Disclaimer: If Axis Powers Hetalia were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.
Background music: Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution – AC/DC
Minimal fluff 09!
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As if the Year Wasn't Hard Enough! 4
Contrary to popular belief, being student council president isn't as hyped up as it seems to be. England can surely attest to this. The job involves excellent communication skills, especially to teachers and other ones-in-charge. You've also got to be one hell of a leader, if you want to be able to control damn kids like France. You've got a lot of responsibilities and you represent the whole student body so you've got to have some decency and mature judgment.
At least, England tells himself this when people find him and America hiding in an empty classroom, doing activities that definitely don't fall under appropriate school behavior.
Really, it escaped him how he could have even gotten involved with such a rude, inconsiderate idiot – not to mention America was one year younger and topped whenever their shenanigans turned horizontal (well, sometimes that damned second year liked it vertical, but for decency's sake, he wouldn't go there). He figured he must have been a little cracked when America asked him out and he said yes.
That was the only reasonable explanation.
America liked to tell all sorts of strange, heroic-sounding stories about how they had gotten together but England thought he ought to set the record straight of how it really happened. And it really wasn't anything spectacular, even if Hungary made it seem that way.
It happened the first day of his second year at UN. Having been voted the student body president in his first year (after totally pawning all the other competition; he was England, dammit), he had been given the honor to give the 'beginning-of-the-year' speech to the rest of the high school. He and then-vice-president France had to sit on the stage, overlooking the rest of the student body and looking as arrogant as possible. Sure, he'd been nervous when the principal, Rome, introduced him, but he found public speaking to be a doable task, and hell, he was the student body president – whoever dared interrupt him, he would be sure that said person would be given hell.
It started out pretty well. He was landing most of the points he was trying to set across (have a good year, be diligent in your studies, don't bully the first years…), and to his knowledge, most of the audience was listening and he was just starting to fully realize that damn, he was the student body president and…
Then a first year fell out of his seat, into the aisle – both rather loudly and rather distracting. The whole hall fell into a hush as the first year, a scruffy-looking blonde prat with glasses, stood up and brushed himself as if nothing had happened. Then, that kid dared, he straightened up, actually looked him in the eye, and said, "I'm okay, carry on."
In short, by the end of the beginning-of-the-year ceremony, England was royally pissed.
"If I ever see that kid," he had told France scathingly as they made their way to their first classes of the year, "I am going to make sure he chokes on his words and dies a horrible, painful death."
"It was probably an accident," France had said back, clearly meaning to stab more knives in England's already wounded pride.
"It was a blatant challenge to my authority," England shot back. "No respect at all, I swear these first years…no running in the halls!" The first year in question, a blonde who looked like a country hick, turned blankly at England before continuing to jog down the halls, calling, "Like, thanks but no thanks!"
"You're only the student body president, not king of the world," France reminded him, but England had stopped listening.
Those who knew England would know that once he got mad, he stayed mad. He was still angry during lunch break, even when Japan asked him if he was okay. No one would understand. It was his first role as someone who mattered, and that irksome first year had ruined the whole moment.
And honestly, if France would not shut up about this first year he had discovered…
Rome had called him to his office after school to discuss his plans for the rest of the school year. It had been a tiresome meeting, as Rome would occasionally break away from the subject at hand and tell stories from his past and ask did England meet his grandkids, a pair of brunette twins? to which England had said no, he hadn't and shouldn't they be talking about how to boost school spirit? After Rome had finished with his little (rather big, actually) spiel, England had decided to clear out the student council room before he went home because heck, he had time and he needed something to blow off steam.
The student council room had been the former teacher's lounge a few years back and the desks shoved haphazardly for the student council to inhabit were still horribly disorganized from last year. Grumbling, England had set off to loudly clearing out the room – so loudly, in fact, he didn't hear the sliding door open or close and he hadn't heard the intruder walk up to him until said person had started speaking.
"You're England, right?"
Jumping up with a start, England turned to see who in God's good name had spoken and glared when he recognized the haughty first year who had fallen out of his seat. "That's me," he said dangerously. "And you're the one who interrupted me when I was talking this morning."
"That's me," the first year said, shrugging. England straightened up and realized it would be to his disadvantage to beat this boy to the ground; he knew he wasn't very blessed in stature, but it was ridiculous to know that someone younger than him was considerably bigger than him. Well, he'd have to give this kid what was coming, nonetheless.
"Do you know how rude it is to interrupt someone when they're talking, especially if they're speaking in front of an audience?" His lecturing side had entered when he least expected it but at least he was giving this nameless first year a piece of his mind. "I don't know what lowlife school you came from, but at UN…" Before he could continue, however, the taller first year had grabbed him and shoved him against the blackboard behind him, England cursing silently to himself as he felt the chalk holder ram uncomfortably against his back. Was this kid trying to mess with him? On his first day?
"Hey, what the hell…" England began again, but before he could finish his second attempt at a scolding, the first year had shoved his tongue into his mouth, effectively shutting him up. Phft. This kid wasn't a good kisser, but with what he lacked in skill, he made up in enthusiasm. England had never met such an active kisser. He hadn't meant to (somehow all the anger seemed to flow away), but he just might have egged on the idiot by pulling him closer. Gasping as he felt the first year's fingers skit dangerously near his crotch, England pulled away, glaring up at the mischievous blue eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
The first year only smirked, threw back his head and said, "I'm America, I'm a first year, and I think you should go out with me 'cause I'm fucking awesome. Yeah?"
England gaped at this flamboyant show he would have expected of France, before his eyes focused somewhere lower. "I don't know if you're awesome, but you have a boner, and that show of indecency is…"
"Well, then, we've got to fix that, don't we?" Without warning, America reached out and grabbed England's crotch, rubbing affectionately through the cloth. Biting back a groan, England reached out to swat America's hand, although his hand feel short as he felt his body react and ooh, warmth…grasping America's sleeve, England tried to keep balance, his knees starting to feel weak.
"You can't talk now, can you?" America smirked, pulling his hand away and admiring his handiwork. England blushed in embarrassment; not only had he been insulted by this first year at the opening ceremony, but now he was reduced to this? What the hell, he was supposed to be older!
"Will you go out with me?"
Was this kid, America, really still on that subject? "I don't even know you," England muttered, trying to recover. America continued grinning, kneeling when England sighed and sank to his knees. "And you're a first year. I'd feel like a cradle robber."
America's laugh was loud and boisterous. "Then cradle rob away," he murmured, leaning forward again to claim England's lips again.
And that was that.
See, he really must have been cracked.
America, who had been enthusiastic about the whole relationship from the start, decided to take it a bit further and insert himself more in England's life (in other words, annoy him at all possible times) by running for student council vice president – and somehow won. England had been reelected again (no surprises, as he had his way around getting what he wanted) and was now stuck with his overzealous boyfriend at almost all hours of the day.
(Hungary had tried to run for a position as well, but failed.)
Their quite physical relationship was welcomed as second nature to the other student council members: France, who had decided to come back as the third year student body representative, had no qualms about inappropriate PDA – see America's twin brother, Canada; Japan, the quiet, polite second year representative, preferred to keep his comments to himself, opting for blunt yet politically correct observations; Seychelles, the bubbly second year secretary, had gotten used to America, thus used to his personality, thus causing her to have no reaction to watching him make out with England only to say that the student council cabinet had run out of cookies; Estonia, the second year treasurer, preferred to stay out of such things, along with Latvia, the first year student body representative.
And life went on. America had been supportive of him as he went on his hunt for universities to attend after his last year of high school. He continued with his student council president duties, spying on the various clubs after consulting their budgets with Estonia. Of course, America insisted on accompanying him, which was why the judo club discovered them rolling around in the equipment room.
He knew he had no right in thinking so, but England felt…
Well, simply, he felt as if the relationship between him and America had slowed to almost a stand-still.
Don't get him wrong, America wasn't lacking in the slightest in affection. God forbid. If so, he wouldn't have gotten so many talking to's from Rome after numerous teachers and students walked into any empty classroom and found them sprawled (thankfully, none of these times had progressed so far as absolute removal of clothing) on a nearby desk. They had already become quite infamous in the school community and if anyone wanted to talk about those annoying couples who were always throwing themselves on each other…England and America would be the first ones mentioned.
England didn't suspect America was cheating on him; he knew that when relationships came to a halt, it was either because the couple in question were old farts or one of the pair was being unfaithful. But he didn't think this was the case; America was still protective of him, grabbing him out of nowhere when the blonde second year thought Spain was getting too talkative (didn't America know his fellow third year was swapping spit with one of Rome's grandsons? Geez). America was a bit of a flirt when he wanted to, almost like France, and he had been one of the skirt-lifters when Latvia came to school in a skirt to promote student council activities. But America was almost clingy to England, only try to save face by acting as if he wasn't a whipped boyfriend (which he was, in certain ways). England didn't think he could cheat on America if he could (America was everywhere, it seemed), and he didn't know if he wanted to – the second year grew on him like an annoying yet attractive fungus.
It was just…there seemed to be nothing to their relationship but making out and infrequent innocent cuddly moments. There was no substance. England had a growing suspicion that if in the near future, making out became lethal, he and America would probably just be sitting around throwing barbs at each other. He didn't mind arguing with America so much (he was always right), but couldn't they have something…oh, he didn't know…more traditional? Not bouquets of roses or classical music – he didn't want to be sappy and he didn't think America had it in him to be so cheesy – but maybe a heart-felt note or two once in a while, and a date that didn't end in getting nearly arrested for lewd behavior.
England didn't know how to bring it up with America without sounding picky or angry or condescending or a combination of the three. America was extremely dense and he didn't think hinting would be a big hit. Of course, he could ask someone else to subliminally bring it up, but England didn't want anyone else knowing he felt unhappy with their relationship; it was already as public as it was. Too much publicity and Hungary could really tear them apart and he didn't want that, even if he was leaving by the end of the year for university.
It was a vicious cycle, really.
"England, you okay? Getting old, eh? Senioritis?" America laughed at his little joke, despite a glare shot in his direction.
"Oh, your wonderful powers of observation," England shot back sarcastically. Meanwhile, the rest of the student council watched aimlessly as Seychelles explained how he had gotten new snacks, including cookies with jelly in the middle. The only one interested seemed to be Latvia.
America had merely laughed at that, but when they were alone, when they were in America's car after the crazy driver second year had driven them around after school, he had asked his question again. "England, are you okay? You've been depressed lately, I think. You haven't yelled at me as much as before."
"You want me to?" England asked tiredly. It had been a long day full of exams and tests and he didn't really want to be discussing something so important with America, in the back of the steamy car, America's hand tangling itself in his hair.
"No. It's just…well, France told me you were looking troubled lately and I wanted to know if anything happened."
"No. Nothing happened." Mental note, kill France.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Nothing happened."
"No need to get all snappy."
"I'm not getting snappy! Shut up, okay?" Settling in a sulky mood, England shifted away from America, trying to smooth his now unruly hair. America sat up, staring at him thoughtfully.
"Guess what. Let's go somewhere. Far away. Right now. Okay?"
"What?" England turned to America with a look of pure surprise mixed with disgust. "First of all, we can't go anywhere far away; we don't have passports."
"Far away, I mean not here," America explained, rolling his eyes. "Don't get all anal with me, England. We're not running away forever. I know how much you love being the student council president. I'll get us back here in a day or two, okay? Relax. It's your last year at UN. A small vacation won't be any trouble at all."
"Maybe, but you're a second year."
"When have I ever cared about rules?" Giving a triumphant laugh, America revved up the engine. "Okay, cool! Off we go!"
"W-wait! We can't go anywhere, I don't have anything!"
"It's spur of the moment! You can't think out everything, Iggy!" America laughed as he used the nickname France had devised. "We won't be gone long," he promised again as he started driving in a random direction away from the school.
"Think this through, America," England tried again as they sped off. "People are going to be worried about us if we just up and left in the middle of the week. Not to mention cops! They're going to stop us if we're just wandering the streets in our uniforms! You don't have a chance of clothes, do you?"
"Yeah, I have a few spares. It's my goddamn car, England. I have everything here."
For once, England didn't doubt him. After he'd unearthed a plunger from the mess in the backseat, England had decided that America's car was America's car. "This is crazy," he attempted, but America held up a hand.
"I'm not listening to your practical reasoning, England. You overthink so much. It's only going to be a short break! Aren't you tired about how things are going on now? God, school is driving you completely crazy! Live a little!" Reaching into the glove compartment, America fumbled with the numerous inside while keeping his eye on the road and pulled out an AC DC album. "Put this in."
"Alright, maybe if I'm coming with you, that's okay." It was already useless to try and convince America to turn around, and personally, it sounded kind of exciting to go somewhere alone with America. "But I'm not going to be listening to some sort of music that you'd come up with."
"Eh? Shut up, Iggy. Angus Young had your accent last time I checked." Not bothering to argue, he grabbed the C.D from England's hand and put the disk in the player himself, swerving a bit on the road. "Rock and roll ain't noise pollution…"
"Don't sing," England groaned.
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By the time they reached 'far away', England was sure they'd never find their way home again. America had taken so many lefts and rights that without a trail of breadcrumbs, England couldn't pick his way back home even in the bright day. They had been on the road for a good hour and a half, with a chunk of that time on the freeway speeding toward who-knows-where. Sure, they were both capable, but England was the only one who was eighteen and therefore more or less the only able adult of the two of them. He figured that had to count for something.
It was getting dark and America had established that they had come far enough and hey, they had driven into a nice little city! (England had feared they had driven into the next country already) Finding a cute little motel on the outskirts of the city, America had rented a room, much to England's relief – he had been tired since the end of the day. Then he went into the room and turned back around to America.
"There's only one bed."
"So? It's not like you're a virgin."
Turning red, England shoved America back in the hallway. "Don't be disgusting. I actually want to sleep for once. Whenever you sleep over or when I go over your house, I'm drop dead tired the next morning."
"Wow, I'm that good, eh?"
"You're unbelievable."
America laughed, walking back into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Alright, alright, England. We'll sleep tonight, okay? We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
"What are we going to be doing? Finding our way home?"
"Nope! Tomorrow we'll do whatever happens to us in this city! Come on, you've got to say you're a bit excited!" America seemed thrilled as he headed to the bathroom to get ready to sleep and came out in pajama pants as if he had a change of clothes conveniently underneath whatever he had been wearing. Frowning as he saw England trying to do work at the tiny desk, America grabbed the papers and binder in one quick movement and opened the window, tossing them out.
"America, you wanker, do you know what you just did?"
"No working when you're here, Iggy. And hell, you can probably pick them up from the ground tomorrow morning. It's not windy and we're only about a story from the ground."
Almost as if to spite him, it started raining.
"If I lose all the student council requests," England growled, his eye twitching, "I'm going to have to kill you. Painfully and slowly."
America grinned. "I can take it. It's sleepytime!" Grabbing the struggling third year, America collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. Grumbling still, England extracted himself from America's arms and went to turn off the lights. Stupid America. Setting the alarm clock, England tossed some sheets over America before snuggling up to the idiot himself. Sometimes he really played the mother around here.
--
England had set the alarm to six, but America had thrumped him awake by five-thirty. Startled by a sudden weight on the bed, England awoke to see America jumping onto the bed, fully clothed in jeans and an atrocious neon orange hoodie. "Wake up, England! We've got to get a start on the day! Yeah, let's go! Let's go!"
"What time is it?"
"Time to get a new watch! Actually, it's time for you to get up. Oh, and do you have any money?" Shoving the bill that had been slipped under the door, America pounced away to watch some television, leaving England to stare at the receipt. Well, at least the motel could have cost more money…still, he didn't think America had a couple hundreds lying about. Sighing to himself, England knew it would be the first time using the credit card only for emergencies. It wouldn't do to be stranded in this place just because they couldn't fork the bill.
Just as England was paying at the front counter, America jogged up to him, thrusting the black binder he had thrown out of the window the night before. "Here, I got all your papers. Let's go already!" England opened the binder as America bounced away, noting that the papers that had been sogged beyond repair had been painstakingly recopied in America's messy handwriting. It made England wonder just how early the second year had gotten up.
The collection of student council requests in England's hands were the only organized part of the day. America had taken the car off on a joy ride as if gas money was not an issue (England made it clear that student council funds would not cover how much it took to get back home). Then abandoning the car in a blatantly no-parking zone, America dragged England around the city. England had not brought a change of clothes and wearing America's pants would be like wearing a ridiculously long dress so the happy-go-lucky second year forced some collage sweater over his uniform.
America's fashion didn't include anything besides any sort of jean product or baggy articles of clothing. Frankly, England wanted to give him a lesson in how to dress but heaven forbid America would actually sit still long enough for him to talk about formal attire.
America seemed to know this city like the back of his hand. England swore he had been dragged from a hot dog stand to a photo booth, to a library where America shelved rather adult material in the children section. Before England could get his bearings, America whisked him off to a tall building, which looked like a business building but America managed to sneak past security. It apparently was the tallest building in the city (or so America said) and they rode the elevator all the way to the top.
"Fuck yes! This is what I'm talking about!" he shouted as he dashed out on the roof, throwing his hands up as if he could take off into the sky. England, the more grounded of the two, followed him with a glower. "If we're caught, America, we're going to be a world of trouble. Not only are we trespassing, but we're purposely skipping school and…"
"Oh shut up." England blinked at being spoke like that and opened his mouth to yell at America when the latter grabbed him and led him to the edge.
"See? We're on top of the world!" America cheered again, throwing his hands up. "Come on, Iggy. Admit it. We're so high up we can basically forget about school! And France! And the student council! Yeah!" He put his hands down again, grinning apologetically at England. "And anyway, we're already here, so relax, alright?"
England huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm just saying, if we're caught…"
"If we threw a coin down, would it severely injure whoever it landed on?!"
After a chunk of time trying (America emptying his change pocket), the two settled on agreeing that it probably didn't really harm anyone too badly, but it was amusing to watch.
"Some hobo's gonna be grateful I did that," America joked, sitting back on the bench near the edge. England laughed shortly, although the joke had been stale. The two sat in silence for a moment, before America shifted, scratching his head awkwardly.
"Eh…England…I'm gonna miss you when you go next year…" It was obvious that this sentence had been practiced and by the way America's face looked so embarrassed, genuine as well. England stared at him and America stammered on.
"Well…I mean…you know…Canada was saying that France had been talking about leaving and then I thought of you and…I know you're leaving for university so…I wanted to make memories with you." It was so heartfelt and serious that the mood was suddenly sobered…and England laughed.
"What?" America demanded, his face red. England shook his head, trying to overcome his laughter to explain himself.
"It's just…you said…we're going to make memories." At the phrase, England burst out laughing again, even with America's disapproving look. "I mean, I like your sediments…but really…making memories?"
"I mean it!" America insisted. "You seemed down lately, so I wanted to cheer you up by going somewhere with you! But of course, like usual, it's not enough…"
"Oh, no. That's not what I meant. It's plenty." England smiled as he leaned over to kiss America on the cheek. "It was exactly what I was thinking…so…thank you, America."
America stared at him. "So you'll miss me when you go?"
"Much."
For a moment, America seemed to be contemplating if he should hold back, thought better of it, before grabbing England and pulling him for an appropriately Hollywood kiss. Just as America started reaching for England's pants, a security guard made his rounds on the roof, catching them. "Hey! You two! What do you think you're doing?"
They made quite a picture, looking hot and bothered with one reaching for the other's pants. Suddenly, America stood up, looking seized with genius.
"Well, you know what? Surprise! You're on candid camera!"
Oh, how they were going to explain their way out of this one, England thought ruefully.
Owari
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Note: Yeah, shoot me. Obscure AC/DC, Empire State Building, Loveless references. I hope no one noticed. It's not supposed to be sappy! I'm sorry! But USUK is sort of hard to write serious for. Hell, they're kind of hard to write in general. Next up is Estonia/Latvia, and a peek into more of the student council world! Get excited! Review!