Chapter six – Shy to Bitches in five minutes

One thing about September is that you can never be sure if it's going to be warm or cold. Technically it's still summer in September, but in never really feels like that. Actually, it'd been autumn for over a week in Goverek, but with the low clouds, frost in the morning, icicles lining windowsills and a chilly breeze to meet you the second you stepped outdoors, it felt more like the dead of winter. Of course, Britain being Britain, the weather was generally a lot worse than what a lot of people were used to from their home countries. Even after living on the dismal little island for years, Antonio, Feliciano, Lovino, and all the other boys who were used to their warm climates still wanted to die in the later months of the year. It was just too cold.

The Kirkland brothers, though, were very used to this weather. Alastair had been seen going for an early-morning jog in only a t-shirt. Ironically, no one was really bothered by him wearing a t-shirt – the thing they couldn't get over was Alastair going for an early-morning jog. Arthur was also quite fond of the cold weather, and had a little collection of scarves and gloves he kept under his bed for such days. The twins couldn't wait for snow, as you couldn't have two mischievous twins that didn't like snow. Even Peter was counting down the days until Christmas, which made everyone melt a little bit inside at his cute attitude. Owain was the only one of the brothers that didn't like being in the cold. Though the cold weather was a good excuse to huddle up with Francis in a big, fluffy blanket in the candle-light and watch old movies.

Alfred didn't like cold one bit.

Usually this wasn't much of a problem for him – back in America he could just stay inside. The worst of his weather had been over the winter break, so he could stay in his lovely warm bed, and not even know about the Arctic weather outside his window. Sadly though, in Britain it seemed the cold weather came early. Last year it'd been quite a warm winter, and hadn't snowed once. That was something a lot of students were very pissed off about – some even went on protests outside the grounds. It did seem a little pointless to protest at the sky, though, they soon realised, and walked back inside, tails between their legs. Of course it'd been the twins who'd lead the protests. On the other hand, no snow for Alfred meant big smiles and very happy moods.

This year, though, Arthur was insisting on doing winter-y things. Going ice skating, picking chestnuts, going Christmas present shopping (in September!?) and even went so far to bake a Yule log and some mince pies. The plan had seemed like a good one, and Alfred was looking forward to the baking, until halfway through he remembered that Arthur could not cook. This baking spree had caused a lot of stomach-related casualties in the dormitories for those stupid (and unfortunate) enough to actually eat food that'd been near Arthur.

The 1st of October was the coldest day yet, something that put Arthur in a very good mood, and Alfred in a very bad one. Luckily, Arthur remembered Alfred's hatred of the cold weather, and decided to be kind to his boyfriend, and, taking extra care not to wake him up when climbing out of the covers, the Brit got changed very quickly and went into the kitchen to make himself breakfast and a cup of tea. Arthur quickly downed the food, and then went back into the bedroom to pick out one of his many scarves and meet Alastair for an early walk. His brother had been scarily hung-up on early-morning fitness sessions recently, something that both made Arthur worry a little, but also feel good that Alastair was pushing himself. The worry came from the fact that usually when Alastair was trying to do something that pushed him, it usually meant he was trying to impress someone, and that never usually went down well.

Arthur then had a cute idea. Before leaving, he ripped a page out of a nearby notebook, and went into the kitchen, cutting the paper into a little heart. Grabbing a red pen, Arthur wrote in the middle of the heart a little 'I love you' message, and then stuck the heart in the gap between the frames of the mirror, knowing Alfred would see it there. The Brit then crept over to their make-shift double-bed, and from their mountain of cushions and pillows that dominated one side of the bed he pulled out the bear that Alfred had given to him a year or so ago. Arthur smiled at the nameless bear, remembering how adorable Alfred had been when giving it to him all that time ago. He took the bear, and gently lifting up the bed covers, placed it in the nest of Alfred's arms, so he'd see it when he woke up. Arthur had half a mind to even go as far to get a hot water bottle and numerous other items that would warm Alfred up, but the clock reminded him that if he was any longer here, Alastair wouldn't be very happy.

Sighing, Arthur smiled, whispering a goodbye to the very asleep Alfred, and closed the door quietly behind him. Arthur was not happy with his relationship at the minute. He knew that when they'd started dating they'd been too young, and that was probably why their relationship was dying now, rather than blossoming. It really was starting to worry Arthur if he and Alfred were ever actually going to make it work between them. He knew that, because of his insecurities, their relationship was going to be hard enough to save – Google had told him that much. But there had to be another way to save a relationship, surely?

Sadly, Arthur knew there'd be someone who would be perfect to ask. That exact person had helped him with relationship problems. The trouble was bucking up the courage to ignore his pride and knock on the door of Francis Bonnefoy and beg for help in his failing relationship.

After my walk, Arthur promised himself after my job with Alastair, I will forget about all pride-issues, and go and ask for Francis' help. He'll give it to me, of course. After all, the way things are heading, he'll my brother-in-law in a few years. Wait. That is if they allow gay marriages in the future. I hope they do… it'd be really nice to marry Alfred. That's not important right now, Arthur!

"You're late," Alastair glared at his brother as Arthur approached, "I take the liberty of getting here really, really early – and you know I suck with mornings – and you have the nerve to be late?" luckily, it seemed Alastair was too tired to get seriously pissed with his little brother.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry – you know I'm terrible with mornings too, though," Arthur pouted, "So where are we walking?"

"I don't give a fuck, I just want to walk somewhere," Alastair said stonily, not attempting to mask his terrible mood.

"Fine, fine, we may as well walk around the grounds. I haven't had chance to explore this place in a while because of all the coursework…" Arthur sighed. It seemed like such a waste to live right in the middle of god knows how many acres of land and never get a chance to see it all.

"Lead the way, princess." Alastair glared at his brother, following Arthur when the blonde set off in the direction of where the duck-pond was rumoured to be.

"Don't call me princess." Arthur scowled, "If you're going to give me a royal title as a nickname, I'd much prefer prince. Owain's the princess of the family, anyway."

Alastair glared at Arthur, "Don't say that, you know he hates being called feminine things."

"So that makes it okay for you to call me princess?" Arthur said, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh come on, you don't actually look like a girl! You can tell you're a guy, but hell, Owain is much more feminine than most girls in Coverack," Alastair jolted a finger over in the direction of the all-girl's school.

"That's only because he looks after himself. He has soft skin, long eyelashes, quite long hair which he sometimes pins back with cute little hair accessories…" Arthur stopped himself, "Okay he is pretty girly. But don't call me 'princess'!"

"Fine, fine! If I'd known you'd kick up this much of a fuss I'd have never given you a harmless nickname!" Alastair growled in frustration.

Arthur felt a smile play about his lips, "We're still arguing even at this age…" he giggled slightly, "I remember the first thing you said to me was something like…"

"'Why're your eyebrows so big?'" the two said together, and then looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Then you told me that mine were just as big as yours," Alastair smiled, "You should've stayed that small – you were cute back then. Like a little bunny rabbit."

"Personally I'm glad you grew up – you never suited being small. I remember having a dream once that you had fox ears and a tail and came to chase me through a big forest…" Arthur shuddered, "Scary nightmare."

"I do like being the stars of nightmares," Alastair winked playfully. Arthur liked his brother when they weren't arguing. But soon their rather pointless conversation fell into the awkward-silence point in it's cycle, and the two just walked in silence.

The silence lasted as long as Arthur could bear it, and soon the Brit found himself asking, "So… have you got your eye on any girls?" he paused, "… guys?"

Alastair laughed wryly, "Hah, d'ya think I'd be wasting my mornings going on pointless walks if I'd got myself a lass? Not likely. As for guys, well, they can go fuck themselves."

"Pansexual or bisexual?" Arthur asked.

"The fuck?" Alastair narrowed his eyes.

"You – are you pansexual or bisexual?" Arthur asked again, sighing at Alastair's vacant expression, "Bisexual is where you're attracted to guys and girls, yeah? So you could hit on a guy if you were bisexual. Pansexual is where you just don't care what someone is, as long as you love them, understand?"

Alastair narrowed his eyes in though, "Yeah, I think I get it…" he paused, "Pansexual. I think."

Arthur nodded, "I see…" then, changing the subject, "How's Elizabeth?"

"Oh God, not her." Alastair groaned, looking about ready to rip his eyes out.

"You complain about her so much, but you always go crawling back to her… what is it with you and her?" Arthur chuckled, not meaning anything hurtful with his words.

Alastair simply shrugged, completely defeated, "I don't even know. I'm not lying when I say I can't stand her – I really, really can't… but I don't know… It's like she's some sort of insane drug. You know those drugs that are fucking awesome when you first try them, but soon they get pretty sucky, but by that time you're already hooked on them, so you have to keep taking them, even though they make you feel like shit? It's like that."

"You need to go to rehab…" Arthur smiled half-heartedly, "You should talk to Owain."

"Fuck no." Alastair growled.

"Why're you avoiding him? I thought you two sorted things out? Isn't it a bit childish to just sulk?" Arthur pointed out.

Shaking his head, Alastair sighed, "I just don't want to ruin things for him…"

"Oh no, now don't go pulling the 'I'm such a charitable person' card! We both know you're not that selfless – you're just avoiding him for your sake!"

"Thanks, Arthur. Love you too." Alastair sighed, "But you're right. I'm a selfish bastard."

"Well, at least you can actually admit it… Not a lot of people can – so congratulations, I guess…"

"We should head back," Alastair quickly changed the subject, flipping up his phone to check the time, "The bell for form's gunna go in half an hour."

"Shit. And we've walked pretty far…" Arthur sighed, mentally postponing his talking session with Francis until after school.

"Race?" Alastair offered childishly.

"You're on." Arthur grinned at his brother, and the two took off towards the castle.

"Arthur…?" Alfred muttered, waking up very cold, and feeling weirdly lonely. The American had been awoken by a very unpleasant and confusing dream in which Francis had crowned himself King of Winter, and decided to make Arthur his queen, and Alfred was forced to watch the both of them flirt while polishing their shoes… or something. It was a little un-nerving that Arthur was absent from his side; Alfred was happily used to waking up either in Arthur's arms, or holding Arthur in his arms. Instead he had a bear. He was about to throw the stuffed animal back in the pile that was slowly stealing all of their sleeping space, until he realised just which bear it was.

It was the friend bear, Alfred grinned to himself, snuggling it to his cheek. Yes, he called it the friend bear, because it gave people friends. Alfred didn't care that it was lame and dorky, it was still cute to him.

The American rolled out of bed, not liking the idea of a whole day of lessons ahead of him. He frowned – you shouldn't have to have school on such cold days. It'll… freeze your brain cells or something. He shivered when the cover came off him, letting out all of the heat that'd been collected overnight. What he wouldn't give for five more minutes under those toasty sheets…

Sadly, duty called, and Alfred knew full well that he was already pushing being late, and another minute wasting time would add to the chance of Miss Héderváry making him scrape all the ice off her windows of her car for the rest of the week. She and Roderich had decided to live back at their own house, so they'd been driving to work, rather than living in the building like the rest of the teachers. They'd decided this would be 'for the sake of the baby', though Alfred wasn't too sure how that would help a baby.

Come to think of it, Alfred didn't know a thing about babies. They weren't taught childcare in their school, as they were all boys, who, at this age, didn't give a damn about childbirth or pregnancy. It did seem pretty pointless to teach childcare to a bunch of boys, the majority of which were gay, when they'd probably never used the information.

Alfred wondered into the bathroom, having a very quick, very warm shower. By the time he'd dried his hair roughly with a towel and gone into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, the American saw Arthur sitting at the table, nibbling on a piece of toast, a cup of tea in the other hand. Alfred smiled when he noticed Arthur had made him some toast too. Aww, he'd even cut the crusts off! How nice of him.

"It's still warm," Arthur smiled, "Morning."

"Thanks, Artie!" Alfred grinned, blowing Arthur a kiss and digging into the very warm toast, shivering at how delicious it was. Arthur's toast was always the best – Alfred had tried to make it exactly the same, but it never did taste quite right. Toast was something Arthur could make, apparently.

"You went out with Alastair, then?" Alfred smiled.

Arthur looked up from the book he was flicking through, "I did. It was quite a nice walk. A little too much talking for my liking, though. It's not as cold as it was yesterday," Arthur said, "Though the wind does have a bit of a chill to it – I'd bring that scarf you bought the other day."

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. Last night he'd gone out and bought himself a luxuriously warm red, blue and white scarf. It reminded him of back home in America – he'd had a scarf just like it when he was little.

"Well, the bell's about to go. You coming?" Arthur got up, placing a bookmark in his book and snapping it shut, "Bag? Coat? Scarf?"

Alfred chuckled slightly at Arthur's checklist, "My ultra-sexy-cute-amazing boyfriend?"

"Check," Arthur squeezed Alfred's hand, letting go to put his mug in the sink, and then linking their arms, "Though I don't think it makes sense to say I'm cute and sexy. I think you can only be one or the other… Unless you're a seductive five year old…?"

"Pedophile! Pedophile! I'm living with a pedophile! Someone save me!" Alfred called, running out the door, waving his arms about.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur followed, checking his reflection in the mirror. With a sigh, Arthur realised that Alfred hadn't seen his subtly-placed love note. Or if he had, he hadn't said anything about it. A little reluctantly, Arthur took the heart from the place it'd been wedged it in the mirror and screwed it up into a little ball, throwing it in the wastepaper basket on his way out to follow Alfred.

"And that, mon cher, is the secret to my abnormally large—"

"Francis? Can I have a word?" Arthur swiftly interrupted, pulling Francis away from his… very engaging conversation with Owain and Matthew, both looking a little scared, a little bit embarrassed, and more than a little jealous. It was in the middle of Science, and Professor Wang had gone down to the P.E. department to collect some heavy equipment, and had taken Alfred, now one of the strongest in the class, to help him. Arthur decided he'd been blessed with a pretty good opportunity to discuss relationship problems with Francis.

"Mon petite Arthur! What on earth can I do for you?" Francis stood up as if trying to emphasise the point that he'd grown an awful lot more than Arthur had over the summer. He hadn't stopped rubbing it in Arthur's face ever since term had started.

"I need you to come over here." Arthur narrowed his eyes, grabbing the French teen by the sleeve of his blazer, and dragging him less-than-civilly over to a deserted corner of the classroom they were in.

Back at where Francis had been discussing impressively sized body-parts with his boyfriend and… adulterer (?) the two were left in an awkward silence. Owain had the pleasure of shattering it.

"He's mine, you know." Owain growled, shooting daggers at Matthew.

Matthew looked up from his phone where he'd been pretending to text, "What're you talking about?" Owain could hear the very slight stammer in the Canadian's weak voice.

"I know you've probably done something to him – I don't know, attempted to seduce him or whatever," Owain leaned closer with every word, "But I know Francis – I know he'll never give into your tricks, so you can just give up. You had your chance with him, and you blew it – you went out with Gilbert instead. Now he's mine."

"Well, from what I can gather, you had your chance with him too, and you blew it," Matthew snarled, "But that didn't stop you from swooping up like a greedy vulture and, when he was most vulnerable, you captured him again."

"I did not 'capture' Francis! You just liked the feeling of getting to choose between people! You liked the fact you were being noticed for once in your pointless life, and you want that powerful feeling around you again. But you need to wake up and realise that Francis asked me out."

Matthew laughed dryly, "Only because you asked him to ask you out!"

Owain cursed mentally – Francis had promised not to tell anyone about that! "It doesn't change the fact that I'm the one kissing him and you're not."

"Oh really? I wouldn't be so sure about that…" Matthew smirked, suddenly regretting his words.

Luckily, Owain didn't take him too seriously, "Yeah, yeah, whatever you want me to believe, Canadian."

"You place too much faith in your boyfriend, you know…" Matthew drawled, "Perhaps you don't know him as well as you claim to."

"Whatever! I've known Francis a lot longer than you." Well… that was a bit of a lie, "Get over yourself, slut."

That did it. Matthew gritted his teeth, and raised his hand for a killer slap. Owain would regret that!

"So, mon cher, what can I do for you?"

"I hate having to ask you this," again, Arthur added in his head, "But I need help."

"Well we all knew that, but sadly I'm neither a brain surgeon nor a therapist. Try asking Feliciano." Francis turned, grinning to himself, knowing that Arthur would be extremely pissed at that.

As Francis had predicted, Arthur was indeed gritting his teeth, though he managed to hold his annoyance in, "Shut it and get back over here. I need help with my relationship."

"You should have told me, mon cher, I'm not a mind reader, and, well, we all know you're a little…" Francis tapped the side of his head, motioning that Arthur was insane, "But I can see why you need help with your relationship, too… You're feeling insecure? Like Alfred's not really interested any more?"

Arthur nodded, biting his cheek nervously, "Yeah… what should I do?"

"Mon cher, there is not a lot I can offer you. I hate to tell you – actually that's a lie; I love to tell you that these are all your problems. Only you can fix them. I don't really know what to do; I've never felt insecure about myself. I'd tell you to go and talk to Matthew, but I don't think he'd be much help, as apparently he and Gilbert are falling just as quickly as you and Alfred."

"Thanks, Francis," Arthur sighed sarcastically, though it didn't have it's usual bite to it – he just sounded tired, upset and a little bit scared, "I knew I could rely on you to enlighten me," he then added in his normal tone, without a hint of sarcasm, "Thanks, Francis. I really do appreciate you trying."

Francis watched as Arthur walked away, suddenly feeling very guilty, "Arthur, wait."

Arthur turned around, an eyebrow raised.

"I think I might be able to help you." Francis said seriously, "Come here. Though, as I said before – I've never been in this situation before. I'm just improvising and guessing what might happen."

"Oh? Go on…" Arthur said while walking back, sounding genuinely interested.

"So… you feel like Alfred is loosing interest in you? You want him back in your arms, but you're not sure how to do it?"

"Exactly."

"Well, mon cher, if I was you – and I'm very glad I'm not – then I would just make yourself more interesting. Find new things to talk about, try and make things less of a routine, and more of a 'spontaneous rush of love', understand? Kiss him first thing in the morning, or just randomly in the middle of class. Never let go of his hand for your life. I know many, many people that say hand-holding is one of the most romantic things about a relationship. Just remember, it's not really the big things that matter – it's lots of little small things all added together to make one huge block of successful love!" Francis drew the block in the air with his fingers as if Arthur didn't know what a block looked like.

"I tried that, though. It didn't work – he doesn't notice them…" this made Arthur both smile fondly at how adorably oblivious Alfred was, but also give that fond smile a hint of remorse and sadness, as it really did hurt when Alfred was so oblivious he couldn't see the obvious – for example; their failing relationship.

"Well make him notice them, mon cher." Francis advised, smiling; "Now we'd best return to Owain and Matthew, non?"

Arthur nodded, and the two of them turned, just in time to see the beginnings of Owain and Matthew's 'fight'. Matthew was raising his hand to slap Owain. Matthew was too slow however, and Owain jumped out of the way, and slapped Matthew right back in the face.

If you listed the things that boys schools missed out on, the most obvious choice would be 'girls', 'boobs', or 'pretty things'. Though, one thing that people often don't think about is one very amusing thing also quite high up on that list. Bitch fights. And Goverek Boy's School was lucky enough to witness one of those rare phenomenons today.

Before the class knew it, Matthew and Owain were attacking each other right at the front of the class, squealing insults at each other just like you'd expect two teenage girls to. They were doing quite a good job, too. Everyone crowded round the two of them, no one quite sure what to say, until Lovino started the predictable cheering of 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' and so on, until the entire class – even Francis, who was shut up quickly when Arthur elbowed him in the rib – was cheering on Owain and Matthew's hilarious, bordering terrifying fight. Everyone was hungry for blood, especially the two usually very respectable, very shy, and very quiet boys.

"That is enough!" Professor Wang entered, slamming down a collection of books he'd carried in, and then helping Alfred, who was carrying a very heavy looking, complicated piece of equipment, through the door, before swiftly standing in between Owain and Matthew, who were now concentrating on ripping each other's long, blonde hair out, and stopped the fight immediately.

"Everyone, sit down. You're meant to be a civilised group of fourteen to sixteen year olds, but when I come back into my class after nipping downstairs for twenty minutes, I find this?" Professor Wang had hold of Owain and Matthew by the collars of their blazers, holding them apart, though they were still trying to claw at each other, and if you listened carefully you could hear very softly whispered curse words flying from one to the other.

"You two, you're coming with me to my office. As for you lot," the Professor eyed his class, narrowing his eyes, "I'll call for Coach Braginski to come and keep an eye on you while I'm gone. I can tell you for a fact I've never seen such disgraceful behaviour! Perhaps I might understand if you were all in common schools, but this is one of the best private schools in the entire United Kingdom – this behaviour is not acceptable!"

The class stayed silent, looking up at their teacher. Half of the class, the more 'rebellious' students, were trying to will themselves not to burst out into fits of laugher, while the other half of the class, the civilised students, were seriously regretting their behaviour.

"Jesus…" Alfred muttered, sliding into the seat next to Arthur, "What did I miss?"

Arthur grinned a little smile at Alfred, whispering back, "One of the most hilarious fights I've ever seen," he shrugged, "I think Owain called Matthew a slut or something… Francis, d'you know why it broke out?"

Francis looked over at Alfred and Arthur, smiling smoothly, "I know I'm brilliant, but sadly I don't know that. Not many people saw the beginning of the fight," he shrugged nonchalantly. But whenever Arthur and Alfred turned their backs on his to talk about something else, Francis bit his tongue worriedly. He knew exactly why that fight had broken out, and he knew it was his fault.

A/N

I've been wanting to write about Matthew and Owain fighting for a while X'D it was fun :3 I love it when the shy characters turn out the be the deadliest. XD
And don't think we're out of the dark with Arthur and Alfred yet, dearies XD this it only the beginning of their problems. /insert evil laugh/
Thank you for your kind reviews/faves/follows, guys! :D free invisible cookies for whoever reviews! XD
Love you all ^^