:D enjoy, it's been a while and I'm already on spring break, oh my... please review! :]

XXX

He ought to win a award for keeping his cool. The thought ran through his head as Arthur walked the lobby of good old Fix-U-Up incorporated, acting as if everything in the world was dandy.

That his stomach was full of scone and Earl Grey, that he hadn't missed breakfast because of a certain stupid face and that his roaring migraine was really only a little buzzing noise in the back of his head.

Usually, he would have taken the stairs up to his cubicle due to his daily work out plan (no way was he going to lose to that eternally fit hamburger guzzling monster) but his back side ached so much he doubted that he would've made it up the first flight.

So the Brit watched the little elevator numbers blink, the hypnotic lights almost lulling him to sleep. He sagged a little, his eyes beginning to cloud over--he really hadn't gotten any sleep last night, had he? Arthur's mind began to drift, dreaming of pleasanter times, roving over memories of sunlit hills in his homeland, and a smiling Alfred who's golden hair shone like---

---The man in the elevator's?

Arthur stared pleasantly as the elevator doors slid open, his mind still half asleep. In his dream-like state, he wondered aloud,

" When did Alfred start wearing Armani?"

The man he was staring at looked up at him, amused. " Arthur." He walked forward, pulling Arthur into the elevator with him. " It's nice to meet you again, cherie."

Arthur stopped, his mind processing the words. Cherie....

"Alfred doesn't speak French."

As the elevator doors slid shut, the realization hit him, shaking him from his daze. No.. Alfred doesn't speak french...

The Brit backed up in horror, a curse escaping his lips, his mental alarm ringing for the second time in the last twelve hours. Should've taken the stairs, should've taken the stairs, should've taken the stairs, GODDAMIT WHY DIDN'T I TAKE THE STAIRS-----

The Armani clad man smiled at him. " Do you remember me?Vous ne vous souvenez pas de moi?" Of course that was a fluke, who could forget him? ----

As Arthur sputtered at the rapid french, his smile grew, slowly spreading across his stubbled chin.

"Francis Bonnefoy, at your service."

The Brit glared at him, completely awake now. " Of course I know who you are, twat." Was his past intent on haunting him? " The real question is why you're here."

The French man shrugged, nonchalant. He glanced at the floor indicator---they were almost there. " My boss sent me here."

" For what?"

The cocky grin grew. " To make sure you know what you're missing."

The Brit snorted. " Not you, that's for sure."

"Really? Aren't you missing someone? Or rather, something?" he gave a lazy wave of his hand.

" Go back to Antonio and Gilbert, they'll be more than happy to take you in, frog."

" Come on, Arthur, think real hard. Maybe your fairy friends could be of help. Or maybe a certain unicorn..."

Arthur's eyes widened. " No..."

" Oui, Vous l'avez calculé enfin hors ?"

The Brit had him against the elevator wall in a second. " Tell me you're screwing with me." he was furious.

The Frenchman shrugged. " I don't tell lies. Je ne reste jam----" The Brit pushed him harder against the stainless steel, practically breathing down the other man's neck.

" You. Are. Screwing. Me."

Francis laughed. It payed to see Arthur this wound up. Then he winked, slowly and seductively.

" No... But I could be if you wanted me to."

And with a Ding! the elevator door opened to a smiling Feliciano whose smile turned upside down at the sight of his cranky co-worker on top of another man. The sight made him blush, of course he would never imagine him and Ludwig in the same position... though it would actually be quite enjoyable....

He piped up, attempting to wipe the dirty thoughts from his head. " Good morning, Arthur! Would you like some pasta?"

When Arthur didn't respond, the man from beneath him pushed him away, chuckling. His hair was blonde and he smiled at Feliciano.

"Leave him alone for now, he's lost his unicorn." He laughed. " Though he would have one day." He patted the confused Italian on his way out, leaving Feliciano to wonder whatever kind of unicorn he was talking about.....

After him trailed Arthur, staggering down the hall towards the main office. He needed to see that hamburger monster. Now.

XXX

" Also--- I want another Big Mac and three side orders of fries."

Alfred spun around in his chair, listening to the alarmed McDonald's employee repeat his order.

" So you want the Club Sandwich, Chicken snack wrap no lettuce a Filet-O-Fish, salsa wrap, Two Big Macs, and another three side orders of fries."

The server paused. " Is that correct?"

Alfred laughed. " Add a McFlurry." He knew that tone, the one that they usually gave him when he ordered. He wasn't dumb or a glutton.. he was just hungry.

The voice on the line wavered, doubtful. " Method of pay?"

The McDonald's server (whose name was Conor) stared at the check in his hand.. for one person this was probably the largest order he's ever rung up. He asked again. " Method of Pay? We accept debit and credit, Master Card---"

" I'm going to kill you...."

Conor pressed the phone harder against his ear. " Excuse me, sir?" There was the sound of cracking on the other line. " Sir?..."

The other line sounded again. " Woah, woah Arthur, easy buddy."

Was he talking to his dog?

Conor asked again. " Sir! Method of pay?"

" Down boy, down." his customer on the line laughed. " I'll feed you later--"

Sigh. He pulled on his Mc Donald's hat. What kind of person talked to his dog?

" This is all your fault!" a different voice sounded on the line. Oh, so his dog talked. Conor yawned-- working at a fast food joint really took it out of you.

" At least let me order first, Arthur."

Conor perked up. Finally. He got his pen ready to write down a number. " Method of Pay?"

" Right. I'll come and pick it up is that ok? I'll pay by credit first."

" Oh all right. Number?"

" 1934-38---nh--AHH!"

Conor frowned, the numbers half written. " Sir?..."

" Arthur you bad boy--what are you doing?" Conor blushed. What exactly was going on on the other line?

" Sir?..."

" Ah right. -78 I'll come by in half and hour or so---- Ahh!"

" Stop making weird noises your twat, I'm gonna kill you and hang up your worthless hide--that is after you deal with Francis for me."

Conor's face grew red as he listened to those weird noises, gratefully writing down the last two numbers. " Right, Mr. Jones, thank you for eating McDonald's!"

" ah- right. Down, Arthur, why aren't you in your cubicle?"

Conor hung up with a sigh of relief, entering the order. He himself went to put the fries in, yawning tiredly. The day had been long, too long. He stared at the potato strips in the frier turn a golden crispy brown and inwardly groaned. There were still many hours left, after this.

He took them out, after they had browned to perfection. He hoped that Mr. Jones would come before they became stale or limp.

But as the many hours passed, and even when Conor left, the fries were still there.

And sadly, they were no longer a golden, crispy brown.

XXX

Lololol this chapter took me a while :D hope y'all enjoyed. and also, I'm thinking about making all the Bad Trio members appear and perhaps making Conor come in again. Hmmm. What do you think?

Please review, its my brain food!