Hey! It's me, BlackAngel873.

I am so sorry, its been way too long since I last posted a fic. I'm losing my touch. I start a fic really strong and have such a determination to finish, but then the fire is lost and it just sits there...

Anyway, I hope you like this piece. It's based on a true story (I know so many interesting people).

Late Night Creep

Two men stumble into the house, giggling madly and hiccuping. Their faces were flushed pink, and their breath reeked of alcohol. The moon was low in the sky, the stars already fading.

"Dude," Slurred Alfred, "I can't believe you did that!"

Arthur pushed the other meekly. "Belt up!"

"I mean, jumping on stage and singing country!"

"We will never speak of it again." The pink on his face darken, but he was too drunk to care.

Both crashed down on the couch, coming down from their highs. They sat there for a moment in a daze before Arthur's eyes widen in horror. He grabbed the nearest pillow, and smack Alfred's face with it.

"Ow! What was that for ?!" He asked while still being pelted repeatedly by the semi-soft custion.

"You bloodly wanker!" The Brit shouted, "My plane leaves in three hours!" His face was still red but now out of anger. The American wrapped his arms around the pillow as it came down and held on. "Let go!"

"Thats what you're mad about?"

"Of course, I'm mad! You just made me miss my flight!"

"Dude, you just said you had three hours, go get your stuff."

Arthur slouched back into the couch in a huff, raking his hand through his hair. "By the time I get my luggage and get through your stupid security, it'll already be too late."

Alfred tossed the pillow to the side, and gave Arthur an apologetic look. "Sorry, man."

Arthur brush it off. "Its fine. I'll just catch the next flight. In the mean time, I'm going to take a shower."

" 'Ite, I'm gonna go to sleep. You can take the guest bed."

"Thanks, good night."

"G'night"

Alfred plopped down on to the bed, not even changing into something more comfortable sleepware, he was too tired. Just as he about to fall asleep,-knock, knock, knock.

"What?" He asked from his bed, annoyed. Knock, knock, knock. "Artie, if you're looking for some clothes to wear, just some of mine." Knock, knock, knock. "What do you want?!" He finally looked up from his bed expecting to see Arthur at his door only to find that no one was there. The shower was running.

Knock, knock, knock.

The color drained from Alfred's face. He jumped out of bed, getting tangled up in the bed sheets, then ran down the halled to the bathroom. He banged on the down frightenly, almost leaving a dent, until Arthur finally came out.

"What?' His hair was still dripping wet, and the pant he quickly put on clung to his still wet skin.

"I think there's a ghost here!" Alfred said in all seriousness. Arthur stared at him for a moment then laughed.

"Alfred, there are no ghosts."

"There is! I heard one!"

"What exactly did you hear?"

Knock, knock, knock.

"That." said the trembling man.

Arthur straighten in attention, eyes as wide as Alfred's. He quickly walked into the living room, listening to the walls for the knocking. He peaked out the window through the blinds cauously, but saw nothing. Knock, knock, knock.

"Is someone out there?" Asked Alfred. Arthur shook his head.

"I can't see anything." He paused, thinking of what to do nexted, then looked to Alfred. "You're going out to check.'

"What?! No!" He shook his head vigorously. "I ain't going out there!"

Knock, knock, knock.

"What the matter? The hero is too scared?" Arthur taunted, all the while smirking in his head.

Knock, knock, knock.

"The hero isn't scared of anything!" Alfred stopped shaking and held his head high, falling for Arthur's trick.

He hurried to his room, and from the bedside table, he grabbed his handgun and loaded it. He didn't like the idea of ever firing it outside a shooting range, but if someone was outside, he had to have some kind of protection. As he went back into the living room, he ushered Arthur away from the door and windows. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, before putting hand on the door knob.

Knock, knock, knock.

He swung the door open, pointing the gun at the man in front of him.

"Ne tirez pas! Ne tirez pas!" The man screamed, hands shielding his face. Alfred's heart slowed as he took a good look at the man.

"Francis?"

"Oui!"

Arthur nugded Alfred aside to glare at the Frenchman. "What the bloodly hell are you doing here? Was that you knocking on the walls? Couldn't you just knock on the door like a normal person?!"

"Désolé, I thought Alfred was asleep, so I figured I could wake him wake by knocking on his window."

"Jesus, man." Alfred said, letting out a sigh and unloading his gun. "You nearly gave us a heart attack."

"Désolé." Francis said again, relaxing fully now that the gun unloaded.

"So, What are you doing here, Frog?" Arthur demanded.

"My boos called me and said there are some papers I needed to collect from Alfred."

"Couldn't it wait until morning?" Alfred moaned, feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over him.

"Non, my plane will be leaving soon. I need them now."

"Fine." Alfred stepped aside to let Francis in. Arthur was still glaring at him.

"Next time, Alfred, just shoot."

French translations:

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

"Yes"

"Sorry"

"No"

Hoped you liked it. Pleases leave a review!