A/N: YOU GUY'S ARE AMAZING.

There is no other way for me to say it then that. 17 reviews in one chapter? Not only that, but all of you wrote the most heartwarming comments I seriously thought my heart was going to burst :') On Friday, I barely had any of this chapter written, and to be honest I was thinking I was going to have to wait until next week to post a new one. I'm swamped with finals studying (as they start next week eek!) and this whole week has been one big blurr of project completions and other such things that I haven't really been thinking about the story. And yet almost every day there's a new review in my inbox telling me how wonderful my story is, and how much you all want me to keep writing! And so on Friday night at 8:53 I decided to sit down and write you guy's a chapter, because you deserve it SO much~ And tonight I finally finished it :D THANK YOU!

I PROMISE that next chapter school will be starting (or at least they'll be on their way there lol) so hopefully the pace will speed up...

OMG! I just realized what the PERFECT song for their relationship in this fic is XD But I won't tell you until way later lol so if any of you remember this good job! sorry I just had an epiphany of sorts and I had to write it down XD

ONWARD!

O ~ O ~ O

"But I wanna help too!" Alfred whined, tugging at Matthew's sleeve.

"Not a chance!" The Canadian cried, shaking the other boy off his arm. "Alfred you have a cold! It's not raining anymore, true, but it's still freezing outside and at this rate you're going to catch pneumonia. We have SCHOOL tomorrow, you can't be sick on the first day. Not to mention that arm. It started bleeding again just because you were moving to much. There's no way you can actually work with it!"

"Come on can't I just supervise or something?" Alfred begged, glancing past his friend down the stairs.

"No." Matthew replied firmly, stepping in Alfred's way. "You absolutely cannot. There are 16 of us working on it Alfred, we'll be fine without you and Arthur. Just go to bed and get some rest."

"Ok fine, I wont work or anything. I'll just sit on the steps in a blanket and sleep! Just please don't make me sit in the house alone with him for the rest of the day!" Alfred pleaded.

"You're being ridiculous!" Matthew scolded. "Besides I thought you two had worked it out... sorta..."

"Ha!" Alfred scoffed. "If working it out means I hate him even more, then yes Matthew, we've worked it out."

"Well I'm sorry!" Matthew cried. "But the fact of the matter is you're not allowed to leave the house. Even if Ludwig hadn't ordered you two to stay inside, I would have kept you in anyway."

"Gee glad to know someone's on my side." He grumbled, crossing his arms childishly.

Matthew sighed, pushing his glass up his nose and zipping his heavy red coat shut. "Look it's not like we're trying to torture you Alfred. But it's freezing outside! And the weather seems like it's only going to get worse today. You'll be no help to the group if you just get sicker. Someone will come in everyone in a while to check on you guys, ok? And it's about 3 now so we should all be in around 7 to eat dinner, or so Francis said."

"You really think it's gonna take that long to build?" Alfred gawked.

"Yea." Matthew muttered, glancing down the steps. "I mean think about it. We have to cut the wood to appropriate size, and then attach pieces together. Not to mention the carving and painting that has to be done. We'll be lucky if we're finished before 10."

"But then you all are going to get sick!" He argued. "And Matty, you've never really been great in cold weather to begin with. If..." He trailed off, rubbing his hand in his hair. "If you're going to make me sit around in the house for the rest of the day, the least you can do is promise me that you won't get sick."

"I can't promise that Alfred." Matthew laughed. "But I'll try."

"At least wear a scarf then!"

"It might rain! I'm not going to wear a scarf in the rain! Who does that?"

"I do!"

"Alfred, I have never once seen you wear a scarf while it's raining."

"Then at least take an umbrella!"

"I don't have an umbrella."

"Man, did you severely under pack."

"Alfred!" Matthew snapped, cutting him short. "There's no more arguing about it. You can't go out. I won't get sick. And don't fight with Arthur please."

"I won't fight with him if he doesn't fight with me." Alfred grumbled.

"Well it's a start." Matthew sighed. "Anyway I think while you're in here you should really start-"

"Mathieu what are you doing up there? Everyone has already started to gather outside!"

Matthew stiffened, turning warily to glimpse the boy who had called out to him. "Y-yea I know Francis. I'll be right down."

"As long as you don't leave me waiting much longer."

Alfred frowned in annoyance, casting a glance at his troubled friend. It was clear that Francis's presence was still bothering Matthew. Although whether it was the awkward closeness that the French boy had immediately established with him or something else, Alfred couldn't be sure.

"You really need to learn to ignore him." He advised, patting the other boy on the shoulder. "He's just trying to get to you. Just don't let it."

"Easier said then done." Matthew sighed. "But anyway it's alright, everything will work out in the end I suppose."

"You suppose?"

"Either way," he paused, turning down the steps. "I really do need to get going. See you in a little while Alfred." He waved a quick goodbye and with a final nod, disappeared around the bend of the stairs and out of sight.

"Well that's that." Alfred sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He couldn't seriously believe that they were expecting him to stay in that cabin all day with Arthur without some sort of conflict occurring. It seemed near impossible.

"Speaking of the little prick, I wonder where he's disappeared to." He muttered under his breath. Shrugging his shoulders uncaringly, he took off for their room in hopes that Arthur wouldn't be there. To his luck, he found it empty.

"Score!" He grinned, dashing into the space and shutting the door behind him. "Whole room all to myself!" He breathed happily, falling onto his bed. Now the question was, what to do? I could play DS. He mused, glancing down into his bag. But it was always more fun with another person.

"I wonder how the Internet in this place is?" He asked aloud. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out his sleek silver laptop and set it on the bed in front of him.

"Let's see now..." He muttered, opening the computer and typing in the password. His password was a thing of pride to him, because in all the years he'd kept it, no one had ever guessed it right. His parents often tried, Soren had wagered his own guesses, and even Matthew had joined in trying to figure out his computer password. It was a game they all played. When someone guessed your password, you had to change it, and it stayed that way until someone else guessed it, and so on.

The one rule was that it had to be something that, in any way, related to them. For example, Matthew's first password had been hockey (an easy round on Alfred and Soren's parts), because it was something that he loved and related to. Sometimes, one of them would think of a particularly difficult one and they would spend several weeks trying to figure it out. But eventually, all passwords were discovered. Except for his.

"Finally!" He muttered as his desktop screen appeared, Kiku and Yao had apparently used the Internet the day before, but he never had asked how well it worked, if at all. He glanced up into the corner, waiting for the airport symbol to appear. It flashed onto the screen suddenly, and he grinned. Full bars.

"Nice!" He exclaimed. Although in a sense, Internet should have been a given. After all, if they were here as students, they were going to need to use the Internet eventually.

"I wonder how the Yankee's Red Socks game turned out." He wondered. Despite their move to Britain years before, Alfred still managed to keep up with baseball. It was, after all, his favorite sport. When he was younger, he'd always talked about playing in the major leagues. It had been something of a dream of his. There was nothing like going to a baseball game for Alfred. The salty smell of popcorn in the air, battling the tang of beer and hotdogs. Sitting on his fathers shoulders and watching the crowds around him, listening to the cheers that filled the stadium when the home team did well, and the jeers when the other team succeeded. Most of all, bringing his favorite glove in hopes of catching a foul ball.

He'd caught his first and only when he was seven, in the Yankee's stadium. It had landed perfectly in his glove, as if it had been hit for him to catch, and he treasured it like nothing else. From that day forward, he had been not just a fan of the Yankee's, but a die hard one, much to his Philadelphia loving father's dismay. He had always loved the name of that team. The Yankee's. It spoke of not only history, but of proud history, of their fight against Britain for independence. So he was oddly happy, when his nasty English teacher had called him a Yankee, because he was one. And there was nothing that made him feel more proud then remembering the history of his roots, even if history wasn't his best subject.

"Yes! Yankee's won!" He cried victoriously. "Man I wonder if dad knows. He's gonna be so pissed..." He blinked slowly, staring at the computer screen. Speaking of his parents, he should probably email them so they knew how he was doing. Abandoning his baseball endeavors, he opened his Gmail and began to formulate an apology in his head. Dear mom and dad, sorry I didn't call. We were so busy I just forgot.

"I'm sure they won't be to worried." He laughed. "I've only been gone for like, two days. It's not such a big...deal." He breathed, staring at his screen. His inbox was filled. To the brim. With mail. All of it, from his parents. Well, more specifically, his mother.

"Dear god Mom." He groaned, working his way through the stack of messages. "I'm not dead!" Each message had a progressively worried tone to it, asking him how he was, where they were, why he hadn't messaged them or called or even picked up his phone.

I'm fine. He typed back. It's just been really busy and there's no cell service up here. I'll call you when I find a phone that works. Please don't freak out. I'm fine I promise. -Love Alfred

"There," he sighed, falling back on his pillow. His parents worried way to much about him. Seriously, he was 14; he could take care of himself. He rolled out of bed and sat cross-legged on the floor, rooting through his backpack. "I wonder if I've gotten any other text messages."

As he pulled his phone out of his pack, his eyes caught something colorful in the monochrome white of the sheets. Well, not his sheets. He frowned and set his phone down on the floor as he pushed himself to his feet. What was that on Arthur's bed? It didn't look like a book. Glancing over at the door, he crept over to the other side of the room and pulled the strip of color out from where it was peaking from under his pillow. A picture? Why did he keep a picture under his pillow?

He cocked his head and studied it curiously. Was this Arthur's family? They sat around a couch, all 7 of them, smiling brightly. His eyes were drawn instantly to the boy sitting between his parents, eyes alit, and holding a smaller boy in his lap. Was that..? Arthur? It had to be. Same emerald green eyes, same ridiculous eyebrows and dirty blonde hair. He couldn't have been more then nine years old. His eye's sparkled innocently, but still held the same intensity that they had now, the deep green contrasting his pale white skin. He was, admittedly, stunning for a little kid. He could have been a model when he was younger.

But something was different about this Arthur. He didn't have his studs in this picture. Could that have been it? For some reason, Alfred didn't feel like that was right. Something. Something... His blood ran cold at the sound of an almost inaudible click. The door. Shoving the picture back under the pillow, he stumbled to the other side of the room, falling on his face just as the door opened.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Gritting his teeth, he peeled his face off the floor and inched towards the side of his bed. "Laying on the floor obviously." He replied, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious. Thank god. He thought. Thank god he didn't catch me. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of the demonic blonde walking in on him at that moment. He would have torn him to shreds.

"Well do it somewhere else." Arthur snapped, storming over to his bed. "I'm going to sleep."

"It's three in the afternoon."

"What's it to you? I can sleep if I want. I don't have to ask you for permission."

Alfred snorted and shook his head. "Whatever, I'm leaving."

"Please do." Arthur muttered. "It would be much appreciated."

"Well in that case I'm staying!"

Arthur threw him an exasperated glare from across the room. "Do you just enjoy being contrary?"

"Maybe I do." He snapped, plopping back down onto his bed. "It's not any of your business."

"It is if you're going to be contrary towards ME."

"Just go to sleep." Alfred shot. "I'm just on my computer, I'm not going to bother you."

"Whatever." Arthur muttered, rolling over under his sheets. Alfred glanced at the curled up blonde, eyes fixing on his pillow. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his screen. It wasn't any of his business. I should check face book or something. He thought. Or maybe I should check updates on the next halo game. Or...

"Would you stop typing?" Arthur yelled suddenly. "Honestly, can't you go somewhere else to do that?"

"Sure I can, but what better place then here?" Alfred replied.

"Bugger off."

"Make me."

"Gladly." Arthur snarled, leaping up in bed. Alfred tensed, swiveling his feet over the side. Were they going to fight again? He wasn't sure his arm could take much more of this. His ears pricked and he frowned, glancing at the ceiling.

"Are you ignoring me?" Arthur snapped, drawing his attention back to the immediate threat now standing only a foot from him.

"Well normally I would say yes." He replied calmly. "But actually... I think I heard something in the house."

"Yea, well other people live here you moron. I wouldn't be surprised."

"But isn't everyone supposed to be outside working?"

"Maybe someone came in to get something."

He furrowed his brow and pushed himself hesitantly out of bed. "No I don't think so. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Be my guest." Arthur muttered, crossing his arms. And suddenly, there it was again. A loud, pronounced thumping coming from upstairs. He watched Arthur stiffen beside him, and tossed him a look that Alfred assumed meant that he'd heard it too.

"Actually, I changed my mind." He laughed nervously, backing towards his bed. "Whoever it is I'm sure everything's fine."

"You're not scared are you?" Arthur teased cruelly.

"Of course not!" He snapped half-heartedly. "It's just I don't really like ghosts..."

Arthur rolled his eyes and tsked. "You git, there's no such thing as ghosts."

"How do you know? Did the ghosts tell you that?"

"You're being ridiculous."

"Well if your not scared, why don't you go up on your own?" He chided.

"Because that would be boring."

Alfred blinked in surprise, staring t the smaller boy incredulously "Your not seriously telling me you'd miss my company are you?"

"Of course not." Arthur responded, crinkling his nose in disgust. "But if you're going to act like this the whole time..." He trailed off, smirking mischievously at him. " I dare say it's worth it to waste my time walking around and looking for something that's not there."

"Shut up!" Alfred snapped. "Ghost's do exist! And there's nothing you can do to get me to go up there!" Turning his head away, he sat back down on the bed and crossed his arms.

Arthur quirked his eyebrow inquisitively and slid towards Alfred's bed. "Really now." He breathed, placing his hands on either side of him. "I don't think I believe that."

Alfred paled, instantly uncomfortable with their closeness. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" He stammered, inching away from the Briton. "Don't get so close. What the fuck man?"

"Well you said there was nothing that could get you to go upstairs." Arthur persisted. "I think you're lying. I think..." He slid his hand up his arm, causing Alfred to shudder. "If you're pushed far enough..." He brushed his thumb slowly across Alfred's bottom lip and smirked. "You'll do anything."

"Don't. Touch. Me." Alfred snarled, refusing to make eye contact with the all to close Briton. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you gay or something man?" He hissed, pushing the other boy off of him.

Arthur frowned, taking a fistful of Alfred's hair and pulling him close to him again. "No. But you're close." He breathed into his face. Alfred blinked slowly at him, ignoring the fact that their lips were inches apart, processing what he'd said.

"So... wait... you're... bi?"

"That is correct, in a sense." He replied smoothly, releasing his hair and pulling away from him. "But I'm not really. I don't have a problem with touching guys, but I won't date them, and sex is pushing it. Of course with girls it's all fine. So really, I'm heterosexual. It just doesn't bother me to mess around with other boys, so to keep people from asking what I'm talking about every time I explain it, I just say I'm bi."

Alfred's face burned red, and he forced himself shakily to his feet. "Is that so...?" He muttered, looking away. Why the hell was he dumping all that on him? Just to make him uncomfortable? His poking and prodding already did a well enough job of that. Although that did explain why the other boy wasn't so disgusted at being close to him. Which suddenly, Alfred realized, he was using as a helluva advantage.

"That's all well and good, but that doesn't mean you can just go and use that half bi whatever thing as an advantage to make me uncomfortable." He spat. "Next time you do something like that, I'll knock your head off."

"Dually noted." Arthur replied uncaringly. How can he be so calm about it? Alfred fumed inwardly. His body still prickled uncomfortably from where Arthur had touched him, and if that wasn't bad enough, he seriously felt the urge to rub soap over his mouth. It wasn't the 'ok with touching guys thing, that bothered him. He'd had gay friends back at their old school, and he'd never thought it right to discriminate anyone for stupid reasons like that. Besides, Arthur wasn't even bi, at least according to him. And for some reason, Alfred was inclined to believe him. It was more, that it was HIM. Not that he would have been completely ok with it if it had been someone else, but maybe he would have felt less disgusted and a little more willing to brush it off.

"Whatever." Alfred muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I'm still not going upstairs." The floor above them bumped suddenly again, as if whoever or whatever was up there had heard him and reacted.

"Don't be such a child!" Arthur pressed. "Just go upstairs with me."

"How about neither of us goes?"

"Because I can't go to sleep if there's a actually a ghost in the house!" Arthur's eyes widened, and he slapped his hand over his mouth as if trying to take the words back.

Alfred grinned smugly at him and crossed his arms. "So you do admit there are such thing as ghosts!"

"I said no such thing!" Arthur protested, turning his head away. Alfred stared at him curiously, despite himself. Was he embarrassed? Now that he thought about it, hadn't he seemed kind of nervous when they were in the woods before and he was putting his sweatshirt on? And then after he'd woken up, he could have sworn he'd seen pink on his cheeks. How could a guy like him, get embarrassed so easily? Alfred wondered. This was the boy who'd nearly broken his nose, and had given him shit for nearly every second of the two day's they'd spent together.

He shook his head inwardly. No way in hell. He must just have been seeing things. Only soft people blushed. Like Matthew, and Feli. And well, him on occasion. But only when he was uncomfortable or something. Not because he was embarrassed, or happy or anything else. That's what quiet people did. Not punks. And most definitely not Arthur.

"Any way." Arthur began, turning back to him. "It doesn't really matter does it? Ghost or not, there's nothing we can do about it."

"So why are you suggesting we go up there, with it?" Alfred shrieked. "Look can we drop the ghost thing?"

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly and narrowed his eyes. "Yea, whatever. Should have known you'd be to afraid."

"I am NOT to afraid." He spat. "It's just, not necessary. I'm sure you're right; it's just someone who came in to get something. So we should leave them be."

"Well then if you're not brave enough, I'll go by myself." Arthur announced, spinning on his heels toward the door.

"Ah hey! Wait!" Alfred called out after him nervously. There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghost's, there's no such thing as ghosts. He tried to assure himself. It wasn't working. "Arth- I mean hey hold on!" He yelled, running out the door after him. Geeze, any other time when I want the idiot gone, he shows up. And now when I need him as ghost bait, he just walks off! He swore inwardly. "Hey wait fo- ooor!" He cried, hitting something hard. He tumbled to the ground, catching himself on his hands and knees before the rest of him hit the ground. Unfortunately, the person beneath him wasn't so lucky.

"You git!" Arthur hissed, pushing on his chest. "Get off of me!" Alfred blinked down at him, assessing the situation. He shrugged, and instead of sitting up, grabbed Arthur's hands off his chest and held them over his head.

"What the hell!" Arthur spat, trying to kick him. "What are you doing? You sure YOU'RE not the one who's gay here?"

"I am not." He snarled. "But this, is payback." Arthur blanched, eyes wide.

"What do you think you're going to do?" He laughed nervously.

Alfred shrugged. To be honest, he hadn't really thought that all the way through.

"Come on let me up." Arthur insisted beneath him, trying to break himself free.

"I could punch you." Alfred stated coolly, pulling his free arm back. "It would do a lot more damage then I did to your nose, that's for sure."

"You bastard!" Arthur spat. "I hate you! You should just go die in a hole somewhere, you know that?"

"Look who's talking?" Alfred hissed back, narrowing his eyes furiously. "If it weren't for me, you would be dead in a hole."

"Would you stop harping on that?"

"Well it's true."

"Shut up! I wish you had left me down there. Then at least I wouldn't have to deal with you! I could have died in peace!" Arthur yelled.

Alfred felt his heart drop into his stomach. Wait what? Why on earth would he say something like that? How could he choose dying over getting rescued?

"Suicide is not an answer to anything."

"Idiot, who's suicidal?" Arthur hissed, kneeing him in the gut.

Alfred's face screwed up in pain, and he pulled away, relinquishing his grip on the other boy and falling back on the floor. "Well I just..." He panted, clutching his stomach. "Assumed since you said something like that."

"Well don't assume things then." Arthur snapped. "It's not your place to decide anything. Not about me, or anybody else."

"That's... probably a good rule to live by." He chuckled softly.

"Let me see your arm." Arthur said suddenly.

Alfred stared at him, cocking his head. "What?"

"Let me see your fucking arm!" Arthur demanded. "I'm speaking English aren't I?"

"Well fucked up English but English none the less." Alfred replied.

"I'm going to ignore that for now." Arthur muttered. "Now let me see it. We need to make sure it didn't start bleeding again."

"It's fine. I can feel it's still holding up." He insisted. Never the less, he held out his arm for Arthur to see. He tossed the other boy a curious look as he inspected his arm.

"If you hate me so much, why are you helping me?" He asked. " I mean, I was just threatening to punch you in the face..."

Arthur shrugged. "Because we're a team. So no matter how many times I punch you or kick you or arguing with you, or anything, in the end, I still have to help you. And the same goes for you. Because that's what successful teams do. They support each other. Like you did with me earlier. Or, when you lead everyone is decision making. That's, that's your job. To support the team in the best way you can. The point is that even if we hate each other, we have to help each other. Does that make sense?"

Alfred shrugged. "I guess... " He admitted. "Although aren't we getting along now?" Arthur answered him by tugging his bandage unbearably tight. "Yea." He winced. "Didn't think so."

"Classes start tomorrow." Arthur murmured suddenly. "And at this rate, we'll never get promoted to the international academy."

"You sound like Matty." He rolled his eyes. "We'll be fine. It's just the beginning of the year. By the end, I bet we're all good friends."

Arthur stared at him incredulously and shook his head. "If you say so."

O ~ O ~ O

For the next several hours, they managed to avoid each other as best as possible. Alfred stayed downstairs, and Arthur stayed up. They never did go to the third floor to discover what had been making the noise, but on his own, Alfred concluded it must have just been the wind. He hoped. Every so often (much to Matthew's displeasure) he'd poke his head outside and talk with Soren for a little while before getting shooed back inside. From what he could tell with the small glimpses he was getting, the emblem was turning out beautifully. Everyone was working hard on it, fighting the wind and the occasional rain to get it built, making Alfred wish all the more that he could have been out there helping them.

At around seven, as promised, they had their first meal as a group. Yao had cooked the majority of the food; as he'd done the least manual labor of the group of cooks, save for Feliciano. It was delicious, and Alfred wolfed it down as if he hadn't eaten for days. Because really, he hadn't. The house ate in quite chattering, friends sitting next to friends and enjoying each other's company in hushed tones.

Arthur sat at the opposite end of the table next to Francis, the two constantly between each other's ears, whispering back and forth. Surprisingly enough, Yao had chosen to not only it next to Kiku, but next to Ivan as well. Well, it may have been the other way around. Either way, Yao didn't seem to mind the Russians presence, and even if he did he wasn't intimidated by it, and every so often the two would strike up a quick conversation before Yao went back to talking with Kiku.

After dinner, the battered, beaten crew heaved themselves outside again and began to finish up their work on the emblem. Alfred sat in the living room by the fire, waiting for anyone to come in for a rest. Prior to their departure outdoors, Antonio had taught him how to make a good cup of tea, and so every once in a while, he would make a new cup to be ready and warm for the next freezing person to walk in. If he couldn't be outside working, the least he could do was help those who were. He gave them the tea, for which they were always grateful, and then he and whoever it was, would sit and talk by the fire for several minutes until they would finish their tea and go back outside again.

At about 9, Elizaveta got sent in permanently for fear that she was getting a cold. According to Gilbert, her coughing was bothering him, and he insisted that she go inside so that he could work in peace. Everyone else agreed that she sounded bad, so she was promptly pushed into the house and set under Alfred's care. After taking a hot shower and changing into her pajamas, she joined him down by the fire and they talked for a good while about this and that. When she suggested that they make cookies for the others still working, Alfred agreed, and they set to work in the kitchen. They came out wonderfully. Gooey, and soft and warm. Thanks to Elizaveta anyway. Had he been left to his own devices, Alfred would have burned the kitchen down.

Not long after, assumedly lured down by the smell of cookies, Arthur appeared at the foot of the stairs. He ignored Alfred, but said a kind hello to Elizaveta, and the two curled up next to the fire and talked while Alfred, wanting to keep as far away from Arthur as possible, cleaned up the kitchen. Finally, at around 10:30, the entire crew tromped into the house, cold, wet, weary, and all extremely appreciative of the tea and cookies. With half hearted 'good nights', they pulled themselves up the stairs and into their beds without so much as a second thought. When every last person was in their bed, Alfred finally departed from the living room. Flicking off the lights and giving a last, tired glance at the warm fire, he ascended up the stairs and fell into his bed. That night, Alfred F. Jones could not even bring himself to dream.

O ~ O ~ O

A/N: There we go! As usual, up late Sunday night... sorry! I would have had it up earlier, but I met for like an hour and a half with a good friend in the middle of writing. She's moving to Nebraska in a week, and then Germany in a couple months on an exchange program, so we wanted to make sure just in case we don't get to see each other again for our busy schedules, that we got to say good bye :) Ahhhh moving haha xD

Aside from that. Holy crap my finals! *dies* I'm going to fail my chemistry exam. I swear. I swear, I do, I swear! *sobs* Oh well... OMG I'm sorry this is so short! Seriously It's such a short chapter, I'm ashamed… and there's so much in here I'm not proud of. I just really wanted to solidify about… Arthur in this chapter lol. Aka reason for the fail sexual tension scene XD Also I really wanted to kind of hint at the drastic difference between Alfred and his relationship with his family, who cares for him and worry's about him etc., vs Arthur's who… well we don't even know where there are, much less if their even alive. Xp

Also! If Arthur seems to be a bit... bipolar? That's ok XD remember how he said he hides behind false strength? He bounces in and out of that, which is what Alfred is seeing. he's seeing Arthur's walls deteriorating momentarily and his softer... well uke side coming out lol. so from Alfred's point of view, he is a very strange person indeed XD Gahh I'm not particularly happy with this chapter... *sigh* oh well I'll improve on the next one ^^

THANK YOU! :D