Arthur gazed wistfully out of the window, allowing himself a rare moment of gross self indulgment; watching as that young American teacher called the children outside to attention. (It was clearly an outdoor lesson, Arthur thought with a smirk.) Although he couldn't hear the actual words Mr Jones spoke, he stared at his lips moving, the muscles in his arms flexing and the way his shirt hitched up a little when he started walking around to reveal a little bit too much of that deliciously tanned skin, and sighed.

It was such a shame.

All the older students knew Mr Kirkland was gay: in fact, it was usually the first thing anyone mentioned about him.

"You know the english teacher, Mr Kirkland?"
"The gay one?"
"Yeah."

Arthur knew they knew too. He really didn't care. So he continued to stare quite openly at the gorgeous man outside whilst absent-mindedly drawing on a notepad on his desk - sketching Mr Jones.
With a small start, he heard the school bell ring for the end of a lesson, and he grimaced. That was the end of his peace and quiet then. Straightening his tie, he waited for his class to file in.

When the older students walked into his class only a few minutes later than they should've done, Arthur greeted them all with an uncharacteristic half-smile.
But then he heard a snatch of muffled laughter from the back of the room, and he blanched at the words that accompanied it.
"Look at Mr Kirkland!" It was a girl's voice, although he couldn't put a face to it - bloody American accents! "He's tots got the hots for Mr Jones."

Grimacing not only at the atrocious grammar, Arthur stood up from his desk with a frown.

That was the second thing anyone said about Mr Kirkland. He really was incredibly grumpy.

"Now we're finally all here, you can start by showing your groups the notes you made on last lesson's work…"

The next half of the class passed smoothly. Arthur didn't look out of the window more than twice, none of the students noticed when he did and when the groups began his discussions he managed to mark some of the books that were creeping across his tiny desk.

Outwardly anyway.

Inside, Arthur's mind whirled; he couldn't stop thinking about the younger teacher with his hypnotisingly blue eyes. They had ensnared his mind, and eventually Arthur gave up marking. Instead he allowed his vivid imagination to run wild, indulging himself in dirty fantasies of passion, very glad that the students (who were definitely old enough to know) couldn't see the blush that was flooding his cheeks as he imagined slamming the Mr Jones hard against the desk, kissing hard down his neck-

Loud chatter began to bounce around his ears, distracting Arthur from his daydreams of the fit young man tidying up from his previous lesson outside his window.

As he sighed deeply, his nose ached and then a spot of blood landed on the papers on the desk. Looking up in a daze, he touched a slim finger to his nose, feeling the slick blood that was dripping down slowly into his mouth. Startled, he looked around for a tissue: why weren't there any goddamn tissues when he needed them?!

The students had realised something was happening.

"Look! Michelle, pass me a tissue. Mr Kirkland 'as a nosebleed," The blonde, long haired boy stood up from the back of the classroom, and Arthur groaned internally. Francis bloody Bonnefoy, bane of his existance. Pretty boy extraordinare, and also bloody French.

Arthur sighed, trying to be dignified even as his nose gushed like no-man's business.

"Francis, if you want to be helpful, kindly go and find another teacher to watch you while I call for a supply. I need to clean myself up." The boy nodded with a smirk, before sauntering out of the back door to-

Mr Jones. Oh god.

Watching helplessly as Francis gestured to the younger teacher, Arthur radioed in to the office.

"Arthur Kirkland to the Office, can you send an Eng Lit supply to room E12? An Eng Lit supply to E12, thank you." He looked to the window, where Francis was returning with a worried looking Alfred Jones in tow. Francis sat back down in his seat as Alfred rushed over to Arthur's desk.

"Are you okay?" he muttered quietly, handing Arthur a rumpled tissue. Palming it quickly, Arthur tilted his head back, allowing the blood to stream into the thin material.

"Tanks'. There's a subbly cobing, so you only neeb to stay a minute or two."

With that, Arthur virtually ran out of the room.

His cheeks were burning, definitely only red from the nose bleed.

Arthur had used up a whole wad of toilet paper and his nose was only just starting to slow. The sticky fluid was making it difficult to breathe and blood was still hitting the back of his throat, making him cough. Glancing at the mirror in front of him, Arthur winced. He looked a total mess; his eyes were red, his nose was swollen and his normally pale lips were dark with blood.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, trying desperately not to think about Alfred.

But in seconds, a loud bang awoke Arthur from his not-day-dreaming. Spinning around quickly, Arthur saw Alfred himself in the doorway, eyebrows knitted in concern.

"Still got that nosebleed then?"
Alfred asked, voice carrying with a slight echo through the otherwise empty staff toilet. Arthur flushed a deep red, gesturing outside.

"No, I think it's finally stopping. Has the supply arrived?" Arthur glared pointedly at the other man, green eyes flashing. The tissue Arthur was holding (crushing in embarassment) started to drip onto his hand and hurriedly he tried to pull a square of tissue out of the dispenser, when Arthur felt a warm, rough hand over his own.

He hadn't heard Alfred move closer, but he was right there, virtually nose to nose with Arthur. Melting ever-so-slightly inside, Arthur looked up into those heavenly blue eyes, too bright, too stunning to be real.

"Let me get that for you," Alfred murmed huskily and, oh god, Arthur could hear his voice lower with want.

"O-Okay."

Slowly, Alfred moved the bloody tissue away from Arthur's nose before cupping a warm hand under his chin to tilt his head back, gently holding a clean tissue to the top of Arthur's lip. Arthur could feel the heat in his cheeks rise, could feel his heartbeat skip and his fingers, hanging limply by his hips, twitch. Still holding that tender stare, Arthur took the smallest of steps forward, just enough that Alfred had to move his hand as their faces grew ever closer.

Arthur felt another hand cup his cheek and then he couldn't help it, the tension was fucking unbearable.

He pushed himself up onto his tip-toes and ghosted his lips against Alfred's.

The kiss barely lasted a moment, but Alfred's whole face was burning, he was pulling backwards, and Arthur didn't move because oh god, oh god, he'd messed up, he'd fucked it up again, oh god.

"I'm so s-sorry," Arthur stuttered, "I sw-swear, I just, I th-thought, oh shi-"

He was effectively cut off as Alfred met his lips and he couldn't say another word, because this time it was angry and powerful. This time they moved together, their mouths finding just the right position, and Arthur was being pushed back into the mirror, his hands finding Alfred's waist even as his own hips were crushed into the cold surface of the sinks and Alfred was running his hands through Arthur's already tousled hair. Arthur groaned in pleasure and Alfred ran his tongue along the bottom of Arthur's already slightly parted lips, demanding the entrance that Arthur craved so badly. Their tongues met in a furious dance and it was warm and wet and although Arthur knew he tasted like blood, Alfred tasted like coke and for once Arthur loved the sweet flavour. He pushed a slim knee up between Alfred's legs, illiciting a heated moan from Alfred as he did so, Arthur's hands sliding down to stroke his inner thigh, causing shivers even through thick material. Arthur dragged his lips down to Alfred's neck, sucking hard enough to leave a deep hickey, before reconnecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss.

It was better than any of Arthur's fantasies.

Needing to breathe, the two men broke apart, flushed with sweat and desire, still connected by a thin trail of saliva.
With a grin (oh, ohhh that grin) Alfred wiped it from Arthur's open mouth, fingers fumbling as his breathing hitched.

"Erm," Arthur tried, but he couldn't, for once, find the words he needed.

And for once, Alfred knew exactly what to say.

"I've wanted to do that since… Forever," he smiled, "But, you know, we probably shouldn't carry on in the school. Pupils…" he ended with a mysterious (and Jesus fucking Christ was it sexy) wink. Arthur smiled back.
"Do you want to meet up for a drink after school?" he breathed, fingers crossed lightly behind Alfred's back.

"Oh yeah, definitely. But, hey, look!" Alfred frowned slightly, making Arthur worry, until Alfred grinned again, lightly poking Arthur's nose at the same time.

"My amazing kissing stopped your nosebleed! How awesome is that?"

Arthur just playing squeezed his arse, pulling Alfred in closer as he did so.

"All you have to do now is make sure none of the kids see how hard you are," Arthur smirked as he whispered throatily into Alfred's ear. Alfred blushed because, shit, was that accent sexy, and he watched dumbstruck as Arthur sauntered out of the bathroom, ass wiggling suggestively.

Arthur hadn't felt this good in years.

But neither teacher noticed the blonde haired French boy with his phone camera out, who was smiling like a cat with a whole bathroom full of cream.

AN - This was originally going to be a oneshot but I couldn't resist putting that last bit! I will write some more... Mwahahaha! I wrote this for one of my friends to laugh at as a joke but it ended up a bit more... Exciting, shall I say? Anyway, part one of a twoshot for you to enjoy (and hopefully R&R?)