Chapter 3

Arthur was stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of his name. He looked ahead, and right there, between the bodies of dancers on the floor and the mind-numbing light show, stood Alfred F. Jones. Confused blue eyes met startled green, and neither of them could move; they were frozen in the midst of time, unable to part away from the other's gaze.

In the midst of the surprise, the paralysis, one thought managed to break through Arthur's mind.

What the bloody hell is Alfred doing here?

The American was the first to break from the trance. He took a hesitant step forward, dodged an elbow from a random dancer, then took another step. "Arthur?" he repeated again, "Arthur, is that you?"

Arthur thought his best chance was to simply run off and deny any accusations later, but his natural stubbornness made that option practically impossible. Besides, Nine Lives was his. He wasn't about to let some American kid take that away from him.

So instead of ignoring him, Arthur raised his chin and glared at Alfred. "Jones," he said, making sure to keep his tone decisively neutral.

"Damn, man, it is you!" Alfred laughed awkwardly and came to a stop right in front of the Briton. "I almost didn't recognize you, with the singing and those punk clothes and…"

Alfred trailed off, and Arthur could practically see the gears in his brain grinding as he came to a painfully obvious realization. "..Wait," he said, eyes narrowing. "What are you even doing here, Arthur?"

Arthur scoffed. "Why should I tell you that?"

A look of frustration wormed its way onto Alfred's face. "Um, because I could get you reported? Because the principal would just love hearing that his star student is hanging out at a night club?"

Arthur stared for a moment before snickering. "What?" Alfred asked, looking offended. "What's so funny about that?"

"You," Arthur said between chuckles, "are truly quite daft, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?!"

"You're out clubbing too, genius."

Alfred simply stared at him.

Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes. "Meaning, I'm certain your coach will not tolerate his star player spending time here any more than the principal would approve of my being here."

Alfred at least had the common decency to look sheepish. "O-Oh. Yeah. I guess that's true."

"Oh? Arthur, you didn't tell me you invited a friend!"

Arthur groaned loudly as Francis squeezed past him. He stopped and took a long, hard look at Alfred, before humming his approval. "An attractive friend, at that. Tell me, Alfred, are you two lovers?"

That directness was something that Arthur should have seen coming, considering who he was talking to, but it still caught him completely off guard. He felt his entire face flush red, and he gawked openly at Francis as Alfred tried to respond.

"Uh, dude, what are you talking about? And how do you know who I am?"

Francis offered up a smirk and a wink, and Arthur almost punched him in the face. "Everyone knows who you are, non? At least, those of us who pay attention do..."

"Francis, you 'pay attention' to everyone, don't you?" Antonio piped up, slapping Francis's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Hola, Alfred! I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and it's nice to meet you! Don't worry too much about Francis here; he stalks almost everyone at school."

Arthur was at a loss of words (really; don't worry about a not-so-secretive stalker?) but Alfred wasn't nearly so abashed. "Oh! Hi, dude! Nice to meet ya!" He stuck out a hand, and Antonio grabbed it, both of them shaking each other's eagerly.

Arthur finally felt his voice come back to him, and he put on a scowl and raised his chin. "Well, while you pansies get acquainted with one another, I'm going to get myself a drink. Alfred," Arthur jerkily nodded his farewell before stalking over to the bar where Carlos was already pouring drinks.

Not three seconds later did Gilbert plop down beside him, looking rather cocky as always. The two of them clinked their cups together with a grin, then downed their shots. Francis and Antonio eventually made their way over and joined them, looking pleased. Arthur was just about to ask why, when-

"Hey, mind if I join you guys?"

Francis and Antonio giggled – giggled – as Arthur spun around to face Alfred, standing there casually, his hands in his pockets. Arthur was torn between shooing him away and glaring at him until his eyes gave out. Unfortunately, he was not given the chance to do either - Francis gave him an excited nod and scooted over a seat, and Alfred sat down right beside Arthur and blimey he was going to kill that Frenchman.

Suddenly, the drink in Arthur's hands seemed a whole lot heavier. He knew how he was when he drank too much. He'd even seen a video of himself (courtesy of Antonio) and while that wasn't enough to deter him, he wasn't sure if he should allow himself to get that way in front of Alfred. So he decided to distract himself by doing one of the things he hated most.

Making conversation.

With a gulp, Arthur turned towards Alfred. "So. Um. Alfred."

Well that turned out about as awkward as he felt.

Alfred didn't seem to notice, however, instead flashing his winning smile. "Yeah, Artie?"

"It's Arthur, you git." He scowled. "And anyway, I was just wondering something."

"You're wondering what I'm doing here, right?" Alfred laughed.

So the bloke wasn't as daft as he seemed. "Quite so," Arthur replied, trying not to seem all that intrigued. The truth was, however, that he was rather interested indeed, especially curious as to what the school's top jock had to come to a place like this for. Was he meeting someone? Was he secretly a devilish kid who ate up the spotlight anywhere he could? …Was he just simply here to see what it was like?

Alfred sat there, watching Arthur with that lopsided smile of his, but something seemed off. Arthur couldn't place what it was. "It's not too exciting," he claimed. He seemed distant. "I just kinda wanted to get away for a bit, you know? So I tried here. I heard about this place from one of my friends, and it really lives up to its reputation."

With that, Alfred took a long gulp of his drink. Arthur quickly tore his gaze away from Alfred's face. Which left him back to staring at his own cup of alcohol.

Ah, what the hell.

With a shrug, he downed the thing in one long gulp, and then called to Carlos for more.

When Arthur drearily came to this time, he was pleased to realize that he was not on the floor. He didn't know where he was, but it sure wasn't the floor. It was far too comfortable for that.

He carefully opened his eyes to see the stark white ceiling of Francis's apartment staring back at him. Arthur blinked painfully, trying to get his mind clear enough to at least manage to roll over. After fighting to get himself up and moving, he hesitantly pulled out his phone.

3:04, and his mum had not called him yet. He let out a sigh of relief. That was good. That was very, very good. With that stress out of the way, he allowed himself to begin trying to recall what had happened the night before. He didn't often remember what happened on the band's drinking nights, but sometimes, after thinking about it for a little while, he'd recall bits and pieces. Right now, he remembered the song, and Alfred, and…

And Alfred. Alfred had been there, he'd seen him, he'd…drank with him? It was really confusing, but he had definitely been there. Hopefully Arthur hadn't said anything too embarrassing. He had found out that he was prone to being too…open when he got drunk. There was very little his bandmates didn't know about him by now. If he said something embarrassing to Alfred of all people…

The last thing he needed was some stranger knowing more details about his private life than they already did.

Nobody needed to know anything. Especially not Alfred, who would likely open his big mouth and gossip about him at school or something like that.

"Yo, Artie!"

…Well, speak of the devil.

Arthur looked up and cringed upon seeing an exceptionally cheerful Alfred standing in the doorway to the kitchen, peering in at him. He groaned.

"Hey, so Francis and the others went out to get food and stuff a little while ago, so they left me here to babysit, yeah?"

Arthur gave an affronted snort. "I don't need to be bloody taken care of. Why are you here, anyway?"

Alfred grinned and walked in the room, plopping down on the floor next to the couch Arthur was laying on. "I drove you guys home last night! I didn't know all four of you lived in the same house! Of course, I didn't know that you were in a band with those guys either, but you get the idea!"

"Yes, we live together. Sort of. Toni and Gil usually come and go as they please, and I only stay for the weekends." Arthur paused. "And how did you know where Francis lived?"

Alfred grinned. "Magic," he said confidently.

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Alright, alright, fine. The Frenchie was a heckuva lot more sober than the rest of you. He just told me how to get here."

"Right, fine. Whatever." Arthur fell into momentary silence, then worked up the courage to ask what had happened last night.

"You and Gilbert got into a fight or something."

Arthur deadpanned. Had he heard that right? "…What?"

Alfred nodded, unperturbed. "Yup. You punched him in the nose after he shoved you off of your seat. I think you were fighting over whether birds or bunnies were better or something. It was really weird."

Arthur found he didn't have much to say to that statement, so he remained quiet. Eventually, he stood up, and (after taking a moment to steady himself on his feet) started off towards the kitchen. Alfred watched him as he walked, but Arthur didn't particularly care. He just wanted to grab something to eat to satisfy his slightly nauseous stomach. He rolled his shoulder just as he was entering the doorway, working out the kink that had worsened overnight.

"Dude, are you sure you're okay?" Alfred spoke up, the concern evident in his voice.

Arthur didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed. He chose to be neither.

"I'm quite alright. I just tweaked it earlier this week. No big deal."

Thankfully, Alfred seemed to accept this answer, and he let the subject drop. Arthur disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of kiwi. Alfred seemed to be pondering something, and his brow was furrowed deeply in thought. When Arthur came back, he looked up, and asked, "So, if you're such a perfect student and all, what compelled you to play in a band? At Nine Lives?"

Arthur huffed. Alfred sure could be blunt when he wanted to be. "I like doing it. It's a great hobby."

Alfred laughed. "Sorry, dude, but a hobby is, like, knitting. Even if this band was only something you liked to do every now and then, there are better places to play than at a club. With your level of skill, I'm sure you could have figured something out."

…Why wasn't Alfred daft when he bloody needed to be?

"If you're so intelligent, Alfred," Arthur replied sarcastically, "then why are you seemingly unable to apply yourself in school? I've seen your work. It's not that impressive for someone with such great deduction skills."

Alfred's confidence faltered slightly, but he quickly got over it. "School's a drag, dude. I have better things to be worrying about. Besides, my grades are fine!"

"Alfred, Cs and Ds are not that fine."

"Hey, I had a B in there!" Alfred pouted, crossing his arms with a huff. "And besides, this conversation isn't about me, it's about you! If you were a year younger I totally wouldn't be voting you in for President next year."

"Not my problem," Arthur replied matter-of-factly.

Alfred had opened his mouth to speak when suddenly Gilbert came stumbling into the room from outside. He looked terrible, with bags under his eyes and disheveled hair, but he still wore his signature sneer with pride. In his arms was a bag full of fruit and some water bottles, both of which he rarely ever consumed. Arthur was about to question him when Antonio and Francis followed in behind him, closing the apartment door. They too held groceries in their arms as they made their way to the kitchen, casting curious glances towards the two men who were sitting across from each other.

Arthur almost choked on his kiwi when Francis winked at him. He would have to make a point to set the Frenchman's facts straight before he started spouting random nonsense later.

"Hola, amigos! We've brought back some food!"

Arthur winced at the volume of Antonio's voice, but it only got worse when Alfred spoke up again. "Dude, awesome! I was really hungry! Did you get any hamburgers by any chance? Because I'd totally kill for a hamburger right about now!"

"Shut up, shut up!" Arthur hissed under his breath. Alfred glanced at him curiously.

"Dude, what's the – oh. Right. Drunkards."

"Alfred, thank you for your time, but I do think you should be leaving now."

"But the food-"

"Go on. Go. Out with you." Arthur made a shooing motion with his hand as he signaled pointedly to the door.

Reluctantly, Alfred did as he was told.

"Merci, Alfred! Thank you for taking care of our youngest!" Francis called from the kitchen.

Arthur was about to retort, but Alfred simply smiled and waved goodbye before walking out the door.

While that last reaction seemed a little strange, Arthur didn't dwell on it. He had a few things he still had to sort out with Francis, and he needed to wait out this hangover, but otherwise, he planned on enjoying a nice long weekend in the safety of this apartment.


And here we are with chapter three!

I just wanted to take a second to thank everyone who is reading this story so far. I've never had so many followers within such a short time period, it really means a lot to me!

And extra special thanks to my reviewers, whose words are very inspirational! I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!

Hetalia belongs to Himaruya, not me.