A/N: This is a really shitty chapter and I'm really sorry.

I do these fanfictions to improve my writing. Yet, my writing seems to still be bullshit.

so, sorry bout that.

Warnings- Mentions of lady parts, BJs, and swearing.

Also super kawaii Artie.

He really was stupid.

Idiotic, even.

Believing Arthur - Arthur Kirkland - would forget about it. The Brit hadn't forgotten losing against him in chess, four years ago; he was terribly naïve to believe he would forget about an event that had happened a mere four hours before.

Yes, of course he was going to forget his nemesis finding his YouTube channel.

Francis Bonnefoy was an idiot, and that's how he found himself pinned against a locker, white-knuckled hands gripping his blazer.

"Jésus-Christ, ce qui la baise?!" The French student shouted, looking down at the Londoner clawing at his uniform. The Brit glared at him, his emerald eyes lighting up with jade flames, his pupils dilating.

"I've got a deal to make, Toad." Arthur ground out, still glaring into the eyes of the other.

Francis tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "And this deal would be...? What exactly?" The Parisian asked, grabbing Arthur's hands, to try and pry them from his clothes.

"You don't tell anyone about my YouTube channel, and I do whatever you want, for a week. But you don't tell Antonio; you don't tell Gilbert; you don't tell ANYONE. And if you do, I will personally get Ivan to smash your skull with a lead pipe. Are we clear?" Arthur asked, standing on the balls of his feet to look Francis directly in the eye.

The French teen pondered over the other, looking around, though not really seeing. He bit his lip, wondering whether or not he would take up the offer. Maybe he could-

Bingo.

"No." Francis smiled.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Arthur hissed.

"I do not expect that offer... Although." He commented, before smiling at the English student, rather flirtatiously. "If you did what I wanted for a month, then, sûr."

Arthur's eyes widened, before he looked down at his feet, letting go of Francis and crossing his arms. "... Two weeks."

"A month."

"Two weeks."

"A month, no less."

"Two weeks, that's as high as I'm goin'!"

"Hm... Non."

"Ugh! Fine... Three weeks."

"... Hm. You know what? Sure. Three weeks it is, mon lapin."

"It starts Monday. And I'm not a goddamn rabbit..."

The two shook hands, standing in front of each other until a - noticeably fake - cough came from behind them. Arthur turned, finding Alfred stood behind them, arms crossed. "Dude, you're kind of on my locker." He snorted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, before pushing Francis out of the way - almost knocking him over, causing Alfred to suppress a chuckle - and checking the number of the locker. Seeing '19' above the lock, he turned to Alfred. "Sorry 'bout that."

Alfred snorted, taking his keys out of his pocket. "No prob', dude." The American commented, fitting his key in the lock. "What was that about anyway?" He asked, his back to both blonds. Arthur and Francis shared a look, before Arthur started pushing the Parisian out of the area, starting down the hall.

"Just settling an argument!" Arthur yelled, waving at Alfred and dragging Francis away. Francis raised an eyebrow, as the the position was rather awkward, as the French teen was taller.

"This is ridiculous. Seriously, what the fuck are you doing? I'm taller than you." Francis commented, digging his heels into the ground, drawing the Briton to a halt.

"Shut up. If I hadn't, you would have blurted the whole thing to Alfred - probably including the facts about my channel," Francis couldn't deny that. "Plus, you are not taller than me!"

Francis looked at the other incredulously. "Arthur, I am clearly taller than you."

"No you're not; we're both 68.9 inches!"

A loud cackle came from besides the two, "Yeah? Well I'm five metres!"

Arthur deadpanned, turning towards the German. "Fuck off." He commented. Gilbert let out his rather strange laugh again, placing his hands on his hips.

"What are you arguing about anyway?" He asked, placing his elbow on Francis's shoulder, tilting his head. Arthur sighed, flicking his head to get his hair out of his eyes, only for it to fall back into place.

"This git is saying he's taller than me." Arthur said, placing his weight on one leg, and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's because I am!" Francis said, pouting. Gilbert stepped away from the blonds.

"Back to back."

The others complied, standing with their backs together. Gilbert placing his hand on Francis's head, before sliding it off, keeping it at the same height. When his place hand got to Arthur, only a few strands of hair touched his palm. "Sorry, Art, he's taller." The German said, smirking.

"What!? No he's not!" The other said, kneeling on the floor and lifting up Francis's foot, causing the French to loose his balance momentarily.

"What are you doing!?"

"Checking you're not wearing heels!"

Gilbert chortled, placing a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. "Erm... Iggy?"

"What? ... And don't call me that."

"Er... Well..." Gilbert kicked his lips, his eyes squinting. "I wouldn't kneel infront of him if I were you. It looks really weird from here." He said, letting loose a short cackle.

Francis caught on immediately, darting away from the shorter. "Gilbert! Fucking hell, no!" Francis groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I really hate you sometimes."

"Love you too, Franny."

Arthur still hadn't caught on. He stood, staring at Gilbert in confusion. "I don't get it." He commented, frowning.

"You know... You were kneeling in front of a boy, your face near there." Gilbert hinted, tilting his head every time he exaggerated a word. Arthur still wore his bewildered expression.

"... I still don't get it!"

"... Seriously?" Gilbert asked, walking towards the Brit. Arthur nodded, still in thought. Gilbert smiled, hugging Arthur's shoulders. "Ach mein Gott! Sie sind so süß!" He all but yelled, picking up the blond and hugging him to his chest.

"Fucking hell, Gil! Put me down! You absolute twat!" The shorter squealed, thrashing in the grip. Gilbert put him down, instead choosing to pat his head.

"Do you even know what a twat is?" Gilbert asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Gilbert!" Francis scolded, walking back towards the two. "He is too innocent for this!" He stated, placing his hands over the younger's ears.

"GET OFF!" Arthur yelled, aiming his elbow at the French teen's shoulder.

'RING!

RING!

RING!'

"Saved by the bell." Gilbert sniffed. "Well, siehe ya!" He yelled, walking away.

"Bye, chienne!" Francis yelled, turning away from Arthur. "Ã plus tard, Arthur!"

"Hopefully not." Arthur ground out, rolling his eyes. He stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, heading towards the Science block.

Francis shook his head, heading on towards his form room, all the while pondering about the newly made deal.

'I wonder what I could make him do...'

Continuing on his way, he gazed around, looking around for someone to go to form with. Instead he found a poster for the Spring Disco.

'Bingo.'

A/N: Told you it was shit.

Translations-

Jésus-Christ, ce qui la baise - Jesus Christ, what the hell (French)

Sûr - Sure (French)

Mon lapin - If you don't know, get out

Ach mein Gott! Sie sind so süß - Oh my God! You're so cute! (German)