{Edited}

Going to the supermarket in America was godawful.

Americans were godawful.

Everything in America was godawful.

Allen had decided this as he searched through the dairy section only to find that Americans didn't sell bagged milk.

What the hell was he supposed to do with a carton?

"Lookin' a bit lost there." A cheery voice sounded behind the concentrated whittete.

Alenn spun around, ready to reply, when his breath caught in his throat.

'By gods is this guy hot...'

The wonderful person standing casually in front of the awestruck Allen couldn't have been much older than he was. He had fiery red hair, kept up in a stylish bandana, a charming smile that made Allen want to melt into a pile of English mush, and the most curious part, Allen thought, was the one surreal emerald coloured eye with its partnered covered in a plain satin black eyepatch. It really just added to Allen fancy, though.

"You okay, bud?" the redheaded angel asked, waving his hand in front of the stalk still teen's face.

He'd probably noticed Allen's staring.

A red blush exploded across Allen's otherwise pale cheeks, "uh, pardon, what was that?"

The redhead chuckled, showing off his perfectly straight pearly whites, "I said you look lost. And judging from your accent, I'd say you're good ways from home, Dorothy."

Allen pursed his lips, cocking his hip and crossing his arms,"I resent that,"

The redhead just chuckled good-naturedly, "I didn't mean any offense by it," he stuck his hand out, "I'm Lavi."

Allen took it with a bit of reluctance, "Allen."

Lavi retracted his hand, sticking it into the pocket of his green skinnies, "So, What's a pretty brit like you doin' so far away from home?"

"I just arrived here today, I'll be living here now," He couldn't help the hint of bitterness colouring his otherwise pleasant tone.

Lavi's eyebrows raised, "How old are you? Are you in school?"

Allen nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned against the nearest wall, "I'm enrolled in Black Order Academy."

"Ah," Lavi hummed, smiling, "I go there, too! What are you, a freshman?"

Allen shook his head, his brow ticking at the assumption, "No, a junior."

Surprised painted Lavi's handsome features, "No way, you can't be more than 15..."

Allen scrunched his nose up, "I'm nearly 17, thank you very much."

"Hey, hey, didn't mean anything by it, buddy. I'm a junior, too, by the way." Lavi said, pointing to himself with his thumb.

Allen pursed his lips, turning his head away poutily, "I didn't ask."

Lavi laughed, not a small chuckle like the other times he'd laughed, but a laugh.

And man, if Allen didn't think it was the most gorgeous sound he'd ever heard in his life. Was there anything not to like about this guy?

"Short man's anger huh?" Lavi said, his eye scrunching as his lips stayed parted with amusement.

Ah yes, that was what not to like about him. Nobody's perfect, huh?

"Anyway," the amused redhead continued, "Was there something in specific you needed? Looked like you were having a problem there."

Allen sighed, glancing to the milk cartons to his left, "How...does one go about using milk cartons?"

Allen winced as Lavi's boisterous laugh filled the aisle.

Allen pouted, "It's not that funny..."

Lavi wiped a tear from his eye, "Sorry, brit, it really was." He then moved to grab a carton, "See this part? It says open. You just pull it apart, push the two sides of the tab into itself, and the opening will widen. You can pour you delicious milk, push the lip back in, and put it into your fridge." he explained.

Allen nodded, his eyes wide with amazement, "Wow, Americans are interesting creatures."

Lavi quirked a brow, "They didn't have milk cartons where you come from?"

Allen shook his head, "No, we did. My friends and I just always thought it was ludicrous."

Lavi grinned, "Milk bags sound ridiculous to me, anI i bet if you asked any other kid at our school, they would say the same."

"Psh," Allen rolled his eyes, "Of course, you're Americans."

"Yeah, yeah." Lavi gave in, chuckling good-naturedly before straightening, "Anyway, I'll see you on Monday, then, brit."

Allen nodded, waving as the redhead left.

'I guess not all Americans are bad...'

'This one, however, is absolutely terrible.'

Was Allens thought as he knocked into a wall of unapologetic muscle.

"Fuck," the guy he bumped into hissed, "Watch where you're going!"

Allen glared up at the still-standing girly-man, "Same to you, prick." he spat.

"What did you just say to me?" the guy growled, his cobalt eyes narrowing on the fallen whittete.

Allen glared back, "I think you heard me bloody well, girly."

The guy's hands fisted, twisting into the plastic bags he was carrying, "Say it again, Moyashi, I fuckin' dare you." he growled.

Allen stood, crossing his arms and glaring defiantly at the feminine man and noting-much to his dismay-that he had nearly a foot on him.

"Gir-ly." he mocked, his tongue wrapping around the venomous words coldly.

The girl-dude, fisted the front of Allen's shirt, bringing the shorter teen closer to him.

"What're you gonna do, wanker? Scratch me with your pretty nails?" Allen mocked with a small smirk.

A tick mark appeared on the guy's temple as he opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted by a voice calling out, "Hey! Yuu? Where'd you go!?"

Allen had to guess that this 'Yuu' person was him as he let go of Allen's shirt, sticking a finger in his face spitting, "My name's kanda, remember it, midget. You got off real fuckin' lucky this time."

Allen watched with a smirk as the long-haired guy jogged away, his silky pony tail swinging at his back.

'Bloody Americans...' Allen thought with a shake of his head. If he never saw that guy again, it would be too soon.

When he opened the door to the house, he mumbled out a small, "I'm back," definitely not expecting an answer.

Cross didn't usually give him money if he was planning on ever being around, after all.

So the grunted, "Hey ballerina," was definitely unexpected.

Allen stopped to drop off his groceries on the counter before he wandered into the living room. The room of which held his loathed guardian.

He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, watching as Cross splayed across the couch, flipping through channels with the remote in one hand and a wine glass in the other.

"Don't spill the wine on that sofa," Allen mumbled, watching every precarious dip and splash of the cherry-coloured liquid.

Cross scoffed, yeah like he'd never done that before, "Whatever, mom. It's my damn couch, I'll spill wine on it if I want to, what're you gonna do about it, fairy?"

Allen raised an unamused brow, "Only if you clean it, bastard."

"What're you gonna do? Force me? Ha!" Cross laughed, "You're funny, kid."

"Won't be laughing when you have to bring your dates home to a wine-stained sofa." Allen muttered in response, smiling when Cross set the wine glass down on a coaster sitting on top of the coffee table with a muttered, 'fine, fun-killer.'

"Why'd you put cahs into my account if you were going to be here tonight?" Allen asked as he walked into the kitchen to put things away. Thank god the kitchen was the first thing he'd set up this morning. He wouldn't have had the energy to do it right then.

"I'm going back to England." came his answer.

Allen stopped, dropping what he was doing in favor of moving into the living room to glare down at Cross, "You're what?" he hissed.

Cross made shooing motions with his hands in an attempt to get Allen to move fro in front of the T.V., but he didn't budge, just quirked an eyebrow as he awaited an answer. And damn, it better have been a good one.

Cross sighed, putting the remote down, "It's just for the month, now move."

Allen still didn't move, "If you were planning on going back, why did we come? We haven't even been in this house for more than 24-hours and you're going back already!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a frustrated motion.

Cross groaned as if Allen was being the exhausting one, "It's just a small trip, brat, don't get your tutu in a bunch there."

Allen stared as Cross incredulously, "You're kidding me, right?"

"I don't kid, now move, I'm missing my soaps with your aft ass in front of them," he waved Allen out of the way once again.

This time, Allen sighed, moving away from the screen, "I'm getting the locks changed while you're gone." he told him as he stepped back into the kitchen.

"Sure ya are." Cross muttered, probably around the lip of that damn wine glass.

Allen wasn't going to warn him again about getting stains on the sofa. HE was sure Cross knew that.

He was also sure Crosskneww that he wouldn't get the locks changed.

Allen sighed, hanging his head and rubbing his left hand on his forehead.

Damn him and his bleeding heart.

I really am trying to make these chapters longer as I edit, but I really didn't leave myself with much, so bear with me. I'm trying to work with the old (terrible) plot and give somewhat quality chapters but it is hard, so if you have any suggestions or changes you want made to the overall story (Mainly if you've found any issues so far or if you read the first draft) Anyway, I'll start working on the third, then. Happy reading :)