How is a raven like a writing desk? Believe it or not, there is an answer. XD Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! If I survive my family, I'll be sure to update soon! Me-plus-my grandpa's cozy cabin-equals lots of writing getting done. Knowing that loveable area situated in the middle of the middle of nowhere, I'll likely have this fic finished by the time I come back home. :'D

Fun fact: Tale of the Genji was supposedly the first novel ever written down. Some woman in Japan wrote it. I wouldn't recommend reading it, because the first three sentences nearly left in rocking in the fetal position murmuring about proper, understandable grammar.

ForTheGloryOfSparta- Here's your moment. Sorry I sort of warped it and didn't make Arthur answer, but it just eased so well into this part….

Chapter 21-

"Hey, Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"No."

Alfred was slightly taken aback. "Uh… 'no' to me asking you a question, or are you being a jerk and saying 'no' to what I was going to ask?"

Arthur didn't even look up from his book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, which he had read well over ten times; to say simply "Both." With that said, he calmly turned to the next page, skimming over the words of his tattered book. "And if you call me a 'jerk' again, I'm grounding you from video games for a week. That includes going to Red Flower to play Final Fantasy with Kiku in the back room."

Now Alfred really wanted to call him a jerk. Final Fantasy X had just come out, and he and Kiku were taking turns playing it so they could defeat Sin and bring the Calm to Spira! This was a matter of life and death, here! Why couldn't Arthur see that they were being kick-butt awesome heroes playing as Tidus? Where was the justice?

With a pout, Alfred stubbornly crossed his arms. "Come on, at least hear me out. This is actually important."

Arthur's eyes flickered up from his book. "Make it quick. I'm at the part where the Mad Hatter and the Mouse are asking Alice about the riddle."

"Wait a minute," Alfred backtracked, "what riddle?"

With a sigh, Arthur quoted, "'Why is a raven like a writing desk?'"

This obviously was beyond Alfred's comprehension. Momentarily forgetting the oh-so very important question for his father, Alfred pondered how exactly one could compare a bird to a piece of furniture. Finally, begrudgingly, Alfred admitted, "I don't know. How is a raven like a writing desk?"

Arthur's answer came quickly, without any thought whatsoever. "Edgar Allen Poe wrote on each of them- that meaning, Alfred, he wrote the famous story entitled 'The Raven' and did his work atop a writing desk."

Alfred's mouth was agape. "Seriously? But I thought that Louis Carol was, like, five hundred years before Edgar Allen Poe!"

"What?" Arthur burst. "No! Edgar Allen Poe was writer in the early 1800's and Louis Carol published Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in 1865, over twenty years after Poe died."

"How can you read that stuff, anyway? My brain nearly imploded when we had to read Romeo and Juliet earlier this year."

"Haven't read Tale of the Genji, then, have you?"

Alfred shook his head with a sigh. He flumped down on the couch beside Arthur, gnawing at his lip. This, Arthur had learned over the years, meant he was truly thinking of a serious matter. That, or pondering what was for dinner. "What were you meaning to ask me, Alfred?" Arthur asked, saving his place with a nearby pen.

He snapped his fingers. "Right. Almost forgot. Remember when we visited Lili and the receptionist lady said she remembered you running two miles through traffic to get to the hospital and then you passed out like a pansy? Yeah, what was that about?"

Arthur exhaled the breath he'd be been holding. If Alfred had asked about Samantha, he swore he would have died right then and there. Why did that woman have to keep popping up all of a sudden? She was supposed to be gone- Arthur was never supposed to see her again! What was she doing in Heta, anyway? Last time Arthur had seen Samantha prior to this mess was at a courthouse in The-Middle-of-Nowhere (aka Marlington, Virginia).

Although Arthur wasn't sure he liked this question any more. A bright red flared up on his cheeks. "Sh-she was obviously mistaking me for someone else," he stuttered, quickly picking his book back up and sticking his nose in it. "Haha! Listen to him, Alice! 'Why, you might just as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"

"Don't quote Louis Allen Carol Poe to me!" Alfred burst indignantly. "Stop dodging the question. Where were on the night of whenever you passed out like pansy?"

"…Marlington Hospital. Ah! I think I just heard the dishwasher kick off. I've got to put up the-" He was quickly silenced by Alfred snatching up his book, allowing him no time to mark his place. "Alfred!"

The boy frowned. "Stop changing the subject on me! I'm really sick of being ignored like this! Give me a straight answer for once!"

"I don't have to do anything of the sort," Arthur said, grabbing his book back. "Go to your room."

"No!" Alfred jumped up. "It's not like I'm asking who 'Sam' is or why you're so prissy about him! Tell me!"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

Arthur's shout echoed through the suddenly still apartment. Alfred waited for someone to burst in, freaking out and demanding to know what happened. But then he remembered nearly everyone on their floor was gone: Antonio and the boys were right now passing through New York as they argued. Tino and his brothers were out Christmas shopping (apparently Tino liked to spend his December thinking of nothing but his favorite holiday). Matthew and Francis had actually gone out to eat some place nice for whatever reason (read: Francis had met a nice girl and was dragging Matthew along so he could drop him off at the mall for a few hours), and Alice and Lars were with some of Lars's friends for the most epic snowball fight of the century. Alfred had wanted to go, but Arthur had said he had had enough of the snow for now.

With no one around, this also meant Alfred could blow up at him. "NO! I WON'T GO TO MY ROOM!"

Arthur flinched back in shock. Since when did…?

"Why don't you ever talk to me anymore? All you ever do is yell!" Alfred burst, throwing his hands up. Arthur suddenly noticed how big he was. Alfred was a good two or three inches taller than him, and he was barely fourteen. "I'm tired of it, Dad! Tired of it! You don't yell at Matthew! Do you like him better than me, or something? Because he's quieter, and helps you clean, and apparently isn't a nuisance to you? You know why I never hang around home anymore? It's because I hate you!"

I hate you!

The sound of the door to the hallway slamming didn't even register in his mind. Nor did Tino's worried chirp outside- the boy must have just returned from the mall. He didn't even move to answer the door when Abel knocked on the door, asking if everything was alright.

It's because I hate you!

You stupid man! I hate you, Arthur!

Arthur sat back down on the couch. His book forgotten in the floor beside him, he dropped his face in his hands.

He looks just like you.

Alfred was truly his mother's son. Arthur hated himself being so right.

((((()))))

Alfred was not crying. The cold air was merely stinging his eyes, and the wind was making them tear. He wasn't thinking when he grabbed his bike, unchained it from the wrack outside the complex, and took off through the snow. It was too far to the mall on the outskirts of the town, so he settled for something closer: the coffee shop behind the school. He hadn't bothered to bring any money, this being a split-second decision, but figured Tavian would at least let him hang out with him for a while.

So he peddled as hard as he could, glad he had been wearing his famous bomber jacket during their fallout. He was still cold- especially his hands, because he hadn't worn gloves- but anger heated him well enough. Down the street was nothing to him, even with the cold and snow. Alfred passed Ludwig's house, seeing him and Frederick busy shoveling their driveway. They didn't notice him, laughing like a father and son that actually liked each other.

The wind was really getting to his eyes.

He wasn't even out of breath when he stopped at the coffee shop. As usual, it was nearly empty. No one ever went to the shop but high schoolers, and only after school. It didn't make much sense to Alfred as to why Tavian even bothered to work when no one was there, but he figured it would be nice to get paid for doing nothing, too. However, the shop wasn't completely empty, as he had hoped. A blonde kid his age and a woman sat off in the corner, smiling and talking about something amiably. Tavian had his nose stuck in a Stephen King novel, mirthlessly smirked at the contents before him. None of them noticed as he walked in.

Alfred took a seat in the corner, rubbing his hands together. They were blue from his short ride, and he could absently hear Arthur chiding him for going out into the cold without the proper attire. He hadn't worn a scarf either, so his ears were cold too.

He rummaged through his pockets in search of cash. He really needed a coffee. A nice hot mocha with cream and sugar. That would definitely make him feel better. Then, he was going to call Francis and see if he'd come and pick him up after his dinner with Ms. Pathetic-For-Falling-For-Francis's-Charm.

There were a few dollars and various coins, so Alfred figured he could skip on the cream and just get a plain mocha. He didn't usually like it without the delicious cream, but anything was better than being cold. "Hey, Tavian, dude? Can you get me a 32 ounce mocha?"

The brunette's head snapped up. "Whoa! Didn't see you come in. Sure."

"Thanks."

As he fixed up the drink, Alfred leaned on the counter and looked at the woman. She had stunning blue eyes- almost like his, actually. Her hair was a beautiful chestnut brown and she wore a scarf that had to have been hand-knitted. The boy in front of her was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't pinpoint a name.

"Here you go. Hey, are you alright?"

Crap. I forgot to check my eyes!

Alfred put on a bright smile. "Yep! Just freezing. It's gotta be, like, ten degrees out there, man."

Tavian raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing out here this fine Saturday? I thought for sure Mr. Football Player would be doing something with Matthew or Ludwig."

Do you have to ask me this stuff?

Luckily, the pretty lady saved him from coming up with a plausible lie. She walked up to the counter with a smile still on her face. "Get me a hot chocolate to go, Tavian. It's about time for me to go on my shift."

"You found work?" Tavian asked. "Great!"

"I'm cleaning out animal crap at PetsMart. I hardly call that 'great'."

Alfred snorted in laughter. The woman turned to him as if suddenly noticing he was also present. Alfred composed himself with a cough and turned away from her before she could see his face. The last he needed was to get yelled at by a stranger. He could just see her rolling her eyes. "Well, I guess I'll see you guys later. Bye, Tavian, Feliks."

He nodded after her. "Bye, Samantha."

Alfred's head snapped up. "Samantha…? Sam?" He turned around to call out to her, but she was already pushing the door open, welcoming the cold air into the coffee shop. He watched her fleeting image chug down her no-doubt piping hot chocolate, toss the cup in a trash bin outside, and stubbornly stuff her gloved hands in her pockets before walking off.

Whoever this Samantha was, she definitely made Alfred feel better, knowing she was just as crazy as he was.

((((()))))

Ivan woke up to the sun in his face.

He thought for a moment that he was back in his bed, and his alarm clock had failed to wake him up. It wouldn't be the first time- that ancient, decrepit thing frequently flickered off spontaneously. He had asked for a new one, but Morozko said that as long as it was working most of the time, it could be used a little longer.

But he suddenly realized that he never left his curtains open at night, so thus he wouldn't have had the sun shining on his face. Second, he never remembered his bedroom smelling so strongly of alcohol. Third, he was laying down in the backseat of a cold car, Morozko in the front seat snoring. Ivan sat up and looked outside. They were haphazardly parked in front of a still-closed pizza place. A sign on the front of it said they opened at noon.

He tried both doors in the backseat, but they were both locked. The front doors were not, but he would never be able to climb up to the front and escape without waking Morozko. Ivan bit his lip, fear gripping his heart at the situation he was in. Where were they, anyway? When had he fallen asleep, and how far had they driven away from Heta?

Was Natalya alright? His mother? Katyusha?

Ivan was so utterly alone. He almost considered crying, but that would serve no purpose but to wake Morozko. There was no telling what his father would do.

Maybe… maybe he would wake up and forget everything that had happened last night. He would beg Ivan's forgiveness and take them back home. He'd stop drinking to prevent something like this ever happening again, and, for once, they'd be a decent family.

And maybe Ivan was hoping for the impossible.

Sleeping in the harsh cold had made his body stiff. He was thirsty and hungry, too. There wasn't any food in the car, but there was plenty to drink. Ivan eyed an unopened case of Heineken in the floor. Then, he frowned and redirected his attention outside. He would rather dehydrate than ever taste that foul stuff.

Morozko shifted in his sleep, making Ivan's eyes dart back to him. The dark-haired man's eyes blinked open. He released a groan and covered his eyes with his arm. "Ye nenavideyu pokhmelya," he grumbled.

He turned to blearily look at Ivan. "Horosho. You didn't run off. We're about fifty miles out of Heta. We're going to drive until I run out of vodka. There's some beer back there if you're thirsty."

"I'm not going to drink that mess," Ivan said.

Morozko rolled his eyes. "You will before the day's over. I'm not stopping anywhere any time soon. You'd best drink it and acquire a taste now."

"I'm underage, Father!"

"So?"

They stared into each other's eyes a moment before Morozko turned back with a grunt and started the car. They started off again, this time Ivan closer to frustrated tears than ever before. He would not fall into the hole his father had dug himself into. He would turn into a drunk like him. He would not go home to see his sisters with the smell of vodka on him.

…But he was really thirsty.

((((()))))

Two Weeks Later

"I WAS NOT BACKTALKING YOU!"

"STOP YELLING AT ME, ALFRED!"

Matthew frowned at the wall that separated his apartment from Alfred's. It seemed the father and son were at it again. With a sigh, Matthew mentally counted to three. Alfred swung open the door, not even bothering to ask to come in. He stomped over and sat down beside Matthew, face stony and eyes glaring at anything that dared enter his vision. Matthew merely held out the blanket he was currently curled under for Alfred to snuggle in too.

They sat there in silence a moment, watching some cooking show neither were truly interested in. Matthew had turned it on in hopes of ignoring the pressing thoughts on his mind. Francis had ran off again to spend time with his lady friend- Therese Louna. She was a beautiful woman hailing from Seychelles, from what Matthew had heard, and had a daughter a year younger than him named Michelle. Matthew hadn't met her, but everything he had heard about her seemed nice, too.

Alfred didn't open his mouth to complain about how horrible Arthur was this fine afternoon, so Matthew safely assumed this particular argument had really bothered him. Quietly, the blonde went into the kitchen and fixed up two mugs of hot chocolate. Alfred took in with a whispered "Thanks, Mattie" before drifting back into silence.

It just made Matthew angry. Everything did, at this point: Alfred and Arthur being idiots, Arthur wanting to move to keep away from this "Samantha" person, and Lovino moping around because Feliciano was back in Massachusetts. And it didn't help that Francis left him more frequently to see Therese. Matthew hadn't even seen her yet! How was he supposed to know if she was really as nice and lovely as Francis said she was- if Francis wasn't getting in over his head for someone who didn't appreciate him the way he appreciated her.

The last thing Matthew wanted was to have Francis slugging around with a frown etched into his face to accent Alfred and Arthur's hourly arguments and Lovino's little brother withdrawl depression. Even Alice had been under the weather with a cold that simply refused to go away. She had gotten it two weeks ago from her and Lars's amazing snowball fight. They had talked about how awesome it was for a good two days, all the while sounding just like Gilbert.

At least Tino was happy out of their sour bunch.

The blonde Vainamoinen had been singing Christmas carols nonstop for weeks now. He practically skipped to wherever he was headed, and had hoarded himself up in his apartment with Berwald to wrap Christmas presents for practically everyone he knew. Matthew didn't find it annoying like Alfred or Lovino. He was glad he had so much Christmas spirit about him, and desperately wished some of it would rub off on everyone else, too.

There were eleven days until Christmas. They should all be excited and counting down the days!

Matthew felt like a little kid again every time he thought of Christmas. He remembered back to the days when he and Alfred were still young enough to demand toys for Christmas. One year, Arthur had hand-made a set of toy soldiers for Alfred. He had played with them for years after that, wearing off the painted faces and chipping the aging wood. Matthew, that same year, had gotten three cookbooks and another teddy bear to "keep Mr. Whoever company". Matthew was still using the cookbooks, but had only played with the second bear maybe two days before giving it to Lovino. He didn't want it either, so he gave it to Alice. She supposedly still had it somewhere, but liked to mention it all the time to make Lovino's cheeks flared red.

Those were truly the best days ever- even if they were still recovering from that awful August. Christmas had made them forget about that for at least a little while, and the day had been absolutely perfect. No fighting, no crying- well, not necessarily, because Lovino absolutely bawled after Alice kissed him under a strand of mistletoe Francis had procured. The Italian had a special set of curses to unleash upon whoever brought up that incident.

Matthew smiled fondly at the memories, despite himself. Things weren't as great as back then, but Matthew was determined not to let the "now" get him down.

"I can't wait for Christmas, Al."

Translations-

Russian-

Ye nenavideyu pokhmelya- I hate hangovers

Horosho- good