Wow, have I been gone a looong time....Heh, sorry about that. I know I really shouldn't make excuses, but there has been a French exchange student here and things have been a little busy.

Well then, here you are!! I know you've had a long wait and I thank you for your patience!

Enjoy!!

"Are we there yet?"

"No sweetie, but we should be getting there soon enough." Antionette Boulanger answered the persistent question for about the millionth time since stepping onto the private jet.

Oliver sighed and went back to staring out the window. This mundane task was made much harder than it should have been due to the fact that the blond Italian seated next to him insisted on leaning over in front of Oliver and pressing his own face against the glass.

"Enri," the Frenchman said unpleasantly, "could you please sit down so I can look out the window?"

His best friend turned to him, hands on the window sill to keep him from falling onto the smaller boy. "But I wanna look out the window too," he pouted.

"Well there are only a hundred different window seats here Enri," the green-haired boy said as he spread his arms to emphasize his point. "Why don't you go sit in one of them?"

Enrique grumbled and reseated himself properly in his chair, crossing his tanned arms. "I don't really care what's out there anyway..." he mumbled, more to himself than to the boy next to him.

The woman seated across the aisle had been watching the two and presently shook her head, returning to her newspaper. Those boys were making the flight longer than it had to be.

They rode on in relative silence for a while. The only sounds were they two boys' talking and occasional laughter.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the conversation, and Enrique became very bored—having no window to look out of. He glanced over at Oliver; the French boy was looking out his window, blissfully unaware of Enrique's boredom.

Watching his best friend, the Italian got a sudden idea that he believed would end his boredom.

He very stealthily stretched his leg in the green-haired boy's direction and kicked the side of his ankle gently.

Oliver made no response (deliberately ignoring his friend), so Enrique reached over and poked his arm.

This time, the Frenchman swatted Enrique's hand away. "Stop bothering me Enri, I'm trying to look out the window here!"

"Sorry Olive, I'm just bored." The blond defended himself playfully.

"Don't call me Olive!" the younger boy scolded his best friend. "And if you're bored, find something better to do than annoy me!"

"But there is nothing better," the other complained under his breath very quietly, not wanting his companion (who had returned to staring out the window) to hear.

Enrique sat absentmindedly swinging his feet and staring at the ceiling in a very bored fashion.

The boy's kicking, however, was creating a rather repetitive (and thus annoying) rhythm—thudding and twanging slightly every time his legs came in contact with the seat.

He quickly discovered this and amused himself with it, watching his legs as he moved them and tried out different tempos and patterns. It turned into a sort of game. He wanted to see how far he could take this before he annoyed either Oliver or Mrs. Boulanger.

It was only about two minutes before the boy next to Enrique turned to face the Italian.

"Could you please stop that?!"

From her seat in the next aisle, Antionette chuckled to herself.

"What?" Enrique ceased his kicking, question sounding innocent enough. "It's not bothering anyone."

"Yes it is Enri, it's bothering me."

"But all you're doing is looking out a window! How does that need any concentration?" The blond had gotten the reaction he wanted—fighting with Oliver was much more entertaining than annoying him. Although, the Italian reflected, it was normally Oliver who started these fights.

The Frenchman sighed in annoyance. "You're impossible," he said, pronouncing the last word in a way that was slightly French. English was not the boys' first language—although they did speak it rather well. Sometimes Oliver found himself switching back to the French pronunciations and sometimes even words.

"Well you can be pretty impossible yourself," Enrique said, taking care to pronounce 'impossible' in an exaggerated American accent.

"Whatever." The French boy huffed and returned to his continuous gaze out the window.

Enrique was once again left to sit in silence and boredom, looking around for anything that could possibly entertain him.

Over the top of her paper, Antionette watched the Italian carefully.

Not finding anything that could keep him entertained for an entire plane ride, the boy abandoned his search and instead flipped himself so that he was sitting upside down in his chair. His legs were now resting on the back of the seat, arms and head dangling over the edge.

Oliver noticed this odd behavior and turned his head to look at his best friend, one eyebrow raised copying the look he'd seen his mother give so many people. "What are you doing?" he asked carefully, as though afraid of the answer.

The blond simply smiled at his friend and said, "Nothin'." His face was red from being seated the opposite way of how he was supposed to, and this smile made him look quite sinister.

The Frenchman feared for his friend's sanity. He shook his head (once again doing what he'd seen his mother do many times and making himself look a lot like her in the process) and returned to look at the beautiful world outside his window.

Enrique sighed and flipped himself upright again. His plans had been foiled once again by the other boy's insistence on staring out that window for the entire trip. This was one of the longest, slowest, most boring plane rides he'd ever been on.

He just had to get Oliver's attention away from that cursed window!

The young Italian smirked, yet another idea forming in his mind—this time on how to get his friends focus away from the window. He got up onto his knees and once again leaned across Oliver's seat. Placing his hands on the window sill he asked casually, "What's so interesting out there?"

The green-haired boy frowned at his blocked view and folded his small arms. "Enri, sit down! I can't see!"

"Well if I sit down, then I won't be able to see!"

"Then move to another window seat!"

Enrique shook his head stubbornly. "Don't wanna." He stretched forward further and rested his elbows on the sill. "This seat has the best window."

"Enri, I'm sure there's nothing wrong with the other windows!" As Oliver said this, he tried to shove the Italian to the floor by pushing on the boy's shoulder and arm closest to him.

"Yes there is." Enrique promised his friend, managing to keep his elbows firmly planted on the window sill despite Oliver's best attempts.

Giving up, the Frenchman crossed his arms with a huff. "Mom, are we there yet?"

"We should be there real soon," the woman answered.

"Thankfully...Enri sit down!"

"Fine!" Enrique finally gave in, sitting back down. "There's nothing special out there anyway."

There were about two seconds of silence.

Then Enrique discovered that he was bored once again. He decided to try a different approach this time.

"Oli, I'm really bored!" the Italian complained.

He didn't get a response.

"What could you possibly be looking at that is so amazing?!"

There still was no reply from the French boy.

"I'm bored!" the blond proclaimed.

This time, Oliver giggled quietly.

"What's so funny?!" Enrique demanded.

"You," his companion answered simply.

"Have you just been letting me sit here bored because it kept you from getting bored?!" the blond asked incredulously, suddenly understanding.

Giggling a little more, Oliver nodded in a way that would have been adorable if one hadn't been mad at him...which Enrique just happened to be at the moment.

"Well I'm glad one of us is having a good time!"

"Calm down boys," Antionette said over Enrique's shouting and Oliver's laughing.

The Italian stopped yelling and sighed. "Are we there yet?"

"We land in five minutes." The Frenchwoman answered the question for what she hoped would be the final time.

"Finally!" Enrique exclaimed, buckling himself in.

Oliver was still giggling quietly as he did the same.

"Johnny, sit still!"

"Make me," the Scot mumbled so that only the German boy he was sitting next to could hear.

Robert looked at the redhead with unconcealed disapproval. "You should listen to your mother more."

Johnny rolled his plum eyes, then spoke up. "Yes mother dear!" he called to the woman.

The boy's words obviously held no meaning because seconds later he was caught shifting his position constantly and 'accidentally' knocking his mother's purse and other belongings to the ground.

"Johnny!" His mother was really serious this time.

"Alright alright!" He retrieved the purse and sat back down. "Don't have a cow," he added as a mumble.

Robert sighed. He was bored, too, but he had more self-control than Johnny did it seemed.

When the Scotsman was bored, he was insufferable.

When Johnny got bored, he got miserable. And when he was miserable, he was annoying to those around him. Now, it's understandable that nearly all children are annoying when they're bored...but Johnny was worse. He aimed to be annoying and to get you as mad as he could—it was almost like a game for him.

Anyway, boredom was the reason for the Scot's behavior...part of the reason at least. Robert knew that Johnny still wasn't looking forward to this visit. There was nothing the older boy could do about this, and Johnny's anger at not getting his way was also part of the reason for his rebellious actions.

Robert decided that he'd just have to try his best to keep Johnny in check when the visitors got there.

The two boys were seated on a bench at the airport, not-so-eagerly awaiting these guests. Mrs. McGregor was standing a little ways away, and had left her purse next to Johnny—this was the reason the boy could so easily push it to the floor...which he had just done again.

"Johnny," Robert scolded, "pick that up and don't touch it again."

"Fine!" The redhead snapped back, placing the bag none too carefully on the bench once again.

After what seemed like an hour—although in actuality it was only several minutes—a voice announced over the intercom about the arrival of a private plane from France.

"Well it's about time!" Johnny was glad that they'd gotten here at last. He'd been thinking during the time he'd been forced to sit still and now thought that maybe this little visit would provide some entertainment for him over the next week....

Three people climbed down the staircase that had been wheeled over to the jet. In the lead was a very hyper blond. Enrique was overjoyed at finally being released from his perpetual boredom into this new environment that was Scotland.

The Frenchman was not far behind his friend; it seemed that the hours spent in the air had made them both very restless indeed.

Antionette, meanwhile, was excited in her own grown-up way. She hadn't seen her friend in years and was anxious to meet Kristen's son. But it wouldn't look proper if she were to be seen bounding down the stairs like her son was.

Being as rich and important as they were, customs weren't really a problem and they all got through easily.

It turned out that the first member of the McGregor household they met was the chauffeur. He and two other servants took their luggage to the car while Antionette and the boys set off to find Kristen.

Their search was relatively short since the chauffeur had kindly pointed them in the right direction.

"Kristen!" The Frenchwoman called to her friend.

"An! There you are. I was beginning to think you'd fallen off the plane!"

The green-haired woman laughed. "No such luck I'm afraid."

Kristen joined her friend's laughter and embraced the other woman once she was close enough.

Meanwhile, Oliver seemed to have rather suddenly contracted shyness. (If it is even possible that one can catch shyness like an illness—it has yet to be proven.) The Frenchman refused to move another step towards the bench and stayed behind Enrique. Cautiously, he peeked around his friend's shoulder at the strange new faces.

Both Johnny and Robert noticed the boy's timid behavior—and they both realized at the same time that Johnny could use this against the smaller boy.

Taking his eyes off the new arrivals, Robert watched Johnny, almost afraid to see what the Scot would do.

As the German watched carefully, his redheaded companion stuck his tongue out childishly at Oliver. He wondered—but at the same time didn't want to know—where Johnny could possibly be going with this.

The blond Italian looked confused when he noticed this action, but it did manage to coax Oliver out of his hiding place. The green-haired boy stepped out from behind Enrique and placed his hands on his hips; raising an eyebrow in the Scot's direction.

By this time, Kristen and Antionette had finished their greeting and decided that it was time to introduce the boys to each other. (A/N: This should be fun...XD)

Oliver promptly dropped his accusing stance as he noticed his mother turn towards them.

"Kristen," she began proudly, "this is my son Oliver and his friend Enrique."

"Hello boys," Kristen greeted them in that friendly tone adults use when they're talking to children. "I hear you two are quite the trouble makers."

"Oh no. Not me. It's always his fault." Oliver defended himself and pointed at Enrique.

"It is not," Enrique muttered defiantly.

"Now boys," Antionette said stopping the argument before it began. "I think you both contribute equally to the trouble making."

Oliver shrugged, acknowledging the fact, and Enrique sent him a quick glare that said he didn't quite agree.

The Scotswoman smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She then spent a few seconds looking over them. "He looks just like you An!"

The young Frenchman blushed slightly and Enrique smirked at him. This caused Kristen to chuckle slightly while Antionette just smiled and glowed with pride.

"An, boys, this is my son Johnny and that's Robert." Kristen took her turn to introduce her group.

"Hello, I've certainly heard a lot about you." Antionette used the same tone her friend had earlier.

Johnny simply ignored the woman. Instead, he waved at Enrique and Oliver with a smirk of his own.

"It's nice to meet you," the ever proper and polite Robert replied. He ignored the behavior of the others, finding it much too childish. He made it a point to be as civil as he could.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Robert." Mrs. Boulanger replied. She was impressed. "He certainly is polite isn't he?" the woman said to her long-time friend.

"Yes...quite a contrast to Johnny," the other woman responded with a slightly bitter tone to her words.

Johnny slid off the bench and sauntered over towards the Frenchman and the Italian, leaving Robert to wonder what he was up to.

The two adults and the German boy watched with curiosity. Robert sensed trouble brewing and followed Johnny, taking the few steps toward the other boys.

"Hi Johnny..." Enrique greeted carefully. "Hey Robert."

At this point, the two women thought it was best to leave them to get better acquainted for a while and started to reminisce together about 'back in the day' instead.

The red-eyed boy nodded in reply to the other boy's greeting while Johnny smirked again.

Oliver crossed his arms. "What's that face for?"

"Oh nothing," Johnny said as Robert and Enrique watched; they both knew that trouble was brewing now—problem was, they dealt with it in two completely different ways.

"Well there has to be some reason for it," Enrique shot back smartly.

The Scot dropped his smirk and frowned. "Shut up blondie," he said none too pleasantly.

"Johnny, be nice." Robert tried to remind the boy of the agreement they'd made earlier.

The Scotsman only snorted, "Yeah, okay."

The conversation paused for a minute, the silence alerted the two women who had been talking. They now watched the boys with interest.

Johnny was watching Oliver, who still had his arms crossed. An idea came to mind about how he could annoy the younger boy. "You look a lot like a girl."

"Johnny!" the boy's mother was outraged by his words.

"What? He does," Johnny said matter-of-factly.

"Johnny!" the woman said yet again. "I'm so sorry about that..." Kristen apologized to her friend. "He's still a little--"

"That's alright," Antionette assured her, "I expected him to not be perfectly behaved."

Oliver stood straighter, arms still crossed, and said, "At least I look better than you do."

Enrique giggled. The two grown-ups, however, were concentrating too hard on their own conversation (which consisted of many apologies and then assurances that the apologies did not need to be made) and didn't notice. And anyway, Oliver had said this softly enough so that only the three other boys could hear.

Johnny's mouth opened slightly in shock before he mumbled, "Well we can't all be as pretty as you..."

Enrique frowned, wondering what the Scot had said. Oliver—who had actually heard—simply said, "I know, and I feel so sorry for you because of that."

"Come here you little freak!" The redhead's soon-to-be-legendary temper flared and he lunged for Oliver.

But the Frenchman responded quickly and did one of the things that he did best: found a way to get what he wanted and keep himself out of trouble.

The green-haired boy dove behind his mother and clung to her leg, feigning fear—and doing a pretty good job of it—of the Scotsman.

"Maman!" he cried, staring at the now even more angry boy with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"What is it?" The woman had been shocked out of her previous conversation and was now concerned. She followed her son's seemingly frightened gaze to look at the angry redhead.

Mrs. McGregor had seen what had happened and was quick to reprimand her own son. "Johnny! What have you done now?!"

"I didn't--"

"I don't want to hear it!" the woman exclaimed, showing her own temper. "Do not try those same tricks with me! I told you to be nice—and this is what happens?!"

Safely secure and perfectly out of trouble, Oliver began to tremble in his hiding place behind his mother's legs.

"But mum! He--" the Scot tried protesting again.

"None of that!" Kristen demanded. Then she turned to Antionette. "I'm so sorry, I probably shouldn't have invited you down so soon..."

"It's fine--" the Frenchwoman began.

"No, it really isn't," the other woman said as she crouched down and faced the 'cowering' boy. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Mm-hm." Oliver nodded in a fragile way with his eyes still shining with fake tears.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

Enrique and Robert had remained silent through most of the ordeal—they'd both wanted to see how it would turn out. Now that they had seen, they both decided that they would have to have a talk with their friend later (Robert to Johnny and Enrique to Oliver).

Enrique, of course, knew his friend was faking. Over their years growing up together, the blond had taken the blame for many things that had been Oliver's fault—including several that had happened when the Italian hadn't even been in the room.

Oliver's persuasive skills were much too powerful. Enrique thought the boy might make a good actor.

Robert, however, was a little confused by the French boy's actions. Oh well, he thought, I'll figure him out soon enough. He did know that Johnny was not too fond of the youngest member of their group...it was going to take a lot of persuading to get Johnny to act civil towards both of the new arrivals.

The German turned to the blond-haired blue-eyed boy next to him. "Your friend is quite..." he searched for the right word, "Unique."

Enrique turned to face his companion. "Yeah...and yours is awful strange."

Robert's lips twitched—barely containing the small smile that threatened to escape.

Yes, this would most definitely be an interesting visit.

There you go!! Pretty long chapter there...but still kind of a random one.

How much longer do you want me to make the story? I can add a few more little spats and 'incidents' before I finish it if you want, or I can just get it done...you tell me what you think.

I thank you for your patience yet again!

Review??

P.S: When Kristen says 'An' she is using a nickname for Antionette...didn't know if that would confuse anyone. Also, 'maman' is what French people would say for like, 'mommy' or 'mom'.