Arthur kicked the door shut, his massive eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. Alfred had spent the walk from the university to the bus stop talking about his favorite superheroes, the bus ride back to their apartment complex blabbering about his day at 'that stuffy English college', and the walk into the building and up to their respective floors chattering about life back in New York. Arthur had mainly just listened silently; he'd given up on shaking the boy off and was too tired to try to get a word in.

He was relieved to be back in the quiet of his apartment, his cat, Tilly, winding around his legs.

"Hi there, lovely. Do you want something to eat?" He asked, scooping up the tortoiseshell.

She mewed softly and looked up at him. He had always firmly believed that she understood him, it was actually how she'd been named. He remembered sitting there in front of her trying every name he could think of until he finally came to Tilly. At the sound of her name (and he was sure that it was for that reason and no other) she'd mewed and batted at his hand.

Arthur smiled sweetly at the cat, she was a major soft spot for him, as he got out some sardines and dropped a few in her bowl.

While she ate, he walked back into the main room, sitting down to work on his French homework (bloody frog teacher). He was just finishing the first page when music started blasting… again.

"Bloody American," He hissed under his breath.

Tilly, on the other hand, purred happily and curled into his lap.

Arthur groaned quietly as he rolled out of bed. It had been a long night and he just wanted to curl back up and sleep off his exhaustion. But, sadly, he had school.

"Artie!" The call from above did nothing to help the teen's mood.

"Hello Alfred."

"Morning Artie! You ready for the English quiz today? I'm totally psyched!"

"Yes, I am ready for the quiz. I- No! Tilly back in the house!" Arthur leapt forward, attempting to grab his cat before she could run out the door.

"Ooh, kitty!" Alfred dropped to one knee and held out a hand.

"Don't get your hopes up Jones, she doesn't seem to like anyone but me," Arthur jerked his chin up proudly, only to freeze at the sight before him.

His cat, his temperamental, I-hate-everyone-but-Arthur cat, had gingerly sniffed the American's hand and then, without a moment's more hesitation, padded forward and rubbed against the boy happily.

"What the-" Arthur mumbled in confusion.

"Look! She likes me!" Arthur expected the other to gloat, but instead he just laughed energetically and petted the cat softly.

It had taken a good ten minutes to separate his neighbor and his cat, but he'd finally succeeded, gotten his cat back inside and was on the way to the university.

He couldn't quite get passed what had happened. His cat had, quite literally, never liked anyone at first glance but him. Never. Not one single person in her three years of life. When Arthur had found her at the shelter she'd hid behind his leg and the volunteers had begged him to take her. It had taken ages to get her to calm down around Kiku and Arthur's family (though she still disliked his eldest brother). So why, did she like Alfred right off the bat?

Arthur could not, for the life of him, understand. It was because of this that he'd sat there on the bus studying his seat mate. He inspected how the boy looked, spoke, even how he held himself.

Alfred was taller than Arthur by a few inches, his hair was the colour of wheat and his eyes sparkled a clear blue from behind his wire frame glasses. He was wearing a bomber jacket (it wasn't that cold…) and jeans. The boy seemed to lack the ability to sit still, even as he lounged back in his seat his foot tapped quickly against the floor.

But Arthur finally decided why his cat had liked the boy. It was his voice. At first it seemed booming and, honestly, rather irritating. But, now that he actually listened, it was confident and warm, if a little loud. It was a rather nice voice, Arthur realized, once he ignored his original impression of the boy.

"Artie? Hey Artie! Were you even listening?" Arthur snapped back to attention and flushed, avoiding the other's disappointed gaze.

"Of course I was listening. It would be rude not to," He grumbled.

"Yeah. Ya know, I was a little worried. After yesterday I thought ya hated me or something," Alfred's voice was distinctly softer than before and he wasn't really looking at Arthur.

There was a moment of silence before, "I don't hate you. And It's Arthur you bloody git."

Alfred looked over, his face had lit up at the words and he proceded to laugh happily at the other boy's slightly flushed face.

"Good! I want us to be friends, kay?"

"O-okay," The Englishman mumbled, glancing down, avoiding the other boy's smile as he tried to figure out how that had happened.

The American went back to chattering quickly, while Arthur sat quietly and listened to his new friend.


Um, so I liked the last chapter better than this one (both in content and length) but hopefully it's okay.

I'm in an interesting (for me) situation. See, normally I have no idea where I'm going with a story. Here I know where I'm going, I just have no idea how to get there. So I'm working on it, please hang in there with me?

One more thing, if you get a chance please review? If not that's totally okay, thanks for reading anyway!