Some Okie slang for you! Most people say the word "comfortable" as, well, comfort-uh-bull. However, us Okies say "Come-tur-ble." Hee-hee!

Sum.: Arthuretta Kirkland has always been a little bit of a rebel. And Francis Bonnefoy has always been the clear image of what she loathed. But after a rumor goes around that Francis is more bad than he appears, Arthuretta's eyes are opened to the fact that maybe, just maybe, Francis might not be such a goody-two-shoes after all.

Genre: Romance

Warnings: Rated T, stomach rubbing, and some gen!flipping~

Read, my chickies! Enjoy!

[-]

Chapter 5

[-]

Francis and I never spoke of the fact that I had bailed him out. His fangirls thought that he had been sick, and he told Gillian and Antonia that someone found the money for him. When questioned who, he simply shrugged and said "I have no idea."

As I finished my second burger at lunch, Feliciana looked at me like she was thinking hard about something.

I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Without warning she rubbed at my stomach. I flinched, but was used to people messing with my stomach by now. (Al was always commenting on it, saying in, what he assumed was, a profound tone, "Yes, yes, it is indeed quite larger.")

She pulled her hand away and clapped cheerfully. "I think you're big enough to fit into your clothes, ve~!"

I burned bright red and hushed her. I glanced around the courtyard and saw that it was just us.

I turned back to her. "You mean I can wear my new clothes on Monday?"

She nodded excitedly.

I hmmed but said nothing more.

Just then, the bell rang. She threw an embrace around me, and I lightly hugged back. "See you after last bell, Arthuretta!"

I nodded and mumbled, "See you." She ran of to her locker, and I walked in a slow pace to mine.

For the rest of the day, I was spacey and out of it. I practically floated through all of my classes. I can finally be pretty. I can finally be worth Francis' affection. Just thinking the thought was enough to make me blush, and I hid my face behind my textbook.

When final bell rang, Feliciana met me at the classroom door and explained that her brother was driving her home, and was getting mad that she kept getting to the car late. So we exchanged hugs and goodbyes, and I watched as she ran off.

I pursed my lips as I stared after her. I'd probably never have that happy stride, that carefree attitude, that innocent look. But at least I'd be costumed for the part.

I sighed and made my way to my locker. Just as I opened it, two thin arms snaked around my waist. I jumped and attempted to get out of the familiar grip. "Francis, you prat, let go of me!"

He completely ignored my protests as he replied. "You're gaining weight, ma cheri."

I growled as I tried to pry his fingers off of me. "And how do you know that?"

He smiled affectionately at me. "I've noticed zat you've started eating lunch again."

I blushed and crossed my arms over my chest, giving up on getting away. "What of it?"

"And I would know zat you were gaining weight simply by 'olding you."

"Don't say things like that, you git!" I mumbled as my blush worsened.

He hummed in thought. "You used to be so petit I felt tempted to swaddle you like la petit enfant."

I glared at my locker, my blush finally subsiding. "You're completely dotty."

"Si votre veut dire je suis en train de perdre il, je suis absolument fou," he whispered as he released his hold on me.

I turned around and glared at him, confusion written all over my face. "What did you just say?"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I bared my teeth at him but said nothing more as I tugged my bag out of my locker and began loading my books into it. After tucking my purse into it and slinging it over my shoulder, I shut my locker.

I turned to him expectantly. "Why are you still here?"

He pursed his lips. "Oui, why am I?" he murmured to himself. I assumed he meant for me to not hear it, so I said nothing on the matter. "I'm not allowed to walk you home?" he asked innocently.

I narrowed my eyes. "And what's with the sudden interest?"

He shrugged and looped an arm around my shoulder. "I just thought zat if I was nicer to you, maybe you'd—"

I wrinkled my nose and held up my hand for him to stop. "You don't have to be nice to me just because I bailed you out, okay? Just…if you ever get put in jail again, remember that I'll help you."

He sighed, then smiled sadly at me. "You're so smart, Arthuretta. You knew exactly what I was going to say."

I rolled my eyes and took his hand off of my shoulder. "I have to tell my cousins that I'm walking home."

A glint flickered in his eyes, and he gestured towards me. "Then do what you must, ma cheri."

I scowled at the endearment but held my tongue. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called Matthew's phone. He answered on the second ring.

"Arthuretta? Where are you, eh?"

"Matthew, I'm going to walk home today."

"Don't tell me you're bailing someone out of jail again."

I puffed my cheeks in anger. "Who told you about that?"

"Well, Francis did."

I had completely forgotten the two knew each other. "Urg. Stupid git. Anyway, it's nothing like that. I just want to keep my newly fat weight in check is all, you know?"

"Arthuretta, you're not fat, eh."

"You're not my mother, Matthew, nor will you ever be. So, please stop worrying about me, okay?"

I heard him sigh in defeat. "Okay. Do you want to at least drop your bag off with me?"

I shook my head, then remembered he couldn't see me. "No, that's fine. Tell Aunt Tori that I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Arthuretta."

"Bye, Matthew. See you later."

He hung up the phone, and I followed suit.

I turned to Francis. "So, are you going to walk me home or what?"

He simply smiled at me, affection easily showing in his eyes.

[-]

"So, explain your situation to me."

My step faltered, and I turned to look at him in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"You're emancipated and living with your cousins and their mother, and you 'ave an account full of money," he stated simply.

I hmmed, then began. "My father owns a large company. Of what it is about, I have never been told. He also had ties with the royal family. He loved me immensely, because I was his only daughter. However, my mother didn't like me quite so much. She was furious that she didn't have another son to run the company. She hoped that I'd bring in tons of suitors. Naturally, that didn't happen.

"So she assumed that putting me through three years of boarding school would straighten me out. Teach me some manners, maybe. But, of course, that plan backfired. I was more sour than ever. Finally, when my father died when I started my first year of high school, she was fed up. She assumed the role of president of the company, and had me emancipated when I turned sixteen. She contacted her late brother's wife—Aunt Tori—and asked her to house me. Aunt Tori, being the generous and kind-hearted woman she is, gladly took me in without question. My mother set up a fund to cover my expensives, and she puts ten-thousand dollars into it every New Year's Day.

"Of course, that means she has to visit me around that time. So she drags my three of my brothers, leaving the oldest to run the company in her absence, and we all have a sort of faux happy family reunion. She takes me out to dinner, looks at my grades, interviews Aunt Tori, all that, and then makes her decision on whether or not she wants me as a daughter. If she doesn't, she puts ten-thousand dollars in the bank and leaves without a word. I have no idea what would happen if she approved of me."

Francis looked at me wryly. "Is that why you act so sour?"

I pouted and crossed my arms across my chest. "No. It just became habit. I used to reserve my attitude just for my mother, but I got so used to using it that I ended up acting like that all the time." I rubbed at my eye, willing the burning to go away as I spoke the next sentence. "The last words I said to my father were 'I hate you for marrying that woman.'"

Francis gave me a sad smile. "I say it's a good thing this entire thing 'appened."

I looked at him, an accusing look written all over my face. "Hey!"

He smiled sweetly at me. "If you're mother 'adn't 'ated you so, I wouldn't 'ave ever met you."

I stopped walking for a moment and rubbed at my jaw. "God. That was so sweet I think I got a cavity."

He laughed, and I commanded myself to not fall in love with the sound.

Too late… a voice whispered in my head.

[-]

He smiled cheerfully at me as I began digging around in my bag for the house key.

"I suppose zis is goodbye," he said, making himself sound dramatically depressed.

I rolled my eyes as I pulled the key out. "Don't be so melodramatic, Francis. It's only two days."

"Zat is two days without you, ma amour." He snuck a kiss from me, and I glared at him as I pushed him away.

"No! Bad Francis! Scat!" I waved my hands at him, telling him to shoo.

He rolled his eyes. "Adieu, Arthuretta."

I snorted. "Bye," I unlocked the door and slid inside.

And immediately watched him walk away through the living room window.

"Someone's in love~" the most obnoxious voice I've ever heard in my entire life sang.

I turned around and glared at Alfred. "I'm not in love, you prat."

Alfred nodded. "Uh-huh."

I hissed. "You know full well that I hate Francis."

Alfred smiled innocently at me. "Of course, Arty!"

I held back from beating him to a pulp.

He laughed and left the room. Matthew looked at me in bewilderment. "How can you stand him, eh?"

"Who, Alfred?" He nodded. I shrugged. "I'm British. I may lash out with words, but I'd never be able to hurt him."

He frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the British be stereotyped as non-aggressive?"

I shrugged. "It might just be my upbringing."

He shrugged in response.

Well he's very talkative today.

(Not.)

[-]

I yawned as I was woken up by someone jumping up and down on my bed.

"Arrrrrtttttyyyyy, you have to help me study for a test because no one else is going to and—"

"You're such a swot! It's Saturday, go do something human."

He paused in mid-jump and fell face-first onto the bed, his chin colliding with my knee. I hissed in pain and pulled my hurt appendage to my chest.

"What's a swot?"

I glared at him. "What? Since when do you care about British slang?"

He shrugged and rubbed absentmindedly at his chin, as if it didn't hurt. "So, what does it mean?"

I looked at him like he was crazy. "A nerd. Someone who studies excessively when they can be doing more entertaining activities."

He nodded, as if it made sense. "I don't have anything better to do."

I groaned and tried to tug the comforter over my head, but he had his huge arse sitting right in the middle of it.

"Go away, Al. I'm not in the mood to be woken up at—" I glanced at my clock. "—nine in the morning."

He rolled his eyes and pouted. "Please?"

I shook my head. "Bugger off."

"Plllleeeeeaaassseeee? I'll stop calling you 'Arty.'"

I sat back up and looked at him warily. "Until when?"

He spoke like he already knew the answer. "Until you get a boyfriend."

I glared at him. "And how long do you bloody think that's going to be?"

He grinned at me. "Soon?"

I rolled my eyes and swung my legs over the edge of my bed. "Fine." He whooped and grabbed my arm, dragging me downstairs to the dining room, where Aunt Tori was cooking breakfast. Textbooks covered every inch of the table.

I looked at Alfred in shock. "What exactly do you want me to help you with?"

He shrugged. "What are you best at?"

I chewed on my lip in thought. "Well, I'd be no bloody help if it's Froggie, so that's nixed. I'm good at geoggers, as long as it isn't anywhere with a bunch of teeny islands and micro-nations. Blodge makes me ill. And maths hurts my head."

He looked at me in utter confusion, then turned to his mum. Who was more used to British slang. (Because her husband was, after all, my mother's brother.)

"She's bad at French, good at geography as long as it has to do with Europe, Asia, and/or North America, biology makes her feel sick, and math is confusing."

Alfred oh-ed, then turned to me in disappointment. "You're no help, then."

I glared at him and sat down in my usual seat, pushing away books and papers to make room for food.

Right then, Aunt Tori placed scrambled eggs and fries in front of me.

I looked up at her in shock. "Chips? For breakfast?"

She shrugged and took a few off my plate. "Fine, if you don't want them so much—"

"No, I never said I didn't want them." She smiled and ruffled my already messy hair.

"Good. Just because you don't have to over-eat anymore doesn't mean you're going back to starving yourself."

I glared at my place as I spooned a forkful of eggs into my mouth. "I wasn't starving myself. I just didn't feel like eating…"

[-]

Hahahaha Her British school-girl side is starting to show up. XD (This means more brit slang *whoops*)

Hope you enjoyed~! Review~!