-Check Yes Or No-

Notes: Since this is AU, a few characters are related to characters they initially were not. I also changed their ages around a bit, so they're not historically accurate in any way. And Ukraine has no real name, so I used a fan favorite for her.

For future reference, here are Antonio's Spanish lines:

Acata, por favor = Pay attention, please.

El cerebritos = The brains. (The "nerds", in other words.)


~*Chapter One*~

"History, blah blah blah, wars, blab blab, colonies, all-that-historic-crap-you-could-be-learning-the-fun-way-by-watching-Hetalia-instead-of-listening-to-your-boring-history-teacher, weaponry, drone drone..."

Arthur Kirkland sighed, sinking lower into his chair. Why did history class have to be so damned boring all the time? he thought, rolling his eyes.

The teacher continued lecturing as Arthur's gaze flickered from the ceiling to the boy that sat to his immediate right. Gilbert Beillschmidt. That was his name. He was at least two years older than Arthur, having failed a grade somewhere along in elementary for starting fist fights with kids and talking back to the teachers. In all honesty, Arthur was amazed that the kid hadn't just been expelled. Probably because his adoptive parents - whose names escaped Arthur, but he knew one was a famous pianist - were freaking rich and could afford to bribe the principal into letting him stay. If that were true, apparently failing him was fine, still. As long as the kid wasn't sitting at home with them, terrorizing the family pets or whatever it was Gilbert did, right?

After a minute or two, Gilbert felt him staring and looked over at him, red eyes ablaze. "What the fuck are you looking at, you stupid English tart?" he hissed, shoving his hands in the pocket on the front of his gray hoodie.

The only thing Arthur could think of to say was "God, I hope you don't have any sharp objects with you," but that wouldn't be a particularly smart thing to say. Especially if he did have any.

"The air," replied Arthur lamely, hoping that the bell would ring so he could jet if Gilbert tried to stab him or something.

Instead of harming him bodily, the boy simply narrowed his eyes, mumbled something under his breath, and turned back to writing obscene phrases on his desk with a maroon-colored Sharpie.

Arthur sighed in relief, quickly averting his eyes and shifting his gaze to his other side. The girl to his left was considerably sweeter, though she was very shy and therefore didn't talk much. In fact, she talked to him so little that he could count how many facts he knew about her on one hand. One, her name was Yekatarina Braginski. Two, her brother and sister were each the notorious bully in their grade level. (Arthur knew her brother, Ivan, very well for said reason.) Three, she had huge boobs, but everyone knew that, so he wasn't sure if that one counted. Four, she was a Russian farmer, but if it weren't for her accent, Arthur would've thought she was an American hick. And five, she was a year younger than him, but because of her academic skills, she was in some of the advanced twelfth-grade classes instead of eleventh.

The blond-haired boy sighed again, decidedly spending the rest of his time counting the seconds until the bell rang. As luck would have it, he only had three minutes left; apparently, naming off stats about the classmates that flanked him had taken up a solid ten minutes.

Three minutes to go - thank goodness!

His readiness to leave the classroom distracted him from the fact that the boy in front of him - his name was Antonio something, but Arthur was definitely too distracted to go into Stat Mode on him at the moment - had passed a folded-up piece of paper back to his desk.

"Arthur," he whispered after realizing that the kid hadn't seen it. "Acata, por favor, you have a note."

"Huh?" Arthur snapped out of his daze and looked at Antonio. "What?"

The latter smiled. "Lucky you, you have a Check-Yes-Or-No note! Those things are rare for el cerebritos like you, so I'd be very happy."

The blonde felt his jaw tighten as he started to grit his teeth, but said nothing as he reached out for the note. Immediately, Antonio handed it to him.

A few seconds passed, and the Spanish boy hadn't turned back around, so Arthur gave him his best annoyed look and said, "Piss off, Handy Manny."

Antonio just blinked, his expression amused rather than hurt, then presently turned around, giggling to himself.

Slowly, Arthur opened it up, rather afraid it would be some sort of gag joke like last time, where it turned out that the paper had said The Game on it, and that he'd have to admit it aloud in the middle of math class. He did, and that had ended with a warning for class disruption.

The moment he had finished reading the front of the note currently in his hands, he had to reread it at least four times for it to finally hit him.

Bloody hell... It's a Check-Yes-Or-No note from the most popular boy in school... His heart started to pound, threatening to jump into his throat at any given second.


check yes or no

wuld u wanna go out friday nite?


With language that butchered, Alfred didn't even have to sign it for Arthur to know it was him. Still, the prospect of Alfred fucking Jones passing him a Check-Yes-Or-No note was enough to make a kid pinch himself to ensure he wasn't dreaming. Which he did. Several times. And, sure enough, he was still sitting in a classroom full of homicidal and/or annoying-as-hell students.

But that also meant that the note was real, too. And Arthur, though he didn't really believe it one-hundred percent, knew it couldn't be a total hoax, because Alfred wasn't actually downright mean, and wouldn't do that, and if someone else tried to forge the note, well... Alfred didn't take kindly to people posing as him. So that meant...

As quickly and inconspicuously as he could, Arthur grabbed his pencil and checked the box that read yes. Then, shakily, he tapped the folded paper on Antonio's shoulder.

The Spanish boy took the note, handed it to the girl in front of him, and then turned back around, leaning his arm on his chairhead. "Who was it from?" he asked, a grin on his face. "Francis?"

"No!" Arthur hissed, blushing a dark red. His hands occupied themselves adjusting his tie as an excuse to not grab Antonio's throat.

Thank God it wasn't from Francis.

Francis Bonnefoy was a pervert, he mentally profiled. He had time enough for that one, because it pretty much summed up Francis entirely. Or, at least, as much as Arthur cared to summarize.

"It was who, then?"

"Your grammar is terrible," was all the embarrassed blonde could manage.

"I wasn't born here," replied Antonio, rolling his eyes. "That was rude."

"Sorry. Whatever."

Arthur was all too glad when the bell finally rang. He rocketed out of his seat, nearly forgetting his backpack in his haste and walking a few steps back through a mob of children to retrieve it. By the time he'd made it back to his seat, everyone else had already evacuated the room.

"Crazy wankers," he muttered under his breath.

"Hey," someone from the doorway said. "Arthur, hurry up, aru! Remember, we're supposed to have lunch together today?"

"I'm coming, Yao," Arthur responded, hoisting the black bag over his shoulder.

Yao Wang was, in simplest terms, Arthur's best friend. They hung out frequently, had similar interests, etc. But, of course, there were big differences between them, namely popularity rank. Yao was pretty much Arthur's only friend, while Yao had so many, just his close ones took up two entire tables when they sat together in the cafeteria. That wouldn't have been so bad if they'd taken up the four-seater tables by the walls, but no, they sat at the middle tables - the ones that sat up to seven people.

The boys made their way through the hallway, saying virtually nothing until Yao stopped at his locker. "I have to put my book up, aru. I did some last-minute studying." He dialed the combo, stuffed his science textbook in, and closed it up in less than six seconds. "Okay, finished, aru."

"All right... So, who's buying today?"

"Actually..." Yao blushed, quickly beginning to walk again. "I was hoping we could have dinner at my place today, aru."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. (Or raised six of his eyebrows on one side. Whatever.) "Why do you look so embarrassed?" he inquired, jogging to keep up.

"N-no reason, aru. But while we're at it, someone else wants to-"

The blonde cut him off with a theatrical groan. "You invited Ivan, didn't you?"

"W-well, he more or less invited himself, aru."

"Need I remind you that - slow down! - that Ivan was the one who had smashed my head against the bathroom mirror the day we met when you had to take me to the clinic?"

"Yes, aru," admitted Yao, pursing his lips.

Arthur sighed. "This is going to be more than a little awkward. Not to mention dangerous."

"I will make sure he doesn't hurt you, aru."

"You had better."

They made it outside and over to the brunette's red Cadillac, where Arthur stood behind Yao as the latter opened the back door and tossed his backpack into the backseat.

Around them, the wind blew so wildly it lifted Yao's ponytail as he turned around, causing it to smack Arthur straight in the face. So, while Arthur spit and tried to pull a strand of ash-brown hair off of his tongue, Yao gave him a funny look and said, "What are you doing, aru?"

Before the boy could reply, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he suddenly felt very, very cold.