Think We Are (6/8)
Fic: Think We Are
Genre: humor, angst of the teenage variety, pining, the usual High School Tropes
Pairings: USUK, Prussia/Hungary, Japan/Taiwan (brief)
Rating: M
Warnings:Language to the max, sex/crude language, potentially offensive POVs and nicknames, past character deaths (noncanon), bullying, brief 'slut shaming,' passing mentions of drug abuse, and teenagers(because they need their own warning).
Summary: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you're crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us...Note:The Hetalia/Breakfast Club fusion everyone wanted apparently! Enjoy,and drop a line if you care to let me know what you thought.
Think We Are
Scene Six“I'm a fucking idiot because I can't make a lamp?”
“No. You're a genius because you can't make a lamp.” Brian Johnson and John Bender, The Breakfast Club (1985)
A Snippet of Gilbert
The kicker is that his parents weren’t even the huge fuck-ups; just he was.
Gilbert had been born into privilege and had never wanted for much, and what he did want for he usually got if he worked hard or if his parents were feeling indulgent. His parents were successful imports from Germany who settled in America to have their family after they’d achieved their financial goals. Gilbert had nannies growing up, but it wasn’t like his parents were absent from his life-they were just an older, muted presence who didn’t have the energy that a kid his age needed. Plus, they had his little brother to take care of-Ludwig had been a sickly baby and had needed constant attention, and Gilbert liked the thought of being a big brother, so it had never mattered to him.
Things only started to change as he got older. Ludwig got better and in getting better, he started to show all the ways he was different from Gilbert. Gilbert had always had attention problems and struggled to maintain his grades. Ludwig did not. Gilbert was always sneaking into the neighbor’s yard and tying things to her cat’s tail and causing mischief. Ludwig did not. Gilbert was pale and looked like a ghost with his wispy hair and pale blue eyes. Ludwig looked like he belonged in some magazine and was all golden and blond and tall. Somewhere along the line, Gilbert started to become the sickly one, not Ludwig, and it was about then that Gilbert started at Hetalia Academy, the same school his father had attended as an exchange student.
Gilbert didn’t resent his brother for being better and brighter than he was (at least, not all the time), but he thinks it was because he was so much better and so much brighter that Gilbert started to do things that made him more than just Ludwig’s shadow. Being his antithesis wasn’t ideal, but Gilbert had learned you had to work with the cards you’d been dealt early on in life. And being the ‘screw-up, basket-case’ older brother wasn’t so bad, once he found out he was actually happy with his role. It was nice to be heard, and infuriating the ‘civilized folk’ was really just an added bonus.
There were times though, where he wished that his parents still paid attention to him beyond their careful disdain and disappointment. Times he wished his parents hadn’t been business first and foremost and left family second, because then, maybe, he wouldn’t have been written off as the family black sheep like a transaction gone sour. Times where he wished he didn’t cause his little brother so much stress, because despite all the shit Gilbert’s done over the years, Ludwig still idolized him in some sense and he hated how their parents clearly favored him over Gilbert. Times where he wished he could just sit still for once, instead of pulling everything that tried to cage him closer to his fucked-up head.
Sure, there were times-mostly, though, he just wanted to see how much the world would let him push and laughed loud so everyone could hear.
***********
They all made it back to the library without incident, following Kiku’s sure-footed lead until they’re all sitting back at their desks, but Arthur’s head hadn’t stopped buzzing since they left the supply office.
Alfred was sitting down and looked just as tense and coiled as Arthur knew he felt himself and while Arthur was really trying to cut back on his smoking, he wanted a fag really bad right then. The smoke and nicotine helped clear his head when it got too bogged down with thoughts and memories and Arthur had way too many thoughts sprinting through his head after nearly kissing Alfred in the small, cramped office. Thoughts that were yelling how much of an idiot he was, thoughts that were demanding why this hadn’t happened sooner, thoughts that were questioning why the hell Alfred even liked him enough to kiss him, and thoughts that wanted him to climb over his desk, slide into Alfred’s lap and snog the fucking hell out of him. He rubbed at his temple and was saved from embarrassing himself by the arrival of Germania and Gilbert, the latter being led by a firm grip through the doors and then tossed towards his desk.
“It appears that your classmate found it amusing to break into the gym, steal some tennis rackets, and try playing basketball with them.” Germania was frowning deep at all of them, as if he was trying to figure out if it had been any of their idea to get Gilbert to do that. “As I’m sure is no surprise to you, you will be without his antics for the rest of the detention.”
Elizaveta tensed up and Arthur didn’t need to see her face to know that she didn’t like what Germania had said-what he was honestly a little surprised was how that had even happened between the pair of them at all. Sure, he could see that Gilbert had obviously been trying to get a rise out of her the same way a little boy pushed his crush down on the playground, but he hadn’t considered for a moment that Elizaveta Hedervary would actually return the feelings. Arthur shook his head and pressed at his temple harder; it was the fucking Saturday detention that was making them all barmy. There was something about being cooped up with each other that was changing how they saw one another. He wasn’t sure how happy he was about that (he didn’t want to see everyone outside of the role he’d given them, what they’d adopted for their peers, parents, and society), but he couldn’t deny it was happening.
“Excuse me, sir?” Kiku asked, softly. Germania turned to him and looked surprise that Kiku was saying anything at all (not that Arthur could blame him-Kiku had barely spoken until they’d absconded for Gilbert’s weed). “I know that Gilbert left when he shouldn’t have, but I think removing him from the library will only serve as a reward.”
They all blinked at Kiku, Germania included and he tilted his head towards Kiku in confusion. “Explain, Mr. Honda.”
“Well,” Kiku started with just the right amount of hesitancy. Arthur would’ve smiled and laughed at how crafty the little nerd was if he wasn’t trying to keep off Germania’s radar right then. “Well, before Gilbert left, he was yelling about how he didn’t want to stay here with us anymore and-and that he’d rather be in solitary isolation than stick around with, well, he called us some inappropriate names, Mr. Germania.”
Gilbert’s eyes lit up and he glared at Kiku and jerked a little in Germania’s hold. “Shut up, you stupid prick!”
“Mr. Beilschmidt, desist at once.” Germania glared at him and then appraised Kiku as if he was going to possibly end up with a beat up student if he left Gilbert with the rest of them. Obviously, he decided that he didn’t much care as long as he didn’t have to monitor Gilbert, so he nodded and steered Gilbert towards his desk. “Very well, thank you, Mr. Honda. Looks like your little plan didn’t work out too well, Mr. Beilschmidt. I think I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the afternoon with your peers.”
Gilbert grumbled and sank down into his seat with a convincing amount of disappointment. Germania glared at all of them once more before storming out and slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Gilbert perked back up and gave Kiku a big, shit-eating grin. “Well, didn’t know you had it in you, Honda, but not bad. Thanks.”
Kiku turned and nodded at Gilbert and Arthur wondered how much freer he looked than before, how much happier he looked. There was honestly something wrong with having detention all day on Saturdays-it was doing things to their heads. “You’re welcome. Thank you for earlier.”
Gilbert laughed and got up from his seat, stretching his arms up and over his head before he turned and sauntered (seriously, he bloody well sauntered like a tom cat in heat) towards Elizaveta. She must not have minded it though, because she was looking up at him coyly though her eyelashes-girls, honestly. Thank Christ he didn’t have any sisters and liked cock; Arthur was never going to understand how girls worked. Arthur glanced over at Alfred again and really wished he had kept the word cock out of his head because now that was all he was thinking about-bollocks.
“So, still got my doobage, princesss?” Elizaveta rolled her eyes but reached into her jacket and pulled out the bag.
“I can’t believe you used the word ‘doobage,’ Gilbert. That went out of style in the 1980s.” She smiled up at him as his fingers brushed over hers longer hand was necessary to grab the proffered baggie.
“Some words are timeless, no matter what you think,” he responded. “Now, I’m going to have a fucking smoke, and in the honor of our Fellowship of the Detention, you are all welcome to join me. Except you Arthur, since you were a disapproving shit before. But, I guess if you promise to stop being a lameass wuss, I could change my mind.”
“Jog on, you tosser.” Gilbert shrugged and reached into his backpack for some rolls and his lighter. Then, with a jaunty wave, he was headed off towards the back of the library, a place Arthur knew smelled permanently of pot because of how many students lit up back there. Their librarian (bless her, honestly) was a bit gullible and hadn’t quite cottoned on when it came to students’ voluntary activities in the library. It was a shame, but at least the books they were damaging and staining with smoke were the outdated encyclopedias that hadn’t been updated since 2005 and were therefore utterly useless to anyone.
Elizaveta glanced around the room before she got up and followed Gilbert back, which wasn’t a surprise (well, now it wasn’t). Kiku hesitated for a moment, but soon followed after her with his newfound adventurous streak shining through-that was a bit surprising. Kiku Honda going from straight-laced honors student who didn’t even litter (Arthur had seen him walk across the lunch quad to pick up a napkin that had blown past him…the napkin hadn’t even been his) to pot-smoking, detention cutting student was a little jarring. He shook his head and watched Kiku disappear down the hall. Which left him and Alfred alone. They glanced at each other and Alfred tilted his head back where the others had gone in silent question.
“So, um, did you wanna-?”
Arthur shook his head and finally gave into the urge to get out of his desk and slide into the seat beside Alfred. “I hate the smell of pot, and besides I believe we have a talk to have, don’t we?”
Alfred grinned a little shyly (and God above did it make him look like Arthur’s memories of him) and nodded, reaching over and taking Arthur’s hand in his own. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
*******
A Snippet of Elizaveta
If anyone had asked me five hours ago if I’d be smoking weed with Gilbert Beilschmidt and Kiku Honda, snickering about the likelihood of Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, who is still an asshole, making out on top of the library desks now that we’ve left them alone, I would have probably thought they’d gone crazy. And would’ve said something cruel too, I’m sure. Because I’m aware of my own faults enough to know that I’m a bitch about 80% of the time. But, not the point. The point is I would’ve never pictured or even given credence to me being in detention, smoking pot, and discussing our fellow detentionees’ sex lives and having fun doing so.
And yet, here I am.
Here I am surrounded by four people I was convinced I hated five hours ago and now I’ve told them some of my deepest secrets and fears. I’ve even kissed one of them.
And it was such a good kiss, the kind of kiss I used to imagine myself having when I was little and obsessed with Casablanca and how Humphrey Bogart kissed Ingrid Bergman. Because when he kissed her, it was with everything he had; all of his love, and anger, and sadness, and forgiveness all rolled up into one searing, passionate embrace that left his lady love swooning and weak-kneed. It was the sort of kiss that I’ve long since reconciled only existed in movies and fairytale books, but still, that’s how Gilbert kissed me. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to do it again. I do, I want to do it again so much that our lips are bruised and we’re so drunk off each other that we start to lose everything else. And I want to do lots of things other than kissing too, though I don’t know how much of that is the atmosphere talking but it feels like everything is a lot more possible than usual. Free-that’s a good, descriptive word to sum up the atmosphere.
Still, just because the atmosphere’s making me freer than I usually allow, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss Gilbert again (and other things).
Okay, enough of those thoughts, Liz. They’re talking to you and you can’t give all your cards away now, can you? “I’m sorry, zoning out-what did you ask?”
Gilbert and Kiku glance at each other and snicker (and wow it is really weird to watch Kiku snicker) before Gilbert scoots a little bit closer. Close enough that my knee his touching his and that really shouldn’t feel as thrilling as it does. I’m blaming it on the drugs and teenage hormones. “I asked if this is your first time smoking, princess.”
I smile at Gilbert and shake my head because honestly it isn’t my first time. Last year, when I was still trying to convince Roderich to date me, there’d been this party and there’d been weed and everyone else was trying it and I wasn’t about to bow out and give my friends a reason to mock me. You know, Arthur may be a dick but he probably had a point about choosing friends that actually like me-doing the simple thing however rarely works in the real world. I tap Gilbert’s leg with my fingers before I realize what I’m doing, but he doesn’t seem to mind so I don’t stop. “I don’t do it often though.”
Gilbert laughed, a rich, throaty sound and I want to crawl closer and wrap myself up in that laugh. “Well, Honda here is a cherry. First time. You should feel honored that we’re popping his Mary-Jane virginity. You like the hit, Honda?”
Kiku nods like he’s surrounded by molasses and he grins more open than anything I’ve seen from him. “It’s like lounging in the pool-things that don’t matter aren’t in my head.”
Gilbert laughs again and he sounds like he’s genuinely amused. “That’s a good way to put it, Honda, I’ll give you that.”
Kiku nods and stares up at the ceiling before closing his eyes-he looks like he’s meditating. Or like he’s about to go to sleep. I laugh, though it comes out closer to a snort, and lean forward so my forehead can rest on Gilbert’s shoulder. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy-it’s a little ironic that it’s happening in detention.
“So,” Gilbert starts. I blink up at him and wonder if his eyes are really blue underneath his red contacts. They look like they could be; I’ve always had a soft-spot for blue eyes. “Are you as surprised by that development as I am?”
He jerks his head back towards where we left Alfred and Arthur and I roll my eyes. “If by surprised you mean not at all, then yes, I am. They were always been closer than normal as kids-they’re like those neighborhood kids that are friends for years and then fall I love, get married, have two kids and a dog and end up pissing everyone else off because they found each other so easy. I guess the only thing I’m surprised by is that it took them so long to begin with, but that’s probably because Arthur’s a dick.”
“Or because his parents died.”
I nod, hating the uncomfortable swell of pity I get every time someone reminds me that it’s not as easy to hate Arthur Kirkland as I wish it was. “Or that.”
“Maybe finding your ‘soul-mate’ super young isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anyway-I mean, how much would it suck to see what someone was like as a kid, when everything is easier and you don’t have to give a shit about anything besides whether you want macaroni or hot dogs for dinner, and then see them turn into something else. Something a whole lot more fucked up. You’re stuck comparing the two versions stuck in your head for years and then eventually, it’s a toss-up whether you end up hating each other or sickeningly in love, as you so eloquently pointed out.”
“Everyone’s fucked up, Gilbert. It’s just a matter of degree and relativity.” He looks down at me and one side of his lips turn up in what is most possibly the gentlest look I’ve ever seen on his face before. And then we’re kissing again and I couldn’t care less that Kiku is five feet away, sleep-meditating or whatever or that we’re stuck in the middle of some epic love story between Alfred and Arthur or that Gilbert is the last sort of boy I should be kissing. I kiss him back and inhale the smoky air deep all the way until I feel like it’s in my bones.
I’m afraid I don’t want this to end.
******
To Alfred’s disappoint, Arthur really wanted to talk. Which was good and everything, but Alfred had kind of hoped that the talking could be either after or interspersed between some heavy making out. He kept his hands folded in front of him on the desk, where Arthur had settled across from him on the other side, and tried not to stare too obviously at him…or his lips. Alfred was pretty sure he was failing and failing hard, but Arthur either didn’t notice or was being uncharacteristically kind and not mentioning it (Alfred was leaning towards the not mentioning it). They hadn’t actually started talking, which was probably a big reason why Alfred felt so awkward just sitting there, playing with his hands and shooting looks up at Arthur every few seconds. Alfred wasn’t quite sure where to start-they did sort of have a lot to cover, with the whole ‘we-were-friends-for-years-then-your-parents-died-and-you-stomped-all-over-everyone-else-and-turned-in-to-a-really-sexy-asshole-that-apparently-wasn’t-as-big-of-a-dick-as-everyone-thought-you-were’ thing.
Alfred took a deep breath and blocked out the noticeable silence from the others, and decided to just bite the bullet. “So…”
Arthur snorted at that and Alfred scowled down because sure, not the best start but at least he broke their horribly charged and tense silence. Seriously, if they’d just started making out, it wouldn’t be this bad and he was pretty sure that they’d both be in a better mood to talk about all their shit after. “Whatever, man, you’re the one who said you wanted to talk and you’re just like sitting over there a million miles away.”
“This desk is barely three feet across, Alfred.” Arthur looked like he was torn between smiling at him or being annoyed with him and fuck if it didn’t make him look like a confused puppy. Or kitten. Or a confused baby animal of any kind and Christ, what was wrong with him? He needed to get a grip because he really shouldn’t find everything Arthur did cute or hot. Really, he shouldn’t-that was probably unhealthy in some way.
“Yeah, well, still feels weird just sitting here, staring at each other.” Alfred crossed his arms and leaned back a little, tipping his chair back so it was balancing on the back legs with his foot flexing on the floor. Arthur sighed and he got up from his seat and walked over to Alfred’s side, perching on the desk so that he was looking down at Alfred; he looked strangely reserved and more than a little cautious.
“This isn’t easy for me to start but-I suppose we can start with the question whether you are looking for something beyond a fuck or not.”
Alfred almost tipped backwards in the chair and the only reason he didn’t was because Arthur’s hand shot out and grabbed his shoulder before he went tumbling. He blinked up at him and wished he didn’t feel a heartbroken as he did by how bluntly Arthur had asked that. “What I-fuck man, you got a hell of a way of saying stuff. Why would you-why would you think that the only thing I’m interested in was to bang you? I just-I mean I said earlier that I hadn’t even-I don’t know why I haven’t before but I was obviously waiting for something, not just to have some one night stand!”
Arthur let go of his shoulder and his fingers tapped nervously across his thigh; Alfred had to focus to not look (and to not replace Arthur’s fingers with his own). He looked really confused, like he couldn’t quite figure out a math theorem when the answer was supposed to be simple. “So you’ve been waiting all this time and think that I’m a good idea?”
Alfred shrugged because he didn’t think that was quite it but he didn’t have another answer to give. He tried though. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it even matters that much because it’s just sex and whatever but I-I don’t want to just fuck you. I want more than that. Like, dating?”
Arthur tipped his head back and laughed, but it was this horrible, helpless laugh that made Alfred want to reach out and grab him before he pulled too far away. “Why would you want anything like that with me, Alfred? I think out of all the people I’ve mistreated over the years, because I can be a right tosser when I want to, the way I’ve treated you has been amongst my worst behavior.”
“That wasn’t-you haven’t been that bad, and yeah, I’m still kinda pissed that you cut me out when we were kids, but I get that you were dealing with a whole lot of shit and-”
“You shouldn’t make excuses for me, Alfred.” His words were low and harsh; Arthur had turned completely away from him and his hands were clenched white. Alfred stared at him and felt like someone had punched him in the gut because none of that disgust or anger in Arthur’s voice was directed at him. It was all for himself, and fuck it sounded like it’d been there for a while. “I’m not the child you used to play with anymore and you shouldn’t keep thinking I am.”
Alfred glared and pushed out of his seat; he moved so that he was standing in front of Arthur because he sure as fuck wasn’t going to get avoided when Arthur was sitting right fucking there. “You know what, no, you don’t get to chicken-shit out of this fucking conversation when this was all your idea in the first place! This is why I didn’t want to have this out here, because I do know you, Arthur, and I know this is exactly how you always fucking act whenever you feel like you’re getting threatened or whatever. Why is it so hard to think that I could really are about you just because you’re a dick? I’m not the nicest guy either, nobody is all of the time, and you’re not as big of an ass as you try to be-if you were, this entire day would’ve gone a lot differently.”
Alfred was trying really hard not to yell because as much as he wanted to, he didn’t really need the others (who were high yeah, but not deaf) hearing all of his and Arthur’s dirty, proverbial laundry. But Arthur just-he made him so mad sometimes. When he’d been a kid and Arthur had yelled at him and pushed him away until eventually Alfred left, he’d been mad and hadn’t really understood all of what was going on. It was hard for a kid to get what death could do to a person. As he got older, it changed gradually into something else that wasn’t quite anger, at least not all the time. He got it better, got what losing your parents could do to you, and didn’t like that Arthur became such a mean person, but he’d known deep down, even then, that a lot of the meanness was a front.
When Alfred was around nine, he’d accidentally broken a vase in Arthur’s house. It wasn’t a very nice looking vase (and over the years it got uglier and uglier in his head) and it had been in the stupidest spot near the hall, right where hyperactive nine year-olds like to run by, but still, he’d broken it. He had started crying when Arthur came up to see what had caused the noise and had blubbered about how he was going to get grounded and that he wouldn’t be allowed over and a whole bunch of other crap. Arthur had just stared at the broken vase, silent, until his mom came around the corner, her face already set in a frown before she saw the mess on the floor. But, instead of telling the truth about what happened, Arthur smacked him on the arm and started yelling about how Alfred was a scaredy-cat just because Arthur had knocked over the vase. He’d been mean and snotty and had convinced his mom that it had been him, not Alfred, who broke the vase, all while Alfred had sniffled at him, confused as to what had happened.
Later on, he found out that Arthur had been punished to do the yard work, and when he went over to help (because he felt bad Arthur had gotten in trouble instead of him, even if he had yelled at him a lot), Arthur had smiled at him shyly and told him he had just pretended to be mad to get him out of trouble. He had to be convincing, he’d told Alfred with as much conviction a ten year old could muster, and then thanked him for breaking the vase because it was ‘a stupid old thing’ anyway. No matter what Arthur did, no matter what how angry he acted or convinced everyone else he was, that memory stuck with Alfred and told him better. Arthur was an excellent actor and that hadn’t changed very much as he got older-he’d just refined his technique.
“Listen I-I can’t tell you why I want more than just some random hook-up or why being around you makes me feel weird or why it matters to me what you think about me or think about when you see me, but I know that it does. And I think that it might matter to you too, so, I’m gonna do what I wanted to do like twenty minutes ago and you are going to deal with it, or like punch me in the face if you really don’t want to!”
And, with that, he leaned in and kissed Arthur.
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