Oh God... I probably shouldn't even be writing this, since I have another ongoing fic that will have to be updated less regularly because of this, but the idea for this story just stuck and wouldn't go away. Partially inspired by Gakuen Hetalia and other highschool!Hetalia fics, this will almost indefinitely turn out to be novel-length. There will be several story arcs, nearly all of which are based on ships; a few of them are major (and you'll easily be able to guess which ones), some are side-stories, and some are minor compared to the others. And then some ships will be present, but not really delved into.

All of the ships involved are: GerIta, FrUK, Spamano, PruHun, AusHun, AusSwiss, (mostly)platonic!Grandpa Rome/Germania (Grandmania?), Giripan, RusBel, CanUkr, LietPol, AmeViet, ThaiTai, SuFin, DenNor, and HongIce.

Meanwhile, there is some extremely minor genderbending—and when I say extremely minor, it really is. I only genderbent Iceland and Cyprus. And I usually hate genderbending of any kind, but I just wanted a couple more girls present. And as for the characters that weren't given official human names, I just looked up their fanon human name or names from their country. If you don't know who a country is, you can just ask.

Anyway, this is my first AU fic for anything, so it feels sort of weird to be writing this. I actually haven't written anything but headcanons until now. But I'm also able to add clever twists to both canon and actual history, so I like it.

Also, I'll be switching between POVs a lot, but it'll be in 3rd person omniscient, so you'll know what everyone in the immediate area is thinking most of the time. These first two chapters are sort of like a prologue, since it's introducing the characters and showing what happens before the first day. I split it into two both because I wanted to establish that it was a multichapter fic as soon as I could, and because I didn't want the compilation of introductions to be terribly longer than the rest of the chapters. Some of the characters in the introductions you will see in nearly every ensuing chapter, some you will see occasionally, and one or two you might not see for a rather long time.

One last thing: The story rating may go up to M later for sexual situations. Underage sexual situations. And I know that a lot of people thing that's wrong, but this is a highschool story, and so I'm being realistic according to what happens in highschool. As a person in tenth grade myself, I know what goes on: I knew plenty of people in my Freshman year who had already lost their virginity. It happens.

Now, this is where I apologize for such a long A/N and tell you to (hopefully) enjoy the story! ^_^

Feliciano scooped some of the pasta he had had for dinner the night before into a small Tupperware container, giving himself a liberal amount of it and humming some random tune while he did. Stretching a bit (and briefly hating that he was so short), he reached up to open the microwave that was attached to the upper cupboards and put the pasta in, pausing a moment before deciding that thirty seconds should be enough for reheating.

Just as the timer started going down, he smiled to himself and practically skipped over to the fridge to get a soda to put in his lunchbox.

"How can you be so fucking cheerful?" came an annoyed voice from the bar at the end of the kitchen next to the fridge. As Feliciano closed the fridge door, he saw the frowning face of his older brother, who was sitting at the bar and almost violently ripping apart an orange.

"Hm?" Feliciano wondered innocently, walking back over to the microwave and putting away the soda.

Lovino felt his eye twitch slightly, and he furrowed his brow further than it already was. "It's your first day of highschool—how are you still managing to be so fucking happy?" Really, his little brother's cheerfulness was so annoying….

"Hey, Lovi—language."

Their grandfather had walked into the living room behind them just as the expletive had been said and the microwave beeped—and Feliciano hurried to take the pasta out, put the lid on the Tupperware, and put it away in his temperature-constant lunchbox before it could cool down a single degree.

"Morning, Grandpa!" he greeted with a wide grin as he turned around.

"Morning, Feli," Roma returned with the usual laugh in his voice, appearing to have gotten over his older grandson's verbal abuse pretty quickly. "So, what's Lovi on about this morning?" He'd said that somewhat exasperatedly, since Lovino was always so grumpy and bitter about something.

Ignoring the insinuation, he bit into a slice of orange and said, "I was asking him how he wasn't a nervous wreck like he should be on the morning of his first day of highschool. I sure as hell wasn't like he is—"

"Well, that's because you're never cheerful," his grandfather cut in, smirking. "Maybe you shouldn't try to bring him down with you—try to be more like him." It sounded lighthearted, but it was a serious suggestion. And one that Lovino had heard too often and was really tired of hearing.

Lovino really hated being told to be more like his younger brother. He'd never been given enough attention as a small child, he'd never been as likable, and he'd never been as cute—even though they practically looked identical. So what was the point in trying to be cheerful or have an at least somewhat appealing personality, anyway?

"You still didn't answer my question," he shot to Feliciano, who was closing his lunchbox (bag? box? whatever, it was some sort of cloth in a box-shape).

"Well, Lovino, I thought it would be obvious," he began, turning around again. His high-pitched voice was making the superior tone even worse; and Lovino resented being talked to as though he was the dumber brother. Which he sort of was—but that wasn't the point. "It's my first year with Ludwig again, you know? And I really don't care how big and scary the highschool is, because I'm just really excited to have classes with him after so long…."

Feliciano smiled fondly, thinking of his best friend, as he picked up his backpack off the floor and hoisted it onto the countertop so he could put his lunchbox in it. Sure, Ludwig had come back from his long stay in Germany about a month ago, during the summer, but school was different. He'd spent the last three years alone, without any protector from the larger students… and now he wouldn't have to.

"Oh, so it's the damn potato-bastard you're so happy about?" said Lovino, scowling at his brother's smile. "You've had him over enough for the past month; it's not like you haven't gotten used to him—"

"Come on, Lovino, cut it out," Roma intervened, putting one hand on the bar. "It's been three years since he's seen his best friend…."

"Yeah, well, maybe he could make some other friends, is all I'm saying…," he grumbled, stuffing another slice of orange into his mouth. "Or get a fucking girlfriend…."

"Lovi," said Roma sternly, but sighing afterward because he knew he really should have gotten used to this by now. And then he turned to his other grandson. "I'm sure Feli'll get a girlfriend pretty quick, though, he's so cute…. And now that he's going to highschool, there'll be so many more pretty girls to go for!"

As easy as he normally found it to smile at anything, Feliciano had to force himself to smile in fake agreement at his grandpa's grin. Really, though—he wasn't sure if he wanted a girlfriend. At the thought of having a romantic relationship, every part of him turned to think of Ludwig, and he wasn't completely sure why.

"Oh—and before I leave for the school," Roma said suddenly, "you two check this out—"

The boys hardly had time to raise their eyebrows before their grandpa grabbed the knees of his pants and pulled, ripping the bottom halves completely off. Roma then grinned and paused, allowing them time to react.

"What… the hell was that?" said Lovino, half-confused and half-annoyed.

"I got them last week!" he announced, feeling and looking rather proud of himself. "Now I don't have to change during the day—I can walk around normally when they're just pants, and then they're shorts when I'm being a coach. Nice, right?"

Unlike his brother, Feliciano was actually impressed. Well, he was pretty easily impressed by a lot of things….

"That's cool, Grandpa! But it's not like it'll be gross if you walk around in shorts, since your legs are pretty toned for a fifty-four year old…."

"Ah, don't remind me." Roma's smile only shrunk a little as he bent down to reattach the pant legs at the Velcro spots. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm still thirty. Now, I'm off… don't fight, be good, I'll see you two after school if not sometime during!"

With that goodbye, he slung his coach's bag over his shoulder and walked out of the front door, leaving Feliciano and Lovino alone again.

"Ugh… old weirdo," the older one muttered.

"Aw, he's really not that bad!" Feliciano half-whined.

"Are we talking about Grandpa or the potato-bastard right now?"

All Feliciano did at that was give a small "Hmph," as he really hated when his brother insulted his best friend. But after about ten minutes of silence, in which he got his own orange for breakfast (and already finished it), he supposed that Lovino was probably just jealous, since he didn't really have any friends himself… and then he felt sorry for him.

He couldn't think of anything to say to him, though, before Lovino said, "Alright, let's go out to wait for the bus."

And then he was too excited at the prospect of seeing Ludwig to care.

"Come on, Lud, stop being so serious—you'll see your precious little Feli soon enough, anyvays…."

Ludwig fretted with the collar of his shirt one more time before throwing his older brother a glare, at which he just grinned. And Gott, Gilbert looked almost insane when he grinned like that…. Well, he definitely was insane—with at least some Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but the appearance of it was amplified by his being an albino.

But Ludwig was too busy being annoyed both at being called "Lud" and Gilbert's comment about Feliciano to dwell on that.

"You cannot just tell me to stop being serious," he told his older brother, his voice deep and annoyed. "Zat vould be like… telling you to get rid of zat ridiculous bird."

Raising his hands protectively in front of the chick on his shoulder and looking deeply insulted, Gilbert said, "Gilbird is not ridiculous! I've had him for seven years, and he's still alive—he's immortal!" The chick then gave a small peep, as though to confirm what he'd said.

Exactly my point, thought Ludwig, sighing inwardly. Without looking at his brother, he walked over to the couch and opened his backpack for the third time that morning to make sure that he wasn't missing anything, and then said, "Eizzer vay, I don't see vhy you're so confident. It's your first day at highschool, too—vell, American highschool, anyvay…."

"Ze answer to zat is obvious—because I am awesome!" Gilbert raised his arms dramatically and paused, his eyes closed, for a second or so, as though waiting for some sort of applause. All he got was another peep from Gilbird. Feeling that that was enough, he slid off of the kitchen counter, where he'd been sitting, and walked over to the living room couch, where Ludwig was standing and glaring. "Vhat vould I have to be vorried about, eh? I finally get to reign supreme und wreak havoc vis Antonio and Francis again—and you have Feliciano, so you really shouldn't vorry eizzer."

Folding his arms (and feeling Gilbird tighten his talons on his shoulder at the movement), he raised one eyebrow challengingly.

The look on his face was one of exasperation, and Ludwig really didn't feel like arguing, but he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, "In case you've forgotten, zare are a lot of tsings I've forgotten. I'm going to need Feliciano a lot to… to help me remember vhat I forgot vhile I vas sick. Und I haven't been to American school in tsree years, so of course zis is stressful."

But Gilbert looked unimpressed, which annoyed Ludwig further.

"Vhat, you don't trust Feli to help you? Und you don't sink having our grandpa as ze principal vill help?" At Ludwig's stony expression, he was only finding it more hilarious. "Kesesesesese… you just really need to lighten up. Stop being so OCD. Oh, und have I got crumbs on my ass?"

Remembering that he'd been sitting on the counter, where food was generally, he turned around to let his brother see the bottom of his jeans. Ludwig gave him a quick glance and said "No," but he didn't comment on anything else Gilbert had said. Not out loud, anyway.

Of course I trust him, but zat doesn't mean I can't be nervous about all ze people I must have forgotten. Ludwig frowned, making sure not to show too much of his anxiety before absentmindedly straightening his belt again and walking into the kitchen to grab a bagel. Und having him vith me all ze time vill take a while to get used to….

In a good way, of course. Three years ago, at the end of fifth grade, he had been forced to leave his best friend and go with his family to Germany for some time because of family issues. Back then, he hadn't known how long he'd have to be away, but he'd promised Feliciano that he would come back. And while there, he'd even written to him several times—until he, his mother, and his father had gotten extremely sick. The illness had eventually killed his parents, and his mind had been greatly affected by it—ergo, he had lost a lot of memories. The one thing he had remembered above anything else, luckily, was Feliciano, and he'd missed him all throughout the sickness. Soon after he was all better, he, his grandfather, and his brother had all moved back. After three damn years… It had been much too long a time. It was still hard to believe that he was back with Feliciano again, especially considering how surreal it had seemed when Ludwig had shown up at his door about a month ago and enveloped him in a crushing hug….

And finally being with Feliciano again also felt a bit confusing, because there were a lot of feelings there that he didn't recognize. He couldn't remember whether or not he'd always felt those….

Okay, zat's enough. Ludwig shook away all those thoughts and just focused on not letting crumbs drop from the bagel he was eating.

"Are you sure zat's a good idea, Lud?" jeered Gilbert. "You might have to sweep ze floor und go brush your teeth again vhen you're done…."

Unfazed by the derisive comments about his obsessive-compulsive tendencies, Ludwig opened a nearby cupboard and pulled out a paper plate to eat over, and then threw his brother a challenge accepted sort of look. Gilbert just sighed, and then reached in his pocket for a comb to fix his hair with. Ludwig almost snorted.

He wasn't going to tell his little brother, but Gilbert was rather eager to finally see Elizaveta again—almost more than he was than to see his two best friends. He hadn't kept in touch with her as much as he had with Antonio and Francis, and so he wasn't all too sure as to what she'd been up to… he wondered if it had been as much fun beating up Roderich without him for the past three years….

As Gilbert had warned, Ludwig did feel the need to brush his teeth a second time after the bagel; and he spent a lot of the time while waiting at the window next to the front door straightening the stacks of paper on the nearby computer desk. He was waiting for the bus to come—according to the school website, it was supposed to stop very close to their house, and he didn't feel the need to go out there until it was necessary. All the while, Gilbert was just sitting on the couch and flipping through television channels.

"I don't understand vhy you're riding vis your friends vhen ze bus vill get you to school faster…," said Ludwig at some point, narrowing his eyes. "Und it's not like you get more sleep zat vay, because you vake up just as early as I do."

Yeah, well, that was because he was awesome.

"Vunce again, bruder, you just don't get it, do you?" Gilbert turned around and rested his arms on the back of the couch, looking at him in a sort of superior way. "I'm a sophomore, und I have to make und keep a reputation. It's cooler to ride in a car vis your friends to school—especially if said car if open-roof. Vhich it is."

Ludwig might have commented sarcastically on that if he hadn't seen the bus heading down the street from out the window—at which he immediately left out the front door, not even saying goodbye to his brother.

There was only one other person at the bus stop; he was pretty sure Feliciano had told him his name was Roderich one of the times he'd come over during the summer (which had been every day that Ludwig wasn't over at his house). However, he also saw, about four houses down, someone that looked his age hurrying out of his house—but also taking a little girl along with him and getting into his car.

V-Vash…? Yes, Vash, he was pretty sure that was it…. That guy had always been mean to Feliciano, as he now remembered. But he was now a little confused as to why Vash was driving when the bus was less than a minute away from getting to their stop…. Hm. Odd.

Within the minute, the sound of the tires came to a temporary stop and the bus doors opened, signaling for him to begin his first year of highschool.

Sighing, Vash carefully pulled the loop of ribbon tight in order to finish the bow. He kneeled slightly to look at it from eye-level to determine that it was straight. When he saw that it was, he flattened a little bit of his younger sister's hair that was sticking out.

"Thanks, big brother!" said Lilly happily, turning her head slightly to look at her hair ribbon in the mirror. She was oblivious to the frown on her brother's face.

"You're welcome," he sighed again. "But I still think you really shouldn't have cut your hair short over the summer…. You're going to look so different to so many people, you know."

But Lilly just smiled up at him through her bedroom mirror. "I don't care what anyone else thinks of my haircut, I'm just happy to be like you."

God—how could he resist just a slight smile when she said things like that…. Honestly, Vash was glad to know she looked up to him that much, especially because of how much more of a role he took in her life than their parents, but he wished she wouldn't try to be so selfless. That was his job.

At least he had been able to convince her not to start dressing like him.

"I—um, thanks. Now,"—He checked his watch, glad to see they were on time—"my bus comes in about five minutes. So"—He bent down to kiss her on the forehead—"I'll see you after school, okay?"

"Okay." Lilly smiled up at him again and watched him leave her room.

Once Vash had grabbed his backpack from his room and headed toward the front door, though, he realized something odd—there was no one in the living room. Were… were his parents still asleep?

A dash down the hallway and to the slightly open door of their bedroom told him that they were. Dammit, you can't even be awake to drive your own daughter to school? Vash had to stop himself from kicking at their door and telling them to wake their asses up (because he knew how well that would turn out later), and then he had to stop himself from turning around the blame on himself for not having realized they weren't asleep earlier.

So he mentally swore a couple more times and then ran back into a surprised Lilly's room.

"Vash, what—?"

"Mom and Dad are both asleep, so I need to drive you to school. Do you have all your things ready?"

She couldn't honestly say that she was surprised her parents weren't ready this morning, but she did find it frustrating. And she was still getting over the surprise of Vash announcing he would take her.

"Yes—"

"Then come on, let's go. I need to make sure I'm not late to my own school, too."

Lilly nodded and hurried to sling her backpack onto her back before following her brother out of her room, waiting for him to find their father's car keys, and then letting him grab her hand and pull her out the front door.

Vash managed to keep a straight face in spite of his frustration: No, he wasn't annoyed at having to help his little sister, whom he cared about more than anything—he was just still pissed at his parents. And he couldn't even legally drive yet, not for a few more months… but he'd have to risk both the police and whatever his parents decided to do to him if only to get Lilly to school.

The amount of cops in this town wasn't that big, anyway, and he was a pretty good driver, so he didn't think he'd have a problem.

As he and his sister got in the car, he noticed that his own bus was already coming, but he pretended not to and instead focused on getting the car out of the driveway.

At least I won't have to be in confined space with Roderich this morning, he thought.

A sharp tapping noise pushed him toward consciousness, and for one brief second, Arthur's heart leapt, for he thought it might have been an owl at his window (coming rather late, he might say). But then his vision became clearer, and he saw something else outside his window. Something very French, and definitely not what he'd ever wanted to wake up to.

Scowling and groaning, he sat up halfway and crawled over to unlock and slide open the window that was directly to the left of the head of his bed. On the other side was an urgent-but-amused-looking Francis, who appeared not to have shaven in the past week (definitely on purpose).

"The hell are you here for, Frog?" grumbled Arthur, rubbing his head and still trying to wake up all the way.

Francis raised both of his eyebrows, staring at him and using his right arm to support himself as he leaned forward. "Um, school? Ze first day of it?"

It took a second or so for Arthur to understand what the other boy was getting at, at which he shouted "Bloody SHIT!" and jumped up so quickly that he might have busted his head open if he had been leaning out the window at all. "Did—did my brothers—?" He immediately grabbed at his bedside table for his alarm clock—which was off. And then for his phone, which would have had an alarm… which was also off.

"God dammit, those wankers did this last year too!" he yelled, imagining Peter, Oliver, and Seamus all giggling and turning his alarms off; he wanted to throw his phone on the ground in his frustration.

Unable to help but find Arthur's panic amusing, but at the same time feeling a bit of pity for him, Francis grimaced and leaned his head in further. "I know, because you ranted to me about zem for about a week afterwards. Even zough we were in different schools and I didn't live near you. Anyway, I 'ad a feeling zat might 'appen again, so I texted you, but got no answer. So… need a ride, zen?"

Narrowing his eyes at Francis (however grateful he knew he should have been and really was) to give him a What do you think? expression, he said, "Of-bloody-course, idiot—"

"Oh, and afterwards, do you want Antonio to drive you to school?" said Francis, smirking suggestively.

Arthur was confused for a second, but then he grabbed his pillow and threw it at Francis's face. He laughed and threw it back.

"'Urry up and get dressed, zough—Antonio and Gilbert are waiting, and it's not too long before school starts."

And the Brit did just that, though Francis could have sworn he heard him mutter "Don't tell me what to do, you bloody Frog…," which only made him keep smirking. Arthur was dashing across his room and pulling out the first pair of underpants, trousers, and shirt that he could find with no preference, and swearing under his breath every couple seconds or so—and Francis was still leaning on his bedroom window, casually watching everything.

As he had been faced away from the window most of the time, Arthur was already out of his underwear (which was the only thing he slept in) and into a new pair when he remembered that Francis was still there—and turned around to see his stupid, smirking face.

"Don't watch, pervert!" Arthur was fully aware that Francis had probably just seen him naked about ten seconds ago—and not that nothing similar had ever happened before, considering how much of a pervert the Frog could be, but he was going to find every excuse he could to be angry about it.

It angered him even further that Francis didn't argue (not that he wanted him to argue, because he definitely didn't), but merely raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips, and said, "Fine. It's not as zough you 'ave much to look at, anyway."

He was just about to continue the argument with a "And what's that supposed to mean?", but he then realized that he ought not to waste time and instead finished pulling his trousers on. The bickering could be saved for once he was in the car.

Francis was still repeatedly glancing so much that it could be called watching, anyway.

In another minute or so, Arthur was dressed and had his (luckily already prepared) backpack; and he didn't bother trying to fix his hair before hopping up on his bed, opening his window a bit wider, and grabbing Francis's hand so he could help him out of the window.

But then his eyes widened and he jerked his hand away, saying, "Hold on—just one more thing—" And he came back two seconds later with his copy of Half-Blood Prince in one hand. Francis took his hand again and helped him out, sniggering.

"Onhonhon, you're rereading 'Arry Potter again?"

Arthur had jerked his hand out of Francis's grip when he didn't automatically let go, and he was now almost sprinting to the street in front of his house with the French jerk. Furrowing his extremely bushy eyebrows in a scowl, he unwittingly went a little red in the face. "I—no, not the whole series—just this one. It's my favorite." A small groan of discomfort escaped his throat, showing his slight embarrassment and annoyance.

"Well, it's too bad your letter to 'Ogwarts 'asn't come, because zen I would be rid of you," said Francis mockingly as they reached the open-roof car, where his two other friends were waiting. It made Arthur even angrier.

Really, it made him angrier than anything when Francis—or anyone else—mocked Harry Potter. Or anything else that was British, for that matter.

"You two took your sveet-ass time!" Gilbert said obnoxiously, turning around in his passenger's seat to give Francis an impatient look. "Hurry up und get in ze car, ve haven't got all morning."

Arthur wasn't surprised to see that the German was back and a part of their friend group again after three years, but he was surprised to see that he still had that stupid little chick with him. Was it actually still alive…?—he really wanted to reach out and poke it just to see… but he didn't. And he was pretty miffed that Gilbert had to be back at all…. The Bad Touch Trio—as they'd called themselves since elementary school—had been just as fine (and less annoying) without him.

"You know, Gilbert," Antonio started, somewhat of a laugh in his voice, "you seem pretty anxious to get to school this morning. Did you hit your head on something while you were in Germany, or have I just forgotten how much you love school?"

Not knowing whether or not the Spaniard was serious, he hesitated slightly. "I—vell, Gilbird's hungry, und I didn't give him breakfast zis morning, so ve need to get to school und get him some cornflakes from a machine or sometsing."

It didn't sound believable, not even to the awesome Gilbert, but no one said anything. Not even Arthur, who had put on his seatbelt and was getting pretty annoyed so far.

And then Antonio put the car in drive again, at the same time turning on the radio to some Spanish station.

"Oh 'ell no, Antonio," groaned Francis, "turn on sometsing else, please."

"Oh mein Gott—ve told you earlier, no!" Gilbert said in about the same tone, holding his forehead in one hand as though facepalming himself for an extended period of time. "Even Gilbird hates it!"

"Ugh, fine, but you guys are tasteless when it comes to music." Then Antonio changed it to Mumford and Sons, which the rest of the car was okay with.

"You know," said Francis suddenly, taking the chance once his friends were finished arguing to turn to Arthur, "you 'aven't tsanked me yet." The Brit scowled at him, and he smirked. "And you would 'ave been screwed if not for me."

"I've refrained from hitting you yet today, so that should be enough," Arthur growled.

"Well, in France, a proper tsank-you is to kiss ze ozzer's 'and. Go a'ead, try and be polite for once." And he held out his left hand, just so he could see the look on Arthur's face.

He narrowed his eyes and scrunched his nose down at the hand in front of him, and then reached up to grab it—and for a second Francis thought he was actually going to do it, but then Arthur took his fingers and bent them back hard. Really hard.

"Ow!" Pulling his hand back, he threw a scowl to the boy next to him. "Mon dieu, was zat really necessary?" Without giving him time to answer, though, Francis reached his hand over extremely quickly and briefly to grab the book on Arthur's lap.

"Hey—you give that back this instant, you foppish twit!"

"Onhonhon, zat's really ze best you 'ave to insult me wis, Rosbif?" laughed Francis, holding the copy of Half-Blood Prince high out of Arthur's reach. He was really enjoying the panicked look on the other's face….

"You know very well that I woke up a few minutes ago and that I could insult you better otherwise, Frog—just give—it—back!"

Then Arthur punched him in the stomach (though definitely not as hard as he could have), and Francis let out a groan of pain before lowering his arm and dropping the book.

"'Ey, it's not my fault your brozzers 'ate you enough to turn off all your alarms…."

"What, and you're saying it's mine?"

"Zey certainly don't 'ate you for no reason at all—and it's probably for ze same reason everybody else does."

Okay, that was too far: Everyone in the car knew it (judging by the very slight gasps of both Antonio and Gilbert—and a peep from Gilbird), even Francis, who honestly felt sorry afterwards. But it didn't matter in the next second because Arthur robbed him of the chance to utter anything similar to an apology by resuming the argument about nothing in particular, and at a higher volume.

Meanwhile, Antonio was gradually turning up the noise level of the radio in order to drown the two in the backseat out, and Gilbert was giving them glares through the rear-view mirror that neither of them managed to catch during their bickering. But they kept getting louder and more violent—to the point that even the radio combined with the surrounding traffic of other upperclassmen driving to school couldn't drown them out. And people in surrounding cars were starting to stare… especially when the arguing and insults progressed to hitting.

Gott… Zis is so not awesome, thought Gilbert, rubbing his hand harshly down his face, as though trying to rub off the annoyed feeling. The morning of his first day at American highschool, and he was already having to deal with Francis's stupid little British friend…. Looking over to the driver's seat, he saw that Antonio didn't seem too annoyed—well, yeah, but that was Antonio. The guy was always pretty cheerful.

And then, with an inward groan, Gilbert scooted to the left as far as he could so that he could turn around and see them directly: Francis had a hold of Arthur's shoulders, and it seemed that he was just about to pin him to the seat of the car. He didn't know whether to push their faces together or to swipe a hand in between them.

But he didn't think he'd have even been able to grab their heads very easily from the spot he was in, so he went with the latter.

And Arthur and Francis were very surprised to be interrupted in the middle of their (now mostly physical) fight by the German's hand between them—and having gone so fast that it might have cut one of their noses off. Without letting go of each other, they both turned to him.

"Here's an idea—how about you two save it for vunce ve're inside ze school?" snapped Gilbert, his voice getting even more obnoxious than usual near the end. "Dammit, Francis, vhy did you insist so much on picking him up?"

With that, he turned back around in his seat triumphantly. Silence ensued for the next couple of seconds or so, in which the two boys in the back reluctantly released their grip on each other and, grumbling, eased back into normal seating positions.

Both Francis and Arthur at least subconsciously knew the answer to that question, but neither of them planned on saying it: Because the two of them had been best-frenemies almost as long as the Bad Touch Trio had existed, and that was one of those friendly things that Francis did. In spite of their differences, they talked a lot and knew many personal things about each other—and they hated each other, but only they were allowed to hate each other.

Likewise, only Francis was allowed to humiliate Arthur; he wasn't going to let Peter and Oliver and Seamus do it instead.

But at the moment, both of them were thinking along the lines of Yeah, why the hell did he/I…?

"Heh, you know—honestly, I don't mind," laughed Antonio, who finally felt that it was his place to talk. "It's actually pretty cute."

Through the rear-view mirror, they could see that the Spaniard was smiling… smiling like he knew something they didn't.