This received a far better response than I expected. Hot damn, people. You all rock so hard! Thanks to everyone following this story. Isn't it nice that you didn't have to wait several months before getting an update? -is bricked-

Pairing: Arthur/mentioned others, Alfred/Matthew, eventual Arthur/Francis

Previous warnings apply

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

When Alfred came home from work, Matthew had set up camp on the couch, laptop in lap and glasses balanced on the edge of his nose.

"Sup, babe?" Alfred asked, coming closer and pressing his lips against Matthew's temple. Catching sight of the website, he chuckled. "E-Romance? Find your soul mate today?"

"I'm setting up a profile for Arthur." The younger man said, engrossed in the form he was meticulously filling out. "I want him to find someone that he'll like. I'll monitor the activity myself and print out the people who are interested myself."

"Hopefully there'll be someone." Alfred muttered, looking contrite when Matthew gave him a sharp look.

"And then I'll show them to Arthur and he can pick with whom he'll have dinner." Matthew finished.

"And he agreed to this?"

"Not at first." Matthew admitted, clicking Save before shutting the laptop. "But I reasoned with him."

"Meaning, you guilt-tripped him." The other blond chuckled. "And you cried a little."

"Its still better than drugging him and selling him into prostitution." Matthew said good-naturedly, giving a pointed look at Alfred.

"Hey, you say 'toe-may-toe', I say 'toe-mah-toe', either way Arthur is out of our hair." Alfred dashed back before Matthew could smack him. "But that's still Plan B!" He shouted, disappearing into the bathroom before his boyfriend could defend his brother's honor.

"He likes soccer." Matthew tried, holding out the picture of a stylish blond man with sharp blue eyes.

"He's French." Arthur spat out, as though the very word was poison on his tongue.

"What about this one?" The younger man said, ruffling through the pages he had printed from the other's profile. "He likes the Sex Pistols."

The green-eyed man seemed to mull that over. "Go on."

Happily, Matthew complied. "His favorite food is lobster, his favorite poet is Byron. He follows Liverpool—"

"Bloody hell no."

Matthew sighed. "How about her?" He held up a picture of a pretty girl with long brown hair in pigtails. "She likes fish."

"…And?"

"…and taking long walks on the beach and colors." The blond looked at the picture. "At least she's pretty."

"No."

"Yes." Matthew snapped, putting the picture in one pile. "You know what? I shouldn't have asked your opinion. You've shot down every single person."

"Did you ever stop to consider," the older man asked, annoyed, "whether or not I even want a significant other?"

"You do, you said so the last time we went drinking."

"Matthew. I was drunk. You shouldn't hold me to anything I say when I'm plastered. For heaven's sake, I strip down to my knickers!"

"Arthur, you're my brother. I can tell you're lonely." Matthew said, voice laced with concern as he ignored Arthur's sputtered, "Lonely? Hog wash!", "You usually ignore me otherwise."

"That is hardly the case. I'm happy being single and I'm not lonely."

"When was the last time you spent time with someone other than me?" Matthew challenged, smirking victoriously when Arthur had no response. "Dear brother, you have no life. And I hate seeing you so unhappy. So please just let me help. You never know, you might find your soul mate."

Arthur was about to respond scathingly but one look at his younger brother's sweet face, so earnest and determined (with just a little hint of "I dare you to stop me" in his eyes) and he crumbled like a soggy scone (made by anyone other than him, of course). "This one seems decent." He mumbled grudgingly, holding up a picture of a young Japanese man with his hands folded demurely in his lap. He pretended to not see the brilliant smile on Matthew's face and told himself he was only cooperating so as to not worry the lad and not because he was lonely.

"Mattie, would you stop pacing and just sit down?" Alfred whined, patting his thigh flirtatiously when Matthew stopped moving to look at him.

"Arthur had his first date tonight." Matthew fretted, violet eyes worried. "We should've followed them."

Alfred groaned, reigning in the urge to just bury his face in his hands. He had thought that he and Matthew could have a little uninterrupted fun that night since Arthur was out on a date (finally!). But, no. Matthew was too on edge and flustered to realize that Alfred had been trying to seduce him all evening.

"What if it was awful?" Matthew asked. "What if he's a jerk? What if he's a serial killer?" He gasped. "I'm going to the restaurant—"

Alfred shot up and caught his boyfriend around the waist. "What if you're just overreacting?" He pointed out gently. "My darling Matthew." He cooed, planting a kiss below the other's ear. "You're such a good brother, but Arthur is a big boy now. You don't need to take care of him." He gently massaged the other's waist, nuzzling Matthew's neck. "Why don't you just let me…" He suggestively let his hand slip lower, relishing in the soft blush that began to rise on his lover's face.

"O-okay." Matthew mumbled, sagging tiredly against his boyfriend. "You're right. I'm just being silly…"

"You're being you." Alfred reassured. "And I love you."

"I love you too—"

The door flew open and slammed against the wall with a loud crack.

"It was a disaster." Said the bane of Alfred's existence.

Immediately, Matthew flew out of his grip and began to fuss over Arthur.

"I'm just going to go kill myself." Alfred said with false cheer.

"Okay, but could you please set some water to boil first?" Matthew asked over his shoulder, more focused in leading Arthur to the couch.

Fuck my life, Alfred thought bitterly.

"And then both his exes burst into the restaurant!" Arthur said heatedly as Matthew nodded sympathetically. "One of those wankers told me to stay away from and the other just picked Kiku up and then they both just left the restaurant."

"Oh Arthur…"

"It was bloody humiliating." The sandy-haired man grumbled. "And I had to pay the entire bill. I didn't even get to have dessert."

"You poor thing." Matthew comforted, wrapping the blanket tighter around his older brother and handing him a cookie.

"But other than that it was a wonderful evening." Arthur admitted with a smile, taking the cookie. "Its not too bad, getting back onto the scene. Perhaps the second date will be better?"

"God I hope so." Alfred said loudly from where he was lounging in the armchair.

"I cannot believe you." Matthew scolded, hands gripping the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car out of the parking garage. "You weren't even trying, were you?"

Arthur, who Matthew had shoved into the front seat, did a very good job of playing apologetic as his younger brother ranted.

"He was so cheerful and friendly, but somehow you found something wrong with him."

"He was too cheerful and friendly if you ask me." Arthur ventured, flinching when Matthew glared at him.

Alfred sat in the back, grinning and watching the verbal ass kicking commence.

"And that warranted dragging him into an argument?"

"He thought Real Madrid was better than Manchester United. I just couldn't stand by and watch him piss on my team!"

"He's Spanish! Of course he'd think that!" Matthew exploded. "And that is still no reason to bring up the Spanish Armada! That was centuries ago and you brought it up!"

"Well, England did kick Spain's a—"

"Not the point!"

"This is great." Alfred giggled.

"Well, if it's so irrelevant now, why did he get angry?"

"Because you gave us an entire history lesson on why England is better than Spain and he's from Madrid!"

"Yes, well that's no excuse."

"We can never go back to that place now." Matthew moaned, head thumping against the steering wheel. "And I really enjoyed their salmon."

"I'll make you salmon at home, babe."

"You're not even allowed to talk!" Matthew snarled, whirling around and throwing a murderous look at his boyfriend. "You were cheering them on."

Alfred looked ashamed.

Turning back to Arthur, Matthew said, "If you don't take the next date seriously, I will call mother and see will set you up with one of her friends' daughters."

Leaving with that threat ringing in the air, Matthew turned on the radio.

Justin Bieber began to croon from the speakers. But neither passenger dared complain.

The third date was with someone of Alfred's choice.

(In reality, he just got to draw a picture from the pile of people Matthew had already chosen.)

You can imagine how that went once Arthur found out.

"I don't think I'll be seeing her again."

"But, the date went well right?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, fantastic."

"But you won't see her again?"

"Not likely."

And with that, Arthur hung up, leaving Matthew to sigh and shuffle through the pile again.

"Can we just go ahead and sell him now?" Alfred asked, popping his head into the room.

"No!"

"Pardon me, but could you tell me where the photography books are?"

Arthur looked up from the cookbook he was perusing, one thick eyebrow raised. "Sorry? Were you speaking to me?"

The blond man seemed distracted, dark blue eyes locked on his eyebrows. "Sacre bleu." He murmured. "Do they not have dress rules for workers here?"

"I wouldn't' know." Arthur said curtly, recognizing the faint French accent of the man and already disliking him. "I don't work here."

The man looked at him before breaking out in a brilliant smile. "Surely you must be joking." He chuckled richly.

"I assure you, I'm quite serious." Arthur bristled.

"But you look…" the man gestured at his sweater vest and Oxfords. "…like you work here."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Plain, boring, unfashionable." The man rattled off promptly, cupping his stubbled chin in his hand. "Perhaps if you plucked those beasts and burned that vest, you might become fractionally homely."

"Listen here, wanker—"

"And you're British." The man shook his head. "That can't be helped. You'll just have to keep your mouth shut." He gave him a pitying smile.

"Why don't you go back to the swamp you crawled out of, frog." Arthur snapped before he smirked viciously. "Or Paris. There's not much difference between the two, after all."

The other man's face reddened in anger.

Both men had to be escorted out of the store by security.

But not before they managed to knock over five shelves and two elderly people and the Best Sellers display table.

And so went the first meeting of Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy.

So...hopefully this chapter did not disappoint. ^_^. Yes, Matthew is a wonderful little brother (I'd answer the phone during sex too if my bro called me-'course I'd also beat him later so yeah) and Alfred is the long-suffering boyfriend. And Arthur is the disapproving older bro. And Francis is fantabulous. -winkwink-

-Evil laugh- I should demand another 40+ reviews before updating again. -is shot- Jk, jk. I'll try to update as fast as I can.