Fic: Think We Are (1/8)
Genre: humor, angst of the teenage variety, pining, the usual High School Tropes
Pairings: USUK, Prussia/Hungary, Japan/Taiwan (brief)
Rating: M
Warnings: Language to the max, sex/crude language, potentially offensive POVs and nicknames, past character deaths (noncanon), bullying, brief 'slut shaming,' passing mentions of drug abuse, and teenagers(because they need their own warning).
Summary:We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us...

Scene One

"I'm being honest, asshole. I would expect you to know the difference." – John Bender, The Breakfast Club (1985)

Alfred still couldn't believe this was happening. Sure, he could remember all the whys and the hows of what had happened to lead up to this morning, but he honestly still couldn't believe he let himself do it. He didn't even fucking like Ivan Braginski and didn't give a shit that he was their best defensive tackle and that meant that he and Alfred were supposed to be the best of friends according to high school law. And yet somehow, he was here because he had listened to the dick. Because he'd wanted to look cool and show everyone else that he was better than him—that he wasn't about to let that asshead call him out in front of the rest of the football team. And now he was stuck in some lame ass Saturday detention. Detention that was going to last for eight fucking hours—Alfred was pretty sure something about that was illegal, but his parents had agreed to it and so here he was.

He stared out forlornly (hahaha, screw you English teacher, he could use fancy vocab words) from his dad's passenger seat window and tried to drown out the lecture he was getting about screwing up his chances at college ball and how his mom was so disappointed in him and how bad of an example he was setting for Matthew. It was pointless, he heard everything and got a nice big ball of guilt in his stomach (more than what he already had) to show for it, but it seemed to piss his dad off that he looked like he wasn't listening so that was kind of a victory. In like a really depressing, sad sort of way.

Alfred got along pretty well with his parents, at least as well as any healthy, red-blooded seventeen year-old guy could, but that didn't mean he liked it when they started lecturing him. Even if he'd done something worth lecturing—he was supposed to screw up and stuff. High school was the prime time to do that; having someone else's future for him consistently battered against his head again and again made him want to punch something. Figuratively because, well, he was already in detention as it was and he really didn't want any return visits. Like ever—he could do suicides or something but all day detention, Saturday detention? Never again.

"Alfred, are you listening to me?" Alfred let out a breath and looked over at his dad, at the familiar frown and disappointment that seemed to accompany every look his dad gave him these days. He resisted the urge to grin, because history told him that would not be a good idea, and tried to adopt an expression that looked like it had been paying attention. Based on how his dad's face drew tighter and more pinched, he didn't succeed. "Just—just go, Alfred. Try to actually think about why you're here so this never happens again. And phone."

"Um, what?"

"Give me your phone. You're not going to spend the next eight hours texting people and looking at videos on the internet." Oh, so not cool.

"But, what if I need—"

"We know when your detention is over, and if you need anything that's urgent, you can call from the school. Now give." Alfred glared and fished out his phone for his dad. Great—now he was really going to be bored out of his mind. His dad set his phone in his console and looked pointedly at the door. Alfred groaned, but spilled out of the car, giving his dad a fake thumbs-up for good measure before he drove off. Alfred looked up at sky and, again, silently asked why he had been such a complete idiot and gotten himself stuck here. As he expected, there was no response, so after a few moments of self-pity (he was seventeen, it was required from him) he refocused back on his very unfortunate Saturday and shouldered his bag before heading into the school.

As he started to head inside, he slowed his steps and watched as some of his fellow, doomed students trudge out of their parent's car (a humiliating punishment in and of itself, having your car taken away and having your parents actually drive you places). From the looks of it, there were only going to be four of them stuck in the library for detention.

Elizaveta Hedervary he knew and he knew well. She was the president of the prom committee, student council vice-president, a co-chair on the activities committee, and all around social butterfly-slash-maniacal queen bee. She was nice enough if you could get her one-on-one, but if she was with all the rest of her henchmen (they were sort of like all the thieves that flocked around Catwoman) odds were she would end up insulting you in some creative way. He'd once seen her reduce a freshman to tears with nothing but a sharpie and an overly-polite good-bye. Alfred hadn't really like her, but for some stupid athlete-cheerleader bonding exercise, they'd been paired together and instead of hooking up (he may have had a freak-out and admitted that he was probably gay, or at least bi, and sex kind of freaked him out as much as it enticed him…she had just nodded and hadn't mentioned a word about it since) they'd actually talked and he'd found out she wasn't such a bitch all the time. Or at all—well, no she was, but not as bad of one.

Appearances and shit—they sucked.

She looked put out and was rejecting any and all of her mom's attempts to comfort her. She ended up flouncing out of the car and walking into the school without a backwards glance, her back straight and her hips moving in time with her steps in that special way of hers she'd confessed she'd learned how to do in sixth grade.

Next, Alfred's eyes focused on Kiku Honda. Probably his class's valedictorian. And salutatorian. And whatever other smart title they gave out to students because Alfred was pretty sure Kiku would end up having them all someway. He was surprised to see him there because, as far as he knew, Kiku was physically unable to break a rule. Literally. Alfred swore up and down that he once saw him adjust his car about six or seven times in the parking lot because his car was too close to either one of the lines. But, here he was, looking completely ashamed and taking all the yelling his mom had to give him before getting out of the car. He caught Alfred's eye and nodded politely at him before heading inside, head down and fists curled up at his sides.

Alfred liked Kiku, but they weren't friends, not like they were when they were kids. They couldn't be, not with the social caste system (and take that history teacher, he so did pay attention!) high school liked to slot everyone into the moment they stepped onto campus as freshmen. He'd tried that first year, but it got too hard, for both of them, and eventually they just sort of…dissolved. He watched after Kiku even after he was already inside until their third and final comrade in arms came stumbling out of a car and up the steps. Alfred couldn't help but cringe a little.

Gilbert Beilschmidt. Oh fucking Christ, Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Now, Gilbert, Alfred was not surprised to see at Saturday detention. He'd pulled the fire alarm that Tuesday at a pep rally and then promptly streaked through the auditorium with a torch made of what had looked like wood and Styrofoam cups. He was Hetalia Academy's resident basket-case and really enjoyed his title. Alfred was still surprised he hadn't been expelled yet, but he guessed that having wealthy alumni as parents, and a brother who was likely going to be an all-state track champion went a long way with the school board. Gilbert, with his weirdly dyed white hair and the red contacts he wore that made him look even stranger, smiled at him and whistled as he walked into the school. Alfred shook his head and followed suit, figuring that the day wasn't going to suck any less if he kept putting it off.

He made his way to the library and noticed that most everyone else had already taken a seat, each at a separate table and not looking at each other. Well, Gilbert was already carving something into his desk, so he didn't really count. Alfred set his stuff down at the same table as Elizaveta and looked at her. "Mind if I sit here, Liz?"

She shrugged and twirled her hair, staring off into space and tapping her nails against the desk. He rolled his eyes and sat down despite the lack of response; he glanced over at Kiku, who was staring at his desk and apparently happy with that. He did not look back at Gilbert and shrugged off his coat, trying not to think about how sore his ass was going to be after eight hours of sitting in the stupid library chairs. The door to the library opened again and Alfred slinked down as Mr. Germania came striding in, looking especially stern and put-out—Alfred guessed he'd be pretty pissed if he had to monitor Saturday detention too. But so was the life of a deputy headmaster.

"Well, here we are. Or, most of us at least." Alfred tilted his head to the side at Germania's comment, wondering what he meant by 'most,' but the door slammed open again and Alfred felt his heart drop into his stomach. Shit—that's what he meant then. "Ah, I see Mr. Kirkland has finally decided to grace us with his presence. Put the cigarette out, Mr. Kirkland, and take a seat."

Arthur Kirkland was something of a legend around campus, and rightfully so—he was probably second behind Kiku in grades and still managed to have one of the most decorated discipline files in the school's history. Gilbert may have had the crazy title but Arthur—well, he was rumored to be one shoplifting charge away from jail but could still recite Shakespeare in perfect rhythm and construct all twenty-one amino acids that synthesized protein from memory. Alfred slinked lower into his chair and tried to look as unnoticeable as possible, which was kind of pointless since he'd decided to sit in the front row. Hell, he'd try though; the last thing he wanted to add onto the suckitude that was today was for Arthur Kirkland to notice him and decide to make his day even worse.

Arthur's hair was a mess of natural blond, green, and black and piled on top of his head in a way a lot of people tried to imitate to get that rough-and-dirty look. Alfred knew that was just how Arthur's hair was. His ears were pierced from shell to earlobe and he had a ring in his eyebrow; he used to have one in his nose, but it wasn't in there now. His clothes were kind of neat, in a ripped-up, grungy-punk kind of way, and he had black boots on that looked like they were specifically made to kick people's asses in. He was on the thin side, and just a hair shorter than Alfred himself, but that didn't mean that he didn't intimidate the shit out of Alfred. Not that he tried to let that show because, come on, he wasn't a wuss but—Arthur Kirkland was scary when he wanted to be and being smaller than most of the guys on the football team didn't change that fact.

Arthur glanced over at the deputy headmaster as he took a long drag of his cigarette; he blew out the smoke and then raised his impressive brow (seriously, his eyebrows alone could probably beat people into submission) and stubbed the cigarette out on the librarian's front desk. He smiled and whistled as he went to take a seat, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Alfred; his smile morphed into a smirk and he brushed past to sit in the chair directly behind Alfred. Great. He could smell Arthur a little too well now that he was sitting behind him; he smelled like smoke and mint, probably from toothpaste, with a little bit of just Arthur mixed in. It smelled—Alfred really shouldn't be thinking about how Arthur smelled because it was bad enough he was practically a closeted bisexual jock (at school at least—his family was surprisingly cool with it), he really didn't need to throw into the mix that he might have been a little bit in-lust-slash-maybe love with the resident criminal.

"Golden Boy, what an unexpected surprise." It also wasn't fair that Arthur was English and this accent that just dripped sex—Alfred crossed his arms tighter across his chest and slouched low enough that he was almost laying down on his chair.

"Mr. Kirkland, I'll add destroying school property to the growing list of reasons why you'll be joining us again next Saturday." Germania looked like a vein was about to pop in his head, and Alfred didn't need to look behind him to know that Arthur was still smirking. He heard Elizaveta huff in annoyance and she shot a disgusted look back at Arthur before turning to face Germania again. "Now that we're all in attendance, let me explain how things are going to go today. You will be in detention from now until four and during that time, you will all reflect about the sort of person you would like to be, the sort of person you would like to represent from this academy. I hope, for most of you, this will be the last time you attend this detention—there will be a half hour break for lunch at noon and absolutely no talking, texting, or sleeping, or desecrating school property," he walked past Gilbert and yanked his pen out of his hand at that, "during this time. You will not move from these spots, am I clear?"

There were mumbled half-answers from everyone but Arthur, who remained silent, and Gilbert who saluted mockingly and gave an enthusiastic 'yessir!' Germania looked satisfied enough with the response and continued, handing out blank slips of notebook paper and pens to everyone as he talked. "Headmistress Athena requested that we do something a little different today—you each will hand-write an essay telling me who you think you are and why the actions you each took to land yourself here will never happen again. I expect at least a full page by the end of the day."

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Germania, but I think there's been some sort of mistake. I understand that skipping my fifth period class to go shopping was wrong, but I was shopping for the prom committee and hardly think that my punishment warrants I be stuck here with all these—" Elizaveta started before Germania froze the rest of her words up with a glare.

"This door," he pointed at the double library doors, "stays open. I'll be right across the hall, so I expect you all to stay in your seats." He glared at them all one last time before he strode away and into some office across the hall.

Alfred played with his pen and stared down at the blank piece of paper—hand writing a paper would suck. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to do that that wasn't in grade school—his hand always ended up cramping and then it was a pain in the ass come next football practice, which lucky for him, was tomorrow morning. He heard Gilbert chuckle and turned around see what he found funny; apparently Gilbert was good at origami, as long as it involved shaping the paper into naked women. Kiku was tapping his pen against the desk and staring intently at the blank paper in front of him—Arthur was smirking and staring right at him. Alfred felt his face flush and he glared before turning around.

"So, I'm curious, what exactly did Hetalia Academy's star quarterback do to get stuck here in detention with us mere peons?" Arthur drawled. Alfred scowled at his desk and struggled not to rise to the bait. "I'm surprised you're even here—must have done something particularly heinous to end up in here and not let off with a slap of the wrist."

"Would you just be quiet? Obviously, he doesn't want to talk about it." Elizaveta defending him was not really what he wanted so he scowled over at her.

"Love, don't you know it's rude to interject yourself into someone else's conversation? I expected someone of your status to at least recognize basic manners, but I suppose money really doesn't buy everything." Alfred turned and scowled at him then because, dude, rude. This right here was exactly why he didn't want to be either attracted and slash or possibly in love with Arthur Kirkland because he could be a raging douche sometimes.

Elizaveta inhaled sharply and her perfectly manicured nails tried to dig into the wood of the desk. "Well, I hardly think you of all people should be lecturing anyone on manners!"

"Tell me, Golden Boy," Arthur started. His eyes were focused and dark on Alfred, a little too mean than Alfred would have liked because it reminded him how much Arthur had changed and he hated that. "Are you going to let your bitch fight all your battles? I understand that fucking one another probably built some sort of twisted friendship between you two, but honestly? This is a bit pathetic."

"Shut up, you asshole!"

"Don't call her a bitch, you dick!" Ok, not his best comeback but Elizaveta was sort of defending him and that was nice.

"Um-excuse me?" Kiku's voice was soft and barely drew anyone's attention. "The deputy headmaster said we weren't supposed to talk so I really don't think all this fighting is—"

"Whatever, Kirkland; you're just some nobody who's one step away from prison and are taking out how pitiful your life is out on us because, unlike you, people actually can stand to be around us! So, why don't you just shut up your offensive mouth and go back to combing those deplorable excuses for eyebrows so they look somewhat normal." Elizaveta flipped her hair and smiled sweetly at Arthur. He kept on smirking, but Alfred knew his face well enough to know what she'd said had struck a nerve. Probably more so the eyebrow comment than the stuff about people liking them (which wasn't really true because people never really liked the popular kids).

"If you think people actually like you, you're more deluded than I initially thought."

"I like her." Everyone turned to stare at Gilbert, who was making his origami girl pose in sex positions. He looked up and smiled dirtily at Elizaveta. "She's got great tits."

"Shut up!"

"Don't talk about her boobs, jackass!"

"Really, everyone, we shouldn't be talking…"

"Hey!" Everyone turned around and tried to look quiet (Elizaveta looked about ten shades of purple though…so yeah, kind of fail there) as Germania stormed back in, eyes narrowed and vein popping in his forehead. "Is there a part of 'stay quiet and reflect on your actions' that you don't understand?"

"No sir."

"Of course not, Mr. Germania."

"Umm, no?"

"Well—"

"I don't want to hear anything from you, Mr. Beilschmidt. If I hear another sound, I'll make sure each of you is back here next week, is that understood?" Alfred mumbled out a 'yes sir' along with Elizaveta and Kiku; Germania glared at them one more time and then headed back towards his office. He blew out a nervous breath and turned to glare at Gilbert, pointedly not looking at Arthur and his stupid face or his stupid smirk.

"You talk about Liz like that again, or do anything to land us back in this shit next week, and I'll hit you so hard you'll be drooling on the floor, buddy." Gilbert flipped him off but didn't say anything in retaliation. Arthur chuckled and he couldn't help but get drawn back into his stare. "What?"

"Nothing…you're just very concerned about your fair lady, is all."

"She's not my lady, I'm just not a dick like you or Gil."

"Oh, is that so? So then, if you're such an upstanding gentleman, how about you share with the class exactly why you're here today?" Arthur smiled meanly at him and it made Alfred's gut twist unpleasantly as he remembered how different that smile used to be. He really didn't like thinking about that, about how different Arthur used to be, how much happier he'd been, when they were kids and before his parents died. Alfred had liked the Kirklands too—he clenched his fist and forced all the crap down because he was not going to start pitying Arthur when he was being such a tool.

"Why don't you tell us why you're here, dickweed?"

"Oh clever use of insults there."

"Please, we really shouldn't be talking." Kiku tried again. This time, he got Arthur's attention.

"I'm sorry, are you saying you'd rather actually sit here for eight hours and brood over whatever it was we all did wrong?"

Kiku, obviously not used to being under the full force of Arthur's attention, struggled to respond; luckily for him, Elizaveta never had a problem talking. "What he's saying is maybe it's time you stopped being such an insufferable prick and shut up, so some of us don't get stuck back here next week. I'm sure you'd be glad of that, wouldn't you? It'd just be you, Gilly, and your usual miscreants in here."

"Call me Gilly again, princess, and we'll see how glad we'd all be."

"You're revolting."

"Not the worst I've been called, tits."

Arthur scoffed and got up from his seat, walking over towards the library doors without a care to who could see him; everyone stared at him for a silent second before hissing at him to get back in his seat. He turned around, waved at them mockingly, and did something with the door that caused it to slam shut; Alfred watched as he slipped something that looked like a metal key into his pants and tried not to stare at the sliver of skin he showed as his shirt rose up in the motion (he did try really hard not to…). He walked back to his seat and sat down just as they all heard Germania yell and come storming back in. Arthur relaxed back against his chair while everyone else tensed up and Germania honed in on that right off the bat.

"Kirkland, what did you do to that door?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"You heard me!" The deputy headmaster was starting to get a little bit purple as he yelled at Arthur, who looked like he gave absolutely zero fucks. He probably didn't give any fucks. "What happened to this door, Kirkland?"

"Are you suggesting that I had anything to do with that? Sir, you told us not to move from our seats, I may not be the best in physics for my year, but even I know it's impossible to disable a door that is pressure weighted and easily three hundred pounds qithout some sort of tool." Alfred tried hard not to laugh, but it was funny so he did. Arthur caught his eye, a less confrontational look on his face that made Alfred feel stupidly warm, but then Germania was glaring at him too and that sucked.

"You find this funny, Jones?"

"Well, he is a little guy, sir. And we've just been sitting here—I don't know, the door just sort of shut." Elizaveta's eyes widened and she chimed in because, honestly, if they were stuck here all day, it would be a lot better if they could move around without the deputy headmaster being able to watch them.

"Uh, yeah! It just slammed shut, Mr. Germania." Gilbert and Kiku agreed (although Kiku looked like he was doing so against his conscious) with them and Germania started to look purpler. He stomped over to the door and tried to get it to stay open again, but whatever Arthur had taken out when he screwed with the door, was obviously needed to keep it open. He grabbed a chair and tried propping it open, but the door was too heavy and it slammed shut again; he tried that same idea with two, then three chairs, and the door slammed shut every time. He heard Germania curse and he had to stifle his giggles behind his hand because seriously? A teacher swearing was the funniest shit ever.

Eventually, Germania came back in and frowned at all of them, but at Arthur most. "You think you're clever, don't you Kirkland?"

"Yes, but please don't feel like you must compare yourself to me; I'd imagine it would get rather depressing if you had to line us up side-by-side." Arthur's tone was as mild as his face, but his eyes—they were angry and staring up at Germania like he was the scum on his shoe.

"Oh yes, depressing is a fitting word—I can't imagine how being compared to a useless waste of a student who's never going to be anything beyond these walls would be upsetting for me." Wow—well that was, pretty damn harsh. Alfred was actually pretty sure teachers couldn't talk to student that way, even if they'd been insulted first. Everyone stared at the pair of them, and if possible, Arthur's eyes burned a little bit brighter with hatred for Germania. "I look forward to seeing you in these detentions for the next month, Mr. Kirkland. And as for the rest of you, the door may be shut, but that doesn't mean that if I find any of you out of your seat when I check in, you'll be looking at a space alongside Mr. Kirkland in detention next week."

And, with that, he left, the library door slamming shut behind him, leaving the five of them alone and essentially unsupervised. Alfred looked over at Arthur, at how tense his arms were and how stiff his neck was—a part of him wanted to reach out and try to say something, but he knew anything he said would get thrown back in his face. Elizaveta was quiet and staring at Arthur along with Kiku, while Gilbert had leaned back and kicked his feet up on the table with glee.

Arthur stared at the closed door for a minute longer and then he smiled and cocked his brow at the rest of them. "Well, I guess the real fun can start now, can't it?"

End Scene

A Hetalia/Breakfast Club fusion I have been writing furiously for the past two weeks. Probably one of the more honest and slightly-darker things I've written, but I really like the tone of this. Will be updated once-twice a week. Enjoy, and drop a review if you care to let me know what you thought.