So, I don't know what happened exactly but I've suddenly had a ton of ideas for stories in, like, a week. And they're very distracting cause they're awesome. And there was this one that I thought I'd start writing and, midway through, BOOM! Like, a hundred new ideas! (Okay, it was, what, three, if that, but, still.) Eventually, I got this flipping finished so here it is. It's not turned out as well as I wanted it cause I wanted it as a one-shot but... I kind of skimmed over some stuff. Perhaps this would be better with more chapters...

Arthur's nose was buried in A Little Princess, thoroughly enjoying his time in Miss Minchin's Select Seminary for Young Ladies, when he heard the door of his flat open. He ignored the sounds of his flatmate swinging the door shut, collecting the mail and approaching the living room. Finally, the couch sank beside him and he glanced round.

"Szia, Arthur," said Elizaveta with a grin.

"Good evening. How was work?" he asked as he swiftly put his bookmark in his place and carefully closed the book.

"Same as normal, drágám," she replied shrugging as she shifted through the letters. However, Arthur noticed that she wasn't paying attention. He suppressed a smirk and waited. "Okay, that's it!" she sighed, suddenly, letting the letters drop onto their coffee table. "Did you see?!"

"Yes, I did. They've been going up and down all afternoon." He placed his book beside his friend's letters. "I am eternally grateful for whoever invented the peep-hole."

"Well? What are they like?"

"Alas," sighed Arthur, mockingly, "the peep-hole is not that good of an invention. I caught glimpses. One has dark hair and the other has light. But..." He glanced away, avoiding Elizaveta's smirk.

"But you were too scared to go outside."

"I was not!"

The Hungarian shook her head and retrieved a box of tea from her spacious bag. "You asked me to buy tea and insisted it was urgent."

Sighing, Arthur rolled his eyes. "I wasn't scared," he persisted. "I just decided that it would be awkward to have a conversation when they were busy."

"Mmhmm," was the disbelieving reply. "So, when are we going to do our spying?"

"Liz!" Arthur shook his head. "Can't you leave our new neighbours alone?"

"Oh, come on. They're both guys, right? Maybe you'll find someone upstairs."

Arthur laughed as he took the box of tea. "I doubt the universe wants it to be that easy. They're probably both straight. Or a couple."

"Ah, ah, ah!" cried Liz as he stood and made his way around his end of the couch. "Don't assume! You know that Mrs. Edelstein keeps asking when we're going to get married, don't you?"

Wincing, Arthur stopped and turned to her, Elizaveta twisting round to lean against the back of the settee. "Seriously? She asked me yesterday if we had, er, buchtel in the oven yet. I looked it up – suffice it to say that I'm not talking to her again if I can help it. Ever."

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. "I've told you plenty of times that she's batty."

"She probably just misses the pitter patter of tiny feet."

"I think she should appreciate the tinkle-tinkle of tiny keys," said Elizaveta with a sniff.

Arthur grinned, glad that they'd gotten onto the subject he could tease his overly-confident flatmate about. "Ah, yes, that is another thing, isn't it? How on Earth has she not noticed that you've fallen for her own son?"

"Hm, she probably thinks I'm not educated enough to understand what Roderich does on the piano," Elizaveta replied, a pink tinge spreading across her cheeks.

With a snort, Arthur turned back to his journey. "She's just too wrapped up in her own world – don't let it get to you. Do you want tea?"

"Igen, kérem," was the reply.

As Arthur was pouring water into the kettle, he heard movement from the living room followed by footsteps drawing closer. He turned to Liz as she hovered in the door frame, obviously wanting to talk but also wishing to get out of her sweaty clothes. "What is it?" he asked her, placing the kettle on its stand and flicking it on.

"When do you think we should go greet these new neighbours?"

The Englishman winced as he pulled out two well-used teacups. He shouldn't have told Liz that they were both guys. She probably already had a dozen schemes to get him on a date with one of them. "Not tonight, at least," he replied without looking at her. "They'll need to get settled in." When he chanced his luck and glanced at her, she looked rather downhearted. "But, I suppose, we could bake a cake and take it to them as a welcome gift."

Brightening, Elizaveta hurried over and planted a soft kiss to Arthur's cheek. "Yay," she said.

"Get away with you, missy!" Arthur cried, wafting a hand at her, cooling his red cheeks in the process. "You need a shower, for goodness' sake!" he added as she darted away and hurried from the room.

"Don't you think this is too early?" hissed Arthur.

"It's not early enough! I told you, we should have come before lunchtime!" Elizaveta sighed.

"We had to clean up after the mess we'd made."

"You made that mess! And I keep telling you – turn up with a free lunch and they'll be all over you!"

"And I told you that a cake is hardly a meal!"

"It is when you make it right!" cried Liz before freezing. Their argument had increased in volume and, crouching outside the recently reoccupied flat, they looked rather ridiculous. Smiling at each other, they straightened. "Sorry."

"No harm done," said Arthur with a shrug, smoothing down his shirt once more. "Let's just get this over with." And, with that being said, he curled his fingers and knocked sharply on the door.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then they heard shuffling from behind the barrier. With a click and a creak, the door opened to reveal a small man with dark hair and dark eyes. Arthur thought he looked Asian but that really meant nothing. He was dressed in what appeared to be pyjamas, his loose trousers hanging from his hips and his t-shirt a little lopsided.

"K-Konnichiwa?" said the man, quietly, leaning on the door.

Arthur felt his heart leap and his insides pull him in several different directions at once. Desperately, he tried to stop himself from becoming red-faced just from the young man's accent and hurriedly coughed into his hand. He wished he couldn't see Elizaveta grinning out of the corner of his eye. "Ah, um. Hello. Good afternoon, in fact." He chuckled. "Where has the time gone, eh?"

"Um..." said the man, uncertainly.

"Ah, er. We're your neighbours," Arthur continued when Elizaveta made no move to save him. "From downstairs. We, er, noticed you moving in yesterday."

"You did?" asked the man, surveying the nervous Brit.

"Yes..." Arthur trailed off, coughing again in an attempt to force Liz to say something, dammit!

Finally, his prayers were answered. "We thought we would bake you a cake to welcome you to the building," Elizaveta explained, holding out the box they had put it in.

"Oh, well... Arigatou," their neighbour replied. Gently, he took the box. "I am Kiku Honda," he told them.

"Elizaveta Hedervary."

"Arthur Kirkland." And Arthur held his hand out to shake Kiku's only to realise that the cake took two hands to hold. Slowly, as if hoping not to bring attention to it, he drew his hand back and dropped it to his side.

"Would you like to come in?" asked Kiku politely. "You can meet my room-mate."

"We don't want to impose," said Arthur with a small smile.

"Not at all – we're not doing anything."

"Ah, we could all have tea and cake together!" agreed Liz.

Kiku nodded and stepped aside to let them enter. Arthur remembered something from a holiday in Japan and slipped off his shoes. Liz followed suit. Then they followed him to the kitchen where he placed the cake on the unit and turned to them.

"Alfred is in the living room, if you will follow me. I am afraid that he does not drink tea so it will have to be tea, coffee and cake."

They followed once again, Arthur revelling in Kiku's accent and the way he said 'cake'. In fact, he was feeling rather giddy. Elizaveta wasn't helping matters, giggling behind her hand and sending Arthur knowing looks. She was the only one who knew about Arthur's delight in accents. It didn't matter if it was Yorkshire or French, Scouse or Japanese – if it was different in any way from Arthur's and said with a deep voice, the Londoner found his heart a-flutter.

Stepping through the door from the hall, the two friends surveyed the newcomer's living room. Boxes were piled haphazardly in the corners, clearly labelled. A comfortable looking, dull, old couch was in the middle of the space, a glass table in front of it. Mugs, glasses, pizza boxes, burger wrappers and ice cream tubs were strewn over its surface and on the floor under it. An XBox controller had been left on a cleared space, resting beside a small cup within which was some green tea. The TV was a huge, flat, wide-screen one and it stood tall upon a small table. Stuffed underneath were several games consoles, a green light shining from the XBox. On the screen, a man with a machete was ploughing through zombies, slashing them. It seemed he was protecting his companion, a woman who was standing still, occasionally shifting when something hit her.

After watching this for a few seconds, Arthur returned his attention to Kiku's flatmate. He was lounging on the couch, sprawled across it. His t-shirt was a deep blue and pulled up to reveal some of his stomach whilst his slack trousers were being pulled up his legs with his shifting. Arthur imagined these were his pyjamas. He had blonde hair like Arthur had suspected, his hair a mess with a cowlick standing stubbornly proud. His glasses were slipping down his nose but he chanced letting go of his controller with one hand and pushing them back up.

"Where are ya, Kiku, man?! Who was at the door? Hurry up or you're gonna die!"

Arthur almost died instead. Next to him, Elizaveta only just managed to stifle a gasp and a grin. For, if there was one accent Arthur liked best, it was the tones of the American one. After all, it was rather similar to English, in a way. And yet it was so deliciously different. That was without even going into the different varieties of accent from across that vast land. He bit his lip and glanced at Kiku, waiting for him to say something.

Clearing his throat, the quiet man spoke. "Al-kun, we have visitors."

Alfred hit the pause button and looked round but didn't bother to get up. "Yo," he said with a grin.

"This is Kirkland-san and Herdervary-san," Kiku explained.

"Elizaveta and Arthur," Liz supplied, smiling down at the young man. "We live downstairs."

"Ah, cool! Is this the neighbourly relations thingy?" Alfred asked with a grin, propping himself up, possibly in an attempt to sit up. He seemed to get halfway before deciding being propped up was far enough.

"They brought cake," said Kiku, a curious knowing smile on his face.

"Oh, sweet! Thanks! I'm Alfred."

Regaining control of himself, Arthur cleared his throat and stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Good afternoon, Alfred. It's a pleasure to meet you."

There was a pause as Arthur watched his neighbour's eyes widen behind his glasses. The still air settled on them and, for a moment, Arthur thought that Alfred considered him to be too stiff. Just as he was about to drop his hand for the second time that day, Alfred suddenly gasped and sat bolt upright.

"Ah, hi!" he cried, trying to swing his legs off the couch and stand at the same time. This resulted in him topping to the floor, crunching boxes and wrappers beneath him. "Fuck," he grumbled and scrambled to his feet, slipping a couple of times on a wrapper till he was upright. "Sorry about the mess. Hi," he said, hurrying forward and grabbing Arthur's hand.

Letting him shake it, Arthur stared at him in alarm. "Um... Yes. That's quite all right."

They dropped each other's hands then, Arthur retreating a step. At that point, Alfred winced and glanced down. "God, I'm not really... dressed. I'm so, so sorry, sir. I'll go get changed and we can all have our cake and eat it!" He laughed boisterously as Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"'Sir'?" he asked, watching Alfred's alarmed expression. "I'm not that old!" he snapped.

"Oh. Uh, I- Well, I... That's not what I... I just thought that was a British thing and stuff. And, I mean, your eyebrows are really thick – I thought you might be a bit older, y'know?"

"What?! I'll have you know my eyebrows are perfectly normal, you jackass! And don't make assumptions – we don't go around calling each other 'sir'. Tsk!"

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I was just- I didn't- Your- I just-"

Arthur gave a harsh laugh which stopped Alfred's embarrassed fumbling. "You can barely form a sentence! What are you doing in London?"

Obviously confused at the sudden change of topic, Alfred replied a little hesitantly. "Um, I'm studying at universi-"

"Ha! How did you get into a university over here?"

The Londoner knew he shouldn't be angry at such an innocuous statement but he had been on the receiving end of too many of Elizaveta's blind dates, the most recent of which was still fresh in his memory. Americans always seemed to think that he should be treated like an older man and some even went out of their way to humiliate him. Enough was enough – no more stupid Americans, no matter if they hadn't meant any harm.

However, Alfred seemed to have had enough, as well. With a sharper mind than Arthur had thought, he had obviously worked out that he had been insulted as his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. Somehow, being irritated didn't suit him – yet that was what made his expression all the more formidable. "What the hell?! I was just trying to be polite, y'know!"

"Be polite when you know what you're talking about," Arthur replied, smoothly. His hands were suddenly fists by his side. This introduction had been a mistake – he should have stuck with his British upbringing and ignored them.

"I doubt you know what you're talking about, you... you stupid Limey!"

A tense silence descended as the Brit and the American glared at each other. Then both turned away. Arthur stormed from the flat, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Since he was turned away from the counter to find a suitable bag, Arthur took the time to tug at his cravat. It was still too warm for this item of clothing. However, he put on a smile and handed over the customer's items. "Thank you very much, ma'am. I am sure you will enjoy this. Please come again, when you can."

The young lady giggled and hurried off to her friends. Arthur rolled his eyes before tidying the desk a little. Finding nothing else to do, he turned back round to find Alfred biting his lip as he gazed at him. Jade and azure met and the room stilled.

"Uh..." said Alfred, hesitantly.

Pretending he hadn't met the man before, Arthur said, "Can I help you, sir?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow at his phrasing but seemed to shrug it off. "Yeah. I was hoping you'd tell me when you got off work so I could take you to a coffee shop or something."

His heart stuttered to a halt and his eyes widened. "Sorry?" Arthur asked. He was not accepting this. There was no way in hell he would go on a date with this rude, loud American. No way.

"I... I really want to apologise for yesterday. I shouldn't have shouted, really. And, I suppose, it was rude to make fun of your eyebrows. I wasn't really thinking..."

Hesitating, Arthur adjusted his waistcoat. "Well, I must apologise for my behaviour. I have a bit of a temper."

"Tell me about it!" grinned Alfred.

"I suppose that a cup of tea and, perhaps, a cake to apologise would be acceptable. There is a Starbucks along the street. I could probably meet you there around half six."

"Cool! I'll be there!" Alfred paused then and ran his eyes around the shop. "Nice place to work, I suppose."

"Mm," said Arthur, in agreement. There was no-one else around for the moment, the visitors likely upstairs with 'Sherlock Holmes'. He blinked. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Oh, uh... Elizaveta told me. See, Kiku told me I should apologise so I went downstairs but you weren't in. Then she told me you were at work and, well, I moaned that it would be boring to wait so she suggested I go to the Sherlock Holmes Museum. I gotta say, if I knew you worked here, I'd 'ave guessed you'd 'ave been the man himself." Alfred grinned at him again.

Arthur rolled his eyes. It seemed Elizaveta was up to her old tricks again. "I was told I had to be a little older to be Holmes. I don't mind – I imagine it would be quite tedious to say the same things over and over again all year round."

Alfred tilted his head, smiling a little softer now. "Hm, well – you still look good. Nice cravat."

"Are you being sarcastic?" demanded Arthur, furrowing his brow.

"Nope." Alfred glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, looks like there are people..." Sure enough, a group of tourists had just entered the shop, gazing around at the paraphernalia. Quickly, he grabbed a nearby mug. "Well, I'll just get this souvenir and go home. Still got unpacking to do."

"No doubt," said Arthur as he scanned it. "I guess I... will see you later?" he added, uncertainly, as he accepted Alfred's crumpled money.

"Yup! Starbucks, six thirty. Gotcha!" And with a quick salute, Alfred grabbed his bag and change and rushed from the shop, leaving Arthur to tell himself firmly that he had not just agreed to a date.

Arthur was exhausted by the time he reached Starbucks. He was a little early so he procured a table and draped his trench coat over a chair. Honestly, though, he probably stood out in his work clothes – looking Victorian in the 21st Century probably always looked odd to passers-by. Checking his watch, he noted that it was six twenty-five. He tapped the table with a finger and watched the door.

It was six thirty-nine when Alfred finally appeared, looking rather out of breath. Arthur scowled at him, noting that he was wearing tight jeans and a plaid shirt over a plain, white t-shirt. His trainers squeaked on the polished floor as he hurried over. "I am so sorry!" he gasped as he slid into the seat opposite Arthur. "I didn't really think about how busy the subway would be!"

Tapping his finger a couple more times, Arthur glared across at him before rolling his eyes. "You are such an idiot," he grumbled.

"Hey, hey!" cried Alfred. "We're supposed to be saying sorry."

"True. How is this going to work? You buy me my tea and-"

"Tea?! In a coffee shop?! No, no, no! I thought you were joking. You gotta drink the coffee!" Alfred looked incredulous.

"I don't like coffee," said Arthur, his eyes narrowing again.

"Sheesh, you shoulda told me that!" Alfred looked rather upset. "Fine, I'll getcha tea. And my own coffee. You buy the cakes!"

"Cake," corrected Arthur. "I don't want any. It will spoil my tea."

"How the hell would it spoil the tea?" asked Alfred, exasperatedly. Arthur supposed that, if he wasn't trying hard not to upset his companion, Alfred would have thrown his hands in the air.

"Not the tea, my tea. My dinner."

There was a slight pause as Alfred stared at him from across the table. Arthur wondered what was going through his mind as his cheeks turned pink and he seemed to shiver ever so slightly. Then the boy's eyes narrowed. "You're doing that deliberately, aintcha?"

Arthur's grin was malicious. "Serves you right for keeping me waiting."

"But I already said sorry!" wailed Alfred.

"There is no teacup in front of me so I rather think you have not."

"Geez, fine!" said Alfred, standing. "You still need to buy me cake. Two cakes, now."

"Yes, yes," sighed Arthur, rising as well.

Of course, Starbucks is not the best place to get tea. In fact, from experience, Arthur found that any coffee place tended to put the emphasis on the coffee and forget about the tea. So he had a rather limited choice. Eventually, he ended up ordering Earl Grey whilst Alfred asked for an espresso with a shot of syrup. He also ended up paying for a slice of chocolate cake and a 'duffin'. His nose scrunched up as he watched the assistant bringing it out and Alfred babbled away, explaining what the duffin was. What on Earth was the need for combining doughnuts and muffins?

Finally, they were seated once again, Arthur sipping at his tea, his lip curling a little. It may have been made quite well but the smell of coffee overwhelmed his senses, causing the tea to taste a little off. Alfred, meanwhile, seemed satisfied with his purchase and tucked in quickly, stuffing cake into his mouth.

For a few minutes, Arthur was too preoccupied sipping at his tea and staring in horror as Alfred demolished the cakes. Then he realised that their table was sitting in silence, the backdrop of others chattering and the noise of the coffee machines filtering into his consciousness, prompting him to say something. "Um... Happy with that, then?"

Alfred glanced up and smiled. "Yup! Thanks!"

"Not a problem," mumbled Arthur into his cup.

"So, uh... Apart from dressing up for work, what do you do?" asked Alfred, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm at business school. In the same year as Elizaveta, actually."

"Is that why you're living together?"

"Well, we're friends and we thought this was financially better for us in the long run."

"Ah, I guess that'd make sense. For business students to think of that, anyway."

"What about you and Kiku?"

"Computing!" declared Alfred, lifting his fork in the air as if in triumph. "I coulda done it in America, 'course, but I..." He trailed off suddenly and Arthur could clearly see the blush spreading across his face. Blinking, Arthur tilted his head in question. Alfred seemed to realise this and, with averted eyes, continued. "Well, I... uh. I wanted to see the world, I suppose – so I came here instead. I met Kiku last year and we decided to get a place together for the next three years."

"Ah, I see. Do you have a job to pay for this?"

"Nope. But my parents are, like, super-rich, so they're giving me an allowance. It's a pretty big one, actually. But, hopefully, I can find a job soon! I mean, I really want to have one. It looks like fun." He winked at Arthur then. The Englishman rolled his eyes in response. "So, what made you want to be in business. I mean, I love video games and that's why I got so into computers so...?"

"My father's a businessman. I want to have a business so massive that it will put his under." Arthur said this with a neutral expression, born of practice and prayed that Alfred would not prod that still-sore wound.

"Huh? Why d'ya wanna do that?"

Obviously Alfred had no head for subtleties.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Arthur, primly, turning his head to watch someone ordering a coffee.

"But... Isn't that why we're here? To talk? C'mon. I'm not gonna tell anyone."

Arthur's eyes sought Alfred's and locked onto them, an unimpressed expression on his face. "No. We're here to buy drinks and cake in apology for yesterday. I don't need to talk to you at all."

The American's expression soured. "What the hell, dude?! I'm trying to be nice here! It's obvious you've got something bothering you if you're going that far-"

"Don't talk as if you know me!"

"That's the whole point! I want you to talk to me so I can know you!"

"Well, I don't care what you want! I've had enough of this – Elizaveta is always meddling."

"Huh?"

With a half-amused grunt, Arthur stood. "Forget about it. Goodbye Alfred. And good riddance."

"Hey! You stuffy Brit!" cried Alfred, looking as though he wanted to hit Arthur. But Arthur didn't listen and only paused to put his trench coat on. Then, without a backwards glance at the irritated younger man, Arthur swept from the café.

Elizaveta was not happy, to put it lightly. She scolded Arthur for, firstly, not considering it a date and then for walking out on him before it had really begun. Arthur, of course, told her he had no need to be set up on dates and insisted that he was perfectly fine not knowing Alfred.

After a couple of days, Arthur finally saw him again. Elizaveta had, apparently, been getting to know Kiku whilst Arthur had been avoiding them and, without consulting Arthur, invited them both to their flat for a dinner. In fact, the first he knew of it was when she started clattering around the kitchen.

"What on Earth are you doing?" he sighed, noting the numerous utensils and ingredients littering the units.

"Cooking. Something you do not do," replied Elizaveta with a grin. She had a twinkle in her eye and Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Don't worry. Just... go to the living room and let me deal with this."

"They're coming down, aren't they?" Arthur groaned, recognising the look.

"Igen!" sang the woman. "Now, off with you! You're in my way!"

"But I want a cup of tea!" cried Arthur even as he was shoved from the room and the door slammed in his face.

It wasn't long until he heard the knock and he hurried through the hall to answer. "Good evening," he said to Kiku, trying to ignore Alfred.

The Japanese man looked up at him with a smile, a games console in his arms. "Good evening, Kirkland-san. Eliza- Gomen. Liz-chan said that I should bring this with us so that we can play Mario Kart."

"Oh?" asked Arthur, stepping aside to let Kiku in. "She didn't tell me that. Then again, she failed to mention you were visiting at all." Alfred snorted, returning Arthur's glare when he deigned to look at him.

"Yes, she said you may not be comfortable to dine with us after... the other day..." Kiku frowned a little in Alfred's direction.

At this point, the kitchen door opened and a smell of meat and baking wafted down the hall as Liz poked her head out. "Ah! Kiku!" she cried. "You simply must help me with this sushi! I'm afraid I am not doing so well."

Arthur's brain worked quickly, informing him that, should Kiku go to the kitchen, he would be left alone with Alfred. "I'll help!" he cried at the exact moment Alfred yelled the same, his eyes wide.

Both Elizaveta and Kiku raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think either of you know how to make sushi," Liz pointed out.

So that was how Arthur found himself fiddling with the TV, trying to assist the American he had come to hate the most to set up the XBox or Wii or whichever games console it was. He was having difficulty because, not only had he been embarrassed by the scene in the hall, Alfred was making fun of his lack of knowledge about technology.

"You'd think you'd know, what with being a business student."

"Belt it," growled Arthur through his gritted teeth. Finally, he located the slot the cable was meant for and pushed it in, wobbling on his knees a little.

"Woah there, dude!" cried Alfred. "Watch it!" he added as Arthur felt hands on his hips. He was pulled backwards as he gasped in surprise. Landing awkwardly on the floor beside Alfred, he glanced round with wide eyes.

"What the hell-!" he began.

"Sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry! You just looked like you were gonna fall into the TV!"

There was a short pause before Arthur scrambled to his feet and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, thank you, I suppose."

Alfred quickly got to his feet as well, smiling at the Brit. "Heh, it was nothing. Just, lighten up, 'kay?"

"'Lighten up'?" Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to say that I'm no fun?"

Weighing up his options, Alfred licked his lips before grinning. "Yup! Exactly! Betcha can't beat me in a race," he added, gesturing at the TV.

Rolling up his sleeves, Arthur grabbed a controller, glaring at Alfred all the while. "We'll just see about that!" he declared.

And that was why, a few minutes later, when the two cooks appeared to drag them through to the dinner table, they found them viciously arguing yet again. Shouts of 'cheat!' and 'you hustled me!' reverberated around the room.

It was a miracle no-one died that night.

Ten-pin bowling, sending Alfred to Arthur with forgotten papers, a chance encounter on the stairwell: all were used by Elizaveta in an attempt to get them to talk without arguing. Of course, at least half of the time they spent in each other's company, they would be able to talk civilly. The rest often descended to stupid arguments which ended when they both stormed off, enraged.

Arthur, meanwhile, was quite annoyed that all he could think about and talk to Elizaveta about was how infuriating the American could be. He would be making a cup of tea and suddenly find himself fuming over something the man had done the day before when he had bumped into him. The tea would calm him for a short while but he would inevitably return to dwelling on all of Alfred's bad points.

It did not help that Elizaveta would smirk whenever the conversation turned to him. Arthur would scowl at her whenever this happened. But, no matter how many times he told her to stop scheming, she would always come up with an excuse to leave them both alone.

The last straw was when she insisted they have a calming night in on a Friday night. She picked the film and Stardust was thrown on. At first, Arthur was quite happy to watch and laugh at the right moments. He enjoyed himself until the scene in the caravan, when Elizaveta looked pointedly at him as Yvaine said, "But I also know that it can be unpredictable, unexpected, uncontrollable, unbearable and strangely easy to mistake for loathing". At that point, Arthur stormed from the room and holed himself up there for the next few hours.

He wasn't bothered again until early the next afternoon. There was a knock on his bedroom door and, reluctantly, he allowed Elizaveta to enter. She looked sheepish, to her credit. "Arthur..." she said as he stared back down at his books.

"Yes?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry. I... Well, I want to say sorry so... I was thinking a nice dinner would be good. In a restaurant."

At this, he perked up. "Oh?" he asked, smiling slightly. Elizaveta did not look relieved, however, and his smile was quickly replaced with a frown. "What's the problem?"

"Well... I feel I should apologise to Alfred as well..."

This did not fool Arthur. "No. Oh, no. You are not sending us off to a restaurant. Just stop-"

"No! No, no! I did not mean that at all. You see... Alfred has not been happy and has been taking it out on Kiku – you know, snapping at him too easily. So I thought that all four of us...? After all, you have hardly spoken to either of them and I know you would enjoy Kiku's company! You can ignore Alfred and talk to Kiku if you'd like."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to set me and Kiku up now?"

"What do you think of me?" cried Elizaveta, looking rather upset.

Sighing, Arthur glanced at his watch. "I'm going to visit my mother now. I'll meet you at the place."

Relieved, Liz moved further into the room and threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Arthur! You're a great friend!"

"I know," sighed Arthur, hugging her back. "And you're such a handful, too."

When Arthur finally arrived at the chosen restaurant, he reached the door at the same instant as Alfred. They stared at each other for a moment. Then Arthur wrenched the door open and they strode inside.

"Table for... Honda, I believe?" Arthur told the maître d', remembering the text he had received whilst at his mother's house.

The man at the podium nodded and selected two menus. Arthur thought this a little odd if there were supposed to be four but decided that, perhaps, they would retrieve menus when the others turned up. The Englishman and the American followed him until they stopped at a table clearly meant for two. Both Arthur and Alfred froze, their eyes flitting to each other before they rounded on the maître d'.

"What on Earth is going on? We are booked for four, are we not?"

"Yeah!" added Alfred. "Our friends are supposed to be here!"

"I am sorry, sirs," said the man, though he looked unfazed and unconcerned. "The man on the phone said that he was booking for friends and it was for two." With that, he placed the menus on the table and returned to his duties.

Arthur stared at Alfred, wondering whether to just walk out. However, a glance at the scrumptious food on the nearby table made him pull a chair out (rather violently) and sit down. If Alfred wanted to walk out, he could. However, Arthur wanted to eat and he would do so here. He glared at Alfred in challenge and, after a few seconds of consideration on his part, Alfred sat, too, returning the glare.

"This is ridiculous," grumbled Arthur.

"Tell me about it, agreed Alfred.

"I told Elizaveta to stop with her meddling," sighed Arthur.

"Mm." Silence descended for a moment before: "Why is she meddling, anyway?" asked Alfred.

Staring at him shock, Arthur didn't realise he was blushing till Alfred blinked at him from behind his glasses. Looking away, he said, "I... er, may... have bad luck when it comes to relationships. Elizaveta adores her matchmaking."

"But why me? It's obvious you don't like me."

"That's not necessarily true," Arthur mumbled to himself.

"Really?" asked Alfred, sounding surprised and pleased.

Looking back at him, Arthur returned his hesitant smile with one of his own. Then he coughed and looked away. "N-Not that you've been giving me a good impression."

"Neither have you, buddy," retorted Alfred. "I mean, forgetting the first day, I thought we were doing okay until the thing about your dad in Starbucks."

They locked eyes when Arthur raised his, finally. With a sigh, he gazed down at his unopened menu. "It's... a sore subject, that's all."

"Well, tell me about it over dinner," said Alfred, shrugging and smiling lightly when Arthur glanced up at him.

"You actually want us to have a discussion?" asked Arthur in surprise.

"Of course I do! I mean... you're not the only one who could use a little help in their love life, I suppose." He looked sheepish now. "That first day I was a little nervous and I tend to just... well, word-vomit is the best way to describe it, really."

"Hm," Arthur nodded. "I... Well, us Brits don't tend to introduce ourselves to neighbours, so I was nervous, too. I'm afraid I acted awfully harsh towards you. Sorry."

"And I'm sorry, too. How about we start over?"

As he stared at his dining companion, Arthur's mind began noting things about Alfred he had not seen before – he had been too stubborn to have his eyes opened to them. Firstly, he noted the excited gleam in Alfred's eyes, his enthusiastic grin. His hair, blonde and combed, a stubborn strand not sitting right. An ironed shirt and jeans, which may be rather casual for a dinner in this sort of restaurant, but Arthur felt that he looked rather dashing. And that voice, which he had noticed before, of course, seemed to relax him.

With a small, polite smile, Arthur held his hand out. "Arthur Kirkland."

"Alfred F. Jones," said Alfred in a rush, grabbing his hand and shaking it with gusto.

"It's working, it's working!" cried Elizaveta, punching the air and clapping Kiku on the shoulder. The smaller man only smiled. "Do you think they'll be going to bed tonight?"

"I do not know. But I hope they make sure we cannot hear them..." said Kiku.

Elizaveta turned to him, her smile wide. She was wearing a green dress with straps instead of sleeves, the dress ending at her knees and twirling when she spun. Her hair was pinned back with a pink ornament in the shape of a rose. A shawl was draped over her elbows and she was clutching a pink purse. It was obvious she had dressed up for a night out. Kiku, meanwhile, was dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans, blending in with the shadows.

"You are a genius, Kiku!" she declared.

Kiku shook his head. "No, Liz-chan. I simply took a chance. I am sorry that I did not tell you of my plans. You came all the way here..."

"Oh, nonsense!" cried Liz, linking arms with her new friend. "There are plenty of restaurants around. Let's go eat."

Kiku nodded and, after sparing the couple a glance to find them chuckling to themselves, followed Liz.

So, some things not said in the story: Firstly, Arthur loves accents. Alfred, meanwhile, adores the English accent and that's why he went to England. He's also gay which, I suppose, I never pointed out. This is why he gets so flustered when he first meets Artie and any other time he seems to blush/whatever for no real reason.

Arthur's dad is a jerk. He was rich but abandoned his family to pursue his career. So, annoyed, Arthur decided to get revenge - even if it would be slow going.

Normally, Japanese people would probably not call people with the -chan suffix so soon. But Liz insisted.

I was gonna totally have a bit with Roddy in it but... *shrug* Didn't find the right bit to add him in.

Igen means yes, kerem means please and dragan means dear - if I've typed them from memory. (I'm being lazy today.)

The Sherlock Holmes Museum totally have people dressed like their from the Victorian era. Pretty cool, huh?

I did not realise that Starbucks actually had more than one sort of tea, like most coffee places. Bet it's still awful, though. (I don't ever get tea from these sorts of places cause I always find they taste awful and sort of projected that onto Arthur. But I bet you any amount of money that most tea drinkers in Britain think the same. Frankly, I was surprised they had Earl Grey.)

I'm sorry that I skimmed over the arguments so much. I don't think I'm very good at arguments without content...

I think that's all I need to say. I hope it wasn't too awful.