A/N: Hello everyone! I'm going to try and update this every day, to make up for all the discontinued stories I've started and never finished in the past. So here's chapter 3 of NTLL - I know there's been a distinctive lack of Kirklands so far, but I assure you they will turn up soon enough ;)
Enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: D'you really think I have permission to own these characters. Really?


"...And so you see, I need a job here 'cause I spent all my money on crap - uh, that'll sound terrible! Wait… I need a job, because my psycho brother - no, that won't work either…" Alfred tried for the umpteenth time as he paced back and forth. He was currently in a waiting room, nervously anticipating his first interview; a conference with JCPenney, a popular clothing store his brother was rather fond of. It was one of the only places with a job free, at least of what was advertised in the newspaper he'd picked up in town yesterday. He was now staying at a hotel, having asked (read: begged) his group of steadfast friends for a small amount of money just to pay for a room for the night. His friends, who weren't that loaded themselves and had always relied on Alfred's tonne of cash, had rather reluctantly agreed, and so he'd managed to find the cheapest hotel in town and had been curled up in his dingy bed despairing - until now. Now, he stood in the waiting room, impatiently anticipating an interview with the first company he'd found. He realised he looked terrible - he wore his clothes from yesterday, crumpled and extravagantly obnoxious, and his hair was greasy and limp from lack of washing due to his current state of depression. However, he was determined to make a good impression, and when it was his turn, he strode self-righteously into the interviewing office, ignoring the whispers of contempt from the gossipers in the waiting room. He was a heroic man, for God's sakes, and he would not stand by and let these people walk all over him! He was Alfred F. Jones! He was amazing! He was… he was…


He was completely useless.

"Ah, thank you for your rather… interesting interview, Mr. Jones. You'll hear from us in a few days to see whether you've… gotten the job," the brisk manager of the nearest Walgreens store muttered, trying to appear somewhat consoling when it was apparent Alfred had definitely not gotten the job. Christ, he was lucky they were being so nice to him - he had utterly and completely failed at giving a good impression on any of the interviews he'd been to today. He'd tried all the open jobs he could find - but he'd even failed the Walmart interview, bursting into Bonnie Tyler's 'I need a hero' so as to show the manager he could encourage and motivate the other workers through singing. Yeah, they'd pretty much kicked him out - at least this store was trying to be nice, even though it was pretty clear they thought his idea of 'pretending to overdose on drugs and dying in the store window - to show people how bad drugs can be!' was not a good one; no, they showed him the door rather politely, and he could only hear their annoyed sighs after they'd shut the door behind him. So at least that was a partial success, right?

Oh God, who was he kidding? He'd never get a job! This was why Matthew should have lent him some money instead of locking him out! That way he could have… he could have… spent it on himself. Alfred sighed as he realised his brother's point. He needed Independence, goddammit! He needed to show everyone that he wasn't just good at spending money! … Except that's all he was good for, at least now anyway. It wasn't that he'd never been intelligent - no, he remembered clearly teachers congratulating him throughout school on his amazing Chemistry results, and how he excelled at every sport he played with ease, making it onto every team and grabbing all the girls with his athletic body and looks… God, what on Earth had happened to him!?

"I got lazy, that's what," Alfred complained to the air, ignoring the strange looks the pedestrians walking alongside gave him. Probably thinking what a loser he was. Ugh. When had he turned into such a failure? With a sigh, he quickened his pace and began to head back to his current 'home'.

Eventually he arrived back at the hotel, fiddling with the lock for around 5 minutes before realising he was using his brother's flat key. Gritting his teeth, he stormed into the grimy room and flopped onto the cheap duvet with a sigh. In the state he was in, he could only think of one thing to do - and that was get pissed out of his mind with his three best friends. Okay, so maybe he was broke now so technically they would have to pay for it all - but wasn't that what friends were for?

He rolled over, grabbing his expensive iPhone from where it lay on the bed next to him - great, he'd need to pay for more credit soon as well - and hastily sent not-at-all-desperate-sounding texts to his three loyal friends. They'd reply, and then they could all go and forget about Alfred's toils and troubles. It was a perfect plan, and although it wouldn't help his current situation any better he figured it would be good to at least wait for a definite 'no' from the employers - after all, they could have just been faking their disdain of him. Right?…

Well, it would have been a perfect plan, if his friends weren't all such douchebags.

The responses he eventually received were extremely unenthusiastic, with claims of hangovers from a party the previous night amongst other ill-thought-out excuses. Alfred was shell-shocked. What, they'd had a party without him? Him, the King of Parties and Money?… Well, he supposed he couldn't exactly claim that title any more, but he was still a party animal in spirit! Now feeling wretched and abandoned, he demanded that they meet at the nearest pub to him, without any exceptions. After a couple more excuses and complaints, he managed to get all three to agree to come, and feeling slightly consoled he headed out to town. On the way out of the hotel, the lady next to the counter fluttered her eyelashes at him with a flirtatious smirk, and Alfred grinned to himself. See, he may not be the no.1 party king any more, but he still had his good looks-

"Hey, Roma!" she called suddenly, and Alfred frowned.

"Salve, pulchra!"

Alfred flinched as a tall, dark Latin man swept past him, flouncing towards the receptionist and kissing her hand with an over-dramatised smooch sound. Alfred grimaced as the girl was reduced to giggles, running a hand through the man's hair and focusing solely on him.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't looking at him. But he was still handsome, right? Right?…

Oh, who was he kidding. It was hopeless, he was hopeless, and there was only one option left - get piss-drunk and forget everything.

Perfect.


"So, espèce d'idiot, what has been troubling you?" Francis said, patting the aforementioned 'idiot' on the back while they waited for Gilbert to arrive and Antonio ordered drinks.

Alfred, having known the Frenchman long enough to understand his insults, grimaced and shifted away. "That's not very nice, considering my life has just been eternally ruined," Alfred sniffed pathetically, burying his head in his arms on the bar counter. Francis raised an eyebrow, and turned to Antonio.

The Spaniard just shrugged, and pointed to the drinks. "Mi amigo, just try a drink. You'll feel better, I swear!" he smiled, ever the optimistic one of the group. Francis nodded in agreement, pushing the drink towards the depressed American and smiling when it was hastily swallowed. Alfred burped rather loudly after finishing the tankard and nodded in satisfaction.

Francis grinned. "See, I knew you were just overreacting! Honestly, sometimes you are a completement débile," he crooned, stroking Alfred's hair condescendingly.

Alfred set down the now empty mug, eyes trained on the table, and nodded. "I guess it could be worse," he considered thoughtfully, glancing up at the Frenchman wryly. "I mean, I could have a hairy-ass face like yours."

Francis gasped in mock hurt, stroking his patchy stubble self-consciously whilst Antonio burst out laughing.

"M-make that hairy ass, it works just as well!" he giggled cheerfully, flinching only when Francis glanced at him with a look of irritation gracing his features.

"Ah, you must be depressed, mon ami, to think of such a pathetic insult," he commented mildly, turning back to Alfred as he spoke. Alfred only grunted in response, and ordered another drink.

Suddenly, the doors slammed open, followed by a dramatic cry.

"The great Gilbert is here! You can bow down to my awesomeness now!" the Prussian crowed, striding purposefully across the bar while Francis tutted, Antonio snickered and the other customers gave disapproving looks. Gilbert only flipped a finger their way, beckoning to the small yellow bird following behind the 'awesome' man. Gilbert arrived at their side of the bar with a leer, the bird not too far behind. Upon seeing Alfred, the bird flew over to him and landed on his head.

Alfred groaned miserably. "Go 'way Gilbird, I'm not in the mood," he growled, and swatted the small bird with his tankard. It gave a screech of annoyance as it landed on the wooden floor, its balance knocked.

Within a split-second, Gilbert was on the floor, cradling the little bird desperately and sending a stone-cold glare to Alfred, which was only enhanced dramatically by his flashing red eyes. Alfred ignored the scene with a disdainful air, only angering the Prussian more.

"Hey, I know you've just fucked up your life but that's no way to treat my chick!" Gilbert huffed, sitting down heavily on one of the bar stools and glaring at Alfred. The American lifted his head wearily, leveling his stare with the Prussian's. Neither wavered, until Antonio laughed nervously and handed them both drinks.

Gilbert nodded in appreciation and took the beer happily. "Now then, what's been ailing ya?" The albino got to the heart of the matter, swigging down the beer like it was water.

Alfred gave him The Look. "You know why dude. I'm completely broke, my brother locked me out of my own house and said I need to get a job, I've messed up at every single interview today by singing, dancing and insulting the company and I have no options left so my life is now over!" he wailed, throwing his arms dramatically up for effect. The trio winced in sympathy for him.

"Yeah, that sucks balls alright," Gilbert laughed, "So, anyone got any ideas? Any wise words they could offer?"

Francis gave a shrug. "Personally, I think you got what was coming to you, at least through your brother," he mumbled as Alfred sent a glare his way. "Don't look at me like that - you have had an easy life, and it's suddenly gotten oh-so-rough - bois noueux, hache affilée, as they say."

Antonio looked quizzically at the Frenchman. "Well, I have no idea what he just said but I have to agree - this is kind of your fault. Getting a job seems to be the only way out, I guess," he offered, and Alfred gave a huff as his forehead hit the table.

Gilbert gave a loud, obnoxious laugh. "Woah, you're all good friends aren't you? Hey, why don't we help the little guy and suggest different jobs instead of blaming him? I'm pretty sure the dude already knows how stupid he's been," he lamented, and the other two men shrugged nonchalantly. Alfred raised his eyes up to the Germanic man, giving a weak smile.

"Yeah, Gilbert gets it," he mumbled gratefully, and the albino just raised his eyebrows in mirth and glanced at the small group.

"Well then, let me offer you this! I have the perfect job for you," he grinned.

Alfred sat up fully, eyes narrowed in suspicion; he knew better than to trust the joker right away. "Oh yeah? Well… what's it involve?"

"A range of wonderful different skills put to the test," Gilbert boasted, hands splaying wide for effect. He paused, turning to Alfred. "Although, mostly your gag reflex…"

Alfred's jaw dropped, eyes flashing furiously. "YOU STUPID -" he cut his outburst off by banging the table with his fist, trying not to cause a scene. "And I thought you were actually trying to help me for once…" he hissed, and Gilbert giggled to himself.

"Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't resist - and your face!…" he chuckled, ignoring the furrowed brow of the young American as his expression darkened even further.

With a huff towards Gilbert, he turned his back on the albino as he faced his other friends.

Gilbert noted the anger of the boy, and hastily thought of something he could say to ease the tension. It came to him in a flash, and he turned to the three men excitedly. "Wait! I know you're mad at me now, but hear me out. Francis!" he turned to the Frenchman who raised a lazy, questioning eyebrow and looked away briefly to glance around the bar. He waved a hand for the albino to continue. Gilbert gave a grin in response. "Right, I may be wrong here but didn't you once say you knew someone who needed employees? An old friend of yours, some… rich dude or something who needed some workers? It was a while ago, but I swear you mentioned it!"

Francis, who had been previously been beginning to make eyes at a scantily-clad girl across the bar, turned to the German with a frown. He pondered Gilbert's question, and then nodded slowly in response. "Well, come to think of it I did. He needs a Butler, I believe, the man is an old friend of mine. A bloke known as Arthur Kirkland; he's a supposed Gentleman…" Francis paused as he noticed the colour drain from his Spanish friend's face. "Uh, Antonio? Are you okay, mon ami?"

Antonio, who was now shivering lightly in his seat, shook his head hastily. He made a slicing motion across his throat as he mouthed the 'Gentleman's' name, and Alfred blinked in confusion.

"Wait. Is this really the sort of job I'd be good at-" He was interrupted with a hasty laugh from Francis and a cry from Antonio, who had just been shoved off his bar stool by the Frenchman. Alfred glanced in concern at the Spaniard, who was currently glaring up at Francis and rubbing his behind. However, he missed the invisible zipper Francis made across his lips at Antonio with narrowed eyes, instead taking another chug of beer.

"Of course, mon cher! He is… good at paying, certainly, as he is rather rich, and the job of a Butler isn't that hard," Francis coughed, glancing anywhere but Alfred.

The American narrowed his eyes. "There's something you're not telling me…" he muttered suspiciously.

Gilbert laughed loudly in response. "Dude, you really think you have a lot of other choices right now?" he grinned, and Alfred shook his head in despair as he realised this really was the only option left for him.

Sighing, he ordered another drink. "Well, I don't trust you one bit," he muttered. Francis feigned hurt, and Alfred sighed. "But… I guess I'll just have to go with it," he concluded, ignoring the sneaky look shared between his three drinking partners. "But I have some questions to ask - one, how far away is it? Two, don't I need an interview? Three-" he was cut off again by Antonio.

"I think A-Arthur's pretty desperate for a Butler… he won't mind what you're like, I'm sure," Antonio mumbled, averting his gaze yet again.

"And it is, after all, only a mere two hours away from your own apartment - you can send the money you earn back to the darling Mathieu in order to release yourself from his debt!" Francis encouraged optimistically, with enthusiastic nods from the other two.

Alfred nodded decisively. "Okay, I'll do it," he agreed reluctantly, despite the tickling sense of foreboding.

Francis grinned from ear to ear. "Idéal!" he intoned brightly. "I'll ring him up as soon as I get home. He'll take you on, I'm sure; the fool is so desperate! Will you be ready to leave as soon as possible?"

"Well, yeah," Alfred sighed. "Tomorrow I'll be getting kicked out of the hotel - so I'll go then. But I'll need double the money for the taxi ride. I kind of… didn't pay them last time."

Gilbert groaned, but agreed to pay for the taxi as an apology for his earlier trickery. The three drank more and more after that, and when Alfred, renowned for holding his liquor, started to feel tipsy, he said his good-nights to the unconventional trio. Gilbert agreed to order a taxi for him first thing, turning to his friends as Alfred reached for his belongings.

While Alfred was getting his coat on, the trio of friends consulted each other in hushed voices.

"Francis, are you sure this is a good idea? You know Arthur… he'll destroy Alfred's confidence. He's a vicious madman! And I should know," Antonio whimpered, wishing he could warn Alfred of the dangers of that man.

Francis just sighed. "I think you're being a little too over-dramatic. He's really not that bad… and Alfred is très confident. I'm sure he'll survive," he commented, as Gilbert snorted in disbelief.

"Guys, guys. I haven't ever even met the dude, unlike you two, but I have heard some pretty crazy shit about him. Take, for instance," the albino smirked, "The rumour that he punched his cook in the face for insulting his cooking?"

The trio winced slightly, but Francis then shrugged.

"It is only a rumour. And if not, then let Alfred get hit in the face. He has never experienced proper pain, besides the break up of his parents when he was very young, and I think he's forgotten how to… not be a spoilt brat, if I may be so honest," he said simply, earning reluctant nods from his two friends.

"Then it's settled," Antonio whispered. "We won't tell Alfred anything about -"

"Tell me about what?"

The three stiffened and turned around slowly.

"About how… stupid your face is," Gilbert growled childishly. Alfred's eyes filled with drunken hurt, and he stumbled backwards in his tipsy state.

"F-fine then! I'll just go an' get that job, see if I care! And… and I'll make all the maids fall in luuurve with me too!" he slurred, huffing at them angrily. They shared a guilty look, but said nothing more.

The four then went their separate ways, with Alfred retreating abstractedly to the hotel and collapsing on the cheap sheets of his grim bed without a second's hesitation, falling fast asleep to only slip into a dream. He dreamed of himself in a Butler's suit, patterned like the American flag whilst skillfully serving scantily-clad mistresses… and masters.

And thus Alfred woke up on the Monday morning with vivid thoughts of sexy Gentleman lingering in his mind.


Ah... well, I hope that chapter was satisfactory. The story will pick up around chapter 4/5, so don't worry if you're fairly bored so far. Still, I hope you enjoyed it, and I would be delighted if you were to leave a review, fave, etc. I'll update soon as I can! ヽ(´ ▽ ` )ノ