Rating for this chapter: T+ (Language and sexual situations)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the Girl Next Door 2004 Film

Kitkat is back with another installment of the Brit Next Door! Thank you for reading this!
I'd also like to give a special thanks to my editor/beta reader/idea person, Mars (Spamanomano) She came up with this entire fanfiction and simply forced my to write it, and was the one who saw the movie first and introduced me to it.

This chapter is the longest one so far, and I can't promise they'll all be this long, but I'll try to make them all that length!

If you could review this, I'd be appreciative. Thank you!


Having gym last period could be a killer. First of all, after a day of sprinting from one class to another, running to your locker and back, and having to fit in time to talk to your teachers in 5 minutes was hard enough, but then having to deal with a screaming teacher barking on your heels to run faster for an hour and a half? Killer.

Not only that, but the excitement in people just vanished. Gone like a ghost. It was hard to participate in any sport with girls spending their time trying to find the shortest pair of shorts they could to seduce the attention of any guy they would partake to liking, or the guys thinking they were too cool to try and standing in the corner playing cards until the team vs team games ended. Then there were the rare species like Alfred, who wanted to play a good game of football or soccer at any point in the day. These were the people who had ease in sports; able-bodied and forever young. Though most of these wanted to be professional sports athletes, while others like the American would rather take their time learning to become a lawyer. But alas, that was another topic.

And the final and one of the worst reasons? The allotted 3 minutes to change before the end of the day. Which was always almost missed, so instead the high schoolers got 1 minute to change, and the rest of the 5 minutes before the buses left. Quite a tight schedule.

Of course, Alfred's class had once again missed the ringing of the bell to head inside the locker rooms, and he was stuck with 1 1/2 minutes to change if he wanted to get to his lockers. And yet, knowing this, the sandy blond did nothing to hurry. In fact, he was going slower than he ever had before, taking a full minute just to strip himself of his baggy basketball shorts. Just like lunch, the student was lost in his thoughts.

Mr. Kirkland is the one I saw, He repeated once more in his mind, a frown evident on his face. He finally pulled one of his jean-legs over the curling toes of his foot, and wrenched it over his legs messily. It had to be him... who else would have that same tattoo? Alfred ran a hand through his hair, expertly avoiding the annoying cowlick that stood proudly atop his hair. Overhead, a bell chimed quite loudly in 4 high-to-low spurts, signaling the end of class and the start of passing time; which, in this case, was the end of the day's. Right before you got to go home. Alfred only paid half a mind to it, slightly hurrying his movements, as his mind flickered back to the image of Mr. Kirkland bending over, ready to retrieve his chalk. And the edges of his shirt pulling up ever so much he saw the outline of his slim body and the beginnings of ink etched into his side-

"'Ey, Slack-off! School ended!"

The boy jolted up, his pants still hanging half off of his legs and laying on the floor. Alfred's teacher stood at the entrance of the locker room, whistle hanging from his neck. It looked like he had just blown it. Funny, the blue-eyed teen hadn't even heard. "Sorry!" He stumbled out, standing up and hurriedly gripping his pants and pulling them up his hips. He'd just have to wear his PE shirt home. There was no time to change.

Grabbing his binder he brought daily to class, Alfred jumped to his feet and began sprinting out of the locker room. He was half-way to the door when the back of his neck was roughly grabbed by his gym coach, and he was frozen in his spot.

"Hey, y'kay?" The gruff voice inquired, the hairy face of the man belonging to it looking worried in that totally tough man kind of way. "You seemed out of it."

"Yessir," Alfred answered back, looking towards the exit longingly. He needed to get to his bus before they leaved. The humming sound of the motor vehicles aligned alongside the school was very clear, signaling they were ready to leave. Dammit, he had to hurry. "I promise I'm fine. My bus is leaving-"

"Look, I know from teacher's lounge today, that blubbering substitute had some problems with you and the other delinquents today," The man nodded, sporting his information to the fullest as if it was a prideful title. "So if he comes back tomorrow, and gives you any problems, tell me. I'll deal with 'im."

Alfred tapped his foot impatiently, throwing glances to the departing buses anxiously. If he didn't get on, he'd have to walk home. An hour in the dying heat? Uh-uh! He didn't think so. "Yes, thank you, sir."

"Now, go catch your bus and don't be late!"

The American grinned, agreeing full-heartedly, as he began to sprint away as quickly as possible, waving over his shoulder to the kind teacher. "Yeah! I promise!"

...And that was another promise Alfred had broken.

Seeing as he was left in the dust clouds abandoned by the buses when he had finally gotten out the doors, his three friends hollering out the window as they departed in a laughing fit over the fact the day-dreaming teen had missed his ride home completely. The boy was shocked as he stood, silently watching them depart. There was no way home, now. The heat overhead was blaring, and he'd be kicked out of the school in minutes. There really wasn't anywhere to wait for his parents to come pick him up, and besides, they didn't get off for another hour.

Ugh, He thought to himself, plopping down on the stairs leading up to the gym doors of the school. What the hell do I do now? Alfred propped his chin on his wrist, angrily puffing curses at everything in the world he could blame. His gym teacher for holding him back. His clothing for not letting him change fast enough. Himself for spacing out. That fine piece o' ass for invading his mind-!

Mentioning the not-so-sweet teacher, here Mr. Kirkland appeared, lugging along his lunch bag and briefcase he had stuffed in the back of the classroom prior to their lesson. It was humorous to watch, the grouchy man struggling with his own things as he made his way to his car stationed on the other side of the parking lot. The student knew he should offer to help his elder, just as he had been taught he was obligated to do, but for crying out loud, this teacher was a nut-job!

...Then again, Loki wasn't.

"Yo, Mr. Kirkland!" Alfred slammed to his feet, grinning crookedly. His hand flailed above his head, giving an overly enthusiastic wave. "Hey, over here!"

That was enough to get the blonde's attention, and the sub looked over at Alfred questioningly. These few moments proved enough to turn Kirkland's world upside down quite literally. Soon, he found himself slipping on a pile of rocks stacked in the middle of the road, his feet unable to get a good grip. The dress shoes blanketing his feet gave out, and he tumbled to the ground, supplies and all. Papers and pencils and pens and markers flew, scattering across the asphalt and much of Mr. Kirkland's body. Alfred couldn't help but snort, knowing now they had both fallen today as a result of each other. Eh, no teasing or mocking towards him!

The blue-eyed assistant sprinted as quickly as he could to the man's side, offering a hand out tenderly. "Need some help?" He chuckled, cocking his head to the side.

Mr. Kirkland stared up at him, silent. Heat began rising to his face at a rapid rate, flushing his neck and head thoroughly. He denied the hand, instead falling to his hands and knees to retrieve the lost items. "I'm a grown man, I can do it myself." He excused, stumbling on his words as he did so. Alfred rolled his eyes, dropping down to begin gathering everything that had been discarded. He was glanced at skeptically by the other male, though he continued to ignore it, intent on aiding his teacher, despite his wishes.

Soon, all was cleaned and replaced, which oddly reminded Alfred of earlier in his second period classroom. Mr. Kirkland had loaded his things into his trunk, preparing to head back home. He then did notice Alfred had stayed behind quite a bit after school.

"Is there a problem?" The man inquired, tilting his head.

"Eh? What do you-...Oh." The pupil chuckled, embarrassment setting in on his features. "I-I kinda... y'know... missed the bus? ...Haha..." His hand inched itself to the rear of his head, mussing his hair when his fingers ran through it in an anxious manner.

Mr. Kirkland's easily-irritated persona had been intact all day. Not once had Alfred ever seen the hint of happiness or glee from him. Only yelling, order, and more yelling. Yet, now a smile broke through onto his lips, surprising him greatly. Of course, it was a mocking smile, but it still counted!

"Do you have a ride?"

Alfred shook his head, looking quite down.

"...Would you like me to drive you?"

Alfred caught his breath, staring at the other with calculating eyes. He was a teacher, what was he gonna do? Kidnap him? Ha. Even if he tried, Alfred was still taller, stronger, and muscular, and could easily overpower Mr. Kirkland if anything were to happen. You never know, he might even get lucky on this drive home.

The thought made him grin smugly, and he subconsciously nodded. "Sure thing, Mr. K! I could use it!"

Kirkland's eye twitched at the nickname, and he held a hand up to silence him. "I'd appreciate it if you called me by my proper surname." He grimaced, and unlocked the car door. Alfred took the signal, and he let the passenger side door slip open so he could climb into the cushioned seats. He relaxed back into the soft fabric, grinning in excitement over the fact he was indeed in the other's car. Mr. Kirkland slipped in after him soon following him slamming the trunk, and rested in the car the same.

"But it's too long to say," Alfred whined, a faux pout etched across his face. "C'mon, don't you have another name I could call you?" Instead of the submissive answer the man expected, he was instead met with a sarcastic snort, Mr. Kirkland turning in his seat to back up from the space he was parked in.

"You may call me Mr. Kirkland." The tattooed blond insisted, and he pulled out into traffic on the highway, directing himself the same way as the other cars. "I'm your teacher, mind you."

"But we're out of school!" He fought back, his eyebrows knitting. Alfred folded his arms defiantly. "And it's not like you're my real teacher. You were just a sub for a day. Don't you introduce yourself to people after meeting them?"

Mr. Kirkland scoffed, turning his eyes briefly to face his student. "That's the trick. I introduce myself to adults. Not cocky, insolent brats." When Alfred feigned hurt, he sighed. "If I ever see you again in the future, I might tell you. But you don't graduate for weeks."

"But I really wanna know your name!" Alfred pressed, bouncing in his seat. "Tell me just this once! I'll even call you Mr. Kirkland the rest of this ride!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No way in hell."

"Pleeeease?"

"I said no!"

"Please Please Please Please Please Please-"

"It's Arthur! Alright?"

Alfred blinked at him at first, but gradually he began to beam. "That's a name I'll have to remember, Arth-...Mr. Kirkland." He smiled innocently at Arthur's obvious displeasure.

Ah, Arthur. The name of the person he was in love with. Or... at least in love with his body. After actually meeting the stuffy old man, he wasn't sure he'd ever actually come to enjoy him. But after interrupting the class the entire period, purposefully dropping his books rather loudly on the ground, squeaking his desk and chair, and tweeting like a bird through all of class, he had really come to enjoy irking him. Even if Arthur didn't enjoy it, damn it was fun for Alfred. The way he flushed every time, steam seeming to fume out of his ears and pour through the room, and the way his voice raised an octave as he scolded the American amused him to no end.

Arthur disturbed his thought process when he hit the top of his head, making the taller man flinch.

"What neighborhood do you live in?" The blond questioned, raising a thickened brow.

Alfred about told him he should know, then came to his senses as he remembered Arthur had no clue they were neighbors. A nice surprise, hmm? "Keep going until you hit 53rd. Turn left, and then head towards Maplewood. I'll tell you when we get there."

"That's rather convenient," Arthur nodded, his fingertips drumming on the rubber covering the steering wheel.

"How so?"

"Nothing, really. Just a shorter drive for me following. Which means I have more time when I get home to prepare for..." The man trailed off, coughing. His cheeks reddened and he glared at the road ahead.

Alfred's curiosity had been inflamed now. "For what?"

"I have company coming later. That's it."

"Parents?"

"A girl, actually."

And just like that, Alfred's dreams were crushed.


When Alfred stepped out from the car, he bid the shocked Brit (he had learned the man's country-hood during their ride with his small-talk) a solemn farewell as he stepped up to the mat of his house. Arthur had parked in his own drive-way that Alfred had simply walked from to his home from, and now his blue eyes watched the blond unload his things and stomp into his home. From what the man had said, he had been living there about a week.

Frustration overrode the teen and he slammed his fist into the wall next to the door, groaning rather loudly. He didn't know what he was feeling, exactly. Pent up anger, mixed with loss, mixed with a strange jealousy. A girl? The fucking hot, British blonds were always straight. Why not gay once in a while?

...Well, besides the singer he idolized named Niall- though he was Irish, but close enough in his eyes- Arthur had been the first... but still! It wasn't fair!

Fed up with his emotions, Alfred found himself soon sprinting to get to the back yard, hopping the fence instead of unlocking it. It was rather low, anyhow, so there wasn't a problem for the athletically-obsessed male. He picked up the nearby basketball from its place in the grass. It had lost air from its time sitting out in the weather that had pattered it with rain and wind, but it wasn't too bad. He could at least throw it in the air. Which he did, as he began dribbling it, coming up with another reason to get angry as he did.

"Stupid Francis. Telling me he was a gay prostitute."

Swish.

"Stupid Arthur, being so damn sexy."

Swish.

"Stupid Gilbert. For... being Gilbert."

Swish.

"Stupid ball! You just won't be normal!"

At that, he spun on his heels, chucking it as hard as he could at the house. He waited, expecting to hear the bouncing impact of it slamming against its face. Instead, there was a high pitched screeching, and the sound of a body collapsing in the bushes to the right of their back door. Alfred tensed, frozen. Soon, the body made itself evident as his half-brother, crumpled in a broken frame. He must have hit him...

Damn. That'd hurt. Oops.

"Matt!" He yelped and hurriedly charged to him. Hands were grabbed, and in seconds he had successfully pulled the boy to his feet. Matthew was shorter and a lot slimmer than Alfred, being close to nothing. He was scrawny and shy, though he could still pack a punch. Not that he would hurt anyone. Usually, he sat to the side and let Alfred handle his problems as the overprotective brother did, but he could still stand up for himself and others if he wanted to.

"God, Al. What was that for?" He grimaced, staring up at him with a pained expression. Matthew was more peeved than anything he hadn't been watching, but now his abdomen where he had been struck throbbed like a bitch. "Were you trying to kill the ghosts again?"

This time, it was Alfred's turn to frown, teased once more for his fear of the supernatural and occult. Goddammit, Matt could pull the wrong strings when he wanted to. "I didn't know you were there! Well, it's kind of obvious why not. Were you trying to be a ninja again?"

"Are you trying to prove you're a dumb ass who really deserves those glasses?"

"At least I don't sleep with a stuffed bear!"

"At least I don't sleep with the nightlight!"

They both cracked a grin, and Alfred patted Matthew's shoulder apologetically for ramming him in the gut. Couldn't have felt good. "You okay?"

"Eh, fine. Though you could be a bit more gentle."

The American shook his head with a grin, releasing his hold. "You know that's impossible."

"Maybe so." Matthew rocked on his feet for seconds, thinking. He'd plainly forgotten something he was opting to tell his sibling, and wasn't having any luck coming up with it. "Hm..."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, right! Did Mom tell you about the neighbor? She invited him to dinner over the phone a couple days ago. He's coming over in two days. His name's... Archy?"

Alfred's blue orbs glanced at the previously thrown ball, retrieving it and instantly fixated it into his grip. There were a few twigs latched onto it, and he brushed them to the side as they fluttered down to the dirt. "Arthur?"

Matthew nodded, realizing his mistake, and smiled lightly. "It could be interesting. I caught a glimpse of him this morning, and he didn't seem much older than us. But living alone, I can't imagine he'd still be in high school."

The oldest of the two turned his attention to slamming the sphere into the hole once more, distracted from the conversation. "Yeah, maybe." He picked it up as it bounced to him, and threw it carelessly. Alfred watched it soar through the air, tearing far ahead of him quickly. Not only did it go way over the basket, but it managed to swing over the fence and crash somewhere on the next porch. Groaning, Alfred's palm found itself smashed against his face.

"Want me to get it?" Matthew asked, noticing the distress the man was giving off. "It's no problem."

"No, I'll do it." Alfred began maneuvering to the fence, and he prepped his hands to lift him up and over. He was stopped by a hovering face, scolded for attempting to do so.

"Just go ask him. I'm sure he won't mind going out to get it."

"It's easier to go this way-"

"And illegal." Matthew reminded and pointed to the front gate. "Go meet him first. Get a head start. Tell me what he's like."

Alfred smirked, his hands falling to his sides as he began jogging towards the other's front doors. "A prick!" He called over his shoulder, breaking into laughter at his brother's confused face. "I'll be back!"


"Coming!"

Alfred shifted from foot to foot, his eyes tracing the line of plants along the front of the home. They were all neatly trimmed, a barrier of very short and crisp rose bushes heading the green branches. And finally, one tulip for every other rose was placed, completing the colorful frontal area of the household. It was unexpected for Arthur to be this outgoing with his appearance for the place, but then again, he had just recently gotten it. It was probably still in construction.

The head of the house was covered by the edges of the roof drooping off the side. The walls were painted a cool baby-blue, fading from the endless buckets of water poured over it. The roof was a simple white, chipping. Sure, the house may have been nice, being 2-storied, but it had to be cheap. It wasn't that big, or painted nicely. But only one person lived here, so it'd be overly-nice for someone of standards.

There was Arthur's pear green Camry parked in the drive-way out front, along next to a very flamboyant yellow based, blue polka-dotted convertible. It was a pretty sweet custom paint job, Alfred admitted. Whoever this girl was, she knew her stuff.

He anxiously pressed the button once more. Now knowing the mystery woman was here, he couldn't wait to see her. Alfred wanted to know Arthur's type - Why? He didn't really know. Maybe he'd be able to see how much better for Arthur he was. Then again... he was just a high-school student. But still...

"Keep your pants on, I'll be a second!" Arthur's voice echoed from somewhere inside the house, following by a girl's silenced chortling.

The boy grinned, his mind wandering back to the night before. "I'd suggest you kept better track of yours~ You never know who's watching." He laughed to himself and tapped his foot in wait, keeping himself busy.

Seconds passed, and the door slowly slid open, accompanied by Arthur's flushed face. He looked nothing like he had before, dressed down from before. Now he sported normal teenage clothing; shorts and a t-shirt. Wow. Someone didn't get that prepared for a date. How could she even want to be with the old man?

...Maybe she had caught Arthur dressing too.

"Alfred?" Arthur asked, stunned. He hadn't a clue what to say for a while, Alfred could tell, and he quietly waited for the owner of the home to say something. "Visiting at such an hour? Did you forget something in my car?"

"Artie~? Who is it?" The girl cat-called from inside, and soon a brunette appeared from somewhere in the back of the house. She wasn't all that dressed up either, looking somewhat like a hippie in a see-through blouse,- of course, she had a tank-top underneath- a flower in her hair, and jeans printed with colorful designs across the calves. "Oh, wow, Hi there! Elizaveta," She introduced immediately, sticking out her hand for the other to take. Someone wasn't shy. "You a friend of Artie's?"

"Alfred F. Jones," He stated back, proudly standing erect as he shook her dainty fingers with a firm grip. It didn't seem like Elizaveta had any romantic connections to Arthur. Not only was she completely and utterly out of his league, but the Briton sent her daring glances, as if she'd explode and do something wrong any second. You'd think Arthur'd be more worried about Alfred being stupid in front of her. Funny. "And um... not exactly."

"His boyfriend, then?" She bounced out. The suggestion made both of the two choke on their own spit, Arthur's cheeks turning such a dark red they were glowing, and Alfred's copying with a very light pink.

"Elizaveta," Arthur scolded. "Don't you even dare suggest-"

"Oh, come now, Artie! He's tall, good looking, pretty well built, cute, and someone who actually puts up with you." The girl feigned a sweet smile when he sent a glare her way, his fingers groping for her wrist to drag her back inside. While the comments flattered Alfred, he knew he had to say something to save him. Besides... weren't the two dating already?

He heroically jumped in the middle of her talking, pointing to himself as if he was an idol. "Next door neighbor, and his student, actually!" Elizaveta let off a depressed sigh, as if she was looking forward to the news of Arthur hooking up with some boy she had just met not even 5 minutes prior. "Or, at least I was today. Arthur was my sub."

"Arthur?" The older man narrowed his eyes, letting go of his hold to cross his arms. He leaned over in the slightest, his head level with Alfred's.

"Oh, right. Mr. Kirkland."

"Oh my god, Artie! Don't be such a douche!" Elizaveta laughed, ruffling his hair playfully. Arthur slipped away, from her grip, bitter for being touched. But with his messy hair, Alfred thought he looked pretty cute. His frown just added to the intensity of his attractiveness.

"Could you please keep your language to a minimum around minors?" Arthur huffed in return.

"I'm not a minor-"

"Shush, Alfred." The blond warned, wagging a finger accusingly at the girl. "Go back to the living room while I deal with this."

"Gotcha, doll! Bye, Alfred! Nice meeting you!" Elizaveta skipped out of view, humming an unfamiliar tune to herself with a sloppy grin. Arthur cringed at the terribly feminine nickname, though this didn't distract him from the task at hand.

"Now, what did you need?" Arthur asked, his attention now falling fully to Alfred. The American beamed, glancing past the man into his house.

"My ball was accidentally thrown into your backyard. Mind if I get it?" Alfred was met with an unexpected, disapproving silence. The body in front of him side-stepped, allowing the boy full entrance into the warm air inside the house. It smelled of lemons and coffee and cleaning supplies; nothing less than what Alfred had expected.

"Shoes, please."

Alfred found himself removing his nikes with the backs of his feet, kicking them off to the side of the porch, and he walked inside. "I'll only be a second!" He sang, and charged through the well-furnished home. While the outside was old, the inside was lavish. Each furniture piece and paint job matched or contrasted very tastefully, each room having one vase inside filled with fake roses. The floors had recently been polished- no doubt for the visitor- and his feet slapped against them quite loudly. Elizaveta was stretched out across the couch when he passed, her feet kicked up on the side of the couch. While she dressed like a gorgeous woman, god, her attitude was that of a man. Not that it was bad. Just odd for his tastes. She waved at him when she passed, and let her eyes closed, sipping a drink that looked awfully close to spilling. Arthur would give her hell for that later.

He finally fell to the back door, pushing it open under his grip as soon as he twisted the knob. It was easy to locate the bright orange ball lying in plain sight in Arthur's back garden. Damn, this guy was serious about decor. Where'd he get the time? Didn't he have to work?

Alfred grabbed the item, tossing it over the fence. He knew it'd land somewhere in his yard, and he was just glad to have it finished.

Back in the house, Alfred found himself face-to-face with Elizaveta. Arthur was no where to be found. "Bathroom?" He guessed, receiving a nod.

"I think he's nervous about me blabbering all about him to you. Why would I do that?" She grinned deviously, patting the spot next to her as she sat up. Alfred took it, stretching out across the overly-fluffed pillows. Just like Arthur to have that, too. "But then again, why wouldn't I~?"

"I've only known him 2 days. The man acts like I'm just here to invade his personal life." Alfred muttered in retaliation.

"Aren't you?"

"Well, no shit!"

The two shared mutual amusement, and the Hungarian woman rested herself against the back of the couch, seeming a bit disoriented. Probably getting close to tipsy, the teen figured.

"You drink?"

"I would, but my brother Matt would kill me."

"Younger or older?"

"Younger. Just watched my habits too closely. I guess I do the same to him."

Elizaveta smiled, and Alfred could tell she shared the feeling. "Yeah, I guess Arthur and I do the same. I talk to all of his friends and check up on him pretty often to make sure he's not getting drunk every day. And in return, he interrupts me during my times with my special guy friends."

"You two aren't dating?" Alfred frowned. In some sense, he was relieved.

Elizaveta snickered, glancing back to the direction in which Arthur had departed to. "Like I'd ever. He's too stuffy for me. I have a man of my own back at my home. I've just been his best friend since 7th grade. Being nice to the new exchange kid, right? He was popular for weeks for being British- since everyone's in dead love with them here- but when people realized his terrible anger he'd unleash on everyone, it just dispersed. I felt bad, and talked to him for a couple days, expecting nothing but an acquaintance. But soon we started hanging out at lunch and during classes, and since I had maybe 3 friends as well, we were just instant-buddies. I realized how fun it was to tease and annoy him to no ends. I'd protect him from the bullies, and he'd pretend to tutor me as a payback. I didn't need it, really, but it made him feel needed. Arthur was always pretty scrawny, and while he's bigger now, he's still not anything tough. He can stand up for himself and fight at least."

Alfred had been listening so intently to the story, he hadn't noticed a third presence enter the room. It startled only he, as Elizaveta had apparently seen his creeping on the far edge of the room. He was leaned against a wall, head bowed, and his arms and legs crossed. "Yes, Yes, you were a great friend and pitied me." He poked, smirking in the slightest when she sent him a raspberry "Are you really so intent on someone listening to you talk that you're telling my students my history?"

"You invited him into your house. What else did you expect me to do when you left the room? Keep myself entertained?" Elizaveta snorted, motioning to Arthur. "I'm done with my story, do as you wish."

Alfred brushed himself off, standing from his position and shrugging. "I gotta head home, anyways. Thanks for letting me get it." He grinned, reaching out his arms in the direction of the stuffy Brit. "Hug?"

"Like hell. Get your arse to your home."

"Fine, fine. Nice to see you, Lizzy! I hope I'll see you again!"

"I'll be here all week!" She waved back, relaxing back into her drink. "Remember, if you wanna come over and see me, just walk in. I don't mind."

Arthur scowled, and he glared to Alfred, who was already leaving the home. "If you do that, I'll have your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun, you two. I'll see you at dinner, Arthur. Bring Lizzy with you." With that, he wandered out the front door, slipping his shoes on halfway so his heels hung off the back, and started back to his room.

"No one wanted to know you?" Alfred pouted to himself, casting a glance back to Arthur's room. "Maybe you should try being nicer. I would have been your friend."