Merry Christmas y'all! This is a RusAme high school AU.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
Warnings: Swearing, implied sexual situations, violence
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Nervous students parted around Ivan like stream water around a rock, giving him odd glances. Ivan, however, simply ignored all of them for he was used to it. Even when a few girls that were caked in a thick layer of makeup like onnagata began to whisper furiously when he walked past, Ivan continued on pretending they didn't exist. He found that this was the best way to go through school.
Checking the scrap of paper that was in his hand, Ivan walked over to what he supposed was his new locker, though the metal cuboid was anything but. Large fingers clumsily entered the code, and the locker popped open with a creak. Inside, graffiti was etched into the dull navy paint that matched the school uniform for sophomores. There were initials and hearts, curse words and insults, jokes and shaky pictures. Ivan ignored them all, shouldering his backpack into the small space.
"He looks like some kind of freaky yeti," Ivan heard whispered behind him. He swiveled around, a creepy smile spreading across his face. The poor girl trembled, and began to backpedal until running into a short senior (recognizable by the black vest)*, who looked downright murderous. Ivan realized that this was not his problem and instead concentrated on getting his new (again, relatively speaking) science textbook out of his bag.
"Hey, I heard you're new here," said a cheerful voice from behind Ivan. He fully expected it to be some stupid bully who didn't know who they were dealing with, but he was surprised to see a handsome young boy standing behind him. His blue vest matched Ivan's own, yet it seemed unkempt and even had a ketchup stain on one of the sleeves. The boy's dirty blonde hair was just as messy, yet only served to make him more endearing than look like a slob. His blue eyes were bright with joy, but as Ivan looked closer, he realized that the boy had seen some tough times.
"Да, I am," Ivan said slowly, not sure where this conversation was going. The boy had no such doubts.
"My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I'm the awesome sophomore hero! I'm the coolest person here, so you should totally be friends with me! I'll show you around an' everything, 'cause there's a bunch of buttheads 'round here, so the hero can't have the new kid getting bullied!"
Ivan's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he picked up Alfred by his collar and slammed him against the wall. Alfred's eyes widened in horror, and his wire-rimmed glasses almost slipped off his nose. "Listen," Ivan hissed, "I don't know who you're trying to fool, but I am not that stupid. It would be best for your health if you did not fuck with me, дa? You'll live longer." Ivan had moved from Russia two years ago. In that short amount of time, he had learned to not trust anyone at school. His English gutter vocabulary had also expanded quite a bit.
"D-dude!" Alfred wheezed out, his eyes big as saucer plates, "What are you doing? I was just trying to help!" They were attracting a lot of stares now, and Ivan knew that if he didn't drop Alfred soon, someone would run to a teacher. Ivan did so, unceremoniously dumping Alfred down. The poor boy lay panting on the floor.
"Like I said, do not fuck with me." With that, Ivan turned on his heel and left the stunned American behind. That little show, he reasoned, would keep everyone off his heels for a while. They'd know Ivan Braginski was not one to be trifled with.
There were hurried footsteps behind him, and soon Ivan found Alfred at his heels, still breathing heavily from almost being strangled. "Dude," he said, "not cool. If I wasn't the awesome hero I am, I would've totally dumped your sorry ass. You gotta be careful 'round here, y'know? Don't wanna go picking a fight with the wrong person and end up with your head submerged in dirty toilet water." Alfred shook his head, like he had experienced this before. Considering he went to an American high school, he probably had.
"I don't need your help," Ivan said in a sickly sweet voice, a smile spreading across his face, "I can handle myself, глупый. Why don't you just run off to whatever stupid little friends you have and leave me alone?"
Alfred didn't seem to realize that Ivan had not given him a choice. "No way man, you're stuck with me. And don't call me gloopy." Ivan massaged the bridge of his big nose. This was going to be a long day.
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Ivan could not tear his eyes away from Alfred's mouth as the American shoveled down burger after burger. It should be humanly impossible for such a thing, and yet somehow it wasn't. The sight was both fascinating and disgusting. Ivan wasn't sure whether to applaud, slap Alfred on the back, or throw up.
After finishing his last burger, Alfred belched and began sipping soda through a straw. Looking around, the American leaned in and whispered "Diet. Trying to watch my weight, y'know?" Ivan nodded, still not ready to speak after what he had just witnessed. "So dude. Where are you from? You have that funny accent. Can't be American."
Ivan smiled. The accent had been one of the main reasons he was so unpopular in his last two schools. No one wanted to be friends with a commie. "I am from Los Angeles, дa? Though before, I lived in Houston." Ivan had particularly hated it there. The kids at school had been particularly vicious with their threats, and Ivan had been forced to hurt a few. More than a few, actually.
Alfred frowned softly, looking as puzzled as one could while munching on several French fries at once. "Really? You were born in Houston? You don't look like a Texan to me."
"I never said I was born there. I was born in Moscow."
"Ha! I knew it!" Alfred looked triumphant. Ivan almost wanted to hit him with the water pipe that he had pulled out of the ground when a particularly nasty Texan had decided that he and Ivan should go toe-to-toe, but he decided against it. It wasn't every day that someone had opened up to the large Russian.
"Knew what, Alfred?" Both people at the table looked up, and Ivan almost gave a start. Two people were standing by the table, both tiny enough that they looked like they could be blown over by a breath of wind. One of them looked strangely like Alfred, but with eyes closer to Ivan's own purple, and paler hair that was slightly wavy. He had a stuffed polar bear on a hip sling, and Ivan thought he must be rather brave, if not stupid, to bring it to school. The other boy was even tinier with straight black hair and dark brown eyes that looked like they belonged on someone much older.
"Mattie! Kiku!" Alfred turned to Ivan, smiling widely. "Ivan, these are my buddies. Matthew and Kiku, Ivan. Ivan, Matthew and Kiku." The Japanese boy, presumably Kiku, dipped his head slightly. Matthew gave the Russian a slightly nervous smile. "Ivan is my super badass Russian sidekick friend!" Alfred exclaimed. Ivan was taken aback. Since when was Ivan Alfred's friend? The friendliest thing Ivan had done for Alfred all day was give someone his death smile when they attempted to knock Alfred's books out of his hands. He shot a glance at Matthew, who simply shrugged and sat across from them. Apparently this was normal.
Kiku quickly followed Matthew's lead, edging slightly away from the Russian. Ivan wasn't terribly offended – this kind of thing happened all of the time. Nevertheless, he smiled at Kiku, which sent the poor boy into shivers.
"D-did you move from Russia?" Matthew asked, his voice trembling slightly. He wanted to lighten the mood, but…
"Нет, not really. I moved from Russia two years ago, to Houston, then to Los Angeles, and then here. My mother has never really been satisfied with her job, but I think she likes it here. Hopefully she will stay this time." There was a trace of wistfulness in Ivan's voice, and it made Alfred tear up.
"Oh you poor baby!" He cried, hugging Ivan and causing a grunt of surprise from the Russian, "Don't leave here, okay? I know Brassfield isn't terribly impressive, but it's nice and I'm sure your mom won't get fired or anything, so please please please don't go!"
Ivan rolled his eyes. "I can promise no such thing, but if my mama wants to leave, I can try to convince her otherwise." Why was he even saying this? He had barely known the boy for three hours, and they were already bonding. Perhaps Los Angeles had weakened him.
From across the cafeteria, a few sets of eyes drilled holes into the back of Alfred's skull.
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"Are you sure about this, Alfred?"
The American was gazing at Ivan, who had his back turned to the twins standing near the bus stop. Ivan was walking home, and did not feel Alfred's stare.
"Of course I'm sure, Mattie. The hero has to be brave, even if the odds are against him." Even as he said it, Alfred could not keep all of the worry out of his voice. Even for a hero, it was scary.
Matthew bit his lip. Today was a Thursday, and Matthew had hockey practice. Usually, Kiku would walk Alfred home, but Kiku's older brother Yao had insisted that they go to one of the town's few novelty stores to look at Hello Kitty merchandise. Alfred was alone. Matthew was nearly scared enough to skip practice (which was completely forbidden by the coach), but he knew Alfred would throw a hissy fit. Plus, Alfred was a big boy, and he had gotten a lot better over the summer.
"Well… Okay. But be really careful, and don't go wandering down any back alleys! I don't want you to get hurt again."
Alfred huffed. He wasn't that stupid. "Yeah, yeah. Jeez, Mattie, you worry way too much." Without another word, Alfred started down the street, ignoring the calls from his brother. Raising his head to the breeze, Alfred inhaled the Vermont August air. The leaves on the maple trees had just started to turn red – nothing near the splendor they would get to later. Mattie hated Vermont – he was convinced it was a cheap rip-off of his birthplace, Canada, and maybe that was true, but Alfred honestly thought it was great.
Laughter bubbled up in Alfred's throat, and forgetting that he was supposed to keep to the roads, he ran off into the maple woods, spinning underneath the trees. At times like these, it felt so wonderful just to be alive. All the responsibilities of being the hero were lifted off his shoulders, and Alfred felt like he could fly.
Breathing hard, face flushed, Alfred stopped his spinning, still smiling. That was, until he saw the figures standing among the trees. Alfred straightened, all traces of levity gone.
"Aw, looks like we interrupted the fag's fun," one of the boys sneered. Alfred shot him an evil glare.
"What it looks like to me is that someone is craving attention, Mark. You go after me so much; sometimes I think you have a crush on me. You're just a gay lovesick puppy, aren't you?" Some of the boys "oohed", but most of them just started laughing along with Mark.
"At least I wasn't hanging off the Russki. You were begging so hard to suck his cock, weren't you? You man whore."
Alfred flushed angrily, flying at Mark, knocking the boy over. Several of the boy's goons pulled Alfred off and threw him to the ground. Mark stood shakily, wiping blood from his split lip. "Getting' frisky, aren't you? Sorry, but I don't swing that way, fag." Mark's foot connected with Alfred's stomach, making all the air in the American's lungs blow out. Alfred saw stars dancing at the edge of his vision, and he doubled up in pain.
"Aw, look at the poor little bitch," Mark sneered, kicking Alfred again, "I feel so bad that I think we should give him a treat. Be my guest, boys."
It wasn't long until the leaves that had fallen were coated in Alfred's blood.
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I am on a roll today! Updating two fanfictions and posting a new one! *does happy dance*
*In this school, the different grades are required to wear different colors of vests. Freshman is olive green, sophomore is navy blue, junior is maroon and senior is black. Under the vests, the students wear white collared shirts. When it's hot (as it is now), they can wear short sleeves, but otherwise they must wear long sleeves. All students wear dress pants (sorry, no sexy schoolgirl miniskirts).
Brassfield is not a real town. I almost placed the story on South Hero Island (it's a real place), but I decided against it, because it'd be easier just to make up a town then try to research one (I'm so lazy). In Brassfield, the main source of income is maple syrup cultivation. Yeah.
