Arthur glared down at the clock on his hand, watching the minute hand tick by without a problem. He reached out and ran his finger across the gas like clock, feeling nothing against his finger; but yet every tick of the thing sent a tingle through his body.

"I swear I'll never drink again." He whispered to himself, looking out the window that rested beside his bed. It was late at night; around the same time that Peter had said he would meet the young British man.

"Never, ever again." He breathed out and slid into bed, pulling the covers up over his chin, so that he was warm and comfy. Hell if anybody was going to force him out of bed tonight. This was more of a half-witted thought, for he knew he couldn't stop it if Peter wanted to. That is why his vest was snug against him, and he was still dressed nicely in the suit he had worn earlier that day.

"I thought you couldn't look any more idiotic... but come on! Even you, Mister Gentlemen, must have a pair of pajamas!" A loud voiced boomed from the doorway, and Arthur winced.

"You're not real. I just need to get a hold of this hallucination and stop it... then I can go to the doctors tomorrow to see what is wrong." He whispered, trying not to think that if this really was an hallucination... then it wasn't going to do good for him to talk back to it.

"Oh come on! I thought we had gotten past this already." A soft scuffling across the floor caught Arthur's attention, making him wince.

"Leave my wood floors alone." He grumbled out softly, tugging the blanket up over his head. He felt a sharp tug back and the blanket flew down half his body, making him let out a soft yelp. He reached down and grabbed it again, tugging it back up over his head.

"Awesome! Is this a new game?!" Peter gasped out, and Arthur was about ready to give a snarky remark when the blanket was fully ripped away from his shivering body. Shivering with something that had nothing to do with the cold draft coming from the seal of the window.

"No! Give it back, I'm going to bed!" Arthur gasped, sitting up in bed. He reached out carefully, searching in the darkness for the blanket.

"No you aren't. I don't like it when people break promises, so I don't accept them." Peter said, casually.

A few more scuffles of boots on wooden floor, then the room was filled with light coming from the chandelier on the ceiling. Arthur winced, putting his hand over his eyes, so that they could adjust to the change a bit easier.

"Stupid! You're going to make me blind!" Arthur snapped. Really he didn't care, he did it all the time. He was grasping at the last remaining straws, trying everything in his power to not go to... well wherever the hell Peter might take him. If it was a place at all, or rather another time.

"Nonsense, I know you won't ever go blind in your lifetime," Peter danced forward, his footsteps padding eerily in the silence, "Time Traveler, remember?"

"I bloody well remember." Arthur sighed, sliding out of bed. His bare feet touched down onto the ground, and he slid his feet into his shoes, not even caring that he didn't have socks on at the moment.

"Better that you're dressed already though. We've got about... half a minute, give or take a few seconds." Peter murmured, his eyes glazed over.

Arthur nibbled at his bottom lip, and then brought his gaze back down to the watch on his hand. He tilted his head to the side, frowning at it. If anybody seen this it certainly wouldn't be normal. Actually he wasn't even sure he could blame it on a tattoo at all, because a lot of people didn't even realize what those were at this time, and if the were going back... well people not even realize what that was.

He reached down, grabbing a scarf from around the bedpost. He slid it over his hand, wrapping it up tightly until it looked as if it was merely bandaged, perhaps from a sprained or broken bone.

"Ready! I'd close your mouth if I were you. Wouldn't want something to climb in." Peter chirped, and Arthur let out another yelp, when two hands swept over his head. He shivered, reaching up automatically to remove them.

"Sorry, can't let you do that. You will go blind this time if you do." Peter murmured, his hands clamped tightly over Arthur's eyes. Arthur felt Peters hands shift, until a pair of muffs were placed over Arthur's ears, then they were automatically placed back over his eyes.

The young blonde felt like he was being suffocated, and placed into a soundless room that was filled with nothing but darkness. He felt rushing air from around him, and yet his feet never left the wooden flooring beneath him. He shivered, clenching his mouth shut, trying to remember the boys last wish for him to do. He didn't exactly know what kinds of things lived in the 'time-stream' but hell if he was going to let one crawl into his mouth. There was a hard sucking sensation, sweeping up throughout his body, and a tugging at his clothes from unseen and unheard evils.

Arthur reached out, his hands placing against Peter's chest softly, feeling the odd boys heartbeat steady against his fingertips, rooting him to reality.

It was over just as soon as it begun. The sucking sensation left him wobbly on his feet, when Arthur finally let go of Peters cloak. He hadn't even realized he had been clenching at it so tightly.

"Not so bad, yeah? Better than last time... I thought they were going to eat your father in their excitement." Peter mouthed to Arthur, reaching up and finally pulling out the muffs from his head. Sound rushed back to Arthur, once again making his knees wobbly from the sudden change.

"W-Who... Who tried to.. eat my father." Arthur let out a throaty sigh, his words gruff from fear.

Peter paused, pursing his lips up at Arthur, "My friends."

"You've got odd friends." Arthur grumbled, rubbing at his ears where the muffs at left marks, "Was this really necessary?!"

"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Was Peters only reply, placing the muffs carefully back into his cloak.

"Oh." Arthur breathed, feeling no other response willing to come out of his lips. He reasoned that he didn't really want to know how the bloody handprint that appeared on his shoe had gotten there. Peter's friends didn't seem very friendly.

"Good response. With how much time you spend reading, you'd think you could come up with a better reply than that." Peter grumbled, grabbing Arthur's wrist, and tugged him forward.

For the first time since he had opened his eyes to their destination, he finally took in his surroundings, being mildly surprised. It was most definitely his house, maybe a bit less rickety and a lot dustier. The room he stood in was empty, without a trace of having just held a bed with an English man and a demon fighting over the covers.

"Well at least we know we haven't gone back too far..."

"How far were we supposed to go back?" Arthur questioned, looking around him as they walked through the halls of his once him, or would be in the future. It was all horribly bare, and slightly creepy now that the place didn't have a light on in it. Obviously abandoned, by whom Arthur wasn't too keen on finding out.

"Not sure. I don't get to make that choice, my friends do. I'm jut the chauffeur of course." Peter giggled softly, slipping through the front door, and pulling Arthur around behind him.

"What? Well then how do you know we are in the right place?!" Arthur felt panic rise up in his throat. He wasn't sure whether he could do this or not.

"Well we aren't dead yet, so I assume we are in the right place." Peter chimed, happily. The small demon loved the past, and loved the way he could visit it, "If we stepped into the wrong time-steam, we'd have either gone to the beginning of time, or our skin would have been melted off from the apocalypse."

Arthur huffed. He wasn't even getting straight answers back, how was he supposed to understand this? He couldn't think of a way to understand even when they were, though they knew where. He never thought he'd have to go through that. He'd always known what day it was, he'd never been lost in the creases of time streams before; never before dreamed of such a feat.

"I don't even want to know what you are talking about with the apocalypse." Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his short locks and trying to get Peter to let go of his arm.

"Oops; said too much." Peter mumbled, shifting past a person, and going toward a man holding an armful of newspapers. The young boy reached up and snagged one without anybody noticing, flipping it over and sliding his finger across the headline, before he froze.

"What? What's wrong?" Arthur questioned, panic rising up again. He felt his hands start to shake and he glanced around. Perhaps their skin was about to burn off...

"Oh... I didn't know we were... going here." Peter mumbled, nibbling at his bottom lip, "This one upsets me a bit."

Arthur frowned back at him; so far he hadn't seen anything upset the young demon. He reached out and tilted the paper down, so that he could read the date... his eyes grew huge.

"You brought us back to 1915? We are about thirty-five years in the past!" Arthur gushed, grabbing the paper from the others hands.

"That I did... you're lucky. The last person I sent back, we went to the Egyptian time. That was lots of fun." Peter's mood abruptly changed once again, this time thoughtful.

Arthur abruptly shook his head, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself. He was either going to punch Peter in the face, or faint. He still hadn't decided which to act upon yet.

"Now I know what you're probably thinking..." Peter trailed off, glancing down at Arthur's clenched fist, "But now is not the time to get feisty."

"I'm not feisty... I'm bloody mad!" Arthur snapped, making Peter smirk.

"Well... I'll leave you to that then." Peter snickered and turned around, heading back towards the building that they had just left.

"Oh hell no! You are not leaving me here, you git!" Arthur snapped, making several people on the dirt walk they were on look at him in curiosity.

"I told you once, and I'll tell you again, I can't be with you on your adventure!" Peter grumbled, still walking in the next direction, "It would ruin the whole thing... Go to the last house on the left, and make friends with the people there."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Peter was gone just as quickly as he had come that first night. He stood there, watching the place where his young companion had been standing, before a man knocked into him, grunting a foul word at him for him to get a move on.

He turned on his heel, staring down the street where he had been told to walk, and worried his lip. What else was he to do? He was half wanting to go find a nice inn, where he could sit and wait for Peter to get off of his high horse and come get him... but that would accomplish nothing.

He walked forward almost in a daze, bumping into several people along the way. He felt out of place, especially in how he was dressed. Sure in his time, his suit was extremely nice, almost too nice for this place though. He was getting odd looks, from curious passerby's. One old woman even reached out to stroke his vest, looking up into his green eyes, and then mumbling to herself. Arthur sped past her as fast as he could, turning a corner and going to the last house on the left.

The neighborhood was boosting with activity, the neighbors chatting with each other on the lawn. He sidestepped as many of them as he could, giving polite nods in return to others. One man was even out brushing at his hedges, and when Arthur walked past he almost got a thrown weed in his face, which he was adamantly apologized to for.

By the time he finally reached the last house, he was worse for the wear than any other. It felt like he still hadn't slept, which of course he hadn't.

He stepped up the steps carefully, glad to be where he was going, and knocked on the door. It did not cross his mind that the person living there might find this just a bit odd. Some random stranger, dressed to the 'T' yet covered in dirt and grass, knocking on their door at dusk.

"Yes?" A whimsical voice called out, making Arthur's head snap up, and peering into a very handsome face; enveloped in golden locks of hair and just the hint of a beard along the curve of his jaw.

"I... uh..." Arthur paused, looking down. He wasn't even sure what to say.

"Oh non! A pretty eyed man like you shouldn't look so troubled!" The man gasped, pressing his hands against Arthur's cheeks, making Arthur's mouth pop open in surprised.

"Are you French?" Arthur blurted out, tearing his head away.

"Oh... you are English..." The man grumbled, than his smile brightened even more, "Do not worry! I do not mind large eyebrows... They can be like a beard when at certain activities!" The man then let out a loud (albeit slightly odd) laugh.

"W-What?! How dare you!" Arthur gasped out, narrowing his eyes at the man, "H-How dare you raise conclusions on the things I take part in!"

"So you do take part in them, non?" The man gushed, and then chuckled, "I am only playing with you. I am Francis." Arthur's hand was taken, squeezed, "I assume you are here for the job I sent out to the paper?"

Arthur blinked at him, sucking in a breath. Okay so he had no idea what the man was talking about, and he mostly just wanted to punch the other in the jaw as soon as possible... but he decided against it.

"Yes... Yes of course." Arthur straightened his suit jacket out just a bit.

"Good... I believe I've accidentally scared others away." Francis murmured, this time a small frown appearing on his face.

"Couldn't understand how." Arthur grumbled, making Francis break out into a grin.

"Oh, feisty." Francis retorted back, opening the door wide to the offending English man.

"You know, I've been hearing that a lot lately." Arthur grumbled, carefully stepping inside, and looking down to make sure no dirt was on his shoes. He glanced back up again, holding out his hand, "Arthur Kirkland."

"Francis Bonnefoy." Francis took his hand, giving it a soft squeeze instead of shaking it, before he turned on his heel, motioning Arthur forward, "You're probably wondering their names, though, right?"

"Who?" Arthur blinked

Francis paused, raising an eyebrow, "The children that you're going to babysit?"

Arthur felt his face pale, and his mouth popped open. It was that he didn't like kids... he did; when they were behaving. Most of the times they were wiping some kind of goo on his suits, or grabbing his loved books only to tear the papers apart and break the bindings. To say he wasn't a person who liked children... would be about right.

"Children?" He breathed out, looking up.

"Well yes, that was what the ad said." Francis stepped forward, pulling them both into a small sitting room right off the door. The room was large, and luxurious. Two couches sat across the wall, and the room was layered in rich browns that made the whole place look warm despite the cold that had drafted through from the open door, "Sit; please."

"Thank you..." Arthur perched himself politely on the edge of the cushion, crossing one leg over the other.

"About the children, there are two and they are identical male twins... Don't worry about mixing them up, the neighbors do it all the time." Francis continued, sitting down across from Arthur, "I'd like somebody with experience, so if you have any please tell, but it isn't needed."

Arthur glanced down at his hands. The most experience he had watching kids, was when one ended up lost around his home and he took him in for about five minutes.

"I don't happen to have much experience on this... it was more of a spur of the moment kind of thing." That was an understatement in his opinion.

"That's okay, as long as you halfway get along with children. They shouldn't bother you much, I'll only need you on Wednesday and Saturday nights... unless asked otherwise." Francis tapped his chin, another smile gracing across his face; and this next response was given with a well-placed wink, "But you can come anytime you want."

Arthur sputtered, his cheeks tinging slightly pink, "H-How dare you again..."

Francis chuckled, shaking his head, "Oh I am glad I did not hire that other lady! This is much more fun."

Arthur opened his lips to give off another snarky remark, before he glanced back over Francis shoulder, blinking slowly as a little boy, horribly covered in some white power, tried to sneak past. He couldn't have been older than three or four, with golden locks that were the exact same shade of Francis', just a bit shorter cut.

Francis noticed the odd look on Arthur's face and he twisted around, going absolutely still in his chair as he took in the boy, who was now trailing powder across the floor as he tip toed.

"Alfred, what a lovely costume." Francis called out, making the boy let out a large yelp and jump. He turned wide eyes on Francis, then glanced down at his dirty clothes and skin.

"Matthew got into the flour again!" The boy, who Arthur presumed as Alfred, instantly yelled, probably throwing his twin brother under the bus per say.