Birds Of A Feather [Chapter One]
Birds Of A Feather
Disclaimer:I don’t own any of the characters from Axis Powers Hetalia
Summary:His voice was a mocking lilt and the sly curve of his lip had the boy opposite clenching his fists, one hand almost crushing the cigarette between his fingers as he trembled with barely suppressed rage. Gakuen Hetalia, AU, Eventual Shonen-ai.
PROLOGUE
Chapter One
[FF.NET]
Arthur massaged the smarting skin across his knuckles, scowling all the while at the tree that he had assaulted as though it had mortally offended him.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d managed to collect another weeks worth of detention (and bruises), he hadn’t even attempted to start the History essay he was due to hand in tomorrow and now some asshole had caught his not so glorious almost-defeat at the hands of Bonnefoy of all people and seemed to find rubbing it in his face an amusing pass-time.
Just bloody wonderful!
Previously, Arthur had managed to dodge punishment for his fights with Francis, getting off lightly with ten minute lectures or having to run a few small errands for the teacher in question; marks on the higher side of average for most subjects, he generally got on with his work without creating a fuss - the teachers he had appreciated this.
And then there was also the fact that Arthur only sent violence in Bonnefoy’s direction when everyone else in the room was trying their hardest not to.
This, unfortunately, did not cut it when caught red handed throwing punches in the middle of a packed corridor by the Vice Principle himself.
…He was not looking forward to having to explain this to his brother when he got home. Again.
He let out a small growl of frustration before stalking away. He consulted his watch, deciding to stop off at the canteen before he headed home.
Taking a last puff of his cigarette, he flicked it to the floor and crushed it under his heel. He stepped onto concrete just as the bell sounded, signalling the end of the day.
Arthur re-entered the building, the small trickle of students becoming a wave as he pushed against the tide of teenagers attempting to escape exams and education. At least until tomorrow.
He had no need to hide his presence as his last block had been a free period, but he still dodged the teachers that he could; despite having a decent academic record, his recent punch ups with Bonnefoy and the resulting punishments caused him to avoid the attention of the staff when he could.
Slipping into the canteen Arthur headed straight for the vending machines; if he was going to have to face Euan when he got home he needed caffeine. Even if the tea there tasted like crap.
He settled at an occupied table with his polystyrene cup. Blowing at the dark liquid idly he nodded at the other in a way of greeting, taking a gulp of his piping hot black tea.
“Congratulations. I hear you earned yet another week of detention,” the shorter boy remarked. His dark hair framed serene eyes and the only hint of his amusement that he gave was the slight tilt of the corner of his lip.
Arthur scowled into his cup. He wasn’t particularly surprised that the news had spread fast but that did not mean that he had to be happy about it. He heaved a sigh, “I don’t suppose you could let Hong know that his tuition’ll have to be an hour later than usual, could you?”
The other sipped his own tea - aromatic jasmine tea contained in a thermos - inclining his head to the request and grinning slightly. “I do not think that he will mind in the slightest since he insists you teach English far better than any teacher he’s ever had.”
Arthur’s cheeks darkened at the praise, waving it off awkwardly while muttering “Well, it’s always nice to teach someone who actually appreciates the language.”
“He wanted me to pass along the names of the poems he’s to analyse for his coursework - ‘To His Coy Mistress’ and ‘Sonnet 12’, if I remember correctly.”
Feeling his brows shoot up his forehead as he made the connection between the names, Arthur mumbled “Just what kind of teacher does he have?” into the rim of his cup before inhaling some more.
They were content to sip their drinks in comfortable silence, enjoying the relative peace that was so rarely present in this part of school.
A thought occurred to Arthur and he turned again to the other. “Kiku, you’re friends with that big German guy, aren’t you?”
Kiku raised a brow at the sudden enquiry but did not question it, instead nodding slowly and stating, “Ludwig? Yes, that’s right.”
“He has a brother doesn’t he?” Another slow nod. “What’s his name?”
He thought for a moment, sweeping his dark bangs from his face before replying. “I believe his name is Gilbert.”
Arthur nodded to himself, recognising the name. “I ran into him earlier but couldn’t remember what he was called,” he explained, answering the questions Kiku was far too polite to ask. Kiku regarded him thoughtfully as he finished his tea. Stowing the flask away in his bag, he asked “Would you mind telling he where you saw him? Ludwig was looking for him earlier, actually…”
Arthur relayed the information requested and Kiku excused himself, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
Of course, now that he thought about it, it seemed silly of him to have forgotten his own classmate - although they no longer shared many classes, living in the same catchment area and being born in the same year had meant that he and Gilbert had been to the same schools for years. Back when Physical Education had been part of the compulsory curriculum, he could recall being put on the same team as him in football - they had ‘totally annhialated’ their opponents (in Gilbert’s own words) as they teamed up against Bonnefoy and Edelstein’s team. Not that beating Roderich Edelstein in any form of sport could be called much of an achievement, but Arthur had managed a nasty side tackle which had tripped up the blond French boy before he had been reprimanded and taken off the pitch. Arthur still maintained that his sacrifice had been completely worth it.
Arthur wrinkled his nose. This Gilbert had no reason to direct such a hostile manner towards him (that he was aware of, anyway) so his attitude earlier seemed quite uncalled for. Sure, he was a friend of Bonnefoy, but Gilbert and Antonio - the laid back Spaniard that completed their trio - tended to spectate (and jeer in Gilbert’s case) when he and Bonnefoy started their bickering without lifting a finger to help either side…
Something just wasn’t adding up…
Arthur drowned the remainder of his tea in one gulp, lobbing the cup into a nearby bin as he stood. He had other, more important, things to be worrying about at the moment; for example, how he was going to deal with his family once he got home.
x X x
Gilbert snickered to himself as the sound of his ring tone - a combination of loud guitars and drums - made his fellow pedestrians jump as he reached into his pocket to answer the call.
“Yo West, what’s up?”
“Where are you?” was the curt response that followed.
“I’m doing great, thanks for asking. And yourself?”
An irritable sigh. “I tried to find you after last block but Vater told me that you didn’t show up to his lesson.”
Sure that he would have to explain himself later anyway, Gilbert ignored the obvious prompt and opted instead to question back, “So what did you want? I’m on my way home now.”
“About that; Vater has a departmental meeting and I have to tie up a few loose ends before Open Day - you’re going to have to make dinner tonight.”
Gilbert began to squawk a protest but was swiftly cut off.
“‘But’ nothing, Bruder - your most illustrious self can manage one meal, surely.”
“It’s your job,” Gilbert argued rebelliously. “Besides, I don’t want to hear you whining if something gets moved around in your obsessively organised kitchen.”
“So that’s your excuse for not helping out with anything at all,” the other muttered. Gilbert thought he heard a familiar voice squeal “Ludwi~g!” in the back ground, and sure enough, his brother’s next words were “Look, I’ve got to go. Just make something, okay?”
Gilbert rolled his eyes and pocketed the mobile.
Why couldn’t they just order pizza?
x X x
Hearing the door swing open, Gilbert peered around the kitchen door, studying his father as he lumbered into the house… It was still a little early to determine the man’s temperament but Gilbert was not interested in waiting to find out - perhaps he could evade the impending lecture if he didn’t allow anyone the chance to get a word in edge-ways.
“You guys took long enough - I’ve just about finished the food so hurry the heck up!” He made a show of huffing indignantly before turning on his heel and re-entering the kitchen. Two sets of feet followed him into the room as his brother and father shrugged out of their jackets, the older of the two commanding in a gruff but stern manner, “We’ll have less of that, now.”
Gilbert rolled his eyes but carried three full bowls to the table, setting one on the mat that sat in front of its corresponding chair. He doubled back to collect glasses and cutlery before joining the others, dropping into his own seat.
“…And just what might this be?” The enquiry was made in a tone of voice that suggested that it’s owner was having second thoughts as to whether he really wanted to know the answer after all, or not.
It was difficult to tell whether Gilbert dismissed, or was simply oblivious to, the obvious reproach. His response was enthusiastic as he launched into his explanation. “Actually, I got the idea when I heard West’s boy toy when he called me and told me to do the honours,” his head jerked to the side to indicate the food as his younger brother scowled across the table at him. “That’s where the spaghetti’s from. The peas and sweetcorn were chucked in afterwords so West couldn’t whinge about balance and vegetables… I shouldn’t have to explain the mash.”
His audience still looked rather bemused. Gilbert shrugged, taking a fork and stirring the mixture before him vigorously, scooping up a portion and shoving it into his mouth. A thoroughly satisfied grin graced his lips as he chewed.
His father was still looking at his plate dubiously, his own fork raised yet devoid of any food. “Ludwig, I thought I told you that we could order pizza tonight.”
Hard, blue eyes turned to regard Gilbert stonily as Ludwig turned the full force of his glare upon his sibling once more. “Because, Vater, he wasn’t going to be doing anything remotely productive anyway. Speaking of which, bruder, what exactly in this goop did you actually cook yourself?”
Gilbert snorted derisively. “If you actually tried it, mein bruder, you’d be able to tell that the potatoes were boiled and mashed by hand - not that shitty powdered crap.” At this, his father finally made a move to start his meal. He looked genuinely surprised as he tasted the odd combination, only pausing long enough to sprinkle a little pepper into his bowl before having another forkful.
Ludwig did not comment on his culinary skills (or lack, thereof) after that, opting instead to begin dinner in a dignified silence with no reaction whatsoever to the concoction that he ate.
Silence reigned for a few moments as the family of three concentrated on their meal. As Gilbert had suspected, though, this did not last particularly long.
“So, Gilbert, what exactly were you doing during last block today? You certainly didn’t attend my lesson - which you were scheduled to.” Stern eyes of electric blue, older and wiser than his younger brother’s, bored calmly into his own, but Gilbert resiliently reciprocated the look, his own lamps bold and uncaring.
“Ever so sorry Mr Weillscmidt. Must have slipped my mind…Won’t happen again, I swear.” His tone was mocking, and he sensed the disapproval that caused his father’s brows to furrow, but Gilbert didn’t care.
“Do you have absolutely no regard for your own future? You do realise that the next year or so will determine the course of the rest of your life? Don’t roll your eyes at me, young man! I assumed that you had some ambition in mind when you chose the subjects to study for your A Levels but now I have to wonder.”
Gilbert sniffed in offence. “Of course I have plans.”
“And what, pray tell, are they? Do enlighten us.”
Gilbert kicked Ludwig under the table, but noticed his father was also eyeing him with interest. “Look, Media Studies is an easy A. So’s German - I already know the stuff being taught in the lessons… I didn’t think I’d hear youcomplaining if I was getting high grades,” he added in a sullen mutter. His father merely raised a brow, gesturing for him to continue. “Okay, okay. The Maths and Physics are for engineering - I’ll have to do a placement in the third year of university, when I’ll stay with Onkel Fritz in Germany. We’ve discussed it already.”
Apparently he’d rendered his audience speechless - his brother and father both looked startled by this rare (to their knowledge) moment of foresight and weren’t quite sure how to react. Gilbert shrugged, taking his empty bowl into the kitchen and leaving them in the sink to soak. He made for the door leading to the hall, but was stopped by the sound of his father’s voice addressing him.
“You will attend lessons.”
“… I already know everything you’ll teach in the lessons.” He refrained from adding that it was a complete waste of time.
“Be that as it may, you must keep your attendance up or you won’t be accepted into university. You have detention on Monday. See to it that you are there, or I will see to it that you are not allowed into the Fencing tournament next month. Have I made myself clear?”
Back still stubbornly facing his father, Gilbert gave a stiff nod before ascending the stairs. ‘I guess I’ll be keeping Francis company on Monday after all...’
-Hollyrose-
Notes:
~This fic is set in England, for the simple reason that the only education system I have any knowledge of at all is the English one. I haven't decided where in England yet though...
~Hong - Hong Kong (I figured that as Hong is actually a name, this would be the least confusing one for him to have)
Euan - Scotland
Mr Weillscmidt - Germania (Who doesn't have a first name yet =/)
~Since Prussia was so good at war tactics and such, I've always thought he'd have his life sussed in an AU, despite what those around him might think XD Also, since Rome-Jiichan's song I can't get the image of Gilbert as an engineer out of my head. (This had nothing to do with the fact that I'm about to start a degree in Automotive engineering, though it may help for future chapters)
A/N:Unfortunately Arthur and Gilbert didn't actually get to interact in this chapter (we have detention to look forward to afterall) but I thought it was important to set the scene properly...
Also, I recommend the combination of spaghetti, mash, peas and sweetcorn! This mixture of ingredients is a part of my childhood and it tastes great! (...I'm not insane, really. And I don't have weird taste because I'm British T.T Being British Indian must count for something..? XD)
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!