A/N: This fic contains nyo! and fem! characters, so, for your convenience, I'm adding a list of names here at the start.

Genderbent characters: Alice/Artie (England), Françoise (France), Julchen (Prussia), Isabella (Spain), Monika (Germany), Sakura (Japan), Chun-Yan (China), Hera (Greece)

Non-genderbent characters: Feliciano, Lovino, Alfred, Ivan, Matthew, Allistor (Scotland)


Artie showed up first, determined to be as punctual as she could for her Friday classes. Alfred had needed to run after her to keep up to her speed-walking, despite having been sitting with her at lunch previously. It had taken Matthew a bit longer to try and part from an affectionate Julchen, who insisted on kissing him just one more time before they had to go to class. And then, she would say that again, and again, and so on. He wasn't complaining, though.

"Bonjour," Matthew sighed as he popped in beside the pair of friends. Artie jumped, and he raised a brow in concern. "Oh, uh, I mean hello,"

"You're so un-American it hurts, bro," Alfred scoffed, patting the startled Artie on her shoulder. "What next, you play hockey while covered in a foot of snow – sorry, you'd say 'metre' or whatever – and you're chugging Maple Syrup?"

"Ah, sounds like a dream come true," Matthew hummed, nodding. "Désoleif I take after Papa more than you."

"'Scuse me for being a true-blooded American patriot like Ma," the boy retorted, sticking out his tongue.

"Now, now, no fighting, boys," Artie joked quietly, patting both of their backs. "Because we all know that the British are much more incredible than either Canadians or Americans." She smirked, nodding. She had always been proud of her lineage, even though she and her family lived in America now.

Before the boys had a chance to object – and certainly, Alfred was going to object – the teacher appeared in the doorway, and let the class inside. Artie just winked to Alfred, as if signaling that she had won. They sat down, both brothers to one side of Artie at their desk. Alfred, of course, had snatched up the opportunity to sit right beside her.

They were set on a task of working with line and colour, but honestly, most of the class just ignored the teacher's instructions and did their own thing – not that the teacher really minded. Mr. Vargas was one of those kinder teachers who allowed the class to do whatever it wanted, implying that it stayed within the subject boundaries. It wasn't that he was old that made him so lax; he was just a kind-hearted and overall jolly man. Artie still speculated about how he'd gotten the job in the first place, actually. Maybe because he had grandsons who went to school here, maybe because he was married to the Principal; also an old man, but of fairer hair and a sterner attitude.

Artie had taken it upon herself to draw something cool in her sketchbook, and ended up with a dragon similar to that on the flag of Wales.

"Whoa, that's so awesome," praised Alfred, glancing over to Artie's work. "Do you think you could draw me?" he cooed, pointing to himself with one finger.

"I don't think I would want your brutish face adorning my beautiful sketchbook," Artie scoffed, although she wasn't serious in her insults.

"You're killin' me, Artie," Alfred whined, slumping down onto the desk. He had been drawing some kind of superhero of his own design, although he wasn't fantastic at art, and it ended up looking quite odd. He would call it abstract if someone asked.

"Ah," mumbled Artie, thoughts returning to that of prom night. "Alfred, you know how we were talking this morning?.." She could just sense the boy's blood run cold.

"Oh, yeah, that," he laughed nervously, glancing down to his book as he started drawing something to try and distract himself. Matthew bit his lip and braced for the worst. Well, if he could even decide what the worst situation would be. Alfred getting his dreams smashed, or Françoise throwing an absolute fit and claiming how 'depressed' she was because Artie wouldn't come with her. That was quite the insensitive remark on her part, as poor Alfred was troubled by the illness, although it wasn't like she, or anyone really, knew. It was stowed away deep beneath his brother's cheery demeanor, and he did his best to cope. Either outcome of Artie's decision regarding prom would be one he wanted to avoid. But that was selfish thinking.

"I let Françoise's offer pend, because I know that you wanted to ask me, so," she said softly, voice dropping in embarrassment.

"Mm, well, the thought did come to mind," Alfred squeaked, nodding cautiously. "I was going to ask you all fancy and everything, with flowers and the whole shebang.. But I guess there's no point now." He sighed, shrugging.

"I'm still at an impasse," Artie mumbled.

Alfred tapped his chin with one finger, and then took a deep breath. "You can just go with Françoise, you know, I don't mind," he stammered. It had taken all of his courage to squeeze that out. "She's one of the most popular people at school," he continued, nodding bravely. "So you can go and have a good prom night with her. Matthew tells me how much she adores you. Besides, it's a square week now until the dance," He laughed quietly, although his heart was tearing inside.

Artie creased her brow, glancing down to the table. "Are you sure?.. I thought you-"

"I'm sure." He could tell what she had been going to say, and yes, he did. Matthew discreetly placed his hand on his brother's beneath the table, a notion of sympathy.

"If you say so, you idiot." Artie murmured, shaking off the bad atmosphere and trying to lighten up again. Well, looks like she'd be calling Françoise after all. "But what about you? Do you have someone else to go with?"

"Don't worry about me, Artie."

"Oh, alright.. Is it okay if I just go straight home this afternoon? I have some things to settle and whatnot," she asked with a faint smile.

"That's fine, don't worry," sighed Matthew, dipping his head.

"Oh, I was looking forward to your tea," joked Alfred, putting back on a cheery smile and pretending like nothing had just happened. "Which should've been coffee."

"Shut it," sneered Artie, rolling her eyes and then going back to her drawing.

The lunch break and next lesson were slow and a little awkward, with Alfred a bit out of it, and Artie feeling guilt nip at her heels with every step. The final lesson of the day was the one she despised the most. Ah, Physical Education.

After the tolling of the bell to start class, the students made their way down to the sports hall, a robust building with courts, hoops, mats; anything you could imagine for athletic activity. It even had change rooms built in to one side.

Artie clutched nervously at the strap of her bag as she wandered into the hall, quickly scurrying over to Alfred and Sakura.

"Hello," greeted Sakura, bowing slightly to her friend.

"Mm, good afternoon.." Artie mumbled, nodding. "Matthew's not here?"

"He's off skipping class with Julchen, wouldya' believe it?" scoffed Alfred, who was rummaging about in his bag.

He pulled out his sports uniform, and turned to Sakura to get her own out.

"Are you going to be okay with P.E. today, Artie?" he asked softly, lifting a brow. "You don't usually show up."

"Probably not," she admitted almost under her breath, uncomfortable and in an off mood. "I thought maybe I could give it a whisper of a go today. I doubt I'll be here long though, hah.." she whimpered, drumming her fingers nervously against her opposite arm.

"Hey," the boy hummed with a kind smile, putting an arm around the Briton's shoulders. "It'll be perfectly okay, trust me. You look just fine in the sports uniform! Besides, no-one will be judging you." He continued, doing his best to try and assure her.

"You need not worry at all, Artie-chan." Sakura added softly, although she wasn't as touchy as Alfred was in his comforting.

"I'll kick the teeth out of anyone who would dare to make fun of you, 'kay? Not that anyone will." Alfred puffed; only in her silence did he notice that Artie had started to tremble a little. As soon as he sensed that, he turned slightly and gave Artie a proper embrace. Her arms were loose as they reached around his back.

"I'm going to go to the office and claim I'm sick," she uttered softly, slumping out of Alfred's hold. "I might just come to your house after all, Alfred.. Oh, and I probably won't see you again today, so goodbye, Sakura. Have a good weekend." She mumbled, before turning tail and moving out of the hall.

"Sayonara," Sakura murmured, watching as her friend left.

"Someday I'm going to make her see that she's beautiful," Alfred sighed, shuffling off to go and get changed. Sakura followed suit.

"I hope so, Alfred-san."

"Where's Artie going?"

Alfred glanced up, to a rather dazzling Françoise. Did she put on makeup when she put on her sports uniform? Well, there was another one of the world's mysteries.

"Oh, Artie's not feeling so good." He answered with a little shrug. The French girl had managed to catch him mere seconds before he reached the boys' changing rooms. Sakura, sensing an unfavourable shift in the mood, stepped to the girls' changing rooms to avoid conflict.

"That's not good at all," Françoise pouted. "I was hoping he'd be on my team today," she whined, flicking a curl over her shoulder. "The teacher said we're playing soccer."

"Artie's favourite." Alfred mused with a little smile.

"Oh, is it?" Françoise purred. It seemed she could get valuable information out of Alfred, if she could stand how either obnoxious or dumbstruck he could be at times.

"Yeah. Always kicking my shins instead of the ball, I swear," he chuckled, delving into fond memories of when he and Matthew would face off against Artie in one of their yards. It didn't matter when one of the boys (usually Alfred) got covered in mud, either. Artie would just grab a hose and chase him around the yard with it. He missed those times, now that he thought about them. Artie wasn't as controlled by other people's thoughts, and she was much more of an open book.

"Planet Alfred, come in," Françoise joked, waving a hand in front of Alfred's eyes.

"Huh?.. Oh, my bad," he mumbled, shaking his head a touch. "Anyway, I should get changed.. Uh," Alfred excused himself and moved off to the change rooms. Wow, that could have been a lot less awkward.


"Erm, sick bay's this way," Alfred directed, pointing to one side of the school's office. Somehow, Françoise had managed to rope him into taking her to see Artie to tell her to get well soon. Damnit, maybe Matthew was right, and girls really did have this whole other language used to bend the will of the boys around them.

"Merci," the girl hummed, put in a thankfully pleasant mood. They passed the ladies at the office's front desk and headed down to the sick bay, where Artie was laying peacefully in one of the three beds.

"Hey," Alfred greeted softly, tapping the Briton on the shoulder.

".. Huh?.. Oh," Artie mumbled, rolling over and blinking open her eyes. "I must have fallen asleep. Is it three already?" she yawned, wiping her eyes and sitting up. It took her a few moments more to realise that Françoise was standing right there, puppy-dog-eyes and all.

"Sweet Jesus," Artie stammered, having been surprised by her fellow student.

"No, this is Françoise," Alfred joked, helping his friend to her feet by an extended hand.

"I've come to say that I hope you're well soon," she chirped, flashing a bright yet momentary smile. "I'd hate to think that you may be sick on prom night,"

"Oh, speaking of which," Artie interrupted, picking up her bag. "I've thought it over, and I'm able to attend it with you, Françoise," she laughed nervously, glancing once to Alfred, and then down to the floor.

"Oh, brilliant! Trèsbien!" Françoise cooed, clapping her hands together. "I can't wait."

"Trust me, me neither." Wheezed Artie, shrugging a little. "I should be going home now, so farewell," she mumbled, looking to Alfred once again.

Françoise nodded, and blew her a little kiss. "Au revoir, dear Artie."

Face as red as Françoise's lipstick, Artie began to stumble away, Alfred in tow.

"Is it just because she's French?" Artie mumbled, incredibly embarrassed. "Or are all girls like that?"

"I don't know, I don't pay attention to many girls in particular," sighed Alfred, hands in his pockets as he trudged along beside her. "This is a question for my player of a brother, not one for me."

This casual banter with Alfred seemed to calm her nerves considerably, and the two reached the gate with smiles on their faces. Of course, she was not going home per se (as she had told Françoise) because she would be heading to the Jones household. Well, it was a kind of home in a way.

"Do we wait for your brother?" Artie asked quietly, raising a brow.

"He'll probably be late home, you know how those teenagers are with their raging hormones and crazy girlfriends." Alfred joked, although his implications were serious.

"Thanks, I needed those kind of thoughts," she puffed, walking forward and tugging Alfred along by the sleeve. It was a way to make him walk faster, she figured. Besides, she was in desperate need of some tea.

"Sorry, but it's most probably maybe the truth," Alfred shrugged, speeding up to keep pace with Artie.

They reached Alfred's house shortly, being met at the door by Matthew.

"Good afternoon," mused Artie, turning smugly to her taller companion. "Matthew, this brother of yours implied to me that you were probably off having sex instead of attending class."

"What? That's crazy, Artie, don't make up mean lies about me!" Alfred protested, mouth agape in feigned shock.

Matthew laughed softly, and let the two inside. "I've no comment on the matter."

Artie moved quickly to the kitchen, using it as if it were her own. The boys' parents weren't due back home until late again, as usual, so she was free to use it. She made hot beverages to fight the late autumn cold, and brought them into the living room.

"Here, boys," she hummed, placing down the tray on the coffee table of the living room. "Look, Alfred, I made you a coffee today."

"Incredible!" he chirped, finding his cup and taking it into his hands.

"But just this once though. From tomorrow on, it's tea again. You're going to like it someday, you bloody Yank."

"I'll drink it if you serve it at our wedding, Alice," Alfred winked, receiving a kick to his side.

"Dream on. You're as mad as the Hatter himself if you think that's happening," she sneered, going right back at him with the Alice in Wonderland matter.

"It was worth a shot," laughed Alfred, drinking his coffee so that it would not spill, should Artie decide to try and hit him again.

"Oh, wedding dresses," Artie mumbled, as if recalling something.

"Thinking of wearing a pretty one when you walk down the aisle towards me?" Alfred teased, peering over his mug.

"Uh, no, but I just thought that I have nothing suitable to wear for this upcoming prom," she fretted, glancing away. "And I have no decent cash with me to buy anything, nor do I wish to go shopping in the first place," she whined, leaning her head back in defeat.

"Weren't you saying that you were going to go with Sakura? What were you planning to wear then?" Matthew murmured, intrigued.

"That was a joke, I wasn't serious." Artie puffed.

"Do you reckon you'd fit Sakura's size? I'm sure she wouldn't mind lending you a dress or something," he suggested quietly, shrugging.

"That's actually a strike of genius," she murmured. "I suppose I could try and get up the guts to dress all fancy and the like, since it is the big dance of my school years," Artie laughed quietly, but paused, and pouted her lips. "But I'd-.." she grew quiet, and took her tea cup to her mouth instead of continuing to talk.

"You would..?" Alfred continued, oblivious to the change to sullen in the room's mood.

"Erm, I'd need to look on-par with Françoise. I doubt she'd want a scruffy, scrawny and sickly pale date, not to mention one with a chest as flat as a board," she mumbled meekly, biting her lip. "It feels so strange, to have my thoughts centered on what clothes and makeup I'd need," Artie joked in a whisper, flicking her fringe. "I've never even put on something as simple as eyeshadow before."

"We can talk to Sakura about the dress over the phone, but Alice, I want you to know; you don't need to change a thing about yourself to be beautiful." Alfred mused softly, staring down into his coffee with warm blue eyes.

"You could do stand-up with that one, idiot."

"It's the truth," he insisted, pulling out his phone. "But here, I have Sakura's number, so you can call her now." Alfred nodded, and handed the device over.

"Again, why do you have her number and I don't?" Artie mumbled, incredulous to the fact that Alfred seemed to know much more about their Japanese friend than she did. "Bloody hell, I got Françoise's number before I got Sakura's."

"Did you try asking dear Sakura for it?" He scoffed, amused.

"Point taken, now shut up." Artie puffed, glad to have shifted the subject.

She pressed dial, and then waited for Sakura to pick up.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Hello, Sakura, it's me," Artie laughed quietly, getting up and wandering away from the couch where she had previously been sitting.

"Oh, Artie-chan, I didn't know you had my number." Sakura mumbled through the phone, a touch surprised.

"I'm using Alfred's phone." She explained, shrugging although her friend couldn't see.

They came to discussing the issue of borrowing a dress, and Sakura agreed without any arguing. It was in her nature to be hospitable, after all. She also noted that if none of her dresses were to fit Artie, then she was sure Chun-Yan wouldn't object to lending her a dress for the night. Also, she was invited over to Sakura's tomorrow to try things on, drink tea, and just chat. Artie made sure that it was on her to-do list to grab her friend's phone number. The pair said their goodbyes and hung up; with that done, Artie returned to the couch and handed the phone back over to Alfred.

"Thank you," she hummed softly, hugging her knees loosely to her chest. "This whole bloody prom thing is putting me on edge, I swear to god,"

"Don't swear, it's not very nice." Matthew joked, giving her a friendly nudge as he moved to sit down beside her.

"Oh, fuck that," Alfred joked, shuffling closer to Artie and then giving his brother a grin. They did seem to have a different plan for whenever their dear friend was upset and seeking solace – consciously or not.

"Double Jones brother ultimate power, go!" He beamed. As (dorkily) commanded, he and Matthew practically attacked Artie with overlapping bear hugs, all of this being an absolute surprise to her. If Alfred was any kind of superhero, he was one who existed just to spread good feeling and cheerfulness.

As they held the embrace and shared their warmth and good will, Artie found herself almost reduced to tears. She took a deep breath.

"I love you guys," she mumbled, trying to hug the two back (as near impossible as that was in her position). "Thanks for staying with me all of these years and being my friend," Artie laughed softly, lip quivering. "You know I've never been good with friends."

"Love you too, Artie," Matthew purred, and gave her a little squeeze.

Alfred had ended up sprawled over the two, hugging them as tightly as his arms would allow. "And I love you more, Alice," he hummed, forgetting all about Françoise and the prom and the rest of either of their worries for now. "You guys are the best people ever."

"I'm not so sure about the second one," she laughed quietly, not making any attempt to escape them like she normally would.

It grew late, the three almost inseparable the entire afternoon. These clingy and close afternoons were scarce, perhaps due to Artie's generally cold demeanor, but the few that they did have were pleasant, and would be remembered. Artie left only after giving each brother another firm hug. Tomorrow, it would be Saturday, and she would be visiting Sakura's house to try and find a dress to borrow for prom on the coming Friday. Sakura was one of her closest friends, and Artie thought it easier to be comfortable around her. She was so relaxed for the majority of the time, and was calming to be around.

As she got into bed that night, Artie closed her eyes and let the recall of today wash over her like displaced scenes of a film. A lot of pent-up stress collected in her mind, and she tried to force it away, but it seemed to remain. She prayed for the week to pass quickly, and then the prom that she so much feared to pass even quicker.