his bed, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling as he remembered the strong curve of his jaw, the brilliance of his eyes behind those silly-looking glasses...

He quickly shook those thoughts; he shouldn't be having them, not for another man... He had to remind himself than most men did not share his particular preference- in fact, most other men would beat men like Arthur, maybe even kill- Arthur shuddered. Hopefully Alfred couldn't be that bad; at least, he seemed a bit childish for that sort of thinking.

Arthur tried to think of a different topic, but there wasn't anything much better. His mind faintly drifted over the last fight with his parents, bidding farewell to all of his brothers... neither were fairly pleasant experiences to recall, seeing as he had run away from the mess of it, and that was how he winded up on this ship... rejected by his only family...

Of course, that was the least of Arthur's concerns at the moment. Right now, he was fairly preoccupied with what was going on in the bed with the Frenchman... whatever that was, Arthur was too scared to look over and find out. Arthur was trying to ignore the noises- he turned his back to them, squeezed his eyes shut, and covered his ears with a pillow- however, when your roommate invites a girl to the room and proceeds to make love right next to you, it was difficult to ignore. And it made it quite difficult to sleep, as well. He curled up, just hoping that it would go away, but the cries of pleasure did not decrease for some time, and once they did, Arthur couldn't help but catch their conversation.

"...your friend over there?"

"'E's no one, forget him," Francis insisted.

"Are you sure? I have a friend back in my room who would-"

Arthur quickly stood up, disturbed by the matter a bit too much. Both of them stared up at him, lying naked in the bed, and before he could actually come up with an excuse for why he reacted the way he did, he just pushed out the room and walked down the hallway with no specific direction other than away in mind. He had probably made a scene, but he didn't really care; he did not want to be offered some girl for company in the bed, one who probably had multiple previous partners, too...

Although, he thought, Francis probably already knew that...

He was going to have to sleep in the hallway, wasn't he? That was just splendid, exactly what he needed when he was already exhausted. Though, it wasn't like he could go back to his room, not without making another scene, and he'd probably get about as good a rest from sleeping in there from on the floor, what with Francis and his company...

He wandered the halls rather aimlessly, and he ran into no one, as it was likely already too late for many to be awake. He walked around until he was so exhausted he found a supply shelf that looked cozy enough for rest- well, as cozy as it was going to get, anyways. There were even a few towels to keep him cushioned. He practically collapsed into the little nook, his eyelids heavy as he drifted into sleep-

"Arthur?"

The sound broke through his almost-slumber, and he opened his dreary eyes unwillingly. Whoever is waking me better have a damn good reason- his eyes slowly made their way up the body of the culprit of the noise, and they rested on his own eyes, lacking glasses but still the same crystal blue. Oh. He was in just a pair of flannel pants, revealing his muscular arms and torso. Arthur wasn't exactly sure how to react, he was too tired to really think clearly. "Uh. Hi. Fancy meeting you here..."

"What the hell are you doing sleeping in the hall?" His face expressed genuine concern, and he kneeled down closer to Arthur, who was not entirely sure why. Does he think I'm drunk or something? He paused. If Arthur saw someone sleeping in the hall, he'd probably question it, too.

Arthur rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "Trying to get some sleep, wanker." Alfred just stared at him. "Er... my roommate. He, he likes to bring... guests..." he didn't elaborate further.

Alfred just stared in confusion, blinking, before realizing what Arthur was implying and blushed. "Oh." His voice was meek.

"Well, I want to sleep now, so you need to leave." He paused before adding, "Please."

Alfred frowned, obviously not satisfied with Arthur's current situation. "You know," he rubbed his neck as he spoke, "I have some extra space in my room- actually, a lot of it- that you can sleep in, if you want. Probably more comfortable than the hallway."

Arthur gaped at him. So, a good-looking man, one he practically didn't even know, was offering him a bed, with pillows and blankets and all. He was either incredibly generous, or incredibly stupid. Arthur could be a serial killer, for all he knew... yet he was offering up a bed and asking nothing in return, and why? Just because he was a good person, or...?

No, not that, but it was still honestly a bit strange. Arthur didn't completely feel comfortable sharing a room with a stranger, and especially not this one... "Ah, no thank you, I'll be fine." He fell down onto a towel to use as a pillow.

Sighing, Alfred stood, a look of disappointment on his face. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be right down the hall, three doors to the left." He points to where his room is and Arthur vaguely follows his gaze but he's too tired and doesn't quite register what he sees. Alfred shifts his feet uncomfortably, and Arthur's eyes are already closed so he figures it'd be best just to head back to his room as he's forgotten what he was doing, but he blurts out, "Alfred."

Arthur opens his eyes and raises a questioning eyebrow at him, but says nothing.

"Uh, that's my name. Alfred. I realized I never properly introduced myself." He looked up, but Arthur noted a blush on his cheeks. He's really cute when he's not loud and obnoxious... Arthur mused, smirking.

"Right. Alfred." He didn't want to admit that he had actually learned the chap's name from some kitchen gossip. "Alfred," he repeated, enjoying the way it rolled off his tongue. "Well, I'll most likely be seeing you, well, around the ship later."

Alfred gave a sleepy half-smile to him. "Yeah. G'night then, Arthur."

He only nodded in reply, watching Alfred go back the way he came.

The last thing Arthur remembered being on his mind before he passed out was how nice Alfred looked from behind.

bonjour- hello

mon ami- my friend

anglais- english