A/N: More of a filler chapter. Plus Joker. *guilt*

Arthur refused to meet Alfred's eyes.

Alfred frowned. He may not have been able to read the atmosphere, but he was smart enough to know that his friend was angry with him. "Hey, what's wrong, Arty?"

"I thought I told you not to call me that!" Arthur snapped.

"Yeah, why else do you think I'd use that name?" Alfred laughed. He tried to curl his arms around Arthur's shoulders, but the other man shrugged him off. "Alright, really. What's going on that could make you refuse a stud like me?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Alfred ducked down and kissed Arthur softly on the cheek.

Arthur blushed. "It's just- everyone knows! About us, I mean!"

"Why shouldn't they know? We aren't trying to hide anything."

"Maybe you aren't," Arthur replied, turning his tense back to the other man, "But I sure as hell am! I have a child to think about."

"He's eleven; he can take it. Besides, he isn't..." Alfred tried to embrace Arthur again, and this time was met with no opposition. His arms found a comfortable position enclosing Arthur's abdomen and ribcage, and he breathed into his ear when he spoke. "He's not here now..."

Alfred placed a trail of kisses down Arthur's jawline, letting his hands stroke his lover's shoulders. Arthur sighed, a tiny helpless sound that signaled that he was going to capitulate.

"Alfred..."

Their lips brushed, sending shivers through their bodies. They kissed again, for longer this time. Then Alfred lightly took Arthur's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked. Arthur moaned and turned around to put them face to face.

They began to kiss passionately, tongues entwining and hands stroking any surface of the other's anatomy that they could reach. Arthur was soon a blushing, panting mess, letting out broken groans and grinding slightly against Alfred's left leg.

Alfred, eyes blurred in any case now, took off his glasses and put them on the record player.

Smiling tenderly, he pulled Arthur to the floor.

...

Francis sat in a dingy underground vodka bar and watched the women on the dance floor.

A young one caught his eye, dancing capriciously with her blue dress swirling against her tan skin. Her long, dark hair was loosely gathered into two red bowed pigtails, and it too shimmered and waved as she moved. Her face was lit up in amusement, joy, and slight inebriation.

Francis contemplated getting up and talking to her, but then she moved closer and he realized that she really was incredibly young; he would bet money that she wasn't even out of her teens.

No. Not even I'm that bad.

So Arthur would be getting some tonight and he wouldn't. Merde, life just was not fair sometimes.

...

As Peter scraped the bottom of his ice cream bowl for the last dregs of fudge sauce, Matthew sank lower and lower in his chair, trying, for the first time in his life, to go unnoticed.

"What's wrong with you?" Peter asked through chocolate-covered lips.

"That... person... won't stop staring..,"

Peter glanced over his shoulder. The small shop was nearly deserted save for a small black haired man wearing the paper hat and white apron that signified he was an employee. Peter could have deduced this anyway, though, for the man was scrubbing a table with a wet cloth and looking like he wanted to leave.

"Tiny over there? Looks busy enough to me. You're just being paranoid."

"No, he's doing it again!" Matthew sunk even lower in his seat. "He's just... staring at me; it's creepy!"

Indeed, Peter turned to see the man frozen, staring intently at the little of Matty's person that wasn't under the table with his dark brown eyes.

Peter jumped. "Oh man, that is really creepy! What's his problem?"

Matthew had now completely submerged and could not be seen.

"Matty?" As Peter looked around for his friend, the creepy man moved to their table with small, shuffling movements. He reached it and stood there silently. "What d'you want?" the boy inquired angrily.

"Excuse me, but when Mr. Jones comes back, could you give him this?" The man set a small, thick envelope on their table, safely out of the way of any ice cream spills. He bowed. "I'm very sorry to bother you." Then as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone.

Matthew popped up from under the table. "Is he gone?"

"MATT!" Peter squeaked. "Where did you come from?"

Matty sighed. "Never mind, Peter. What'd he give you, anyway."

"I dunno; it's sealed shut." The boy picked up the envelope, held it to his ear, and shook it. "No loose parts. It's a solid object…" he tapped the bump in the paper against the tabletop. "Metal, if I'm not wrong."

"Peter, don't! You'll damage it!"

Peter ignored him. "What could Al be getting that's small, solid, made of metal...?"

Matthes stared at him.

"Well?"

Matthew jumped. "W-well I don't know!"

Peter sighed in that self-centered way only children can. "Honestly." He pulled out a grimy pocketknife from his trouser pocket and flicked open the letter opener. He slit open the envelope, Matty biting his fingernails in his fear that somehow this was a punishable offence and they were about to get incarcerated.

Out of the envelope tumbled…

"A fob watch?"

Matthew snagged it and clicked it open. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, weird!"

"What?" Peter tried to look at the watch face, but Matty held it up above his face. "What? Show me!" The quiet man smirked and held it even higher. Scowling, Peter jabbed a hand into his exposed underarm and he doubled over, giggling compulsively. Matty was infamously ticklish

Peter grabbed the watch out of Matthew's inattentive grasp and stared at it. It looked perfectly normal. "There's nothing wrong with it, you liar."

Matthew, now recovered, shook his head. "Take a closer look."

Peter blinked. "Uh… oh!"

"See? It's a little amazing, huh?"

He nodded, a smile spreading over his face. "It's running backwards!"