heres chapter two enjoy


Day two. It began with Alfred waking up at six, getting out of bed, almost forgetting about Arthur, and climbing up to top bunk to try and wake him up. One.. Two..

"WAKE UP, ARTHUR!" He shouted, causing the Briton to jolt upright, slam his forehead into Alfred's, and let out a weak wail.

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" Arthur exclaimed back, slamming a quick fist into Alfred's face. He recoiled backward, fell off the bunk, and started complaining as soon as he hit the ground. "Shut up! God fucking damn it," he yelled, shocked and indignant at such a rude awakening. "I swear on the Queen that I'll skin you alive if you ever try that again, Alfred Foster Jones!"

"Whoa there," Alfred laughed from the floor, despite the pain in his back and face. Arthur was cuter when he was sleeping, he decided. He wasn't as yell-y then. No homo. "No need for that kinda violence."

"What fucking time is it?" Arthur coughed, wiping his eyes and letting out a pained groan.

"It's like six-"

"SIX? You woke me up at SIX. In the morning. SIX IN THE MORNING." Arthur ranted loudly, crawling forward and ambling down the ladder to the floor. "Alfred, I'm going to kill you."

"You said I was the serial killer," joked Alfred, who feared that Arthur might not be joking, and shuffled backwards with haste. "How the tables have turned."

"For god's sake, you asshole," Arthur wheezed, trying to kick the man in the side, but missing and falling over. "I'm too bloody tired for this." He muttered from the floor.

"I give you shelter, love, and company, and this is what I get in return." Alfred mused, rolling over a bit and looking to Arthur's closed eyes. "But I mean, like, platonic love, like friendship, no homo."

"You're gay, get over it," Arthur muttered, yawning and slowly getting up. "What kind of tea do you have?.. I need a cup or else I'm not going to survive the day. How do you have yours?"

"Tea? What do you think I am, British?" Alfred sneered, already an asshole at six in the morning. "I like my tea with the water of the Boston harbor."

"Oh, fuck you, you know what I meant. You're messed up for not drinking it." Arthur chided. He resembled a zombie as he trudged out of the room, and got lost trying to find the kitchen. It was much too early for him, even more so because his body clock was out of whack now that he was in a different part of the world. Alfred decided to let Arthur do whatever until he wasn't as much of a grump as he was in his morning mode.

Hearing something that sounded like an explosion, Alfred sat up, and wandered out to find out what had happened. At the stove stood Arthur, ash staining his face, hair sticking up, and a bewildered expression on his features.

"What the fuck-"

"Your oven doesn't work properly. Neither does your toaster."

"Why did I hear something explode?.." Alfred mumbled cautiously, coming closer. Now that he neared, he saw a blackened tray within the opened oven. "Oh no, you didn't try to-.. Oh, my god. I've made my mistakes, but this.."

"I tried making toast, but that didn't work, so I decided to make some scones. Your oven doesn't work." At least having something that was supposed to be scones exploding in his face seemed to wake Arthur up.

"Leave me to make breakfast," Alfred said quickly, sweating bullets. "You're a guest after all."

"Hm, well." Arthur puffed. "I'm going to go and wash my face or something." He stuck his nose up, and ambled out of the room.

Alfred wasn't sure if he should have offered to host this charming man in the first place. Hanging his head, he cleaned up the explosion mess from the kitchen, and put in fresh slices of bread to the toaster. Arthur was banned from this kitchen for the rest of his life.

After eating a breakfast that Arthur wouldn't stop complaining about, the two of them lazed about until late afternoon, as Alfred had called a sickie for the day.

"Right, we should get ready for the fete!" Alfred said suddenly, hitting his open palm with his fist. He and Arthur had been laying on the couch at the time of his declaration, the latter on the verge of sleeping again as an old episode of Sesame Street played on Alfred's TV.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that," groaned Arthur. "God, I feel like I'm hungover."

Alfred got up, stretched, and ruffled Arthur's hair before wandering off to find some clothes for the both of them. Arthur once again swore bloody murder on Alfred's name.

"I hope you don't mind my style," Alfred called as he rummaged about his drawers. Arthur was too grouchy now to reply.

Alfred returned a few minutes later with an armful of clothes. "Find yourself something you wanna wear," he said with a smile. "You can change in the bathroom. It's gonna be cold, duh, so pick something warm." He beamed. With that said, he returned to his bedroom to change.

Arthur sifted through the pile, wondering how Alfred even wore this stuff. Most of it seemed baggy and too big for even Alfred, and if it wasn't oversized and loose, it seemed tight and uncomfortable. Only one shirt really appealed to him, so he nicked that with a pair of jeans, and headed off to change.

As he left the bathroom, he was met with a smug faced Alfred. "You a fan, then?" He asked, glancing to the shirt Arthur had picked. It was dark red, and had 'Keep calm and I'm an angel of the lord' displayed in white block letters, along with a little emblem of some wings. Alfred, on the other hand, was wearing a flannel shirt with cartoon hamburgers emblazoned here and there, and magenta skinny jeans. He also had a bow tie, magenta to match his jeans. Arthur would never ever admit that he was cute.

"Maybe." Arthur smirked, annoyed by how the jeans he'd picked were too long for his short legs. He would live though. Alfred was kind enough to lend his clothes, so it would be really rude to complain.

"Well, in that case.." Alfred disappeared back into his room. A few moments later, he returned and tossed something khaki Arthur's way. He caught it, and looked it over.

"You're a nerd." Arthur stated, putting on the trenchcoat and admiring himself in it. Perhaps he was actually just blond Castiel. That would be really cool.

"Says you, Cas." He sneered back, making his voice deeper to imitate the beautiful Jensen Ackles.

"We should get going, there's so much to do." Alfred cheered, pumping his fist in the air. "Damnit, if I knew you were going to be wearing the Cas shirt, I would've put on my Dean getup.. But enough dwelling on the best ship of all time. Let's go!"

"The best ship of all time is only contested by Johnlock." whispered Arthur as they headed out of the flat together.

Arthur was glad he'd picked out a pair of lace-up boots, because he had to trudge through a foot of snow on the way to their old school. He was almost dead by the end of the walk, having to lean on Alfred. He really wasn't the most athletic guy. By that, I mean he stayed inside and did his work from his laptop while rewatching Sherlock or Doctor Who or even Harry Potter for the third/fourth/twentieth time. He only went outside to tend to his garden, or when he had to let his cat out/in.

They finally reached the school after what seemed like years of walking, and Alfred pat his weary friend's back. "C'mon, let's get hot cocoa to warm us up." He smiled, grabbed Arthur's arm, and pulled him through the sparse crowd. Arthur skidded as he was tugged along, but couldn't release himself from Alfred's iron grip. Great.

They arrived at a little stand, with a sheltered area for their customers to drink in. The seats were pillows, and the tables were crates. Quaint. Alfred queued for a bit while Arthur sat in the covered area, fiddling and watching the people pass by to see if he knew any of them. He didn't. Alfred returned soon, toting a pair of hot chocolates, and offering one to Arthur.

"Thank you." He said quietly, using the hot paper cup as a way to warm his hands. "What happened to Sakura? Did she stay in America?" Conversation was crucial in keeping an awkward air out of the equation.

"She moved back to Japan, and broke my heart doing so." Alfred joked, wandering off and returning moments later with a straw. He then poked a hole in the lid of his cocoa, and put it in. "We still talk sometimes on Skype, though. Speaking of which, you have one?"

"Yes, believe it or not." He scoffed. "I got it for Francis," he paused and shuddered, "But I think he got sick of seeing my face so we only used it once."

"Tell me your username when we're back at the flat, and I'll send you a contact request." Alfred now sat there, drinking hot cocoa through a straw.

"You're strange," sighed Arthur, taking a vague sip of his own cocoa.

"I think I'm pretty normal." Alfred was completely oblivious to some of the looks he was getting as he slurped.

They finished their cocoa, a fact Arthur was grateful for, and stood up. "Right, where to?" asked Arthur, hiding his hands in the too-long sleeves of the trenchcoat.

"Cotton candy!" he chirped. "A fete's not a fete without cotton candy."

"I don't even like fairy floss," chided Arthur, although he didn't resist when Alfred grabbed his hand and began pulling him through the crowds again.

Alfred speedily bought them both a cotton candy wand, and handed the blue one over to Arthur. The pink one was his. No-one got between him and pink cotton candy. No-one. Well, except Arthur when he grabbed it out of Alfred's hand, and swapped it with the blue.

"Hey!" puffed Alfred, staring at the blue cotton candy wand like it was something out of a horror movie. "Pink one's mine!" He huffed. "Also, didn't you say that you don't like cotton candy? Asshole!"

"I don't like blue." Arthur looked up, took a bite of fairy floss, and smirked.

"They taste the same!" Alfred argued.

"Then why do you want pink so badly?" Arthur smirked, starting to lead Alfred off in another direction.

"You're a dick!"

"How sweet of you, Alfred."

God fucking damn it.

They wandered about the fete, with Alfred trying to steal bites of pink cotton candy any time he could. Arthur was cautious, though, and managed to move it away every time. He'd almost forgotten how fun Alfred was to tease. He almost finished his wand, and handed it over when there was just one bite's worth left.

"Here you go, I don't like pink after all." He smirked, causing Alfred to steam over. At least, that's what his expression said.

"I can't believe this, you steal my pink cotton candy, eat it all, and then decide you don't like it?" He cried, bunching up his shoulders in frustration. He had already finished the blue wand.

"I didn't eat all of it. There's a little left, see." Arthur pointed to the fluffy sugar still clinging to the wand for dear life. "Here you go." Alfred just groaned.

Next on Alfred's mental list was the little teacup ride that had been hired by the school, and set up down on the oval.

"I'll forgive you for the cotton candy if you go on this with me." Alfred pointed to the spinning teacups. "You should like this, it's tea. Like you."

"I'm tea?" Arthur was genuinely amused.

"No, I meant like, uh," Alfred puffed, creasing his brow to try and help his train of thought. "I meant like, you're British, so tea, like you, but uh, British.. And you're the tea-.. Wait, that's not right, uh,"

"I get it, idiot." Arthur chuckled, taking Alfred by the earlobe and dragging him to the queue.

Arthur didn't seem to mind that the ride was mostly occupied by little children or old ladies. He'd never actually been on a ride of any kind before, so this was a leap of faith for Alfred's sake. They clambered into their shared teacup, with Arthur sitting beside Alfred as they waited for it to start.

Motion sickness was something Arthur had forgotten about. Whoops. As the teacups span, Arthur began to feel very ill, and covered his mouth with one hand as he gagged.

"Arthur-" Alfred mumbled, turning to look at his companion. "Oh, shit!" He cried, picking up the bewildered Brit and leaping off the spinning ride. He quickly put the man back down, and he ran off to some bushes to empty the contents of his stomach.

He returned a moment later, wiping his mouth and slumped over in his stead.

"Dude, you get sick on the spinning tea cup ride? It's lame, but it's supposed to be all romantic and cute and whatever."

"I couldn't have you being mad at me over cotton candy," he wheezed. "What happened to no homo? Romantic ride? I can't believe you just bloody picked me up and jumped off it, for god's sake.. That's very homo."

"No homo is implied. All the time. It's always no homo. Never homo." Alfred stated as if it was obvious. "Come on, I think you need some soda after that."

"Why do you damned Americans call it that?" Arthur grumbled as they began to walk again. "It's fizzy, or soft drink. A can of fizzy. Or you just call it what it is. A can of Sprite. A can of Coke."

"Soda!" Alfred protested lamely, a hurt expression on his face. "It's soda!"

"You sound like a kicked puppy." Arthur mumbled.

"Yeah, 'cos it's soda, and you're wrong!"

Even as Arthur kicked at Alfred's shins and went on about how wrong he was, they managed to get to a stand that was selling drinks. Finally. One arm still around Alfred's neck in mock choking, Arthur glimpsed up to the cashier, and his heart stopped. He dropped his arm instantly.

"It's you." He was immediately uncomfortable. Alfred seemed just as such. "You asshole!"

"Arthur, please," Alfred whined, tugging his friend back. "Don't get all angry, we're at a fete.."

"That's not a very nice way to greet me, mon ami." Francis said quaintly, raising a brow. "Would you like a can of soda?"

"You cheating, lying, dick!" Arthur exclaimed, trying to march forward, but being held back by Alfred. "How dare you speak to me like that, after what you've done!"

"I'm sorry," Alfred said quickly, having to lift the kicking Arthur into his arms to stop him from full-on leaping at the Frenchman. "He got off the wrong plane."

"And ended up here? How quaint. He's still charming as ever." Francis laughed quietly.

"You're not the one offering him lodging for a week." Alfred shrugged. It was kind of amusing that they were both totally ignoring the squirming and shouting man in Alfred's arms right now. "Anyway, two Sprites'll be great."

"I don't think he's over me," Francis mused, grabbing a pair of cans from the little esky below the desk. "Even after all these years."

"I'm totally fucking over you!" Arthur protested, still trying to swing a leg forward to kick Francis in the balls. "Why would I still be attached to a cheating asshole like you?!"

"I've grown up, mon ami. I was just a child, then. I didn't know what I was doing. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. C'est la vie."

Arthur just grunted and kind of stopped in his struggling. "Put me down, you belligerent idiot," he spat, staring daggers at Alfred.

"Why's he calling me a bell? I don't ring or anything." he asked to Francis, frowning and putting Arthur down.

"Nevermind it, Alfred," Francis shrugged.

"Hmph, I shouldn't have yelled." It wasn't an apology, but Francis took it with grace, as Arthur was the kind of person who wouldn't apologize even if he had killed someone with his car.

"You're still a little immature, aren't you?" Francis laughed, handing over the cans and putting Alfred's coins into the register in return. "Abientôt."

"He's really not that bad, y'know." Alfred said as they walked away from the stand. "He's volunteering at the stall because he loves the school, and he loves working with kids." He shrugged. He had ended up carrying both of the drinks, as Arthur was too angry, had his hands in the trenchcoat's pockets, and didn't even like Sprite.

"Maybe he's not as much of an asshole anymore." Arthur mumbled, as much as he hated to admit it. Francis sounded like he'd actually turned into a pretty nice guy. High school did bring out the worst in people, he guessed.

"Hey, uh.." Arthur mumbled, pausing his steps.

"What is it?" Alfred asked with curious eyes. "Something up?"

"Can we, ah, I didn't end up getting a drink I liked, so can we find somewhere to get one?.. I'm a little thirsty, so.."

"Of course! You know, you're a sucker for not liking Sprite." Alfred chuckled, throwing an arm casually around Arthur's shoulders, and walking him to the closest place that sold soft drink. Arthur purchased a can of creaming soda, to which Alfred laughed because it was creaming soda, and he'd won.

"Isn't it getting a little late? What even is the time?" asked Arthur with a yawn. He sipped at his cheery pink can as the two wandered about the fete.

"Oh yeah! It is!" Alfred said with shock. "C'mon, we gotta get a good spot!"

"A good spot for what-" Arthur tried to ask, but Alfred had taken his hand before he could finish, and he was dragged off before he could protest.

Alfred led him up the hill to the side of the school's oval, where a few people were already gathering, with blankets or fold-up chairs. Arthur's curiosity only blossomed. "C'mon, sit down, the grass is comfy." Alfred said with a smile, plopping himself down and patting the ground beside him.

"Why're we here, exactly?" he mumbled, thankful to not have lost too much of his creaming soda during that traveling.

"What's the time?" Alfred interrupted, although he answered his own question by pulling out his phone. "Five minutes!"

"Five minutes isn't a time, you dolt." Arthur mumbled, finding that it was quite chilly right now, on a damned snowy hill.

"Yeah it is, it's like a period of time." He retorted smartly, pouting. "Like twenty minutes. Or an hour. Or three light years."

"Light years are distance."

"Why're they called years, then?"

"Something to do with how fast light travels. I don't know. Didn't you learn it at school?"

"I don't know," Alfred whined, opening his second can of sprite with a little fizzing noise. "Stop being so smart and stuff, or my head's going to explode."

"I'm not that smart." Arthur mumbled, although his cheeks were a little pink.

"Yeah you are. Now, it should happen anytime, now."

"What? You still haven't told me what's going on, Alfred." Arthur said indignantly, poking the American's chest with one finger. "What on earth is going to happe-" He jumped at a large crack in the sky, screamed like a little girl, and hid his face in Alfred's chest, all in one dorky movement.

"Fireworks!" Cheered Alfred, hugging Arthur now that he had the opportunity. Realising the position he was in, Arthur scrabbled out of Alfred's arms and pushed the man away with a quick shove.

"Let go of me!" He uttered quickly, shuffling away and looking up at the fireworks display.

"You're the one who dove onto me," Alfred shrugged, shuffling back towards Arthur. "Gayyyy-"

"Why're you talking about yourself?" sneered Arthur, not even turning to face his companion.

"I'm straight!" squeaked Alfred. Arthur just punched his face gently.

"Shut up and watch the fireworks."

Together, they watched the colours dance about the sky, leaving their trails of red or blue against an otherwise black evening. Arthur was kind of awed by them, but Alfred was on a whole other level of admiration. He gave each one a name before it burst and cracked, and kept trying to predict what kind of firework would be sent up next. The last one was the best. It went up slowly, with small cracks going off to either side of its trail. And once it had reached its apex, it burst. The colours were magnificent, bright yellows and reds dancing about from the thundering cracker. In his awe, Alfred hadn't noticed that his arm had gone back around Arthur's shoulders, and noticed even less that Arthur was leaning against him.

When he did realise, though, he pinched his lips together and didn't dare say anything stupid.

"I love fireworks; they're beautiful." Arthur commented quietly, swiftly breaking the silence that had crept around them.

"Sure are," Alfred dipped his head. Arthur let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, shifting a bit and resting his head on Alfred's chest, which was more comfortable than his pokey shoulder. "Y'know, maybe fete's brought us together again after all."

"Was that a.." Arthur muttered, not bothering to finish his question with the word 'pun'.

"Sorry, sorry, it's a habit." Alfred chuckled quietly. There was no answer for the next few minutes, and it took as long for Alfred to realise that Arthur had fallen asleep against him. God damn it. That was fucking adorable. No homo.

It was midnight now, and the fete would be closing any minute. Seeing no other alternative – he didn't want to wake the sleeping Briton in fear of his morning mode – he scooped Arthur up into his arms and gently carried him all the way home.

Arthur had woken up at some point, but didn't protest and kick his way out of Alfred's arms like expected.

"Oh, you're awake?" Alfred asked quietly, feeling a little tug on his shirt. Arthur's fingers had touched at it vaguely.

"Yeah." Arthur opened his eyes. "You shouldn't have carried me, idiot."

"I'd be dead if I'd woken you up, remember," Alfred put Arthur down on the couch, before wandering back over to the door to shut it. "I value my life."

"Good." Arthur mumbled, wiping his eyes and sitting up. "Ugh, I feel sick from all the sugar."

"Maybe you shouldn't have stolen my cotton candy." Alfred retorted, waddling about and opening a chest on the side of the room. "Also, lay back down. I'm getting blankets and stuff."

"You're better with blue, you know." He stated, doing as instructed.

Alfred returned to the couch, arms full of puffy blankets and pillows. He tossed them at Arthur, who tried to catch them and failed. With that done, Alfred bomb-dived onto the couch, buried himself in blanket, and felt about for the TV remote.

"You're a little kid under those big muscles, aren't you?" mumbled Arthur, raising a brow. He was still trying to make himself comfortable under the blankets, although it was hard when Alfred's legs were irritatingly close to his body.

"You think my muscles are big?" Alfred said with a little smile. "What, you like?"

"I'm not into muscles." Arthur shrugged.

"Geek type? I can do geek type too." Alfred found the remote and turned the TV on. He switched it to the news, and turned the sound down real low.

"Why would you need to appeal to my tastes?" Arthur asked, suspicious.

"What? That's totally not what I meant. No homo!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned to watch the news. Alfred fell asleep before too long, brain switched off by the boring news. The Briton sighed quietly, and tried to make himself comfortable. He was quite weary still, and was glad that the day had ended so nicely.

"Goodnight, Alfred."


in the next chapter we get to see francis again : ) ahah