A/N: Sooooo it's a late update. …Yeah. Sorry for that guys. I rewrote, like, practically everything in this chapter because I didn't like it and now I'm tired and need some sleep. And the result: A chapter I still don't like and a chapter that is late .-.

Here, have some Yaoi-that's-just-mentioned-and-not-at-all-explicit to compensate *throws chapter in the air and runs*

Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. Nichts. Non. Nyet. Do not own Hetalia.

Alfred now hated three things with a burning passion. The first was himself; the second was Mr. Chancy and his stupid project idea obsession; and the third was Ivan Braginsky. The American had honestly almost lashed out at his teacher that this Cold War thing was racist, but thought better of it. He didn't need any more trouble. What got on his nerves the most, though, was when the Russian hadn't objected for the both of them. Rather, he had encouraged the fact that they'd be working together when Mr. Chancy had asked what time period in the blasted War they would do.

"Space Race," Ivan had breathed, quickly glancing at Alfred. "We'll do the Space Race."

Mr. Chancy had nodded, eyes twinkling, as he jotted something down. Then he had given them the blue packet before dismissing them. Alfred seriously hated that guy.

"How racist is this?!" The blue-eyed teen complained, flinging himself into his chair.

The violet-eyed teen shrugged. "Very," he replied in his accent. "But what can we do? He has the power."

"Tch. What a tyrant then. I'm going to start a revolution."

"Seriously?"

"Shut up, commie. You wouldn't understand how to properly overthrow a government."

A dark aura fell over Ivan. "What did you say?" He hissed.

Alfred stared defiantly at his rival. "You heard me," he sassed back.

And then Ivan did something Alfred didn't expect. Instead of retaliating or making a hurtful comment or even challenging him to something, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Odin ... dva ... tri ... chetyre…" He mumbled. "Pyat' ... shest' ... sem' ... vosem' ... devyat' ... desyat'…"

The American stared. What was his partner saying? Was he cursing him? That sent a chill going down Alfred's back. He now regretted taking German instead of Russian for a foreign language. If he had taken Russian, he was sure he'd know just what the Russian was saying. But he hadn't and now it was very likely that he was getting hexed. And oh geez was Ivan repeating the words? Crap, crap, crap, Alfred thought. I thought that only Arthur was supposed to be into these things!

Just as he was about to voice his thoughts, the other teenager opened his eyes and made eye contact. The dark aura feeling was somewhat gone now, and he stated calmly, "As we are going to be stuck together for the semester, let's just try to be civil with each other, da?"

"Wait what?"

"Friendly, Alfred. We need to be friendly with each other."

Alfred blinked slowly. "What did you say in that weird language of yours?" He asked instead.

Ivan sighed and mumbled something before saying, "That's beside the point."

"No dude, it's not. What did you say?"

"I was counting. Now –"

"You were counting? I call bullshit! You were trying to hex me or somethin'."

The Russian made a face and crossed his arms. "That," he declared, "is the most stupid thing I've ever heard you say. And trust me, you foolish American, you have said a lot of stupid things."

The American glared. "Did not," he argued.

"Did to."

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Oh yeah? Well you're an even stupider communist who tortures people for fun!"

"I do not!"

"Do to."

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Boys!" Mr. Chancy exclaimed suddenly, cutting into their conversation. "How are things going so far?"

Alfred turned his glare to the teacher and slowly sank back down into his seat. Throughout the argument, both he and Ivan had slowly risen from their seats. And, apparently, Mr. Chancy had seen and decided to intervene before punches could be thrown. Jerk, the blue-eyed teen spat in his mind. He should have let me give Braginsky a black eye. "Just. Fine." He bit out instead, clenching his fists.

The teacher raised an eyebrow at him before turning to Ivan. "Mr. Braginsky, is that true?"

Ivan nodded once. "Da," he answered light-heartedly, smiling, before striking a conversation about the assignment.

What a kiss ass, Alfred thought, making a face while the teacher's back was turned. Forget the scarf; Braginsky should just wear the teacher's ass as a hat due to how far up his head is in it.

When the two were done conversing two minutes later, Mr. Chancy looked pleased as he walked away. Immediately, Ivan dropped the smile and scowled. So, naturally, Alfred took the opportunity to insult him. "Gotcha self a new hat?" He sneered pleasantly.

The Russian looked at him curiously, tilting his head to the side. "Why do you say that?" He inquired.

The American shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe 'cause your head is so far up his rear that you wear it like o-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because his enemy smacked him over the head with a giant textbook. "You are insufferable!"

Alfred was so pissed that it wasn't until later as he was jogging home that he realized that the teacher didn't trust him. Mr. Braginsky, is that true? Mr. Chancy's voice echoed. Forget what Alfred – who had initially been asked – had said; go ask the psychotic Russian for verification. Fuck Alfred's judgment, apparently it wasn't credible. Why had the teacher even bothered to ask in the first place when he was just going to undermine whatever the student said? When he trusted Ivan more?

Ivan's voice chimed in all of a sudden, Friendly, Alfred. We need to be friendly with each other.

The American's gut wrenched unexpectedly. What had he done instead? What had he, Alfred F. Jones, done instead? Been a complete and total asshole? But this is Braginsky, he reminded himself. We've always been jerks to each other. That's just, like, a basic Human Law.

Somehow that didn't seem to console him.

When he got home, he saw something rare. Instead of Francis or Arthur's Lexus in the driveway, there was Gilbert's beat-up, old, white Volvo just sitting there. That's weird, Alfred remarked in his mind. Ever since the parking lot incident he doesn't come around here. Walking into the house, he called out, "Hey I'm home!"

As usual, there was no reply. But he knew Matthew and Gilbert were somewhere in the house and just ignoring him.

Shrugging, the teen took off his shoes, backpack, and jacket and tossed them into the closet. Arthur would be pissed when he saw how haphazardly they were strewn about, but Alfred figured he'd fix them before the Brit got back. Going into the kitchen, the American made himself a tall glass of water to compensate for the lack of lunch (and also to hydrate himself). He noticed with an almost giddy feeling that there was a hot pink post-it stuck on the fridge and went to go grab it, quickly sucking up the words.

Boys,
Arthur and I will be out for a while. For dinner feel free to order pizza or Chinese; we won't be back by that time. Make sure to do your chores. Alfred, this means you too. We want to see them done by the time we come back.

Alfred flipped the note back and forth. Was that really all it said? Nothing more? It kind of looked like it was written in a rush, too. Huh. Guess his papa and dad had something really important going on then.

He made his way upstairs to do some homework, crumbling the post-it in his hand. As soon as he reached the landing, however, he heard noises. Strange noises he had never heard before but sounded weirdly like gasps and – oh god no. No no no no. Alfred's eyes grew wide as he raced towards his brother's bedroom; sure that the cause for those disturbing sounds lay in there. With each step, the sounds grew louder and louder and with each step Alfred was getting more and more anxious. By the time he stood two feet away, he could make out muffled words being said.

Thankfully, the door was cracked open and wasn't closed. But something made Alfred stop from barging in there. "Ngh…Dépêchez-vous! Je ne peux pas - je ne peux pas attendre plus longtemps…! Oh!" A voice that sounded like Matthew's was exclaiming. Only it sounded a whole pitch higher and louder and more desperate.

"Bist du sicher?" Someone asked huskily in German. Gilbert.

"Y-Yes!"

"Kesesese~ you're so cute when you're like this."

There was some shuffling before a long, low moan emitted from the room. Alfred's blood ran cold. Oh shit oh shit oh shit no way! He panicked, eyes widening. What should I do? Barging in there doesn't seem like a good idea now. But who knows what Gilbert might be doing to Matthew? What if he's forcing him? You know what? Calm down, Alfred. They are probably just playing Mario Kart or C.O.D. or Halo or –

Another moan scattered his thoughts and the American nearly lost it. There was no way that Matthew was having sex. No. Fucking. Way. And with Gilbert nonetheless! That guy was straight as an arrow! They wouldn't – they couldn't – be doing that right now! That was just a big No No.

So Alfred mustered up the courage to peek in through the already cracked-open door. He couldn't see anything other than Matthew's desk. Well wasn't that just great? "Gilbert…" Matthew moaned.

And that was when the American chickened out. Well screw that! He thought. I ain't goin' anywhere near there again!

Then he high tailed it out of the house and to the Public Library, where he went to go do his homework instead.

The next day, the first thing Alfred said to Matthew was, "Next time, be sure to keep the noises down, okay?"

And Matthew just blushed bright red and stuttered an apology and walked (though the American swore the Canadian was slightly limping) away hurriedly.

The first thing Alfred said to Gilbert in German 3 was, "You break his heart, and I will castrate your 'five meters'."

And Gilbert, for once, was so flustered he was speechless.

Somewhere deep within his conscience, the blonde teenager felt a little guilty about what he said. Staring at his project partner, he contemplated on apologizing for what an ass he had been yesterday. However that moment came and went as soon as violet eyes made eye contact. Scowling, Alfred decided that no, he wasn't at all sorry. Not in the least bit.

"Privet," Ivan greeted warmly, setting his books on his desk.

How he managed to still be nice, Alfred had no clue. "Hi," he responded dryly.

"Rumor has it that we get all of class to work on the project."

"Well I hope that rumor isn't true."

The Russian frowned. "Why not?" He inquired.

Before the American could answer, Mr. Chancy clapped his hands and started class. Apparently, Alfred didn't receive much luck because whatever rumor Ivan heard was true. The American tuned out after that, contemplating again on whether or not to apologize as an alternative. He really should if he wanted to go anywhere with his grade. But then again, school wasn't really his thing nowadays. He didn't care if he got good grades or bad grades. No one else seemed to care, so why should he?

But then there was Braginsky. The Russian seemed to want to work it out between them – if only for the semester – and wanted to do well. After all, it was also his grade that was on the line and not just Alfred's. To not make amends and just bullshit through would be totally selfish of the American. And heroes were never selfish.

So when the teacher was done explaining everything and the class once again became noisy as groups paired back up, Alfred turned back to Ivan and said, "I can't believe I'm going to say this…"

"Say what?" Ivan asked.

"Okay look, Braginsky. Here's the dealio: I'm going to try and be nice to you. Key word: try. But only 'cause this is a big project. So don't go thinkin' that we are gonna be friends, because I don't want to be your friend. Got it?"

"Da."

"Good," Alfred nodded in affirmation. Now that that was out of the way, he could focus on the stupid project and get it over with.

"So I was thinking," began Ivan a moment later, "that to make it more interesting, you could research the Soviet Union and I could research the United States."

"What? No."

"Why not?"

"One, you're from Russia so you should do the USSR. Two, I'm from America so I'll do the USA. Three, I don't do communist."

The Russian sighed and shook his head. He then got out the blue sheet and looked at it for a few seconds before proclaiming, "But that is just it. I learned already about the Sovetskiy Soyuz back in Russia. You have probably already learned about your country too."

Alfred leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk. "I know, dude. So this'll be easy."

"Nyet, I meant that it would be much more fun if we switched."

Blue eyes studied violet ones. On one hand, Ivan had a point; it would be more educational. On the other hand, Alfred also had point; it would be so easy just to take what they already knew and put it on a threefold board. The former would be more time consuming with more meet-ups between the two while the other would be less time consuming with even less meet-ups.

Alfred was leaning more on the latter. He honestly didn't want to spend so much time with Ivan at all. Who knew what could happen? Ivan might notice how fat he was and then start teasing him. Or he might find some other really bad thing about him and use it as blackmail. So the less time they knew each other the better.

"Um," he began. "Uh…"

"Please?" His project partner asked, his violet eyes pleading. "We can check over each other's facts to see if they're right or not, if you want."

Goddamn those eyes, Alfred found himself thinking. Then he shook his head to clear it. "You know what? Fine. We'll do it. But that doesn't mean I like it."

Ivan smiled – and it wasn't that frustrating creepy smile – and exclaimed, "Otlichnyy! And do not worry, Alfred. You will like it soon enough."

"I highly doubt that…"

Translations:

Odin…dva ... tri ... chetyre… Pyat' ... shest' ... sem' ... vosem' ... devyat' ... desyat – One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten (Russian)

Dépêchez-vous! Je ne peux pas - je ne peux pas attendre plus longtemps – Hurry! I can't – I can't wait any longer (French)

Bist du sicher? – Are you sure? (German)

Privet – Hi (Russian)

Sovetskiy Soyuz – Soviet Union (Russian)

Otlichnyy! – Excellent! (Russian)