So yeah, this happened. Somehow it's an 80's High School AU, and here I am with like, no grasp of any character whatsoever. So please read and review. I could use the help.

Oh the powers that be,

that force us to live like we do,

Bring me to my knees when I see what they've done to you…

"Hans, we're going to have to talk. Now."

Hans yanked off his Walkman headset, and turned around to find his father standing there, arms crossed, feet apart, and eyes that could kill. That wasn't the worrying part.

Kristoff stood next to him, with pursed lips and blank eyes, a general feeling of pained disorientation emanating from him.

Damn it.

February 2nd, 1984

Chester G. Arendelle High School stood as a bastion of higher learning in Mecklenburg County, North Carolina. As one of the best public schools in the state, it was home to many opportunities, both athletic and academic, with 4A sports and one of the widest ranges of IB and AP courses available. Hans Westergard knew this, and he milked it.

Proud 2nd Basemen of the Arendelle Arrows baseball team, top 20 ranking in the class, and proud recipient of the Arendelle Articles newspaper's "Best Ride Award 1982-1983." Overall Big Man on Campus, and the effect was capped off by his regal good looks and his charming girlfriend, Anna Ostermann. Westergard was definitely going places. However, no one could say they knew him too closely…he just felt too schmooze-y and kind of arrogant. And there was something in him that no one could place...

Kristoff Bjorgman, on the other hand, was a bit of a different story. Lacking a high-flying stockbroker father complete with BMW, Kristoff remained largely to himself. While his grades were quite good, he just seemed to lack something to draw him out into the school. Everyone could say he was a cool guy, but after that, descriptions of him would always seem to taper off. He used to be normal, they'd say, until Elsa Westing broke up with him at the beginning of junior year. His brusque demeanor was a turn off to having close friends, and he was also known for his extremely unusual tendency to dress warmly no matter what part of the school year. While everyone could admit that yes, whoever controlled the school AC usually went overboard, sweaters in North Carolina in April seemed positively strange and uncomfortable.

Overall, they were both 17 year old juniors floating through high school. In fact, they both floated their way into the same English class, where they were both assigned the same English project, where they found themselves in the school courtyard, attempting to work during study hall.

"Okay," Hans started, trying to brush off the winter chill, "So first we're going to have to decide which role to take. Anna is the designated Gertrude, and Todd Wilson is the King. That leaves us Hamlet and Polonius."

"Let me guess, you're Hamlet," Kristoff said, with a tinge of derision, rolling his eyes. Their teacher was renowned for her class reenactments of Hamlet, the general bane for all non-actor students.

"No, you can be it if you want," Hans replied, a little weirded out by Kristoff's bitterness. He let it drop and read through the lines. Kristoff continued scowling, saying nothing, crunching his feet in the dead, brown grass. After a minute he looked up,

"So did you take it?" he asked accusingly.

"What? No!" Hans answered, "If you want it, take it."

Hans scoffed, angry at the verbal circle he was going in, "Are you going to sulk, or are we going to work?"

Kristoff scowled a little more.

"You know what, Kristoff, I'll be Polonius, okay? Will that make you happy?" Hans asked, sounding more than a little mothering.

Kristoff let out a groan, and stormed off.

"It was ridiculous," Hans complained, "I mean, we're assigned this, and he just will not cooperate!"

"Well, do you know what he wants?" Anna asked? These were the times when Hans felt like she didn't understand much of anything. Anna was a sunny girl, plain and simple. Her bright eyes radiated friendliness behind her oversized glasses. Her pixie cut just made her look more girlish than the opposite, and she always loved warm colors. This reflected on her all the way down to her day-glo orange Volvo. But for now, the two were at Wendy's, Anna daintily dipping fries into her Frosty as Hans complained through his burger.

"No, I don't! He got really pissed when I asked him if he wanted to Hamlet or Polonius for Ms. Peterson's Hamlet reading."

"Huh, that is odd. Maybe he…OH MICKEY YOU'RE SO FINE, YOU'RE SO FINE YOU BLOW MY MIND HEY MICKEY!"

Hans rolled his eyes. Anna never missed an opportunity to burst out into song.

"Let me guess, they were playing it on the speakers, weren't they?" He had no idea how Anna noticed the background music in places like these, but she managed.

"What, I really like that song," she explained.

Hans sighed. It looked like he would have to figure Kristoff out on his own and work on Hamlet outside school. Find out what was behind those mysterious blue eyes…

Hans tried to shake the poetic wording out of his head and focused back on Anna.

"So babe, do you still want to see a movie?"

"Not in the theaters, no. They're playing Flashdance at eight on TV.

It was her favorite movie. Hans didn't upturn his mouth at this fact, just looked straight at Anna. Sometimes Anna thought something was...strange about him, the same was she was strange. But he'd put his arm around her and he'd feel sincere.

Anna shot a quick look back at the counter, where Elsa Westing absentmindedly wiped down the counter. Elsa shot a quick look and a wan smile at Anna. Combined with the giggling when ordering, Anna's heart swooned. But he thought nothing, and she still kind of felt bad about it.

They would go back to Hans' house later that evening in his immaculate 5-Series BMW, a handed down car only six years old from his dad. They would go inside his wonderful old house in Meyers Park. He opened both the car and front doors, a perfect Southern gentleman. They'd sit in the living room, done up in slightly outdated, but nice Danish Modern furniture, and watch Flashdance at seven. They'd sit perfectly straight, with Hans' arm around her shoulder positioned perfectly crooked and somehow giving the impression he was trying too hard. It should have felt perfect, but it didn't. They were sitting too straight, a bit too far apart for it to feel right.

They were watching the scene where Jennifer Beals dumped water on herself when Hans' dad and brother came in. Hans visibly flinched, and Anna knew herself that good things weren't coming.

"Oh, hi Anna," Mr. Westergard said brusquely, "Hans, can I speak to you for a minute?"

Hans sighed and got up, palms facing outward, as if to ask for peace.

"Don't make those noises," his father snapped, and the two headed towards Mr. Westergard's study. His older brother, Jim, football star and all around scary guy, rolled his eyes.

"Here we go again. Don't know why you date that twerp, but hey, if you're down with it, I'm looking for a girl," Jim said, leering at Anna.

Anna scrunched her nose and sent a disgusted look in his direction, raising her hand to her chest. Jim shrugged and went towards his room, clomping up the stairs.

Anna was left dazed as she could hear the shouting from the study. What on Earth this was about, she didn't know. At least she had Elsa…

Kristoff quietly ate dinner with his parents, a jolly, short, rotund couple with dark hair. He shoveled meat loaf into his mouth without thinking, occasionally spooning in tomato soup.

"Kristoff, is something the matter?" his mother asked.

Kristoff grunted.

"Is it still about Elsa? Because there are other girls. You're a handsome kid, you know that?" his father continued, trying to cheer him up.

"No, I need to work on some stupid project and my partner's a jerk," Kristoff replied, still looking down into his food.

"What did he do?" his mother asked.

"I just knew he was trying to take all the best roles for himself for our Hamlet thing. We all broke up into a whole bunch of rotating groups, and he was always Hamlet. It feels so childish, but he already has everything he wants anyway. Nice car, pretty girl, pretty face...well, of his girlfriend," he stammered.

"Well, you shouldn't let this get in the way of your grades," his mother replied gently, "Just do what you need to for the best grade."

Kristoff's father was deep in thought. It didn't feel like Kristoff to be so surly over someone…

Later, Kristoff seemed to forget about it, petting the dog, Sven, as he watched TV, his homework already done. However, you couldn't help but thing something big was up, he thought.

The next day was crisp and clear, with intense blue winter skies and a happy mood amongst the school. Ms. Peterson's AP English class was no exception, as one group finished their scene from Hamlet.

"That was a good job," she said, "so that means your group is left Hans."

Hans froze. Anna and Todd had their lines done, but not Kristoff and himself.

"Well, uh…"

Ms. Peterson sighed, "Well, you can do it next class, and still get full credit, but there are no exceptions."

She walked away and Kristoff approached him in the hall leaving class.

Well, you heard her. We're going to have to do this. You can be Hamlet," Kristoff conceded, more concerned with getting the proper grade.

"So," Hans said, "We'll have to work at home. Your place or mine?"

"Well, uh, I guess mine," Kristoff said.

Hans' eyes perked up, "Good. I'll need to do some math homework so I'll see you at 5:30."

"Do you want a ride?" Kristoff asked, "My place is tricky to get to."

"Yeah, sure. See you then."

Kristoff parked in front of the Westergard household and felt very, very inadequate. A gleaming green BMW sat in the driveway, with the Bermuda grass lawn looking enticingly green and soft. Hans walked out, closed the door behind him, and got in Kristoff's beat up station wagon.

"Hey," Kristoff pointed towards the BMW, "Your Dad has a nice car."

"Actually, that's mine," Hans said, more than a bit of pride slipping into his voice, "Dad has a newer model, so he gave that one to me."

"Well, mine has an 8-Track player," Kristoff said, as if to admit defeat. To cap the effect off, he grabbed a random tape from the backseat and put it in. I Feel Love immediately began playing. Hans looked unimpressed.

"Donna Summer?"

"It was my Mom's old tape."

Two hours later, the two finished up the last touches on their parts of the scene, and had resorted to reenacting the fateful duel at the end with a broom and mop respectively.

"And finally, I avenge my crazy sister!" Hans said, thrusting the head of the mop into Kristoff's face.

"Please don't. I know we need to do this for English, but it's just not funny."

Kristoff's mom poked in the door, "Kristoff, it's so nice that you finally bring friends home!" She turned to Hans, "He hasn't done that or a while, and I know he's getting older, but still. My, you must have no problem with the girls, just look at that face. Y'know, I think Kristoff mentioned that at dinner…"

Kristoff quickly cut off his mother, who now was pinching Hans' cheeks, the mop he was holding having clattered to the floor, "Mom! Stop. Now. We're not friends."

"Well, you're certainly friendly at least," Hans quipped.

"He's right," Mrs. Bjorgman said, crossing her arms, "You shouldn't be so angry. I'll leave you two to what you were doing."

Kristoff scratched his back and apologized sheepishly, Sorry, she's kind of a hands-on, gusher kind of person."

Hans didn't mind, and in fact, had adopted a stupid, irritating smirk.

"Y'know, you haven't been that friendly to me. Come on, what did I do to you?"

"Huh?"

"What did I do to you? You've been very angry to me," Hans pouted.

"Well, for starters, you're an arrogant prick," Kristoff quipped.

Hans pretended to look shocked, "Well, Kristoff, that just part of the charm. But really, you've been very uncooperative," Hans said, stepping a little closer to Kristoff.

Kristoff flinched at Hans' intrusion into his space, and flustered a little.

"Well, uh, I, like, well...I don't know, okay Hans."

Hans' smirk grew larger with the admission of defeat of Kristoff's part, "Why Kristoff, that's not very nice. But...I think we can get past that. Do you wanna just hang for a bit? Mom and Dad don't want me back until nine."

"Uh...sure."

And that's how Kristoff and Hans found themselves shooting hoops in Kristoff's driveway, Kristoff's Delta 88 wagon parked off on the lawn.

"So," Hans exhaled, as he took a shot, "You don't look like your parents."

The ball hit the rim and Kristoff caught it.

"Well, I'm actually adopted," he said as he shot. The ball swished in.

"Oh, well, that's interesting," Hans said, "So no siblings?"

Kristoff shot again, a miss. Hans caught the ball.

"Nope. And you?"

Hans shot, bouncing neatly off the square and into the basket.

"Three older brothers. You know Jim, he's a senior. James and Chad are both at Duke."

"Oh, yeah, Jim," Kristoff said, dribbling the ball. He passed it to Hans.

"Yeah, that's what everyone says. I don't like him either."

"Do you like me Kristoff, I'm trying here?" Hans said. Deep down, he really wanted to impress Kristoff,and he didn't know why.

"Uh, sure, I guess," Kristoff said, put back by the directness, "You're not a complete asswipe like I thought."

Hans dropped the ball and grimaced as he picked it back up, "Yeow, that stung. IS that really what you think of me?"

"Hans, you drive a BMW."

Hans fired off the ball for a another basket, dribbling over to the left side of the driveway for a different shot, "Hmm, point taken."

"But I didn't mean like that. I don't hate you, you're cool." The platitudes spilled out of Kristoff's mouth as he realized that he really had insulted Hans.

Hans smiled, "It's okay, Kristoff, no harm taken. We should do this again."

"We should," Kristoff agreed.

The two said their goodbyes, and as Hans departed, Kristoff decided he really wanted to get to know Hans better, and he didn't quite know why.