Jim liked to think of himself as a cool teacher. He tried to make his English class in fun. He didn't assign homework on weekends or Mondays. He was even pretty close with his debate team. All in all, he thought he was doing things right.

Except, trying to set up two of his students was a little weird.

Okay, it was a lot of weird. But he just couldn't let the story end with him peeling duct tape off of a cranky British boy and driving him home in the rain. How would he be able to call himself a man of literature? He had the chance to create the best damned story in history, and he was going to do it. Whether it killed him or not.

But considering the fact he was dealing with teenagers, it would most likely kill him.

…

The first debate meeting after the competition went from bad to worse very quickly. And, as usual, it started with an argument. Or rather, two arguments.

"Arthur, where the hell were you?" Alfred screamed, the second Arthur walked into the room. The other conversations didn't even pause, shouting was something one learned to tune out.

"Duct taped to the ceiling! Don't blame me!"

Alfred forgot to look angry for a beat, his mouth hanging open slightly as if Arthur had hit him. Then he shook out his head, as if shaking out bad thoughts, and scowled.

"Don't fuck around with me, you ass! I knew you wanted to throw the debate! I just didn't realize you hated me enough to actually do it."

Arthur copied Alfred's scowl, and put his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't throw the debate! I was actually duct taped to the ceiling. Right, coach?"

At this point, Arthur turned to Jim. Jim jumped. He was probably supposed to have stopped the fighting ages ago. He was, after all, the boys self-appointed cupid (and teacher.) It seemed that fighting was so deeply ingrained into Arthur and Alfred's brains, it had rubbed off on everyone around them. The only people in the room who seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention were Eliza and Gilbert.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, he really was. I was gonna tell you today, but I guess Arthur beat me to it."

Alfred blinked. He shut his mouth. He blinked again. "Seriously?"

To the coach's confirming nod, Alfred plopped into a vacant desk and ran his hand through his hair in the fashion he does when he's nervous or thinking.

"Why?"

Jim glared at Elizabeta and Gilbert, who were looking quite dutiful behind their calculus text books. Jim coughed purposefully, and they both looked up. "Eliza, Gil, do you want to explain yourselves?"

Alfred had the decency to look betrayed, but all he got from Gilbert was a smirk. "Well," Gilbert began, his head tilting in a playful quirk. "Lizzy and I were tryin' to-"

Elizabeta's hand slapped over his mouth before he could go further. Her face was set sternly, and she leaned in and whispered something into his ear. Gilbert's face changed, and he nodded slightly. Then he bit her hand.

"As I was saying," he spat, throwing his accomplice a dirty look. "We were trying to team up, and pull the best prank of the year. We were testing how much duct tape we'd need for the whole football team. Happy? Now we can't pull the prank."

Elizabeta slumped into her chair, looking put-out. A little too put-out. It wasn't in her nature to give up and accept defeat, especially from Gilbert. But Jim didn't know that. Disheartened, he sighed. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Can I talk to you two in the hall?"

…

The hallway was empty in the odd sort of way of an abandoned house. Their shoes squeaked loudly on the cheap flooring, and the walls pressed in towards them, trying to soak up their hushed conversation.

"Look, guys, I don't want to be the bad guy here," Jim began. "But it's not really okay to use a team mate for anything he doesn't agree to, especially being duct taped to the ceiling and left there for the entire weekend. He's lucky I came by the school!"

Elizabeta frowned. "Zhat vas not zhe plan," she admitted slowly. "Originally, ve had someone scheduled for...pick-up."

"What?" Jim asked. "Who?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? Alfred. But he didn't play his damn part!"

Jim's eyebrows shot upward. So he was right! In the true spirit of literature, Alfred had been the intended knight in shining armor. There had been hope. Unfortunately, Arthur got stuck with a boring English teacher in his early thirties wearing a soaked trench coat, but he intended to fix that.

"Okay. I'm listening. Explain."

…

Plan 423Gilliz: The Sticky Situation. (By Gilbert and Lizbutt.)

STEP ONE: Lock Alfred in the bathroom.

"Easier than it looks, Lizzy. Arthur's even pulled it off before, trust me, I can handle it."

STEP TWO: Replace Arthur's manilla folder with one that has the wrong room number. (Room to be determined upon arrival.)

"Shouldn't zhat be step one? Ve have to pick the room first."

"Shut up, Lizzy. Let a man work."

STEP THREE: Turn off the lights. Jump Arthur.

"Zhat's not very specific. And vhy must ve trun off zhe lights?"

"Oh my god, Lizzy! You're such a prude, just calm down, I'm the professional."

"Professional my ass."

"I'll have you know that you're breaking section 4 of our truce! I can turn this prank onto you, you Hungarian brat!"

STEP FOUR: Bring Arthur to school in Gilbert's car. (Previously filled with duct tape.) Proceed to drag Arthur into debate classroom.

STEP FIVE: Duct tape victim to ceiling.

"How vill ve managed that? It's the ceiling!"

"Oh, right. Hang on."

STEP SIX: Make sure you get a ladder in the classroom before you leave in the truck and before step one and stuff.

"Very organized."

"Quit sassing me, woman."

STEP SEVEN: Call Ludwig, who is still at the competitions. Explain how to unlock the bathroom door.

STEP EIGHT: When Alfred runs down the halls in search of Arthur, he will find the manilla folder. Inside we've slipped a note that says: "IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR ARTHUR AGAIN, GO TO THE DEBATE ROOM. ALSO HE'S IN THE DEBATE ROOM AT SCHOOL."

"I fink he gets zhe point."

STEP NINE: Wait for the magic to happen.

…

"But the damn idiot never found the manilla folder! Instead he stormed into the assigned room, and when Arthur wasn't there, he went straight to you and got a new partner! He didn't even look for the freak! Some boyfriend he's gonna be!"

Jim folded his arms. "You guys, there was so much wrong with that plan. I'm surprised you even...how did you even managed to...you know what, never mind."

Jim shook his head. "Alright, this time, we're gonna do things right. The normal way. We're gonna send them on a date."

Eliza and Gilbert gaped.

"You're helping us?" They shouted.

IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR YOU: Ok, it's not that important. But the point is: how would you like to see some PruHun? Let me know!

Hey guys! Excuse the generally bad story-telling. This isn't a very serious fic, and so I haven't written it very seriously. I hope it will still entertain you, however, because that is its only purpose!

Please also excuse any grammatical or spelling mistakes, I didn't re-read it!

Thanks for everyone who reviewed last time, it means so much! (And you suggestions had me cracking up.)

-Mallory