Hello! This is my first fanfiction everrrrr! Kay so I plan that this story will go on for a while... hopefully, and i know, i know it's kinda slow right now but i'm like one of those people who likes to kinda lay everything out and set the plot up... aka i like to introduce people kay. Something that you should know is that i have taken the liberty of changing some people's human names... like Iceland's... but you will know who's who so it'll be chill! So anyways i will be updating this story every monday evening (life permitting) so if anyone out there is actually crazy enough to want to follow this story, be my guest!

Thanks to my Austria and Hungary for editing! Love you two!

Pairings! America-England, Prussia-Canada, Denmark-Norway, Germany-Italy, Hong Kong-Iceland, Lithuania-Poland, Austria-Hungary, Latvia-Liechtenstein, Spain-Romano, Japan-Taiwan, Netherlands-Belgium, Sweden-Finland, France-Seychelles... i don't have my list with me so yeah, if i missed people i'll let you know!

Disclaimer: I own nothing 'cept the plot!

~Gilbert~

The Academy had been open for four years now. It still amazed me sometimes that my class, the very first class to attend all four years here, would be graduating. It really hadn't felt like that long ago I'd received a letter in the mail inviting me to come and attend this strange place they called the World Academy in the US. America's way of trying to show they weren't a bunch of racist, bigoted assholes I guess. It was supposed to teach us a better understanding of the world and its cultures and make us into world leaders or some shit, though I couldn't understand how that worked whilst we're all over here getting Americanized or whatever. At any rate, there was this big test you could take if you wanted to go and since I was so awesome of course I went and passed. Simply it was for the joys of getting away from my too rich parents that I actually decided to come to this damn school, it wasn't like they'd miss me… or even notice I was gone for that matter.

So there were only a few key rules to this place:

1.)Student must maintain at least a C average. If Student fails to maintain this average for two consecutive semesters, he/she will be removed from campus and deported to home country.

2.)If Student earns twenty demerits or more, Student will be removed from campus and be deported to home country.

3.)Student will remain in his/her own dormitory room during posted hours. Student may or may not be removed from campus and deported to home country at discretion of the Dean.

4.)Student will not leave campus during posted hours. Student will be removed from campus and deported to home country if caught not following this rule.

5.)Student will not intentionally offend another Student's country in any way. Immediate removal from campus and deportation to home country will be enforced.

So yeah pretty laid-back right? Even an idiot could get through four years of this place right? I mean how hard was it to avoid those really nasty ones that resulted in deportation? I will tell you something, for a first year and someone of lesser awesome-value than I (AKA everyone in this entire fucking universe), those rules were super hard to follow and/or not get caught when breaking them. There had been many, many close calls back in my early days here at the Academy, but that was all behind me now. I was a senior dammit, and with that power came with the ability to do whatever the fuck I wanted. So if I wanted to make fun of that kid from China's last name then by gott I was gonna do it. Could you really blame me though? Seriously you can't go to a high school full of teenagers from different countries and expect your last name of Wang to not get made fun of.

Anyways I was standing outside of the bus waiting for all my shit to be unloaded looking fucking awesome as hell with my black wayfarers and red and black checked scarf wrapped loosely around my neck, my white earbuds standing out against my black t-shirt and red hoodie. I looked around at all the other students rushing around reuniting themselves with one another, all the different languages mixing together like some colossal train wreck. Only to myself would I ever admit how much I would miss this place after this year.

"Gilbert!" I looked up from the phone I'd pulled from my pocket to busy myself with to see a very much-welcomed sight strolling towards me in that casual Spanish way of his. I think he'd grown taller since he'd visited me in Berlin back in July, but other than that it was the same Antonio, one tanned hand raised and bright-white smile directed towards me.

"Hey Toni!" I called happily as I pushed myself from the bus to run up to hug him. Now I know what you're thinking: "A German hugging? Really?" Well you read right my friends. With best friends from the countries of "Passion" and "L'Amour", a German quickly sheds that frigid way of "Guten Tag" and a handshake pretty fast.

"How've you been amigo?" Antonio asked when we broke the hug. Though like I said we'd just seen each other about two months ago in Berlin and had texted/skyped/facebooked/whatever practically everyday since, it was still nice to see the actual embodiment of the Spaniard. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo just carried about this certain warmth, like sunshine I guess, a warmth that I wasn't ashamed to admit I missed when I returned to the cold confines of Germany.

"Meh, I can't complain I guess. Don't tell anyone but…" I looked around and made a big show of whispering in his ear. "I'm actually glad to be back in the States." Toni just kept on smiling at me.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert just admit it, you've fallen in love with this country in all its deep fried glory!" I snorted in contempt but said nothing to dissuade that ridiculous notion as I went about the painful task of searching through the sea of luggage for my own. "By the way have you seen Francis yet?" I rolled my eyes at my best friend and looked over the rim of my awesome-and-so-not-overpriced-Ray Bans at him.

"Toni I just got here, of course I haven't seen Francis yet." Antonio's smile only got bigger.

"Haha oh yeah I guess that would make sense!" oh Antonio you absent minded Spaniard you.

"Gilbert!" yet again I rolled my eyes, only this time it was directed at someone entirely different. The gruff voice that called my name belonged to the only person who could ever get away with calling me in that fashion, the tall blond boy with the steely cold blue eyes and a severe fetish for all that was proper and organized in this world.

Yes my little bruder Ludwig really knew how to push my buttons, like when he used that gruff commanding tone with me, and acted like he was the older more responsible of the two of us, but as I turned to glare at him and make some smart comment about a certain incident over the summer that occurred on our family's vacation to a certain country, I saw him standing there with our bags. Glare turned to grin almost instantaneously.

"Right on West!" I could tell he was stifling a groan as I practically ran towards him with Antonio in tow. Like all good bruders yes, I loved Ludwig very much and unconditionally, but in the true spirit of bruders I really just loved to annoy the hell out of him.

I grabbed my bag from his feet and smirked. "Better run along and find that little Italian of yours before he gets himself into trouble." Leaving him spluttering and red-faced Toni and I took off running towards the dorms.

~Matthieu~

"Mattie c'mon let's go! You'll be fine dude!" Alfred just loved to drag me around places. Of course he would, I was the younger twin by five minutes and was virtually invisible to everyone. Which actually proved to be a very helpful trait in hockey season, but off the ice… god it was annoying. But then there was Alfred F. Jones. He meant well, he really did but… he treated my like I was five years old, not five minutes younger.

It was understandable though I suppose. Alfred had this like massive hero complex, too many fairy tales when we were little maybe, but whatever the reason he thought he was everyone's personal Superman. That and the fact that when our parents divorced when we were eight and I moved with mom to Canada we got to actually see each other maybe three or four times a year. And you know how older brothers can be. At any rate it had taken Alfred two years of constant whining—But Mattie its in America your home! Don't you miss it Mattie? We could be together just like normal twins! There are tons of hot chicks here Mattie!—until I'd finally given in and taken that stupid entrance exam. And no, it wasn't the "hot chicks" that eventually got me to do it! Honestly that statement coming from him of all people simply made me laugh out loud. Seriously Al, just cause I never see you doesn't mean that I'm not observant… prick… okay maybe I didn't mean that. So anyways, it was the "normal twins" part that really got to me. Yeah it wasn't my fault mom and dad had gotten that divorce, and I certainly wasn't going to complain when mom wanted me to come with her and not Alfred, but still. I could call more… hell I could even Facebook him more often, and Skype wasn't too bad of an option either… so maybe all that kinda got to me a little bit. So what? He was my twin, sure he was annoying and obnoxious and loved to make fun of my beloved country and its choices in sporting events and how we chose to handle ourselves during such sporting events (hey it wasn't like American Football fans couldn't be blamed for the same damn actions I mean really even NASCAR fans had more class than them sometimes!) but somewhere through pinpointing all of Alfred's faults, I realized that I really should take the opportunity to live with my twin.

But I'd forgotten how clingy the kid could be.

He was currently dragging—no literally dragging—me across campus with our things heading for the dorms. Of course now would be the time people chose to actually notice me. People were laughing, actually laughing at the sight we made: The happy-go-lucky American tugging the poor red-faced Canadian kid. God I wanted to go home. Home where it smelled like maple, and I could speak French—English was the only language we were supposed to speak here—and every season was hockey season, and—

Wham!

Dazed I shook my head a little and noticed I was now on the ground. "Hey watch where the fuck you're going you—" bewildered I followed the sound of the angry German accent up, up, up to a very pale kid with disconcerting reddish eyes and silvery hair. He too looked as if he didn't know what hit him—literally— as he looked between Alfred and I.

"Oh hey Gil wassup?" Alfred asked effectively cutting off the tirade that was sure to ensue.

"Amigo is it just me or am I seeing double?" a Spanish accent chuckled from the really tan kid standing next to Angry-German… or maybe he wasn't that tan it was just because he was standing next to the ghostly pallor of Angry-German… or maybe Angry-German just looked pale cause he was standing next to Happy-Spanish-Kid…

"Haha! Antonio you're so funny dude! No this is my little brother Mattie, he's from Canada!" Alfred explained as he picked me up off the ground, dusting me off and making me blush and the duo's eyes followed our every move. The Happy-Spa—err, Antonio put his hand on the Angry-German(who must have been this "Gil" Alfred spoke of by process of elimination)'s shoulder and crossed his one foot over the other, smiling brightly he winked up at "Gil" who still looked shell-shocked.

"Hear that Gilbert, little brother." Alfred grinned and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Yup that's right!" I rolled my eyes and promptly removed Alfred's arm. I didn't know why but I just couldn't sit back and let myself seem inferior to these people. It was like a base instinct of fight or flight or something…

"Yes, little by five minutes Alfred." I grumbled as I grabbed my messenger bag off the ground. Antonio's expression didn't change but after a swift shake of the head, Gilbert's stunned mask turned into a cocky smirk which when he turned fully on me sent shivers down my spine.

"Oh well I'm sure we'll see you two around." He glanced to Antonio who was still smiling in an almost Cheshire way. "C'mon Antonio we should go find Francis before he has a total meltdown." And with that they left, the sound of the Spaniard's musical laughter echoing behind.

"Who in the name of Maple were those two?" I asked looking at Alfred as he looked after them with a frown on his face.

"Two thirds of what we call here at WA the Bad Touch Trio." I gaped at him.

"The wha?" to that he chuckled and began to lead me, at a slightly more reasonable pace, across campus again.

"Bad Touch Trio, Antonio Carriedo the Spanish dude, that perverted cousin of yours Francis, and Gilbert Beilschmidt the Ger—ah Prussian."

"Prussian?" Alfred snorted at my sarcastic tone.

"Yeah apparently his dad's side is from what was Prussia or something weird like that and he just prefers that side I guess." His face took on a hint of seriousness, something rare for Alfred. "Do me a favor and steer clear of them kay?" to this I actually laughed out loud.

"Al I'm not five eh? I can take care of myself, and besides you seemed to be pretty good buds with them."

"Mattie trust me," he tugged on the sleeve of my Canadiens jersey to reinforce his pleading. "They're bad news." Alfred's cerulean eyes held nothing but sincerity, and yes okay, I did have a soft spot for my ridiculous American brother. So I sighed and patted his arm, told him I'd stay away from the Bad Trick Three or whatever they were called… but even still I couldn't help but glance behind us and marvel at the retreating figure that both scared and intrigued me.

Just who was this Gilbert Beilschmidt and how had he earned this title of "bad news" from my hero of a brother?