Warning: Slightly more mature situations in this chapter, but nothing too bad... I hope...


How It All Began

The portable was obnoxiously loud when Alfred Jones entered at approximately seven thirty-five that September morning. He stuffed a finger in his ear and gritted his teeth when a girl squealed, and dropped into his seat at the back of the room with a heavy sigh. A boy in the seat beside him slapped him on the back in greeting.

"Yo, Jones! Missed ya this summer! You ready for another year of kicking ass at the uprights?"

Alfred gave an evil grin. "You know it!"

The bell decided to ring at that moment, and the class immediately quieted down, though murmurs erupted when students realized that the teacher was not in the room. Then, the door to the portable, set up because the school was over maximum capacity, creaked open and a small young-looking blond man entered, setting a thick orange book on the podium at the front of the room. When he looked around to inspect the class, Alfred flushed at how vibrant his green eyes were, though he was immediately distracted by the size of the man's eyebrows. He and several other boys in the room held back laughter.

"'I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation,'" the man said, a heavy British accent almost clouding his words, "Can anyone tell me what novel that quote is from?"

The class was silent, and it was obvious that this man was their teacher, and he was not impressed.

"Victor Frankenstein, in the words of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. One of the more popular stories, I'm surprised you don't know that," he continued. With a sigh, he heaved the orange book back off of the podium and held it for a moment. "My name is Arthur Kirkland and I will be your British Literature teacher for the rest of your final year of high school. And this," he paused to drop the book onto the ground with a resounding thud that shook the portable on its brick slats; he smiled, almost sweetly, though an air of evil hung about him, "is your textbook. Grab one, and let's begin."


The first three months of the semester passed without incident, though Alfred and the rest of the class learned early on not to, A, insult Mr. Kirkland; B, write less-than-three-page-long essays; and C, insult Mr. Kirkland's eyebrows. The British man might have been small, but he had a fiery temper that, on more than one occasion, resulted in the assistant principal having to pull him out of class for nearly half an hour to get him to calm down. It was on one of these days in early December, after school hours, that Alfred entered Portable Seventeen with a plan that he was sure would get him expelled, or worse, put him at the mercy of Arthur Kirkland.

Over the months, Alfred had found himself watching Mr. Kirkland with a care he had never beheld before. The man was intriguing, to put it in simple terms. His actions were not fluid, by any means, and his personality was that of a Grinch, but for some reason, Alfred couldn't help but feel an attraction to him. It could have been, if he wanted to be truly honest with himself, that he was desperate for attention, and it was hard to come by a willing male partner when he was holding up the image of 'absolutely straight and popular football jock who could get any girl in school.' He groaned to himself, knowing that his image was complete shit. Brushing the thought aside for now, he turned back to the task at hand. He was on the wooden steps, staring at the thick black '17' on the door; the stairs were rotten and creaky, and surely Mr. Kirkland would have known that someone was outside the door and was just waiting for them to enter. Alfred steeled himself and put a hand on the freezing handle, pulling the door open slowly.

As he entered the portable, he saw Mr. Kirkland sitting at his desk at the other end of the room, hunched over a novel and a yellow notepad. A pen flew across the paper, green eyes flicking between his notes and the book. It seemed to Alfred that he hadn't noticed he was no longer alone-

"What do you need, Mr. Jones?" the elder man said, wear evident in his accented voice. Alfred jumped slightly, his stare breaking as he blinked stupidly.

"Wha?"

Mr. Kirkland sighed and dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair and looking sidelong at his student. "I said, 'What do you need, Mr. Jones?' It's hardly a rhetorical question."

"O-oh..." Okay, so he was stupid. English wasn't his best subject anyway. "Well, I..."

"Come on then, spit it out," the Briton encouraged, "I should rather be left alone right now, so the sooner you ask your question the sooner you may leave." He stood up from his desk and closed his novel (Alfred vaguely noted it was Frankenstein), glancing over the notes he had taken before he looked back over to Alfred. The blond teenager wandered across the floor and dropped his book bag onto a nearby desk, almost forgetting the plan he had formulated in his mind; it wasn't his usual saving-the-world plan that made his friends laugh at him, but it was still pretty damn certain that it would change something in the space-time continuum. He steeled himself, a second time just to be sure, and turned around, facing his teacher with determination in his blue eyes.

"I like you." The words were rapid, and he was certain that he would be asked to repeat them, which would ruin his plan of the other man swooning into his arms because he was so awesome-

"Beg pardon?"

"I like you," Alfred said again, keeping his gaze level with his teacher's; he could swear that he saw a blush appear on the pallid skin, and his suspicions were confirmed when Mr. Kirkland turned beet red. Score one!

"W-what do you mean, boy? T-that's hardly talk for school-"

"I don't care. I've... liked you for a while. So... what do you say?" It was then that he realized, in his state of internal celebration, that he had gotten closer to his teacher and now had the man backed up against the chalkboard. Mr. Kirkland was flushing heavily and staring to the side at a pile of papers stacked on his desk.

"I-I think you're off your rocker, Mr. Jo-"

"Call me Alfred." He took a step closer, and the other took a step back, the chalk tray digging into his back and causing his hips to jut out uncomfortably.

"Alfred, please, y-you're rather close and t-this is hardly acceptable-mmph!"

Before the man could utter another broken word, Alfred had leaned in and captured his lips in a bruising kiss, the elder's gasp giving him free range with the steaming cavern of the man's mouth. He held fast to the kiss as one hand gripped the chalk tray behind Mr. Kirkland and the other kept the man's face in his direction. The kiss lasted until Alfred felt adventurous enough to let a knee slide between the Briton's legs; the teacher wouldn't have any of that and he pushed Alfred away forcefully, raising his hands to cover his mouth as if he had uttered a curse. The teenager licked his lips, observing the flustered man for a few moments.

"I..." Mr. Kirkland was at a loss for words, it seemed. Score two! Alfred inwardly cheered, though it was immediately subdued by the arousal that had grown in his jeans. His teacher began to speak again after a minute. "I think you should leave, Alfred."

The younger blond's face fell and his jaw set awkwardly. He was about to protest when Mr. Kirkland pressed a hand to his chest and steered him back over to where his backpack was laying on its desk.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow," the man said as the confused teenager wandered over to the door. Alfred almost got a word in, but the door was closed and locked behind him.


The next morning, Mr. Kirkland requested to see him after school again.

Alfred knew that he shouldn't be excited, but he couldn't help the light-hearted feeling that kept him floating for the rest of the day. His friends were concerned, but he would let nothing lead them to know that he was pining after the ever-feared Mr. Arthur Kirkland. The elation held out until he made his way back up to Portable Seventeen. When he reached for the door, however, it was locked. Blinking in confusion, he knocked, and after a moment he heard distant thuds that signaled that someone was walking through the portable. The door opened seconds later, and Mr. Kirkland allowed him in before going back over to his desk. Alfred decided he should break the ice.

"Why did you want to talk to me?"

"I would have thought it would be quite obvious, with what happened yesterday." The blond teen suppressed a shudder at how nonchalantly the other male spoke of the near-molestation of the day before.

"Are... you gonna report me or anything?"

Mr. Kirkland shook his head. "No, I've no reason to." His cheeks were pink when he looked back up at Alfred. "I far from hated it, if that's what you want to hear."

The words were barely uttered before Alfred whooped in celebration and leaned over to embrace the smaller man, who had dropped back into the chair behind his desk. Mr. Kirkland yelped and pushed the teen away.

"Alfred, please!"

Said boy blinked in surprise and smiled brightly. "Hey, you're calling me Alfred!" he said, wonder drenching his words as he knelt in front of the other male. This brought on another slew of red to his teacher's face.

"W-well," he started, his speechlessness from the day before returning, "T-that is, I thought it would be more personal... i-if we started something... T-though I will still call you Mr. Jones in front of the class!" He frowned, though his cheeks darkened once more as Alfred laid his arms on his thighs, face dangerously close to his crotch. He squeaked when the blond teen leaned forward and nestled his nose in the fabric of his teacher's pants. "W-w-what on earth are you doing!" he demanded, about to force the boy away, but losing the strength as Alfred shifted to grip his hips and kiss the growing bulge in the man's pants.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Alfred commented, glancing up. He stifled a gasp, his surprised eyes taking in the sight of a heavily flushed and aroused Mr. Kirkland. The teacher didn't reply, simply leaned back and placed his hands on Alfred's as if to push him away, but didn't apply any pressure to do so.

The elder man bit his lower lip, only adding to Alfred's own arousal, before he spoke. "P-please, Alfred, this behavior... c-can hardly be condoned, in a classroom, no less!" He gasped as Alfred leaned in to press a slight sucking force onto Mr. Kirkland's crotch.

"It's a portable, though..."

"W-we're still on school propert-eeeee!" The small English teacher gripped the arms of his chair when his student moved to pull the zipper of his trousers down with his teeth. "A-at least let us get off campus!" He suddenly found the strength to pull his arms from his chair and push the disappointed teen away, heaving large breaths to calm his nerves, and the distraction between his thighs. He stood quickly and shoved several stacks of paper and a few novels into his briefcase, watching Alfred stand out of the corner of his eye. The teen was doing the same as he fetched his own bag.

"So are we-"

"Yes, yes!" the English teacher replied suddenly, fumbling with his keys as an ecstatic feeling coursed through Alfred. He shouted happily once more and followed his teacher out of the portable, the door locking behind them.

"If anyone asks, boy, I'm giving you additional tutoring."

And so it went, for the rest of the school year.


It was the first week of summer, exactly a month before Alfred's nineteenth birthday, when the senior told his teacher that he was going to law school. The initial reaction was congratulations, but Arthur, as he had insisted he be called when not in a school setting, eventually frowned and shook his head, confusion taking over.

"That's... four years, at least. Six if you go all the way. You'll be gone so long," he muttered, staring out at the fireflies that were floating around the backyard of the apartment complex as he sat on his balcony swing with Alfred's head in his lap. The boy was close to falling asleep.

"Yeah, but I'll do my best to keep in touch. I may be goin' across the country, but I'll still be with you."

Arthur chuckled, running a hand through his ex-student's unruly hair. "That was rather deep, for you."

"Hey!" Alfred pouted, squinting his blue eyes up at the other man. "I may have passed your class with a C-average but I still passed!"

"That you did, and I'm very proud of you," the Briton replied. He leaned down to place a chaste kiss on the boy's forehead, which earned him a hum of approval. "When are you leaving?"

Alfred huffed and blinked as he tried to remember when his flight was. "Like, next Friday I think. Today's Saturday, right?"

Arthur nodded, leaning his head back against the cushions of the swing. "Not nearly enough time..."

"You gonna miss me, babe?" Alfred sent him a cheesy grin, but it died into a small smile when Arthur simply nodded again. "I'm gonna miss you... a lot... Like, you have no idea how much I'm gonna think of you."

The elder male flushed darkly in the dim light. "Just try not to get in trouble for getting off in the bathroom again, Alfred."

This time it was the American boy who turned red and he sat up indignantly. "Hey hey, it's not my fault! You're the one who was quoting Lady Macbeth in your sex voice!"

A grumble emitted itself from Arthur as he slapped a palm over his face. "D-don't say such things. Besides, it was your own fault that you decided not to do it in the privacy of a stall and rather preferred to hang onto the sink."

Alfred stuck his tongue out at the man, standing for a moment to stretch before crawling in Arthur's lap; the man raised a thick eyebrow and wrapped his arms around the other's waist. "Hey, Arthur, how're we gonna spend our time until I gotta leave?" The boy's voice was low, already clouded as he leaned in to place a slew of kisses along Arthur's neck, pushing aside the collar of his shirt to reach his collarbone.

The teacher released a contented sigh. "I think you're answering your own question, lad," he muttered, his hands sidling up underneath Alfred's shirt as the boy laughed and pulled away.

"Yeah, but I'd prefer not to get mosquito bites on my ass, thank you very much." Arthur chuckled and stood with him, following him back into the apartment and down the hall where they would stay for the rest of the night.


The rest of the week passed too quickly for Arthur's liking, and it was Thursday before either male knew it. Alfred had decided to spend the day with his lover, dedicating the next day to his family before got on his plane Friday night. Alfred and Arthur were both nervous as they walked together along the pier, gazing out at the ocean. It was a beautiful day, but it merely mocked the hurricane swirling around the two.

When they were far enough away from other people, Arthur ducked behind a fishing shack and took Alfred with him, pulling the younger man into a fierce kiss that was immediately all tongue and no holds barred. Alfred was the first to moan as he grabbed the other underneath his butt, lifted him into the air, and backed him against the wall of the shack. Arthur's arms held fast at his shoulders, his legs at his waist to pull the young blond closer, and his lips in a tight lock with Alfred's. It wasn't long before the Briton was crying and Alfred was kissing his tears away, still holding him up against the wall.

"Alfred, you can't leave me... y-you simply can't... I don't know what to do without you..." The choked words barely made it past his throat. Right away, Alfred reciprocated with another kiss.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so fucking sorry... I'll come back, though, and I'll be an awesome lawyer and we'll be rich and live in a huge house with all the unicorns you want," he mumbled, smiling when he received a hiccuping laugh from Arthur.

"That sounds smashing, love..." The elder paused, shifting his legs around Alfred's waist and nestling his head in the crook of the boy's neck. "Promise me. Promise me that you'll do just that. Promise me that you'll come back and we'll be together again, just like now..."

"I promise, baby. I'll come back for you," Alfred replied. He gripped Arthur's waist and lowered him back onto the ground with slight hesitation; he always enjoyed when the two of them were so close to each other. They pulled away from each other with a final kiss and started walking back down the pier in a more comfortable silence. "Come on, let's get some lunch, I'm starving!" the younger finally put in.

Arthur huffed, smiling gently. "All right, even though you're always starving." He paused, feeling a slight twinge of pain in his stomach. He frowned. "I'll admit I'm feeling a bit peckish as well."

"Awesome! Let's go, let's go!"

It would be their final meal together for six years.


D'awww. I love making Arty cry. It suits him. His mood changes are his tsundere-ness showing through, how he went from bitchy teacher to omg can't live without you. If you didn't understand, this is pretty much the prologue for the first chapter, I just wrote the other one first =3=.

Hope you enjoyed? I'll be writing another short epilogue from Anna's older point of view on her fathers' relationship, since it was requested.