Chapter 8 - The Assistant Teachers
There's only some swearing in my own AN.
Disclaimer: I think we get the point: I don't own wonderful anime or books known as Hetalia - Axis Powers, or Harry Potter, respectively.
Before you read: To those worried about pacing, I totally agree. I read the last one and thought 'bleggghhh', but was waaaay too lazy to redo it.
The sound that England made couldn't really be described, but if you had to label it, it would be somewhere between "harpy" and "groan of frustration that doubles as sexy moan". Kind of like "EEEAgggghn."*
"Iggy, Iggy, your eyebrows just got thicker! Does that happen when you're mad?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to cool off, Arthur spoke in a strained voice. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, you sodding git?"
"Just spreadin' some good ol' Amurican prahd!" The grin never faltered, instead it just widened with the classic Southern accent that he knew irked England so much. "Why, I heard from the cow's mouth itself that I was the assistahnt teacha fo ya, nah aren't I?"
"Can you please stop mangling the Queen's language?" Kids started arriving for class, milling around the door.
Not giving an answer to Arthur, Alfred just pointed to the entrance, avoiding a fight by distracting Arthur with the students.
"Right. I have to teach." Setting his papers down on the desk, England directed a 'scourgio!' at the messy wall before waving the students in.
"Now, class, this is Mr. Jones. He'll be in here for the rest of the year as my assistant teacher. He does know history well, but I would advise you to not ask him too many questions at once, as he is quite easily distracted." Arthur was smirking by the end of his statement, he just couldn't resist taking a jab at the superpower.
"Hey! That was cruel!" The students in the room winced at the American's volume, rubbing at their ears a bit.
"Alfred, would you please tone it down? The people in this country are used to a more respectable tone." That condescending smirk grew snarkier. "After all, not everyone can be the ugly American."
Many of the girls in the room thought, "Well, he may be annoying, but he is far from unsightly…".
America's retort brought England down from his snobbish cloud quickly, however. "Hey, we can always thank the British for sendin' over the best and brightest to start the party, huh?"*
England wizened up, shaking his head to clear it. Pulling out a stool from pretty much nowhere, Arthur patted it and gestured to Alfred. "C'mon. Sit down, we actually have a class to teach."
Folding his arms and pouting childishly, Alfred resigned himself to the bar stool, knowing he wouldn't be of much help to Arthur. What a hero he was…
Much of the day had been spent with Arthur lecturing while America made stupid comments. Once or twice he actually had something useful to say, but it was only on the subject of ancient Native American folklore and magic.
Walking into the kitchen area of the tiny dorm-style kitchenette (since the arrival of the other nations, Dumbledore had changed the room assignments), England set a tea kettle on the wood stove. 'When will the wizards learn how much easier electricity is?...' Sighing, Arthur muttered an ignition spell and pulled out some cups and teabags for him and Alfred.
Said nation came walking out of the shower just then, a towel slung low on his hips and blonde hair sopping wet. England faintly blushed at the sight of Alfred's firm abdominal muscles, slightly wondering how the hell he kept so fit when he shoveled garbage into his mouth like a pig at the trough.
"So, Iggy how'd I do today?"
"You were remarkably well-behaved. I mean, for someone as ADHD as you it's amazing that you didn't set something on fire or accidently crush one of the children. And I swear to God, if you shake out your hair like a dog I'll…"
"Hey, don't be so mean to me. You probably wouldn't get laid without me. And France doesn't count."
"I don't think I would have any trouble getting laid, I was quite the harlot back in the day. And it's not like France would bed me anyways; our love-hate relationship ended awhile ago." A loud moan followed by "Non, papa," could be heard from the room adjacent to theirs. "Yes, and for right now, he's got his hands all over poor Matthew…"
"My bro doesn't mind it. With all of his French influence, believe me, Mattie doesn't mind it."
The tea kettle began to whistle, and England removed it from the heat, pouring the water into the cups. "You like an ungodly amount of sugar in your tea, right?"
"Yessir."
Stirring their beverages, a sudden thought occurred to Arthur. "I wonder if Tore has murdered Mathias yet."
Not in the least bit concerned for his friend, Alfred cheerfully replied, "Naw, don't sweat it. Norway's always threatening him, but Mathias has only ever had his nose broken a few times."
He couldn't admit it. No, really, it was impossible for him to admit it: Denmark hadn't been a nuisance. In fact, he'd been a great help whenever the dragons didn't want to comply with Norway. Well, actually, it was his oversized battle axe that helped out, but whatever. He was so skilled with it that it may as well have been a part of himself. Then again, the only reason why the dragons had become so agitated was due to Mathias's loudness.
Even now, afterschool, Denmark was helping Tore clean up and feed the beasts, in the rain. Norway couldn't complain, for once.
Even the students, who were at first scared of the tall Dane, had been entranced by the amazing polearm skills that Denmark exhibited; surprised that such a seemingly clumsy idiot was so excellent at the art.
"Was I okay today, Norge?" Those bright blue eyes resembled a puppy right then, waiting for its master's praise. For once, Tore regretted all the times that he'd rejected Mathias; all Mathias ever wanted was to make him happy.
The pools of blue widened when he saw the slight grin on Norway's face. Tore leaned over to Denmark, ruffling up the already mussed hair with a seldom seen affection. "Ja, you did good." Kissing the surprised man's temple, Norway helped Mathias up from the ground where he had been pulling weeds. "Come on, let's go inside. Dinner will be ready soon."
Dagur stood before the threshold to the classroom, his hand hovering and trembling over the brass knob.
"Better to get it over with, Dag. She'll probably add more lines for every minute we're like, late."
"Yeah, I guess so…" Pulling open the door to the DADA room, Iceland's ears were met with the sound of a sweetly cruel voice.
"Oh, so nice of you two to join us."
* Think of the scene in episode 13 where Russia breaks Busby's Chair (the first time). The noise that England makes is just priceless. And his eyebrows turned, in classic anime fashion, darker.
* Think of Greg Proops' skit on how America is England's Fault. It's fucking hilarious.
AN: So, hey? Kinda screwed over my promise again, but at least it's here. Hell, if I didn't make a promise in each of the previous chapters I wouldn't be at this point. The reviews really help, though.
As to Hong Kong's accent: Yes, I have that down pat. I actually talk like that. Well, actually, I sound like a
Valley Girl sailor from Texas thanks to my overusage of 'like', cursewords, and my accent. Cuz ahm frum Texahs. (Translation: Because I am from Texas.)
Hehe, I can't resist adding the rain. It rained today, which happens once in a blue moon down here in South Texas.
Some of you are prolly wondering as to which pairings are officially in here. The list is: HKIce, USUK, DenNor, and Franada.
About the Franada: it's more of a fuck-buddy relationship. To be honest, I can only see them together in that way. Not a real serious couple.
Next chapter shall include the detention scene, a bar scene, more discrimination. But it's not set in stone. Hopefully, it'll be up by Sunday the 5th. Of February. Hopefully.
Shit, this was a long AN. Reviews and constructive criticism are wanted, and most definitely needed (because nobody's perfect).
