Really, He's a Nice Guy (2P FrUK - APH)

As soon as Oliver had moved to a new town everyone in his new school liked him. He had more people whom he could consider friends then he could count on both hands. So it was a wonder to the student body why he spent the majority of his time hanging around Louis Bonnefoy.

The French student was...a bit to be had, to put it one way. His personality consisted of dry wit and often times a sour mood. Appearance: Scruffy.

“Dude, I just don't get it.” Alfred, a blonde haired American had brought up one day. “What do you see in that killjoy?”

“He's a nice guy, really.” Oliver had defended, and then grinned wide. “He is, I'm sure of it, you just have to believe so.”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say Ollie”

/OOO/

Knock.....Knock....

Louis looked up from the novel he had been engrossed in at the sound of someone at his door. He waited a moment, to see if the person would just go away, but when the knocking sounded again he heaved a sigh. He book-marked his spot, stubbed out his cigarette and made his way to the door.

“Evening mate.” On his doorstep stood Oliver Kirkland, box in hand. His purple pull-over sweater vest accented his ungodly pink hair and his blue eyes shined as he smiled.

“Um...hello.”

“Sorry to drop by unannounced and all, I hope I didn't interrupt anything. But you see I was baking and ended up making far too many cupcakes and well, I hate for them to go to waste so I thought that maybe you would like some.” He handed him the box of baked goods and smiled wider when the taller man accepted it.

“Eh, merci I guess. You didn't interrupt much, I should probably have gotten up to start dinner anyways.” An awkward silence. “Would you, er...like to come in then?”

“Oh, um how nice of you.” The shorter male perked up. “Yes, thank you.”

It hadn't been the first time Oliver had been over to the Frenchman's house, so he knew the lay out fairly well. He also knew that Louis practically lived on his own anyways.

“My parents work out of town, I only see them maybe once a month.” He had explained when Oliver had pried just a bit.

“What are you fixing?” Oliver asked as he followed him to the kitchen, and proceeded to tell him all about his dinner of Apple-wood Smoked Steak he had prepared and the amazing sale on beef they had that week at the super marked. Louis only nodded along in response, not really listening as he set the box of cupcakes down on the counter and reached into the freezer to pulled out a box.

Oliver 's gasped “That's what you're having for dinner?” He asked as he swiftly took the TV dinner from the others hand. The Frenchman's eye twitched a bit in annoyance and snatched the box back.

“Oui.”

Oliver blinked his eyes. “Surly not?” And again he took the box from the man's hand and threw it back into the freezer. Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Exuse-moi?” He grumbled.

But the comment had been lost on the pink-haired boy as he began going through the cupboards and refrigerator, taking various things out as he went. Oliver had his suspicions that the Frenchman didn't cook, but he had no idea his diet consisted of TV dinners and other store-bought, packaged goods.

“Do you eat those every night?” He asked as he rummaged around for a pot. Louis sighed a bit in frustration as he moved the other out of the way and pulled one out for him.

“Non, I order in once in a while.”

“Well that just won't do, eating like that isn't healthy at all!”

At that Louis had to give a small laugh. Considering the condition of his home (Cluttered, though not all together dirty), and the fact that he smoked and drank made the way he ate seem not so bad to him.

“Go wait in the living room mate, I'm going to fix you a proper meal.”

Louis only shrugged and made his way back to his book. He had known Oliver only a few months, since he had moved to his town, but already he knew that once his mind was set, that was that. A home cooked meal wouldn't kill him. He lit another cigarette.

/OOO/

“Do you go this 'all-out' with everything you cook?” The Frenchman asked as a casserole and plate of roles was placed on the table before him. Before that could even occur he had had to move all of the papers and random what-nots off of the table, along with an ash tray, to appease Oliver. Also, he had no idea that he even had half of the stuff it took to prepare the meal in his kitchen.

“Why yes, I suppose so. It's always good to have a well-rounded meal.” The pink-haired boy said with a smile.

After Louis had finished eating (He had eaten over half the food Oliver had prepared, which made the pink-haired boy happy that his friend found his cooking good) Oliver cleared the dished and began running them and the numerous other dirty dishes in the sink. Louis watched for a few minutes, surprised that anyone would willingly do his dirty dishes, but shrugged it off as he grabbed one of the cupcakes Oliver had made and stalked back to his novel. Even with the interruptions, he had almost finished it.

/OOO/

“Ah yes, all done. Sorry that took so long.” The Frenchman looked up. Incredible timing, as he had just finished the last chapter of his book. He looked at the clock.

“Mon Dieu, why did that take you so long?” He got up and stalked back to the kitchen to find it completely cleaned and over-hauled. “Uhh....”

“Oh yeah, I found some cleaning stuff and well, might have got carried away haha.”

'We own cleaning supplies?' Louis thought to himself and glanced out the window to find it raining. Not to bad for a rainy evening, he mused. Free meal and kitchen clean.

“So I guess I'll head home now.” Oliver said as he made his way to the door. “I should have thought to bring my umbrella, darn.”

It hadn't occurred to the other that he had walked all the way to his house. He knew where his the Brit lived, and it was not a short distance away.

“Hey,” Louis began, not even realizing he had started to speak. “You wanna stay here?” And there it went. He honestly had no idea what had moved him to offer something like that. Even so the other turned to look at him wide-eyed.

“Really?”

'Now's your chance to take it back.' His mind told him. “Yeah, if you want.”

“Gee thanks!” Oliver beamed, moving away from the door and giving the other a quick hug.

“Er...yeah.”

/OOO/

His house was cluttered yes, but the couch never was. It was where the Frenchman read his books and he preferred it to be non-cluttered. So it didn't take the man long to turn it into a makeshift bed for the Brit.

“Do you need to use the phone and call your parents?”

“No, they aren't home this week anyways.”

“Non?”

“Yeah, them and my sister went on vacation.”

Louis gave the other boy a strange look. “Without you?”

“Oh, I chose to stay.”

“....Uh-huh. Well you know where most things are.” And with that he stubbed out his last cigarette of the night and began his was upstairs. Oliver following close behind. He looked over his shoulder.

“Oui?”

“Well you can't expect me to sleep without night clothes do you?” The smaller man said all to cheerily. Louis scowled a bit.

“Fine.”

When he reached his room the Frenchman wasted no time rummaging through his drawers and pulled out an old gray T-shirt which he tossed to the other.

“No sweats, your boxers will have to do.”

Oliver smiled nonetheless and muttered something about having to go clothes shopping for him before he began taking his sweater vest off, or attempting to anyways. Louis smirked at the battle he was having with the fabric around him.

“Do you always have so much difficulty with that?” He asked.

The Brit chuckled airily. “Would it surprise you mate if I said yes?”

This earned a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

What was visible of the other's pale face flushed just a bit in embarrassment. After a few more moments of watching the other struggle with amusement he stalked over and with one swift tug had the offending article of clothing off of the other boy.

“You look ridiculous.” He said, gesturing to Oliver's now ruffled pink hair as he began on the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. The Brit only smiled, how annoying.

As he undid the buttons the other's pale skin began to be revealed, freckles and all. Oliver hated his freckles and used make-up to cover them. But not, apparently, on his chest and stomach.

Noticing where the other's gaze had wondered Oliver quickly slid his shirt of and pulled the gray one on over his head with much more ease than it had taken to get the sweater off.

“Well, thank you, I'm off to bed then. Thank you again!”

'He forgot his clothes.' Louis thought to himself as he slid his own clothes off and crawled into his large king sized bed. Since his parents were always away he took the liberty of claiming the master.

'What am I supposed to do with him...?'

/OOO/

Lightning flashed outside, accompanied soon after by a roll of thunder. Normally a storm like this wouldn't wake the Frenchman, and tonight was no exception. But still he was woken up.

'What the hell...' He thought as he sat up. If he heard this much pounding it was usually after getting very drunk. But he wasn't hungover in the least.

“What do you want?” He grumbled at the door, and the pounding stopped. The door flew open and a pink head of hair rushed into the room and stopped right before the bed. It was Oliver, his big blue eyes even wider as lighting flashed out the window. When the thunder rolled through he visibly shook.

“I-I'm sorry to be so rude and barge in here b-but thunder and-d lightning and...” He trailed off, looking down at his bare feet. Louis was about to tell him to just suck it up and go back down stairs when he saw a lone, single tear roll down the small Brit's face. He sighed and scooted over and silently the other crawled in next to him.

“Fuck Oliver, are you always like this during a storm?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they turn me into a right mess...”

“I'll say.” Louis mumbled. “How did you get your shirt so wet?” There was a big spot he could see on the front of his chest.

“Oh...I was going to get a glass of water to try and calm down but...”

“Klutz,” Louis sighed. “Well, take it off.”

“What?” The other looked up at him like he had suggested he likk someone for the sport of it.

“Oh Mon Dieu, I don't care about your freckles, it's too dark to see them anyway. Now take that off.”

Oliver blinked a few times before slipping the shirt off. He blushed, pulling the covers up over him. Louis just sighed again, throwing an arm lazily over the other. With another flash he was pressed right up against him.

The Brit was smaller than Louis, but had a little bit of baby fat around his mid-section.'Probably from all those damn cupcakes.' Louis mused.

Before he knew it Oliver was out like a light, like the storm had never existed, tucked close to the Frenchman's chest. And again, Louis thought, as he drifted back to sleep. 'What am I suppose to do with him?'

He'd probably be asking himself that for a long time.

/OOO/

“Oh, Louis!”

School had just ended for the day, and the killjoy teen was just about to head home when he heard his name called.

“Oui?” He asked as Oliver caught up to him.

“Um...w-well can I come over? I can cook you dinner!”

“You saw the weather report this morning didn't you?” He asked, smirking a bit.

The pink-haired boy nodded, blushing a little. “Please?”

Louis looked down at him. “Better be a damn good dinner.”

He smiled, taking the other's hand and started off. “You're such a good guy, Louis.”

“Yeah yeah....if you say so.”

Oliver beamed, leaning on the other happily. “I always have.”