Silence permeated the car in uncomfortable waves. Whereas the Head of Kirkland Enterprises sat quietly and stared out the window with a look of contemplation, his American assistant sat fuming silently with his arms crossed like a stubborn child. The American's generally sunny demeanor had practically flown out the window upon meeting the French designer and the blonde did nothing but grumble quietly to himself. The occasional slip of a curse or a quiet rant was all that would reach Mr. Kirkland's strained ears despite the resounding quiet. The little episode even continuing once they had reached their offices.

It was almost as if Jones was lost in his own thoughts as he stared blankly ahead, not even acknowledging the smiles that were sent his way as they returned to their office. It was quite a strange sight for many of their coworkers to see the always smiling American scowling with a ferocity that would make weaker men shrink away. Meanwhile, their typically grumpy boss was looking ahead with a blank expression as he followed his assistant through the wide glass doors that lead to their little corner of seclusion.

No, no. This wouldn't do at all.

As the blue-eyed male began to make his way to his desk, Mr. Kirkland shook his head and tapped the younger man on the shoulder before motioning with a slim finger for him to follow. A look of surprise and confusion washed over the young assistant's face, finally breaking the pattern of the scorn as he followed his superior through the thick wooden doors that lead to Mr. Kirkland's private office.

With the door clicking shut behind him, Alfred watched in slight confusion as the other blonde leisurely made his way behind his desk before plopping into his chair with a tired sigh. Emerald-colored eyes scanned over his desk, eyeing the mess of paperwork from this morning before he finally brought his gaze up to his employee. It had seemed as if the frustration was slowly draining from the other man's face, but that wasn't enough. After all, Alfred was the person that usually kept clients and contacts calm whenever Arthur would go into a fit over policies and contracts.

Motioning at the chair on the other side of the desk, Mr. Kirkland scratched at the tip of his nose while the larger blonde lowered himself easily into the opposite chair. Once again, silence settled over the room while the two men stared at each other; one with a look of confusion and embarrassment, the other with a look of curious authority. When Alfred finally found himself breaking the questioning gaze to glance up at the ceiling, words finally cut through the stillness.

"What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"I said, what do you think?" Mr. Kirkland repeated, his professional posture breaking ever so slightly as he rested his head in his hand, using his elbow to prop himself up on the table.

"About what, sir?"

"About the whole deal? About Mr. Bonnefoy." Jones coughed lightly into his hand as his eyes darted around the room, looking for some sort of answer. It was highly unlike Arthur to be this inquisitive of his own thoughts. But, as his personal assistant, it was something that the man should be able to count upon.

"Do you want my professional or personal opinion?"

"Both." Well, that certainly wasn't what he was expecting. A heavy sigh settled through Alfred's chest as he leaned himself back into the chair, letting his gaze shift to focus on the scene behind Mr. Kirkland. A peaceful view of New York with birds flying through the sky, letting their wings carry them gently on the breeze. What he would give to be outside right now…

"Jones."

"Well… from a financial standpoint…" How I phrase this? "It would be a risky move to not invest in Mr. Bonnefoy's project… He is a huge success in Europe and the fact that he wants to use our company as the financial backing for his American enterprises is a financial dream for most institutions."

A look of surprise overwhelmed the Englishman's face as he removed his head from his hand and stared hard at his assistant. That had probably been the last thing that the Briton had been expecting him to say with the way that Alfred had been carrying on for the last thirty minutes, but at least it was the truth.

"However… personally… I think he's the biggest assbutt douchebag in all of Europe. But he is the best at what he does."

"Assbutt?" Mr. Kirkland asked, amusement laced through his voice.

"Sorry." Alfred groaned, waving his hands before him quickly as his mind whirled to come up with the correct response, but failed him. The Englishman chuckled slightly as he tapped a slender finger on his chin, green eyes flitting away to the bookcase on his right.

"So you think that it would be a good investment?"

"I think so, sir. But the decision is up to you. I can have the Financial and Accounting Departments run the numbers and calculate an exact risk if you like."

"Please do so. I trust you opinion, Jones, but ultimately I want to see the numbers in my hands."

"Yes sir."

"Do you know Mr. Bonnefoy on a personal basis?" Well, that was certainly the question that seemed to throw the American for a loop. The grimace from earlier returned as his mouth set into a hard line, blue eyes searching the other's questioning look.

"I've met him a few times. Gilbert Beilschmidt in the Accounting Department was my roommate at Virginia Tech and he's good friends with Mr. Bonnefoy." Alfred scratched at his cheek nervously as his gaze wondering around the room, looking anywhere but the other's face. "He's an asshole," who will have sex with anything and everyone, "but he's good at what he does."

The Brit nodded lightly, eyes training back to his assistant's face, who seemed to be growing weary of their conversation. He knew it was better than to ask of the personal reasons as to why the American was so seemingly upset with their new acquaintance, though he was frustrated with the man who had been practically undressing him with his eyes. Picking up a paper from his desk absently, Mr. Kirkland waved his other hand towards the door before glancing towards the paper he was now holding.

"Thank you Jones, you may return to your office."

Nodding stiffly, Alfred pulled himself from his seat, running his hands over his trousers as he did so to straighten out any wrinkles from his constant shifting around. Stepping around the chair, he made his way back out of the door and into his own office, his mind so focused on the thoughts that swirled around his head that he didn't feel the piercing eyes watching him leave the room.

The cheerful smile was back on his face as he looked out of the glass windows to the cubicles beyond his own little space. A few smiles were returned before the American settled himself lazily into his swivel chair, pushing himself in small half circles as he stared at the blank computer screen before him. A vibration nudged his leg and digging his hand into the trouser pockets, Alfred pulled out his phone, a smile immediately crossing his face at the text that he had received.

Text from Belieber 2:47pm

How did lunch go?

Horribly. BTW, I changed ur name 2 Belieber.

R u fucking kidding? Change it back! & sorry 2 hear bout that.

Hey, ur the one who wants to be Canadian. Gotta accept all of it.

Does that make ur boss a One Directioner?

LOL. Mayb? God I hope not tho.

Guess that makes u an American Idiot?

Whatev. R u still coming down this weekend?

Yeah. Ready to get ur ass kicked in hockey?

Bring it on Mama's boy.

SJKHGIUYFOIFU. Ur so dead.

I'll BELIEB it when I see it. ;)


A grin settled over Alfred's face as he typed the last bit of his conversation. Talking to his brother always seemed to settle his nerves. Maybe it was the twin connection or whatever, but seeing Mattie was always a comfort to the blue-eyed man. He only had one more day until the end of the workweek and Matthew would be coming in from Toronto tomorrow at 4, meaning Alfred would have to ask off early – but that shouldn't be too much of a problem. Now the only thing he had to deal with was the reoccurring image of that French bastard dry-humping his boss in the nightclub that night.

And damnit if Francis didn't know it too, the smug bastard just had to play coy at the restaurant. His knowing looks and waggling eyebrows were too obvious for Alfred to ignore despite his professional appearance. But at least Mr. Kirkland had given him a swift kick to the shin, and that was worth smiling about. Chuckling quietly to himself, Alfred powered on his computer, sitting back in his chair as it loaded and letting his feet swing lazily beneath his desk.

As he absently scrolled through documents, a single image began to reverberate throughout his mental images, overtaking the previous though - the sweet image of his stuffy British boss smiling and laughing from their not-date-date.

Oh how Alfred F. Jones would love to see that again.


A/N: Not really sure where this went…. It just kind of happened. Especially with the ending. o_o

Did I throw you all for a loop with Francis?

Don't get me wrong. I adore Francis, but in this AU he's kind of the person that will do anything to get a deal. Know what I mean? Honhonhonhon.

And Mattie! We'll get to see more of him soon!

Tell me what you think? Reviews are appreciated and keep this story going. The more reviews, the faster I generally update.

I also realized that a lot of FanFic authors that I adore, follow this story.

Thanks! :D