A/N: This is a little thing to work on between Writer's Block. I'm almost done with Lost in the Abyss chapter 4, but it seems to be a little awkward. I'll go over it once I get it out of my head. I just can't edit when I know it is my work. So, I'll work on this lil thing. Enjoy~

Alfred leaned back in his chair as the teacher droned on about literature. Mr. Kirkland was so boring, all business like and a 'gentleman'. He had a heavy British accent, but it wasn't unusual since he was in London for his schooling. Actually, he was a foreign exchange student and living with Mr. Kirkland. That wasn't weird at all . . . The guy was single and not really good at relating to children, even worse they were related. You totally couldn't tell since the Brit seemed to always have a persistent stick up his ass. Was the guy ever young? That would be a question never to be answered; but he could be a kid at heart. Like a little kid. Arthur Kirkland was a fairy nut, thinking they were real and talking to the air. It was seriously embarrassing, but since Arthur didn't understand that, Alfred felt embarrassed for him. But seriously, Americans would never be embarrassed unless it was to help someone else. Yeah, totally! They weren't the heroes of the world for nothing man!

Still, Alfred couldn't help but be glad that he wouldn't be the only one with the somewhat disturbing man after school. Some other exchange student was coming to live with them, YEEEEEEEESSSSSS! He really hoped it was some other cool American, or maybe a Japanese boy? Then again, a girl would be even better! Someone hot to flirt with, ya know?

Finally the bell rang and Alfred was stuffing everything into his bag. The kids practically ran out to their waiting cars. The American boy ran over to Arthur, "Come on old man! We gotta get home! The other exchange student is coming, isn't she!" Oops.

"She?" the teacher raised one bushy eyebrow, "What were you thinking about this entire class period? Not anything I was teaching I'm sure."

"S-sorry, got ahead of myself." Alfred wished he could shrink. That was embarrassing, but he was American, he's not supposed to be embarrassed. Okay, he needed to remember reality from fairyland.

Arthur patted his head, "Don't worry, the new student shouldn't be here until dinner; which gives you plenty of time to do your homework."

Damn it.

It was raining. This city was such a dreary place. The temperatures were low, but it was okay. At least there wasn't much snow to be expected.

Alfred finished his homework in record time, much to Arthur's astonishment, which still left him time to jump off the walls in anticipation. Finally, just as Arthur set the table for three, the bell rang. Even before the teacher could look up, Alfred assured him he had the door. The Englishman scoffed; he knew the only thing Alfred hoped for was some Japanese girl to be waiting on the doorstep.

The American boy threw open the door, "Hello gorg- . . ."

At opening the door, he was met with a boy, slightly taller than himself with procaine blonde hair and violet eyes gazed down at him with a raised eyebrow. He wore a beige trench coat and combat boots. But what really stood out was the red scarf, decorated with gold embroidery at the ends. It was hand made, he could see the crocheted designs of the fabric and it looked really warm in contrast to the chilly, misty air.

"Zdravstvujte," the boy said hesitantly staring at the blonde. Being from where he had come, he could expect some sideways glares from everyone.

Alfred's eyes widened at the weird word. That was a word right? It wasn't, like, a sentence . . . It could have been . . . but it was something that didn't even sound related to English. Maybe they didn't speak good English? But what the hell kind of language was THAT!

"Excuse me, you're standing in the dveri, tovarishh."

"I'm standing in the what-what?"

The boy's eyes hardened slightly in annoyance, "The dveri! Door! It is cold out tovarishh and you're only in a shirt that is getting soaked from the mist." Something was strange about the blue eyed boy, something that sent his nerves on edge. Who was he?

The cold finally reached his body, "O-oh!" shivering, he moved out of the way. The boy stepped into the two story house and looked around the foray, finding the furnishings to be good. Carefully, he placed his suitcase down on the polished wooden floor before stepping out of his combat boots. He wasn't that much taller. The one thing Alfred couldn't shake though; a strange vibe. Something in his sixth sense told him something wasn't right. He couldn't exactly place it, but the red scarf was not sitting well.

Before he could say something, Arthur walked in, "Ah, it's good to finally meet you in person Ivan. Alfred, this is Ivan Braginski. Ivan, this blond git is my cousin and other exchange student: Alfred Jones."

"Alfred Freedom Jones! Damn straight my bitches," Alfred flashed the rock on sign and strummed an air guitar. Ivan raised an eyebrow again. The boy sure was full of himself. But there was something . . . something that made Ivan want to beat him to death, other than his audacity and irksome antics. The same thing was for Alfred.

If only he could place it.

"So, what music do you like?" Alfred finally managed an intelligent (somewhat) sentences through his mouth full of food. After forcing himself to gag the meal down his throat, Ivan adamantly protested against seconds. The other boy was on his fourth helping however. It made Ivan think he was British, but that was shoved into a back corner by his obvious lack of English accent. Actually, it was a strange sort of drawl that he had never heard before, and seeing as he had traveled through most, if not all, of Eastern Europe, that was very strange.

Ivan sipped the tea, which was the only edible thing on the table, "I am quite fond of Bulat Okudzhava."

". . . And that is?"

"Obviously you have no taste in music."

"Excuse me! I'll have you know tha-."

"Ivan, why don't you tell Alfred where you're from," Arthur cut in curtly before taking a sip from his own tea.

The violet eyes locked onto Alfred's blue ones seriously and they shown with great pride, "I am from the USSR! Leningrad as a matter of fact."

He bowed his head watching Alfred carefully.

The fork that was halfway to Alfred's mouth stood still, the food falling off and back onto the plate.

Silence and tension choked the air, mangling the life out of the atmosphere.

Alfred jumped to his feet, his fork his only weapon. He pointed it at the frozen heart of the other boy, glaring fiercely. A slight trickle of sweat slid down his neck, awaiting the other's move.

"Fucking Communist Bastard! I'll make sure you rot in hell!"