Francis Bonnefoy 1:42 P.M.

| Hey Kirkland, mind looking over some papers for me? They are mostly finished, but I need another eye

Gilbert Beilschmidt 2:10 P.M.

| Yo Arthur, I need to know what time is good for me to collect the cash

Matthew Williams 2:37 P.M.

| Hi Arthur, hope I'm not bothering you, but Francis was wondering if you were purposely avoiding him. Hope you aren't...he's been stressed for the past couple of days...over this project...and it would be great if you responded

Francis Bonnefoy 3:12 P.M.

| Okay, so maybe pouring Antonio's tomato juice on you was uncalled for yesterday at happy hour, but let me remind you...it was HAPPY HOUR...I was drunk...we were all drunk

Francis Bonnefoy 3:14 P.M.

| If you wanted an apology then sure

Francis Bonnefoy 3:17 P.M.

| I apologize, you idiot, just say something

Francis Bonnefoy 3:21 P.M.

| Arthur... please?

Francis Bonnefoy 3:30 P.M.

| Even if you lie to me and tell me you've proofread the files, I will be happy. Just respond, rosbif

"Your phone's been buzzing a whole lot," the drawl was slow and a little muffled. "Are you sure you don't want to check your messages?" the head poked out from under the table. "I mean," his blue eyes flitted back and forth from Arthur and the wall socket, "I can always come back later."

Arthur shook his head and put extra emphasis on the 'p' sound, "Nope."

He leaned further back into his seat as he observed for the change in Alfred's facial expressions. His lips slightly pursed together as his brows bunched up.

Wonderful.

He wasn't buying it.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders as he swiveled in his chair a little awkwardly, it was a trait he picked up from his younger brother, Peter, "I mean, it's all work-related stuff, and I can't exactly do any work because...," he gestured and moved his hands in circles towards the monitor, "...yeah," he finished lamely.

Alfred's blue eyes dropped to the ground slowly as he nodded his head slowly—probably realizing how awkward Arthur was, "Yeah sure, buddy. I understand. Work," he turned back to the socket and pressed a few buttons here and there. Based on Alfred's relaxed tone, Arthur knew he didn't mess up.

Yet.

Arthur relaxed into his seat and let out a sigh of relief. He'd joined the company approximately six months ago as a transfer from the London office. He was supposed to be here for one month, enough to finish up a merger, but instead, due to a certain person, he negotiated into staying for a few months longer.

Long enough to accomplish a certain task...

Alfred slowly came back from under the table, "It wasn't that hard of a fix, actually. I think your laptop froze." He reached for the wireless mouse and waited for Arthur to enter his password. As Arthur leaned over, he smelled a sweet mix of apples, pine, and something uniquely belonging to Alfred. "Perfect, let me just back up your files," Alfred mentioned with a laugh. "And then you'll be all set to go."

His teeth clenched as Alfred opened a myriad of windows. He'd paid Gilbert and Antonio, each, five hundred to mess his laptop beyond repair. And now, Alfred was solving the problem in just a few moments...

Suddenly, right when Alfred clicked into another folder, an error message popped up and his laptop screen turned black. Alfred blinked for a moment and let out a nervous laugh, "Oh, ha, um... well that's interesting," he turned around and pulled on a black chair, sitting right next to Arthur.

Perfect!

Arthur smiled—mostly to himself—as he had a chance to profile Alfred.

Six months ago, his type had changed.

It all occurred on one fateful lift ride, actually. He'd been late for his first day—stuck in some crazy traffic—and Alfred had just gotten a cup of hot coffee. Alfred had no sense of professionalism, what with his gamer t-shirt, ripped jeans, and his converse that had little superhero symbols drawn over them. His wheat blond hair was in all different directions—as if he'd never brushed it before coming to work, and his glasses were askew on his face.

It was just enough for him to scoff and roll his eyes.

But then Alfred talked about the weather. Such an inane topic...but Alfred somehow made the cloudy skies outside much more fascinating. Talking about serious and cumulative and stratified and nimbo something clouds—alright, he wasn't really listening, he just was stunned at Alfred's breadth of knowledge about clouds.

And dear lord help him, when they started talking about airplanes (something he could care less about), that's when Arthur fell hard. The spark in Alfred's eyes, paired with his enthusiasm, made Arthur intrigued.

And then that smile...

He had to beg his supervisor to let him stay. He promised to work remotely and help the London office as long as he could work and stay in America.

It was perfect... he had a desk near the IT department, so he frequently saw Alfred every day. Had his dose of romance quite often since he made every attempt to get tea, coffee, snacks, etc. just to catch Alfred's cute expressions as he worked.

But then some idiot in HR decided he was better off with the other business associates, and they moved him up two floors.

So, he didn't have his daily dose of Alfred...

He did the next best thing that came to mind to see Alfred—and that was placing in a bunch of IT help tickets.

"Hm," Alfred ran his fingers through his hair lightly as he pressed various buttons, "Was this problem recent?" Alfred turned to look at Arthur, and for a second, Arthur became too mesmerized with Alfred's lips to really listen in on what he was saying, "Did you open any spam emails or go onto some unknown site?"

He wondered how soft those lips truly were...

"Arthur?"

"Huh?" his gaze was shifted upwards as Alfred dropped his gaze downwards to his shirt. "N-no, not really."

Alfred bit his lip, as Arthur turned away from him in displeasure. He wanted to be the one biting Alfred's lips.

"Arthur Kirkland!"

He bounced in his seat, and even Alfred was a bit startled. Arthur swallowed slowly as he turned to a fuming Francis.

"You have some nerve to never respond to the urgent mess—oh, why hello!" Francis's scowl quickly formed into a pleasant smile. "Alfred Jones is it?" Francis shoved a manila file towards Arthur as he kept up the conversation with Alfred, "Thanks for recovering a few of my files. You have been more help than this petit salaud who refuses to answer my messages."

Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose in a very adorable manner, "Well," he began softly. "The dude's laptop is pretty messed up. He couldn't respond to you either way." Alfred turned back to work on Arthur's laptop.

"Was his laptop messed up before or after he paid—," Arthur quickly jumped up and placed his mouth over Francis's. Francis stuck out his tongue and it rolled over Arthur's palm. Arthur recoiled and Francis smirked, "A word, mon petit lapin?" his voice was laced with sugary sweetness.

Arthur glanced at Alfred briefly, but Alfred's gaze and focus was solely on Arthur's laptop. With a sigh, he nodded and let Francis guide him to a more private corner on the floor. When they were alone, Francis leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, "You know, rosbif, if you wanted to capture your adorable hero's attention, you could've asked moi. I would've charged you half as much as Antonio and Gilbert charged you."

"You don't know anything about IT to mess up my laptop!" Arthur growled. "The most you could possibly do is press the power button accidentally! He'd think I'm mental if I placed a ticket for that!"

Francis rolled his eyes as he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, "You know, rosbif, you could capture Alfred's attention in ways other than damaging company property."

"Like how?" he couldn't believe he was wasting his precious time debating with the frog when he could have stared at Alfred's precious facial structure.

Francis shrugged, "Like a love letter, or maybe a love poem?" Francis had a starry gaze in his eyes as his lips curled upward slowly, "Compare Alfred's blue eyes to the depths of the seven seas, or maybe his body to that of a Greek god."

Francis pushed himself off the wall, "Either way, please finish reading the papers over. I need to pass them to legal as soon as possible."

"What is this blasphemy?" Francis's nose wrinkled as he picked up the paper.

Arthur scowled as he clenched his hands. He knew it was a bad idea to come to Francis. But still, he made the dumb mistake. After proofreading pages and pages of Francis's proposition—while making notes in the margins—he suddenly became inspired and wrote a haiku. Before delivering it to Alfred, he'd thought of asking Francis to proofread his late-night creativity.

Which was a bad idea, indeed.

Francis turned to Arthur with a glare, "This is the most pathetic love letter—,"

"It's a haiku!" he protested.

"Even worse! What were you thinking?" Francis glanced back to the sheet of paper and cleared this throat, "Alfred, I like you. Do you like me too, Alfred? Because I like you." He chuckled for a bit, "Honestly, if this is your late-night creativity, remind me to never contact you after hours."

Having enough of Francis's rubbish, he leaned over and tried to snatch his late-night inspiration, but Francis leaned back with his signature chortle, "Oh hon, hon, no Arthur." He folded the piece of paper and slipped it into his pocket, "I'll keep this to feel better about myself," he smirked.

Arthur frowned and snorted as he made his way to leave the room. But Francis cleared his throat, "Arthur," when he turned around, Francis sighed, "I don't normally do this, but you are a hopeless case," he ignored Arthur's protest, "so big brother has decided to help you." He grinned, "I'll help you write love letters!"

Arthur stared at Francis for a few seconds. Francis had helped a few people in the past. Antonio, Gilbert, Ludwig, to name a few. They're all happy with their relationships now, but Arthur doesn't believe for a second that Francis would help him. Honestly, he would probably do more damage than good.

"I—,"

"You think of what you want to say in English, and I'll translate it to French," Francis smirked. "Because everything sounds so much more romantique in French. And if you really want to up the romance, I can drop a few rose petals on the both of you or we can get in some accidental kisses—,"

"How in the world are you going to manage rose petals without being awkward?" Arthur huffed with frustration.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," Francis winked and rolled his chair closer to Arthur, "But mon petit lapin, that's for another day. Do you have anything romantique to tell Alfred?"

As much as Arthur wanted to wipe that smirk off the frog's face, he knew he couldn't. He was in an office, and he wasn't going to risk violence, nor the chance to be ungentlemanly. Clenching his fists, he turned on his heel, "Like hell I would tell you!"

"Can you hear me, rosbif?" the noise blasted through his ears as he winced.

Arthur lowered the volume on his phone as he harshly whispered, "Yes, frog, I hear you!"

Francis didn't let the small issue go, and throughout the week, he popped up near Arthur's desk and taunted him for his lame love notes. Yes, he struggled writing love notes, but it's not as though he studied love writing at university.

"Good, now we can prevent you from saying something crazy like, "The sky is blue, your eyes are too!" just where do you get your ideas from, rosbif?" Francis began to snicker as he recollected Arthur's most recent love note.

"It's supposed to be a rhyme," he growled under his breath. "And I thought you would help me, not taunt me."

"Oh, I am helping you, rosbif. I'll prompt you on what you should say."

Francis had given him a Bluetooth device. Since Arthur made no progress, Francis mentioned he would help. Today apparently was their first lunch "date," and Francis promised that if all went well, Alfred would ask for another date.

Arthur hid his hands in his pockets so people outside wouldn't see them shaking. He had an image to uphold, and he couldn't ruin it by showing off his nervousness. As he pressed the button to Alfred's floor, he leaned back and sighed.

Be calm and cool, Arthur. Be calm and cool. This is just Alfred. The idiot Marvel fanboy who dresses up as a superhero every year for Halloween and colors his trainers with his sketch pens. Sure, you've only liked him for about six months ago or 180 days ago or 262,800 minutes ago...bloody hell that is a long time!

His eyes bulged open as his breath quickened.

"Giving yourself some pep talk, rosbif? It'll be fine. Big brother is here to help you!" Francis mentioned in a sing song type of voice.

His fingers pressed the Bluetooth as he muttered, "That's what I'm afraid of..." He really hoped Francis didn't give him any ideas of being assertive.

Three months ago, when Francis was providing his "brotherly" help to Antonio, he suggested Antonio to be assertive and just grab Lovino's arse and confess, and it might have worked for Antonio and Lovino, but he knew it wouldn't work for him. He would mess it up somehow. He always did. That's why he couldn't ever get into a relationship with anyone.

The elevator doors opened and Arthur saw the back of Alfred's head. Like usual, Alfred's hair was mussed up. As he walked closer, he noticed Alfred chewing on the back of his pencil. With a gulp, he closed his eyes and—,

"Hey Arthur! Want a churro? Lovi and I made some yesterday!" Antonio's bright, bubbly face came into view as he held out a box of fresh churros which had a chocolate drizzle.

"Um...," he leaned back as he tried to think of something to say. The atmosphere here was too cumbersome for him to handle. On one side, Antonio was showing him a box of sweets, on another side Alfred was looked at him expectantly, and Alfred's blue eyes slowly dropped to his attire for the day. Was that appreciation...or disgust?

"Rosbif, eat Antonio's churro like you would eat Alfred's d—," Francis's lewd comment brought him back to his senses.

"NO!" he emphatically announced. Antonio jumped back in surprise, and even Alfred's eyes became wider. Suddenly Alfred turned away as he held his hands to cover his face—probably in exasperation at Arthur's stupidity. Arthur turned to Antonio as he tugged on the hem of his forest green sweater vest, "I, uh, mean no. I shouldn't have any sweets before lunch," he smiled awkwardly as Antonio nodded his head briefly.

He stood there awkwardly as Antonio returned to his seat. Everyone in the IT department was busy doing whatever it is that they do, while he was standing there like an idiot. He felt his cheeks getting warm as he covered his face with his hands.

"Rosbif, stop getting embarrassed. Say something to start the conversation. Perhaps begin with the weather? Or about Antonio's boyfriend, or Gilbert's—,"

"Amazing weather we're having today, isn't it? I really love sunshine!" Arthur announced a tad too bit loudly. The room grew quiet as everyone slowly turned to look at him—even Gilbert who was too amused to care about him from before. He pulled on his sweater vest again as he felt the blush coming back, "I—uh, what?"

He really wanted to dig a hole and bury himself.

"Wow Arthur. What a perfect thing to say." He heard Francis's obnoxious laugh on the other end.

Gilbert glanced at the window and turned to Arthur, "You do know there's a flood warning right now?"

"There is?!" Arthur snapped his head to the window, and sure enough, it was raining fairly hard. He gulped as he tried to salvage the situation, "I—uh...meant yesterday! We had amazing sunshine yesterday. Positively amazing! Had my vitamin D intake," he rambled as he twiddled with his fingers.

"But yesterday was also raining," Antonio muttered softly and Gilbert snorted in the background. "It's why Lovi and I made churros instead of going out for a walk."

"Tomorrow?" he mentioned in the softest of whispers. If he could dig a hole into the ground and bury himself, he would do it right now.

"It's raining tomorrow, too," Alfred mentioned softly. His lips were curled slightly upwards. "The whole week actually, which is why the flood warning is serious."

Dear Lord! He glared at the floor. No amount of digging could ever make him forget this embarrassment.

"Oh," he muttered as he waited for the frog's laughter to subside. He needed prompting—and this time, better prompting—on what he should say because he wasn't going to be an idiot again. But at the same time, he didn't want to wait silently, so he opened his mouth at the same time as Alfred, "So—," they both said.

Alfred rubbed the back of his head gingerly, "Sorry about that. What's up, dude?"

"Laptop issues," he'd gone over the situation with Francis already.

"A-again?" Alfred's eyes narrowed, "Like again dude? This is the fourth laptop that you went through this week. I'm very inclined to just purchase a new laptop for you using my own money. Just what do you do on the internet anyway?" Alfred turned back to the monitor screen and typed something quickly on his laptop. When he saw a window for anti-virus software, he did his best to not die.

"I mean if you can't help, I can always ask Gilbert or Antonio," his sharp comment was a little too quick for his liking. Antonio and Gilbert briefly locked eyes with each other, while Arthur crossed his arms, "So are either of you, free? We can get lunch and then you can teach me about internet safety so my laptop is not susceptible to another virus."

"Heh," Gilbert smirked, "As much as I would love to," his red eyes fell on Alfred for a brief second and something passed between the two of them, "I am a little backlogged in the number of tickets I have to resolve."

Arthur turned to Antonio as Antonio shrugged his shoulders, "I don't mind lunch." Arthur heard something snap as he swiveled his head towards Alfred. In Alfred's hands was a broken pencil. "But Lovi was planning on dropping by so maybe—,"

"Old man, if you really need help," Alfred slid into his rain jacket and pushed his chair with a little more force than necessary, "I'll just take time off my very busy day to teach you how to avoid computer bugs and viruses." Alfred walked up to Arthur, "Ready to go?"

"Now's your chance rosbif!"

Arthur jumped in surprise. He forgot Francis was on the other side. Glancing up at Alfred, he gave a strained smile, "I'll meet you downstairs after I get my—,"

"I'll come to your floor," Alfred shrugged as he maneuvered them to the elevator. Behind him, both Antonio and Gilbert wiggled their brows suggestively. Those annoying gits.

"No need," Arthur laughed awkwardly. "I can just pick my jacket up and meet you downstairs."

"Rosbif...why can't he come to your desk?"

Despite Arthur's words, Alfred leaned over and pressed the button to Arthur's floor, "No worries. Maybe I can assess the damage as you get your stuff." Alfred stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to whistle softly.

Normally, he would've used the few minutes he had with Alfred to shamelessly ogle, but now, he was getting stressed. Sure, he was planning on telling Alfred one day that he had a semi—alright, maybe a huge—infatuation for the comic loving geeky American. But he wasn't willing to be embarrassed in the process.

Littered all over his desk were love haikus, limericks, and poems about his "undying" love for all things heroic and Alfred. And to hell he was going to let Alfred see the unproofread poems.

The second the elevator door opened, Arthur bolted out and ran to the desk.

"Rosbif, I'm worried. I just saw you race out as if your life depended on it..."

Using both his arms, he pushed everything off his desk and shoved random papers into the trash bin. He slowly observed every crevice of his desk and nodded with satisfaction as he reached for his umbrella. All those notes were gone and—

"You raced here pretty fast, dude," Alfred's deep voice jolted him. When Arthur turned, Alfred was already leaning towards the laptop. He pressed a few buttons and sighed, "I don't know how you manage to do this every time," he adjusted his frames and turned to Arthur, "it almost makes me feel like you do this on purpose," his tone was light and teasing.

"Oui Alfred, c'est exact! Mon petit lapin is paying others to destroy his laptop so he could spend quality time with you!"

"Shut up," Arthur muttered with a blush.

Although he'd meant it for Francis, Alfred bubbled with laughter, "Just kidding," he pushed away from the desk and frowned. As he leaned closer he began to chuckle. Arthur followed his gaze over and blanched.

Pulling the sticky note off the side of the laptop, Alfred wiped a fake tear from the corner of his eye, "You're like the Hulk and my love for you is in the bulk?"

"Oh Arthur, I didn't think you could get any worse! Though, it is better than the original poem you wrote. So, mon petit lapin, you're improving!"

"This has to be the dumbest thing I've read," Alfred laughed some more and turned to Arthur, "Did you write this?"

"Tell him you wrote it rosbif. Please, I want to know what your Alfred is going to say."

Arthur snapped his head to the side and glared at Francis who was hunched over his computer. Despite typing something seriously, the grin on the frog's face didn't go unnoticed. With a small grumble, he turned to Alfred, "My brothers sent it to me, and I thought it was the craziest thing..."

"Lies, rosbif."

"It's cute though," Alfred shrugged his shoulders as he turned to Arthur, "If you don't mind, can I keep it?" Arthur's lips pressed together tightly as he nodded his head once in confusion.

"Why do you think he wants it, rosbif?"

Alfred scratched the back of his head and glanced down as a blush spread across his cheeks. Arthur felt giddy and warm just seeing that. "It's actually not that bad of a pickup line, and I may use it on someone one day."

Never mind.

He didn't feel giddy and warm.

Especially not as Francis chortled in his ear in amusement. With a glare, he turned to Francis's desk and glared at the unstable body in the cubicle. He knew it was a terrible idea to act on his feelings. Why would someone as perfect as Alfred like him?

"Let's just go," Arthur muttered as he slipped into his coat.

Alfred nodded his head as he packed Arthur's laptop in the laptop case and followed suit. After pushing the lift button, Alfred turned to Arthur, "What are you planning on eating?"

"Little Arthur is going to eat you Alfred."

With a growl, Arthur pressed on the lift button again, effectively startling Alfred in the process, "I don't know. Anything...anything that's not French."

"Rude."

Alfred blinked in amusement before he let out a little laugh, "It's a good thing an Italian restaurant is across the street. But I'm not too hungry, do you want to get something and share?"

"Oh, mon petit lapin, this is your time to shine! Agree and get a plate of pasta! We can pray and hope that you too will share a saucy kiss!"

"Pizza," Arthur mentioned as he grit his teeth. Getting Francis's help was starting to be too much. He seriously considered throwing the Bluetooth off, but he knew that if he did, Francis would give him an earful.

After ordering their pizza, Alfred opened Arthur's laptop and quickly began typing away. As much as Arthur despised the silence, he appreciated Alfred's concentration. Alfred knew when to have fun, and when he needed to work—unlike his other friends who preferred to bring the party to work as well.

"Say something rosbif...compliment him...this is supposed to be a date!"

Arthur pulled on his collar as his eyes rolled over Alfred. There wasn't any single thing he could compliment about Alfred. He was perfect in every way. From the way his stubborn cowlick swayed when he was excited, to the little cartoons that were drawn over his shoes. Even Alfred's flaws (his annoying nature, his excessive whining, and his need to take in high caloric salty food) was endearing and lovely.

But he had to choose something. Some compliment to fuel the conversation.

"You have a nice neck, long and intriguing," he finally decided on. He didn't know why, but he said those words. In reality, Alfred's neck was inviting—but there was no way in bloody hell would he say that. So, he settled on something appropriate and original.

Francis didn't seem to share his sentiments, though.

"Are you a vampire or something? The hell, Arthur. Who compliments someone's neck on a first date? You should've complimented his eyes or smile or something."

Alfred gulped as he laughed slowly, "Thanks...I guess... No one ever complimented my neck before. I'll make sure to not wear turtlenecks," he sat up straighter as he became more confident.

"Heh, well I'm pretty sure you've received a ton of compliments about your eyes or smile," Arthur glanced away, "but you have a nice neck, too—," in a meeker whisper.

"Stop speaking, rosbif. You're probably going to say something about how inviting Alfred's neck is and how you want to cover it in hickeys."

"It's very inviting. Inviting enough that it should be covered in hickeys," Arthur continued the train of thought without comprehending what he was actually saying. He reached for the glass of cool water and hoped that by drinking a sip, he would be able to cool down his pounding heart and head.

"Mon dieu, you didn't." There was silence in his ear as Arthur turned to glance at Alfred—who seemed as red as Antonio and Lovi's organic ripe tomatoes. "You didn't just say that," Francis mentioned with a resigned sigh.

He frowned as he thought back to what he had just said, and when he realized what left his mouth, he spit out his water which unfortunately landed on Alfred. With an anguished cry, Arthur quickly grabbed some napkins and patted down Alfred's face.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't know what I was thinking! It's just," Arthur frantically dabbed Alfred's face, but Alfred eventually held onto Arthur's arm. "The ladies in the marketing department were talking about it! Y-yeah! And I found it so funny and hilarious—and I certainly do not think that. Really...I don't!"

He always prided himself in being a calm and composed person. Everyone in the London branch praised him for his eloquence and patience. He could speak to any person without losing it. But after coming to America, he wondered where he lost his past-self. Whatever he did just now was downright embarrassing.

"It's alright," Alfred mentioned with a strained smile. "I've had my fair share of amusement after speaking with them. They're always so frank, so I not too surprised."

If Alfred was embarrassed, he sure didn't make it evident. His attention was turned to Arthur's computer. Arthur had to give it to Francis—whatever the Frenchman did seemed to have stumped Alfred. For most of their meal, Alfred was invested on the laptop. And as much as he wanted to get to know more about IT man, he knew it was better to shut up.

"Say Arthur, what do you usually do for work?" Alfred glanced up as he took another slice from the tray.

"I usually audit. Last month, I've been working in the research department to see if we could make any functional changes to our product—but now, I just spend most of my time reviewing our product's success and worth, why?" he took a bite into his pizza.

Alfred's brows knit together, "Alright. Do you run any applications that require a lot of processing speed?"

"Uh...no?"

"Hmm," Alfred placed his fingers under his chin. "Then can I check your email to see if you have a build-up of spam mail?"

"Su—,"

"Don't say 'sure' rosbif! All our email conversations about Alfred are there, and your business transaction with Antonio and Gilbert might be there, too!"

"No!" Arthur snatched his laptop closer to him and hugged it to his chest as Alfred stared at him blankly. "There's confidential information about a certain product in this laptop." He desperately hoped Alfred couldn't hear his thumping heart. It would be downright embarrassing.

Alfred cocked his head to the side as he pulled on the company badge that was clipped to his jeans, "You know I work for the same company as you right? I've signed all the non-disclosure agreements."

"Still, it's a new product—,"

"Are you planning on resigning from the company?" Alfred butted in with a curious expression. "Is that why you are so scared? Are you filling out the—,"

"I'm not resigning!" Arthur snapped with a glare. He wasn't someone who quitted so easily. He placed the laptop down and quickly opened it to his email so he could move all his conversations with Francis into a specific folder titled, "Grenouille." The only French word he knew besides some of the more mainstream French like "Bonjour" or "Au Revoir."

Alfred nodded his head as he leaned back into the seat, "That's good. I was a little surprised when you decided to stick around here. Everyone was convinced you would head back to London after the merger."

"I was planning on it, but I changed my mind after some serious thought," Arthur murmured as he closed his laptop. The decision didn't come quickly. Sure, he was attracted to Alfred, but giving up his life in London? It was a painful decision—which his brothers gave him an earful for—especially if Alfred had no plans on reciprocating anytime in the future. But he was also someone who liked to take risks. If Alfred did end up liking him, it would make his time in America so much more worth it.

Glancing up at the American, he wondered if he should do it. Should he make the step forward? Screw it, I will. Clearing his throat, he added, "I ended up liking someone, so I stayed."

"And does that person like you back?"

One of the reasons he was so good in his trade was that he could read emotions. He could tell when someone was lying through their teeth about a certain product. But right now, he couldn't read anything. No anger, no happiness, no jealousy. Those words were blank. Just as blank as his eyes.

Not to mention, Alfred must be dense on so many different levels if he couldn't guess that Arthur was completely besotted with him. He wasn't that computer illiterate to be putting in at least five or six different IT tickets in every given week.

"I don't know," Arthur admitted truthfully as he glanced down at his nails.

Alfred shrugged casually, "Well, you'll never know unless you confess."

"Y-yeah...I suppose."

And I really hope you like me back, because I don't know what I would do if you didn't.

Je comme toi.

He laid in his bed for a long while trying to think of how he could make his intentions clear to Alfred without scaring him off in the process. As much as he wanted to write a poem, he didn't want Alfred to laugh, again. But, at the same time, he wanted his message to be as clear as possible.

So, he looked up each word in the sentence, "I like you," and translated it into French and then made sure the meaning was the same before he wrote those words on a piece of stationary paper in his lucky green pen.

Then, in the morning, he dropped it off and attached a sticky note so Alfred knew that he was the one who wrote it instead of the frog. Then, he raced off back to his seat and tried to ignore the thumping in his chest.

He didn't even feel this nervous when he found out how he did for his A-levels.

So far, it'd been three hours since he dropped the note off, and Alfred gave him no word about seeing the note—even though the note was plastered on top of his laptop screen. There was no chance that Alfred did not see the note.

But if he did...

Arthur glanced at the company chat and hovered over Alfred's name.

Why didn't he respond?

"Arthur, I have a word to pick with you," Francis walked by with a file on hand as he sauntered over. Placing the file on Arthur's desk, he crossed his arms, "You know Arthur, even though we have vast differences, I always thought of you as my little brother. You know you can rely on me when it comes to the matters of love."

"I don't have time for your bullshit, frog," Arthur hissed as he immediately stood up.

Knowing that Alfred probably didn't like him back was a sore topic. If Francis knew, he would probably console Arthur, and Arthur quite frankly didn't need that pity, from Francis or anyone else. What he needed was a few pints of ale and some ice cream.

"W-what happened, Arthur?" Francis followed Arthur to the lift and furrowed his brows in concern as Arthur turned steadfastly away from him. Francis leaned in to try and hug Arthur, but Arthur pushed him away and quickly entered the lift. "A-arthur!" Francis yelled with petulance as the doors closed in.

Arthur crossed his arms as he leaned back into the cool, metallic surface. After he grabbed some chamomile lavender tea, he would send his boss a quick email about not feeling good and then go home. And then, he could reevaluate his decision about coming to America just for some cute IT guy.

When the lift doors opened again, he was surprised to see his usually hyper crush. But, instead of sporting his calming smile, Alfred scowled at him and took a step back, "Guess I'll take the next elevator."

It took a second or two for the words to register in Arthur's head. He was always so used to Alfred's kindness and sweetness that he didn't think the American would be so brutal. But, when he did notice what Alfred mentioned, he stomped out of the lift and narrowed his eyes. Living with four older brothers was enough for him to know that fights should be settled then and there. He wasn't going to mope and wonder why Alfred was so angry.

"Next elevator? What's got your knickers in a twist?" he growled.

Alfred's nose scrunched up as he stood tall in his spot. With a casual roll of the eye, he scoffed, "I wear boxers, thank you very much."

Arthur blinked before he shook his head, "That's beside the point! Why are you so angry at me?"

Alfred looked at him incredulously before letting out a bitter laugh, "You have some nerve to ask me while I'm so angry at you." When Arthur blinked in confusion, Alfred pushed Arthur's shoulder, "Your dumb note? Where you weren't man enough to insult me in English? So, you decide to insult me in French?"

"Insult?" Arthur raised a brow in confusion. Last, he remembered, he was fairly positive "Je comme toi" was "I like you" in French. He triple checked in three different translators just to make sure. There was no way his note was an insult...unless...

Arthur gritted his teeth, "I can't believe you find my presence so offending," Alfred had the gall to look confused at those words. But at this point, all reason left Arthur as he continued to rant, "I wasted my time liking you! Honestly, I could've just gone back to London, but no! You talked about clouds and I fell for you, so I left everything behind and begged my supervisor to work here just so I could get one date with you and see the sparkle in your eyes! But instead of rejecting me sweetly, you get angry with me. Well guess what wanker, fuck you too!" Arthur gave him the middle finger before he turned to stomp away in fury.

But Alfred latched onto his wrist and asked, "You like me?"

Arthur closed his eyes in irritation, "I never liked superheroes, thought they were too cocky. But, when I saw all the superhero comic books on your desk, I forced myself to learn about superheroes. Just so we could talk about superheroes on our first date. I don't even like cheeseburgers! But I've habituated myself with the taste so if you ever wanted to go to a fast food place, I wouldn't gag. I even paid Antonio and Gilbert $500 each to mess my laptop up just so you can fix it!

"So, no, I don't like you. I probably am unhealthily obsessed with you, but I thought that would scare you off, so I decided to just say, 'I like you,' in that note. Doesn't matter though because you hate me anyway!" Arthur huffed as he rambled.

Alfred's lip quivered as the blush covered his cheeks and neck entirely. Arthur tried to get out of Alfred's iron grip, but Alfred only held onto his wrist tighter, "But 'Je comme toi,' means—,"

"I like you in French," Arthur mentioned flatly. He used a bit more of his strength, and this time successfully shook Alfred off. "But don't worry, after this night—,"

"But Francis said—," Alfred began with a frown.

"Big brother was mistaken!" Francis called out as he panted. He just came out of the staircase exit. He stumbled over to Alfred, "Je suis très désole, Alfred! I didn't mean to! If I had known, I would have never!" tears began to pool in the corner of Francis's eyes as Arthur scowled.

"You idiot!" he hissed at Alfred. "You couldn't have used the internet to translate what was on that note?"

Alfred blinked as he took a step back. He pointed to Francis innocently, "But he's a native speaker," and after a moment, adding, "And he saw the note before I did." Alfred turned to Francis with a pout, "Why did you complain that the note was so insulting, then?"

"Because that was atrocious grammar!" Francis turned to Arthur and whined, "Big brother would have helped you! You didn't even have a verb in your sentence! Why didn't you use my help? We could've created something beautiful."

It was a very simple decision, really. Since he didn't know any French, he couldn't ever verify what Francis wrote. For all he knew, Francis might have given him something extremely suggestive that even the online translators didn't pick up. Poor Matthew, from sales, would've had a heart attack trying to translate for Alfred.

So, no, he would've never willingly gone to Francis.

"It doesn't matter if we created something beautiful," Arthur glared at his shoes as he muttered, "Alfred doesn't like me anyway."

Turning on his heel, he immediately headed to the stairs. As soon as he reached his work station, he would compose an email to be transferred back to the London office. There was no point in him staying here, anyway.

"Arthur, where are you going?" Alfred managed to grab his wrist before he opened the door.

When he turned around, he became distraught knowing that Alfred still had the same effect on him. His heartbeat picked up, and he could feel himself warm up a few degrees. This boy would be the death of him if he stayed around. Setting the Atlantic Ocean between them might be the only way for him to return to his normal state.

"To my desk so I can compile my transfer notice," Arthur mentioned with a tinge of anger.

"W-why?"

It was cute, Arthur had to give Alfred that. Alfred's voice sounded so distraught and concerned.

Arthur glanced back and glared at Francis—motioning him to leave. Francis pouted, but when Arthur began to scowl, Francis turned away in dejection. It didn't matter, Arthur would meet up with Francis later to inform the Gossip Diva of what happened.

"Isn't it obvious?" Arthur turned to Alfred and crossed his arms, "Your feelings for me are not the same as my feelings for you. Instead of staying in the company and being constantly reminded of how you've rejected me, I'd rather go to London," he sighed, "It'll be easier to forget you."

"B-but what if I don't want you to forget me?" Alfred adjusted his glasses nervously. When Arthur raised a brow tiredly, Alfred continued, "I-I like you, too!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he took in Alfred's flushed appearance. Genuinely speaking, someone like Alfred was always out of his league. If you put looks aside, Alfred was the lovable, effervescent soul that everyone loved to be with. If everyone was a moth, Alfred was the flame. And, Alfred was a child at heart, always seeing the innocence in others. He never purposely hurts another, and this was probably just that.

Alfred probably didn't want to hurt Arthur.

"I don't need your pity, Alfred," he ran his fingers through his hair as he took a deep breath. "You don't need to play the role of a hero and try and console me. It'll be fine. Many people have broken my heart before. You'll just be someone else added to the list—,"

His eyes widened in surprise as Alfred launched himself forward. Within a split second, their lips were interlocked in a brief, but sweet, kiss. Alfred took a step back and blushed as he whined, "I never wanted my first kiss with you to be like this, old man! You made it so unromantic since I didn't know of another way to shut you up!"

Arthur opened his mouth, ready to speak. To say something—even though his brain was buzzing with nothing. But Alfred held up a finger, "No, let me finish. I'm not unhealthily obsessed with you. I hated you in the beginning since you always had issues with your laptop, but, eventually I realized that my day wasn't complete unless I saw you at least once. It came to the point where I would beg Antonio and Gilbert to give me all your service requests. And, that one month where you didn't put in any tickets? I kind of messed around with your laptop so you would put in an IT ticket."

Arthur's mouth dropped open as Alfred rubbed the back of his neck. Alfred liked him back, or at least Arthur thought he did? He messed around with Arthur's computer? So, Arthur didn't have to pay Gilbert, Antonio, or Francis to mess around with his computer just so Alfred would come and fix it?

"So, before you decide to run away to London, let's go on that date. This time though, let me get to know you better," Alfred smiled slowly. "What do you want to do?"

Arthur gulped and shook his head. He had to be dreaming. This was a dream. He would wake up sometime soon. He pinched himself and frowned when he heard Alfred's sweet laughter.

"This isn't a dream, Arthur," Alfred whispered with an innocent grin. The grin slowly washed off his face as he stood a little taller, "But, you still haven't answered the question, Arthur. You, me, date this weekend?"

"I-I need to go back to my desk," he settled on eventually.

The spark in Alfred's eyes vanished completely as he sighed, "So, you're going back to London?"

"No," Arthur mumbled. "I need to look up places we can go for our date," he was sure the tips of his ears were red.

In the six months he was here, he never had time to genuinely explore the area. Since he spent most of his day "resolving" some laptop issue, he would go back home to actually work. It was taxing and exhausting, but considering everything that happened, it was worth it.

"Really?" the spark was back in Alfred's eyes as he bounced in excitement.

"Really," Arthur whispered back as he reached for the door to the staircase. As he opened the door, he heard Alfred call out his name. When he turned, Alfred gave him a boyish grin and pointed to his phone.

With a frown, Arthur pulled it out and became extremely lightheaded when he saw:

Alfred F. Jones 1:10 P.M.

| Je comme toi a whole heck of a lot!

A/N: It's been a long time, but writer's block has been the absolute worst. And, I'm not super happy with this since I think the ending has been rushed, but I hope you guys liked it anyway. Either way, Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there.