Alfred looked at his schedule for the fifth time that day, going over the classes he had been assigned for his junior year with an uncharacteristic frown on his face. He had known when he went to the counselor for scheduling the previous year that he still had a few requirements to take (especially with his chosen profession – science wasn't exactly an easy field to get into), but that didn't mean he wasn't still upset that they had replaced his theatre class with AP chemistry. Mr. Turner had nearly cried when he heard the news that one of his favorite students couldn't take his class, but what could Alfred do? He had dreamed of teaching science since he was 8, and he couldn't stop now just because there was a scheduling conflict.

Or the fact that he had just been saddled with one of the hardest teachers at his school.

Alfred sighed and slammed his face down onto the table he was seated at, jostling one of the piles of miscellaneous wood blocks that sat around his shop-class homeroom. His brother Matthew looked up in alarm, halting in the middle of his conversation with Alfred's soft-spoken best friend Kiku. Matt sent him a questioning glance, which soon turned into a groan of exasperation when he saw the paper clutched in his twin's hand.

"This again, Al? Come on, you've known about this for months. There's no reason to get upset about it now."

Alfred shoved himself upright and looked over at his brother in disbelief. "Well yeah, I knew about the whole theatre thing, but I didn't know about this!"

Matthew leaned over as Alfred pointed an accusatory finger at the section labeled 'AP Chemistry' on his schedule. "What are you even talking about?"

Alfred's movements somehow managed to become even more exaggerated as he pointed once more towards the paper. "This! I thought that there was another teacher for AP chem, that maybe I'd get lucky, but nope! I've got Brewer."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "And what's so bad about Mr. Brewer? I had him for earth science and he was perfectly nice."

A look of horror passed across Alfred's face. "No man, you don't understand. I've heard that not a single person has ever gotten an A in his class. Like, ever. This is just like having only three hearts left when the boss battle starts Mattie! And I don't even have any power ups!"

"Okay…?" Matthew questioned, a confused look on his face, "Aside from whatever that was supposed to mean, there's got to be a bright side, right? Maybe your lab partner will let you cheat off them or something."

Alfred perked up at the suggestion. Of course, a hero like him would never cheat off another student, but he had totally forgotten that he'd have a lab partner. There was something especially exciting about the prospect of making a new friend that he could hang out with the whole year and do cool experiments with. Hell, they might even be someone who understood the material well enough to tutor him! That way, there was no way he could fail the class!

"Aw, Mattie, you always know what to say!" Alfred exclaimed, hastily throwing his arms around his brother before gathering up his things and practically running out the door.

"Alfred-san," Kiku called after him, "The bell hasn't even rung yet!"

Alfred sat in one of blue swivel chairs, leg bouncing up and down nervously as he waited for class to start. He had been hoping that he would be in this class with at least one person he knew, but at that point it seemed pretty obvious to him that that would be impossible. He chanced another glance at the door, hoping that somebody would walk in (and he meant that literally – anybody would be preferable to sitting in an empty classroom by himself). Another peek at his schedule confirmed that yes, he was in the right room, but with only two minutes left until class was supposed to start he was wondering if there was some major typo on the paper beside him.

A few seconds later, people finally began shuffling into the room, books in hand. Alfred flashed a bright smile and a wave at the newcomers, but only a few of them even acknowledged his presence. He looked around as they each picked one of the five tables to shove their things at, feeling a slight pang of disappointment as he was left all alone at his table once they had all entered the classroom. He tried to tell himself that that was just fine, considering that only 6 people had walked into the classroom (and most of them seemed to know each other already – at least, they were in two groups of 'knowing each other'). But as time continued to tick by Alfred realized that nobody else was going to walk in, and that either he would be stuck at this table by himself or he'd have to deal with the teacher placing him in a group that most likely didn't want him there.

Just as the bell rang, a door on the left side of the classroom that he hadn't noticed was nearly slammed open, and a man he presumed to be Mr. Brewer rushed in. He was carrying a large stack of sickeningly yellow paper that he then began passing around to the students (who soon came to realize that what appeared to be a large stack of a singular paper turned out to be a relatively small stack of a very intimidating syllabus). Alfred's eyes widened as he was handed his, flipping through the nearly 30-page packet with trepidation. How were they supposed to get through all of this by the end of the year?

As Alfred began to question his entire career choice, Mr. Brewer pulled out his own copy of the syllabus and started to introduce himself (Alfred couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the usual 'welcome to your new class' speech – he was busy staring at the year's plan with undisclosed horror). A quick look up from the packet in his hands showed the relatively young teacher leaning jauntily across the classroom's lab counter. At least he doesn't seem evil, he thought to himself as he watched him smile and crack jokes with his new students. Alfred's ears perked up when there was a mention of food in the conversation, and he finally decided to zone back in.

"…so after every test, we bring food into the classroom to celebrate. Or mourn. Depends on the test." Mr. Brewer grinned as a general snicker went around the room, and Alfred sat up a little straighter. Eating after a test? Now there was some chemistry he could really get behind. Say what you want about Alfred F. Jones, but he never turned down a good meal (especially when that meal was something other than cafeteria food at school – in small-town America, it practically made you a god).

"Oh!" Mr. Brewer exclaimed, hastily turning around and making his way back to his computer, "I almost forgot to take attendance. Just say 'here' when I call out your name, alright? So, Gilbert Beilschmidt-"

"I'm not here!" An accented voice called from across the room, followed by a round of giggles from the two students sitting beside him and a scoff from a young woman at the next table over.

"Very funny, Mr. Beilschmidt," Mr. Brewer chuckled, "But I believe you just gave yourself away." A few snickers came from the table now, and Gilbert promptly smacked them before muttering something about 'his awesomeness'.

"Francis Bonnefoy."

"Here."

"Katyusha Braginski."

"Here."

"Antonio Carriedo."

"Here."

"Elizaveta Hedevary."

"Here."

"Alfred Jones."

Alfred flashed his signature smile and turned a little in his seat to see the teacher before letting out a booming, "The hero is HERE!" that went largely unnoticed.

"Arthur Kirkland."

Silence filled the room. Now here was a point of interest, and the students all gazed around curiously as if one of them were Arthur and just refused to admit it. But as the seconds ticked by, it was clear that whoever he was, he wasn't there.

"Absent then. And Lili Zwingli."

"Here."

Mr. Brewer stood up from his computer, brushing off his pants and making his way back towards the front of the room. "Alright then, that seems to be everyone. Now if you'll open your syllabus to page-"

A loud crash was heard from outside the classroom, accompanied by what those nearest it would understand to be copious amounts of swearing. Mr. Brewer quickly hurried towards the door, opening it to find a young man on his hands and knees, rubbing his face with one hand and attempting to pick up a stack of books with the other. He looked up as the door opened, face reddening in embarrassment as he gathered his things and quickly stood up to face the teacher.

"I take it you're Mr. Kirkland then?" Mr. Brewer said with no small amount of amusement. A quick nod came from the teenager. "Well, come on in and have a seat. We were just about to go over the syllabus, so I think you'll pick things up pretty quickly from here."

Another nod, and suddenly the boy was shoving his things next to Alfred and sitting himself into one of the blue swivel chairs that surrounded their table. Alfred flashed a quick grin at the obviously flustered young man before whispering, "Hi! My name's Alfred F. Jones!" His attempt at friendliness was met with a glare as Arthur scooted his chair a little further away from him. Alfred didn't really mind though. In all truthfulness, he was just glad that he wouldn't have to sit alone.

"I'd ask your name, but I already kinda figured out that it's Arthur." Alfred whispered again, and again Arthur scowled in his general direction (his eyes never actually left the teacher). "I've never seen you before, what grade are you in?"

Another few seconds went by without a response and Alfred pouted, not prepared to be ignored. He leaned over slightly so that he could get even closer to the young man and opened his mouth to speak before Arthur turned hastily to face him.

"If you don't shut up in the next 30 seconds, I will personally castrate you." He whispered furiously, eyes flickering hurriedly towards the teacher and back again, "I already missed half of this class and I refuse to miss any more vital information about this course because of your incessant whining."

With that, Arthur turned back towards the front of the classroom with a barely concealed huff, leaving Alfred to stare dumbstuck back at him. It was a good few seconds before Alfred came back to his senses, letting out in an awe-stuck and admittedly louder-than-planned tone of voice, "Holy shit, you're British?"

Mr. Brewer glanced over to their table with a disapproving frown, causing Arthur's face (which had just been cooling down from his previous embarrassment) to flush a shade of red Alfred had only ever seen in kool-aid. Well that can't be healthy, he thought with a small chuckle before remembering exactly why he was so embarrassed. Alfred allowed a sheepish look to fall onto his face before gazing up at the chemistry teacher.

"I should hope you aren't holding a discussion while I'm talking, Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland." Mr. Brewer looked down at them from his place at the front of the classroom. "After all, this is a rigorous course designed only for those with intentions to work their hardest, and if you plan on slacking off I have no qualms with having you drop the class, understood?"

Both boys nodded furiously at the teacher, assuring him that they would be model students for the rest of the course. It was only after Mr. Brewer had turned to face the other half of the classroom, however, that Arthur sent him a quick peace sign under the table (although the force of the action and the look on his face could only mean that that was the British version of flipping him off).

It was going to be a long year.

So I'm finally starting this au! I've wanted to write this ever since I finished AP Chem, so rest assured that all the information will (probably) be correct! All of the teachers in this are oc's, mostly because I don't hate any Hetalia character enough to make them teach the worst subject ever created. I hope you liked the first chapter of what will (hopefully) be many!

~Alix Marie