Okay, I can't believe I'm already starting a new story here and I try not to do multiple stories at a time since it's very taxing.

Man, I want to start my piloting lessons stat, but my mom wants me to finish school first (Damn you shooooolll! -Shakes fist at the sky-). I don't really know much about aviation either, so I'll be researching as much as possible from now on :)

So, is it interesting that I made Arthur the pilot instead of Alfred :D Lol, normally Alfred would suit the position more, but I like how this sounds, haven't really seen anything that has Arthur as an aviator. Alfred's always one :D So I've decided to give the American a break and let the Brit take to the skies. Lol, I love how dumb that phrase sounds. So without further ado, here's the first chapter to the story. Enjoy.

XXXX

Even though his mother and father had grumbled about how costly it all was, Arthur Kirkland had managed to convince them into getting him into aviation lessons when he was thirteen. He had been taught how to fly a Boeing Stearman, taking off of the ground for the first time at fifteen, for the paranoia of crashing by his parents kept him from doing so until they deemed him 'responsible'. He was finally able to fly solo the next year. He was so thrilled that he almost crashed the plane. His dad had grounded him from the machine for three months. Then his mom died in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver who drove a large GMC, smashing it into her tiny, low to the ground Toyota. Arthur had flown that day for as long as he could, running the plane out of its fuel and almost crashing again. He was grounded for six months that time. He was able to fly again as his seventeenth birthday present.

Arthur was currently eighteen, attending his last year of high school. He had moved to America with his family job wise at twelve, living in the state of Minnesota for a long time. His Boeing Stearman resided in the Crystal airport, which wasn't a public one mind you, while he lived in downtown Minneapolis. After his mom had died, he and his father had been forced into an apartment due to bills and the lack of money since his mother was the one with the job racking in all of the cash. Now he feared for losing his precious plane, giving that they were struggling to even pay for the apartment. His annoying, semi-friend colleague who was, unfortunately and fortunately, rich, had loaned him just enough to keep his aircraft. Francis was his name and the guy was a damn pervert.

Francis was two years Arthur's senior with shoulder length blond hair that was rather wavy. If it weren't for his beard, one could easily mistake the Frenchman for a girl. It had happened with one of the guy's new students and best of all, Arthur was present when it happened. Francis had punished the poor soul by charging him extra for the first few weeks before finally cooling off. He was so arrogant and annoying and Arthur didn't understand why he hung out with the frog at all. That was until his mother died tragically in that car accident. Being a semi-friend of Francis, a rich pervert, suddenly became a huge benefit. The only negative thing about it was that the guy was currently forcing Arthur to do things for him and if he didn't, he wouldn't get the money to pay for his plane.

He didn't exactly have much of a problem with that when Francis made that offer, desperate to keep one of his escapes from reality (other than books and music). It became a problem, though, when he started asking for rather…perverted favors. Arthur had told him that he'd think about it and was still thinking about it a few weeks later. He most certainly did not want to have sex with the Frenchman, but it was his only choice if he wanted to keep his biplane.

They had met when Arthur was just finishing sixth grade. Since he was a social outcast, he had been bullied often ever since he arrived in America, normally on his walk home when school was finished. He was on his way when three boys decided to be 'cool' and started pushing him around, stealing his notebooks in the process. Arthur wasn't very bold back then, being new to the country, so he ended up crying, being teased for acting like a baby. Lo and behold, Francis just happened to be walking home from a tennis match and beat the three kids so bad they ended up being the cry-babies.

At first, the two got along so well you would think that they were siblings, appearances put aside. But when Arthur's first year of high school rolled around, things got a little messy in between the two. Francis had stared fussing over Arthur almost crashing his plane on his first solo flight and Arthur was getting irritated with how the wavy blond acted like his mother. Once it was settled, they were a little sour towards each other after all of the arguments they had over Arthur's dangerous situation. Arthur's mood towards Francis started to get less sour with Francis for a while until his mother died, making him extremely hard to be with, along with the second time Arthur had almost crashed.

Ever since people in school had figured out that he was a pilot, many girls had begged for him to take them for a fly and some even had the balls to ask pilot it. Arthur had declined the girls and had sternly stated 'no' to those who asked to fly it, if they tried to persuade him, Arthur would beat them into the waxed floor. He'd been dealing with it for two years now and didn't think it'd ever stop. They asked less frequently now, but came none the less.

Looking up from his notebook, Arthur spared the whiteboard a quick glance before continuing with his fancy writing. He wanted to get out of Francis's deal, so he had started a book a few months ago, only problem was that he was going through what most called: writers block. Plus, he wasn't even half way through his plot; this was going to be one hell of a book, for the rough draft, minus the lengthy outline, was three standard school college ruled notebooks long and going on. School had been interfering with his progress too, having teachers tell him to pay attention and having four periods that constantly required his full attention. He only got to really write during a study hall, if he didn't have any work, or lunch.

Speaking of lunch, that's what was after this period and he was happy to say that he had brainstormed and was finally digging himself out of the two week long block. Once this rough draft was done, he'd rewrite it on his laptop at home, have his dad and probably even Francis proof that, edit it to what the two had added or gotten rid of and so on until he felt it was nearly perfect.

The bell rang over the intercom and senior high school students poured out of the class and mixed with the others in the hallway. Packing his stuff away, Arthur heaved the string backpack onto his back and left. The school had said no hefty backpacks, but string backpacks were fine, it was kind of weird, but Arthur didn't complain, it was much better than hauling around a huge three-ring binder. Taking his lunch and heading to a near empty table, Arthur sat down and pulled the notebook out along with a pencil and worked as he ate.

"Heard you fly," oh joy, not another one. Looking up at a bespectacled teen he assumed was a junior, Arthur gave a venomous glare before looking back down at his notebook. "Well?"

"Yes, in fact I do, now could you please leave?" he had this part rehearsed, not even looking up from the notebook now. The other didn't leave and just simply stood there, staring at the top of his notebook very intently. Cocking a rather thick eyebrow, Arthur stopped his writing and looked up, wordlessly asking the other why he was still there before actually voicing his thoughts. "Why the bloody hell are you still standing there you prick?"

The dirty blond flinched slightly, much to Arthur's joy. "Just wonderin' if you'd show me your plane," he answered, sending a sheepish grin at Arthur. Used to this routine that came in many varieties, Arthur sighed and returned to his slow writing.

"It's not on display, now leave."

"You're kinda rude man," furrowing his eyebrows at the statement, Arthur stopped his writing once he reached the end of his sentence, glaring at the teen who had sat down just a second ago. "I'm just asking," he continued. Arthur rarely got this scenario, thus, having less experience with it. Normally, the person would either slip into a sulk and try to make him guilty or they'd just keep trying in a different way than how this guy was doing it right now. But his statement of Arthur being rude really ticked the Brit off.

"Me? Why, it's you who's being rude, you will not leave me alone when I kindly asked for you to leave," his temper was flaring, it being short and all. Out of all of his 'Can I fly/ride in your plane?' scenarios, Arthur had never been called rude. He'd been called a bastard and a few other things, but never rude. The guy in front of him just shrugged his shoulders and began stuffing his face rather grossly with his lunch, deciding to change the subject.

"Name's Alfred Jones by the way, senior, can't wait to graduate," the guy named Alfred introduced himself, food jumbling his words a tad, but Arthur still understood him. "'M seventeen, and I plan on becoming an actor too," he continued, finally swallowing his food before chugging his milk. "Who're you?"

With slight disgust, Arthur hesitantly replied. "Arthur Kirkland, nothing less, nothing more."

XXX

"Hey Artie!" looking over his shoulder at the slightly unfamiliar voice, Arthur wished that he had started the plane by now. There Alfred was, joyfully approaching his aircraft with a wave of his gloved hand, Octobers in Minnesota got pretty cold half way through the month. Arthur leaned over the side of the plane, one hand itching to press the ignition to the plane and just leave the dumb senior who was mindlessly approaching the runway.

"Get off of the runway, it's dangerous."

His advice was ignored. "So it does have a passenger seat, can I fly with you?" hell no was what Arthur wanted to say, but decided against it, not wanting to be accused of being rude again. Alfred was already halfway to his plane, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung at his side. "Wow! This thing's pretty cool," the American remarked as he got even closer, reaching out to touch the metal.

"Do not touch my plane you git, now I advise that you please leave before I accuse you of trespassing, I did most certainly did not invite you here," Arthur snapped, slapping the other's hand away before his gloved fingers could touch his aircraft. Sending a glare down at Alfred, Arthur's hand twitched toward the ignition once more; he didn't care if he ran Alfred over, he just wanted to have the damn wanker leave him alone.

Alfred looked hurt at being swatted at, but it soon dissolved as he inspected the biplane. It was a simple silver, not yellow or blue like the pictures he'd seen in an aviation book he had read when he was eight. Instead of the red white and blue circles on the tips of the wings, large British flags had been stuck over them almost carelessly. The American almost screamed when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Looking over at the person who had done so, Alfred stood face to face with a wavy haired blond. If it weren't for the beard, he would've thought he was a she.

"And who is this Angleterre?" came a voice, heavy with the French accent. Looking up at Arthur in confusion at the different name the senior was addressed by, Alfred saw a sour look forming on the Brit's facial features.

"This git is trespassing mind you, now frog, could you please kick him out?" the words stung Alfred, but he hid the fact, looking over at the Frenchman who shook his head from side to side slowly with a chuckle, Alfred was getting a little confused. He was for sure not trespassing…or was he? He didn't know, Matthew had said that he was kind of dense with this kind of stuff.

"And what about my favor you've been thinking over for the last three weeks?" Francis questioned in what sounded like a challenge. Alfred wanted to laugh at the cute blush that spread across Arthur's face, but remained silent.

"Fine, on Friday though, can't go around school after that," came a reply thick with irritation. Francis beamed at his friend (Francis considered Arthur a friend while Arthur considered Francis a semi-friend) and tightened his hold on Alfred's shoulder, getting the American's attention.

"I'll let you watch mon ami take off, but that's it," and Alfred nodded, not exactly knowing what mon ami meant. He knew that amor was love in Spanish, so he automatically assumed that ami had something to do with love even though French was a completely different ball game. That got him wondering if the young pilot was gay or not…not that he cared or anything. Though the old fashioned goggles the Brit wore were rather cute on him…

Being shaken out of his thoughts by the rev of the biplane's engine, Alfred noticed that he had been lead off of the runway and a safe distance away from the plane by Francis. Alfred liked Arthur's airplane, though he preferred the trippy looks of military aircraft over anything, the Brit's Boeing Stearman was quite the machine. The American watched as Arthur kept the aircraft still, probably checking all of his equipment before actually just driving the thing. Then finally, after what seemed like an hour, the plane began wheeling forward, gaining speed as it went down the runway.

Alfred soon learned that he loved the sound of Arthur's Boeing Stearman and that the takeoff was quite the sight to see.

Turns out Francis wasn't joking, he had actually kicked Alfred off of the small airport's property, dropping him off a block away. With a rather unenforced warning, Francis took off in his fancy car, leaving Alfred on the corner of the sidewalk. Huffing to himself moodily, Alfred stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned in the direction of his house before remembering that his own truck was at the airport. Going back would be risking something, but he turned back around and headed back to the small airport.

He felt like it was necessary to act unnecessarily stealthy as he went for his truck that was parked just outside of the fence. He even dared to play some James Bond in his head as he over exaggerated his movements before mumbling to himself. He was in his own imaginary world now, pretending to be a hero that was sneaking into the bad guy's place, narrating to himself as he went. Boy would Kiku love to see this.

Jumping into his car with a satisfied sound, Alfred jammed the keys into the ignition, mumbling to himself some more, now pretending that he was a fighter pilot. Starting his truck, Alfred pulled away from the airport and drove off, driving over the speed limit as he was stuck in his own imaginary world.

After getting an expensive speeding ticket, Alfred finally made it home, making his entrance as loud and as abrupt as possible. Strolling in and dropping the ticket on the dining table, Alfred opened the cupboard in search of food, feeling like he hadn't eaten in ages. Matthew, his cousin on his father's side, was sitting at the dining table, eating a sliced up orange as Alfred did so. He cocked his brow at the paper and picked it up, inspecting it.

"Another one?" he questioned simply, having been through this many times. Alfred's active imagination got him into a lot of trouble and it was hard to deal with when they ended having to pay money for it. Alfred gave his cousin a sheepish look before pulling out a box of Lucky Charms, one of his favorite cereals from back when he was in elementary school.

Since Matthew lived pretty close to Alfred and his parents, he came over often and attended the same school. The two got along very well and were often mistaken for twins. Whenever that happened, they'd just look at each other briefly before laughing at the person before revealing that they were cousins. The two shared many of the same friends as well, though they had some friends that the other didn't really have much interest in—they both got along with Kiku, Ivan (strangely), Feliciano, and some others. Then Matthew had a Cuban friend that seemed to harbor a strange grudge against Alfred who swore he had never met him before.

"Met a cute guy today," Alfred smiled cheekily. He had a history of telling Matthew whenever he met a cute or hot girl or guy. The first time it had happened, it was about a Mexican girl he couldn't even remember the name of. When Alfred had announced the first guy, Matthew looked so shocked that Alfred almost had to dump a glass of cold water on the boy's head before he shook himself out of his stupor. Matthew had told Alfred that he never thought a guy like him would be bisexual, but Alfred just smiled one of his blinding smiles and remarked that he was different.

"Let me guess, is he a soccer player?" Matthew guessed. Every time Alfred would announce his attraction towards another, Matthew had created a game where he'd guess their hobby until he gave up. Alfred shook his head at the guess, knowing that a pilot was the least likely thing for Matthew to guess. "Tennis?"

"Nope."

"Mechanic?"

"No."

"Dancer?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh…jockey?"

"Ha, ha, nope, but that was a creative one," Alfred laughed, though a jockey didn't sound so bad. His grandparents lived on a farm, maybe he could drag Arthur off to it sometime if they got along to see what the blond would look like on a horse. Alfred waited for any other ideas that Matthew would spout, but got silence as the Canadian looked thoughtful, itching at his cheek as he brainstormed.

"I give."

"He's a pilot," Matthew whistled, impressed. "I know right?" Alfred laughed, eyeing the speeding ticket a brief moment before pouring milk into the bowl of cereal he had fetched himself, taking a spoonful into his mouth before speaking, sugary cereal and milk affecting his speech. "'E's kinduh moody hough…"

Just like Arthur, Matthew looked a little disgusted at his actions, but didn't say anything about it, waving it off. Matthew simply told Alfred to finish his cereal before speaking again, not wanting to see partially chewed food mixed with milk sloshing around in the American's mouth as he spoke, though it was better than when the guy ate McDonald's and spoke at the same time. They sat in a few minutes of solitude, Alfred finally finishing his cereal, drinking the milk down as well before setting the bowl down with a satisfied sigh.

"You know Arthur Kirkland?" Alfred asked as he washed whatever was left in the bowl in the sink before stacking it on top of a small tower of stacked bowls, all of different sizes and colors. Matthew thought over the name for a small moment before shaking his head 'no'. "Blond hair that's really messy? Green eyes? British accent?" Alfred began throwing questions at Matthew who rolled all of the details around in his head for a moment before shaking his head 'no' once more. "Guess I'll have to point him out during lunch."

"Sure, hey Alfred, when do you plan on paying that ticket?" Matthew asked, changing the subject on his cousin. Rolling his eyes, Alfred promised that he'd pay it by the end of the week, Matthew knowing full well that it was all a big fat lie. They finished their snack eating and immediately went to whatever homework they had. It was a strict routine Matthew had forced upon Alfred, for he didn't want his cousin to forget his work.

XXX

Francis watched the Boeing fly around in the air, a few corkscrews being pulled off here and there, the engine now quiet due to distance. He was sure Arthur felt free whenever he was up in the air. Whenever he landed, he looked much happier and on one rare occasion where Arthur had actually let Francis ride with him, he had sounded so excited on the radio. When he hadn't warned Francis that he would corkscrew, the Frenchman shrieked in an unmanly way and hearing the Brit laugh was almost worth it. Almost.

Every time he would go up and fly, Francis would watch. Francis also flew, but he flew a monoplane and was also Arthur's mechanic, so he rarely took his plane out to fly anyways. The last time he had flown his own Pientenpol Air Camper, which was a little out dated, was about three months ago. He constantly cleaned and tweaked with his aircraft often, but had never felt like flying it for a while now. Maybe he'd take another shot tomorrow.

As the plane landed, Francis waited for Arthur to kill the engine before approaching him. The Brit jumped out with renewed energy, almost smiling at Francis. The two talked for a while before Arthur had to drive his plane into what Francis like to keep simple, the garage before the two drove off to grab some dinner together. It was easier to talk with Arthur whenever he had just had a good flight and it was also easier to get him to agree with some things such as this. Their conversation started with Francis convincing Arthur to go to the Halloween party his high school was throwing just to make more friends and ended with the two snickering about jokes they were making about Antonio, a Spaniard the two could never get along with.

It wouldn't be long until Arthur reverted back to his 'stick in the mud' attitude, so Francis savored the time when he could tease the Brit and earn a humored smile instead of a pissed off reply. He grabbed his phone when it vibrated at the announcement of a new text and opened it.

Francis, you're turn to make dinner. Or are you out eating again?

His dorm buddy Ludwig was waiting for him. Excusing himself, Francis stood and walked out of the restaurant. He and Ludwig had alternating turns with making meals. Breakfast would be made by one and dinner would be by the other, their task changing with each day. Francis had made breakfast yesterday, so it was now Francis's turn to make dinner even if he already ate something.

XXX

"So Mattie, how do you think I can get him to like me?"

"You're such a dork Alfred, just let it go naturally," Matthew rolled his eyes, having just finished making them dinner. Alfred was such a lazy oaf that he almost never made himself dinner, stuffing himself to the brim with bacon the next morning whenever Matthew wasn't there to make him his third meal of the day.

"But that so boring Mattie," Alfred sounded like he was complaining, and it kind of irritated Matthew. The guy was so dense.

"You can't force someone to like you, you hoser," Matthew snorted, poking at his food for a moment before actually picking it up and eating it. It was Alfred's turn to roll his eyes, but he didn't press on. Matthew was thankful for that. The two continued with their meal in an almost deathly silence if it weren't for the clinking of silverware against plates and Alfred's belching, the guy didn't even have the decency of holding it back. It was gross really.

Alfred finished his dinner first, being a fast eater despite how much he ate and placed all of his dishes in the sink, leaving Matthew to eat alone. Heading into his room to play video games Kiku played with him on the weekends whenever he visited. Having a renewed interest in aviation, Alfred popped in one of his war games, engaging his character into a very finger cramping dogfight.

He'd get to fly in Arthur's plane one day and that was final.

XXXX

Mon ami – My friend

So how do you like it so far? Hope you enjoyed this. I enjoyed typing this and it took four hours to do so with little distraction. I'm not going to proof read this, so if there's any mistakes, please just overlook them. So yeah, please review, it's much motivation. :)

Peace out my friends.