OMG. 1) You guys are awesome! 2) THIS CHAPTER IS MONSTROUS (compared to the others)! 3) ALFRED!
I'm so proud of this chapter. New characters and some reappearances of already introduced ones.
I make no promises that chapters will always be this long. They have the tendency to be whatever length they feel like it. They could even get longer than this 3,000 word+ monster.
Disclaimer: I own the layout of Artie's room, but other than that, nothing. Not even the color scheme really.
####################
The first thing he saw upon entering room 810 was that this place put his London flat to death by shame.
With walls painted a pleasing shade of beige, it melded into the deep red carpet that spread out before him. To his immediate left was an entryway table that already had a little bowl for his keys, and as he walked further in, closing the door behind him, he saw that the living room and the dining room were one.
Directly in front of him was an entertainment center with a plasma TV perched above it on the wall. The couch before it was a dark burnt orange that was paired with a glass coffee table. The dining mahogany table was circular, and it and its four matching chairs fit into the space before the kitchen.
In the kitchen was your basic set-up, with a massive freezer-refrigerator, dishwasher, and stovetop oven on the left and the double-sided sink, counter space, and cabinets on the right, with the pantry dead ahead.
Turning around, Arthur saw two doors, one on either side. The left one turned out to lead into a little sitting room that had a lot of bookcases and a chair in the corner with a little table by it and a lamp. It was so far one of the most amazing parts of the apartment to him. He had a real place to read and do his embroidery. It helped him calm down and relax; he didn't understand why people always thought it funny that he did it…
Backing up to go investigate the room that the other door led to, he found it opened up into his new bedroom. The oak dresser was to his right with the bed and a nightstand on the left while there was a desk equipped with a computer in between. His bed was covered in cream colored, almost golden, sheets and a matching comforter with a simple square design. The computer was a basic laptop with a printer next to it on the desk and a comfortable rolly chair before it. The door to his closet was right next to the door he had just walked into, and just a little bit away from that, was the door to his bathroom.
Arthur's mouth finally dropped upon seeing the bathroom, something it'd been threatening to do from the beginning. The marble tile from the lobby made a reappearance as the flooring of his bathroom, with only an oblong pale red rug to cover a stretch from the door to the shower. As he walked further it, he realized that not only did he have a fantastic shower with a fancy shower head, but he also had a Jacuzzi bath. In his bathroom. Jacuzzi bath.
The Englishman was pretty sure that if he had been born a girl, he would've squealed with delight. He was a gentleman, and gentlemen do not squeal.
They do, however, have spastic movements that indicate happiness, which had anyone saw would've mistaken for a seizure.
After he was done flailing, an important question entered his brain, a question that perhaps should've struck him earlier: where were his bags?
He walked back out into the living room, thinking that would be the most polite and least intrusive place to leave them. They weren't there.
Eyebrows furrowing at this oddity, he went back into the bedroom to look for them there. Upon seeing that they weren't out in the open, he checked the closet. Sitting against the back wall they sat, as if they simply belonged there. Ignoring the fact that Braginski had felt the disturbing need to put them away for him and simply relieved that they had arrived in his room safely, he walked the short distance to them and lifted them up.
Kirkland paused, slowly shifting his gaze to look back down at his luggage, lifting them up and down easily.
…why were they so light?
Arthur knew he didn't have that many possessions, but he knew for a fact that his suitcases had been much heavier than this before getting into the taxi at the airport.
A sense of dread began to fill him as he set them down again and opened them. He stood there, hands limply at his sides as he stared at his empty suitcases. Where the bloody hell was his stuff?
Looking back up and around in his closet, he was shocked to find that his suits had been hung up already. Glad that he knew where at least some of his clothes were but frowning all the same, the Brit walked out of his closet and over to the dresser. Opening each drawer showed another portion of his clothes, neatly organized and folded.
"Oh now Braginski crossed the line," growled Arthur as he shut the last drawer loudly. There's being polite, and then there's being creepy. Not that he didn't already think the Russian a bit of an odd duck, but he was now beginning to feel the tendrils of contempt.
So it was in an obviously bad mood that Arthur made his way to the elevator at the center of the floor, and returned to the lobby in search of Ivan.
"Hey look, it's that annoying British guy with the big eyebrows from earlier…" Arthur heard the woman at the front desk murmur as he walked past them, heading straight for the big swinging double doors that led into the building. Normally Kirkland would've stopped and said something back, but he was too focused on his mission to scold them for being rude.
However, he stopped anyway when he saw that the doorman standing outside was not the same blonde from earlier. His hair was a brighter blonde than the Russian's and his eyes were blue instead of purple.
"May I 'lp ya?" asked the man, his face stern and his body stance intimidating, Arthur remained mute in the presence of this man, even though he had been staring. The man stepped closer. "'re ya 'kay?"
Arthur was about to respond, he promises, when a shorter man in a bellhop outfit came out of the building. He had pale blonde hair and purple eyes. It reminded Arthur of Ivan, but he could tell immediately that at least this guy was friendly in a good way.
"Berwald! Do you know where Mathias is? Ludwig is looking for him, and—," the man saw Arthur, and added, "Oh! Hello! I'm Tino Väinämöinen!"
Tino caught the questioning glance towards the bigger man he had been talking to, and smiled as he patted the larger man's arm and continued, "This guy is Berwald Oxenstierna."
"I-I'm Arthur Kirkland…"
"So you're the Kirkland Ludwig mentioned, eh?" Tino kept on smiling at him, and Arthur was able to relax a bit. "He said you might go wandering around after investigating your room, and that we were to keep an eye out so we could help you out!"
Knowing that his new friend was already looking out for him, Arthur almost forgot his anger, but then he remembered why he had left his room in the first place.
"Hey, do you know where the doorman from earlier is? I need to ask him something." This seemed to surprise both Tino and Berwald, though it was hard to tell with the latter.
"Ivan?" began Tino, the shock evident on his face, "His shift ended at noon. He's back in his room now."
"I see," muttered Kirkland thoughtfully before asking, "Do you know what floor he lives on? It's really important."
Tino and Berwald exchanged a look. A look that made Arthur feel even more like a newcomer.
"We know where he lives, but you shouldn't bother him right now. Raivis just got off too…" Tino trailed off, looking kind of nervous.
Giving them an odd look, Kirkland inquired, "What does Raivis have to do with anything?"
"'s 'ckin' 'm," replied Berwald simply.
"B-Berwald!" exclaimed Tino, a light blush on his face.
Arthur was confused. He hadn't understood what Berwald had said or why Tino wouldn't tell him where Ivan lived.
"I-I'll just wait until I see him again then…" mumbled Arthur as he opened the door to go back inside.
"Okay! See you around, Arthur!"
"G'bye…"
As the door swung shut behind him, Arthur sighed in frustration. They had been nice, but largely unhelpful in his search for the Russian. He was about to give in and go up to the front desk again when he saw a couple guys in bellhop outfits going up the stairs. Seeing as they didn't have any luggage with them, Arthur reasoned that they must have just gotten off their shift as well.
'Maybe they could tell me,' thought the Brit as he walked hurriedly so that he could catch up and not draw attention to himself as he did so.
He caught up with them as they leveled out onto the second floor, the blonde one was clapping the brunette on the back, who seemed exasperated by his friend. They were almost inside the restaurant area when Arthur called out to them:
"Excuse me!" The two men turned around to face Kirkland, confused as to who would want them. Suddenly, the brashness of his actions hit him, and Arthur felt decidedly nervous.
"Like, yeah, what do you want?" inquired the blonde, his green eyes showing nothing but annoyance at being stopped by a stranger.
"Feliks!" His friend nudged him in the side, embarrassment in his green eyes. He looked Arthur in the eyes and bowed his head a little. "I'm sorry, sir. How may we help you?"
"N-No need to call me 'sir', I work here like you two now…"
The brunette's eyes clouded in recollection before his smile brightened up his face. The blonde remained looking pissed off.
"Arthur Kirkland, right? I'm Toris Lorinaitis, and this is my best friend and partner, Feliks Łukasiewicz! What is it you need?"
The Englishman smiled; at least one of the two would be helpful.
"I'm looking for Braginski, the doorman. He arranged for my things to be taken to my room, and I have a question about the way he did it."
Toris began to look worried, "Did your things not make it to your room?"
"Huh? Oh they did, I just have a question for Braginski about how he…arranged my things once he got them to my room."
"Braginski, like totally, wasn't the guy who lugged your crap to your room." Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion, and despite Toris's objections, Feliks continued. "It was, like, Toris and me who carried your crap up to the seventh floor!"
"Seventh floor? But I live on the eighth…" Kirkland pointedly looked at Toris, who seemed to be the easier one to talk to.
With a little sigh, Toris explained, "Mr. Ivan got your room key from Mr. Ludwig, but because his shift was over soon, he asked me and Feliks to take it to your room. We had gotten to the seventh floor when Mr. Alfred offered to take it up the rest of the way so we could clock out of our shift."
"…So it was this 'Mr. Alfred' who actually physically took my bags into my room?"
"Like, that's what Toris said. What, are those ginormous eyebrows, like, obstructing your hearing, or something?"
"Feliks!" cried Toris, his face growing worried and exasperated at the same time. Arthur felt one of his 'ginormous' eyebrows twitch as he tried not to get too angry at yet another comment about his appearance.
"Well, can you please tell me where to find this man?"
"Mr. Alfred is a waiter, though he sometimes helps out Mr. Ludwig," answered Toris, casting a glance at his friend as if warning him to stay quiet. Feliks merely rolled his eyes and mouthed, 'Whatever…'
"Thank you, Toris…Feliks…"
"It was nothing, Mr. Arthur! I hope you get the answers you wanted!" Toris then dragged Feliks away, pulling him into a heated whispering, which Arthur was fairly certain had something to do about being rude to people, as they walked into the restaurant, headed straight for the kitchen.
He also had a feeling that the blonde wouldn't listen.
Happy that he finally found out who the pervert who put away his clothes was, Arthur finished walking into the restaurant himself, determined to find this 'Alfred'. He had only taken a couple steps, when his foot caught on something and he found himself falling. Closing his eyes, Arthur braced himself for the impact.
He opened his eyes when it never came.
"Haha, you alright buddy? You gotta be more careful about where you walk!" Arthur looked up and found the owner of perhaps the clearest blue eyes he'd ever seen. The man grinned when he saw that the Englishman was staring at his face, and he cheekily tried to do a dramatic flip with his blonde hair.
Blushing, Arthur pushed off the man, who had caught him under the arms, and stood straight, brushing himself off as he looked around for what he tripped over.
The offending object, he found, was the incredibly silent waiter, Enlai. Or rather, it was his foot. The boy was crouched on the ground, hiding behind a table. Arthur was about to say something as Enlai stood up, but Yao beat him to it.
"Aiya! Enlai! What have I tell you about doing that, aru? It no good for business if you make customers fall!" Yao slowed his light jog as he recognized Arthur from earlier. The frustrated scowl on his face lightened some, but Arthur just frowned harder. "Oh, it just Mr. Kirkland."
"Kirkland? As in Arthur Kirkland?" inquired Arthur's 'rescuer' incredulously. Suspicious, Arthur looked at him again with eyebrows furrowed.
"Yes, that's me. Something wrong with that?" The blonde man looked him over critically, as if inspecting him.
"Hmm?" started the man distractedly before waving the question off, "Oh, no—I just didn't expect you to look quite like this. I was thinking more of Pierce Brosnan in GoldenEye…"
Arthur narrowed his eyes at the blonde man. "Being British does not automatically make one look like the fictional character of James Bond."
The man shrugged, "Yeah, but a man can dream, right?"
Rolling his eyes, Kirkland decided to ignore him, and turned back to Yao, who was currently trying to get Enlai to go back to work.
"Yao, I'm looking for a waiter named Alfred, do you know where I might find him?"
His hands already full with his little brother, Yao just gave Arthur one of those looks that meant that person clearly thinks you're an idiot and remarked, "You joking, yes? I sorry for Enlai; he has dislike for the British, aru. Excuse us."
"Wha—Yao!" Arthur reached out with a hand as Yao dragged his brother away, probably to scold him some more, but let it drop limply to his side when the Asian man didn't so much as look over his shoulder. "Damnit…"
"I think I can help you…again…"
Hating the tone of triumph in the man's voice at being able to say that, Arthur nonetheless faced him once more, and asked shortly, "How exactly can you help?"
"Well, I know where you can find Alfred for one."
Arthur felt his expression lighten some. "Where is he then?"
The unnamed waiter was about to say something when another man, who came jogging out of the kitchen, shouted, "Alfred! Hey Al! Papa said he wanted us to help get the kitchen ready for lunch!"
Dumbfounded, Arthur could only stare as he and the blonde man were joined by yet another blonde man who had purple eyes. The semblance between him and the first was obvious, but Arthur had more important things to think about than possible familial relations.
"Y-You—! You're—!"
If he could think in complete sentences anyway.
"Mattie!" whined the first blonde man, a pout on his lips, "You ruined my big reveal!"
The second blonde man blinked in confusion, looking between the first and Arthur a couple times before focusing on Arthur. The moment his eyes saw Arthur's eyebrows, his eyes lit up. Arthur forgot to grumble in his state of shock.
"This is the Arthur guy Gilbert was talking about, eh?" The first blonde nodded excitedly, and the second turned back to the Englishman. "I'm Matthew Williams, pleased to meet you."
Matthew offered his hand and Arthur shook it numbly.
"And I'm Alfred F. Jones, the legendary hero of the Golden Turtle!"
That snapped Arthur out of his trance.
"YOU'RE THE BLOODY WANKER WHO RIFFLED THROUGH MY STUFF!" shouted Arthur angrily, glaring at Alfred darkly.
Both Alfred and Matthew gaped a little at the Brit's outburst, who then realized the public-ness of his accusations. Several of the customers who sat at tables were staring at them, and though already red in the face from anger, it grew worse when he started blushing at the unwanted attention.
"What did you do this time, Al?" Matthew asked, his tone of voice hinting at future scolding. "And it's La Tortuga de Oro, not 'the Golden Turtle'! Just because you can't roll your r's doesn't mean you should just translate it into English!"
"But English is so much better!" complained Alfred, not even looking at Arthur anymore, "And I didn't do anything! I just took his bags to his room and put his stuff away for him!"
"Al! That's an invasion of privacy!" Matthew glared at Alfred, who actually seemed to cower a little under it. "Do you want a lawsuit like Papa?"
Alfred's blue eyes grew incredibly wide, "NO."
"Then you shouldn't do such things as put away stranger's clothes." Turning to Arthur, Matthew sighed and offered up a weak smile. "I'm sorry my brother invaded your privacy, but he was only trying to be nice, eh. Can you forgive him?"
"I-I suppose," grumbled Kirkland, looking away from both Alfred and Matthew. So they were brothers, huh? He wondered why they had different last names then…
"Wonderful! Then we should get to the kitchen. Papa is probably wondering what's taking us so long," mused Matthew as he walked over to his brother and grabbed his wrist to begin dragging him forcefully to the kitchens.
"But Mattie! I don't want to help him! I want to stay with Artie!"
Matthew got a glimpse of Arthur's face, and rolled his eyes, grinning, as he trudged on, "I don't think Arthur wants very much for you to stay with him though, Al."
Alfred pouted, but continued flailing against his brother and shouting to Arthur, "Let go Matt! Artie, I'll show you around later, okay? So don't let anyone else do it! I saved your life! You owe me~!"
The Englishman had never been happier to see doors close on a man talking to him.
######################
A/N: Oh Alfred...he only gets worse from here on, I promise! ;D
Enlai is Hong Kong for those who don't know. My resources *cough bff cough* say that he doesn't like Arthur? So I figured he'd try to do random crap to mess with Arthur. Like tripping him.
DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW RANDOM IT IS. IT BROUGHT ABOUT ALFRED. (I actually have a possible real reason why for the story, but as River Song would say, "Spoilers!")
Oh, and obviously 'Papa' is Francis, but Arthur doesn't know that yet. And yes, I will explain exactly how the Alfred-Matthew-Francis family works later.
And Francis's lawsuits will make a reappearance for explanation later. I just don't know when.
###
TRANSLATIONS:
"May I 'lp ya?" (Berwald-speak) - May I help you?
"'re ya 'kay?" (Berwald-speak) - Are you okay?
"'s 'ckin' 'm," (Berwald-speak) - He's fucking him. (SO CRASS LOL)
"G'bye…" (Berwald-speak) - Goodbye
###
Reviews help Alfred escape the kitchen so he can go play with Arthur! :D
Also, Reviewers who know who River Song is are my favorites. JUST SAYIN'.