Once again, I'm sorry for the 2 weeks in between chapters, but in between the last update and now, I've updated my Medieval!FrUK fic, posted a really long FrUK oneshot, and converted a GerIta RP into an 8-chapter-long fic, which I also posted. So it's not like I've been doing nothing fanfiction-related.

Just as a warning, there's quite a bit of LietPol, PruHun, and FrUK in this chapter. Enjoy~

Doug Winter tapped his fingers irritably on the steering wheel of his car as he drove. He had left the school that the second soccer match that week had been at about a half an hour ago, so they were almost home and currently driving through neighborhoods rather than major roads.

His brow furrowed and his lips pursed, he let out a sigh and finally turned around briefly to look at his three adopted children, who were all silent for the moment. Ivan was simply looking out the window with a faint smile on his face, Natalya was leaning into him and hugging one of his arms, and Yekaterina was looking around aimlessly in her apparent boredom.

"Look, Ivan," he started, trying to use the authoritative tone he would usually use with students—it was as close to parent-ish as he could get. "I don't know how soccer works in Russia, but I hope you realize that kicking people in the face isn't okay. Because you didn't seem very deterred by that red card, and…" He trailed off, not wanting to say out loud how Ivan was kind of a disturbing kid.

"But ve von," said Ivan innocently, genuinely unaware that there was more than that to it.

"And shouldn't you?" Natalya butted in, tightening her grip on her brother's arm.

"Hm?" Winter frowned again and glanced at her through the rear-view mirror.

Natalya narrowed her eyes and deepened the frown she already had. "Shouldn't you know how soccer is in Russia? You are Vorld Geography teacher, da? So you should be knowing these things." Her voice was as cold as her eyes, and she could tell that Winter was somewhat intimidated by her obvious lack of respect for him. She still didn't view him at all as a father figure, and nothing had made her like him anymore than she had the day he'd picked them up from the orphanage.

"Well—knowing the world doesn't mean I know all sorts of random trivia…," he argued, trying to keep his focus on the road even in his sudden frustration. "And besides, it's an expression. I'm sure the rules concerning violence in soccer are the same in Russia. The point is, Ivan… just, don't do it again," he finished in a huff. There had already been so much he had needed to give them talks about…. Except for Yekaterina. She never came home and told him she had to have detention or that it was suggested she go to the school counselor…. No, she was pretty good in terms of behavior.

Not that he ever considered the notion that he would take them back to Russia. Winter realized his limits, and he knew these kids were more than he'd expected them to be, but he would just have to learn how to accommodate them and all of their personality disorders. They had spent their entire life in an orphanage; they needed a home. And he'd always wanted kids of him own. So it was good for all of them, even if it didn't quite seem so just yet.

Ivan gave a small nod and kept smiling out the window, very proud of himself and the rest of the team for winning this one. Their first game being a loss had been frustrating and kind of sad for everyone—he remembered Arthur, that kid with the huge eyebrows, kicking a wall after the game had ended, and Mathias had literally lied down on the ground on his stomach with his face in the grass and just stayed like that for a few minutes. This match had been close as well, but they had still won.

Coach Roma had said something about taking them out for ice-cream in celebration, but then most of the team had agreed that it was a school night and a lot of people had homework they needed to do, and then of course there was the game they had tomorrow, which would be the last game of the week and thus the end of the start-of-game tournaments. Eating ice-cream the day before wouldn't have been the best idea.

That wasn't going to stop Ivan from getting the two-liter bottle of soda in the fridge at home and pouring it in a glass and then putting vodka in it, though. He wanted to celebrate, even if it had to be alone—he didn't even care if Natalya wanted to stay close to him in her own little celebration. He was just too happy to have done something as a team and succeeded.

When they got home, the three kids said nothing to Winter (who just sighed and went to the kitchen to make dinner) and went off to their own rooms. Natalya, to Ivan's surprise, even let go of him and didn't seem particularly reluctant to do so as she went to her room and closed the door. He felt a tiny pang of disappointment, as he really would have liked any company tonight, but he brushed it off and supposed she was in one of her weird moods. Natalya tended to switch from being very manic and clingy to being quiet and a completely different person sometimes… and he didn't know why.

Ivan flopped down on his bed and kicked off his shoes, staring up at the ceiling. He figured he should probably change out of his soccer clothes, but he was too lazy to at the moment. Instead, he just continued to stare and think vaguely about his friends. It had been nice, so far, having all these new friends…. But something somehow felt off.

Still, he kept his almost constant smile, and he rolled over a little to reach for his bag and take out his phone. Winter had gotten each of them phones during the summer, as most teenagers in America owned one and he hadn't wanted them to be the odd ones out. Ivan put one hand behind his head as he lay back down and scrolled through his contacts…. So far, he just had Toris, Eduard, and his sisters (Raivis didn't have a phone). He considered texting Toris to talk with him about the game, but before he could act on any such decision, there was a knock on his door.

He was suddenly apathetic as to who was on the other side, and he didn't hesitate at all to say, "Come in!"

Yekaterina opened the door and stepped into his room, not expecting to find Ivan lying on his bed. But she didn't think much of it, either.

"Hey, I vanted to ask you something," she said, holding onto the door with one hand and keeping it open for the moment being.

"Da?" Ivan pushed himself up to a sitting position and raised a curious eyebrow at her, at which she closed the door and went to sit on the edge of his bed.

"Vell… okay," she started nervously, not sure how to word this and suddenly forgetting what she'd planned out in her head—but then she just forced herself to keep talking. "You know that guy, Toris, who you made friends vith?"

Frowning slightly, Ivan just nodded, wondering what Yekaterina could have to say about him.

"Yes, vell, I vos vondering if you could, um… give him back. To his friend, Feliks. Who is also my friend. I just—I think—" She suddenly found herself getting almost close to tears—not because she was scared, but because she didn't want to hurt her little brother's feelings. He didn't look like he was getting upset just yet, but it was still hard for her to finish. "I think that's a little unfair—you don't haff to stop being friends vith Toris, but it vood be nice to let Feliks hang out vith him again."

And then she looked at him brightly for a few seconds, hopeful that he would at least do this for her, if not for anyone else. She knew Ivan was fond of her, after all….

"Um… nyet," said Ivan after a moment in which he only pretended to consider it, smiling with his answer. "You don't know whole story, Yekaterina—I vun Toris fair and square. But it's fine Feliks didn't tell you…. I vos not thinking that he vood. But no, Toris is mine now, so I don't vant to give him back."

With that, Ivan just smiled at her politely, as though that were a perfectly normal answer and he was expecting her to take it normally. It didn't cross his mind that this might make her upset, or that she would even want to argue with him at all.

And she did, but she didn't say anything. Because she really couldn't say anything. Yekaterina wouldn't have necessarily found it scary as she would have found it awkward to keep going and trying to convince Ivan to do what she asked—especially since she figured that would be impossible. Ivan's mind was rarely swayed by anything.

"Oh, okay," she said half-heartedly, a small, ironic laugh in her voice. "Never the minding, then."

It vaguely occurred to her that she might not have said that phrase correctly as she got up to leave, leaving Ivan to fall back onto his bed again after the door was closed.

When Yekaterina was back in her own room, she sighed and pulled out her phone at once, then scrolled down to Feliks's name and sent him the text: Sorry, asking him nicely didn't work. I was going to try the thing with Natalya, but I'm not thinking she would take advice from me. Or that she would even need it.

In the middle of his conversation with Toris, Feliks felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and immediately fished it out to check the text without saying anything to the other—who was still talking until he realized what his friend was doing.

Upon reading the text, he frowned and pursed his lips, figuring, I guess I didn't really expect that to work, anyway. Hmph. And then he put the phone away without replying, as he didn't see the need to, and still without saying anything.

"Who was that?" Toris asked, finding it odd that Feliks would be completely silent about a text he'd gotten. Even if it was just the phone company sending him one of those automatic texts, he would have said so and complained about how annoying those things were.

Feliks looked up at him and worried for a second, as he couldn't let Toris know exactly what that text had been about—but he didn't see any point in lying completely. "Oh—it was just Yekaterina."

"Hm. Wait—isn't she… isn't she Natalya's sister?" said Toris abruptly and frantically, suddenly leaning forward on the floor and practically falling on his face as he held himself up by his hands and knees rather close to Feliks. He'd known that Feliks had made friends with the girls from his Fashion Design class, but he hadn't known that they were close enough to text.

"Uh… yeah—"

"Does she ever say anything about Natalya?—Do you know if Natalya ever says anything about me?"

He was suddenly very excited, feeling his heart pound just at the thought of her. She was the only good in his new life as Ivan's subordinate (he refused to call himself Ivan's friend), and he wanted so desperately just to hold a full conversation with her. And she was the first real crush Toris had ever had…. It was too bad she was one of those "hard-to-get" types. But he figured that meant a challenge, and life wasn't supposed to be easy, right?

"Um…" At a sudden loss for words, Feliks blinked and frowned again. That had been completely counter-productive. They had gone from talking about the game (mixed along with the homework they were doing and helping each other with—well, Toris was helping Feliks, at least) to talking about Toris's mega-crush. And that was rather frustrating. "No, and… like, if she even did, it would probably be about how much she wants to stab you, dude," he ended up saying, sounding more serious than his demeanor usually let him be. "Didn't she actually pull a freaking knife out on you once?"

"Pssh—yeah, but… she's just feisty, is all," Toris said, shrugging off the fact in Feliks's words. "I'm sure she's warmed up to me at least a little…." He sighed at the thought of her, starting to daydream—to Feliks's discontent, which he was unaware of. But then he had a thought—"Wouldn't it be great if I could get Natalya, and then you could get Yekaterina? And then we could go on double-dates!"

And—once again—people said he was the stupid one…. Did Toris really not know? Did he really have no idea? Harrumphing, Feliks turned and let himself fall back so that he was lying on his back on the carpet and propping his feet up on the edge of Toris's bed. He didn't talk for several seconds, as he felt like drifting off into is own little world, until he turned his head toward Toris and poked him in the stomach.

"Nah, I don't like her like that," he told him, trying to hide the sudden ache from not being able to tell him the whole truth. "Hey, can I stay the night?"

Well, that had been pretty out-of-the-blue. But Toris had grown to expect random things to come out of his friend over the years. And it snapped him out of his Natalya fantasies.

"Um… well, you only live next door, so it don't see the point—"

"Yeah, well, I don't feel like getting up. I can just like, go cross the balcony space in the morning." Looking Toris over a little, he could tell that he wasn't thinking about Natalya anymore. Mission accomplished.

"I… I guess, yeah," he agreed, pushing his hair out of his face and yawning. "I don't think my parents would care, either. They'd just think we had a long night with homework. Speaking of which—we should get back on that…."

Almost instantly, Toris switched into focused-mode and was looking over his English assignment intently and then writing stuff down. Meanwhile, Feliks hadn't started on anything, but had just rolled over to stare at his Algebra textbook. He frowned at a problem in silence for a minute, tapping the eraser of his pencil against the book, and then made a half-assed attempt to work out the answer on his paper. God, he really hated math.

"Hey, can you check this problem for me?" said Feliks, pushing the paper over to Toris and leaning his face against his hand.

"Yeah, just hold on," Toris sighed, a little exasperated from having checked every problem so far. At least he wasn't being asked to do his friend's homework for him…. When he did check it, he had to, once again, explain where Feliks had gone wrong. "And you should stop doodling in the margins of your paper…," he added. "You're taking up space where you could be working out the problem…."

"Yeah, whatevs," said Feliks, rolling his eyes and smiling a little. "I have, like, plenty of room."

Friday's game was a bit more exciting than the first two, considering the experience they now had. A lot of the team members were generally exhausted from all the running and exercise—which, for most of them, was more exercise than they'd ever done in just that span of time in their whole life, especially now, as the match was drawing to an end with two and a half minutes left.

Not much could get past Berwald, as he really was an excellent goalie (not to mention he was freaking huge), but the occasional ball did because he wasn't quite as quick to defend the goal as he was to defend Tino's face. Perhaps if they should put him behind the net….

Except only Berwald himself was aware of his feelings for Tino (as far as he knew), and he wasn't going to admit them, so they were going to stick with the methods they had.

They were currently winning by two points, and the other school's team didn't exactly seem like the type that would make a good comeback in just a couple minutes (they weren't organized, and strategies didn't seem to flow well between the players), but they had taken a time-out for water and to discuss, just in case.

Up in the stands, it was about half and half between people who were just bored, as they figured there was really no point in continuing the game at this point, and people who were watching and waiting anxiously. A certain albino, however, was in neither of those categories, as he had finally decided to move away from his friends (at their goading) and approach Elizaveta, who was sitting alone.

"Hey—vhy isn't Roddy vis you?" was the first thing Gilbert said as he sat down next to her. He mentally smacked himself for having had to say that at once, but really, his pride and inherent obnoxiousness wouldn't have let him say anything else.

Elizaveta turned her head to look at him, surprised that Gilbert had wanted to talk to her—both because they'd kind of been on edge around each other lately, and because the match was nearly over. But she supposed the company was nice, as Yekaterina was sitting with Matthew (to the great happiness of her fangirl-heart), and Feliks had decided not to come to this game as a tactic to make Toris jealous. She didn't quite think that one was going to work, but it was possible, so she allowed it.

"You going to keep calling him that?" she sighed, not even bothering to sound that angry this time—though she did fold her arms and frown.

Gilbert realized that trying to act as though he respected Liz's relationship with Roderich might be pretty helpful in getting her to be with him, but once again, his pride was in the way. He was willing to do anything to get her—except be nice in any way to that bastard.

"Yup," he said stubbornly, but not necessarily in a mean way.

Sighing again, Elizaveta just decided to let it go for now. She was tired of fighting with him about that, and she figured if it only got as bad as her friend calling her boyfriend that name (the name they both used to call him, she reminded herself painfully), then she could deal with it.

"Well, he's not all that interested in soccer," she told him, only glancing at him for a second because the time-out had just ended, and the teams were back on the field. "So he doesn't come to games. Why aren't you with Francis and Antonio?"

He hadn't thought of that. Verdammt…, he thought in panic, needing an excuse that didn't sound stupid and hating himself for not having come up with one beforehand.

"Uh… vell, I noticed you und tsought you looked lonely, so I figured I'd come sit vis you." Yeah, that was an awesome excuse. Such an awesome excuse….

That sounded rather odd, coming from him…. But then she figured it was just annoying enough to fit him.

"Just because Roderich's not here doesn't mean I'm lonely," she told him, her nose slightly higher in the air now. "And it's kind of pointless because there's only about a minute left in the game now, but… thanks. I guess."

A thanks was good, right? Right? Well, Gilbert, at least, saw it as a considerable amount of progress and suddenly had his ego inflate and threaten to burst inside him—but interrupting his thoughts was a sudden eruption of cheers and a punch to his upper arm—

Down on the field, his little brother's friend had just kicked the ball straight into the other team's goal, with only twenty seconds left. As he realized this, he immediately broke into woots and cheers and clapping along with Elizaveta (who was just about as fond of Feliciano as he was). And he then took a second to give a smug look to the other team's supporters on the other side of the field, who were glaring.

Any tension between Gilbert and Elizaveta was gone as the whistle blew and the game was officially over, at which he started to stand up but then was conflicted as to whether he wanted to stay with her or go down and congratulate Ludwig and Feliciano. Until, that is—

"Oh, I'm so proud of Feli!" Elizaveta said, practically in a squeal that Gilbert found kind of cute. "Come on, let's go hug him!" And then she grabbed his hand unwittingly and pulled him down the bleacher-steps with him, at which he took the chance to look over at Antonio and Francis and give them a huge grin and thumbs-up.

"You know, all the effort you put into getting that last kick wasn't really necessary," said Arthur, though even he couldn't help but smile proudly as he looked at Feliciano, just like the rest of the team was. Plenty of people from the stands had already come up to congratulate them before leaving, and the team was currently packing up their stuff and getting ready to leave theirselves.

"Yeah, well… I hadn't scored yet at all, so I wanted to take the chance!" Feliciano replied cheerfully, zipping up his bag and pulling the strap over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Ludwig was sneaking a few seconds' look at his friend to smile slightly, pride burning in his chest. When the feeling got too strong, he looked away and took a long drink from the water bottle he was holding.

"Hey—again, great game, guys," Coach Vargas said over all of them, getting a few of their attentions. "Since it's a Friday, who wants to go out to eat to celebrate?"

There was a lot of enthusiasm at that, but no one matched Alfred's nearly ear-piercingly loud scream of "ME!"

"Woah, alright then," the coach laughed. "Just make sure it's okay with your parents first—"

"Definitely okay with me," said Alfred's mom, who'd been standing by along with a lot of the other parents, at once. She flashed a smile at Roma (which he immediately was figured as flirtatious, especially since he knew the woman was single by her lack of a wedding ring) as she left, passing her son and giving him a small pat on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll appreciate the peace and quiet, eh?" she added in a mutter down to Matthew, who was walking beside her.

All of the other parents who were there agreed as well (to only one person's dismay: Toris's mom agreed before he could say anything himself, and he was too scared of Ivan to say out loud that he didn't want to come) and said goodbye to their kids before leaving. Arthur, however, had to text his mom to ask, and Mathias didn't bother texting his parents because he didn't think they would care.

Roma turned to see Baldric leaning against the end of the bleachers, folding his arms and not coming forth to say anything on Ludwig's behalf. He supposed the man preferred not to speak if it was to him, and instead he expected his grandson to come to him and ask. Which was a little strange, considering he was a school principal and therefore should have been able to set aside his stubbornness from a grudge…. But then again, that was pretty much the same old Baldric.

It didn't seem that Ludwig was about to do that, though, as he glanced over to the boy talking with his own grandson. Sighing inwardly, Roma looked back over to Baldric and didn't look away at once. Alright, he could be mature about this…. He wasn't just going to completely avoid the man.

Forcing his resolve away for the moment, he stared long enough to catch Baldric's eye (which wasn't long at all) and then raised his eyebrow in a questioning look. It was the closest he was willing to get to conversing civilly with him just yet.

Ludwig's grandfather seemed to glare at him for a second before briefly closing his eyes and giving a small nod. Roma almost had to keep himself from smirking at how calm of a person he still was. His respect for him might have re-grown a little, too.

Once Arthur confirmed he could go (he hadn't gotten a reply from his mother yet, but he figured he was going to eventually and if not, then he was just willing to face the consequences when he got home), there were several more fist-pumps to the air, and a lot of them started toward the gate before Roma could even say,

"Great—everyone in my van!"

"Heh, that's what she said," Alfred muttered to himself not-too-quietly as he made toward the coach's van.

"What?" Arthur snapped his head over to him and frowned deeply at him. "That doesn't even fit there, idiot."

"Well, it sounded sexual, so…."

"Come on, don't make immature jokes likes that if you can't even make them right," Arthur huffed. "There's a strategy to it, you know."

"Oh yeah? Well, explain this strategy then, Artie," Alfred laughed.

While Arthur was getting all technical and frustrated in his one-sided argument, Mathias was a ways away sniggering to himself about the same thing and how wrong it sounded. His mood was considerably lifted from what it had been about ten minutes earlier, when he had been denied victory sex by Lukas. Next to him, Berwald was still happy (though he didn't show it) that Tino had hugged him straight after the game, and Mathias knew it. It kind of annoyed him.

The local pizza place soon had eleven new customers, and the people who were already eating there didn't seem too pleased to have a whole bunch of rowdy boys suddenly there. But Kiku was the only one who really had any sympathy for them.

Before they had all even finished ordering, Feliciano had already flirted with the woman at the counter—at which Ludwig felt a pang his chest and was suddenly irrationally angry, but he had to force himself not to just pull his friend away from the counter by the shirt while they were in public. (Roma, however, was visibly proud of his grandson for being such a good flirt.)

When they sat down, it was apparent that, even as a team, they still weren't quite close enough to all sit at one long booth. Feliciano and Ludwig sat together, joined by Kiku and Heracles, and then Alfred and Arthur took a table for two directly next to Ivan and Toris (the former of which decided to scoot their table closer to them). Berwald was happy with sitting alone, but Mathias really didn't want to sit alone, so he figured the one person in his friend group (however much he disliked him) would do.

Coach Vargas sat alone on purpose, as it would have been weird for him to sit with a student he couldn't even say he knew personally—and his grandson had three friends sitting with him.

It was a relatively decent celebration, though.

Ludwig was deciding rather quickly that he was glad that Kiku had gotten a friend to spend time with on his own, as he knew he and Feliciano were probably a handful, but he couldn't quite say that he liked Heracles. As close to Kiku as he seemed, he was also visibly rather lazy. He proved to be able to hold rather intelligent conversations, though… almost like a philosopher. (That seemed to be the only thing Feliciano didn't like about him, since he couldn't keep up with them.)

Over at Arthur's and Alfred's table, they were arguing over whether Captain America or Iron Man was better.

"Um, well, excuse you, Iron Man's got two movies compared to Captain America's measly one…. And Tony Stark is a genius. Steve Rogers was just a weakling who got powers from a bottle."

"You're completely missing the point, dude!" said Alfred, practically pounding his fist on the table. "Steve has a huge heart, and he's totally selfless! The last time I checked, bro, Tony Stark doesn't care about anyone. There was even that scene, you know, with the 'proof that Tony Stark has a heart'—"

"Because he's misunderstood!" Arthur insisted for about the third time. "And he's Robert-bloody-Downey Jr. Which makes him Sherlock Holmes, so your argument is invalid."

"Oh, come on, Chris Evans—"

"Guys, you're both wrong. Thor is the best, because he's the freaking God of Thunder," Mathias broke in, leaning over and talking over Ivan's table.

The argument about Marvel superheroes continued for a few minutes before Roma put an end to it and told them all that Hawkeye was obviously the best, and that if they were going to argue they better read the original comics first.

Feliciano had had no idea his grandpa could be such a nerd.

Not too much later, Arthur realized that his mother still hadn't replied to his text, and he sighed to himself. He figured Coach Vargas would give them all rides home, but he suddenly felt a burst of pride that wouldn't allow him to do it. Besides, he didn't want to risk getting yelled at in front of all his teammates. So he decided to text Francis and ask if he could have his mom come pick him up, instead. He'd done that before, and he knew he could at least count on his frenemy to make sure he never got stranded anywhere—mostly because of an incident from when they were little kids in which Arthur had gotten lost in the woods and Francis had been terrified that he couldn't find him.

When Alfred finally announced that he was full (long after everyone else had finished), there was a mutual sigh of relief among everybody, and they looked to Coach Vargas for him to say that they were leaving.

As though on cue, that was also when Francis came through the door and immediately spotted Arthur among the rest of the soccer team.

"You wanted me to pick you—?"

"Impeccable timing, Watson," Arthur said out of habit, smirking slightly at his clever reference before standing up and taking a final drink of his Dr. Pepper. "See you all tomorrow," he addressed his team, grabbing his bag off the floor and giving them a sharp wave goodbye.

"What, did you not want to ride back wis zem?" asked Francis in a low voice as he walked with him back out of the pizza place.

"I wanted to leave as early as possible," he muttered. "A bit too late, though…."

"Hn." Francis laughed a little to himself and put an arm around Arthur's shoulders—because of the slight chill of the air, of course. "If you tsink your mom will be too angry, you can just stay ze night and wait out 'er 'angover tomorrow," he offered.

"I—yeah, I'll just do that." Arthur nodded a little and made a purposely feeble attempt to shrug Francis's arm off—it was just too comforting in his sudden fear of his mother. It was a Friday, which meant most of his brothers were probably out or staying with their friends, and it was his mother's night to drink. He didn't know about his father, but he could deal with that later.

Back in the shop, while everyone else was getting up and watching them leave, quite a few of them were confused as to why Arthur had gotten a different ride, and also as to how he was behaving like that with Francis—until they noticed the arm around his shoulders.

"Oh," Alfred said, his eyes widened slightly. He then smirked and laughed a little to himself, followed by realization-sniggers from Feliciano and Heracles too, and then Coach Roma standing up all the way and giving a firm,

"Well then."

Heh, I hope you all enjoyed the Marvel references... And I feel kind of bad for making Gilbert totally hate Roderich in this, since I've been shipping PruAus more and more lately... but whatever.

And everyone on the soccer team totally ships FrUK. Because who wouldn't? ;D

Anyway, reviews are very much appreciated, and I'd like to know what you thought of the chapter! ^_^