Oh hey, a new story. xDD And yes, that will be the title until/if I find a better one.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

"Bloody-Alfred, what is this 'D' on your report card for?" When there was no reply, the British man turned from his position at the stove to his son sitting at the counter just behind him. His thick brows furrowed disapprovingly as he discovered the sixteen-year-old fixated on some sort of electronic in his hands. "Alfred Franklin Kirkland, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

The order was to no avail; his son refused to respond. He was ready to box the boy about the ears until he noticed thin white cords cascading from inside Alfred's hoodie. Arthur cursed technology under his breath and stomped to the opposite side of the island, reached across, and tore the earbuds out. In an attempt to intimidate the teen, his sharp green glare bored into his sons' pretty blues.

The man couldn't help but be reminded of his ex-wife every time he simply looked at Alfred. He'd received his somewhat unruly hair from his father, very different from his mother's wavy locks, but both he and his twin brother were graced with her deep blue eyes. Arthur felt his heart twinge as he remembered his other son; he did his best to pretend he only had one child but he was only one step from the mere thought of Frances Bonnefoy.

To his relief, Alfred's curiosity pulled him from his reverie. "What? Why are you starin' at me like that?"

Slightly embarrassed, the man quickly broke eye contact. He retained his wrath, however, as he shoved the progress report into the student's hands. As his blue eyes skimmed over the page, his father returned to his previous scowling. Surprisingly, he didn't look all too concerned at his grades, maintaining an apathetic expression until he put it down.

"And?" Alfred asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly.

The grown man barely managed to contain his fury and tried to remain 'civil' with his son. "A-are you pleased with your grades?" he forced, the strain evident in his voice.

As if he'd forgotten already, the adolescent let his blue eyes fall upon the paper again for just a moment before returning his father's gaze. God was certainly testing Arthur Kirkland that day, for in an indifferent tone he replied, "I dunno...Should I be?"

"Absolutely not! Look again at your Algebra grade, if you would." he couldn't help but raise his voice; his son couldn't be this dull, could he? No, he wasn't. Maybe a bit slow at times, but he was a bright boy. Arthur remembered just a year before when the all-American child had been so proud to make it into a higher level of math for his junior year. It'd been much more work, but since recently Alfred was managing at least 'B's.

The British man had also noticed the growing isolationism of his son. Though they had never been "close" in any sense of the word, the sixteen-year-old seemed to be pushing him away even more. They had small talk at meals, but he had abruptly stopped bringing up personal or school matters. As distasteful the way Alfred spoke with his mouth full was, Arthur missed the enthusiastic recollections of his school day.

For the life of him, he had no idea what the matter was with his son. Could it be that "teenage syndrome" all the other parents talked about? It had to be, he decided. No life-shattering experiences had occurred recently; had it not been for this, last month would have been exactly the same in terms of un-eventfulness.

"Did you find it?" he prompted, unsettled by the out-of-the-ordinary silence that had enveloped Alfred.

"Yeah." was the monotone reply. He refused to look up into the fixed emerald daggers.

"Well, are you proud of it?"

Arthur was met with silence, rather pleased with himself. The intimidation factor-or guilt trip, he'd tried that as well-had worked, apparently. Even though bullying his son into a mute had been his main objective, he also pitied the poor boy. Alfred was normally a good student, after all. The man was disappointed for sure, but wasn't completely heartless to his son's melancholy.

Silence suffocated the pair for a bit, and the elder returned to the frying pan to find strips of charcoal where bacon was just minutes before. "Bollocks," he hissed, frantically turning off the burner and moving the pan of ruined breakfast.

"Didja screw it up again?" a slightly amused voice wondered, the owner craning his neck to see around the aproned figure of his father.

"Of course not!" Arthur snapped, "The bacon will just be a tad bit crispier this morning..."

He transported half of the food to his plate and the other to Alfred's, joining the buttered English muffins on each. The man set the one in front of his son, who crinkled his nose in disgust, and the other on the countertop where he had been standing earlier. They both picked up their drinks of choice-Earl Grey for Arthur and orange juice for Alfred-and took identical sips before hesitantly digging into the unfortunate meal.

After braving the blackened breakfast and a half-hearted 'thanks' from Alfred, Arthur reached over to examine the report card once more. He hadn't noticed the slight reduction in other subjects for the dramatic decrease in math, but now that he looked at it more carefully there were far more 'B's than there were the last time one was sent home.

"Alfred, I'm finding a tutor for you." he abruptly stated, ignoring the immediate expression of protest on his son's face.

"What? No way-"

"Yes way, and no playing that sorry excuse for cricket-"

"Baseball!"

"-in the spring unless you bring your grade in Algebra up to at least a 'B'. It wouldn't hurt to try to get 'A's in your other subjects, either." Arthur knew he was only making himself enemy number one in Alfred's book, but he would not simply allow such poor marks.

Sure enough, he was met with a hardened blue glare not unlike his own. The teen tersely stood and swung the backpack resting on the floor over his shoulder, wordlessly evacuating through the front door. That would certainly not be the end of the boy's tantrums, Arthur knew. With a sigh, he cleaned the dishes and counters. After he finally finished straightening up-scrubbing the charcoal from the frying pan had been no easy ordeal-, the man shuffled his slippered feet to the telephone mounted on the wall by the refrigerator.

After flipping through a nearby phonebook, the Englishman dialed the number to Alfred's school, Hetalia High. The cheerful and helpful secretary, "Miss Emma," had informed him that the school did offer tutoring services. Though they did not have access to professionals, exceptional students were given community service hours for playing tutor. After his short conversation with her, completely booking his son's afternoons in a matter of minutes.

Oh, how pleased the athletic teen would surely be when he found one "Kiku Honda" waiting for him at three o'clock every day.

A/N: What is this I don't even. o_o And seeing as this is Alfred/Kiku-centric, why was it in the "perspective" of Arthur? Hell if I know. ._. It won't be like this next chapter. xDDD;

I was looking up pictures for an Ameripan slideshow/movie thing, and this suddenly hit me. xDDD; WHY. I have so many ideas it's not even funny. ;n; I actually have three other chapter stories I'm brainstorming...and have been for a couple weeks, rather than this one that just decided to happen. D|

SIGH. Anyways. I don't really know where this going atm, but I do have random bits and pieces in my head. 8D

This is pretty much just the intro, also. We shall meet Kiku next chapter. YEY.

We get a little insight into their background, yay. x3 UKfem!Fr if you didn't catch it. Frances = Francis. She took Matthew, Arthur took Alfred. Not going any more into it yet. ;D NO SPOILERS FOR YOU.

Oh, and Emma = Belgium. Not really important. She may show up again...probably not.