My first real fanfiction, it's an AU with artist!Alfred and businessman!Arthur. This is something I wrote at 2 : 30 in the morning...it's been a hit on my deviantart page and perhaps here too! So please enjoy chapter 1!~

The painting was of a man with golden blond hair, bright green eyes, thick eyebrows and a smile that whenever Alfred saw it his heart melted.
Which in turn to that Alfred dabbed his paintbrush into the red paint to add a final touch, but instead splattered it all over the canvas letting out curses and grunts. Eventually he yelled in frustration and threw the painting across his room.
Instantly he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs, in came his little brother, violet eyes frantic, his chest heaving.
"Alfred? What's wrong?" he stammered. Alfred pouted and crossed his legs on the stool, not looking at his brother.
"nothin, Mattie." his twin Matthew sighed and shook his head.
"what are you painting now?"
"it's not a what it's a who!" Alfred snapped flashing his brother a glare. "and he is the most beautiful man in the world and I want to paint his image. Perfectly. Like he is."
Alfred had always been able to paint, draw, sculpt, and he'd always do it-as he saw it-perfectly. Everyone loved his art, thats why he could support himself and his little twin. But, recently, he hasn't even been able to paint. His mind is full of the man he met at the coffee shop he went to, and now he was trying to paint that gorgeous man.
"a man then, eh? What's his name?" Matthew asked curiously.
"...ow." Alfred mumbled.
"what was that?"
"I don't know." he pouted again.
"you've...never talked to him?"
"no."
Matthew pursed his lips and looked down at his converse.
"not even once? And you're...trying to paint...him?"
"yes! Is that hard to figure out?" Alfred said louder than he wanted, and he ended up knocking over his cup of brushes which made his little twin cringe away. Damn it! He was just so frustrated!
Alfred sighed and started to pick up the brushes. "look, I'm sorry. It's just, I'm bad with people and I'm afraid I'm going to mess up. He's just...so...perfect."
"where'd you meet him?" Matthew asked.
"I was at an art meeting with Francis' new cafe, and he was a customer there. He was just sitting there with a girl, a tan one, most likely foreign. And his smile..." Alfred felt his cheeks flush.
Matthew chuckled lightly, walking over and patting his brother on the shoulder.
"it's alright, Al. Hey, how about tomorrow we visit Francis and we ask him about that man? He knows everyone who comes in there. How's that sound?" Matthew smiled softly at his brother. Alfred bit his lip and turned to him adjusting his glasses.
" I don't know...I'm bad with people. I'm just an artist mattie."
"I'll help you. I hate seeing you not painting."
Matthew picked up the last of the brushes on the floor and set them on his brother wooden, paint covered table. "tomorrow at noon. Okay? Do you have any meetings?"
"one. It should be over by then."
"alright. Night , Al." his brother patted his head and left the room silently, leaving Alfred to his thoughts.
What am I going to do? What will I say? 'hey I've been painting you. Wanna hang out?' that's so creepy!
Alfred groaned loudly and slumped onto the long roll of paper he had set out earlier and rolled it over so it was a blanket.
He squinted his eyes at the clock, the red digital numbers reading ;
3 : 23 a.m.
He had a meeting in less then 4 hours.

7 : 00 am. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, have tea, drag his little brother to school, coffee, work.
The same routine every morning.
Arthur Kirkland was 23 years old and successful. He owned several business franchises-they were small but hey he made money-and took care of his little brother. To say he was busy was an understatement.
A major understatement.
And he wished every morning he'd wake up, and something new happened.
However this wasn't one of those mornings.
With a long groan of discomfort, Arthur stretched out his back after getting out of bed, a small crack residing around the room. Satisfied with his stretch, he lugged his exhausted body down stairs to where his little blond brother was already chowing down on sugary cereal.
"mornin' sunshine!" Peter, his little brother, snickered. "nice hair."
Arthur only growled in response, opening the fridge to see what was inside. Nothing.
Joy.
"hey, that uh...Seychelles woman called earlier and said she wanted to meet you for coffee."
Ah yes, her. The woman his parents gave him. She was kind, sweet, loyal, but he didn't love her. He thought he did at first, but he quickly realized it was because his parents said to.
He grunted as a response.
Realizing there was no breakfast and no tea, he urged his little brother to go to school. Peter whined and fought, but Arthur always won. Always.
So after a battle and a kick to the chin, he had Peter sitting shot gun and he was speeding down the downtown road of Holland.
As Peter talked about what he was going to do today-Arthur completely ignoring him-Arthur took the time at the red lights to let his mind wander.
Mostly he thought about how to make that woman happy today, then he'd think about what his life would be like...with excitement. Instead of this.
"hey, green light dude!" Peter snapped Arthur out of his day dream, furrowing his thick eyebrows he stepped roughly on the accelerator and made it to the school.
He made sure Peter got safely inside before he began his way to his favorite coffee shop.
The Le Domestique (In French of course but he hated that language) was a small retro cafe that opened up a year ago, and on a whim arthur went inside to see what was so popular.
Wow.
Not only was the coffee delicious-and the tea but he accidentally ordered coffee that day-but the people were kind and cheerful despite it being 9 am earlier in the morning, and the art.
The art.
Gorgeous pieces of work that were masterfully painted and displayed in that small place. Why wasn't that painter in a museum? Maybe they were, but who had time to talk to the artist? Did the artist had time for him?
He'd give anything to meet the artist.
A serene sigh passed over his lips as he pulled up snugly into his usual parking space at the coffee shop.
He stepped out of the car and greeted a few customers that had left.
When he entered, the smell of the place-like home and safety, comfortable-filled his nose. And he was instantly awake.
"good morning, Arthur," Arthur turned to see the Seychelles woman walking up in her usual turquoise dress.
"good morning. How are you?"
"lovely, did you order yet?" arthur shook his head.
"who's working?"
"my brother," she grimaced. Arthur groaned inwardly. The owner of the joint, the perverted frenchman who flirted with him whenever he ordered his coffee. "he's busy with a customer right now so maybe you could get Antonio."
Arthur nodded and scurried up to the front, just in time to meet the spaniard.
But what caught his attention was the man talking to Francis.
A boy of twenty or so with short sunshine blond hair, baby blue bright eyes behind large glasses-hipster were they called?-a t-shirt with that American comic book Hero's symbol on it, and skinny jeans with paint stains on them.
He was cute.
"sir! Hey!" Arthur snapped out of his trance, only to see the boy blushing and scurrying back to a far table. "Arthur, me amigo, you're staring again!"
"ah, I apologize."
"you like him, Arthur?" the Frenchman giggled as he leaned on the counter. Arthur scowled at him and quickly ordered his regular.
"no. He's just..."
"cute?" Francis offered. "I know. 'e asked about you,"
Arthur flushed.
"really?"
"oui. 'is name is Alfred jones."
Alfred Jones. Where had he heard that name before?
"here you go! Fresh and hot!" Antonio beamed handing him the drink. "and it's free!"
"oh...Antonio I couldn't..."
"on me!" the spaniard was so kind to him, to everyone. He wished he could spend more time with him.
"thank you. Oh," Arthur jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his boss. "hello? Ah, Roderick sir. Can I help you?"
The two pals at the other edge of the counter watched as Arthur's face twisted into anger, but through gritted teeth Arthur finished the conversation. "yea of course sir right away. Bye."
"an early call?" francis sighed shaking his head. "what an ass. You shouldn't have to do this."
"si. It isn't healthy!" Antonio pouted.
"your kindness is enough, really but I have to go."
Arthur stood up and grabbed his drink, he apologized to the woman who was chatting with her hungarian friend, and as he left let himself look at the strange man named Alfred one more time. Surely he'd heard that name before.

Right after the meeting with his client, Felinciano, an ecstatic Italian man who is setting up a house for his boyfriend, Alfred rushed over to the coffee shop, practically throwing himself through the doors.
Everyone inside jumped and stared, a few conversations halting.
Francis at the counter laughed a bit as Alfred stumbled over, his large hipster glasses askew.
"did I-I miss him?" he panted.
Francis shook his head.
"non. 'e 'asn't arrived yet. Now, you said Arthur?"
"yeah, I saw him here the other day and-!"
"lovely isn't he?" Francis interrupted. "those green eyes, I 'eard 'e was rich too, owns several companies."
"he is very cute..." Alfred sighed. It definitely was love at first sight, and all Alfred thought about was arthur and wanting to paint him. "I've been trying to paint him for the past week but I can't get it! And it frustrates me!"
"calm down mon ami, calm down. 'e'll be back soon. But I can't guarantee that. Oh, 'e enjoys your art too, 'e loves to stare and enjoy it."
Alfred felt himself flush a deep red. "so, would you like me to hook you up?"
"r-r-really? You'd do that?" Alfred spluttered out. Francis laughed and leaned on the counter.
"oui."
"how do you...know him?" Alfred asked. Francis leaned back and tapped his slightly bearded chin.
"we met in high school in junior year. We used to date."
"ah! Cool!"
"so would like me to hook you up?"
Alfred nodded eagerly.
"yes! Yes!"
And right after he left, he went to the art store to buy a new canvas, sketch pad, and brushes.