Chapter seven – Woodlouse

Arthur was very pleased with himself. He sat grinning to himself on his and Alfred's bed, admiring his work. This plan was going to work – it'd be one of the most successful things he'd ever done! He was definitely impressed with what a bit of pink stationary, scissors, glue and few other inanimate objects could do when you put your mind to it.

Now he just had to wait for Alfred to wake up and his plan would be complete!

Arthur wasn't the most patient soul in the universe. Actually, it always used to be him that slept in, while Alfred was pained with waiting for him to wake up. But now it had reversed, like a lot of things in their relationship, and now Arthur found himself resisting the urge to poke Alfred's soft looking cheeks.

So instead, he took to admiring his own work.

Arthur had taken Francis' advice to the max. Francis had told him in his annoying French accent 'he needed to be more interesting', and that their relationship needed to be more 'spontaneous'. Well right here was interesting and spontaneous. It was subtle too, but not as subtle as Arthur's last plan of hiding little notes everywhere. Hopefully Alfred would notice this. Arthur had gone round all the things he knew Alfred used daily – the microwave, his spray, his iPod and school books – you name it, Arthur had suck a little note or heart on to each object, with a single word. Alone, the word would be something nice like 'perfect' or 'mine', but if you took each of the sticky notes and arranged them in order and added in a few connective words, a message would be clear up to Alfred of 'Everything about you is perfect, you'll be mine and I'll be yours forever. I love you.'

Quite pleased with himself, Arthur folded his arms seeing no way how this plan could go wrong. He'd even clipped a rose from a bush out in the school gardens and scattered the petals around Alfred's pillows. He'd made Alfred breakfast, and Arthur had decided that the minute Alfred awoke; he'd be tackled with a good morning kiss. Everything would be perfect!

… That is if Alfred was ever going to wake up.

Arthur decided to stop torturing himself and walked through to the kitchen again. He'd been up since six, and it'd only taken him half an hour to make and place everything – he'd thought it would've taken at least an hour. Alfred got up at half seven usually, though sometimes it was pushed to quarter to, or even sometimes eight. That meant Arthur had about an hour to kill. Of course he'd already gotten ready for school – he was ready to walk out of the door, in fact. Arthur decided he may as well do something a little productive with his time, so he sat down at the table and began looking through his science book, trying to memorise names of cells.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, it was five past eight and Alfred still wasn't up.

At this point, Arthur had stopped watching the clock – he was too absorbed in his revision. Of course this was a little bit of a problem. Alfred never set an alarm – he relied on Arthur to wake him up. But now with Arthur in a world of his own and not noticing the time, Alfred was left sleeping an awful lot longer than he should've been.

It was twenty to nine by the time Arthur looked up at the clock. Blinking a few times at the time the hands showed, and checking on his own watch on his phone, Arthur slapped a palm up to his forehead, groaning, already running through to the bedroom for Alfred to wake up.

"Alfie, Alfie, we're going to be late. Like super-mega-late. You need to get up right now," Arthur shook the American awake, begging that this would be a morning where he woke up and was ready for action, rather than a morning where it took him fifteen minutes to get out of bed.

"Artie? What? What's going on…?" the American mumbled sleepily.

Arthur didn't answer – he was too busy rummaging for Alfred's glasses. He shoved them on Alfred's nose, and then gave an explanation, "I got caught up in revision – I'm sorry! I forgot to wake you up. You've got fifteen minutes to get ready."

Alfred swore in frustration, leaping up from the bed, suddenly wide awake. Without another word he swooped into the bathroom, brushing his teeth while climbing into his uniform.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Arthur rubbed his temple with his forefingers. It'd been his fault this was happening now – if he'd kept an eye on the time, this could've been avoided. He knew something had to go wrong with his plan – something always went wrong, but he really wished it hadn't been something as big as this. Alfred probably wouldn't even notice the little hearts and pointless nothings Arthur had stuck up everywhere.

Alfred - having been woken up in a rush and in the middle of a very good dream – really wasn't in the best of moods – anything anyone said to him would have the risk of ending in shouting and violence. That was a bit of an overstatement, but Alfred did feel about ready to punch something as he brushed his teeth.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Alfred called through to Arthur. He didn't mean to sound so mean about the way he said it – he'd really just been curious! But because of his bad mood, the words naturally came out like he was accusing Arthur of something.

Arthur blinked a few times, "I-I'm sorry, Alfred, I got a little distracted with something…" he sounded more than a little unsure about Alfred's tone, perhaps even a little afraid.

This would've been a perfect opportunity for Alfred to say 'no, no, it's fine – I should buy myself an alarm clock. I'm sorry I was so rude a second ago,' or something to that affect. However, his cocky, stupid mouth took over and said instead, "Jeeze, Arthur, it's not that hard to wake someone up in the morning!"

Arthur visibly flinched, "I know, really, Alfred, I'm sorry."

For some reason this annoyed Alfred even further. Just the fact knowing that Arthur would let him say something as rude as that and agree with him! "Arthur! How can you say that? I was clearly talking out of line a second ago, why didn't you tell me just to buy an alarm clock or something? You need to stop being such a pushover!"

"What? Alfred I really don't know what you're talking about… If I've done something to annoy you, then I'm really sorry…"

"That's the point! You haven't done anything to annoy me!"

Arthur blinked, "Then why on earth are you annoyed with me?"

"I don't know!" Alfred suddenly realised he wasn't making any sense, "You should care more about yourself! Stop being so… carefree!"

"So you're saying you want me to be annoyed?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes! You shouldn't let me talk to you like you're nothing!" Alfred really didn't know what he was saying anymore.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, "Alfred, I could see you were annoyed and I didn't want to create more of a scene… I didn't want to make it any more difficult for you – I should've woken you up, and I'm sorry… But now you're saying that I should be annoyed with you for you relying on me…?"

"No! Yes! Oh God I don't know!" Alfred shouted, knowing he really sounded stupid. This only annoyed him further, and suddenly the wall looked like a very comforting place to attack brutally.

"Alfred, I think you should just get your breakfast…" Arthur muttered, gently leading Alfred through to the kitchen.

"Yeah… Thanks…" The American muttered, finally being able to keep a lid on his temper.

All was going a little better now – there was no more shouting, and Alfred was making good time. Little did Arthur know that it would be his own plan to come flying right back at him to ruin everything.

Alfred had thrown his breakfast down his neck as quick as he could, and was now reaching into the cupboard to get some food to bring with him for school. His hands fell on his favourite brand of cookies, and he lifted the entire packet, about to throw it into his bag. Suddenly he stopped, noticing something stuck to the cookies. Arthur looked over, and with a little jolt he noticed one of the sticky notes he'd attached to Alfred's favourite objects. This particular sticky note was his favourite, as a matter of fact – it was a cute little heart with the word 'love' written on it in lovely, fancy writing that looked a lot like Francis' handwriting. Not that Arthur had copied it or anything. Of course not.

"What's this?" Alfred pulled the sticky note off the cookie, examining it.

"It's my message to you," Arthur smiled warmly, pecking a kiss to Alfred's cheek, "I love you, you know."

Alfred didn't seem as fond of the note as Arthur was.

"Arthur, I'm not a girl. Hell I know I'm gay, but something like this? Liiiittle bit girly. Well more than a little bit – a lot more than a little bit. I mean I could understand Francis doing it to Owain, but me? Nah." Alfred raised an eyebrow.

Arthur very suddenly felt like he wanted to cry, run away, and hit Alfred all at once.

"Alfred, what's wrong? You're not acting like you." Arthur muttered, narrowing his eyes and trying to control his feelings.

Alfred swallowed. He knew the exact reason he was so annoyed – it was because that very good dream he'd been having hadn't been about Arthur. It hadn't even involved Arthur. It had involved someone that really shouldn't be in his dreams. Especially as this dream had been a bit of a romantic one. Alfred was never going to admit this to Arthur, though, so in his hot-headed state, Alfred lashed out.

"You! That is exactly what's wrong! One minute you're all over me, the next you think I'm dating you for a joke, and the minute after that you're in a world of your own! Then you try to make it better and treat me like a girl. I'm not a girl. Perhaps if you can't accept that, you should go over to Coverack and take your pick out of the girls there! I'm sure they'd be more than happy to date you! If anyone's a girl in this relationship, it's you with your queer feelings and your cliché, 'romantic' ideas! But you need to get a grip – you need to get some confidence and stop being so insecure, then you need a reality check – life isn't like those chick-flicks you used to read! It's not full of flowers and 'I love yous'! Just wake up, Arthur!"

Silence for a second.

Arthur could've quite easily burst into tears. He could've flipped out and hit Alfred. He could've demanded for the American to apologise.

Instead though, Arthur bust out laughing.

Alfred stared at him for a moment, wondering if he what he was seeing was reality.

"One day, Alfred, someone is going to give you a great big slap, and after that, I really can't wait until that happens. You don't like all that stuff about me, eh? Well it seems you've been dating the wrong Arthur Kirkland for the past year or so, because newsflash! I'm insecure, I like romance, and I like trying to show the person I love just how much I love them. Apparently that's just not good enough for you," Arthur stopped with his hysterical, scary laughing, "You think I need to wake up? I think you need to do that, my friend."

Alfred watched as Arthur turned on his heels, and just walked out of the door, picking up his school bag as he went. The door shut the sound it made when it shut ominously echoing around in Alfred's head like a big, fat full-stop.

Slamming the cupboard shut and swearing hotly, Alfred growled to himself. He'd really fucked up. Oh how fucking brilliant. Way to fucking go, Alfred.

The day passed like normal. It was actually scary how normal it was. Alfred was late for form, and given a detention. However, Miss Héderváry could tell something was up with the American – his uniform was everywhere, his hair greasy and unwashed, and he wasn't sitting next to Arthur. The detention would be a lot more beneficial than writing lines, Miss Héderváry would make sure of that.

Arthur made sure not to make eye contact with Alfred for the rest of that day. It was childish, yes, but he was giving Alfred the silent treatment. He decided to hang around with his brother Owain and the Frog. Both were surprisingly willing to take Arthur under their wing. Of course they both knew that there'd been an issue with Alfred, but both were gracious enough not to hinder Arthur about it. They'd known Arthur for years – he'd come to them when he was ready.

Owain happily took Arthur back to his and Francis' dorm, uncaring about Arthur's complaints that he needed to get something back in his own dorm. Owain was clever enough not to let Arthur anywhere near Alfred for at least twenty four hours. It'd only end in tears.

Setting Arthur down on the bed, Owain went through to the kitchen, setting the kettle to boil.

"Want me to go and get that book he's whining about?" Francis leaned against the door frame casually, jerking his thumb towards the door.

Just as Owain was about to smile happily and nod, he stopped himself, having an idea, "No, it's okay. I know where it is, and besides, I want a word with Alfred. Keep an eye on him while I'm gone?" Owain jerked his head to Arthur, who'd now curled up into a ball.

"He reminds me of a woodlouse…" Francis muttered, "Fine, fine. I'll try not to attack him while I'm gone…"

"Thanks. Be nice." Owain smiled, stretching up to peck him on the cheek, "Je t'aime~"

"Fi'n caru ti hefyd," Francis chuckled, answering in Welsh before ruffling Owain's hair as he went. He loved it when Owain got all annoyed about his hair being messed up – it was just too adorable.

Before long, Owain had gone, and Francis was left alone with Arthur.

Sighing, Francis sat himself down next to the Brit.

"Your stupid advice made Alfred hate me…" Arthur muttered with a pout.

"No, it wasn't my advice that made him hate you, it was how you acted upon it," Francis spat back. He then remembered that Owain had asked of him, and sighed, "Mon cloporte, what happened?"

Arthur shifted his position, looking away from Francis, "Nothing."

"Well that is a clear lie."

With a dramatic sigh, Arthur lay out on the bed, closing his eyes, "I… I'm insecure. Alfred doesn't like that. Among other things."

Francis raised an eyebrow, "It must've been more than that…"

Arthur examined his fingers, and then decided to tell Francis. He told him about the entire argument, and how both he and Alfred had been out of order.

"… And after that I just started laughing hysterically," Arthur shrugged, "Maybe I'm going insane? I should've just apologised and got over it… It's not even that big of a deal!"

Francis sighed, "Mon cher, I think you are most definitely in the right here. I don't like to admit it, but if anything you were being too tolerant of Alfred. It wasn't right for him to treat you like that, and you need to realise that."

"Treat him like what?" a Scottish accent called through the door, and in walked Alastair, "Owain called me here?"

"Ah, you just missed him mon cher," Francis glared at the Scot, "He's gone to collect a book."

"Oh. So what's going on here?" asked oblivious Alastair, "Arthur, are you okay? What's happened?"

Francis' glare increased, "Arthur and Alfred are on the verge of breaking up, that's what's happened you blind idiot!"

"Alright, alright, retract the claws, Frenchie!" Alastair furrowed his brows, kneeling down to Arthur, hesitantly patting his little brother's knee, "How?"

"Basically Arthur attempted to be romantic and sappy – he misinterpreted advice from me, see – but this just pissed Alfred off. Said American effectively told Arthur that he didn't like his personality, and had a go at him for not being his humanised alarm clock in the morning. Also he called Arthur a girl, and said his feelings were 'queer'. We have yet to work out if that was the gay kind of queer, or the strange kind of queer, though both are quite bad." Francis shrugged, harshly summarising it all. Arthur sobbed a little at the nutshell, and suddenly Francis wished he'd been a little less brutal with his words.

"If you didn't hear, I was asking my brother." Alastair spat, and then turned to Arthur again.

"It was what he said…" Arthur pointed at Francis, returning to his woodlouse position again.

Alastair growled a little from the back of his throat, "That American is going to get a serious punching from me."

"Already taken care of." Owain walked through the door looking particularly murderous. He was dusting off his hands, which looked oddly red. His cheeks were pink, and he looked a little out of breath, "I heard everything, there's no reason to explain it all. Alfred also gave me an insight of what happened, but it was awfully different from that version. It made Arthur look like the bad guy. He really needs to learn when to shut up, doesn't he?"

"You didn't hit him, did you?" Arthur looked up, panicked.

"Of course I did. What do you take me for?" Owain snapped, clearly annoyed. His expression then softened, "Sorry Arthur, I didn't mean to snap at you. Alfred just seriously pissed me off."

"Nice one," Alastair winked, high-fiving his brother gleefully, "You make me proud. I'm still going round there to bash his nose in, though."

"I'd leave it until tomorrow. It'll be more satisfactory," Owain advised, not sounding like himself at all.

"Please be gentle with him…" Arthur muttered, but was promptly 'shh'-ed by the other three.

"You shouldn't be sticking up for him, idiot!" Alastair frowned.

"I hate to say it, but the eyesore is right, mon cloporte. Hmm… I do like that new nickname I've given you…" Francis muttered.

Owain smiled a little, pulling Arthur into a hug, "Don't worry, Artie, we're here! We can watch TV until you fall asleep, yeah? And you don't need to worry about anything. It's all fine."

"Thanks…" Arthur sniffed, feeling pathetic.

Alastair then interrupted, "Oh, by the way, why did you text me to come here?"

Owain looked up, "Oh yeah! Sorry. I'll talk to you outside."

Francis raised an eyebrow, smiling, "Mon cher, anything you need to share with me?"

Owain knew Francis was simply curious – his boyfriend had never pressured him to tell him anything, and this time would be no different. Francis was only making sure that Owain knew that his ears would be open if they were ever needed, and if they weren't well that didn't matter either.

All the same, Owain still felt a little bad when rejecting Francis' help, "Don't worry, just brother stuff," Owain shrugged, "Could you get the ice cream from the freezer?"

Mock saluting, Francis winked and headed out to the kitchen. Owain waved him away, and then patted Arthur on the head before exiting the room, dragging Alastair along behind him.

"What's going on, Owain?" Alastair raised an eyebrow once the door was shut.

"I've done something stupid…" Owain hung his head, "And it involves Matthew Williams.

A/N

Hey! I need to keep this quick, cause Doctor Who is just about to start!
Translations – The first two are 'I love you' in French then Welsh, and Francis continually calls Arthur 'My woodlouse' X'DD I'm sorry, I just love that.
Thank you very much for support XD don't hate Alfred too much! And thank you for/if you plan on reviewing! :D
I'M OFF TO SEE DOCTOR WHO, THEN! /RAVES/
LOVE YOU GUYS!