Update time!
And look what we've got! The start of some PruHun!
Sorry for more AmeCan, but cutiesss ahhhh
Also, oops, some light swearing included, but seriously, if you've come this far you shouldn't be affected.
Anyway, enjoy!
"Alfred. Stop behaving like a three year old child."
"'M not behaving like a three year old child!"
"Yes, you are."
"Nuh uh!"
"Uh huh."
"Nuh uh!"
"All right, this is getting ridiculous. SIGN THE BLOODY LIST YOU STUPID AMERICAN!"
"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME YOU CATERPILLAR BROWED BRIT!"
"OH REALLY!"
"What in the name of maple is going on here?!"
Gilbert looked up boredly from where he had been dabbing at his bruises. "Oh, hey Birdie. Your friends here are whining about some shit and I stopped listening an hour ago."
Matthew chuckled, then slid down next to the albino at the lunch table, opposite the arguing blondes.
"Not that I'm complaining, eh, but why aren't you with Antonio?"
Gilbert made a gagging noise.
"
He and his blushing maiden are on their honey-moon stage. I'm already injured, I don't want to die of sappiness." As the Canadian laughed, the Prussian shot him a pained look.
"I'm serious here! This is a nightmare! I hope they'll settle down soon so Lovino will at least start insulting Toni once in a while..." He then glared menacingly at his younger companion. "I swear if you and Alfred pet each other's hair and feed each other food I will end you."
Matthew flushed, but punched the other lightly.
"Oh, shut it. We've been friends for too long to be all sappy and sweet."
"True. I'd guess you'd more be the cutesy dorks who constantly bicker about nothing in particular."
The Canadian flushed a shade deeper, then spluttered: "You've got CATEGORIES now?!"
The albino paled-even more than usual-then exclaimed: "SHIT! SHE'S RUBBING OFF ON ME!"
"Stop being such a drama queen, Gil." the blonde noted, grabbing one of the other's fries as he spoke. "Which brings me back to the point: what are they fighting about now?"
"They" had heard him, however (for once!), and so Arthur informed him snidely: "Alfred is refusing to sign the paper to lend the sport team's benches to Eliza for the prom, because apparently he needs them to do push-ups, which is so important, of course."
Matthew and Gilbert turned in unison towards the slightly sheepish American, brows arched.
"Stop doing the twin act!" Alfred huffed, before continuing: "I really do need 'em! The finals are next week, literally like five days after the prom! And if I mess up the whole team is gonna be in trouble!"
Arthur's bushy brows furrowed: "And I've told you twice that you'll be fine! You're Alfred F. Jones for goodness' sake! You train about once every hour!"
The American huffed. "Yeah, no, not convinced."
Arthur turned a pleading glance towards the other two.
Gilbert just shook his head. "Nope. Not interfering here. Besides, I'm in the sport team too, and Alfie here is captain of two outta three of the things I'm doing, so...Not taking chances."
Matthew frowned. "Look, I know he's hard to convince.."Arthur started, before being interrupted. "It's not the convincing that bothers me. That's easy. I'm just trying to find a solution." He blinked. "Got it!" He turned to the other three. "The problem is that Alfred needs to train and he wants to use the benches, right? And you also need the benches, for the prom. So if Alfred can just find something else to use, then it's fine!"
"Quite so." Arthur stated, still confused.
"Yeah, maybe..." Alfred said, stubborn. "But what can I use?"
"Well, the BOSEYSIP, of course!" Matthew said, pushing up his glasses.
"The what?" the Brit asked, as Gilbert nodded in agreement.
Alfred, however, seemed to get it. "Oh..Yeah! You still have that?!"
Matthew coughed. "I couldn't exactly give it back, either, could I?"
"Uh, woah, the what?! The hell is a boseysip?!" the Prussian interjected.
The North American duo looked at each other in unison, then looked away, then back again. "We should just tell them." Matthew said, sounding defeated. "Fine..." Alfred said, then turned toward his friends. "Uh...well.. BOSEYSIP stands for Bunch Of Sport Equipment You Stole In Primary, though it really should be Bunch Of Sport Equipment We Stole In Primary!"
"No way. You forced me to do that." the Canadian said, glaring.
"It was a fair deal! The one who lost the game had to do what the other said!"
"Well you picked a sport that I suck at, on purpose!"
"Not my fault you suck at any sport!"
"Excuse me?!"
"You heard me, you Canadian wimp! Also, I'm not using your stupid equipment!"
"CANADIANS ARE NOT WIMPS!"
"They so are! They're always just like, oh we're so polite and stuff but basically useless and we need mummy Britain or America to save us from the commies, eh!"
The entire cafeteria had fallen silent, staring at the younger nations. Alfred was still fuming at Matthew insinuating he had cheated (heroes didn't cheat!), and Matthew...
The Northern nation stood upright, stretched to his full height, even taller than Alfred. His eyes had darkened considerably, and as he tilted his head ever so slightly, the room shivered. Had the room just gotten colder?
"Oh, Al. Don't start what you can't finish." Matthew said sweetly, and everyone was suddenly reminded very strongly of Ivan.
Then in a blink the Canadian was nose to nose with his southern counterpart, and shouting.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE THE PERFECT NATION SAVING US FROM THE INVADER?! ALL OUR PROBLEMS ARE CAUSED BY YOU! MAYBE YOU'RE WELL KNOWN, YEAH, BUT THREE-QUARTERS OF THE WORLD HATES YOU! AND MAYBE YOU'RE STRONG, BUT LET ME REMIND YOU THAT IN THE ONLY WAR YOU EVER FOUGHT AGAINST US, YOU LOST! AND DON'T LOOK DOWN ON US! THE ONLY REASON YOU BEAT US AT HOCKEY IS BECAUSE YOU STEAL OUR PLAYERS! BESIDES, IF WE'RE THAT INFERIOR, THEN WHEN YOUR RESOURCES DRY UP, DON'T COME BEGGING US FOR HELP! WHILE YOUR ECONOMY CRASHES, WE'RE PULLING THROUGH! BUT AFTER YOUR CRAPPY TREATMENT OF US, DON'T EXPECT THE NAFTA TO LAST! I WOULD CONTINUE, BUT MAKING YOU CRY WOULD MAKE ME THE LESSER MAN HERE SO I'LL LET YOU HANG ON TO YOUR MISPLACED PRIDE! HOSER!"
The room stood still as the Canadian calmly replaced his hair behind his ear and said, in his normal voice: "Now you've got five options. Option one, we settle this with hockey and I beat you up. Option two, I continue my rant and waste my day. Option three, I go all Northern on you and leave you mentally scared, as well as the rest of the room. Option four, I go all French on you and destroy your pride. Option five, you man the f**k up and sign the contract."
He sat down, chilled, and took a bite of his sandwich.
There was a clatter as Raivis fainted, dropping his tray. Alfred, who looked like he had been hit with a bomb, blinked, then grabbed a pen, cursing, and signed the paper. He sat back down next to Matthew, burying his face in his arms as the conversation restarted cautiously. Arthur smiled at Matthew, looking vaguely wary, and muttering something like, "now I know where the pirate genes went". "Well, thank you, lad. Your methods are very... interesting, I must say." Matthew laughed.
"Let's just say I have a lot of pent up rage, eh?"
"I hate you so much." Alfred's muffled voice came from underneath his arms.
"I love you too."
Alfred's head shot up, glaring. "I knew you stupid Canadians were secretly conspiring against us!"
"Oh, no. You've found us out. The syrup was poisoned." Matthew snarked.
"Evil Canuck." Alfred said grumpily, though his voice held no real anger.
"Hoser."
"Moose-head."
"Burger freak."
"Maple druggie."
Matthew leaned towards him and kissed his cheek.
Alfred sighed, then punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you won this one."
"I win them all, Al."
"Pfft. In your dreams."
Gilbert let out a sharp laugh. "Gott! You're so whipped!"
"Hey! I can still take you on, Beilschmidt!"
"Al, please, he's injured."
"Ja, exactly. Jones knows that's his only chance."
"Excuse you!"
"Al...Gil..."
"You wanna go, punk?"
"If you can stand without a cane..."
"Guys..."
The two cracked up, leaving Arthur rolling his eyes. "You're so adorable when you try to be bossy, Birdie." Gilbert said fondly, ruffling the other's hair. "H-hey! Stop it!" Matthew protested, blushing. "Sorry to break it to you, Jones, but your boyfriend's bipolar." Gilbert said in a serious voice.
Alfred pretended to faint, as the Canuck glared at them both. "Hosers..."
Before anyone could add anything, however, someone coughed. Elizaveta was standing there, looking rather unhappy. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Gilbert."
–-
"Please do. We're rather lacking a touch of femininity here." Arthur said, moving slightly to make space. "Unless you count Mattie." Alfred fake whispered, as the Prussian snickered.
"In private."
There was a silence, then Matthew burst out: "He was with us all day!"
The Hungarian stared: "Sorry?"
"W-well I mean...He didn't do whatever you're going to beat him up for."
The brunet gave a sheepish laugh. "Oh! No, I'm not going to beat him up. It's about the prom."
The cafeteria silenced once more.
"This is awkward." Alfred said loudly, causing both Arthur and Matthew to hiss "shut up!".
Gilbert gawped, and Eliza suddenly got it. "No! No! Not like that! I need him for the organization!"
There was a collective "ohhhh" as the room went back to their normal lives.
"Seriously! In which alternate universe do I randomly march up to Gilbert and ask him to go with me to the prom?!" The brunet asked, shaking her head embarrassedly.
"Well, dunno, maybe like if-mffghh!" Alfred started, only to have Matthew shove his fist in his mouth.
"Let's just go before this gets even more awkward." The albino suggested.
"Good idea."
Gilbert grabbed his tray, cleared it, then followed his long-time enemy outside.
"If I don't come back after ten minutes, call Ludwig!" he mouthed to his friends.
They nodded gravely.
Resigning himself to impending doom, the Prussian exited the cafeteria.
–-
Once outside, Elizaveta headed further out until they were next to the "Bad touch Tree", and sat down on the stump. "So what's all this about?" Gilbert asked impatiently.
Receiving no response, he waved his hands, making the girl jump.
Shit shit shit! She was letting herself be distracted by...Nevermind!
"I came to ask you if you could help me organize the prom." she said hurriedly.
The albino looked at her incredulously.
"Me?! You're asking me for help?!"
The brunet huffed.
"Yeah." She was trying to get to the point, but the German wasn't helping. Thing was, Elizaveta kept staring at him because...He was kind of really hot. Yes. Ok. She had admitted it.
But only at the moment!
And it was only because of the bruises and scrapes! Elizaveta had always liked warrior types, because damn, and seeing as he looked like he had just single-handedly defeated an army (he probably had once but that wasn't the point), she was feeling a bit dizzy. It had nothing to do with Gilbert himself, of course. Roderich was a warrior type, too, just more refined. He was made for fighting, even though he disliked it. Gilbert was, too, but he enjoyed it. But yes! Back to Roderich, her ideal man. Fighting bravely, and oh no there was Gilbert right in front of her face.
"Dude! Are you ill or something?!" His hand reached out and touched her forehead. Shooting back to reality, Eliza yelped and jumped back, swatting at him and trying to calm her thudding heartbeat.
Which was only thudding because he had taken her by surprise, of course, and not because his scarlet eyes were right in front of her and she could hear genuine concern in his voice or anything.
"H-hey! Don't touch me! I'm fine! I was just...thinking! Anyway, yeah, you're my last resort! That's the only reason I'm asking you, duh!" Her voice reverted to normal as she progressed, and she mentally breathed out in relief, pushing her stupid hormones away. And also the stupid voice telling her it was Gilbert, not the hormones.
"Phew! You had me freaked out there!" Gilbert exclaimed, before smirking. "So obviously you need the awesome me's help. Any reason why not Roddy?"
"Because you made "Roddy" hate my guts!" Elizaveta burst out in annoyance, remembering the embarrassment and hurt from the previous day.
"Huh? How?" The Prussian asked, looking confused.
"The whole prom thing! I told I couldn't go and when he asked why I couldn't tell him and he assumed I was-" The sentence ended in mumbled words as her cheeks flushed.
"Could you please ARTICULATE? I know your first language sounds like gibberish but that doesn't mean ya gotta talk that way in English!"
Shooting the annoying other a glare, Elizaveta repeated: "HE THOUGHT I WAS GOING WITH YOU AND NOW HE'S ANNOYED WITH ME!"
"Oh." With a certain vindictive joy, she noted that his cheeks were dusted with pink. Then he frowned. "He's mad at you 'cause he thinks you're going with me?! What a jerk!"
It was the Hungarian's turn to be confused. "Huh?"
"Since when does he own you?! Just because he doesn't like me doesn't mean he can stop you from going with me!" Gilbert said angrily. "Typisch Roderich...He's always liked controlling people. What an ass."
The brunet looked at him, frowning. She hadn't even thought of it that way.
"Well..I mean..We did use to date, so maybe he thinks I'm...mocking him?"
The Prussian snorted. "By dating someone else after two months? Please. Would you be mad at him if he dated your Romanian bff?"
She bristled in dislike, then replied: "I wouldn't be super happy, because I don't like him...But I wouldn't be angry at Roderich."
"My point exactly. Conclusion: he's a jerk."
They stood in silence a moment as Gilbert fumed and Eliza was lost in thought, before he cleared his throat.
"Anyway, the answer is no. I won't help with the prom."
"Why?! If it's just because you don't feel like helping me, then honestly-"
"Nope, not even. I just refuse to organize a prom. I've never liked old social events, and that's not about to change. Besides, it's not like I would know what people these days like, being old and dead and whatnot."
He finished talking rather sourly.
"Oh, stop being like that. You're popular here, you should know."
"No. Alfred is popular. I'm the creepy kid that has a library full of diaries and stalks his kid brother around."
"Yeah, right. Stop trying to convince me you're some loser. I mean, you are, but you're not a loner."
".."
"Come on! You always say you're alone or whatever when actually you have more friends than anyone here!"
"Like?"
"I can't believe we're doing this...Francis! Antonio! Alfred! Matthias! Matthew! Carlos! Arthur! Feli! Ludwig! And so on!"
Gilbert stayed quiet for a moment, looking like a five-year old child who's trying to throw a tantrum, then he shrugged. "Yeah, ok, whatever. But I'm not doing it."
The brunette gritted her teeth: "Look. I don't have a choice. I need someone to help me with the prom because I already have to do the article and the club. So-"
"Why can't I help with the article?" the other interrupted.
She looked at him, put off track. "W-what?"
"I mean, obviously I'm not going to help with your creepy club, but what's up with the article? What are you writing about?"
The Hungarian scowled. "It's an article about tips to ask a guy out for prom. I'm not exactly going to ask you for help."
To her surprise, rather than giving up, the ex-nation seemed encouraged: "Why don't you do it other way around? If you give guys some tips for asking a girl out, that'd be cool. I mean, we're mostly the ones to ask anyway!"
"That's completely- yeah, no, that's actually a valid point. Who are you?"
The white haired teen snickered, then raised a brow. "So? Is my awesome idea accepted or are you going to continue being a loser?"
The brunet pouted. "If I did accept, how would you come in useful?"
"I dunno, just ask me questions. You could use me to see what we struggle with when asking chicks or something. I'm still pretty sure you're not a dude, after all."
As she kicked out at his leg, the Prussian side-stepped. "Woah, I was kidding! Where's your sense of humour gone?!"
Elizaveta muttered something menacing in Hungarian, then sighed. "Fine. Ok. You'll help me with the article."
As the blonde's trademark laughter echoed triumphantly around the courtyard, Elizaveta wondered just what the hell she had signed up for.
So? Was it good? Was it terrible? Remember, reviews make me write!
Also, for the poll: You guys! Seriously! There's the same number of votes for every candidate! C'mon, please! Vote for someone who Arthur can end up with! Just go on my profile, click a choice, and boom! Voila! Otherwise I'm stuck here!
Shout out to those who have voted, and to the-awesomest-pancakes for following on tumblr :)
And of course to all of you guys for sticking around since the beginning-the author loves you all! (/-v-)/~*