49[Okay, so I've decided to reply to unsigned reviews in the ANs. Why? Because I love you. And I WANT TO SPEAK WITH YOU. 8'D.
Atramentaceous:. I'm glad that you're not angry at me for the wait. Thanks for understanding. ; U ;.
Oh, dear, there are so many possibilities of pairings in this fic/universe. I might be writing more stories in it…. It just depends on what you guys say. :D… But…. I hope you like many pairings, because this is going to be all over the place… LIKE MY OTP LIST. 8'D.
I'm glad it made you laugh. I try. ; U ;. And thanks for the compliment.
Well, there's not much to say… Other than, OH CRAP. YOU REVIEWERS. I LOVE YOU. LET ME RAEP YOU WITH HUGGLES.
I've been forgetting to put disclaimers in the chapters. I don't own Hetalia, even though it owns my soul and body.
ALSO, this is the longest chapter that I've ever written. :'D.]
The rest of the week passed by in a blur. Lukas went to the bus stop, watched the Asians, got on the bus, talked to Toris, got off the bus, got tackled by Magnus, went to class, went to the club, and got driven home by the Dane. He settled into this comfortable routine by Wednesday, slightly appalled that he'd adjusted to the annoying Danish teen and the various other oddities in his life so quickly.
On Saturday morning, he rolled out of bed at ten-thirty, blinking sleep from his dark blue eyes. He shuffled out into the hallway, overlong gray sweatpants dragging at the carpet, and poked his head into his cousin's room. The Icelandic boy was curled into a ball facing the opposite wall, the top of his ruffled silver hair barely visible over the top of the nest of blankets he was surrounded in.
He smiled sadly and went back into his room. He grabbed his phone off his chest of drawers, checking the time and wondering why he'd woken up so early.
Suddenly, the grey contraption buzzed in his hands. He didn't recognize the number and opened the message, wondering who the heck was texting him and how they'd gotten his number.
From: 3045671234
Coming 2 get u in an hour. Be ready, Luke. ;)
!-MAGS-!
Btw stole your # from Kiku ;D.
Lukas's face sunk into a scowl, and he resisted the urge to slam his forehead into the wall. Then, he puffed out his cheeks and shuffled into the kitchen to prepare something to eat, saving Magnus's number into his phone as he went .He figured that he'd end up needing it sooner or later.
After a hurried meal of his mom's yogurt and half of one of Emil's blueberry pop tarts, he took a quick shower and pulled on one of his typical outfits; dark jeans, a shirt in a lighter shade of blue than he normally wore, and his pin.
He had killed forty-five minutes with his preparations, and now had nothing to do but sit in his living room and watch television with the volume turned almost all the way down so as to not wake his mother and cousin.
His phone buzzed again, this time on the arm rest of the couch. He rolled his eyes and picked it up, expecting it to be from Magnus. However, his phone identified the number as Emil's. He opened it.
From: Emil
I'm going out today. Are you doing anything?
He stared blankly at the message. Emil… was going out? That was certainly new. Still slightly bewildered, he replied with a, "Yes, I'm going to my friend's," he slightly twitched at calling the blonde Dane that, "And I don't know how long I'll be gone. Where are you going?"
He sat for a few moments, and heard his cousin's door creak open. Then, he received another text. Ignoring the Norwegian's question, Emil had simply said, "Leave your mom a note."
Lukas made a face at his phone and pressed the end button venomously. Then, only seconds later, he heard the sound of a fist slamming into the apartment door.
"Hello~! Anyone home?" called that voice through the wood, still beating on the poor door mercilessly. Lukas winced at the volume and quickly threw the door open, halfway hoping that he'd smack the Dane in the nose as he did so.
"God, not so loud, Magnus! My mom's asleep and my cousin just woke up!" he hissed under his breath.
"Oh. Sorry, man!" the Dane said, barely lowering his voice at all. Lukas made a face at him and grabbed his house key, wallet, and phone off the table beside the couch. He shoved them into his jeans pocket, walked over to the door, and pulled his jacket off the inside doorknob. As he was putting it on, Magnus made to come inside.
"No, you don't." Lukas said, sticking out his foot to stop him from entering. Magnus, being the enormous idiot that he was, didn't notice the Norwegian's foot and tripped. He grabbed wildly at the air, trying to find something to stop him from falling.
However, all he managed to do was grab Lukas around the knee and bring the smaller teen down with him.
With an enormous crash, the two landed in a heap, with Magnus's butt on one of Lukas's legs, the two of them knocking heads, one of the shorter's hands in the taller's armpit, and a Danish elbow dangerously close to a Norwegian crotch.
The sound of a door slamming and running feet echoed through the hallways, mixing in with groans of pain and "get your ass off my legs".
"LUKAS? EMIL? Are you oka- who are you?" Lukas's mother's frantic voice called. She had stopped dead three feet from the tangled boys, staring at Magnus like he was a dead fish.
When Lukas finally managed to untangle himself from the Dane, he stood up and took in his mother's ruffled appearance. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed, which she probably did.
"Mom, this is that guy from the drama club. We're going to his house to practice our lines. I was going to write you a note, but then idiot here decided to trip and-"
"No, you tripped me!" interrupted the Dane indignantly, rubbing his head and sitting up.
"Well, you were trying to come in!"Lukas snapped back, forgetting about his mother.
"What's the big deal?" Magnus huffed, crossing his arms and puffing out one of his cheeks.
Lukas opened his mouth, closed it, pinched the bridge of his nose, and finally breathed out, "I just don't want you coming in here, okay?"
"Why?"
Lukas sighed and said, "Look, can we please just leave?"
Magnus looked like he was going to argue, but Lukas shot him a pleading look and the retort died in his throat. He stood up, brushed himself off, and nodded at Lukas's mom.
"Er.. It was nice meeting you, ma'am!" he chirped, tossing out his signature confident grin. She couldn't help but offer one of her soft smiles back.
A few moments later, the boys were out the door into the slightly cool morning. The sun had burnt off most of the fog, and a few younger kids were hesitantly heading to the playground in the middle of the apartment circle.
Magnus unlocked his car, annoyingly clicking the button about two hundred times, as usual. The two climbed into their respective sides, and Magnus stuck his keys into the ignition.
Before he started the car, he turned to Lukas with a serious face. He stared at the Norwegian long enough to make him uncomfortable, then said, "Lukas…"
Said Norwegian raised an eyebrow.
"Your mom…. Is hot."
Cue the Norwegian making an imprint of his face on the car's window.
When they arrived at Magnus's house, Lukas couldn't help but gape. It was in one of the nicer neighborhoods, and had to be at least three times the size of his family's apartment.
"You didn't tell me you were loaded," he grunted as the car was parked and turned off. Magnus hopped out, followed by the Norwegian.
Magnus bit his lip, and mumbled something that sounded like, "Didn't think it mattered…"
Lukas didn't reply, and Magnus began to lead the way into the house, instructing the Norwegian to leave his shoes at the door.
"D'you want anything to eat?" asked Magnus, stopping beside the door of what appeared to be a kitchen the size of a small classroom. Lukas shook his head, and began to follow Magnus again. He was led down a darkened hallway and up a flight of stairs, trailing his hand along the wall out of habit.
"If you're gonna do that, make sure your hands are clean. My mom will have a spaz attack if she sees ANYTHING on this wall." Magnus said idly.
Lukas simply nodded and continued with what he was doing, eyes locked on the ground in front of him. Magnus turned around, smirk in place, and began to watch the Norwegian as he walked down the hallway backwards.
Lukas, feeling eyes on him, glanced up with his mouth in a line of irritation. Magnus's smirk grew, and Lukas stared at him for a few moments. They froze, standing like statues and gazes glued together.
Then, Magnus blinked.
"DAMMIT!" He yelled, stomping his foot.
Lukas snickered at him.
Magnus crossed his arms and pouted, then bounded into a room. Lukas poked his head around the corner of the doorframe and got his first view of the hyperactive teen's room.
Light red walls were completely covered in all kinds of posters and pictures. All of the furniture was a matching color of dark mahogany; the desk had a closed white laptop and crumpled up paper bits littered all about it. The bed was covered in a thick black comforter, with another red-and-white checkered blanket thrown carelessly over the end.
The floor was covered in a creamy white carpet, though its color was almost completely coated in a layer of dirty clothes, papers, magazines, and, oddly, empty paint canisters. The closet was cracked open, with clothes and coat hangers spilling out the crack. A shoe was crammed oddly in the corner. Another door was next to the closet; it was dark inside, and Lukas assumed that it was a bathroom.
Over the chest of drawers (that had odd socks hanging out), a wall-mounted television was hanging, its screen black. A stack of movies sat precariously atop the drawers.
Magnus opened the blinds on the windows over his bed, suddenly illuminating the whole scene. Lukas winced and blocked his eyes with his hand. Magnus flopped on his bed, rolled over, and said, "Well, are you going to sit down or not?" with a grin.
Lukas went over, brushed a few candy wrappers off of the bright red desk chair, and gingerly sat down.
"So… are we going to practice now?" he asked after a few moments of silence.
"No, silly!" Magnus said, turning on his bed so that he could flick Lukas in the forehead. Lukas made a face and slapped his arm away.
"Well, what are we going to do?" he asked stonily.
"We're going to watch Mean Girls."
Cue facepalm.