A/N: This is crack. Or as close to crack as I can get. Be warned.

The Hetalia Gakuen Universe is something I've been wanting to write about for a while, ever since graduating high school. Do you know that feeling? Of leaving something behind that felt like the young wild days, and beautifying it in your mind, even though rationally you know that it wasn't as exciting as you think it was? Sparkly school life manga and shows have got it all wrong, people, and this fic isn't any better.

Multiple pairings will be hinted at, made, explicitly pointed to and then broken apart, that sort of thing. Den/Nor isn't even my main ship, but I find it cute nonetheless, and it's basically what sparked this idea in my mind. So we'll start off with that!

See notes at the end of chapter for more details.

"NOOORWAAA–"

The cry pierced through the cool, peaceful air, cutting off the morning birdsongs and making heads turn on the street. Students wearing the Gakuen uniform looked around in a moment of blind panic, before catching sight of the billowing dust crowd advancing towards them and throwing themselves out of the way, just in time. Iceland sighed, stepping away from his brother, trusting him to deal with it.

Norway raised an eyebrow at him. "Ice..."

He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll just leave you to it."

Norway, like a certain Swedish neighbour of theirs, was a mostly expressionless boy. But even the random passer-by could tell his irritation from the twitching left eye and the curling of his fingers, a fistling of a ball. But whatever he was about to say to his baby brother was lost in the air, when something big and spiky and loud came hurtling towards him.

"–AAAYYEEAARRGH!"

He neatly sidestepped the human-shaped missile, letting it crash harmlessly into the brick wall of the school gates. The Italian brothers passing through screamed and grasped each other close. Iceland rolled his eyes and, shifting Mr Puffin to sit more comfortably on his shoulder, strolled on to school, ignoring the newly opened hole in the wall and the wibbling Italians.

Norway stayed, eyeing the hole apprehensively.

Sure enough, a bruised, grinning face soon emerged from the hole after a few moments. "Norge! Good morning!"

Norway sighed as he watched the Dane brush himself off and step out of the rubble, none the worse for wear. The beaming smile plastered on the other boy's face served only to irritate him more. "Anko, uzai."

Denmark's face lit up like a light bulb, before he lunged at Norway with arms wide open.

"I've missed you tooo!"

With another sigh, Norway ducked under the flailing arms effortlessly and started walking again at his usual, unhurried pace through the gates. Denmark twisted on his heels and trotted, undeterred, after his best friend.

"You wouldn't let me see you at all" – Norway leant slightly to the side, and the tips of Denmark's outstretched fingers brushed his ear – "over the weekend" – a small skip to the left; Denmark caught only air in his grasp as he stumbled to a stop before him – "and I need to recharge on you!"

The Norwegian bent almost double backwards as the edge of Den's sleeve whispered over his nose. Without even batting an eyelash, he straightened, and kept walking towards the school building. Denmark ignored the looks they were getting from the other students – though most, already used to this morning routine, looked on with mild amusement – and eagerly followed him with a bounce to his step.

"Noooorge – "

"Anko," Norway said abruptly, stopping and looking up at him, "Uzai."

Denmark blinked, seemingly stunned by the intensity of Nor's unwavering gaze. Yet in a blink of an eye his face split into the familiar wide grin, and he threw his arm over Norway's thinner shoulders.

"Gotcha!" he crowed, hugging Norway close. "I knew you couldn't escape me!"

The twitching in Norway's eye grew worse.

"Now you have to come with me to the classroom," Den said excitedly, wheeling the other boy around, and began frog-marching him to the entrance. "And we'll sit together, and then you can show me your notes – your handwriting is so easy to read, you know that Nor? It's so neat and pretty, kinda like a girl's–"

A crackling sound cut him off, and Den looked down mid-speech to see lightning surrounding Norway's balled up fist, coming to meet his chin. A thunderclap resonated through the school grounds, whipping up dust and fallen leaves. Girls screamed and held onto their skirts; boys scrambled to either get away or get a better view. The echoes of the explosion gradually faded away as did the light, leaving a small crater with a befuddled, slightly sizzling Dane sitting in the middle of it.

Norway dusted his hands off and picked up his school bag, before advancing on the other boy. Not a muscle in his face moved, but if one squinted a lot, they might have imagined something moving in the morning light behind his small frame. Something big, and fanged, and green.

Denmark seemed to have finally caught on as well. He gave a nervous laugh, and a half-hearted effort to edge back. "N-Nor..."

"Anko," Norway's voice was as cold as his winter, "Uzai."

The big, fanged, green thing shifted in the air, and towered over the Dane.

"N...NOOOORR!"

Resting his chin on his hand, Iceland listened to the shrieks from his classroom window. It was a much better melody to his ears, compared to Hong Kong's snores coming from the desk in front of him.

Some hours later that day, after school, Denmark sat backwards on his chair with his arms wrapped around the intricately carved backrest, cheeks puffed and sulking.

Finland watched him with an anxious smile on his lips, and as the last ringing of the bell signalling the end of classes fell away, spoke up. "I take it that Nor and Ice aren't coming to club today?"

"But whyyy," Denmark whined from his place on the chair. "Today's an important meeting for the Nordic Club! They can't just skive!"

Finland sighed; there was no getting Den out of these moods when there was no Norway handy to shove the responsibilities off onto. He seated himself – properly – on the seat opposite to the self-appointed club president, sandwiching a table they had made themselves out of an old door back in the spring.

"If you want to talk about it, I c–"

"Yes!" Denmark leapt around in his own chair, before quickly forging his face back into that of a dejected puppy. "I mean, really? You would? Great! Okay, see, Nor's always being all tsun-tsun with me, right?"

"I wouldn't say tsun-tsun, more like outright–"

"Yeah! He's always avoiding me and calling me 'uzai' and hitting me with Thor's thunderbolts and using me as a chew-toy for the trolls and stuff! Hey, he needs to let some air out, I get it. But we're best buds, and best buds need to – to –" he flailed his arms around wildly, "converse our manly friendships with our bodies!"

I believe that may be your problem, Finland thought, biting his lip. Aloud he said, "Ah, well..."

"He's too cold lately! It's almost like he doesn't want me around! Almost, because I know deep, deep, deeeeep down –"

"Maybe you could –" Finland started helplessly.

"It's Ice. I bet it's Ice; ever since the whole DNA testing thing came out, Nor's been insisting on spending 'quality time' with that little turd. He wasn't like this before –"

"Um..."

A shadow loomed over the both of them, and Finland jumped a little at the sudden warmth at his back. "D'n. Stop int'rruptin' Fin 'nd sh't up."

The look in Denmark's eyes grew hard. "Sve..."

"Su-san!" Finland tugged at the taller boy anxiously. "Don't start that again..."

"You d'n't change at all," rumbled Sweden, petting Fin's hair – "Eep!" – before turning his full attention back to the Dane. "No m'tter wh't. Y'r so h't-head'd 'nd loud, 't's no wonder Nor doesn't w'nt to sp'nd time with you 'nymore."

Den's face flushed red, and he sprang up from his perch on the chair. "Just say that again, and I'll tell you what I think – with my fists –"

A loud bang broke the two apart, and they turned to find one of Fin's hands more or less embedded into the wooden table between them. He slowly raised his head, a pleasant smile etched under not-so-pleasant eyes.

"I would really," he said cheerfully, "like you both to sit quietly, and listen to me."

They both nodded vigorously, and took their seats swiftly. Finland smiled, softer now, at Sweden in appreciation, before addressing a much more obedient Denmark.

"Tanska, I think you do need a little change in your habits. Su-san is right about one thing; watching you and Nor interact makes me feel like you need to give him some space. Have you ever considered just...well, greeting him normally, for starters?"

"What!?" Denmark's head shot up. "I can't do that! Tackling Norway is pretty much the hugest thing I look forward to when I get up in the morning!"

"Glomping. You're glomping Nor," Finland corrected him. "I'm not saying you should be less enthusiastic about ... that, but you two've been together for as long as I can remember. Maybe he just needs some air. After all, one reason he overreacts to you most of the time is because you stick with him so much, isn't it?"

Denmark chewed the inside of his cheeks. "I...suppose..."

"'nd you should st'p attacking people, full stop," Sweden said from the side. "N't everyb'dy's as tr'gger h'ppy as you."

Denmark glared at him, but didn't dare move from his spot. Finland waved a dismissive hand in the air.

"Anyway, just take this piece of advice. Give him space. I'm sure he'll come around."

The next morning found Denmark almost breaking the homeroom class door in an effort to stop jumping on his target.

Germany gave him a stern look as he passed by, which Denmark ignored. He couldn't, however, ignore the way the younger Italian brother ran at him the second he entered the classroom, leapt into the muscular blonde's arms and snuggled in there.

"I can't believe they're not married yet," drawled France from his desk.

"Idiot, don't say that," muttered Prussia. "They're apparently not even together together, and I really don't want to imagine what Lud'll be like when that happens." He threw a crumpled ball of paper across the classroom, only for it to hit the rim of the rubbish bin, and fortunately, barely miss the back of Russia's head. Prussia turned a shade paler than usual at his close call.

Denmark took a deep breath. Space. Give him space, he chanted to himself mentally, as he unlatched himself from the door, made his way through the threshold and slowly towards Nor, reading quietly at the back. Respect his personal boundaries or whatever.

Once he was within an arm's length of the other boy's desk, he stopped and cleared his throat. "Norway."

Norway blinked, and raised his eyes from the book. His gaze flitted from Denmark's shaking hands fisting the cloth of his uniform, before meeting his own. "Anko," he said flatly.

Deep breath, take it slow, he chanted to himself. "D-d-do you mind if I sit here?"

An elegantly raised brow. "...No."

Denmark perked up, but he struggled to keep his hands by his side. "Really? O-ok-kay!"

He slipped into the seat next to Norway, who had returned to his book. This was the longest he had ever gone without being physically attacked or snubbed in some way, and he was really rather proud of himself. He hadn't even touched Nor, although his hands were now digging their fingernails into the polished surface of the desk. Silence reigned over the two, Norway reading, and Denmark sitting at his desk as rigid as a block of wood.

After close to a minute, it was getting rather unbearable for him. He hadn't been this close to Nor without talking to him or touching him in a long time; during class was alright because one or the other of them would be asleep most of the time, but now there was nobody else he could distract himself with. He scanned the classroom for something of interest; Spain sat by the windowsill chatting to his boyfriend, the grumpy older Italian brother; Japan and England sat together, poring over a notebook he suspected was homework he hadn't done; Italy was telling a patient Germany about a dream he had had with wild, wide gestures as France and Prussia watched, smirking like dirty old women. The other Nordics, Iceland excluded for being a grade lower, was nowhere in sight. Denmark groaned inwardly, hearing the stoppers in his mind creak with him.

"Anko?"

Norway's voice by his ear made him spin around, startled. The nation's usually half-mast eyes grew wide in surprise, before he pulled away. "...You feeling ok?"

Inside, Denmark was screaming. He noticed! He noticed and he's worried about his big brother!

Out loud, he said, "I...bathroom."

He bolted, but steadied himself enough to quick strides rather than full out running at the last second. Pushing past Hungary and Austria, he hurried out of the classroom, adjusting his tie –

–only to walk straight into Finland and Sweden, waiting expectantly outside the door.

"What are you guys –" Denmark started, before being grabbed by both shoulders and turned bodily around.

"What are you doing!?" hissed Finland as Sweden nodded behind him. "You can't just run away, Ta-san!"

"I can't stand it!" yelped Denmark, muscles straining as he grabbed the nearest wall and clung on. "I need to get away! Fin, you don't understand, I'll blow if this continues!"

"Don't be an idiot," Finland growled. "You'll never get close enough to win his heart at this rate..."

"I don't want to –" started Denmark irritably, before stopping. "Wait, what did you mean by that?"

Fin and Sweden exchanged glances. "Um..."

A golden blur flew past them and into the classroom before Denmark could press on. "Dudes! Listen up! The US of A just had a brilliant idea!"

Denmark glared at the other two suspiciously, but they had piled in through the door before he had the chance to question them. He was momentarily distracted by what seemed to be a floating polar bear murmuring "Oh dear..." drifting into the room, before following it in curiously.

America, vibrant and loud as always, was speaking to the class. "Right, right, so remember last Friday, we had to decide what to do for the School Festival, right? And we, like, totally took votes on it, right? Which was a totally awesomely democratic thing to do, and I thought it was the perfect idea, but then – and this is the downside of voting with an equal number, I guess – we couldn't decide on the final two! No matter how many times we re-did the vote, it wouldn't change! So we put it off until we could find a better way to decide, remember?"

"Only because you wouldn't agree to the rock-scissors-paper or the coin flipping or the alcohol-holding game, Amérique," France interrupted.

"Only because you wouldn't let me do the arm-wrestling or the football kicking or the hamburger scoffing," America shot back.

A tiny voice sounded from the edges of the circle of students that had formed. "Well, actually, I'd voted for the cafe, but my vote hadn't been counted for some reason..."

"Anyway!" America said loudly (the quiet voice was drowned out by him, but nobody came to its rescue, so it went unheard), "I, the class hero, have thought up the ultimate tie-breaker! Ladies and gentlemen and France, I present to you, the greatest, most awesomest event ever to be held, in the history of Hetalia Gakuen..." He paused dramatically. "The Gun Fight Survival Game To Decide the Event for the School Festival!"

Silence reigned.

"Woo! Awesome!" Prussia cried from the back.

"Abso-bloody-lutely not!" exclaimed England, getting up from his seat to make his way to the front. He'd been eyeing the boy up in the front suspiciously for some time now. Japan hurriedly folded his notebook and trailed after him. "This is by far the stupidest thing you could think of, America! Honestly, does your mind ever consider the consequences? What happens afterwards? What about damages to school property?" – because, although they were currently students studiously studying at school, they were still immortal nations, and nobody was really that concerned about any negligible personal harm to their flesh bodies – "As president of the school council, I will not tolerate this."

America pouted. "Aw, come on, Iggy..."

"No."

"England-san," Japan spoke softly. "Perhaps that is a bit too harsh. If we chose a better location for this activity –"

"It has to be at school!" America cried. "It'll spoil the whole atmosphere!"

"Don't be such a twit," the bushy-browed boy snapped at a pouting America. "That is out of the question! Besides, Japan, where are we going to find the equipment? The guns? Steal them from a field somewhere?"

"I could get us some, aru," China piped up from the back. "M4s, maybe even Colts, probably. I know some guys who know some guys who runs a place who can also get us ammo and refills, plus a few protective gears if anybody wants them, aru." He grinned. "For the right price, of course!"

"Ha!" Prussia barked a laugh. "I can stop a fifty bullets with just my abs! Show 'em your man boobs, West!"

"Brother, don't..."

"That's what I hoped you'll say," China said approvingly.

Italy pulled out the pencil he was sucking at with a plop. "I want to see Germany's man boobs," he said happily.

There was another short silence.

"Regardless of Italy's preferences," England said, as Italy's pleading wails to be let go and please don't hurt hims floated from the edge of the room, accompanied by Germany's furious spluttering, "It is still a dangerous and irresponsible idea, and there is no way the teachers will approve of it."

America rolled his eyes. "Well, duh. That's why we're going to do it at night. In secret. Right, Japan?"

The smaller boy spluttered. "I – America-kun, it's – England-san, this isn't –"

"Don't you drag my vice-president into this," countered England angrily. Japan's face flamed impossibly red, and he fell into a steaming silence. "I maintain that it is stupid, you're stupid, and anybody who agrees with you is –"

"I don't know, it sounds like worth a shot to me," Hungary said, twirling her hair around her fingers.

England stared at her, eyes wide. "Hungary? But – you –"

She looked back at him defiantly, chin raised. "What is it, England? You going to badmouth a lady?"

Prussia snickered, and shut up once a glower was delivered his way.

"Besides," Hungary continued coldly, "I am wholly against the idea of forcing the girls to wear cat ears and maid costumes, which would be inevitable if the cafe option was somehow passed. It's debasing and sexist." She glared at France, who despite himself shrunk away a little. "I am prepared to fight for my rights, and the freedom of choice in costume. For both boys and girls. Theatre FTW!" She quickly covered her mouth.

"A real M4 rifle," murmured Switzerland, his eyes watching something far away. "If I could just hold that sleek majesty, not to mention feel the weight as it rests on my arms, and the utter glory of those aluminium shells falling out with every jump and jolt..."

His fingers were twitching disturbingly. Bulgaria, leaning on a desk beside him, edged away.

"I think it'll be fun, yes," Russia said, smiling. "We do not need to hold back, that is correct? Because," his smile grew just a tiny bit wider, "This is not a real war, yes?"

"Right on, dude!" America said enthusiastically. "We couldn't blow each other's brains out even if we wanted to! Really really wanted to!"

Russia gave a dark chuckle. "We shall see about that."

Denmark cast a quick look around the gathered students. Most of them looked interested in the idea, although a few, like Germany returning to his space with a whining Italy in tow, wore more than sceptical looks. He glanced at Norway, separated from him by Cuba and the strange floating polar bear. As always, his face was unreadable, and it was only the reminder that he was trying to get into Nor's good graces that had Denmark biting his lips, when usually he would be whooping his appreciation at the thought of a chance to display his shooting-while-crawling-on-his-belly skills.

"See, England?" America grinned, turning back to him. "Everyone wants to do it! You're not going to be a spoilsport, are you?"

"I don't care if I am," England said, bristling. "In case you need reminding, two out of those three have the potential to cause bodily harm at the very least, and the third already has an existing record –"

Hungary's smiling eyes seemed to bore through his skull.

"–that I have never seen before, ever, in my life, no sir, but the point remains," he took a deep breath, and glared at the American. "That I. Will not. Allow this."

America threw up his hands. "Fine. Be that way. Show's off, guys, it's not happening." A groan went through the crowd. "Sorry. But if the school president's against it, there's nothing we can do."

"Just pick another time," France said smoothly. "And don't tell Eyebrows about it."

"I'm right here, frog," 'Eyebrows' snarled. America, however, shook his head.

"Come on, France," he smiled, "You know he could stay up all night at school to catch us if we give him the chance. And besides, what fun's a gun fight if there's no England to shoot at?"

France, along with a handful of other students, nodded thoughtfully. "True."

"I'm. Right. HERE."

"If old stick-in-the-ass can't get the stick out," America sighed dramatically, "Then there's nothing we can do, is there? There goes our fun." He waved a hand in front of England's face, closed it, and opened it. "Poof."

England's face turned scarlet, and squaring up his shoulders, he glared up into America's bespectacled eyes. "I am not about to be guilt-tripped into this, you little brat. It's against a bunch of school rules, and whatever China says, his plans to get his hands on the guns may or may not be breaking a few felonies." ("Aiyah! I assure you, it's all perfectly legal... at my house!") "You should be THANKING me for stopping you – I don't even know why I'm bothering."

America laughed suddenly, throwing his head back. "Oh, it's okay, England," he grinned brightly, eyes shining. "You don't have to lie."

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously, it's okay," America shrugged, "We all know you're just.." He leaned in, winking. "…Scared."

"Ooh," Spain called, smugly, giggling even as England shot him a death glare and Romano jabbed him with an elbow out of terror. France and Prussia snickered nearby.

England whirled back on America. "And pray tell," he snarled, "Just what am I afraid of?"

America shrugged, again, his wide grin still in place even as his eyes flickered once to the side from beneath Texas. "Oh, you know. Well. Just that you won't be able to keep up with us. Yeah, that's it."

Denmark almost shook his head unbelievably. Come on, even he could tell what America was trying to do. There was no way that England, top of their class and president of the school council, would fall for –

"That is the most ridiculous claim I have ever heard," the school president scoffed loudly. Denmark rolled his eyes. "I assure you, I can beat you at warfare any day of the week!"

Den felt his jaw drop. You're kidding me.

"Oh yeah?" America countered, barely able to contain his triumphant grin. He was on a roll, now; he'd gotten what he wanted. He spread his arms wide, challenging. "You've got a pretty loud bark, man, but I bet your bite's got nothing on me. Hey, tell you what," his gloating grin grew even wider, and Denmark got a feeling of what was coming next. "I challenge you, old man, to a – a – full-out shoot out! Yeah! How 'bout it?"

He stuck a defiant finger in front of England's face, who slapped it away in a second, scowling.

"I'll make you eat those words along with twenty bullets stuffed down your throat, you cheeky bastard," he growled. There was something in his eyes that screamed out to everybody in the room that maybe, just maybe, this was a bad idea.

Japan finally stepped in, uncertain and hesitant. "Um, England-san," he said. "I do not know if –"

"Japan," the school council president said, eyes still on America, "Prepare the flags."

"Pardon me?"

"Each team's goal will be to steal a coloured flag from the other's territory in order to win this battle. We cannot fight without a clear mission in mind! China, get the guns. By Friday." He ignored the protests sounding from where China stood. "Make it quick! The teachers are grading the papers from last week's exam –" a good portion of the class winced – "and so would be marking them at home to finish them all that day. We'll have the night to ourselves, once we take down the guard."

There was a sort of manic gleam to his eyes now, as he twirled on his heels and stepped out of the ring of students, who parted the way for him. "And the rest of you! Be at the grounds by one-nine-hundred sharp! The cafe troops will meet at lunchtime this Wednesday to discuss tactics, and tardiness will not be accepted! Dismissed!"

Somebody might have tried to say something – Japan, trotting quickly at his president's heels, was certainly trying, and maybe Germany, who was turning steadily from red to purple. Maybe France or Spain had looked affronted that Eyebrows was somehow taking the lead, and they might have argued, but before anyone could open their mouth, the bell rang. Talking loudly amongst themselves, the crowd dispersed, and Denmark took brief notice of America staring determinately at the retreating Brit's back, arms crossed, before hurrying back to his own seat as the ever-punctual Professor Germania strode in to take attendance for first period.

He tried to catch Nor's attention as he took his seat, but Nor took no notice of him and instead chose to stare at some spot on the blackboard. Germania's math class had a no-note passing policy, which didn't matter anyway since Denmark had to spend a good twenty minutes being yelled at for not doing his homework again, and was made to stand in the corridor, where he and America complained to each other about how it was unfair that nations like the Italy brothers and Poland had friends or boyfriends or relatives who made sure they actually did the extra work (or did it for them).

"Sooo..." Finland raised his eyebrows, and wriggled them expectedly, "how did it go?"

Denmark shot a tired glare at the obviously excited Finn. "You were there, most of the time."

"Yes! But not all of it!"

He groaned. Seriously, what was up with Fin recently?

Sweden gazed down at the golden crown of his "wife"'s head (who was practically bouncing cross-legged in the grass). "Y're so c'te l'ke th't."

"Eep! I'm sorry, Su-san, what was that?"

Denmark, who had secretly learnt how to decipher the Swede's confusing speaking habit through years of growling expletives at each other through gritted teeth, chose to say nothing to help when the taller boy looked away with a ferocious scowl, possibly his attempt at a blush. They sat under a birch tree growing at the corner of the courtyard, as the trickle of students leaving school for the day started to thin. There was no Nordic club meeting today, but Finland and Sweden had pulled Denmark over as soon as class had let out to hear his progress with Norway.

Denmark gritted his teeth. "I brushed his shoulder against mine, once. Otherwise we had different classes for the rest of the day, so that's it."

Finland let out something that suspiciously sounded like a "squee". Den hoped he'd misheard. "That's wonderful! I knew you had it in you! See what you can accomplish if you set your mind on something?"

"I guess." If the growing discomfort in his chest was any cause for worry. "But I don't really see how this will help –"

"It will," Finland said firmly. "Effect's been taking hold already, I can tell. Give it a few more days, maybe a week, and Norway'll be wondering what's up with you! Don't you want him to be wondering?"

That did sound nice. "But – Fin, a week? I'll explode!"

"No you won't." Sometimes he wished he had more sympathetic friends.

Sweden was nodding, like as though he did anything else when Finland spoke. He wanted to punch in those glasses, too.

Just as Denmark was whining – very manli-ly, definitely not in the way the younger Italy did when Germany had taken away his pasta – and had curled up in a small ball, his head between his knees, a whirl of messy sand-yellow hair and black material came to a screeching stop before them. "Finland! Sweden! Denmark! Thank goodness, I've caught you. Give me your affiliated teams!"

Finland blinked. "E-England? What's the rush? And why are you wearing a wizard's cape?"

England snatched the billowing midnight-black cape from his shoulders, blushing slightly over his already flushed cheeks. "This is nothing! It's nothing! It's definitely not a super-important component of the super-secret Dark Magic Clu – I mean!" He huffed. "I have been searching all over for you lot, you're the last ones to sign your life away for my cause - I mean, choose which team you want to be in. For the gun fight. Which we're changing to paintballs if it's the last thing I do. Definitely not because I don't want to hurt America, that big oaf, when I take him down and laugh at his downfall, obviously, he's too thick-skinned for it to hurt anyway –"

"So soon?" exclaimed Finland, ignoring the rant that dwindled down to a lot of frantic hand gestures and looking around for no sign of America.

"Well," England huffed – he was really out of breath – "The cafe team needs to get the plan down by tomorrow, and America's being a right little copycat and setting the theatre team's meeting at the same time. I've been rushing around collecting signatures and teams from everyone – my council helped, of course, except for France that bastard – and I need yours now."

"Oh," Finland said as politely as he could. He took the slip of paper England handed him, and passed another to Sweden. "So you really are on the cafe team?"

"Of course. What other great opportunity would there be for me to be able to serve my superior tea and home-baked scones?"

All three Nordics looked at each other in a rare moment of unity. "Ma'be j'st th' tea," Sweden said.

"What was that?"

Denmark cut in quickly. "Uh, hey, England, if we're the last ones, then has ... has Norway signed already?"

The pair of bushy eyebrows pulled themselves together. "Norway? Yes, I had a poetry class with him last period. What about him?"

Damn. He'd been so preoccupied with keeping his distance from Nor today, he hadn't had the chance to ask him which team he wanted. "You wouldn't, ah, happen to know which side he's on, would you?" Denmark tried. He ignored the sparkly-eyed look Finland was sending from beside him.

But England was shaking his head. "No can do, old chap. Each choice must be made independently, without any influence from an external source. We're all serious about our projects, see? And we can't have people joining one group because they're friends or going out with someone there. Or have someone they want to obliterate on the other side. I have to deal with France, so tough it up, love."

The Dane's jaw dropped. "That's not fair! No way is everybody following that rule, you have people like them," he gestured to Finland and Sweden, who were already scratching into their slips, "who can practically read each other's minds! They're bound to choose the same thing!"

England shrugged. "That is hardly my problem. Besides, even if they do happen to be on the same team," he took both slips from the other two, squinted at them, and replaced them in his bag, "then it's purely coincidental. Or one was simply very persuasive to the other. All is fair." He shrugged. "Besides, if you and Norway are as close as you always loudly, obnoxiously proclaim to be, you should be able to read his mind then, hmm?"

He had a point. Denmark frowned in concentration. He and Norway were best buds – sure, they had their differences, but that's how friends were. How best friends were. He hadn't spent a good portion of his life with the mysterious boy without picking up the more subtle signs off him, and he prided in being able to call himself the greatest, if not only, expert on Norway in the whole school (except perhaps Iceland. But that didn't count, they were siblings, and nothing could get in between siblings, he'd learnt).

Norway was quiet, but not shy. Norway wasn't anti-social, he just seemed to float above everything. Norway was the only one in the entire school who actually liked having tea with England and talking about faerie folk and whatnot. Norway was steady with his hands (of course – he was a Nordic), wasn't afraid of giving critical reviews of the products Den would try to sell at his part-time job (or rather, Den himself), and would look stunning in a maid outfit.

Den scribbled "cafe" onto his slip of paper, and handed it to England before he could change his mind or question the last thought he had. The school president nodded, satisfied, as he accepted the final paper.

"Your cooperation will be much appreciated, and I swear on the behalf of the Fellowship of the Class Ring that your sacrifice will not be in vain – I mean, let's fight together and let me use you as an insignificant stepping stone in defeating the evil America – I mean kicking his arse - oh, bollocks," he muttered, and he and his folded cloak (only 9.99, at the Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions near you!) swept away hurriedly across the courtyard, back to the school building.

Denmark spoke after the British boy was well out of earshot. "You guys chose theatre, didn't you."

"They're always in need of a few extra hands!" Finland said defensively. "And I'm sure Su-san will be more than contributive, he makes the best furniture out of all of us – and with really easy instructions!" He beamed up at Sweden, who promptly glared at a poor flower growing amongst the weeds, although by now they all knew that his grimace was because the setting sun was in his eyes.

Denmark sighed, remembering what a skilled shot Finland had been with slingshots and water guns and plastic arrows when they had been younger, and a chill ran down his spine. He would not want to be in the place of the poor bastard who underestimated the slight boy on sight. The Dane had known he was taking a big risk by choosing the cafe team, but Norway being on the same team should make things bearable.

He perked up almost immediately. He could show Norway all his cool moves and one-liners he'd memorised from Tom Crew films! Maybe he could get a bike, a big red one, and then he'll sit Norway on the back and he could drive, without mirrors, while Norway leaned over and fired at their pursuers while keeping an arm or a tight, trouser-clad leg across his waist –

"Oh, Nor!" Fin called, waving his arms widely. "And Ice, too!"

Speak of the devil.

The two brothers were traipsing across the well-trimmed grass over to them, Iceland clutching at his shoulder-bag hold and keeping a determined step or two ahead of Nor. Denmark shook the ebbing remnants of his strange fantasy away, and straightened up, and almost ran to glomp Norway before remembering that he was acting cool right now, and for at least a week – a week! But maybe he can cut that period short by showing off his badass side on Friday. He settled for a subdued grin and a wave, before returning his shaking hand to his pockets and earning a strange look from Iceland for his trouble. Norway, as always, looked unconcerned.

"I heard your class is doing something stupid," were the first words out of Iceland's mouth when they reached the tree.

Finland sighed exasperatedly. "Nor, you know you can't tell him –"

"He knew before I did," Norway replied, although he didn't deny he was going to. "It was that Hong Kong kid, he apparently got a phone call from China enlisting help in procuring goods for 'those impossibly demanding Eyebrows, aru' by Friday. And he called during class, so it would have been hard to be inconspicuous."

"Oh, dear," Finland groaned. "Well, trusting Hong Kong, he covered it up well enough. You're not to tell anybody, okay, Ice? We could get suspended for doing this, or worse, expelled!"

The youngest Nordic scoffed. "Duh. Why would I do something that's so not worth it? But can I come watch?"

"No." Norway eyed him shrewdly; he could be the big brother sometimes, if only Ice would let him. "Besides, why would you? You called it stupid not ten seconds ago."

"I – buh – you –"

"Did you see England already?" Both Fin and Sweden nodded. Den managed a sort of jerky action with his neck. When had his palms gotten so sweaty? "Let me guess," to Finland and Sweden, "you two chose theatre."

"Is it so wrong?" asked Finland tightly.

"No."

"O-oh. Thank you."

"Norway!" Denmark burst out, speaking for the first time since the brothers had arrived. Dammit, his hands would be sprouting a waterfall from his pockets soon, and he didn't know why he was so nervous. It was worse when Norway finally turned his bored eyes on him. "You're – what did you choose?"

Nor stared at him for a long, contemplating second. "...You first."

Why not? "Cafe!" he announced proudly, certain that his best friend would say the same. They could talk about what kind of themed cakes they could make on the way home, and tomorrow they'll go over their special combination techniques and maybe Denmark could die a heroic death (not really possible, but he could dream) protecting Norge from an enemy bullet – or paintball, whatever...

"Hm." Norway paused again. Then, slowly, kind of creepily, his lips started to smile. Denmark could have died right at that moment – when had he last seen Norway smile?

Except, well, his eyes weren't.

"Well, Anko. I guess we'll see you on the battlefield. I'm aiming for the director's seat for theatre."

...Yeah, he really could have died at that moment. He was as good as, anyway.

A/N:

About the title: Because I always felt that the characters of Hetalia all play a different part only they can fill, kind of like an orchestra. Too poetic-y? Maybe.

About the Nordics: They're close friends. Really! The drama was much worse when they were in middle school/junior high, but they've softened up since then and have made up. Den and Su-san still get it up with each other once in a while, but by the time they graduate they're how you see modern day Den and Su-san in the manga and anime (and yes, they do graduate in this universe. Eventually.) And Den isn't an idiot, although he acts like it most of the time – he's just boisterous and energetic, and tends to lose sight of things around him, but no-one can deny he has a big heart.

And as for why Finland and Sweden (or really just Finland, Sweden being the good, supportive husband he is) are being so fangirly, they've already suspected for a long, long while that Den has feelings for Nor. And only recently suspected that Nor might return then. Why waste a perfect opportunity to check that? (And see Denmark squirm, in Sweden's case.)

About the years/grades: Yeeaah…I'll be the first to admit that I hadn't quite thought out the ages and corresponding school years/grades to this. Or how everyone even ages. Let's pretend that the somewhat "younger" nations are in a "grade" below – for example, Iceland, Hong Kong, Taiwan, South Korea (who isn't really what I'd call "young", but was shown to be pretty chummy with Hong Kong, and I thought "Wouldn't it be more fun to lump them altogether in a group, and Iceland kind of tags along with the trendy Asians and they do teenage things together?" So.), Lichtenstein, Vietnam (again, association with Taiwan, and Lichten needed more girl friends?), and Belarus (placed here solely for Russia's comfort, haha) – but that doesn't necessarily mean that they are all the same age. Likewise for our main characters – Spain, France, Prussia, Hungary, England, etc are obviously a year or two older than America, Germany, and the Italy brothers (who are twins in my headcanon and thus the same age), but they're placed in the same grade and so will graduate together when the time comes. Maybe they have some classes together, like homeroom or Germania's math class, while others like, I don't know, politics are separated by level or how their governments runs things (so Russia and China got to have a class all to themselves at one point? Sweet). The students I've had in mind which are in the grade above them are just Greece and Ukraine at the moment, set to graduate the fastest (whenever that is). China and Japan are in fact even older, but the headmaster *coughRomecough* didn't believe them or their track record when they entered the school, not that it really matters to either of them right now.

About Hetalia Gakuen: Hetalia Gakuen is a prestigious, old school, currently directed by the very charismatic and well-aged Headmaster Rome, which educates and nurtures young and old nations to cooperate with each other in order to create a peaceful and prosperous world (obviously not our own, sadly enough). The Gakuen consists of a kindergarten, a primary faction, a secondary faction, and is also connected with Hetalia University, located on a different campus. Alongside basic subjects such as languages, mathematics, science, etc, students are also taught subjects such as economics and politics, religious studies, and even law to ready them for a future as a nation worthy of their duties (although graduates have been known to pursue their separate careers in addition as well). Basically, don't question it.

Paintball gun fight: …Yeah, I kind of ripped off School Rumble on that part, if you've noticed. Not intentionally at first, but conclusively so. I'm going to have to re-watch the episodes again to see what else I can use – um, avoid.

The Gakuen Universe as a whole: I am planning for this to be a long-term project (and I mean it when I say "long" – I'm not a very frequent updater, though I try). The other characters all have their separate back stories and future plans already, so I'm hoping to expand on them – I even have a mental flow chart with diagrams and everything! So please stay with me, especially if you have other favourite characters and want to follow their adventures. I sincerely hope it'll be worth your time.