A/N: Dude…171 reviews? Am I tripping?! Thank you all so much! Each and every one just made me squeal like the teenage girl I am and I'm just so grateful for all of it. Thank you! ^_^

So some of you are all like, "OMG IT'S GONNA BE RUSAME!" and I've read some reviews that said I've gotten them interested in the pairing. First off, the fact I've gotten people interested in my OTP makes me so damn happy! Second off, I'm kinda juggling about with the idea. Dunno if I'll put it in or not, but expect to see a lot of Ivan – as he's one of the main characters.

THERE YOU HAVE IT. BE EXCITED. :3

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

By the time Alfred reached his locker, Ivan was waiting for him. Literally. He was standing beside the metal door with his backpack slung over his shoulder, waiting. It kind of creeped out the smaller teenager, mainly because he hadn't been expecting it. And also because it was Ivan and the dude seemingly never left him alone. Sometimes Alfred wondered if Ivan was trying to get dirt on him so he could have something to tease or blackmail with. Other times Alfred wondered if Ivan was trying to psych him out or something. Whatever the reason, it was starting to get on the American's nerves.

"Dude, was it really necessary to wait by my locker?" Alfred said now, looking at Ivan. "We could've just met up at the library."

"Da, we could have. But knowing you, you would just run off," Ivan responded easily, giving Alfred a look that said Do Not Try To Deny It.

The American turned away from the Russian, trying to cover his shame and guilt by putting books in his locker. Because the truth was, was that he probably would have chickened out last minute and ran all the way home; just like Ivan said. However, now that his project partner had been there waiting for him, he couldn't have made a move. And now here he was: stuck on a study date with his enemy. Perfect.

The beige-haired teen seemed to notice the other's discomfort and he changed the topic. "So," he began. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

The blonde side glanced at the other warily. What game was Ivan trying to pull? "Run," he answered quickly. Then he slammed shut the locker and locked it before starting to walk away.

Ivan fell into step beside him. "Are you a runner then?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"How often do you run?"

"At least twice a day."

"Why?"

"Why so many questions, Braginsky?"

"Why not, Alfred?"

The doors leading out of the school were now at the end of the hallway. Alfred could see them. Anticipation drifted through him suddenly and he started to jog. The sooner they got to the library, the sooner they got done, and the sooner they got done then the sooner he got rid of Ivan, and the he got rid of Ivan the sooner he could go home and run.

"Hey!" Ivan called out from behind him. "Wait!"

"Hurry up, commie!" Alfred replied back loudly, not bothering to stop until he burst through the double doors and into the fresh air. Then he started to fast walk towards the library.

A moment later the Russian caught up to him. "Why," he began, "did you run?"

"I dunno."

A few moments of silence passed. Eventually Ivan stated, "I am not communist."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Sure," he drawled back, not believing a word of it.

"Just because I am Russian does not mean I am communist."

"Sure."

"I hope you know that by saying such things, you're also saying that your friends Gilbert and Ludwig are Nazis simply because they are from Germany."

That made the American pause. Was that really the same thing? He didn't think so. Why? Because Gilbert and Ludwig were cool, whereas Ivan was not.

However, Ivan continued on relentlessly. "Which is not true because Ludwig is friends with a Jewish girl, da? So he isn't a Nazi."

If the Russian's tone was icy or angry, the American wouldn't have been speechless and afraid. If the Russian's tone was icy or angry, the American would've thought up a great comeback to defend himself with. If the Russian's tone was icy or angry, the American would've been able to let the comments slide right over him.

But the Russian's tone wasn't icy or angry.

It was calm as if stating a fact.

And that made it so much scarier.

"Now, look at you," Ivan said. "You are American. Born in America. People from other countries look at Americans and think they're fat, rude, and stupid. But that's not true, is it?"

Yes, Alfred thought, biting his lip as the words hit him hard. It is for me.

"Tell me, Alfred, would you like to be classified as such?" The taller teenager questioned, readjusting his backpack.

The shorter teenager didn't answer for a long while, and the other didn't rush him to. Why is Ivan doing this? He thought, staring straight ahead on the sidewalk. Is he trying to bring me down lower than I already am? He already knows I fit all of the stereotypes. Is that the whole point of this conversation? To point out my flaws? Oh god he is just like Arthur and Francis. He's just another one of them.

Pretty soon they came across a big intersection. Cars roared past with an occasional motorcycle or truck, and the noise level was louder. Ivan pressed the crosswalk button and leaned against it, eyeing Alfred with a thoughtful expression on his face. Alfred soon noticed and instantly felt self-conscious and anxious. Just what was Ivan thinking?

Probably how fat you are, the voice started up once more. How horrible you are with conversations. You didn't even answer his question. And before that you nearly ran off. Ha! What a horrible, horrible project partner you are. Tch, he's probably thinking of ways to ditch your sorry-ass right now.

Alfred turned away and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in; he tried to hold back the urge to cover his ears with his hands.

Ivan saw and asked, "Alfred?"

He's talking to you now. Are you going to answer him? No? Thought so, idiot. Selfish of you to do so, you know. What was that motto you live by? "Heroes aren't selfish?" The voice attacked.

Oh god just stop, Alfred pleaded. Just stop, okay? I don't want to listen to this anymore…

"Alfred, what's wrong?"

Why? Too truthful for you? If so, then GROW UP! The voice morphed into Arthur's now. You need to learn your goddamn place in the world, you fat, loathsome, selfish, son of a bitch! You're a fucking mess right now. And in front of Ivan. Oh boy will that get you far. Perhaps he'll take pity and only dish out twice as many comments as opposed to thrice. Be grateful.

A hand touched his shoulder gently, causing Alfred to snap open his eyes. Everything was blurry due to the unshed tears, and the noises were slightly muffled. He then realized in horror that his hands were over his ears and that he was slightly shaking and that Ivan was no longer leaning against the streetlight watching him. Instead, his project partner had his hand on his shoulder and looking at him with worried violet eyes. Alfred instantly dropped his hands and jerked away from the contact, feeling ashamed and hugely embarrassed.

Ivan watched him warily. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Fine." Alfred bit out, blinking swiftly to get rid of the tears. "Just fine."

"That didn't look 'fine', Alfred. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Alfred looked at the crosswalk sign, which had now turned white. He started to walk across, not waiting for Ivan. His face was on fire and his throat felt tight and he wondered how he'd ever live this episode down. When he found out that he couldn't, he felt resigned and hopeless. Attention whore, the voice snickered cruelly.

Behind him, Ivan followed.

The public library was fairly empty when they arrived. Without saying a word to each other, both teenagers set their backpacks down at a vacant table and headed off to the non-fiction side of the building. There, they searched for the Cold War section and, upon finding it, were shocked to see how big it was. "Dude," Alfred breathed aloud, today's earlier episode temporarily forgotten. "We'll never find anythin' on the Space Race here."

Ivan made his way to a bookshelf and started to read the titles. "Nyet," he objected over his shoulder. "For something so important on technology, there is bound to be something. Now start looking."

"Or we could just, ya know, ask."

The Russian turned around. "Good idea," he acknowledged. "You ask."

The American's eyes widened; his pride having been pricked. Heroes didn't ask for anything, so why should he? "Nuh uh, dude. You ask."

"What? Me? No."

"But you could just say you're from a different country and, like, totally don't know how shit here works."

Ivan sighed. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "Next time, it's your turn."

Alfred snickered. "Whatever, man. Just go."

So Ivan went and returned five minutes later with one of the librarians, who showed him right where it was. Alfred hung back and faked looking at a book about the Vietnam War, not wanting to be associated with his project partner. When he saw the librarian had left, he put the book away and quickly joined Ivan again. "So," he began, "that wasn't so hard, right?"

Ivan glanced at him and pulled out a book. "Nyet," he agreed. "Why even you could do it."

"Of course I could! I'm the hero!"

No you aren't, the voice contradicted. Alfred tried to ignore it this time.

"…You miss my point..."

"Whatever, Braginsky."

"You know you can call me Ivan, da?"

"What's up with the 'da' thing? And yeah, man. I know. I just choose not to."

"Americans," the violet-eyed teen muttered somewhat irritably.

"Say what?" The blue-eyed teenager asked.

"Nothing. Go find a book."

"You aren't my mother."

"Da, I know. I also know that you don't have a mother but rather two fathers."

"…You aren't my father."

"Slava Bogu za eto," Ivan muttered in Russian before walking off, two books in his hands.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Alfred called out, newfound panic rising in his chest. What had Ivan said? Why was Ivan leaving?!

"Come back to the table when you've found something," came the reply.

Some of the panic quelled; at least Ivan wasn't ditching him. Alfred started to look around for books on the communist point of view. It wasn't as if he cared if Ivan ditched him, per say, it was just that it would be embarrassing. And hurt him. A lot. Which really shouldn't be a problem to begin with because he really shouldn't be giving a fuck.

There! The American found one. Now he could go back and get this dumb study date over with. Heading back, he wondered how long they should stay. A half hour seemed too short and an hour and a half seemed too long. An hour seemed reasonable, though. Enough time to get shit done but not enough time to feel it drag out. Yes, an hour was perfect.

When he reached the table he saw Ivan sitting on a wooden chair and flipping through some pages, seemingly oblivious. To get his attention, Alfred dropped his book on the table with a loud BANG! Ivan didn't flinch at all and looked up at him, annoyed. "That was rude," he said.

"How?" Alfred countered.

"It's a library."

"Da, I know."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Depends."

"Your accent it horrible."

"Just like yours."

The Russian glared ice and pointed the American's book. "That's all you have?" He inquired.

The American looked down at his book. It wasn't thin, but it wasn't thick either. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Problem?"

"How're you going to have enough information?!"

"Easy. I GTS."

"GTS?"

"Google That Shit."

Ivan was not amused. "Mr. Chancy said we had to have book evidence too," he pointed out.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "When?" He challenged.

"It was in the blue packet."

"And you actually read that piece of crap?"

"Da."

"Nerd."

Ivan sighed, and Alfred could tell that it was going to be one long hour.

One long, boring as heck hour later, Alfred and Ivan exited the library. They had gotten some work done miraculously, and now all the American wanted to do was run. But he was held up when Ivan asked, "Do you think we can do this again on Tuesday?"

Blue eyes widened. Another study date with Ivan? No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. One was enough. But the look on Ivan's face, those violet eyes filled with hope, made him want to. And this project was for a good chunk of their grade…

Alfred was surprised when he felt himself say, "Sure."

The Russian smiled. "Great! Well I have to go now. Do svidaniya!" He exclaimed, heading off in the opposite direction.

It wasn't until Alfred reached his house that he realized what he had agreed to.

And he was not happy.

At all.

Translations:

Slava Bogu za eto – Thank God for that (Russian)

Do svidaniya – Goodbye (Russian)