A/N: thanks so much for reading my story! I'd really appreciate any reviews letting me know if I should continue the story (not that I'm threatening you guys or anything!)
I've realised that British food really isn't anything to write home about. All we really have is fish and chips and the roast dinner... Meh, oh well! It may not be the height of culinary sophistication, but I think it's yummy! ;)
I don't own hetalia or its characters and all characters used are AU!
"Remind me again why we're here?" Arthur asked, a chill running down his spine where he stood in the unheated school.
The corridor itself was reasonably small and lay atop a set of stairs that wound their way up the building from the ground floor to the third. A large, rectangular window stood behind the two boys and revealed the hazy image of a new moon, barely just peeking out from where it hid behind the undefined clouds of early dusk. Nothing could be heard apart from the British boy's occasional sighs and complaints.
As far as Alfred was concerned, he was living the dream. It's not every day you get to sneak in after school closes in search of a vampire. He felt kinda like that lame-ass, posh British detective guy, Arthur always rambled on about.
It was then, Alfred realised he must have voiced those thoughts out loud, as his friend turned to him with an enraged expression on his face.
"That's Sherlock Holmes you're talking about, you wanker! Conan Doyle is one of the greatest authors the world has ever seen- show some respect!"
In response, Alfred simply giggled (not at all like a school girl) at the extraordinarily thick arches Arthur's unruly eyebrows were creating as he lectured his friend.
"Whatever, dude. It was you who wanted to come her after you got that spooky letter."
After that particular incident, the two boys spent their entire afternoon staring at the school's database of students, hoping to find one that matched Catrin's very brief and somewhat exaggerated description of their mystery postman.
It wasn't until they scrolled down to the letter 'B' section that they found something could be described as a 'lead'. The uniform rows of the databases had presented them with the stiff image of a young man, shown to be the same age as Alfred and Arthur, although seemingly more mature in his appearance. The text that sat tightly underneath the picture of the blue eyed blond, said 'Bonnefoy Francis'.
"... Well, he certainly looks shady enough." Alfred started, breaking the awkward silence.
"I mean, how many seventeen year old guys have pony tails and stubble?" He answered an exasperated look of derision on his friend's face.
Arthur stared intently at the hazy image of the possible perpetrator as it flickered on and off the computer screen. Were they in over their heads? If they were dealing with a real kidnapper, then was it wise to chase after him? Also, by hunting down this clearly disturbed lunatic, were they breaking any school rules?
There was only one thing Arthur knew for certain. They were a long way from being able to put Francis Bonnefoy behind bars.
Everyone was looking his way. Yes, everyone. For him, the corridor parted like the Red Sea for Moses, the other kids could sense his dominance the way a pack of gorillas did with their Silverback.
So you may wonder why someone with as much swag as Alfred F. Jones was hanging out with, arguably, the most unpopular kid in School. Well, that is a good question, but we'll have to answer that another time, because right now, Alfred F. Jones was on a mission.
This was a mission of upmost importance that only a hero like him could complete. As he wound his way up stairs and down corridors, he smirked to himself and kept a straight and heroic posture about him, pausing every now and again to put his hands on his hips and boldly survey the 'civilians'. Seriously, all that was missing was the cape.
The gum-plagued double doors flew open and revealed the school's west wing that was lined with red lockers surrounded by students. Alfred knew this place well- it was ideal for chatting up girls and meeting new people. This time, however, all the girls had been wooed and the friends, made. He was here for information.
He leaned casually against the top row of lockers, adopting a stance that invited one in to conversation without invading to much of their personal space. It also showed off his height; he was tall enough to almost brush past the brim of the doorways and thought of that as more of a blessing than a curse, as he was able to use that to show off to chicks.
"Gil, bro! How ya been?"
He gave his albino friend a smirk, and the two bumped fists. Gilbert Beilschmidt was the school's most notorious joker, so naturally the two got along.
"What's new with you, Gil?"
The Prussian paused to recollect his undoubtably busy school week, remembering the five pranks he had already managed to pull off (not without getting lectured by the principal). After a minute or so of thinking it through, he shrugged at his tall friend, figuring nothing he could say would surprise the American.
"Nothing really." He pulled a red folder out of his ridiculously messy locker, managing to knock over a can of deodorant when doing so.
"But I believe you have news for me, mein freund! Keseseses..."
Alfred gave Gilbert a confused look. Although his laugh was extremely unusual (not to mention annoying), it was something else that bothered him.
"News? I don't think so." A look of recognition spread across Alfred's face. Of course he knew about that. The whole school had been in uproar about his new found friendship with the local nut case; Arthur Kirkland.
"How come you're playing detective with blond Harry Potter?" Gilbert smirked, showing his teeth. "It's almost hilarious."
"Whatever, dude. I came here for your help. I wouldn't have bothered if I knew you were going to be a total jerkwad about it."
The steady flow of high school students fluttering from locker to locker began to slow, as it usually did at that time of day. The majority of the students at the school preferred to leave as soon as possible at the end of the day, rumours of vampires seemed to spread quickly...
"It's really important. Do you know Francis Bonnefoy? He could be the vampire. He's dangerous and still out there. Please."
Gilbert said nothing. He simply took hold of his bent locker door and opened it slowly. When the rusty red door reached Alfred, he could he see a dozen photos taped to its silver inside.
Alfred gulped as he took note of a Polaroid of Gilbert with his arm around a certain mysterious Frenchman.
Nothing had happened for one hour, thirty seven minutes and twenty two seconds. Arthur's watch never betrayed him, it had seen him through long test papers and boring social occasions for nine years and had always been accurate. Down to the second.
In irritation, he gave his watch a frustrated flick with his index finger. He was just about through wasting his time when he noticed a figure eclipsed in the corridor's shadows approach a set of lockers. To his right, Alfred was tensed and looked as though he was ready for a fight. Arthur hoped for his own sake, he didn't get what he wanted.
A glimpse of light from a passing car's headlights cascaded over the darkness for little more than a second, but it was enough for the boys to notice the gleaming of blond hair. It looked like Gilbert Beilschmidt's information was right- Bonnefoy did come to school after dark.
Francis knelt down and pried open a locker from the bottom row. It was common knowledge that the lockers on the third floor were too old for use. In fact, as far as the students were concerned, the entire third floor itself was too old for use. It now only housed a science laboratory and the teacher's lounge. No one would think to search these lockers.
The Frenchman pulled out a pair of silver keys before walking steadily towards the stair case.
Aw, shit.
Alfred took hold of Arthur's coat and pulled him unsteadily towards him. With Francis's footsteps becoming closer, the boys darted down the steps and threw themselves into the janitor's cupboard, just in time to see the alleged 'vampire' strut past, humming 'Frère Jacques' to himself.
"N- now what do we do?!" Arthur asked between pants. He wasn't used to being thrown into cupboards in such short notice. He realised how inappropriate his thoughts sounded and blushed to himself. There really wasn't much room between him and Alfred in there...
"hey! Did you hear that? He just opened the doors to the stairwell next to us. That means he's going to the basement."
Arthur looked down into the corner of the storage cupboard. "You're right. We'd best get a move on then."
He needed to get his head in the game and his mind out of the gutter.