Star-Spangled Banter:
Alfred's POV: (1 Year Earlier)
Clenching his fists as if he could contain his rare spurt of anger, the American glared at the Commie sitting in front of him, the smug look on his violet eyes taunting him, provoking him into resorting to his own animalistic inclinations.
He's just trying to make you angry.
Alfred took a deep breath. If he gave in to his anger, if he showed his raw emotions, then that would only mean defeat. And the American wasn't about to let that happen. "So?" Alfred slapped his hands against the oak wood desk, mischief sparkling in his electric cerulean eyes as he attempted to rouse a reaction, no matter how slight, from his Russian professor. "Looks like you're not going to change my mark, huh?"
Braginski leered back at the American, that irritating childlike smile plastered on his face as he chuckled. The Russian clapped his hands together, jolly intent in mind, but to Alfred it was nothing other than menacing. Almost like how a mafia boss claps his hands, ordering his cronies to deliver the final blow to those who went against him. It was cowardly; the Russian knew that he had all the power in the situation, yet that didn't stop him from exploiting it to the fullest. Braginski leaned back into his chair, feeding off of the American's irritations as he used it to fuel his complacent rebuttal. "Mr. Jones, surely you know that the marks have already been finalized. Any last questions before I let you go?" The Russian asked with a patronizing smirk.
Knowing that his time would be better spent elsewhere, the American stood up and slapped his backpack over his shoulder. "NOPE!" Alfred bellowed in a voice that reeked with false positivity, immediately causing his stomach to lurch with disgust. That Commie bastard always had a way of getting under his skin and he always did it in a way that seemed so serene, suppressed even. It was if he was holding back his true nature, the calmness of his demeanor masking the ruthless and brutal behavior that Alfred knew lurked behind that Russian's supposedly 'naïve' composure. Every move that the Russian made was calculated, planned meticulously so that he could always be one step ahead of everyone else. To the American, it was all an act.
Alfred placed a hand on the doorknob, shoulders tensed, knowing all too well what would happen before he left. "All the best on your next semester Mr. Jones. I highly recommend that you use the services that we have available at the Student help center. It'll help with your writing, da?" Perfect. One last smug comment was all that the American needed right now. The Russian clearly enjoyed digging into the American's pride.
"Thanks 'Sir', I'll be sure to do that."
Fake smile. Turn around. Don't give the bastard the satisfaction, the American drilled into his head.
'When Alfred walked out into the hallway, only then did he choose to retaliate. "Yeah, on my dead body you Russian bastard." Feet trudging as he walked, the American whistled along to his country's national anthem, hoping to blow off some of the steam that still lingered after his heated encounter with Braginski. Alfred hardly let his anger get the best of him, but something about that guy always threw him into a frenzy. It was if the two were participating in a silent competition, their rivalry growing as the semester went on, distasteful glares reciprocated, but neither of them choosing to confront each other head on.
Who could have the best boast? Who could have the best argument? Which country had the best economic system? (Capitalism, obviously). These were the things that Alfred always argued in his papers despite the Russian's obvious left winged standing. The American stood up for what he believed in: he wasn't a blank slate that could molded and schemed into blurting out the propagandistic bullshit that streamed out of his professor's mouth. It sickened him to think that so many students had been coerced into writing papers that stroked that bastard's ego, freedom of individuality being swept away as students struggled to gain afloat on the crashing tides of academic bias. Perhaps, the American was ignorant to other mindsets, but one thing's for sure, he wasn't going to roll over and let someone forcefully change his opinion.
Realizing that he was still letting his anger get the best of him, Alfred decided to sit on one of the benches resting outside his professor's office. The American took a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself down. Alfred didn't notice the girl sitting next to him until he heard her utter a not-so-subtle cough. The American turned to meet a pair of lilac eyes, which at the moment, were currently glowering at him with a reticent look of irritation. "Excuse me, but there are plenty of other benches to sit at," she hissed.
The girl was right, there was at least another dozen or so benches lined up against the wall. Alfred, for once in his life, was short of words. The American was too dumbfounded to speak. Mesmerized by the tiny girl sitting next to him, Alfred swallowed, his eyes carefully grazing over the delicate features of her pale face. She looked exotic, but the American couldn't quite place where she came from. Long platinum blonde hair poured to reach halfway down the girl's waist, looking soft in spite of the hard glare that the doll-like girl was currently smelting him with. "Sorry about that, I won't be long…" the American's voice faltered when he heard the girl clack a black pumped heel against the ground loudly.
The Belarusian's slender fingers reached into her designer purse. The girl then pulled out a nail file. "Never mind," she muttered. The Belarusian crossed her legs and began to file at her already perfectly manicured nails. Slightly intrigued by this new mystery girl, Alfred snuck another glance at her from the corner of his eye. He supposed that she was pretty, but he couldn't shake himself from the cold aura that she encompassed herself with. It was if the girl had no emotion, her face frozen in a neutral expression as she filed away at her nails, not giving a damn about the world or the current events surrounding her.
Lips puckered into concentration, the American analyzed the girl, looking over every detail of her as he searched for something to say, hoping that he could break the awkward silence that had fallen between them. The girl reached into the pockets of her artfully ripped denim jeans and pulled out her phone. "I like your jeans," Alfred blurted out much to his own surprise and chagrin. Of all the things to say he chose to compliment her on her clothes?!
The girl turned to Alfred and raised a pale brow at him. "Don't act like you actually care," she scoffed. "Just because you're sitting next me, it doesn't mean that you're obligated to make small talk." And with that, the girl went back to filing away at her nails, acting as if nothing had happened. The Belarusian was completely impassive to the American's peaking interest.
"No, it's not like that," the American protested, clearly flustered by the brashness of this strange girl. "I really do like your jeans." Not knowing what to do, Alfred continued to ramble on, secretly despising himself for acting so impulsively. "The name's Alfred Jones, nice to meet you." Alfred held out a hand for the girl, but she didn't seem to be too keen on shaking hands with it. Instead she looked at his hand, a puzzled look forming on her face as she eyed the American with a wary look. Doubt flickered in the girl's eyes, her shoulders tensing with apprehension. The American flashed the Belarusian with an encouraging smile. "Careful," he teased. "I might bite your hand off."
The girl seemed to recoil at this comment. "Listen, I don't know who put you up to this, but this isn't some fucking joke," she seethed.
Alfred's hands snapped back to his side. "Look, I'm sorry if I did anything to piss you off, but I was only trying to be friendly," he defended.
"Natalia," she murmured.
"What?"
The girl turned to face Alfred again, her eyes carrying nothing more than a blank and remotely impartial expression. "Natalia, my name's Natalia," she repeated. The Belarusian then turned her back on the American as she was already disinterested with their conversation. But Alfred wasn't done yet. It was strange, but the American found himself captivated by those strange lilac orbs of hers. He wondered what they would look like if she smiled.
"Nice to meet you Natalia," he beamed.
Natalia didn't answer back, so Alfred went back to peaking at her whenever he was sure that she wasn't looking. But the more that he stared at her, the more perplexed that the American became. Only moments ago he had seen this girl reveal a hint of emotion, however small, before she lapsed back into a state of indifference. The oddness to her behavior boggled his mind. And as the American's curiosity grew, so did his impatience.
Who was this girl and why did she fascinate him so? And why her? Alfred had plenty of girls to his beckoning call, yet this girl, this woman stared at him, uncaring and apathetic to his charms, avoiding him as if he were the devil himself. Most girls would jump at the chance to talk him, but Natalia wasn't like that. She was different and as frustrating as it was for him to figure out why, the American found himself ogling at the girl, a bewildered expression forming on his face as he tried, unsuccessfully, to maintain a composed look.
"Oh Natalia, were you waiting for me?" Alfred's head snapped to the side when he heard a chilling, yet all too familiar voice. With a irritatingly jolly step to his walk, Braginski strolled over to the bench that the American and Belarusian were sitting at. The Russian smirked when he took notice to the scowling American sitting before him. "Ah, Mr. Jones, perhaps you forgot to ask me a question, da?"
The American watched, unnerved, as he saw Natalia's face light up with excitement, her lips curling into the first genuine smile that he had ever seen her make. The Belarusian's eyes gleamed with adoration. A feral growl resonated deep within the American's throat.
Why could Braginski of all people make her smile?
"Brother!" Natalia squealed. The Belarusian stood up and immediately latched herself onto the Russian's arm.
So she's his brother, Alfred deadpanned.
"Sis please," the Russian pleaded with his unprecedentedly ecstatic sister. "People are going to get the wrong idea," he whispered in Russian.
"Fine," she pouted.
"Do you know Mr. Jones, Natalia?"
"Oh no. He was just sitting here," the Belarusian remarked in an offhand voice. Alfred felt as if he had just been stabbed him in the chest. Suffocated by feelings of disappointment, the American watched, helplessly, as Natalia walked off with Braginski, looking happier than he had ever seen her before.
Jealousy clouded over Alfred's vision, his hands balling into tight fists and his nails digging into his skin carelessly as the image of Natalia's dainty smile played over and over in his head, burning through his defenses and attacking his self-pride with a ruthless vigor. The girl had grounded him, stripped him of his confidence, and for once in his life, Alfred was now the one to do the chasing. Whether it was to satisfy his ego or to answer his raging curiosity, or perhaps even for both of those reasons, the American now knew what he had to do. "Oh Natalia," he chuckled to himself. "No girl is immune to a hero's charms."
~It was on this day that the American vowed to make the Belarusian smile. ~
Alfred's POV:
Two weeks had passed since Alfred had last seen that strange lilac-eyed women.
Natalia Braginski.
That name seemed to have ingrained itself inside Alfred's head, lurking around his waking thoughts and taunting him with the void of information that he had yet to fill. Alfred yearned to learn more about the Belarusian. The American's curiosity had reached levels so unbearable that his heart fluttered with angst. Questions about this woman nagged at the back of his mind, stirring him into a frenzied state of helpless frustration.
Something about this girl clicked in the American's head, evoking a sense of familiarity and longing that he could never seem to satisfy. Alfred was smitten with this girl and desperately so. The American vied for answers and he had searched all over campus for any trace of the stoic Belarusian.
Thankfully, his search hadn't come up empty. The American had managed to find a few things about Natalia, but only in a humble, hero-like way. He didn't stalk her on Facebook or anything. Alfred had asked a few people about her, and much to the American's initial surprise, Natalia was actually a well known figure through out the campus. The responses that Alfred received, however, were quite mixed. As if the girl was torn away from the herds and raised to her own pin point, boys would go out of their way to avoid Natalia, their eyes practically bulging out of their sockets whenever Alfred mentioned her name to them.
"Are you crazy?!"
"She's Braginski's Sister!"
"Dude, you're signing your own death wish!"
But Alfred didn't heed any attention to their warnings. The American hungered for knowledge about this girl and so he continued on with his quest, pestering any willing person to tell him what they knew about the Belarusian. Alfred had managed to find out simple things about Natalia. Facts about how she was the same age as him. Or that she was majoring in Political Science. Alfred also had also learned that she had an acute interest in darts. But this wasn't what Alfred was looking for. He was looking for the deeper secrets. The one's that revealed the enigmas riddled within the taut Belarusian girl. The one's that ruthlessly teased the American as he remained stuck in an ignorant stupor.
It was out of pure luck that the American spotted the Belarusian studying in the Britannia library. Shoulders hunched and long sleek hair covering her face as she studied, Natalia immersed herself in a textbook. Slender hands scribbled onto her notebook as she flipped from page to page, her eyebrows furrowed into concentration. The Belarusian's attention was completely oblivious to the world around her.
Alfred watched Natalia study like this for minutes on end, carefully peaking at her through the protective encasing of a bookshelf. The serene expression etched on the Belarusian's face made the American's stomach flip with a sense of uneasiness. Call it one of his bad habits, but the American had a tendency to act impulsively. It took every ounce of his will power not to disrupt the girl, so in order to distract himself, Alfred decided to pull out a random book from the bookshelf.
As if he was in a corny romance story, the Hero struck out.
With a loud crash, a pile of books tumbled to the floor. Alfred had the pleasure of gracing his face with one of them. Searching for his now missing glasses, the American pawed at the floor. Alfred's search came up empty. A terrifying thought surfaced in his mind: what if Natalia saw him like this? She wasn't that far away, so surely she must have heard something. This only made the American more frantic as he patted the ground, sweat dripping off of his brow as he tried to contain the panic that ballooned in his chest.
"Hello?" A horrified expression crossed over Alfred's face. A blurry figure was approaching towards him. "Mr. Jones?" the person spoke again.
"Er, Hello," the American laughed nervously. Damn from this angle, the figure sort of looked like Natalia. If he squinted his eyes, he could make out a thinly framed figure and long blonde hair: Yup. This was definitely the Belarusian girl that he had sought after. Too bad he probably looked like a gawking idiot just about now.
"What are you doing?" she asked in what Alfred pegged to be an amused tone.
"Ah, nothing. Just checking the carpet to see if there were any stains!" the American lied as he held up his massive hands for the girl to see. "All clear!"
Natalia didn't believe his ruse for a second. "Didn't you wear glasses before?"
"Aww! But a Hero always likes a challenge."
Play dumb. Play Dumb.
"Or you're just too much of a dumbass to ask for help," she mused. Alfred felt something tap against his hands. "Here, wouldn't want you to trip over your own ass." Although Alfred couldn't see her face, he could tell by the tone of her voice that the girl was smirking. Alfred reluctantly took his glasses from her. Fixing his glasses onto his face, the American beamed at the Belarusian girl. He couldn't help it. Perhaps it was the bright light of the library, or maybe his vision was still a little hazy as his eyes readjusted, but something about that girl always seemed to leave him in a state of entrancement. Whatever it was, the American had found himself ensnared in a trap, lured in by both the secrets and grace that this woman held herself with. It was absolutely maddening.
All Heroes express their gratitude.
Alfred looked up to thank the Belarusian. "Thank y-!…Oh she's gone." Yeah, sometimes that happened. The American frequently let his imagination get the best of him, which usually resulted in some pretty kick ass day dreams. Ones where he imagined saving the day, a moronic grin plastered on his face as he basked in the divine feeling of victory. Bathing in the valiant glory of restoring justice upon the world. The Hero, with his all mighty strength, defeats the dark tendrils of Communism, bringing freedom and prosperity to the people. They chant his name over and over again, grateful tears streaming down their cheeks as they vie for their saviors attention. They want nothing more than to touch him, to rid themselves from the plagued roots of authoritarianism. To free themselves from the horrendous terrors of political oppression and enslavement...
"Alfred!" "Alfred!" Alfred!"
"MR. JONES?!"
Oh. He was daydreaming again, wasn't he?
"Fuck! What!?" a flustered Alfred stammered. The American attempted to gain his bearings before he dared say anything more.
Library. Natalia. Floor. Books.
Alfred's brain spluttered, slow and steady as the engine turned on, gears whirring as he realized his unfortunate predicament. The American winced when he remembered how he had sworn at her. And what a fatal mistake that was.
Natalia hovered over Alfred. Glowering down at the American, the Belarusian clutched onto a single book in her hand. "Listen up you ignorant fool. Normally when people try to help you, you thank them." The Belarusian growled as she released the book from her grip. Natalia looked more than pleased when she watched the book crack on top of the American's head.
Letting out an unmanly yelp, the American was floored with one fell swoop. Dazed and wide cerulean eyes looked up to the raging lilac eyes resting before them. The Belarusian's lips curled into a bared snarl. Her eyes sparkled with malice, but Alfred found himself turned on by the girl's sudden animation. The American smirked at the foreign goddess standing before him. He was amused and perhaps even a bit aroused by the emotional reaction that he had managed to get out of her. Alfred's chest soared over the fact that all of this emotion was directed towards him and him only. "Why hello angel," he purred.
Perhaps he was still a bit dizzy from having a book thrown onto his head.
"What the fuck? I didn't hit you that hard. I made sure not to strike anything vital," Natalia's brows furrowed into a frown. "Oh. But maybe I dented his skull. Hmmmmm," the Belarusian muttered to herself.
"My skull's fine darling," the American slurred.
In an instant, Alfred was thrown onto his feet. The Belarusian's nails dug into the thick leather of his jacket as she dragged him around the bookcase and towards her study table.
"I'm not about to have a law suit on my hands," Natalia snarled as she practically threw the American into a chair. "Now sit," she demanded as if he hadn't already been forced to do that very action. Alfred sat with a giddy expression on his face. The Belarusian eyed the American, her lips puckered into a concentrated grimace as she inspected him from head to toe. "Come here," the American drawled. Alfred beckoned for Natalia to sit closer to him.
Ignoring his comment, Natalia raised one hand in front of the American, her fingers forming the peace sign as she glared at the ditsy boy sitting in front of her. "How many fingers?" she demanded. When Alfred didn't respond, Natalia waved a hand in front of his face. The American's eyes slowly lolled from side to side.
Natalia cursed under her breath. "Fuck," she mumbled.
Alfred pouted. "You're too hard on yourself," he whined.
"Mr. Jones?"
Alfred yawned. "Call me Alfred."
Natalia placed both hands on her hips. "Ok, 'Alfred', how are feeling?"
Alfred stared at the Belarusian and smiled. "You're beautiful you know that?" he remarked.
"OH FUCK I REALLY BROKE HIM," the Belarusian despaired. Natalia began to pace back and forth, her eyes wild and her pale blonde hair whipping behind her as she stirred herself into a hysteric frenzy.
"I'm not broken," Alfred protested. The Belarusian paid him no attention.
Alfred's eyelids became heavy. He was just a bit sleepy. The American's shoulders slouched and his eyelids began to droop. His vision was failing him. The blissful feeling of relaxation started to over come his body. Alfred was helpless as the Belarusian slowly faded away from his line of sight.
"ALFRED?!"
"Whaaaaaaat?"
"Snap out of it!"
Oh.
"Huh?" the American shook his head and sat up, blinking at the bright ceiling lights that glared into his face. Come to think of it, the wooziness that he had felt before was beginning to ware off. The only thing that he felt right now was a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Alfred chuckled. The American placed a hand at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing out of embarrassment. "Sorry about that." The Belarusian waved off his comment with an indignant huff.
Natalia sat down across the table from Alfred. The worry that she had shown before had disappeared from her facial expression entirely. The Belarusian's brows furrowed into its residual arch as she began to flip through her textbook again. The American gawked at the Belarusian. He was fixated by the way in which the light bounced off her pale hair. Alfred watched as the Belarusian's fingers delicately grazed over the pages that she diligently continued to flip through. A faint look of captivation peaked on her face whenever she came across something that she deemed to be interesting. Enraptured in his observation of her, the American hummed under his breath. Alfred wasn't aware of the girl's irritated sighs. The Belarusian's pencil snapped with each time that the American increased his humming volume.
Eventually, Alfred's ignorance became too much for Natalia to handle. "CAN you stop with that humming already?" she hissed.
"Sorry," Alfred apologized. "I didn't realize."
Natalia made a shooing motion at Alfred. "You can go now. You seem fine." The American stifled a scowl. He would not be dismissed that easily. Hell no.
"And what if I want to stay?"
Alfred watched as the girl's face flickered with hesitation, her eyes peering at the American, analyzing him as if she were searching for cracks in his appearance. The Belarusian was looking for something that would justify her dislike of him. Eyebrows raised in a skeptical manner, Natalia let out an incredulous snort. "Nice one jackass. What's next? Are you going to ask me for my hand in marriage?"
Although the girl had played this off as a crude joke, Alfred couldn't help but notice the small look of hurt that lurked behind the Belarusian's seemingly nonchalant expression. He would have been fooled too if it hadn't been for her eyes. Behind the Belarusian's sly smile, however brief that it had appeared, lay doubt, and with doubt came mistrust. Deep down, this girl had been hurt, and judging by how apprehensive she acted towards strangers, the Belarusian had yet to recover from such a betrayal.
"I'm not joking Natalia. I really would like to be your friend."
Alfred's eyes went wide. There it was again. No matter how brief it was, the girl's eyes glinted with hope, only to be replaced by that same hard defensive expression that she always fell back on. Natalia grit her teeth. She let her anger encase her. She was sparing herself from feeling the pain of other emotions.
"Just leave. I'm giving you ten seconds," the Belarusian warned, but she wasn't fooling the American anytime soon. She was testing him, watching to see if he would leave. She already had the preconceived notion that he would overlook her. That he would deem her to be unworthy of his time.
"A Hero never gives up."
Looking Natalia straight in the eye, Alfred slapped his hands against the table. The American was angry over the fact that she had negated her self-worth so easily. He hated how she brushed herself off as if she hadn't even mattered. She mattered damnit. It was about time that she knew that. "And I'll give you ten reasons why I want to stay with you," he growled back. "1. You're smart. 2. You're independent. 3. You're beaut–"
"Just shut up!" she raged. "You can stay but for the love of God, just cut it with that sappy romance crap!"
Alfred winked at the flustered Belarusian. "Who said anything about Romance?"
Natalia's eyes flashed with a murderous glint. "Call 911."
"Why?"
"I've got an appointment."
"With what?"
"THE OTHER HALF OF YOUR SKULL."
~Text Messaging: Present Day ~
Alfred: Hey Nat :D
Alfred: ):
Alfred: How come you never answer meeeee?
Alfred: Hey guess what?
Natalia: How tf did you get my number?
Alfred: I'm not telling you ;)
Natalia: W.e stop texting me, I'm in class.
Alfred: And if I don't?
Natalia: You know that flag pole outside of the Gaul building?
Alfred: Yeah...why?
Natalia: Consider that your new home.
Alfred: What?
Natalia: Well since you American's love to 'hang around'...
Alfred: NAT! So violent ):
Natalia: You still owe me for that dart board. Asshole.
Alfred: I promised that I would get you a new one didn't I?
Natalia. Fine. Whatever.
Alfred: Is there anything else that I can do for you?
Alfred: Nat?
Natalia: Maybe…
Alfred: Tell me!
Natalia: I have dorm watch tonight and I wanted to go to the video store…
Alfred: Annnnnd?
Natalia: I wanted to rent a horror movie…
Alfred: DONE :D
Alfred: Which one?
Natalia: Sinister, I think.
Alfred: OHHHHH! That one's scary!
Natalia: Wimpy ass American.
Alfred: Hey! I was just kidding ;)
Alfred: A hero never gets scared!
Natalia: I beg to differ.
Natalia: Arthur told me that you dusted your entire house with salt after seeing Paranormal Activity 3.
Alfred: ALL LIES I TELL YOU!
Alfred: How about we have a little wager?
Natalia: I'm listening.
Alfred: I'll watch the movie with you and if I don't get scared, you have to go out on a date with me.
Natalia: You're implying that I want to spend time with you.
Alfred: I'm not done. If I lose you can get something out of it too.
Natalia: Like what?
Alfred: That's up to you Nat :D
Natalia: Fine, you get to be my slave for the week.
Alfred: ;)
Natalia: ?
Alfred: Oh Nat, so Innocent ;)
Natalia: I don't get it.
Alfred: Oh you'll find out soon enough ;)