(a/n): Yhello! A USUK fic I made for a request on tumblr~

Enjoy!

Arthur Kirkland, high school senior, president of Heta-High Student Council, working on one of his final projects of the final semester, was in one hell of a predicament.

Normally, Arthur thought, that this situation was one reserved for college students, and yet he was in it nonetheless.

It was approximately 6 pm now, and he could see the sun nearly completely below the horizon outside the ceiling-high windows of the library building. In front of him, on the table, lay the scattered scraps of wire and metal that was supposed to be the finished project for his robotics class, all pristine and ready to be submitted tomorrow.

But it was all a half-constructed, confused pile of mess—much like Arthur's brain.

"Ah, I'll help you finish it next week on Thrusday, Arthur-san, if that will be okay," Kiku, his Japanese tech-savvy friend had said. One of his only friends, really. "I will help you with your computation sheet and we can do the rest then, okay?" And he was reliable, too. Up until he called four hours earlier notifying Arthur that the Science Club had an urgent meeting that afternoon, and he then had to quickly meet-up with his family immediately after.

So Arthur had internally screamed, panicked, and made his way to the library with his hunk of metal in an attempt to finish the thing.

Now, Arthur liked to consider himself something close to a prodigy, with his straight As and perfect attendance and project submission record. Anything involving math and science, which weren't really his strong points, he could easily have tutored to him by Kiku who granted him a better, if not more advanced understanding than his teachers.

But Kiku wasn't here, and everything was miserable, and Arthur would definitely get an F tomorrow morning.

And the freaking robot was only half of the grade. The worksheet with all the computations was very, horribly important. And no, no amount of books or google articles had helped Arthur get the grasp of how the damned wires and metal bits worked with all the numbers and symbols and letters. Just, no.

So there Arthur was, a breath away from breaking into a sob, clutching a screwdriver in one hand and staring down with a look of absolute frustration, when a nudge on his shoulder made him jump almost a foot into the air.

"W-what?"

"Hey! It's you!" Arthur turned, still shaking, to see the face of a boy smiling impossible wide.

Blond hair, sky-blue eyes, rectangular glasses and an aura of stupendous positivity. In one second Arthur was knocked back three weeks into the past, when he was passing down an empty school hallway during the football game-night.

There he was, avoiding the game and the crowds already in the field, making his way home, when he spotted a suspiciously lonely football (ahem, American football) helmet painted red and green left strewn on the floor haphazardly.

He found a name written on the inside with marker on masking tape. Well, it was twenty minutes until the game started, and Arthur considered his options. He could leave it be for it probably didn't matter anyway, or he could rush to the football players' locker room and hand the helmet over to—he squinted—an Alfred F. Jones.

He went for the latter, seeing no harm in doing someone a favor.

He rushed down the dimly lit empty halls and made his way down below, knocking on the locker room and opening it when no one answered.

Thankfully, he wasn't greeted with the sight of twenty-something half-naked men chanting their game-chant like a sport-crazed cult. Instead there were several uniformed players, all in their red/green football gear, standing about as one of them frantically threw open a locker and started going through everything inside.

When he finally looked up and spotted Arthur holding out the helmet, his eyes went unbelievably wide.

Yes, that was Alfred F. Jones.

"My lucky helmet! Oh sweet lord, I could never play without it. Thank you!" He cried and rushed over to Arthur, thanking him profusely and shaking his arm so bad he was sure it had been dislocated.

He had an aura of the typical dumb jock—incapable of proper English and anything remotely academic. He spoke like it too, all careless and rushed; must have been the reason for leaving his helmet carelessly strewn on the floor in the first place.

After the encounter, Arthur sniffed and gave his polite "Your welcome, but be more careful next time." Then quickly left. He was not someone Arthur wanted to be closely acquainted with, and so he went without another word.

But here was this jock again, staring him down with a friendly smile.

"You're Arthur Kirkland right? Hey, I don't mean to be rude but uh, you're a senior too, aren't you? Didn't Mr. Bobbinsky have that robotics project due tomorrow?"

"I, uh…" Arthur mumbled. Yes, it was in fact, due tomorrow, and he was dying inside. "Y-yes."

"Then what's it doing still looking like a pile of scrap?" Alfred snickered good-naturedly.

Arthur went red up to his ear-tips. "Well, I'll have you know that this thing isn't as easy as it should be, you know! Whoever decided on adding such a useless subject like robotics to the curriculum anyway? And what makes you think you've the right to insult me like that? What do you know about any of this, huh?"

Alfred laughed, loud and carefree, fitting his bouncy personality. "Well, I happen to know a bit," he said and casually took a seat right next to Arthur, as though they've been friends for ten years strong. "I actually passed mine a week early." He said matter-of-factly.

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. "No way."

"Yes way," Alfred smiled.

Damnit. He wasn't lying.

Arthur deflated, burying his face into his forearms on the table. "I'm going to fail." He stated. Alfred laughed from somewhere above him.

"Hey, listen, you saved my guts back at the game. I literally cannot play without my helmet. It's my lucky helmet, you know? I'll lose without it! And well, we won, so you basically did the whole school a favor. So, Arthur Kirkland, tell you what,"

Arthur tilted his head to look up at Alfred from the crook of his elbow. "What?" He asked, tired and desperate. Alfred was grinning at him. It was somehow comforting.

"I'll help you finish this project, and get you an A at that."

Of course Arthur took it. He was absolutely helpless, and here was an angel sent down to save him from the depths of hell.

Alfred didn't seem like an angel at first. Arthur doubted him. He picked up Arthur's work sheet and stared at it with blatant confusion, and muttered, "What the fuck is this?"

All of Arthur's computations had absolutely nothing to help with the project. So, Alfred began the lesson from scratch.

He showed him the components, disassembled a few of the wires, and told Arthur which goes where and how the numbers show how to work them. The more he explained, the more Arthur understood. He went through pointers fast, but not brisk and unintelligible like Mr. Bobbinsky. He spoke simpler and his words were easier to comprehend.

Soon, Arthur was wielding the screwdriver with more confidence, putting pieces in their places and glancing at his worksheet with renewed understanding.

And Alfred was kind, too. He wasn't impatient and he never god ticked off. Whenever Arthur half-screamed in mild frustration, Alfred chuckled and told him what he did wrong and what he should do. Really, Arthur was quite touched.

Alfred was extremely nice. He was tender, made jokes that actually managed to make Arthur chuckle, and he didn't really look all that bad either.

Three hours later, with only college-kids high on caffeine littering the other tables, Arthur put his screwdriver down with shaking red hands. It was done. The pieces were put together and the thing was working perfectly. Flawlessly. Marvelously.

"Alfred, I… well, thank you. To be honest, I um, would never have gotten this done without you." Arthur said. He looked up to find Alfred giving him that sweet smile again. Christ, how was a guy like that still all sunny and positive after 3 hours of intense labor?

"Ha ha! It's alright, Artie."

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. Oh, fuck.

"I, um, well," He coughed. "Well, I did give your helmet back but you spent three hours working on a project that isn't even yours. I—um, apologies, Alfred, for making you waste your time on me."

"Woah, hey now, it's alright. Worth it to spend 3 hours with a cutie like you." Alfred winked.

What now.

"Hey," the jock said again. "If you ever need to be tutored with like, math or science or something, I can help you out!" He took a piece of scrap paper and jotted something down. Arthur realized with a start that it was his number.

"Oh, um, thank you." Arthur was blushing. Wildly.

Alfred laughed. "Hey, no problem!" And then he winked. "I'll see you 'till then. Gotta go now, though!"

He stood up and made to leave when Arthur called after him.

"Hey, Alfred!"

"Yes?"

"Uh, how about tomorrow, at that Starbucks around the corner?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. "What? For tutoring?"

"Um, not exactly."

Alfred's smile widened. "Great! See you at 5, then, Arthur!~"

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