Disclaimer: I do not own. Sadly.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed and/or favorited ^^ I hope this chapter clears some thing's up. Onward then!

And thank you so so soooo much to ForeverTwin611 who showed me how to get rid of the stupid error message and update! I would be lost without them! :D Because of all the past time i should have a couple chapters up in the next few days.

O ~ O ~ O

Arthur narrowed his eye's furiously at the American, curling his hands tightly into fists and vigorously resisting the urge to punch him. The nerve of that insufferable twat! Bursting in the door like they hadn't been waiting around for ages and then having the nerve to act so high and mighty. He hissed through his teeth as he watched Alfred glare back at him, cobalt blue eyes locking with his own. They sparked with ferocity and daring, as if the idiot was actually goading him, trying to get him to attack him.

To some extent, Arthur couldn't really explain the feeling tearing at his gut, or why it was even there. All he knew was the moment he'd first locked eyes with the American he'd hated him. He couldn't help his interjection into the conversation. He could honestly have cared less about what Francis had to deal with. It was his problem and under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have even batted an eyelash.

But the moment Alfred F. Jones had stood, he felt a sudden rise of annoyance, and the blondes forced involvement into a problem that wasn't his own bothered him to no end. So he stood. And he spoke. And now here they were, glaring at each other across the table like a cat and a dog.

"You stay the fuck out of this." The American snarled, visibly clenching his fists. Arthur sneered at him, narrowing his eyes further. He opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but before he could get out as much as a letter a voice interjected his own.

"That is quite enough of that." The chairman boomed from the head of the table. "Now all of you sit down immediately. If I hear another peep out of you, you're all out do you understand? I need all of your names still, so we're going to do this the quick and easy way called taking roll."

Reluctantly, and with a last glare in the other boy's direction, Arthur sank back into his chair and turned his eyes away. When he finally felt as if Alfred's eyes were no longer boring holes in his skull, he shifted his gaze to the young American and bit his tongue. Even his appearance was obnoxious, now that he honestly took a better look at him.

How could someone that looked as dumb as him possibly have gotten accepted into a school like BNA? He screamed idiot rugby player, from his height to his build, even right down to his sharp features and quick temper. He tossed a glance at Francis who wore something of a bemused expression on his face as he watched the scene across the table play out.

The chairman was sifting through papers, most likely looking for something like an attendance sheet, while Alfred Jones was whispering harshly in the Canadians ear. Matthew kept nodding, occasionally mouthing a few unreadable words of his own and frequently turning to the tallest of the three, who's name hadn't been announced but he'd come in with those two so he couldn't be anyone special. The rest of the room pulsed with dull murmurings amongst the students who knew each other, and continuous glances over the table at the others sitting amongst them.

"Here we go. Attendance sheet." The chairman said suddenly, pulling up a piece of paper. "Right then. Alphabetical order." He proclaimed, coughing into his hand. "Please stand when I call your name."

"Gilbert Beil-"

"Here!" A loud voice interrupted, followed by the clang of a chair. Arthur pursed his lips. Was everyone at this bloody school going to be as rude as that American? The boy who stood was tall, but held the same lithe features that Arthur himself held so dear. His skin was pale, almost iridescent leaving him to wonder if the boy's skin was actually white. Then there was his hair, which actually WAS white.

It shone a silvery color, and was cut in bristling bangs that swept across his forehead. Arthur could barely contain his surprise at sight of the boy's hair, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Was he albino? He certainly looked it, for his eyes were as foreign as his hair. They looked to be a deep hue of brown, so brown perhaps, that they were actually red. A self-confident smirk adorned his face, revealing two rows of shining white teeth and alighting those strange colored eyes.

"Just so you all know, I'm a thousand times more awesome then you guys! So remember that." He boasted. Falling back into his chair, he raised his legs and let his feet hit the table with a clunk.

Great another egocentric moron. He seethed internally. Was he to get no peace at this school? Wasn't BNA supposed to be a school for smart students?

"Thank you for the introduction Mr. Beilschmidt but just a 'here' will do next time." The chairman sighed dryly. Arthur heard an indignant snort from Gilbert but other wise nothing was said. The chairman's eyes wandered back to the paper, and Arthur watched him frown curiously.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?" He asked, staring pointedly back at Gilbert. Arthur felt a twinge of curiosity nip at his gut. That couldn't be a coincidence. So there was another one of him? His eyes were drawn to the seat next to Gilbert's as a broad, sharp-featured blonde stood. "Here." He replied in a hard-edged voice. The chairman tossed him an inquisitive look (along with the rest of the room) and he nodded slightly.

"Yes. Gilbert is mien bruder. He's a year up from me."

Arthur bit back his surprise. Not at the fact that the two were bothers, an imbecile could have figured that out. Rather, that the group consisted of more then first years. He'd been under the impression that they were only scouting freshmen. And there was another thing. He narrowed his eyes, thinking back on the boy's sentence. That accent. It sounded... German? And if Gilbert was his brother, that meant that he was German too. How had they managed to get so many foreigners? He was beginning to wonder if he was the only true Briton in the room.

The chairman gave a brief nod at Ludwig, and the German sat back next to his brother.

"Francis Bonnefoy."

Arthur shifted his eyes to his friend, watching him as he stood for the second time.

"Here."

His eyes darted to Matthew (avoiding contact with Alfred at all cost) wondering if there would be any reaction out of the boy. He couldn't see any. The Canadian kept his eyes pointed towards the ground as if no one had spoken. He glanced up at Francis and saw his mouth had pulled into a tiny frown as he sunk back into his chair and crossed his arms. He looked mildly perturbed and although Arthur was curious as to why, he didn't dare disturb the quiet of the room. I'll have to ask him about it later. He thought, stealing another glance at his friend's downcast face.

"Ivan Braginsky?" The chairman called out.

A boy two empty seats down from him stood, and Arthur shuddered. He loomed over the table, and everything around it like the shadow of a skyscraper. His hands were enormous, monstrous things, and Arthur didn't even want to think about what kind of damage he'd inflicted with them. His eyes, just barely visible through the curtain of his platinum blonde hair, shone an eerie violet alit with a terrifying glint. Arthur had been wary of him the moment the boy had sat those few seats down, and had turned promptly to face Francis when he had, not liking his aura.

"Da. I am here." Ivan responded. Arthur took note at the thick Russian accent that flowed out with his words. Great. More foreigners. Not only that, but yet another kid who looked like a delinquent. What the heck kind of school was this anyway?

"Antonio Carriedo?"

"Here!" A voice chirped from the far side of the room. The brunette that had been sitting on the other side of Gilbert stood, a cheerful smile alighting his face. He seemed all right. Definitely Spanish though. He thought. He felt a light prodding at his shoulder and gave Francis an exasperated look. "What is it?" he hissed quietly, leaning towards his friend.

"Of all 'ze peoples of Europe, Spaniards disgust me 'ze least." Francis chuckled in his ear. Arthur rolled his eyes and resisted the temptation to shove him.

"Oh yea then what am I?" He shot back.

Francis shrugged. "You are Anglettere. Your food sucks and you are a pain. What else is 'zere to it?"

"Bloody frog." Arthur snarled under his breath as he turned his attention back to the roll call.

"Roderich Edelstein?"

"I am present." It's speaker, who had been sitting next to Ludwig, stood rigidly and gave the chairman a polite nod before sitting quickly down again. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, someone calm and normal. At least he looked like he belonged here, which was more then Arthur could say for a handful of the others. He was dressed in an elegant manner; clean white dress shirt, black dress pants. His skin looked smooth, and his hair looked tended to, save for a strand that still managed to curl upwards. He practically oozed class, and Arthur felt himself at peace that there was at least one other member among them that seemed sociable. Or at least mildly civilized.

"Elizaveta Héderváry?"

"I'm here." Arthur's eye's widened in surprise and his head snapped in the direction of the voice. Was that... a girl he'd heard? He hadn't even realized that there had been a girl among them, although in his defense he hadn't really looked around. But there she was, standing next to a pair of boys with brown hair and smiling politely. No wonder he hadn't noticed she was there. She didn't really look much like a girl.

Her hair was relatively short, pulled back in a messy ponytail that let her bangs fall around the sides of her face haphazardly holding the appearance not of a young lady who spent time on her hair, but of a boy who woke up and jumped out of bed. Her features were boyish too. Not sharp or ridged like a mans by any means, but childish at first glance, reminding him very much of Bryn's face. She was also very... straight, her body structure reminding him much more of a boy then of a young lady. Perhaps that was why he hadn't realized she'd been there.

"Whoa you're a chick?" Gilbert snickered viciously. "Could have fooled me."

"Mr Beil-"

"Bastard." Elizaveta spat, cutting the chairman off. "Who asked you anything?"

"Aww did i make you mad? Sorry babe but I don't make it a habit to lie." Gilbert replied, crossing his hands behind his head non-chalantly. Elizaveta's face glowed red and she made a move that suggested she was going to jump across the table at him.

"Ve Elizabeta don't!" One of the two brunettes that were seated behind her stood, snatching her hand. "Just ignore him ok?" Tossing Gilbert a sour look, she reluctantly lowered back into her chair.

"Honda Kiku?"

"I am here." a voice responded softly. A small Asian boy stood, bowing politely to the chairman before slinking back into his seat. He doesn't waste any time. Arthur thought appreciatively. The boy, Honda or Kiku he wasn't sure, had short black hair deep brown hooded eyes, and a solemn, almost sad air about him. Arthur felt a twinge in his gut, eyes widening. He wasn't from Japan was he?

"Alright then." The chairman coughed. "Let's see who..." He trailed off frowning, and then took his pencil and checked off the name. Dismissing his earlier thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. If he checked off the name without asking, there were only two people in the room whose names it could have been. And since Williams was at the end of the Alphabet, it could only have been Alfred Jones. Which meant that his name would be showing up soon.

"Arthur Kirkland?"

Speak of the devil. He thought. Rolling his eyes. It just figured their names would be right after one another. He tossed Francis a sideways glance. The French boy was looking at him expectantly, and Arthur could almost here Francis telling him to stand up. He bit his lip. What was he so nervous about? He was Arthur Kirkland. He didn't get nervous any more. Right?

"Arthur Kirkland? Are you here?"

Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, immediately there after shoving his hands in his pockets. He could feel all the eyes in the room turn to him, inspecting him, trying to read him. "That's me." He said finally, eyes shifting to make contact with the chairman. The chairman quirked a surprised eyebrow.

"Kirkland? Now that's interesting. You wouldn't happen to have had any connection to..." He trailed off shaking his head. "No I'm sorry lad please ignore an old man." he laughed. Arthur nodded politely, heart pounding furiously in his chest. That was close. That had been to damn close. He smiled. "You're British, aren't you son? You're the Briton? It's good to meet you."

The Briton? He though, confused. What does he mean by the Briton?

"Thank you sir." He replied, still confused, as he sunk back into his chair. Francis was looking at him, smirking lightly. Arthur glared sternly at him, and the boy flitted his eyes away although the small grin remained.

"Soren Mathisen?"

The tall blonde that had been sitting next to Alfred stood. "Yea here." He muttered as he slunk back into his seat. At least he seemed mildly quiet. Nothing like his friend. So at least Arthur hoped.

"Berwald Oxenstierna?"

Arthur watched as yet another tall blonde rose from his seat. He towered nearly as high as the Russian boy, (Ivan was it?) and like him, he had arrived alone. He looked far older then any of them, at least 16 if not 17 years old, and held a pensive air about him furthering Arthur's estimate of both his age and his maturity.

" 'M he'r" He responded gruffly. Arthur blinked, filtering the words through his head and trying to make sense of them. The boy (if he could be called that) had an incredibly thick accent, one that Arthur decided he couldn't quite place. The chairman seemed just as taken back as Arthur, and only nodded swiftly to the boy before moving on to the next name.

"Feliciano Vargas?"

"Ve that's me!" The brunette that had previously held Elizaveta back bounced to his feet smiling brightly. Arthur watched as a curl off the side of his hair bounced along with him and was mildly curious as to how the heck he got his hair to do that. He looked a little dopey. Not like a bad kid or anything just not a particularly bright one and Arthur rolled his eyes at the seemingly reoccurring trend. "And this is my big brother Lovino! He's next on your list right?" He asked happily, pointing the darker haired boy sitting next to him.

"Oy Feliciano let him do his job. And I can introduce myself damn it!" Lovino scowled, standing and crossing his arms defiantly. "And it's Romano." He corrected, eyes fixed on the chairman. "Got that? R.O.M.A.N.O."

"Ve fratello why do you always go by your middle name? It's confusing when I call you lovino and everyone else calls you Romano!" The chestnut haired brunette whined, tugging on his brother's arm.

"Then you can call me Romano to," he snapped, shaking his brother off his shoulder. "Are we done now? Can we sit down?" He growled. The chairman nodded slowly.

"Ah yes, please go ahead. Erm..." He trailed off turning back t the list. "Tino... Tino... He scrunched his eyebrows. "V..."

"Väinämöinen" A boy chirped from a couple seats down. "That's me. You don't have to use my last name, almost no one can get it right," he laughed. The small blonde rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, wide brown eyes shining brightly. The chairman nodded, what seemed to be relief pooling in his eyes. "Ah thank you Tino. You may sit down. Now then..."

"Wang Yao?" He called.

A small Asian boy who had been sitting next to Kiku, rose. His hair was long, tied back in a ponytail that swung across his back like a waterfall. He was taller then kiku, but just as fragile looking as the other boys, with wide eyes and a soft face.

"I am here." He responded, taking his seat swiftly. He seemed as serious as the other boy, although not with the same gentleness about him.

"Lukas Wilhelmsen?"

"Here." A voice responded casually. Arthur peered across the room, waiting for someone to stand, but no one did. The chairman let out a deep sigh.

"Please stand." He said. Arthur watched as a figure at the other end of the room slid to his feet. Another small blonde. His eyes were cold ceil blue, set in a stony and exasperated expression.

"Happy?" The boy muttered icily. The chairman nodded, pleased grin on his face.

"Yes very much." He responded, glancing back at the list as the boy sat. "And the last..." He said, eyes turning to the young Canadian. "We already know." Standing and placing the paper on the desk, he looked out over them. "Now. Down to business. Let me first begin by welcoming every one of you to our prestigious academy. We hope that you will find the experience an endearing and insightful one." Arthur thought he heard a snort, but if the chairman did he choose to ignore it.

"The 18 of you have been called from many different schools spanning all across the country of Britain, from Wales to Northern Ireland. Like you, there are many other students across the country that have chosen to enroll in this academy. And like wise, in other nations across the world, are schools similar to our own that are doing the same thing. The other students here in Britain, have all been called together on this day in groups of 18 just as you are."

"Why 18?" Antonio piped up.

"I'm getting to that. You see, for the remainder of your schooling, the lot of you will be living in one house. As a team, and as something of a family."

"WHAT?" The outburst was resounding. Nearly every student in the room, including himself, had stood to voice their protests.

"You have got to be kidding me! He's kidding right?" Gilbert seethed.

"All of the students in the academy are compiled into houses such as yours. Each house, or team as you would have it, has a name, as well as one unifying thing that connects them. The 18 of you have not been called into this group randomly. In fact, I am proud to announce that you all are the first completely multi cultural team that has ever attended our academy."

Arthur blanched feeling his heart drop in his stomach. "Wait you mean I'm the only one who was actually born in Britain?" He hissed clenching his fists. The chairman nodded.

"That is correct. Now as I was saying. There are many teams on our campus, each with it's own strengths and weaknesses. You all will have your high points, and your low points. The task of each team is to overcome those and beat out the other teams at the academy."

"What do you mean by beat out?" Francis asked.

"Each team, no matter how many years they've been attend academy, competes against the others in order to be transferred to the international school. Every year, one team is chosen to be sent to the international academy. There is where students from all over the world gather for schooling, and the reward for graduating from there is quite a great one."

"Hold on." Arthur broke in. "You said one TEAM is chosen? What do you mean one team? You act as if all of our fates depend on each other." He nodded, a pleased smile on his face.

"That is correct Mr. Kirkland. The basis of these teams is simple. When one of you succeeds, you all succeed. When one of you fails, you all fail. The fault of one member is the fault of the whole team, as is the success of one member the success of the rest of you. The top team is chosen not only through academic success, but also through behavior, extra curricular activities, and works you do together outside of school. The key word here being together. A team that does not exhibit excellent team work, despite everything else they may do, will no be considered for the international academy."

"My grades depend on idiots like him?" Romano cried angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at Antonio. "Fuck that. That's not fair!"

"It is what it is. Teamwork is the most important aspect of life you may ever learn, and will help you to achieve years beyond your days at the academy. Now..." He trailed off to let the protests die down. "When you arrive you will be taken to your house on the campus. There, you will each be assigned to rooms and roommates."

"What about me!" Elizaveta cried. "I don't want to stay in the same house as all these guys, much less share a room with one of them! Didn't you people think about this when you put this thing together?"

"Well as I'm not the headmaster, the final decision was not mine." He replied. "However I do know that he was considering taking you out of the group until he saw your track record." He chuckled, eyes lighting. "Apparently he thinks you'll be fine." She scowled but otherwise said nothing. "Don't worry Ms Héderváry you're not allowed to stay in the same room as a boy, much less be placed in one with them. You'll have your own room and one of the female assistants at the academy will come by every so often to make sure your doing all right. You're not the first girl that's been placed with all boy's and you won't be the last." He said.

"Now then." He continued. "The rest of the information you'll be given when you arrive. When you get to your cabin, you'll all be fitted for uniforms and you will begin school in two days. There are car's waiting for you outside so grab your stuff and get down there. Oh..." He paused, holding his hand in the air. "The cell service isn't great at the academy. So I'd suggest you call your parents now before you get there. We do have landline phones but they're mostly for emergencies, as the headmaster wants the students to stay closer to the academy then the world outside it. All right then. Off you go. And good luck to you all, I hope to see you sometime at school."

Arthur didn't need another word of encouragement. Snatching his black bag off the floor and grabbing Francis by the collar, he strode quickly out of the room before the rest of them could catch up.

"Arthur! Hey let go of my collar! 'Zis is very expensive material you know!" Francis complained trying to shake himself free of Arthur's grip.

"We have to get down to the cars. With any luck we can get one without the rest of them." He muttered, ignoring Francis's protests and dragging him into the elevator. "Besides we need to talk."

"I will talk if you let go of me Anglettere!"

Arthur sighed and renounced his grip on his friend's shirt as the elevator doors slid closed. "There. Happy?" Arthur muttered. Francis nodded.

"Yes. Now what did you want to talk about?" He asked. Arthur shook his head as they continued their decent.

"Wait until we're in the car." He replied. Francis shrugged but was compliant and kept his mouth shut. The doors binged, opening to the busy lobby of the building.

"Wonder if it's still raining." Arthur muttered to himself. Stepping out the glass doors, he found that it was indeed, still raining. "Lovely. Wet again." He growled, pulling his hood over his head. "Francis we should get to the..." He turned realizing his friend was no longer next to him. In fact he was already running to one of the shining black cars lined up along the sidewalk. "Bloody frog, its just water." Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes. He jogged down the water soaked steps and up to the car Francis had entered, pulling the door open and hopping inside.

"Right then." He said as he slammed the door shut. "Can we go?"

The driver laughed. "My you're in a hurry aren't you? All right I don't think it would hurt to get a bit of a head start. I'm going to put the divider up, so if you two want something press the speaker button or just tap on the glass and I'll put it down ok?"

"Thank you very much." Arthur replied gratefully.

"No problem." the man replied as the black window went up.

Arthur listened as the engine started up and felt the car slowly pull out of its spot by the side of the road.

"So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Francis asked inquisitively.

"That whole meeting in general." Arthur muttered, staring at the ceiling. Francis chuckled.

"What about it?"

"Everything." Arthur snapped. "God I can't believe that guy. I've never met anyone so obnoxious in my life. Just looking at him makes me want to hit him. He looks like an idiot rugby player. Even his voice is annoying and stupid sounding."

Francis smirked crossing his arms. "So what you actually want to talk about is Alfred Jones right?"

"Shut up. Obnoxious prick. He was glaring at me the whole time. What did I do to him huh?"

Francis sighed. "First off you were glaring at 'im first. Don't say you weren't because you were Arthur. And second, it is not right of you to judge 'im by his appearance. You of all people should know 'zat."

Arthur let his clenched hands relax and sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Yea. I know you're right. But it's not like it's my fault I had to come dressed like this! I packed my normal clothes and well, that's all I really had in my apartment. This was al that was left for me to wear. Besides I did ask you to lend me a pair of your clothes but you wouldn't have any of it. Some friend you are."

Francis chuckled, shrugging innocently. "None of my clothes would fit you. Besides 'zere is no way my parent's would 'ave let you borrow 'zem. Anyway it's not completely my fault. You could have at least taken your studs out."

Arthur grimaced, twisting the shining metal balls in his ears. "Yea you're right I should have. I don't even know why I bother to wear them anymore, what with Jacob having left a year ago. Nervous habit I guess."

Francis rolled his eyes. "I still can't believe you took 'zat dare. It was bad enough that you took the dare to get your ears pierced, but to promise to keep them on? 'Zat was not smart Arthur, especially considering how much you disliked them."

"I know I know alright you've told me a thousand times." He muttered, popping the earrings out of his soft ear lobes. "I was just being stubborn when I shouldn't have been."

"And suddenly everyone was putting a punk label on you." Francis pointed out.

"I don't care about that. Arthur snapped. "I've never been ashamed of that fact. Let them think I'm a punk. It makes me feel stronger anyway. It's just..." He sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "It's just it pushed me further and further away from the direction I wanted to go that's all. When I started getting labeled as a punk, I used that outside image to try to make my self look stronger when really wasn't. It gave me a sense of fake confidence. And then I'd go home and realize I was still... me. Not any stronger or different. But at that point it was to late, and I just went along with it. I didn't even have to act the part. They just looked at me and suddenly I was someone strong. I'm able to mask my weakness behind it, and I hate that."

"I know Arthur." Francis murmured. "But isn't that why this school is such a good thing? Maybe here, you'll finally be able to break free of that part of you and gain your own true strength. You won't have to use that part of you to be strong anymore."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't even know anymore. It's already started badly, what with arguing with that American and the way I had to show up looking like. I mean Francis did you see some of them? They were dressed so well like you. Of course then there were the others who just looked like idiots..."

"Arthur." Francis jumped in. "You don't have any right to judge others when you don't want them to judge you. Besides, telling others what to do and then not doing it your self… isn't that sort of hypocrisy? 'Zey don't know how you really are and you don't know how 'zey really are. So let's wait 'zis out ok?"

Arthur nodded and tossed his friend a grateful smile. "Thanks Francis. I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes."

Francis snorted. "You would probably be dead by 'ze side of a road but never mind 'zat, you're quite welcome. Oh, and you would apologize to Alfred? Things between 'zis group are tense enough as it is."

"Hey I don't hate him because of the way he dresses or anything! It's just... him. You know when you first meet someone and no matter what they're like you just want them to disappear? That's it."

"Arthur I'm not telling you to be 'is best friend. Just apologize and 'zen ignore 'im. We have to at least try to all work together or 'zis whole thing is going to go straight downhill." Francis argued.

Arthur sighed. "Yea yea fine. I'll apologize or whatever. And hey what about you?"

Francis quirked his eyebrows. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That Canadian, Matthew. What was up with that, asking him if he spoke French? And you seemed pretty upset when he wouldn't look at you." Arthur goaded, poking his friend. Francis scowled.

"That's none of your business is it?"

Arthur snorted. "No but it doesn't change the fact that I want to know what the heck you were thinking. Do you like him or something?" Francis shrugged.

"He's very cute, no? And he speaks French which makes it all the better."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yea sure whatever you say."

"Aww but he is!" Francis cooed. "I hope we get put in the same room."

"Poor kid. For his sake I hope not. I don't know how kindly he'd take to getting raped. Especially by a guy."

"Hey don't be mean." Francis chided. "And don't even think of going after 'im he's mine."

Arthur's face burned furiously in embarrassment. "As if I would." He snapped. "You know Francis just because I'm bi like you are doesn't mean anything. It's like alcoholic drinks. You're 2 parts gay one part straight. I'm two parts straight one part gay. See how that works?"

"I don't really get your reasoning." Francis replied. Arthur sighed.

"It means that I don't ogle over random good looking guys." He replied. "And that the likelihood of me actually liking a guy as anything more then a friend is pretty low."

"Ah yes yes I know we've been over is before." Francis laughed. "By the way isn't it pretty lucky 'zat the chairman didn't make the connection with your last name?"

"He DID make the connection. He just thought he was wrong." Arthur muttered, heart-pounding t the mere memory. "God that was too close."

"You're going to have to be careful, lest anyone actually figure it out." Francis warned.

"Yea. I know." Arthur replied. They'd been driving for at least ten minutes, and he could hear and see the rain pounding on the windows as they made their way through London.

"I wonder where 'zis place even is?" Francis asked. "If the cell service is bad it can't be anywhere to close to civilization."

Arthur shrugged, pulling Hamlet out of his bag. "I don't know. I guess we'll see when we get there."

Francis eyed the book and let out a pronounced tsk of amusement. "You're actually readi..."

"If you make one bloody comment I swear." Arthur snapped, opening the book on his lap and flipping through the pages. Francis shrugged and turned toward the window.

"You're really going to read the whole time?" Francis asked, still peering out the window.

Arthur nodded, settling comfortably against the door. "As long as I don't have to talk to you, then yes." He replied, eyes already darting across the page.

Francis smiled wryly placing his head against the cool window glass.

"Then I guess it's going to be a long ride."

O ~ O ~ O

A/N: So now we know a little more about Arthur. Looks like he wasn't exactly as he seemed to be ^^ Gah fail at Berwald's accent… as well as Francis. I'm not actually sure how Sweden's accent is supposed to work. Like if there's a rule to it or you just randomly take out letters lol. I've also decided my deadline will be Sunday, although depending on how much time I have (or how motivated I am to work) chapters might come out earlier. I will try not to get them out later though. No Alfred's POV in this chapter, so the next may very well be completely from his. I'm also debating as to weather I should write from other character's POV's as well…