Author notes: Oh wow, we've reached the fourth chapter! After rereading through chapter three, I realised there were some sentences which had some missing words and were arranged in rather weird way. I apologise for that! D: I was very tired when I uploaded it around 3am and I hadn't the energy to read through for the last time. I regret that now. I'm very sorry! :C

And I'm sorry it took me a little longer to update because it's the Easter break over here and I had spent my first week of the holidays in London. It was great to visualise and then actually play out many upcoming scenes (such as riding the tube, walking the streets which Arthur would have walked in the fic, noting down potential settings etc). It was really good fun!

Now I was very excited (and was also rather terrified) to write this chapter because we finally get to meet with Arthur's own 'Shazzer', 'Tom' and 'Jude'. Now, I haven't blindly followed the characteristics of Bridget's friends with the characters I've picked to be Arthur's close pals but they do have some slight similarities. Can anyone guess who plays as who?

alguien22792, I'm glad you enjoy the FRUK interaction! It took some time for me to figure out how to write the emails because I didn't want Francis to come off as too freaky. I'm really happy for your feedback on this piece of writing! Thank you very much! And please wait for Alfred's appearance! He will pop up soon! yoong, Oh dear! xD Well, yes this fic is an eventual USUK story but it just has FRUK at the beginning. Um, I hope you will keep cheering for him…? 8D; I am fond of Francis myself but I'm also supporting Alfred so I can understand you there! kiiroiyuuri, thank you for liking their interaction in spite of not liking Francis…? Haha! And don't worry, Alfred will appear very soon! That I promise you! wolfofthemoon101, thank you for loving the email exchanges! I had fun writing them and please bear with me and wait patiently for Alfred! X3 Randomstrike thank you very much! I'm glad that you've liked this!

Thank you for reading, reviewing and putting this story under favourites and alerts, everyone! As always, thank you Dee or rollofthepenguins for proofreading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia nor do I possess the brilliance behind Bridget Jones's Diary.

T h e B r I t L u c k

a USUK story

By s u I k a l o p o l I s

"Kesesesese! What the fuck do you call this? You're late! But that's fucking awesome because you're paying for all our drinks!" a loud, gravelly voice yelled from their usual seats in the usually packed Pix bar. With his chin resting against the palm of his hand, Ludwig's half-brother Gilbert was grinning wickedly at him as he raised his pint of beer up into the air with a whoop of delight. Sitting opposite him was Feliks, who turned in his seat and waved enthusiastically at him, looking rather perky in spite of having just flown in the day before. That or it could have been his makeup giving off that illusion. Huh, perhaps the latter.

"Arthur, like, seriously? I came back from, like, the heartland and you show up fashionably late looking like that? Like, oh my god, why are you wearing such ugly colours? You look like you just wandered out of Rocky Horror. Like, totally not cool because you don't have the makeup and corsets and stuff," Feliks chastised with a flick of his blonde hair and a playful smile on his lips. Gilbert cackled at this and in his amusement, his flailing hand had knocked Kiku's drink over though this went unnoticed by the Japanese man who watched Arthur with a look of concern etched on his (ridiculously, might Arthur stress) youthful features.

With a scowl, Arthur slouched his way over to where his friends were seated, though his expression softened a little when Kiku made some room for him to sit. "Well, I wouldn't have been late if it weren't for you lot changing the venue at the very last minute," he huffed, casting a pointed look towards Gilbert who grinned wickedly over the rim of his beer bottle. Sidling up beside Kiku, he peeled his coat off, grumbling. "Of all places, why did you have to pick Pix? I had to walk all the way here from Leicester Square."

Kiku looked rather apologetic at this whilst Feliks simply twirled a strand of his lush, blonde hair. Arthur deepened his scowl. Why was everyone around him showing off their pretty hair lately?

"Fucking awesome beer is why," came the simple answer from Gilbert.

"Shove off. Why the fuck do I have to pay for your drinks?"

"Why? Kesesese! It's because the fucking awesome Prussian says so!" Gilbert proclaimed as he slammed his bottle on the surface of the table, looking far too amused.

Arthur scrunched his nose up in distaste. "Oh, sod off."

Once again, Gilbert opted to laugh in that gratingly obnoxious manner of his, his white hair gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the bar. Wait, white? Arthur gaped at the shock of white tufts. Upon noticing the direction of Arthur's eyes, Gilbert smirked. "Like what you see?" he said, his hand rising up to rake his fingers through them flauntingly.

Arthur couldn't keep his eyes off the bold hair colour. "Your hair was platinum blonde. Why in devil's name have you made it fucking white now?"

Gilbert shrugged, looking smug. "Hey, my fans are so totally digging my awesome new look. Have you seen how many comments and retweets I've been getting on my blog and Twitter? Plus," he extended an arm out and wrapped it around Kiku's shoulders in order to pull him into an awkward hug (much to Kiku's obvious discomfort). "Keeks is so fucking awesome because he was the one who did it for me. And you know what? Maybe he can bleach those stupid eyebrows of yours so you don't need to hide them anymore."

Kiku visibly paled at this and he stumbled over his words for a moment, trying to muster up an apology on Gilbert's behalf yet he failed to do so when the Prussian suddenly leaned back in his seat as he threw his head back and laughed, dragging the poor man along with him.

Feliks lowered his cocktail, his eyes widening as a scandalised look appeared on his face. "Gilbert! Like, oh my god, you can't just say that to poor Arthur, you prick. Oh don't listen to that clod, he's just, like, totally jealous. Your eyebrows are lovely."

Arthur grunted in response, giving Feliks a paltry wave to show that no offense had been taken, but that didn't stop his hand from reaching up to flatten his bangs over his brows in an act of self-consciousness.

Catching this, Feliks cast him a small smile and before he could reach over and touch Arthur's hand with those ridiculously manicured fingers, Gillbert finally released Kiku from his grasp in order to fish out his iPhone from his jeans. "Mein Gott, this is totally going on my twitter. 'Hey jerks, my awesome pal Arthur was so fucking late today that he's decided to be so awesome and buy us a round of drinks to make up for it'…" Gilbert raised his smartphone and he took a quick snapshot of the plethora of beer bottles and cocktail glasses which were scattered across the table. "Kesese! 'Wouldn't it be awesome if I was so fucking pissed and I did a show on air. Wonder what sort of awesome shit I'd say, eh?' Tweet."

Arthur watched in partial interest as his friend reached up to adjust the collar of his polo shirt, his pale face dusted with a light pink flush from the beer. Not too far from the appliqué on his shirt was a small yellow bird pin attached. Arthur cocked his brow, noticing the familiar cartoon character. Now that he thought about it, Gilbert had always had a peculiar fondness for that character (a Japanese mascot of sorts, if he was not mistaken) since their university days when he, Gilbert and Kiku had taken the same course together. That said, now that he thought back on it, Gilbert had hosted his own unorthodox yet strangely popular radio show back then (really, how can anyone stand that grating cackle of his and him saying the word 'awesome' in every fucking sentence without miraculously wearing it out?) so it was no surprise the man was now working as a Radio DJ for one of the top stations in London. Although Arthur was not particularly fond of Gilbert's extroverted personality, he couldn't help but feel a little envious of the brazen self-assurance and confidence which followed the bastard like a cloud. It was a far cry from the suaveness which simply ebbed from Francis but-

"Ah, please excuse me, I had almost forgotten. I have some gifts from Japan," Kiku's voice slit through his thoughts, low and soothing and only very slightly accented in spite of the fact that the man had learnt English for about ten years or so. No matter how much Kiku had rejected the idea, it was rather obvious how the man was nothing but a goddamn prodigy. It was strange how he had chosen to pursue a profession of teaching Japanese in university rather than something spectacular and related to his English major. Why, he could have easily surpassed Yao in Elixir andbecome a top columnist or a novelist or something. Huh. It was funny how the boat of life could ebb its way down unpredictable waters.

Arthur turned to look at him, watching Kiku reach into his messenger bag to draw out an iPhone case which was in the shape of that familiar yellow bird before he presented to Gilbert (who beamed at this and gave an overly affectionate ruffle to his hair), a Japanese fashion book to Feliks (who squealed and almost knocked over all of their drinks in a fit of excitement) and a box of high quality green tea for himself. Arthur smiled sheepishly at Kiku, nodding in thanks. "You really shouldn't. I don't have a specific occasion to enjoy a cup of this," he murmured but Kiku waved his hand at this and insisted that he must take it because it was no secret that Arthur was quite the tea connoisseur. Arthur flushed at this but he accepted the tea nevertheless.

"Oh ya, like, you know when I was in Europe? I was, like, soooo busy with meetings, like, you cannot imagine. Like, ugh. I thought having two weeks in Europe would be totally fab because of the wedding dress fashion showcase and all but, like, can you imagine just how so freaking annoying and tiring it is to wake up at, like, five in the morning every single day. I mean, like, I need my beauty sleep, and ugh, you can totally see the ugly bags under my eyes," Feliks suddenly bemoaned, gesticulating towards the soft skin beneath his eyes. Not that Arthur could see any imperfections. Feliks was one of those people who went to such ridiculous lengths to look after his face after all. Upon noticing the unconvinced look on Arthur's face, Feliks released a dramatic sigh before he suddenly turned his attention to Kiku and he reached over to clasp the man's face in his hands.

Kiku blinked at him from across the table, looking rather stunned. Upon noticing the sudden stillness which came over the Japanese man's form, Gilbert glanced up from his iPhone (which was now wearing the yellow bird case) as Arthur sat by idly to watch the peculiar scene that was about to unfold before him.

After a contemplative moment, Kiku finally spoke. "…Feliks-sa-"

"God, why do you have beautiful skin? Like, that is sooo not fair, Kiku. You had botox didn't you? No? A face lift! You had a face lift, didn't you?"

"…I only eat salt and fish."

"Oh, you bitch."

Kiku blinked and it was only after a few seconds did his entire face turn bright red. He was at a loss for words, seeming rather troubled by the sudden accusation which he had been impaled with before he turned to Gilbert for help, who (much to his accumulating distress) simply took a swig of his beer with an amused smirk.

"Terrorising Kiku about his skin won't do you any good, Feliks. Your skin is already nice as it always had been," said Arthur, deciding to step in, with a small resigned sigh. He waved off the small grateful bow which Kiku sent to him, still finding the man's ingrained politeness amusing after all these years.

"Like, whatever," Feliks pouted at this but he seemed rather pleased at the compliment and sat back in his seat to sip his drink. After dropping into a small pause, his eyes suddenly lit up and he fastened his attention onto Arthur. "Oh right, like, where's your girlfriend? The one you're so loved up with? Did you not, like, invite her or something?"

Gilbert perked up at this, a wicked grin growing on his thin lips as he jutted the mouth of his beer bottle towards his direction. "Ja, where is she? What, you don't you wanna introduce your dame to the awesomeness that is me? Ceh, so not awesome man."

Fidgeting in his seat, Arthur reached for a drink to hide his discomfort. "No, nothing like that. We've split up."

"What? But you said she was your type!" Feliks said shrilly, looking positively upset at this and Arthur couldn't hide the small frown which climbed on his lips. It was almost as if Feliks was saying he was the one at fault.

"Yes, well, she was the one who-" he had started off defensively when Gilbert slammed his beer bottle onto the table.

"Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? This is your lucky night, you bastard!" he bellowed with a slight slur. "Pix has a whole selection of pretty gals tonight! Fuck relationships, they're so not awesome. Take it from me, Brit, one night stands are like the awesome shit, ya hear? No emotional fuckups, no strings attached, no mess, just awesome rollercoaster sex."

"Ugh, Gilbert! That is, like, no way to live! A man, like, has to have and enjoy an honest, beautiful relationship! Like, Toris is so totally like that!" Feliks piped up, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"Yeah? Well, he's obviously missing out."

"He definitely is not! If anything, we are at, like, the very pinnacle of happiness!"

"Pish! Happy and constraint, more like! Who wants to have their phones harassed with stupid sappy crap all the time? Being single is way awesome, eh, don't you agree Keeks?"

Kiku looked hesitant to answer.

"See? Way awesome."

"What? He didn't even, like, say anything! Ugh, you know, like, shut up. I am not having any of this," Feliks snapped, raising his hand up to wave Gilbert off before he turned to Arthur, who was staring at the glass of Pimm's he had helped himself to with a calculative look. "Like, seriously, this is like umpteenth time you, like, broke up with someone. Are you sure you're, like, not gay? Like, positively?"

"Feliks-san, that's…" Kiku gaped at him in astonishment as the man in question simply shrugged, obviously trying to ignore the stupid grin which stretched across Gilbert's lips.

"Hey, you never know. Like, not everyone looks obviously gay. That is, like, so last century."

Arthur's mouth dropped open in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It took him a moment to gather his wits before a sardonic laugh bubbled from him. "What? No, wait. Hang on, just what are you trying to say, Feliks? That I've been attracted to the wrong sex all this time? That all my life I'm not interested in tits and fannies, but cocks and bums? Hah! You're having a laugh! You can't be serious!" he said.

For a moment there, Feliks looked a little disappointed. "Like, yeah? With how you keep breaking up with girls so quickly, it shows how something is, like, seriously wrong. It's almost as if you're totally not into them."

"But I am. I love breasts, for fuck's sake," Arthur said stubbornly. Funnily enough, the image of Francis on the tube bloomed in his mind then, of him smiling and waving and looking ridiculously cool as the train pulled out of Bond Street station. It had made his chest throb a little, that smile. He frowned at this, deciding to think back to the incidents which had occurred over the past few days. The obvious flirtation. The wordplay, the emails, the looks cast towards him. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't felt as disgusted and offended as he thought he had ought to be. That was unusual. Very, very unusual. "I love breasts. Tits are lovely. Tits are wonderful creations which ought to be cherished," he repeated once more, almost as if to reassure himself.

"Yeah, like, I totally get that. But then, like, maybe you've just come to realise that maybe yo-"

"Schwul, why the fuck are you not being awesome?" Gilbert interrupted with a slur as he gracelessly leaned over Kiku in order to grab at Arthur's arm and shake him. "Drink! Why aren't you drinking? Get that Brit luck of yours up and running and get laid, dickhead!"

Arthur shoved his hand away. "Piss off, I'm watching my units."

"Kesesese! What are you, a fucking girl? Wichser, drink up and be awesome with me! C'mon! We drink to fuck! Or are you too sissy, eh? What, that last girl broke it off because you don't have balls? Kesee! Y'hear that Keeks? He ain't got balls! Verdammt! You're fucking awesome, Brit!"

Squaring his shoulders with a newfound resolve fuelled by indignation, Arthur reached over for the glass of Pimm's and he downed it all one go, savouring the familiar burn down his throat. Slamming his glass on the table with much force than he'd have liked to (it wasn't gentlemanly of him, after all), he glared at Gilbert. "Fucking wanker. Sod it, you're on."

It took him a while to reach his desk, dragging his feet across the carpet with a slight wobble in spite of how much effort he had put in to stay as upright as he possibly could. The phantom weight which had settled on his head and shoulders ever since he had stumbled out of bed that morning was making it hard for him to walk in a straight line. The room tilted much further than he liked and the incessant ringing of telephones as well as the chattering of people around him was making him increasingly irritable with each passing moment. Upon spotting Yao make his way down a corridor which led towards the another department, Arthur slipped into the editorial wing in a set of sluggish movements before he finally plopped down onto his seat in a rather graceless manner. It was good thing his brain was smart enough to instruct his lethargic body to right his balance in his chair or else he'd have toppled out of it. That would be quite an embarrassing spectacle. Arthur nodded to himself, applauding himself for behaving.

Right. And now, to ignore everyone (not that anyone paid any attention to him in the first place – he wasn't that interesting after all) and everything around him for the next-

"Bonjour. Ça va mon chou?"

Arthur bit back a groan and he ran his fingers through his unkempt hair.

Of all people to speak to first thing in the morning, why him?

Ignoring the itch in his chest and the strange initial urge to quickly glance up into his boss's face, he kept his gaze trained on the small yellow bird paperweight (Kohtoh-something or what's it name – only Gilbert could remember foreign names so easily, even when he was drunk for that matter) which Kiku had given him last Christmas. Perhaps doing so would make him look somewhat intelligent and alert and definitely not hungover in front of Francis so that the man would just leave him be. 'Yes, let's simply stare at that bird shall we?' he thought.

However, rather than pick up the idea that Arthur was not in the mood to cook up a conversation, Francis had decided to take the liberty of leaning against Arthur's desk before he tilted his head in order to peer up into his face and catch his eyes. "Ohon, already playing hard to get? Aren't you playful…you're looking very sexy today, Arthur," he purred. "What is that word you call? Bedraggled, yes? It is like you had wandered out of the bedroom just to tease me with those eyes. Well now, I take it you had a good night?"

It might have been the after effects of the alcohol in his system or perhaps the maddening non-stop pounding in his head or it could have been because of the fact that he had woken up on the floor of his kitchen with a bruised elbow and a shirt which was stained with some unidentifiable substance (he couldn't really remember what had happened the night before apart from a few fuzzy images of a very pretty girl, his friends and dirty red shoes). Whatever it was, it made Arthur lift his face to meet Francis's gaze with a scowl. "Yes, it was a very good night if you must know sir, thank you," he found himself snapping at him, perhaps a little too harshly.

There was a surprised look on Francis's face and Arthur lowered his gaze back to the paperweight, staring at it in slight shame as he ran his hand through his hair once more with an exasperated sigh. "…sorry. I didn't mean to…I mean, well, it's not tha-"

"Francis," Yao's voice (which sounded far too loud and screechy like a banshee to Arthur at that moment then) rang throughout the office and it didn't take long for the Chinese man to reach his desk in spite of the bastard having short legs. "Mr. Romulus is calling for you in the board room…" he trailed off, noticing the unnatural tenseness in the air and he glanced between them. "Am I interrupting?"

"Well-"

"No, no. Sorry, please don't let me hold you up Mr. Bonnefoy," Arthur said curtly just as Francis glanced over to his direction. "I was just about to send over the minutes from yesterday's meeting anyway."

"Eh, I thought you sent them already? Aiyaa, you English are so laidback. No wonder you're still in your position after two years. Go, go. I'm sure Suzie is still mad at you, anyway. Well, shall we Francis?" Yao said with touch of impatience in his tone though this went unnoticed by their boss as he looked at Arthur with such intensity. If it were any other day, Arthur would have told him off for doing such a thing in the office but today was different. He felt far too sluggish, far too irritable and far too hungover to uphold some sense of propriety in this conversation, let alone pick up the lack of respect Yao obviously had towards him regardless of the fact that Francis was present. Huh. Arthur shook his head a little and he scowled at how heavy it felt, almost as if it was made of lead. It was a wonder that his head was still attached to his body.

"In a minute, Yao. There is something I would like to discuss with Arthur."

"No, there is nothing to discuss. I believe we all have our own duties to attend to, sir. So-"

"Francis, Arthur. Please, everyone calls me Francis," his boss interjected. There was a frown on his handsome face.

"Yes, well, I'm not everyone now, am I?" Arthur retorted. Ah fuck it, he was far too prickly this morning.

If Yao had noticed something was off, he simply ignored it with a shrug before he turned on his heel to make his way out of the editorial wing. "Whenever you are ready, Francis," he called over his shoulder. "You remember that Mr. Romulus does not like to be kept waiting so don't blame me if he's in a bad mood."

Muttering what was presumably a curse under his breath, Francis released a heavy sigh before he finally retreated from his position against the desk, his hand reaching out to brush across the back of Arthur's hand as he stood upright.

Startled by the sudden contact, Arthur retracted his hand quickly, almost as if from a burn, before he glanced up into the man's face in spite of how much effort he had put in to suppress it, Arthur could not stop the shudder which ran down his spine at the fleeting touch.

"Á plus tard," was all what Francis had simply said to him with that same small smile he had given him back in Bond Street Station yesterday, before he finally turned on his heel and left the room.

Arthur watched his boss's retreating back. The previous irritation which had been tugging at his very being had now dissipated and a new yet strangely alien emotion had now filled in that void to replace it.

It was frustration.

"Arthur."

He looked up from his desk to see Francis, looking slightly flushed in the cheeks, as he made his way towards him in quick strides with those long legs of his. Arthur pushed his blank notepad and his fifth cup of coffee to the side, trying his best to maintain a straight face in front of his boss. In spite of being seated at his desk for most of day, he hadn't gotten any work done regardless of the pile of folders which Yao had unceremoniously dumped on his desk before he left on another 'emergency'. Although his hangover was already gone, he pursed his lips into a thin line to hide the look of escalating annoyance on his face as he rose from his seat to greet his boss in a more respectable manner that he had this morning.

"Mr. Bonnefoy," he answered in a stilted voice, raising his brow as the man reached over to collect a few files from Yao's desk before he turned to him with a small smile. "…sir?"

"Pardon avec moi, mon cher," he started off rather flippantly which had Arthur frowning in disapproval. "This is rather unusual but I am afraid I will need to ask you to give me a little bit of your time. I need your assistance with…well, une crise."

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the unexpected request. "But what about Yao?"

Francis gave him an amused look. "What about him? Ah…you are dating him? Well now, I didn't think you'd-"

"Wha-! M-Mr. Bonnefoy! Just what are you-!" he hissed, eyes wide in shock. For some reason, at that moment then, the image of Feliks had suddenly popped into his mind in surprising clarity, his words from the night before echoing through his head like some outrageously catchy tune which refused to leave. What, did Francis think he was a poof as well? Was this the underlying reason why all the women he had dated in the past dumped him? Because they all thought he was gay? Bollocks! He was 'wild boy' Arthur fucking Kirkland! He once had a reputation of using women as if they were fucking disposable cameras, for god's sake!

"Oh? Am I incorrect?"

"Incorrect? Mr. Bonnefoy, you just assumed-!"

"Francis, Arthur. Francis."

"Mr. Bonnefoy, don't even think-!"

"Oh, we really must get going if we are to reach there in time," Francis interrupted, glancing at his wristwatch before he cast Arthur a smile. "I will wait for you downstairs in the lobby then. Bring all your things. I am not sure how long the session will take."

"Wait a minute, hold on. Just what am I supposed to…" Arthur watched in dismay as his boss left the room and with an exasperated sigh, he gathered his belongings and pulled on his coat before he quickly chased after him. Although he was thoroughly confused by the sudden request for help from Francis (he was nothing but an editorial assistant after all) he couldn't help but feel a little flattered, perhaps even somewhat glad to be the only one not doing anything in the office that day. That he happened to be the one who was being relied on by Francis. He felt important funnily enough and for once in his life, he actually felt the urge to perform well in his job.

He met with up Francis inside the lift, just as the doors were sliding shut and he had managed to hop in on time. After releasing a heavy sigh, Arthur glanced up to see Francis looking at him with those dazzling eyes, the dark blue hues gleaming with mirth under the fluorescent light of the elevator. "That was quick. Were you afraid that I might leave you behind?" Francis chuckled.

Arthur rolled his eyes, scoffing. "Of course not. I just don't want to waste time," he said and it was only then did he realise that it was just the two of them inside the lift.

"Yours or mine?" Francis asked without missing a beat and that made Arthur raise his brow.

"Does it really matter?"

"Perhaps not."

Arthur stared at him. What was that supposed to mean?

The elevator ride seemed far too short for Arthur's liking as the doors soon slid open and Francis quickly stepped out before he could speak. Clicking his tongue in slight annoyance, Arthur hopped out of the car to follow suit before he cast a quick glance to the clock which hung above the receptionist's desk. About an hour until office hours ends. It was no wonder Francis asked him to bring all his belongings. He followed after his boss out of the building, hoisting his messenger bag across his shoulder a little more comfortably as he trailed after Francis, crossing the street to where a sleek black two-seater Audi waited and gleamed proudly against the bleak white-grey backdrop of Broadwick Street.

Arthur stopped in his tracks and he stared at Francis, who had coolly unlocked his vehicle and opened the passenger door open for him. "What are you doing?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice, finding slight offense in the gallantness of his action.

"I do not want to waste time," Francis said and he smiled cheekily at how he had used Arthur's own words against him. "Now, will you get in or will I have to tell the printing house that you were the cause of our delay?"

Arthur flushed red at this but he grudgingly complied nonetheless, albeit a little stiffly, frowning at how Francis had gently closed the door after him. It was almost as if the man was treating him like a woman on her first date. His frown deepened. That was absurd. It wasn't as if Francis was really that into him, anyway. It didn't take long for Francis to climb into the driver's seat and after revving up the engine, he soon pulled out into the street before joining the cars which were lined up along Regent Street. "Seatbelt, mon chou. We don't want any accidents now, yes?" he said with a small wink.

"You know, I'd really appreciate it if you stopped calling me too many strange names," Arthur grumbled as he fastened his safety belt on and kept his eyes on the congested street before them. He fidgeted in the leather seat, unable to relax as he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that Francis was far too close to him. Granted that this wasn't the first time they were alone together but it was one thing being in office with Francis while sitting in a car with him was an entirely different matter. There was no place to run, no room to make plausible excuses to escape.

"Oh? Does the name chou displease you? I thought it suits you very well."

"What, vegetable?"

"No no, vegetable is légume. Cabbage is chou."

"It's the same thing. It's not very flattering now, is it? To call someone cabbage. It's almost derogatory."

"N'importe quoi! Oh Arthur you think too negatively. In French, to be called chou is very special! C'est une déclaration d'amour!" Francis trilled as he glanced over to him with a small flirtatious smile, steering his car smoothly into the right lane which led up to Piccadilly Circus.

Arthur's brows furrowed as he kept his eyes trained on a particular advertisement which was plastered across the side of a double-decker bus. It said 'Some people are gay. Get over it.'

"You can't be serious," he muttered.

"Hm? You question my feelings?"

"No, I was just-" Arthur began, raising his hand to gesticulate towards the bus when he stopped short upon realising what he had inadvertently implied. His eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, no, I didn't mean-"

"Comment vont tes amours?" Francis suddenly asked as he took a turn towards Leicester Square once the cars in their lane began to move.

"Now wait just a tick there, Mr. Bonnefoy-"

"Francis, mon chou."

"-With all due respect, Mr. Bonnefoy, although you are my boss, you certainly have no right whatsoever to start prying into my personal life. Because I very well do not with yours," Arthur hissed tensely.

"Oh but you really don't need to, mon chou," said Francis. "You are already a part of it."

For some unfathomable reason, that day seemed to be a day of firsts because at that precise moment and after playing a game he hadn't known to be participating in up until now, Arthur had come to realise that he had been defeated by a bloody Frenchman. He was rendered absolutely speechless by the sudden declaration and after dropping a stupid pause (by which he spent those gruelling minutes groping for a clever comeback) he fidgeted in his seat and kept quiet, opting to brood on with thoughts which were fuelled with denial.

Francis, on the other hand, simply carried on driving with a debonair smile.

After casting a few awkward smiles to the hotel guests who leisurely strolled past him, Arthur quickly made his way over to where Francis stood waiting and he grabbed him by the arm, squeezing it harshly. "You cheat! You deceived me!" mouthed Arthur, once he deemed themselves to be out of earshot from the wealthy patrons and the set of crisply dressed bellboys who swept through the lobby like electronically charged toy soldiers, pushing their respective trolleys full of luggage along.

"Non," Francis chuckled, looking far too amused for Arthur's liking as he reached up to tap the side of his nose. "J'ai du nez."

"Wha…you said we were going to the printing house, not the fucking Savoy."

"Yes, I apologise for that, but they can wait another day. Now, we eat. I have promised to take you out for dinner, after all," said Francis, not looking sorry at all as he slipped out of Arthur's vice grip to make his way deeper into the hotel.

Arthur stared after him, looking positively livid and disorientated at the same time by the blithe disregard Francis had towards his discomfort of feeling very out of place in this establishment. "Mr. Bonnefoy!" he hissed, cringing at how unexpectedly loud his voice was as it drew the attention of a few guests who were sitting not too far from where he stood. He gave them a sheepish look, bobbing his head ruefully before he turned to the direction of where his boss was walking and stiffly followed after him. This was unbelievable. To be inordinately seduced in the office at the promise of a dinner was one thing but to have been hauled off to a ridiculously expensive restaurant for said mere dinner without consent or reciprocating questionable feelings was just downright showy and daft. Was Francis really that into him to make him spend so much money on one dinner? No, the biggest question was why. Why was Francis Bonnefoy into him – dull, professionally stagnant and a man who has been doomed to be alone and caterpillar-browed for life – in the first place anyway?

Spotting Francis standing by the stylishly chic entrance of the Savoy Grill, conversing with the waiter who stood by stiffly tucked in his immaculate uniform, Arthur quickened his steps."Mr. Bonnefoy, would you pleas-oof!"

Apparently, in his haste to convince his boss to drop the dinner entirely, he had accidently walked into someone who had been heading the same direction. Crap. "Oh god, sorry. I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking at where I was going," he immediately apologised with a bob of his head – a thing he had picked from Kiku without realising it.

"No, no, it's mine, really. I mean I space out a lot too so it's no big deal, man," came a distinctively airy voice and an all too (oddly) familiar rumble of a chuckle which followed after it. One which was pleasant yet decisively unpleasant at the same time.

Arthur blinked at this, puzzled with how his chest had tightened for some reason before he finally willed himself to lift his eyes to meet a pair of bright blue, blue ones.

Almost instantly, his mind flashed back to two weeks ago. To the Christmas reunion party hosted by Feliciano and Ludwig. To the sea of old, familiar faces. To the nine flutes of champagne. To that one exceptionally rude American who wore a too small jumper with a hideous alien motif.

Arthur's eyes widened as he stared up into the very face of said rude American in astonishment.

"You…what the fuck are you doing here?" he blurted out.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Rude American - Alvin was it? – was beaming at him and contrary to Arthur, he seemed rather delighted by the unexpected meeting. "Howdy there, Austin. It's been a while."

Quick notes: It took some time to write this up because I had assignments to finish up during my Easter break. I hope it was worth the wait. It took a lot of energy and a few sleepless nights to get this chapter going.

(1)Initially I had opted to use Revolution bar in Leicester Square for the friends' reunion but whilst on my journey to locating Shaftesbury Avenue during my break in London, I stumbled across this neat little bar called Pix in Neal Street, near Covent Garden. So to walk from Leicester Square station to Neal Street would take about 5-8 minutes, again depending on the speed you walk and if you know where you're going in the first place. (2) About Gilbert's hair. Now I am well aware of how many people portrayed him as an 'albino' but I am not particularly fond of this idea because he isn't. I had a look at Himaruya's art of Prussia and am more attracted to the concept of him having platinum blonde hair. But having said that, I couldn't resist the idea of him dyeing his own hair to an 'icy white' colour simply because he is just that awesome. So yes, here, have a white-haired Gilbert everyone. (3) If you hadn't guessed it, the little yellow bird mascot which Gilbert adores is Kotori (or Gilbird, as many western fans call him)! Think of Kotori as that world's 'Rilakkuma' or 'Hello Kitty' – and like Rilakkuma, Kotori is a huge thing in Asia but not so well known in the West (unless you're a huge fan of Asian 'kawaii' things) so Gilbert gets his merchandise through Kiku. (4) About the advertisement on the double-decker bus, this really is true. During my week in London, I had spotted several buses which carried this advertisement around. It wasn't anything flashy – it had a plain black and grey background, I think, with the message printed in red…? I can't remember. ^^;

Translation:

Schuwl (German) – loosely translates to gay or homosexual (my apologies, I've never studied German before so I'm sorry if I've used it wrongly)

Wichser (German) – loosely translates to wanker (again, apologies if this word has been incorrectly used)

Ça va mon chou? (French) – 'How are you, my darling?' Although, 'chou' as I understand it, literally translates to cabbage unless you use as an endearment to a loved one.

une crise (French) – a crisis

poof (British slang) – gay, homosexual man

N'importe quoi (French) – Rubbish!/Nonsense!

C'est une déclaration d'amour (French) – 'It's a declaration of love'.

Comment vont tes amours (French) – 'How's your love life?'

J'ai du nez (French) – This is more a French gesture, where the speaker taps the side of his/her nose whilst saying this phrase to indicate that he/she is sharp or clever. I'm not sure if I've used it correctly but I hope Francis's message has come across.