Dear Reader,

This Fanfic contains homosexual relations.
This Fanfic is rated T for a reason, and the rating is susceptible to increase if I see fit.
This rating is mostly due to crude language, not vulgar actions. If you don't like anything you've read here, then I ask that you don't read. Now that you have been informed, please either leave this page or enjoy the story.

Sincerely,
Germerica

Arthur Kirkland's life wasn't perfect, but it was peaceful.

Scratch that.

Arthur Kirkland's life used to be peaceful; that was before that lewd, deranged, sex-obsessed, overbearing, controlling arsehole of a frog pranced into his life and turned it upside downwith his threats of ruining poor Arthur's reputation.

Oh? You want to know the whole story of Arthur Kirkland? It all started several months ago...

... It was an overcast day in New York City. Yet the streets were still bustling with people trying to get to work by any means possible. Car horns blared, there was the occasional police siren, and even from his 5th floor apartment Arthur Kirkland could hear indistinct conversations of the people below. None of this was bothersome to him, however.

Arthur loved an overcast sky because it reminded him of the British Isles, his home, and though he'd never admit it aloud, he loved the muffled noise. The constant background sound gave the nostalgic feel of living in London with his parents and four brothers.

Though New York City wasn't London (and never would be), Arthur felt at home. He had come to America a little over 9 years ago for University. While in college, Arthur had studied business. Though he wasn't very fond of the field, he had agreed to study it in accordance to his father's wishes. However, unbeknownst to his parents, he took journalism classes in order to satisfy his own secret desire to write. Arthur didn't like being sneaky when it came to the education his parents dished out good money for, but it was his education after all!

Yet it was the combination of business and journalism degrees that drove Arthur to set his alarm the night before for 7 o'clock sharp in the morning so he would have plenty of time to prepare for a much needed job interview with a magazine company.

The company printed a pop-culture magazine of sorts that began printing around the same time Arthur had left his cozy country home in London for University in The States. In the short period the magazine gained unfathomable popularity among the younger generations of young Americans (mostly young adults aged from 25 to 18.) However, the company wanted to expand its business, and that was precisely why Arthur received a phone call from the company only days ago.

"We want a fresh, new face," The excitable person said on the other side of the line, a cheery, Hispanic sounding man with a slight lisp, "We want to interview young journalists who have a firsthand experience of today's culture." he said.

Arthur recalled how shocked he was and knew he simply must be dreaming, but he quickly agreed to the appointment at 9am sharp at the company's main building.

Arthur agonized over what to wear (which wasn't like him, mind you, he simply needed to make an outstanding first impression), but he finally decided on a pair of clean-pressed khaki slacks, a crisp white button up shirt, and a crimson blazer. Arthur adjusted the coat's lapel in his small bathroom mirror and couldn't help but admire how good he looked. He glanced at the clock and smiled triumphantly when the numbers read 8:30am. Not wanting to run the risk of being late, Arthur grabbed his apartment keys and trotted out the door.

The outside of the company's main building was nothing special in Arthur's opinion. It was simply an old building that had some minor repairs made to it over the years such as some windows getting replaced and a security system getting installed. However, the inside of the building was a completely different matter. The interior was incredibly tasteful and bright. The walls were a creamy off-white color decorated with the artwork of local artists. The carpet was a soft maroon and it was complimented by the cherry-wood coffee tables that had neatly stacked magazines on them and creamy brown leather armchairs.

Once over the shock of how cozy the interior was, Arthur made his way to the reception desk. A woman sat behind the mint-green tinted glass and cherry-wood counter at a thin desktop computer. Her eyes were trained on the screen, her fingers deftly flying across the keyboard, but she had a phone held between her ear and left shoulder. When she noticed Arthur approach the desk, she smiled politely and held up on finger in a "please wait one moment" motion as she finished her conversation on the phone.

"I'll be sure to relay your message to him, sir. And your name-?" she nodded and expertly wrote down the message and name on a note pad -" Thank you for your call, Mr. Williams."

The woman hung up the phone and immediately turned to Arthur with a bright, sunny smile. Her voice was sweet and friendly even though her accent was unfamiliar to Arthur, "Hello sir and welcome to International Couture's main building. How may I help you?"

"Yes ma'am, my name is Arthur Kirkland and I'm here for an interview." He said just as he had rehearsed all morning and a good majority of the evening before.

At this she perked up and clasped her hands together giving him a wide smile, "Oh yes! I was told you would be coming in today~" She said, her voice almost song like, "You're rather early, actually. However, I don't think Mr. Bonnefoy will mind..." She chattered on.

"Mr. Bonnefoy?" Arthur asked, "I'm sorry, but I spoke with a Mr. Carriedo on the phone..." Arthur stated.

The secretary laughed lightly and responded politely, "Oh I'm sorry! Mr. Carriedo is our recruiter. He searches out potential candidates, but it is Mr. Bonnefoy who does the interviewing. No one is hired or fired without his approval." She said.

Arthur's stomach dropped. This wasn't what he had prepared himself for. He was prepared to talk to the Hispanic man from the telephone, not some unknown interviewer who apparently was very important to the company if he decided who did and didn't get the job. Arthur suddenly wasn't so sure he could do this, but he had to because the secretary was already on the phone with the mysterious interviewer.

"Hello, Mr. Bonnefoy. Arthur Kirkland is here for his interview... Yes sir, I'll show him to your office. I have a message for you from a Mr. Williams... Mr. Williams... Yes I'm positive that's what he said his name was...I think he said it was Max... Mark... Oh well, I'll get it sometime! Anyways, I'll be up in a few."

She then hung up with a small sigh that was quickly replaced with a smile.

"Please follow me." She said after placing a sign on the desk that said Secretary is out for a moment. Please have a seat.

Arthur swallowed hard and followed the bubbly secretary to the elevator. He hoped that the interviewer wasn't too intimidating... he really needed this job.

The elevator doors opened on the top floor of the building and Arthur followed the secretary down the hall to a pair of frosted glass doors that read "Francis Bonnefoy" in elegant, cursive letters. The woman gently knocked on the door, and a smooth voice beckoned them in. She opened the door and gestured for Arthur to enter. He entered the room and the first thing eyes landed on was the man who assumed to be Mr. Bonnefoy.

The man sat in a luxurious looking chair at a sleek, sophisticated metallic desk with a glass top in front of a window that took up the entire back wall overlooking the city. He wore a stylish white suit with a blue button up shirt. He had slight stubble on his chin and his clean, blonde hair was carelessly swept back into a ponytail. He was the most perfect example of disheveled elegance Arthur had ever seen.

Mr. Bonnefoy gave Arthur a warm smile and stood up in order to give Arthur a friendly handshake. Arthur accepted the gesture with what he hoped was confidence.

"Ah, Monsieur Kirkland," He said, his smooth voice fit perfectly with his face, "what a pleasure to finally meet you. Antonio has told me many good things about you~" Mr. Bonnefoy said with a wink.

Arthur gave a polite yet curt nod in response, forcing a small smile onto his face. This man was French. Very French. What kind of a cruel trick of fate was this? Arthur had assumed the name Bonnefoy was a surname and nothing more; a symbol that the man came from French descent, but was American with a love for Europe. But no. He just had to be French; that meant Arthur would have to be extra polite in his responses to keep his mannerisms in check.

The two stepped back from the handshake, both taking a moment to examine the other.

"Please, take a seat." Mr. Bonnefoy said, directing Arthur to a leather armchair behind the slightly unnerved Brit.

Arthur took the seat and sat quietly for a moment as the secretary (whom Mr. Bonnefoy referred to as Elizabeta) handed his might-be future employer a sheet of paper and a folder. The Frenchman thanked her, and dismissed her. She gave Arthur on last, warm smile as if mentally wishing him good luck before she left, gently closing the door on her way out.

There was a moment of awkward silence that followed after the click of the door resounded throughout the room. Arthur had to fight the urge to fidget as Mr. Bonnefoy stared him down from behind his desk. It was rather bothersome really. He just sat there wordlessly with his elbows propped on the glass top and his stubbled chin sat atop his laced fingers. A little smirk graced his lips as his blue eyes roved over Arthur as if he were a piece of meat.

"So, Monsieur Kirkland, you seem to have quite the talent for writing," He began.

Arthur released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding until he heard Mr. Bonnefoy chuckle; this succeeded in causing Arthur's cheeks to color an unattractive ruddy shade of red.

"When Antonio told me he had found someone for me to interview right out of college, I was skeptical. However, just because you're talented, doesn't mean you're committed." He said, slowing scooting his chair back so he could stand.

Arthur tensed as Mr. Bonnefoy leisurely strolled over to where Arthur sat. Much to Arthur's discomfort, the man then began to circle Arthur's chair.

"Do you know how many hopeful journalists applied for this spot, Monsieur Kirkland?" He asked slowly, his pace round and round the chair never faltering.

"No, sir." Arthur replied nervously. Now that he thought about it, Arthur never remember applying at all, which struck a paranoid nerve in his mind. Was this man humoring him with an interview? Was he really so sick that he would raise Arthur's hopes just to dash them out?

"Forty-eight." Mr. Bonnefoy said smoothly, finally stopping behind Arthur's chair. "But none of them had quite the bravado you did when it came to writing. They all seemed like it was tedium. A chore. And reading their works felt like reading a text book. Dry. Bland. Boring. Then one of my associates brought me some of your articles that were given to him by one of your professors; and I decided to take a chance."

Arthur felt long fingers drape over his shoulders, causing him to jump. His heart beat sped up and it didn't help that those fingers began to gently massage the muscles that had tighten from the extra stress of the interview.

"Do you want this job, Arthur?" Mr. Bonnefoy purred, his voice was smooth like an aged wine.

Arthur was silent. Did he? Did he really want it? Arthur knew he needed it, but did he want it? Then again, when would an opportunity like this come back around?

"Yes, sir."

"Then it's yours." Mr. Bonnefoy chirped, removing his hands so he could give a sharp clap.

"R-Really?" Arthur stammered, standing to meet face-to-face with his new employer. This couldn't be happening... This was just too good to be reality.

"Oui."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bonnefoy!" Arthur said, all previous doubt gone from his mind, his spirits feeling higher than they had in a long time.

Mr. Bonnefoy took Arthur's hand and gave him another warm shake, "Please do not be so formal, Arthur. Call me Francis." He said with a wink.

"Uh.. Sure." Arthur said, unsure how to register such forwardness, but he chose to categorize it was friendliness.

"Excellent. I expect you to report to your new office on Monday morning at 8 o'clock sharp."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Bon- erm- Francis...?" Arthur said somewhat uncertainly. The thought of being on a first name basis with his superior was foreign on Arthur's tongue.

"Good. Dismissed." Francis said with a slight was of his hand.

Arthur nodded and left in a slight daze, but not so much that he didn't forget to shut the door on his way out. However, he didn't notice the smirk on Francis' face and the dark glint in his eyes as Arthur left.

Author's Notes

Well hello hello hello! What's this? Something other than RussiaxAmerica in my collection of scribbles? I think so!

I love FrUk though, so I had to write about them, and I can totally see Arthur as a broke-ass college student in desperate need of a job to prove to his family that you can pursue what makes you happy and be successful... and I can see Francis as the douchebag who manipulates that dream for a quick lay or two.

Hope you enjoyed; please review~