A/N- sonnuva bitch. you people...you people! ya wanna know what you all did? effin' broke my gmail. yep. too much crap from reviews/favs/alerts and shit that all notifications for this story have like three days of lag in them. i guess i should say thank you. but also fuck you. for your wonderful, unintentional act of douchery. xD seriously. every day. more reviews. more lag in my email. T_T but hey, longer update makes you happy? here you go. 4k+ words. not my usual 7k+ stuff but dgm req's more detail for some reason. enjoy.

to anyone who guessed sealand/peter as the bushy brow kid at the end, kudos, kiddos. he'll be a reacurring character in this fic. nearly every aph char i introduce will be. i'm capable of juggling a lot more than what i've put out so far, so things are just gonna keep getting better from here on out. (i really didn't even like ch2 that much...it didn't meet some of my standards. XDD)

last chapter's title was Om Nashi Me by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. that chappy had a buncha matty in it for some reason. xD alfred's such a pesty dude cobalt figures matthew's gotta have some kind of chill mantra or song playing up in his noggin. most of the song's a kickass instrumental...i recommend it when you feel you're gonna light a fuse. ;D

Disclaimer- all rights and stuff go to himaruya-sama, kk? oh and thanks for telling me he's okay. very good to know. ^^

Chapter Three

Shut Up and Let Me Go

"Eurgh. Good grief, Arthur. You are such a dirty slut." the Frenchman drawled in his thick accent. Arthur pupils grew enlarged and he made a pass at the blond man, who grinned mischievously as he stepped back a bit to avoid the Brit's flailing fists. Peter sighed, watching the two 'friends' continue to taunt each other from the opposite sides of the table. The young boy poked at a brussel sprout disinterestedly. Blegh. Why was Iggy-jerk always trying to force gross veggies like these on him? Like his own God-awful cooking wasn't abuse to his taste buds enough?

"What? What was that, you flaming hypocrite?" Arthur shouted, nearly toppling over his glass of half-drunken ice tea. "Who are you to call me a slut when you go around chasing anything that wears a skirt and has breasts?" Francis' eye twitched at that comment. He did not particularly like it when people insulted the lovely ladies he fell for. Even if there were a great deal of them over a short amount of time.

"At least I do not go around sucking the faces off of people I do not even know- ...Arthur." Francis said, eying the Brit with great disdain.

"For the last time, frog. That crazy yank was the one who kissed me, alright? I wanted no part in it!" Arthur barked back, shoving a spoonful of cheesy potatoes into his mouth, blushing just the tiniest bit at the erm, unpleasant memory. Peter smirked when he saw his older brother's face color lightly.

"Yeah, right, Iggy-jerk. I saw how you were just writhing that loon's embrace. You so liked it." Peter said, grinning devilishly at Arthur's angry red face. The older brit was half-embarrassed to death and half-choking on his cheesy potatoes. Mostly the latter, but yeah. Peter then turned to the Frenchman to his left. "Y'know I even saw a bit of tongue in that nasty snog session? I'm scarred, I tell you. Effing scarred." Francis laughed heartily at the younger boy's words, giving him a good pat on the shoulder.

The reason Arthur and Peter were even dining with Francis was because after the 'incident' with the American and Arthur, Peter had declared that his pupils had been absolutely burned out of their sockets at the sheer homo-ness he'd just witnessed. The only way Arthur could get his younger brother to shut the hell up about his 'utterly unabashed gayness' was by taking him out to dinner. Arthur being Arthur, agreed to do so but lacked the proper ackers (being a college student was a difficult existence) so he pulled some favors from a 'retarded-as-fuck French asshat' and got said asshat to pay for the meal. Yeah.

"Mm. See? Your brother is a slut, just as I said. A dirty, dirty slut with freakish eyebrows." Francis smiled into his wineglass as he raised it to his lips. Peter smiled as well and took another bite of his Mac n' Cheese.

"Hey, Francis?"

"Hmm?" Francis hummed, placing the empty glass back onto the table.

"I get that Iggy-jerk's a total gaylord and stuff. But why do you keep calling him a 'slut'?" Peter asked, glancing at Arthur who was still over at his end of the table, his face red and coughing up a storm of cheesy potato.

"Because he is a slut." Francis replied matter-of-factly. Peter blinked at the older man.

"What's a 'slut'?" Peter asked innocently. Francis was silent for a moment before turning the corners of his lips into a crooked smile.

Eyes flashing and creeper grin on full blast, Francis said, "A slut, my dear boy, is a person who 'gets around' with their goosey all loosey-like. Ah, think of those girls you see on Jersey Shore with their wide-set va-" Arthur, now finished hocking up the rest of the killer potatoes (and a portion of his lung), promptly interrupted the Frenchman.

"Francis, speak another word and I swear to God, I will break a leg off my chair and jam it right up your arsehole." Arthur said, his voice dripping with venom. Francis lazily complied with the Brit's (empty) threat.

"Mon dieu, even your threats are homosexual." Francis noted dryly. Arthur was busy contemplating how much he'd have to pay for the glass platter he so dearly wanted to smash over Francis' head. In the end, Arthur's cheapness won out so the restaurant got to keep their platter and Francis, his head. Lucky bastard.

"Haha, it's fine, Iggy-jerk. I know exactly what Francis was gonna say!" Peter said, smiling. Arthur looked thoroughly horrified while Francis was quite amused.

"You...you do?" Arthur asked brokenly. Peter nodded happily. Arthur felt like shriveling up and dying right there. He was a failure of a brother...and gay Americans were attracted to him. God, there was nothing to live for.

"Yeah! He's talking about those girls with their wide-set vans that take up all the space on the roads. Yeah, they're such freaking sluts." Peter said, nodding his head a bit. Arthur's face was puckered shut as he tried to restrain himself from either a.) bursting out laughing or b.) smashing his head into the table. Francis choose the former and was wheezing from laughing too hard.

"Ohh! Ohh! Hahaha! Arthur, your brother is simply amazing! Haha! How on earth he could possibly be related to you is a mystery!" Francis croaked in between bursts of laughter. Arthur looked at Frenchman with reproach. Perhaps he could dip into his college fund and bust Francis' head with a platter. Just maybe. Peter stared at the two grown men strangely, not completely understanding why they were acting like such buffoons.

"Oh, dude. I also hate it when those girls try and squeeze their big, fat vans under the bridge. Like, you'd think it'd be too big but somehow those sluts manage to find a way and force their way through. Seriously. Would it kill a slut to think before they do that kinda crap?" Peter said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. At this Arthur couldn't help but to break out in laughter, joining Francis in his crazy rampant cackling. Peter turned red in the face, figuring that Arthur and Francis were laughing at him and not the unintentional buttsex metaphor he'd made.

"Will you two idiots shut the hell up?" Peter snapped, a noticeable tick mark situating just above his thick eyebrow.

Later...(After Arthur and Francis paid property damage charges to the restaurant)

Francis sighed deeply, his hand patting the pocket where he kept his (now slightly more empty) wallet. "Ahh...it seems every time I go somewhere with you my wallet always feels so light afterwards. How do you manage it, Arthur?" The Brit paid no attention to the man's complaint.

"Belt up." he said back, busy trying to hail a taxi but to no avail. Frikkin' New York City, man.

Peter watched his older brother repeatedly wave his arms about for a taxi to notice him. Unfortunately all the taxicab drivers paid no attention to the now pissed Brit. The younger boy sighed to himself at Arthur's incompetence. You'd think after four years of living in the Big Apple, he'd easily be able to get a taxi. Arthur cursed loudly when the sixth cab sped past him, ignoring him like he wasn't even there. Finally Peter motioned to his brother to stop while he placed both his thumb and index finger into his mouth and blew a shrewd whistle. Immediately two taxis stomped on their brakes in front of the younger Brit. Peter gave Arthur a friendly grin. To which Arthur simply rolled his eyes at. Pfft. Whatever.

First Arthur climbed into the yellow car with Peter following suit, finally Francis came in and sat on the right. As the car started driving, Peter quickly began to doze off since it was well into the night by now. The younger boy snuggled up against his brother, using Arthur's arm as a pillow. Once Peter had fallen asleep, Francis began to start a conversation again.

"So...how was it?" he asked.

Arthur assumed the Frenchman was speaking to him so he blandly replied, "How was what?"

"Your serendipitous lip lock with that peculiar American, of course." Arthur frowned. Francis went on. "I bet you really did like it."

"As much as one would like to be hung by their toenails, git." Arthur bit back, glaring into his window. Arthur heard Francis chuckle lowly.

"Liar. You liked it, didn't you?" Francis taunted. Arthur held back the sudden urge to throw Francis out of the car. Arthur exhaled slowly. Easy, lad, easy.

"Yes, I liked it, Francis." Arthur said monotonously. Francis smirked but Arthur continued on. "I like it so much that I moment the yank let me go, I hit him in the face. Hard."

Francis cocked a brow disbelievingly. "You punched him? Haha. Ever the pissy one aren't you." Arthur flipped him off.

XDXDXD

"Go...go...go. YES! AW, YEAH, BITCH! Another fuckin' killstreak! Suck on that, Kiku!" Alfred cried, shaking his controller at the air in victory. The Japanese boy he was referring to grunted in response.

"I'd rather not, Alfred. Besides, I don't care for such a dumb and barbaric game." Kiku replied, reaching for his can of Pepsi while Alfred did his signature 'In-Your-Face-Bitch' dance. Kiku groaned as he watched the embarrassing choreography in Alfred's moves. Holy shit, was that The Running Man?

"Haha, you're just saying that 'cause you suck hairy man balls at Black Ops." Kiku rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Alfred hugged his Xbox controller close to his heart.

"Dude, I love this game so much. I own at it. I COD, I COD so hard." Alfred said as he expressed his love and affection for the game controller. Kiku frowned at the strange sight. Were all Americans this weird about this game?"

Tonight was Alfred and Kiku's weekly game night, in which Alfred would go over to Kiku's house (or vice versa) and go into the smaller hours playing video games nonstop. It was ritual for the two school friends and they'd been doing it ever since Alfred managed to get the normally very shy and reserved boy to go off on him at school. They had a verbal fight and then somehow the two patched things up and became the best of friends. Nowadays, Kiku and Alfred were more busy and it was harder to get together for some quality bro-time but they still managed to make game night happen.

This night had been Alfred's turn to pick the game, so of course his choice had to be Call of Duty. Specifically Black Ops. To Alfred, and almost every other teenage boy in the US, the game was as preeminent as the Holy Bible. Alfred played the game twenty-four-seven. He had Prestige and a bunch of other crazyass honors for the game. In short, Alfred was a COD geek.

Kiku tossed his controller onto the floor in defeat. "Ugh. I'm done with this. Alfred, I challenge you to a round of DDR." Alfred looked at him like he'd just swallowed his own foot.

"Uhh, like hell if I'm playing your Asian ass on Dance Dance Revolution. That's like challenging a Marine to a fist fight. Zero percent survival rate, man." Alfred said, stuffing some popcorn into his mouth as he spoke. Kiku crossed his arms defiantly.

"Exactly. Now roll out the mats. I'm gonna go get some more food since your big mouth ate it all." Kiku made his way towards the kitchen. Alfred sighed sadly.

"Ughh. Fiiiiiiiinnnne." he whined. "Oh, hey, can you get something softer to eat? My jaw still hurts." Alfred later added.

"Sure." Kiku replied, grabbing some things from the fridge. "Is it from that one guy that punched you earlier?"

"Hey! He's not just any guy, Kiku! His name is Arthur Kirkland and he's the mofo love of my life, mkay? But, yes. It is." Alfred admitted, rubbing his sore cheek gingerly. For such a cute, sexy, fragile sex god of a guy, Arthur sure did punch like an MMA fighter. Alfred still couldn't believe that Arthur had done that to him. Didn't he feel the electric-hot passion in their kiss? Ugh. Perhaps not. Maybe he would have felt it if Arthur had just let Alfred get some goddamn tongue action in. No need to go all Great Wall of China on him, jeez.

Alfred clutched at his heart and mock-sobbed his eyes out. "Ohh, Arthur...WHY YA DO THIS TO MEH?" he cried out. A rumbling sound came from upstairs and down the steps came Kiku's cousin, Im Yong Soo. Who was apparently very pissed off. Yong Soo glared daggers at Alfred.

"Hey! Shikaro, dumbass! I'm in a friggin' intense game of Starcraft upstairs and your gayass whining is effin' annoying!" Yong Soo barked. "So help me, if I lose to those Terran noobs, I'ma go kamikaze on your ass."

Alfred grinned widely. "Ahaha. You're so anal about your Starcraft, Yong Soo.." Yong Soo looked highly offended...because he was.

"It is the national sport of the great country of South Korea. Don't disrespect it." the proud Korean replied haughtily. Just then Kiku walked back into the living room, carrying two bowls of ice cream sundae. He handed one bowl to Alfred before setting his down on the table and turning to face Yong Soo.

"Sorry, Yong Soo, Alfred won't bother you anymore. I'll make sure he's more quiet from now on." Kiku said. "And please don't use my country's past in your threats." Yong Soo's ticked expression immediately softened into a silly smile.

"I apologize, Kiku. I didn't mean it, you know I love you. And your tits." Kiku's calm smile slightly faltered. Yong Soo shot a glance at Alfred before turning around. "'Kay then, I'm off to whip some noob ass. Bye, guys."

As he was about to rush up the stairs, Yong Soo seemed to remember something. "Oh, wait. Hey, Kiku, do you know when Yao will be home? I'm freaking starved." Kiku shrugged as he switched the game disks in the Xbox 360.

"Dunno. He said he'd be back from work by eleven but he could be late." Kiku pressed the start button. "If you're that hungry, you can go and make something to eat in the kitchen. There's a bunch of stuff in there." he added.

"Ehh, I'm good. Just wondering is all. See ya." Yong Soo said as he ran up the stairs. Alfred shook his head as Kiku's (eccentric) cousin left.

"Dude. Your cousin's a space case. Legit." Kiku grunted.

"I know." Kiku said, smiling as he finally got Dance Dance Revolution: Universe 2 set up. "Alright, it's all ready. You pick the first song, Alfred." Alfred pouted, stepping onto the soft mat, fully aware of the fate that awaited him.

Later...(After Alfred got his ass handed to him seventeen songs in a row)

Alfred was just about ready to pass out onto the couch. His legs felt like they were made of jelly. He'd tried to keep up with Kiku, but dammit the Japanese boy was fuckin' beast at DDR. Now the word 'Marvelous' would forever remind Alfred at his fail attempt at the game. Great.

Kiku stood on his dance mat, not looking the least bit tired at all. He stared at his American friend sadly.

"Oh come on, Alfred. Surely you have more fight in you than that." he teased. Alfred hmph'd back at him.

"I'm beat, dude. I can't even feel my legs." he said, plopping down on the sofa behind him. Kiku followed Alfred's example, albeit more gracefully than just falling onto the furniture like a dropped sack of potatoes. Alfred looked deep in thought. "Besides...I can't freaking get Arthur out of my head. Aw, why did he hafta fuckin' reject me like that? Why, Kiku, why?" Alfred whined, hugging one of Yao's panda-shaped cushions tightly. Kiku sighed. Since when did he become a gay love doctor?

"I don't know, Alfred. Maybe you came on too strong, kissing him out of the blue like that. Most people get a little freaked out when that happens." Kiku replied. Alfred sniffed, rubbing at his nose with his index finger.

"But, dude, you don't understand. We're frikkin' meant for each other. I can feel it in my balls." Kiku blinked. Alright...then.

"Um..okay then. Uh, but, you're the only one who thinks that, Alfred. Does Arthur feel the same?" Now it was Alfred's turn to blink. He touched his bruised cheek. Ouch. It still hurt like a bitch.

"...I don't...think so..." Alfred murmured sadly. Kiku sighed softly and patted his friend on the back.

"Then maybe..." Kiku drawled off, letting Alfred fill in the rest of the sentence himself.

"Then maybe...I've just got to convince him to fall in love with me!" Alfred exclaimed.

...What.

Alfred jumped up from the sofa, freshly rejuvenated with new hope. "Yeah! That's it! I'll just show Arthur what a totally amazing and sexy hot guy I am, which shouldn't be too hard, and bada-bing! We fall in love and live happily ever after in a house on the prairie with a white picket fence and a dog named Lady Liberty. Hell yeah!" Kiku stood up as well.

"No, Alfred, I think you misunderstood..." he started to say before the American cut him off.

"Nope! I totally understand!" Alfred looked up into the sky (but as he was in a house, that sky was actually a ceiling). "YOU HEAR THAT, ARTHUR KIRKLAND? YOU'RE GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH ME IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" he declared. Another loud rattle was heard from upstairs.

"OH, GODDAMMIT! I DIED! ALFRED, GET YOUR BITCHASS OVER HERE!"

XDXDXD

Somewhere in a New York apartment complex, Arthur sat up in bed, his nose itching up a storm and shivers going up and down his body.

"Achoo!" he sneezed loudly. Arthur reached over for one of his embroidered handkerchiefs on his nightstand to wipe his nose with. "Blimey, I must be getting a cold or something.." he muttered before crawling back under his sheets.

So Arthur fell back to sleep, completely unaware that from this moment on, the courtship of Arthur Kirkland had officially begun.

A/N- any fans of jersey shore out there...i'm kindaaaa...a littttlleeeee...sorry. (not really, i mofo hate jersey shore with a passion) it's all in good fun so plz don't get your panties in a bunch over it, k? mm. cobalt's a slut too and has many guy friends. when black ops came out it was like the fuckin' second coming of jesus up in here. one of my close friend's fav saying during that time was "oh my god, jchoe, i COD. i COD so hard" i love the asian nations. probably coz i'm asian myself (chinese-korean ftw) and yes, the nat. sport of is starcraft. i even had someone come up to me and ask if i beast up at starcraft. i didn't even know what the fuck starcraft was at the time. lawl. fail. but i do now. don't play it, but it's a nice convo topic. yong soo...i hearts you! if he seems ooc atm it's coz he's playing starcraft. which everyone knows is serious business. *nod*

yes, that was SO a south park reference last time. actually a tvtropes one but whatevs. i can tell i have some cool south park fans out there if you were able to spot the underwear gnomes. ;D

term translation (my friend pointed out not everyone speaks like i do so here's clarification for shit)

shikaro- korean for shut up. (my cousin uses this frequently on me)

'beasting'- common term for being really good at something.

i COD so hard- i play call of duty shittons, etc. etc.

COD- call of duty. (dur dur...)

legit- seriously. (i personally don't use this one but my friends do and it sounds cool so yeah)

mon dieu- french for my god

who doesn't love peter shittons right now? c'mon be serious. he's legendary, no? hahah. okay, if you have any Q's, feel free to ask em in your reviews. this story is planned over to the tiniest detail. if there's a question that comes up that i DON'T have figured into the story, i'll PM you the answer and it'll be cool again. ;D also to the reviewer to offered to help cobalt w/the english slang. UHHH. HELL YEAHS, I'D LIKE SOME HELP! :DD coz most of the time i just wanna quit ruffling thru brit slang dict's on the comp and just have arthur say "fuck you" in response to everything. i'm a lazyass bitch. T_T

peace and love. *heart*

IF YOU READ, DROP A REVIEW PLZ! I WARMS MY ICY HEART~! FIFTEEN REVIEWS= UPDATE (b/c in the last chap, i had the req'd amount of reviews in less than an hour...there wasn't enuf time for me to write the next chapter! DD:) PLEASE REVIEW! EXPECT THE NEXT CHAP BY THE COMING WEDS, MAYBE SOONER. BETWEEN 3-7 PM EASTERN TIME! (since each review always demands update, i'll tell you when the update's coming)