By the fourth day of AP Chemistry, Alfred knew that there wasn't much good to be said about the class. It was boring, it was difficult, and it moved way too fast for any sane person to learn anything (he was struggling to even understand what was meant to be review from last year). But, barring everything else, it seemed he could count on enjoying a few minutes of an empty classroom before everyone else entered.

At least, he had presumed as much until he came face-to-face to a closed and locked classroom door on the first Friday of the school year.

He stared in wonder at the large oak door, reaching out and jiggling the knob as if it would magically open (third time's the charm, right?). It simply stared back as if mocking him, and he glared at it. Another small push at the door yielded no results, and Alfred slumped against the wall in defeat. There was no use wasting his strength on the obviously locked door, and unless he wanted to get expelled for damaging school property, he thought it best to just leave it be.

"What on earth are you doing?" A voice asked, and Alfred didn't even have to look over to know it was Arthur.

"Enjoying the warm glow of florescent school lights. I figure if I stand here long enough I could get a tan." Alfred replied sarcastically, not in the mood to deal with Arthur's particular brand of condescending insults right that moment. Arthur himself rolled his eyes, shifting his books to his left hand so that he could wave him away with his right.

"Would you mind doing it somewhere less…essential?" He returned, his tone biting, "Because frankly your fat is blocking my path into the classroom."

Alfred pouted, crossing his arms. "I'm not fat."

Arthur scoffed, his gaze pointedly sticking to Alfred's middle section. "Call it whatever you like, but it's currently stopping me from entering through the door, and I'd greatly appreciate it if you could move."

At this point, Alfred was so irritated by Arthur's derogatory speech that he decided to forego the fact that the door was locked entirely and focus on the argument that they were having instead. It wasn't difficult for him to adjust his hold on his own stack of books and slowly, petulantly, move entirely in front of the door.

"There you go!" He said, pleased with himself, "I moved just for you! I'm glad we're such good friends, Artie, that we can share this kind of special bond."

Arthur looked at him with disgust written plainly on his face. "Excuse me?" He uttered, more in defiance than actual surprise.

"It's alright, you don't have to be shy." Alfred said in a sickeningly sweet tone, "You can feel free to admit that the reason you keep insulting me is because you think I'm super hot and attractive."

Arthur actually looked genuinely sick at this, completely repulsed by his words. "Alright Jones, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up." He said, his voice laced with barely-repressed anger, "One: We are not friends. Two: I am not and will not ever be attracted to you. And three: don't fucking call me Artie."

Alfred laughed, voice bouncing through the almost-empty hall and causing a few stragglers to stare in their direction. "Dude, you've got some serious anger management issues. I was just kidding, duh." A smug look was tossed in his direction, "Besides, why are you getting so defensive if it isn't true?"

The hand which Arthur had previously been using to gesture Alfred out of the way was now being pressed to the bridge of his nose in frustration. Alfred's grin only widened at this, pleased that he was finally able to get a rise out of the usually calm man. He watched as Arthur let a harsh breath out of his nose and looked up in frustration.

"I am defensive because you're insinuating things about me that aren't true." He said, voice tight with controlled rage. Alfred crossed his arms, leaning jauntily against the door.

"I don't know man, I am a pretty attractive dude, and it seems to me like-" Alfred's sentence was cut short as the door opened behind him and he fell, stumbling backwards into his equally surprised chemistry teacher standing on the other side. His eyes were wide with a slight hint of fear, arms braced behind him on the table nearest the door, and Arthur snickered as he brushed past him into the room.

"Oh yes, you're very attractive." He said with no small amount of sarcasm, smirking as he placed his things on the table. Mr. Brewer looked back and forth between them in confusion, but ultimately said nothing about the conversation that he seemed to have interrupted. It was only a few seconds later that the rest of the class began shuffling in as usual, Alfred still haphazardly leaning across the table. It was only when a large-chested young woman (he thought her name might be Catherine or something?) politely reminded him that he was lying on her seat that he dazedly made his way to his own chair, seating himself next to a smirking Arthur.

As the bell rang and Mr. Brewer began his brief announcements for the day's class, Arthur leaned over slightly to whisper, "Well now, it seems you are rather speechless."

Alfred only blinked back at him, still not entirely able to comprehend what had just happened. This made Arthur's smirk widen just slightly, and he opened his mouth again, tongue barely gracing his lips in an almost seductive gesture as he said, "Perhaps that's because you're hopelessly attracted to me."

He pulled back, stuttering a bit as he stared in Arthur in surprise. For some reason, he hadn't even considered that he would turn his own insults against him, and the sheer bewilderment he felt kept him just as speechless as he had been before. Luckily for him, he was saved from responding by Mr. Brewer, who had indicated that the class was to move to the lab to finish their experiments.

As they shuffled into the lab room, Alfred purposefully hung behind, wanting to avoid Arthur and that gaze he had given him. For some reason, that look left an odd feeling in his stomach (he attributed it to disgust over the thought of him finding Arthur attractive). Unfortunately for him, however, Arthur decided to hang back beside him, his smile seeming to grow every moment he failed to respond.

"That was a joke, of course." Arthur snarked as they sat their books down upon the lab table, "But I'm starting to think that I've hit the nail on the head. You really do find me attractive, don't you?"

This time Alfred steeled himself, determined not to let Arthur get the best of him again. "Dude, no way. It's just that what you said was so stupid I literally couldn't respond. Plus, I'm not even gay."

At this, Arthur snorted. "I swear, if you use anything close to the phrase 'no homo', I will hit you so hard you'll regress into a past life. Anyway, we ought to get started with the last part of the lab. All of the other groups have already started."

Alfred looked around to find that what Arthur said was true. They were the only ones still standing around talking, the rest of the students bustling about preparing for the day's work. He half-blushed in embarrassment as he realized that not only had he been slacking off, but that he hadn't even noticed the time passing. He floundered for a moment as he wondered what could have come over him, but soon gathered his bearings in order to respond.

"So this is the part with the galvanized iron, right?" He asked, more out of habit than actual curiosity, "Seems pretty easy. How about you weigh the sample while I get the acid ready?"

Arthur nodded absentmindedly as he turned away, Alfred following him as the made his way to the center table. He quickly checked the size of the sample that Arthur had grabbed before making his way around to where the beakers were shelved. He was glad, at least, that his frantic search for a graduated cylinder the day before had given him a general grasp of where things were stored, so it only took him a few seconds to find something the right size for their experiment. It was one of the tiniest beakers they had available, only 50 milliliters and it fit right within the palm of his hand.

There was a few seconds of pause as he waited for a student with curly brown hair (this one was named Tony, he was sure of it) to finish pouring out his own acid. Once the boy had put the container back down and moved out of the way, Alfred hastily filled his beaker about ¾ full. He wasn't exactly sure how much acid they needed, but he didn't want to pour too much and end up having to dump some back out, so he settled on a rough estimate.

Alfred set the glassware on the counter and stood there for a few moments until Arthur returned from the balance room. It was only a few seconds later that he dropped the galvanized iron into the hydrochloric acid, setting it gently against the side of the beaker. They watched as the sample ever-so-slowly began to bubble, and they sat in silence, waiting for all the zinc to dissolve.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Alfred was the first to notice that maybe there was a reason that the teacher had wanted them to wait and do this part on a separate day. It had been at least ten minutes since they had put the sample in, and yet it was still only barely bubbling. A quick glance around the room showed him that everyone else's experiments were progressing much faster than theirs, and Alfred paled a bit as he realized that it was most likely his fault that everything was going so slowly for them. He reached over and elbowed Arthur, who had been distractedly writing something down in his lab book.

"Hey, don't you think this is going really slow?" He asked, careful not to reveal that he knew exactly why it was doing so.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Arthur said with his brow furrowed, pen tapping at his teeth, "It is taking a bit of a leisurely pace. Perhaps we should ask the teacher."

Alfred nodded his consent to this plan, and they both waved hurriedly at Mr. Brewer, who made his way over to the boys. They quickly explained the situation they seemed to be in, and after a moment's deliberation the teacher left and returned with a small glass rod.

"This is a stirring rod," He said, handing it to Arthur, "My best estimate as to what's happening here is that the galvanized iron needs to be flipped. The acid doesn't seem to be reaching all of it. Just use the rod to move it around a little, that should help."

As Mr. Brewer moved away, Arthur began to poke around in the beaker, trying to flip the sample over. It was difficult work, as the stick seemed to refuse to find purchase underneath the iron, and both Alfred and Arthur grew increasingly frustrated at the tiny little clinks of glass on glass that yielded no actual results.

Eventually, Alfred burst out, "Here, just let me do it."

Arthur held out the stick for him to take, but Alfred's hand brushed right past it and towards the beaker. In a matter of seconds, he plunged his hand into the acid, turned the sample upside down, and pulled his hand back out, shaking it a little. Arthur did nothing but gape as he walked over to the sink, completely straight-faced, and washed his hands calmly and collectedly. It was only after he had returned, wiping his hands on a paper towel, that he exploded.

"What the bloody hell did you just do?" Arthur asked, his tone caught between incredulous and furious.

Alfred looked over at him lamely, tossing the paper towel in the trashcan before replying, "I fixed the problem."

Another few seconds of gaping followed this admission. "You fixed the problem?" Arthur whisper-screamed, his tone conveying what his volume couldn't, "You just stuck your hand in hydrochloric fucking acid."

"Four molar hydrochloric acid." He replied, "It's not even that concentrated."

"It was acid." Arthur retorted, gesturing with his hands as if that would make him better understand his point.

Alfred shrugged. "It was the easiest solution."

"Are you mad?" He asked, fury puncturing his every word, "You can't just go around sticking your hand in bleeding acid just because it's more convenient. I literally cannot physically convey just how stupid that is. You allowed yourself to come in contact with the strongest acid in the world because it was easy."

There was a few seconds of silence, unbroken by nothing but Arthur's heaving breaths, before Alfred made a noncommittal gesture and said, "Yeah, but it didn't really hurt, so…"

Arthur slapped him straight across the face.


Alright, a few important notes!

One: I've had acid spilled on me enough times to know that no, it really doesn't hurt unless it's concentrated and you don't wash it off quickly. And yes, I have in fact seen someone stick their hand in acid for a really avoidable reason, and to this day it is the most confounding thing I've ever seen.

Two: Don't stick your hand in acid. It's physically possible to come out completely unharmed, but it's still a really bad idea.

This chapter is part of the whole reason I wanted to write this fic, so I'm glad that I was actually able to fit it into the story! The next chapter will be surprisingly not their fifth day of chemistry class, so look forward to time skips and these two nerds bonding (bonding? Get it?) over chemistry.

~Alix Marie