A/N: This IS set in the 50's, but I am taking creative liberties with this since homosexuality was looked down upon even MORE than it is today, but I'll be making it seem fairly normal. So, yeah, writer's liberties. Yay for me~!


Alfred ground his teeth as his landing boat made its way from the battleship to the beach. He knew that once he landed, there was a very good chance he'd never see his family again. He turned to look at his brother, who looked back to him with that apprehension and worry. This was in their blood, war and death. It flowed through them like the rapid waters of the Niobara River. The boat jerked violently as it beached.

"Go! Go! Go!" the signal was shouted as the ramp collapsed, "Stay low! They got nests waiting for you!"

Alfred and Matthew looked into the eyes of the other with an intimacy that only brothers had. Their hands clasped together, promising each other for better or for worse. They were brothers and would always be together, no matter what. Then they ran to the beach that could have easily been called hell, bodies fell all around as they made it to cover. He could hear someone screaming as they were torn apart by a machine gun. An aeroplane zoomed overhead, dropping a deadly bomb on the nest that made an effort to kill the hero. The bomb fell and exploded the obstacle. He waved to the plane in gratitude before continuing farther up the beach. He shot at the Nazis coming towards him; they fell and died on impact, not overdramatic like in the flicks he used to watch.

He turned to find his brother to see him a ways below him, making his way slowly upward when suddenly a stray he had missed stood up and shot Matthew. Alfred opened his mouth to scream his brother's name-.


Then his alarm went off.


Exclaiming in surprise, the blonde fell off his bed and onto the ground. His head spun as he tried to figure out where the ceiling was, and where his floor could be. Sure, it could be obvious he was on the ground, but who would want to miss the chance of something falling up (especially if it was himself)! Once he determined he was, in fact, on his carpet, he groaned and stood up. Rubbing the back of his head, he twisted his neck and was returned with a satisfying crack. He sighed, shaking his dream out of his head. That had been, like, ten years ago. There were no more Nazis.

He slipped pants over his undergarments (and sleepwear) and, being the teenaged boy he was, simply pulled a brown jacket over a white buttoned up shirt that he wore the day before. Hey, boys will be boys, right? Dad would complain though, why was he so . . . so . . . old school? Was that the word he was looking for?

"Alfred! Are you awake!" his dad called from down the stairs. It was kind of annoying how he babied him, "School's today, remember!"

Oh yeah, that was why that horrible machine woke him up. Damn it. He hated Mondays. And he was getting a new world history teach as the rumors said. After the first one quit (Like he had no idea why!) they were stuck with an extremely strict sub that was no fun at all. Also, his anatomy teacher had pulled out because of some injuries suffered in a car accident, so he'd be stuck with two newbies. He just really hoped these people were creative and interesting and easy to sway so he could pull his grades out of the hole.

He ran down the stairs with his backpack in his arm. He'd need to eat something and brush his teeth, then find his shoes that went . . . somewhere. He ran past his dad who was sitting at the dining table with the newspaper and tea. Alfred bumped the table with his bag and the teacup rattled dangerously.

"Alfred!" the Englishman snapped, "Watch what your doing. You got five minutes before your father gets home to take you and Matthew to school." His dad paused, "Isn't that what you wore yesterday?"

Alfred blinked owlishly, guilty written all over his face, "Nooooo~."

"Oh for the love of God Alfred, I know I bought you more than a simple white shirt and pair of slacks! Put some real clothes on!"

"Okay, I will," he whined, placing waffles into the toaster, "After I get some breakfast."

He ate his food slowly, as was his plan. Yes, he knew how to pull this one off. He downed his milk just as he heard the car horn out front. Matthew jumped down the stairs lazily, long done before Alfred ever stepped out of his room while the American dashed to the bathroom, used his finger as a toothbrush, and ran out the door after snatching his bag with the call of "Bye Dad!"

"Alfred! You didn't- oh blast. That boy is going to be the death of me," Arthur muttered dangerously. That would not happen again, and to make that truth, he marched into the boy's room. This was the last time Alfred pulled something like this, oh would that boy be surprised when he got home.

Francis smiled as he two boys ran to the car . . . well, one ran. Alfred was such a naughty rascal, probably running from their dad. Matthew, on the other hand, was sweet and quiet, nothing like his older twin; even if it was only by an hour that Alfred claimed the seat of eldest. He looked from his sweet son sitting next to him, to his overly-energetic one in the back. "No one is forgetting anything, right? No missing homework, because I have errands to run and you dad is going to be at work. No missing socks and-slash-or shoes, right Alfred? And we're all set."

Alfred huffed angrily, yeah, sure, he forgot he didn't have shoes on when he hopped into the car and had to go through his first three periods in bare feet. C'mon, that wasn't as bad as middle school when he forgot his pants! Though he would die before mentioning that incident, his Papa would go on about it all day and even tell random strangers! Jeez, why did his Papa have to be French? That was just horrible, wasn't there some law that forbade intermarriage between the English and French?

"Alfred?" Matthew asked, turning to his brother in the back seat. Mattie was shy and skittish, almost a complete opposite of Alfred . . . almost. Once he got used to a situation or person, damn was he snarky (Such a kookie word: Snarky).

He looked up from his library book he had been meaning to read over break and smiled, "Yeah?"

"Are you worried about the new teachers?"

"Naw," he laughed, "I'll totally have them wrapped around my finger like no tomorrow."

Francis chuckled from the drivers seat, "Ah mon petit Alfred, you think just as I did at your age."

"DAD!" Alfred shouted, jumping up, his book flying to the seat beside him, "I didn't mean it like THAT!"

"But Alfred, you said-."

"NOT LIKE THAT!"


By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Alfred was practically in tears from embarrassment. Why was his father such a Frenchy! He jumped out of the backseat and slammed the door shut. It was January, so just after Winter Break and still cold. He buried his blushing face into his red, white, and blue striped scarf, hopefully no one would notice. Ha-ha, yeah, like he'd be able to pull that one off. After his Papa drove off, he was tackled onto the cold concrete of the courtyard while the other students attempted to avoid them. Yeah, like he thought. Gilbert laughed exuberantly at Alfred's face. Oh yeah, he got him that time! He looked like he was about to . . . cry?

Alfred pushed the retarded boy off of him, "What the hell man! Give me a heart attack, or perhaps my brains splattered on the concrete is good for you!"

"Awe, c'mon, you aren't this prissy after getting tackled to the dirt . . . usually. What's got your panties in a twist?" Gilbert cackled. Matthew simply frowned at the German (No, Prussian, he insisted on being Prussian, whatever) with his arms crossed. Seriously, Mattie and Gil were, like, BFFs since kindergarten, but the albino was too much sometimes.

"Yeah," Alfred snapped, "That's on the field you nosebleed!"

"Papa was making fun of him."

"Ooh," Gilbert acknowledged, "Makes perfect sense. Did he find out about that one night stand or-."

"OH GOD! No! And how many times must I repeat that NOTHING HAPPENED!"

Gilbert laughed even louder (if that was humanly possible). Luckily, in Alfred's mind, he started choking on air. Only Gilbert could pull that one off. When he did catch his breath and Matthew helped both of them to their feet, Gilbert smirked. "So what did your old man make fun of you for this time?"

"N-Nothing," that stutter was totally from the cold. Note-to-self: thin shirt in the middle of winter equals BAD IDEA. Okay, maybe his dad had a point in his wanting him to change. At least his pants were nice and warm.

Matthew snickered (cue snarky mode), "He was talking about how he'd butter up the new teachers and Papa took it the wrong way."

"Dude," Gilbert frowned with his arms crossed (and he totally popped a hip, no denying it!), "The new Teacher is in my dad's office right now. He's filling in both positions. Don't have a cow over it man. He's a total fream."

Gilbert's dad, Mr. Ludwig Beilschmidt, was the dean of the school, also the founder of it. As cool as it was, the guy was pretty scary, even for high-schoolers. Luckily (and sadly), Alfred's dad, Arthur, knew Ludwig from their own school days and the two got along alright. Though that couldn't be said for his Papa Francis, the two had very tense conversations due to someone hitting on some one else's significant other (no names shall be mentioned). Thanks to these "Higher connections" Alfred and Matthew got into the school without waiting years on the list, it was a charter-public school after all. Anyone could come in, but there was a waiting list and if the students didn't have a 2.0 GPA by their junior year, they were asked to be removed.

"Really?" Alfred raised an eyebrow with a devil's grin. Before he could continue, the bell rang. And look at that, he had anatomy first period. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and hefted his bag on his shoulder, "Alright-y then. I guess I best be off to anatomy then. See you later alligator." He dashed off while his brother waved him off. Once he rounded the courner, Gilbert broke out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Matthew inquired innocently, but he could guess.

Gilbert caught his breath, "Alfred is in for the shock of his life."

"Why?"

"You'll see," he sang before grabbing the other boy's arm, "Come on, we'll be late for science."


Alfred jumped into the room before the final bell finished ringing. He smirked and looked up to see . . . nothing. No teacher. Seriously! And he ran all the way here to be on time for the teacher to be late! Oh, well, fuck it all, he could have taken his time and not had any issues! He huffed and made his way to the front row, his seat being directly in front of the previous teacher's desk. He saw that the new teacher already personalized it with a pencil holder and a stack of papers. Such fascinating choices, in this sense he took after his Papa. He read people through their sense of design and fashion (though with a mad lack of teacher, he couldn't very well tell anything about his clothing). What he got so far: Simple, a conservative person who was all about business and quite impersonal. Most teachers had picture frames and such on their desks and stuff, but this one had nothing of sentential value.

The children were talking, reading, drawing; anything they usually couldn't or wouldn't do with a teacher around. This all went quiet almost immediately when the door opened and Mr. Beilschmidt walked in, followed by another man who looked younger and was taller by a good three inches. Alfred immediately latched onto the newcomer. He had ashen blonde, almost white hair and deep violet eyes that seemed to change in shades from lavender to almost indigo. They reminded him vaguely of his brother's eyes, but Mattie had gray-blue eyes that reflected as violet-ish. He wore a beige scarf that trailed down to the back of his knees, and that was lot seeing as how it was wrapped twice around his neck and in relation ho how tall he was. It looked hand-made, though he didn't know how to assess that.

This teacher also wore a long beige trench coat (there was no other way to describe it). Now that screamed something to him: "Outsider". Men didn't wear such light colours to work, maybe casually, but not on the job. He didn't even wear a hat, which was extremely abnormal . . . then again, who was he to talk. It was a little weird to have two dads, but that he did. What caught Alfred's attention though was how nervous he looked. He actually did seem odd, almost foreign. Okay, really foreign, he didn't know how to describe it though.

Mr. Beilschmidt stepped to the front of the class with his new employee trailing behind. The other children didn't let his unusual attire just fly over their heads either. Ludwig was the epitome of a man. He wore a charcoal suit with a matching hat and a black tie to match his shoes. It looked really smart on him with his corn silk blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was a man they all looked up to, seeing as he fought in the Pacific Theatre during the last Great War and proved himself a true American (though being German born, but like hell he was no damn Nazi, and even mention it to Gil and you were just cruisin' for a bruisin').

"Good morning students," Mr. Beilschmidt addressed them, cutting through Alfred's thoughts, "I am here to introduce your new teacher, Mr. Braginsky. Before I go, I want to lay down some rules and simple truths." No one groaned, though Alfred knew they normally would have. It's just that Ludwig had that certain gleam in his eyes that warned them if they tried anything, or even complained, then they were in for it. Sort of like Hitler's pictures now that he thought about it. Mr. Beilschmidt would make a perfect Nazi, in the S.S. Uniform and everything, a gun cocked on his shoulder. That scar he had above his left eye was a perfect touch.

"I will not condone any misbehavior from this class or any others. I know what is going on in the world currently, I am not ignorant. With that said, I expect you to treat Mr. Braginsky as you treat me: with due respect and understanding. I am a German, but you do not discriminate me for what has happened in the past decade, I expect the same show of conduct for your teacher. Is that understood?"

"Yes Mr. Beilschmidt," the class sang, though they really didn't understand what it was about.

"Good," he responded curtly, "I'll leave the rest of the introduction to you Mr. Braginsky. Good day everyone." With that, he strode out, closing the door behind him, once the dean was gone, the class turned stiffly back to their new teacher, who still seemed nervous, but had a sense of authority about him.

"Good morning," he said with a lilt to his speech that none of them had heard before. He rolled his 'R's briefly. It was a very smooth accent however, "I hope to get to know you all much better. Since today is my first day, and you have already studied some material, I would like to take today to know what you have already gone over and to know my students better. As such, I find it only fair to allow you to ask me whatever you want in return. How does that sound?"

There were murmurs of approval and a few nodding heads. To others it signaled a snooze period, so they lay their heads down and tried to pile up Z's. The teacher then did something they hadn't really expected a teacher to do, in, like, ever! He sat on his desk. Like, 'screw the chair', jumps on desk. It puzzled a few of the students about their new teacher. Was he seriously professional? Now Alfred could get a look at his shoes, which were knee-high brown boots that had the pants tucked inside of the hem which seemed to flap down; very peculiar shoes in his opinion, obviously from a different country. "I'll start off with role. When I call your name, please tell me something about yourself," he cleared his throat as he held the roster in his hands, "Aster, Daniel."

"Here. Um . . . I like to play soccer."

And the role went on like that. The students told the most trivial things, it was cute. Some girls would start showing off by saying how many boys they had been with, which made the teacher raise an eyebrow, which looked really funny.

"Bonnefoy, Alfred?"

"Huh, oh. Here. Um . . . I have a twin brother named Matthew." Might as well go with it.

Once the teacher was done, he put the papers aside and leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his lower thighs, entwining his fingers together. He looked to the students who looked back, he smiled slightly before straightening, "Alright, now that I know something about you, you may ask me something." A student in the back raised her hand and he nodded to her. She had blond hair that reached her shoulders with a violet bow in her hair.

"How old are you Mr. Braginsky?"

Some girls giggled at the question, the remaining boys who didn't feel like nodding made some wolf whistles. The girl blushed red, but what quieted the class was the teacher's frown. Alfred decided the frown was much cuter than the smile. "I am twenty-seven, Lilly. Any other questions?"

A boy with dark brown hair pulled in a low pony-tail raised his hand before being called on, "You were our age during World War Two, where were you during the time?"

"In my home country."

"And that is?" Alfred inquired. He saw how the nervous edge that had been seeping away flared back in his eyes. There was something he didn't really want to talk about, but he had promised. So, would he honour his promise?

"I lived in the USSR, Russia to be exact."

Silence prevailed. So that had been what Mr. Beilschmidt had been warning them about. Their teacher was a communist! Sensing the thoughts, the tall man jumped off his desk, as though standing gave him a better chance, "Now, I think at this point I should explain something. I am not Communist. I don't have any specific feelings on the government, but I have none on Capitalism either. I could really careless about which is which. All I am concerned with is: do I have a home, do I have food, and do I have income. Communist, capitalist, it means little to me. What does matter to me is my homeland and my family, as I am sure it does to all of you. I do not see myself as Soviet, but as Russian, and that is how it will always be for me. Is that understood?"

There was silence for a moment before Lilly spoke up again, "Of course Mr. Braginsky." He tone was so light and cheery, it was hard not to go 'Awe' at how completely adorable it was. Still, there was suspicion, and Alfred, though being one of the few true-blood Americans, liked this guy. He was young and seemed more like a child himself. "Yeah, no sweat. We dig. You don't have to always agree with your government, right guys?" Soft murmurs of agreement, and the icy situation thawed nicely. Alfred's blue eyes made contact with soft lavender that expressed the deepest form of gratitude.

"Now that that is done with, any more questions?"

"Can you speak Russian for us?" the Mexican girl asked happily. Other girls cooed approval.

He laughed softly, shaking his head, "Jeto stanovitsja smeshno."

"What does that mean?"

"This is becoming ridiculous," he chuckled before settling himself back on the desk, "Now, my turn. Tell me what chapters you have gone through and what information you know and what information you want to go over just in case. I heard you had a substitute for a month, so you couldn't have gone over too much already. And if you're worried about your grades, I passed you all for the first semester, but that means this semester is going to be much harder."

While the students when over what they already learned, Alfred stayed quiet. He studied his teacher meticulously, and one thing he noticed was how the other seemed to favor his left leg and walked with such a slight limp it was almost unnoticeable. This man was different from all the other teachers he had, young and vibrant. He knew them because he had been in their position not that long ago, right? Whatever, all he knew was that this guy could connect with them. That was reason enough to keep him around. And seriously, the guy was too cute some times, though he'd die before admitting it. Aloud anyway.


At lunch Alfred sat with his brother and their friends with his lunch. He took a large bite out of his cherry cobbler, dessert first, main course later. Gilbert smirked as he smashed his potatoes (and by smashed, he meant skewered and killed in the most heinous of ways), "So how did you like the new teach?"

"I like him. He's really cool and fun and he's Russian, go fig. Real young too, only twenty-eight. That made him our age during the war."

Gilbert gawked, "You do realize you called a Soviet cool, right?"

"He mad a point to explain that he was not Soviet," Alfred informed him with a grin, "And your dad would kill you if he heard you talking about Mr. Braginsky that way. Or maybe I should call you a Nazi?"

"Alfred," Matthew suddenly snapped, elbowing his brother harshly in the ribcage, "Gilbert's dad fought the Japanese, that's low going for ethnicity."

"Hey, I'm just going by his standards. The Russian's fought Hitler too, just so you know. He informed up that after the war he spent two years longer at his home before moving to America. So I think your dad and him have equal standing."

"Yeah, but did he fight?" Gilbert snapped back, taking a harsh bite out of the food.

Alfred shrugged, "I don't exactly know. He favors his left leg though, walks with a small limp. No one else in my class picked up on it and I didn't ask. I love mysteries."

"Until you can't figure them out and read the ending of the books," Mattie muttered.

"Technicalities."


After lunch they had World History. This wasn't like the required world history; this was an AP class that they decided to take instead of music or something like that. That was also what Mr. Braginsky taught.

When Matthew stepped through the door, he knew immediately what Alfred had been talking about. The young teacher was placing papers on the last of the desks and his room smelled of a food he couldn't quite name. Also, there were those eyes that greeted him warmly with that change of colour that Alfred had described to him. What screamed out to him was the innocence that shown behind those fluid shades of violet, but there was something else there. A sort of dark secret that lay buried beneath the surface. He heard a scoff and turned to see Gilbert frowning at him. What? He didn't know what the albino's problem was.

"You're staring," he snorted into Mattie's ear.

Matthew scowled, "Was not!" Then he noticed something: his brother wasn't beside him. He looked around to find him in his seat, usual Alfred would have whined and sulked and waited for him. Maybe this teacher was what Alfred really needed to save his grades. He stepped inside with the flow of other students, though there were only twelve of them. He settled beside his brother and Gilbert beside him. Once everything was over with, Mr. Braginsky gave his introduction and took roll the same as he had that morning.

Alfred didn't know why he smiled when Mr. Braginsky said "Hello again Alfred" instead of what the sub did for three weeks, not remembering faces and names. Still, he felt special for being remembered. "Hello Mr. Braginsky. Can I ask you a question instead?"

The teacher's eyes with amusement as he folded his arms lazily over his crossed legs, "Go ahead." He seemed honest-to-goodness-ly curious of what Alfred wanted to ask.

"Do my brother and I look the same?" he blurted out. Laughter ringed out, even from the Russian. He knew immediately who Alfred's brother was, they did have family resemblance, just like he did with his sisters.

"Well, Matvey and you share some similarities. Your faces and eyes are shaped similarly, but otherwise your hair has a darker hue and Matthew's eyes are more grey than blue. He gets his violet hue from the veins in the back of his eyes. They are red from the blood, so match that with the pale blue of his eyes and you get that shade of violet," he explained. How nice! He added anatomy in that! Alfred was so going to remember than now!

"Alright, thanks!" and he continued on. Once he was done he sighed, "Alright, in my other classes I gave them a free period, however I have a great affiliation with world history and I would love to get straight to it. You do not mind, do you? If you are in this class, I would have suspected that you liked it just as much as me."

Alfred raised his hand and was called on, "We were just starting the Napoleonic wars. The little French guy just became emperor and had kicked Austria's butt in Austerlitz."

"Ah, but Alfred, the Austrians weren't alone in their fight. They had been backed up by the Russian forces sent by Tsar Alexander I. He knew that he had to back up the rebellious nations if he wanted to keep Napoleon out. Prussia was around during this time and this was one of the few times that the Austrians and Prussians teamed together, though they were far from liking each other due to years of bad blood. You should remember the names Frederick II, or Old Fritz, of Prussia and Maria Theresa of Austria for the reasons as to why that was. During this war, however-." Alfred let him drown off, oh he was seeping in the information . . . as he watched those pale peach-coloured lips move with such precision.


"That's all for class today, you have five minutes before the bell, so you can talk amongst yourselves or ask me some questions." Alfred's hand shot up immediately. The man chuckled, "Yes Alfred?"

"Do you have a first name or something?"

Mr. Braginsky chuckled again, "It's Ivan. Ivan Braginsky."


A/N: Okay, so yeah. Totally longer than anything else I've done alone. This has been in the works for MONTHS now. Seriously, and did you know 50's lingo is like a completely different language! Seriously! It should be in a class as a foreign language: The Slang of the Eras. Anyway, review and I'll be uber happy~!