A/N: There are very few TF2 high school AUs. So I'm making one. Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think.

Also there may or may not be ships. It depends on what you guys want. So let me know what you so desire.

That is all.

Laurence didn't want to go to school. It was rare that any teenager would actually desire to attend school, but he was more against the idea than normal.

"I don't see why I have to go here," Laurence grumbled under his breath.

"It's not a bad school," his father said, checking his mirrors before turning the steering wheel of the car.

"Me old one wasn't bad either," Laurence pointed out. "And this one is farther away. I ain't even zoned for this school and now you have to drive me there."

His father sighed. "Laurence, we've been over this. I know that you don't want to transfer schools, but this is for the best. Teufort has better academic programs than Battlefield did, it's in a nicer area, there are less students—"

"I don't care about that, da," Laurence cut him off. "I don't get why I have to transfer in the middle of the bloody school year—"

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man," his father scowled but kept his gaze fixed on the road. "This will be better for you in the long run."

"This is all just 'cause I got in a fight with that one bloke, isn't it?" It was more of an accusation than anything else.

"Laurence you broke his nose and almost took his eye out," his father sounded exasperated now. Great. "You're lucky that you weren't expelled."

"I keep telling you," Laurence wasn't whining. He was too mature to whine. "The bastard tried to take my head off. I had to defend myself."

"You came out unscathed and he denies ever going near you."

"He's lying."

"Be that as it may," his father continued, "the best thing to do is to get away from the situation. Besides, your mother and I were already considering having you transfer over to Teufort. It just happened sooner rather than later."

"But this ain't fair," Laurence protested.

"Life isn't fair either," his father stopped the car. "We're here."

"I know," Laurence had to stop himself from growling as he grabbed his bag and stormed out of the car.

"Have a good day at school!"

Like hell I will, Laurence thought.

Mike and Misha were at it again.

Dell watched as the large Russian and the slender Bostonian all but spat in each other's face, hurling insults faster than Dell could even keep track of. But boy were those two angry.

"Wonder what set 'em off this time," Dell mused.

"Probably something stupid," Tavish remarked.

"Oh, that's without a doubt," Dell agreed. "I'm just curiouswhat stupid little thing got 'em started now."

Tavish shrugged. "Don't really matter anyways. They'll be palling around before the day ends."

Dell chuckled. "Yeah, they will. They sure are odd, ain't they?"

Tavish nodded. "I don't think that I could function like that with someone. Being angry or being friends. No in between."

"I'm pretty sure the two of 'em like arguing," Dell looked back at the two, their faces red and contorted. "I can't see any other reason they would do it so dang much otherwise."

"I suppose."

"Hello, gentlemen."

Dell startled. "Dangnabit, René. Someone is gonna bash your face in if you keep sneaking up on people."

The little vermin had the nerve to smile at him.

"Ay, Frenchie," Tavish greeted lazily. "What have you been up to?"

"Not too much," René said. "I am simply waiting at the moment and decided that some company would be appreciated."

"What are you waiting for?" Dell asked. He may not like René all too much, but he wasn't a bad guy and Dell could at least be civil.

"An acquaintance," he answered vaguely.

"You gotta do better than that," Tavish declared. "Be a wee bit more specific for once."

"He's an acquaintance of mine," René repeated.

"Yeah, we got that."

"He's transferring to our school," René continued. "I thought that I would greet him."

"Where's he transferring from?" Dell asked.

"Battlefield High School, I believe."

"That ain't exciting," Tavish complained. "Woulda been interesting if he were from somewhere exotic."

"He's Australian," René supplied.

"Whatever," the Scotsman said. He stood up. "I'm gonna go to homeroom. See you around."

Dell waved goodbye. He turned to René again but he was already gone.

How did he even do that?

Laurence didn't like people as a general rule of thumb. They were loud and rude and stupid. And this school was full of them.

Less students my ass, Laurence thought, glaring at anyone who dared to make eye contact with him in the crowded halls. There were far too many other people here.

Once the crowd thinned out, Laurence was able to look over the schedule that he had printed off. He somehow had to find his homeroom in a school that he was completely unfamiliar with before the bell rang. Fantastic.

"Well if it isn't the—"

Laurence whipped his arm out, elbowing René in the chest. René promptly doubled over and clutched at his abdomen.

"You complete and utter barbarian," he hissed out.

"Don't think that I can't recognize your voice, you bloody frog," Laurence retorted. "That's what you get for sneaking up on me."

"So cruel," René said, dramatic effect lost when he straightened out and rolled his eyes. "And here I was going to offer you a hand in guiding you around the school."

"Like hell you were."

"Well you will simply never know," René sniffed. "Good luck stumbling through the halls." He spun on his heel and stalked off.

"I don't need luck," Laurence snapped. René was such a stuck up bastard sometimes.

Laurence looked back down at his schedule. Okay, so maybe if he—

"Howdy."

Oh great, a person.

Laurence looked up.

"The name's Dell," the person in front of him said. "I take it that you're René's acquaintance?"

"Something like that," Laurence drawled.

The guy—Laurence had already forgotten the guy's name but names were stupid anyway—offered him a smile. "Do you think that you could use some help finding your way 'round?"

Huh. Laurence decided that he liked this guy more than the average person he encountered. "That'd be great, actually." He handed over his schedule.

"Hm," the guy read it over. "Your homeroom is actually pretty close. On the opposite end of the school as your first block though. Rotten luck."

"I guess." Laurence didn't particularly care.

"Anywho," he continued, "it shouldn't be too hard to find your way around. Order of the classroom numbers actually make sense here. It might be a bit tricky, but you should be fine. Just remember that room that are in the two hundreds are on the second floor."

Laurence nodded. "Thanks, mate."

"Any time," he smiled again. "Now go on, get."

Laurence was done. Just… done with everything.

Homeroom hadn't been terrible and he had just barely made it there on time. Just a few loud pricks, but nothing that he wasn't used to being annoyed with. Hell, even his first two classes didn't seem to be terrible and the teachers seemed alright.

The only thing that he truly had a problem with were the hallways. Jesus fuck, they were crowded. Laurence felt ridiculously claustrophobic, strangers jostling into him and pressing against him and it was loud and too fast and just too much.

And now that lunch was going on it was even worse.

For whatever reason, the school didn't seem to have a cafeteria area and everyone ate at the same time. That meant the hallways were littered with people that were talking at obnoxious levels of noise. Laurence could hardly walk through.

He had to find somewhere that was quiet.

Laurence navigated himself around people sitting on the floor, scanning for any place that could offer some semblance of shelter. Most of the doors leading into classrooms were closed, and those that were open had too many students in them to be desirable.

It was only when Laurence turned into one of the back hallways (that still was polluted with way too many people, where did they all come from?) that he saw a door that was slightly ajar. Despite telling himself not to, Laurence felt some aspect of hope rise in his chest. He opened the door wider. He couldn't hear anything from the inside.

Oh thank all that was holy and good in the world.

Laurence swung the door far enough to step in before quickly stepping in and closing it behind him. He turned around.

Oh shit.

There was someone else in the room. He was standing over a counter table thing with various beakers and flasks and other extremely science looking stuff that Laurence couldn't really identify. The space that wasn't occupied with those materials was completely covered in what looked like handwritten sheets of paper.

Everything would have been fine but there was another person.

Fuck it all.

"What are you doing here?" The guy asked, pushing up his round glasses up to rest higher on his nose. He had an accent that Laurence couldn't quite identify off the top of his head.

"I…" Laurence wasn't quite sure how to respond. This guy was… kind of intimidating, actually. Maybe it was his eyes or his posture or his aura but something about him radiated hostility. "Not even gonna ask who I am?"

That wasn't what he meant to say.

The bloke just stared at him. "I don't particularly care. I'll ask again, what are you doing here?"

"I'm just," Laurence wasn't stammering. He was mature, dammit. He had standards. "I'm trying to find a quiet place to eat lunch, alright? This place didn't seem to be painfully loud so I came in."

Laurence could practically feel the other's eyes boring into him. They simply stared at each other for a few moments.

"Fine."

"What?" Laurence felt his eyebrows rise.

"You can stay here," he said. "I don't particularly mind if you stay here. So long as you're quiet, but we seem to have that interest in common."

"Oh."

The student gestured towards a wooden table that was nestled in the corner of the room that was nearest to him. "Feel free to sit down and do what you will. I only ask that you don't disturb me."

"Thanks," Laurence dipped his head and made his way over to sit down in the chair.

The other guy went back to doing… whatever it was that he was doing. Laurence couldn't say for sure, but he could tell that the guy sure knew what he was doing. His movements were fluid and precise, eyes not leaving the task that he was focused on and hands steady. Laurence almost felt himself become the tiniest bit impressed.

Laurence leaned back in the plastic chair as best he could and closed his eyes. It wasn't silent. No, he could hear the faint clink of glass or the scratching of pencil on paper or the shifts of movement that the guy was making. It wasn't silent, but it was quiet.

Laurence found himself rather liking the little nook he had discovered.

"Wake up."

Laurence felt his body jostled slightly as his eyes blinked open. "Wha—?"

"You fell asleep," the bloke removed his hand from Laurence's shoulder and took a step back. "Class is going to start in five minutes. I saw it fit to wake you up."

Laurence just stared at the guy.

"What?"

"Nothing," Laurence shook his head, "just kinda nice of you."

He rolled his eyes. "I may not be the best of people but I am not cruel."

"Just, you know, thank you," Laurence said.

"You're welcome."

"I can come here tomorrow, right?" Laurence asked before he could think it through.

"I don't see why not if you continue to not be an annoyance."

"Alright," Laurence stood up and stretched his arms over his head. "Thanks again."

The guy was already back at his equipment and waved a hand dismissively, not even looking up.

Laurence left the room in a better mood than he had entered it in.

"Oh bloody fuck," Laurence muttered.

René grinned smugly at him. "It seems that we have this class together, bushman."

"Unfortunately," Laurence rolled his eyes, sitting next to René.

"Have you managed to find your classes?" René asked.

"Of course I did," Laurence scoffed. "What kinda tracker do you take me for?"

René smirked. "Not a good one, honestly."

"Why you—"

"Now, now," René held up his hands in a placating gesture, "you wouldn't want to start another fight, would you?"

Laurence's expression was completely deadpan. "I ain't even surprised that you know about that."

"Pity," René said idly. "It's always hilarious to see you gape like a fish."

Laurence just glared.

René opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the bell. The teacher called for the class's attention and just like that their conversation was ended.

Laurence walked out of the school, fighting his way through more people, way too many people. He somehow managed to get away from the seemingly never-ending stream of students that flowed from the building. A car honk caught his attention and he turned to see the source of the noise. It was his father.

Laurence walked over and pulled the door open, all but flopping into the seat.

"So," his father asked, "how was school."

Laurence met his eyes. "Not terrible."

And he knew that was the truth.