Hey guys~

This fic is really different then what I'm used to...

I'm not a hundred percent satisfied with it but if I don't post it now, I probably never will

I'd really like to hear what you think to see if how I am at writing this way.

Enjoy.

Arthur Kirkland was running late. He impatiently glanced at his watch as the red light kept him in place. This is fucking ridiculous! That light is never going to change! he thought. Finally the light's hue transformed from red to green, and the Englishman sped off. He expertly dodged through traffic and was almost at his destination when the familiar sound of sirens filled the air. He quickly scanned his rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the alternating blue and red lights emanating from the top of a cop car.

"Oh, fuck me," he muttered under his breath and he turned his wheel to pull over. Through his mirror he watched as a tall, muscular man got out of the police vehicle. He was clad in a black officer uniform, with a gold badge on his chest with the name Ludwig B. shining in the sunlight. The officer sauntered over to the Brit's car and tapped lightly on the window. Arthur rolled it down and tried to manage a smile, "Is there a problem officer?"

"License and registration," he said coolly. After receiving the documents, the cop wordlessly headed back to his car to verify them, so Arthur rolled back up his window. The Brit tapped his fingers anxiously on the wheel. I don't have time for this, he thought. I have to go. Glancing back at the mirror, he noticed that the officer was occupied. I could probably just leave right now. He gently put his hand on the transmission and was in the process of shifting gears when he heard a banging on his door. The officer stared solemnly at him through the glass and Arthur smiled awkwardly as he lowered his window again.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" the cop asked sternly.

"You want facial grooming tips?" Arthur joked.

"Not from you," he remarked, glancing at the Brit's extraordinarily bushy eyebrows.

"Hilarious," Arthur scoffed.

"You were speeding," claimed the German. Arthur tried to think of a way out of this ticket, he had to, the fine would be obnoxious and money was pretty scarce right now. What lie usually works on those cop shows?

"Well, you see," he began. "The reason I was speeding is because my wife is pregnant and I've got to get to the hospital," He attempted pathetically. The officer casually glanced inside the car.

"There's no one else here," he noticed.

"I didn't bloody say she was in the goddamn car now did I?" Arthur snapped back. Ludwig raised his eyebrow at the Englishman's use of profanity.

"Sir, you should watch mouth and that temper, it could land you in some undesirable places."

"Whatever, can I go now?"

"Of course, right after I write you a ticket."

"Oh come on," he sighed. He decided to try a different strategy—not lying. It's worth a shot. "I'm late to pick up my kid, okay?"

"Ah, so the truth comes out."

"So you see my problem?"

"Yes," nodded the officer. Arthur smiled.

"But having somewhere to go, doesn't put you above the law," said the German as he continued to write the ticket.

"I wasn't even really speeding," the Brit complained.

"You were going sixty in a school zone!"

"It's not like I hit anyone," he protested.

"You got lucky, next time you might not be. So this will ensure that you don't try it again," nodded the officer. He wrote the ticket and handed it to the driver. "Have a nice day," waved the German as he headed back to his car.

"Sod off," growled Arthur, once he was out of an earshot. Then, he hurriedly drove to the daycare, parked, and jogged up to the entrance.

"You're late," snapped Miss Elizaveta Héderváry, the Hungarian nanny, as he came through the door.

"I know, I'm sorry," he tried to explain, but she waved him off.

"You're just lucky another parent called in to say he'd be late to pick up his kid, you know, something you should probably learn to do." Arthur simply nodded; he didn't want to piss off this woman anymore that he already had. Last time he did, he got smacked with a frying pan, but in her defense he could be a stubborn twat sometimes. "Alfred's in the back, I'll go get him."

"Thanks." As soon as she disappeared behind a colored door, another man came running through the door.

"Excuse me?" questioned what Arthur could only discern as a French accent. He turned to see who trying to get his attention, when his eyes landed on the most beautiful person they had ever be held. The man was slender but athletic. He wore black slacks with a cerulean collared shirt; his black tie was a bit disheveled, probably from running. He had shoulder length blond hair and eyes where a mix of several hues of blue that, together, made an electric combination. They lit up as they made contact with Arthur's eyes and the Brit did his best not to blush.

"Can I help you?" the Englishman asked.

"Have you-," the blonde man began, staring intently at Arthur's face; his expression was pensive as if he was trying to decide what to say next. "I'm sorry I can't even make up some fake question. I just wanted to say that you just have the most amazing eyes," he breathed. Me? Thought Arthur. You're the one who walked in looking like a fucking supermodel, with eyes that make the heavens themselves green with envy! Who the hell do you think you are? Does that make you feel better about yourself, huh, you bloody frog? Making us muggles feel even worse about ourselves?

"Yea, I,-don't-it's not- Thanks. My mom got them for me," he managed.

"Excuse me?" the Frenchman asked, perplexed.

"What? Did I stutter? Or were you just not listening?" Arthur asked indignantly.

"Um, you did stutter?" the blonde replied.

"Who asked you?"

"Didn't you-"

"That's right nobody! So don't go answering questions that don't exist!" The Frenchman watched for a minute before chuckling to himself. Great job Arthur! He's already laughing at you. Ruin your chances immediately! Don't let him think you're normal or anything! I guess it's better to set it straight now, so he doesn't get a chance to leave you…

"Ok guys, I think your dads are here," smiled Elizaveta as she came out with two young boys. They were laughing and playing with each other but once they spotted their parents they split to go greet them. Arthur attempted to regain his composure to smile at his son.

"Hey Alfred."

"Dad!" grinned Alfred, the small sandy-haired boy ran up and leaped into his father's arms. Arthur groaned. This boy is getting big. The Englishman noticed the other young boy walking to his father and raised his arms to be picked up. His French father grinned, showing off a set of ridiculously white teeth, and scooped up his child. Of course, he'd have perfectly white teeth! Who does he think he is? Walking in here looking like he belongs in a fucking commercial!

"Papa, Alfred m'a dit que je peux aller chez-il," smiled the young boy. His father raised an eyebrow.

"Vraiment?" he asked. Upon hearing his boy's name, Arthur looked at the other man.

"What did he say?" he questioned.

"Oh, Matthew just said that your son-Alfred?-invited him over to his house."

"It's true dad," grinned Alfred. "Matthew and me are gonna slay dragons together 'cuz we're heroes!" Arthur frowned at his son.

"You mean 'Matthew and I'," he corrected.

"No, Matthew and me," he insisted, pointing to himself. "You have your own friends, daddy."

"I'd be happy to set up a play date," suggested the French dad.

"Good!" the little boy smiled. "When you guys have a play date, can me and Matthew get one too?" Alfred asked bluntly.

"Son, it's 'Matthew and I'" the Englishman tried to correct again, hoping that he would forget about the whole play date ordeal.

"Dad!" the small boy whined, exasperated. "Matthew is my friend, okay? Stop trying to take him from me." After staring at his dad for a while to prove his point, he turned to the Frenchman. "So are you going to have a play date with my daddy or not?"

"You can't just-" Arthur began, blushing slightly.

"Of course," Frenchman replied, winking at the child, and then he turned to Arthur. "My name's Francis Bonnefoy." He placed the hand he wasn't using to carry Matthew out for Arthur to shake.

"Arthur Kirkland," he responded, taking the hand. His hand was so warm and steady, Arthur didn't really want to let go.

"Enchante," smiled Francis.

"Pleasure," agreed the Brit. "Um, sorry about yelling at you before," Arthur said calmly. "I've been having a crazy day."

"It's okay," the Frenchman insisted. "Weird days happen to everyone." Elizaveta, apparently forgotten, simply stood there watching the exchange. There was something about these two that she liked; so she made a mental note to keep on them. They'd be cute together, but I have to go home, she thought. She noticed a motorcycle pull up alongside the building and heard the cyclist honk. Crap, I better get going.

"Ok guys, time to go," she declared. The motorcyclist rounded the building waiting for her, clearly getting a little impatient.

"Noooo," screamed Alfred, jumping from his father's arms to grab Elizaveta's leg. Matthew hopped from Francis' arms and mimicked his friend. "I don't wanna go." Arthur rolled his eyes; he'd seen this act before. Alfred wouldn't give up until he promised him some kind of reward. Usually he wouldn't give in, but he wanted to get out of there.

"Come on Alfred, I'll get you some burgers on the way home." The little boy's eyes lit up and he grinned.

"Bye, Miss Elizaveta," he smiled as he hugged her.

"Bye, little one, and I'll see you tomorrow, Matthew," she said.

"Liz?! Are you ready to go?" the voice belonged to the cyclist, who had now dismounted his bike, in an attempt to retrieve his girlfriend. He began to approach Elizaveta before he stopped short and seemed to be staring at Francis. He quickly removed his helmet to reveal spiky white hair and red eyes.

"Mon Dieu," laughed Francis. "Gilbert is that you?"

"No fucking way!" the albino cheered "Francis? It's been ages! How are you?"

"I've been great and life's going well. What about you?"

"Life's been awesome. I've got a great girl," he winked at Elizaveta, who blushed lightly. "My job's pretty steady and it's just all been wonderful."

"That's great to hear."

"Yea, what are you doing here anyway?" he asked glancing around the daycare. "Oh right, you have a kid. Matthew? How's he?"

"Matthew's great. He's four now, almost five."

"Five! Are you serious?"

"Yea, he's growing up so fast, mon dieu, where does the time go?" laughed the Frenchman.

"Is this him?" Gilbert asked, pointing at Alfred.

"No, he's right...right," Francis looked around. "Where'd he go?" The adults surveyed the area, trying to locate the missing boy but he was nowhere to be found. "I don't understand, he was just here a second ago," Francis explained.

"Alfred, did you see where Matthew went?" his father asked him.

"Who?" asked the little boy, distracted by a fire truck on the floor. He picked it up. "Daddy, can I have this?"

"Not now, son," dismissed Arthur as he continued to look for Matthew. The little boy slid down to the floor and began to scream.

"I WANT IT NOWWWW!" he yelled. Arthur tried to ignore the tantrum, but Alfred only got louder.

"Dude, control your kid," remarked Gilbert. Francis was still anxious to find Matthew but even he couldn't tune out Alfred's shrieks and couldn't help but look at the little red faced boy. Arthur couldn't be more embarrassed.

"It's okay, I got it," offered Elizaveta. What? To show these guys even more how incompetent I am? No, he's mine. I've got this, Arthur thought but he didn't move from his spot. He simply watched as the nanny walked over to his child and gently calmed him down. For someone so aggressive, she can be so normal sometimes, he realized.

"Do you think he's in the playroom?" asked Gilbert. Francis didn't even wait for a response; he sped past the others and entered the back room. The others followed but the Brit didn't want to leave his son alone.

"Come on, Alfred."

"I want my hamburgers," the boy said sternly, crossing his arms.

"You'll get your burgers after we find Matthew."

"No, I want them now." Why was he like this? It was like he was trying to annoy him on purpose.

"If you help me find Matthew, I'll get you two burgers and fries," he said, trying to make his offer sound amazing. The child bought it and ran after the rest of the adults into the playroom. Arthur shook his head and followed him. He had never been in the back before but the place was huge. There were quite a few doors leading to different rooms. What the fuck is this? Narnia? This building looks so much smaller from the outside, how is this even possible? He stood in the main hall, looking around for where everyone else had gone. Alfred immediately jumped into a ball pit near the slide right next to him. Francis came running out of a room and searched wildly for somewhere else to look next. Arthur noticed the desperation in his eyes, he had removed his work shoes so he could run around faster and his hair was disheveled. But he still looks like a bloody model? I hate the French, why do they have everything so fucking easy? The Frenchman tried to calm himself down and leaned against the wall, where he soon slid to the ground. He laid his head on his knees and just sat there. Arthur made sure Alfred was safe in the ball pin before walking over to the depressed man. He sat himself down beside him.

"Hey, we'll find him," he tried to console. Francis looked up at him and Arthur could truly see the sadness that lay behind his deep blue eyes.

"We have to find him," he said softly. The Englishman nodded and Francis took his hand for support. Again a warm sensation ran throughout his body and he just felt like everything was going to be okay. What am I? A fucking teenager? We're in a serious situation here and all I can think about is...no, it's got to stop. I'm supposed to be consoling him, not the other way around. How would I feel if I'd lost Alfred? I have to focus, he decided. He grabbed onto the Frenchman's hand and helped him get up.

"Let's go." The guys met up with Gilbert and Elizaveta in the painting room as they looked purposefully through some closets. When Arthur and Francis tried to help them, the German waved them off.

"It would be faster if we split up. Liz and I have got this room, you guys look somewhere else." Francis concurred and left the room with Arthur, right before they entered the a light blue room, painted with soft white clouds, most likely designated for nap time, the Brit's cell phone went off. As he picked up the phone, he signaled to Francis to go on without him.

"Hello?" he answered, a little rushed. It was his boss.

"You need the Sander's report edited by tomorrow?" he asked, almost whining. The thing is like a thousand pages long and I haven't made a dent. What kind of dipshit would want to ruin my life like that? Oh right, this pillock.

"I don't know if that's possible sir," he tried to reason. "Maybe by Wednesday?" He removed the cell from his ear as his employer proceeded to yell into it, with some profanities that even he might have to look up later. Real professional. Francis came out of the room to join Arthur.

"Um, okay. I'll get it done tonight," the Brit finished, hanging up. The Frenchman looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay? You look a bit angry," the blond noticed. Stop worrying about me! Arthur thought. What's wrong with you? Worrying about other people is what gets you hurt, so let's just find your son so you can go home and I can go read and edit a thousand pages of crap.

"I'm fine," he managed to say. Francis studied him a little more.

"You can leave if you need to, hopefully we'll find him. I truly appreciate your help," he said earnestly.

"Do you not want me here?" asked Arthur, a bit offended.

"Of course not, I just thought-"

"Well, then stop thinking and let's go already," he asserted, grabbing Francis' arm and leading him to another room. They searched the room avidly, looking in closets and calling the young boy's name. With every passing moment, Francis' voice grew strained and hoarse, he moved a lot slower but he was still going. Arthur watched as this man moved from room to room, he was clearly exhausted and every time they didn't find his son, his heart seemed to shatter just a little bit more.

Sometimes they would run into Gilbert and Elizaveta, both parties a little hopeful, but only depressed more when they realized that the other group hadn't found the boy. Every couple of minutes, Arthur would run back to the ball pit to check on Alfred, mainly to check if he was okay and if he had seen Matthew. Every time the answer was the same, the boy would shake his head and mention his hamburgers. His father would assure him that the burgers would indeed arrive, but he did ask Elizaveta if he could grab a snack from the fridge so that his son wouldn't get too hungry. The last time he had gone to check, Alfred had fallen asleep on the slide so his father scooped him up and brought him to the nap room and settled him on a cot. As he walked back to Francis, he saw Gilbert checking the back door.

"It's locked," the German confirmed. Francis released a breath of relief.

"So that means he must be in here somewhere?" the Frenchman reasoned, checking some rooms again.

"Maybe when we were running around, he managed to get back in the front room or find Alfred?" Elizaveta suggested.

"He's not with Alfred," Arthur confirmed. "I just put him down for a nap." Francis turned to look at him.

"He must be exhausted," he realized. " I am so sorry for keeping you here, maybe you should-"

"I'm not going anywhere," the Englishman said sternly. "Not until I know Matthew is safe with you." Francis simply stared at him. This stranger that he had met only over hour ago. This British man who he had only thought of as a cute face, with alluring eyes but hidden by those extremely bushy eyebrows, was spending his day helping him. And who was he? Why did he deserve this? Francis didn't have time to really question the kindness of others; he really needed to find his son. So he merely whispered a quick 'merci' to Arthur.

"I think we should go check the front," stated Gilbert.

"Ok, you guys go ahead, I'm going to get Alfred," claimed Arthur. The other adults nodded and took off for the entrance. As Francis looked around the front room once more, he noticed a coat closet that they may have missed before. The Frenchman surveyed the small room but since everyone was gone, there weren't many coats and it was easy to see that it was empty. Gilbert and Elizaveta were looking under the front desk and in the bathroom and Francis didn't know where to look next. That's when he saw it. The front door was open, just a little but definitely enough for a four year old to push through. As he realized this his heart sank into his stomach and a feeling of dread washed over him.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review :)