Chapter Text
Something that had surprised Yao Wang eventually when he got used to his new school was the very odd friendships that formed within. People who shouldn’t have gotten along in a million years were best friends, and people who seemed relatively alike got into spats for inconsequential reasons. When Yao had attempted to befriend students who he seemed compatible with, he was met with resentment and strong dislike - Kiku Honda, for instance, viciously attacked Yao for wearing his Hello Kitty knock-off t-shirt (“It’s not even a good knock-off. It looks like something you buy at an American dollar store. Disgrace...”) Yao, who didn’t think wearing a slightly non-authentic shirt was that big of a deal, quickly backed off from trying to make friends with similar interests to himself.
However, as a result, even six months later, he found himself quite friendless and without many allies in the chess game that was American High School. He wasn’t particularly lonely - when he got home, he always had the opportunity to speak to his friends and family in Shanghai - but occasionally, one needed backup for certain obstacles. Like for instance, this very moment.
Yao was clutching his plastic baby securely and watching the academy’s football team practice. When their health class had ended that day, Mr. Beilschmidt had handed off the baby to Yao with a condescending pat and went off on his way. Meanwhile, Ivan Braginsky, who only acknowledged Yao with a creepy smile, bounced out of class without so much as a glance back. This of course left Yao alone with the plastic nightmare, which began to cry as soon as the last bell rang.
Now, Yao wasn’t stupid. Clearly, Braginsky thought he could get away with abandoning his partner to do all the work, trusting that Yao’s fear of him and his drive to be the school’s valedictorian would assure Ivan an A with minimal work. And perhaps Yao would have let him get away with it if their baby didn’t cry every five seconds for one reason or another. The Chinese boy had been alone with the baby for only an hour, and already he felt like dumping it in the trash.
“Ssshh...it’s fine, all is good….” Yao muttered to his fake whiny child, bouncing it in his arms a little harder than was strictly necessary, “Your mommy will take you soon enough, ben dan…”
By the time Yao had tracked down Ivan, the other boy’s football practice had started, and Yao found that as angry as he was, he couldn’t barge into the middle of a gathering of Weston Academy’s biggest douchebags and demand Ivan take his scumbag baby away. So he was stuck in the stands, holding it close, and attempting not to strangle it with his bare hands.
“Well, baby, your mommy has talent when it comes to aggressive sports,” Yao said to the lifeless doll, watching as Braginsky tackled Jones with relative ease, “Perhaps he will be scouted and become professional. Then he can support us with a lot of money. I will hire you a babysitter, and they will play with you while daddy goes and spends all of mommy’s money on dumplings and spas…”
Yao tried not to think about the fact that it was no longer rare for him to have full conversations with himself or with inanimate objects. He’d be as crazy as Arthur Kirkland if he did.
Having nothing else to do, Yao watched the football practice with great intensity, paying special attention to Ivan. Yao didn’t usually pay attention to Ivan (in fact he did everything in his power to avoid making direct eye-contact), but this was a good opportunity to stare at him without fear of getting beat up. He was interesting looking, to say the least, with hair so blonde it was almost white, and eyes that looked almost...purple most days. He was also GIGANTIC -- easily the tallest in their grade -- and when he wasn’t trying to look like an escaped lunatic, he actually had rather symmetrical and pleasant facial features. He could almost be called handsome, if the fact that he was Ivan Braginsky didn’t stand in the way.
Realizing where the direction of his thoughts was going, Yao shook his head roughly. There was nothing good about the Russian, except for the fact that he would soon be taking the screaming bundle of joy home with him.
Eventually, the football practice finally ended, and the players began making their way back to their locker room. Yao spotted Ivan horsing around with Jones and Beilschmidt as the three made their way back into the building. Deciding it was now or never, Yao launched himself off the bleachers and ran after them.
“Braginsky!” he shouted, a bit more shrilly than he would have liked, “Braginsky!! Slow down, aru, god damn fuck--”
Eventually he caught up with them. Beilschmidt looked rather confused to see him, while Jones smirked in his smug, egotistical way. Ivan was smiling, like usual, though there seemed to be a bit of a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Can I help you?” Ivan asked, as if Yao had no business speaking with him. Yao huffed in frustration. He thought the worst situation he could have been in was having Ivan Braginsky as a partner. Now, he feared it was not having a partner at all.
“You ran out of class before we made a schedule, in regards to the baby,” Yao ground out, “Let’s make one now. You can take it the first night, since I have been taking care of it since health class.”
“Ho-ho, look at your wife, cracking the whip!” Jones chortled, both he and Beilschmidt clapping Ivan on the back. Ivan, however, did not look amused.
“I didn’t think we had to have this conversation,” Ivan said, smile quickly back in place, “I’m not going to look after a noisy toy. You care about the grades, I don’t. Seems straightforward, da?”
Yao glared up at the taller boy. “No, it is not straightforward!” he said, “This is your assignment too! You can’t just--dump it on me!”
“Listen to me, comra--”
“NO YOU LISTEN!” Yao exploded, “THIS IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TOO! I don’t care if you don’t want to do it, YOU ARE DOING IT!” he shoved the baby into Ivan’s arms, ignoring Beilschmidt and Jones’ shocked faces, “And you better do it right! Or I-I’ll…” he didn’t really have any good threats available to him, and his heart was pounding a million beats per second, and he felt sweaty and faint, but nevertheless he said, “I’ll make you regret it! Don’t cross me, Braginsky!” Now, all three boys were looking at Yao slackjawed. The shorter boy nodded decisively and tried very hard not to faint, as not to ruin his exit. He stomped past the taller boys, head held high, and stomach churning in absolute instinctual fear.
Alfred, Ludwig, and Ivan meanwhile all watched him march away, fascinated.
“I think I have to kill him,” Ivan said evenly, and neither of his friends were surprised.
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Alfred, meanwhile, decided to avoid the scene that Ivan had just experienced and readied himself to face the music. He bid his friends goodbye after changing and made his way to the student council office, where Arthur Kirkland told him he’d be. Alfred didn’t know too much about Arthur, but he knew you didn’t get to be president by junior year by being a pushover. At the very least, Alfred knew that if he did his part correctly, everything would go smoothly, because of course Kirkland would be on top of the class as usual.
Which was why it was surprising when, upon arriving to the student council office, Alfred found his baby abandoned under a pile of paperwork.
“I dunno what you were thinking, Michelle, but we do not fund hooligans!” Arthur was shouting, literally shaking his fist at the African exchange student. Alfred watched, jaw hanging open, still unable to process that his fake baby was alone crying in the trash, “I want you to re-do all the forms, and please don’t include any inappropriate clubs this time.”
“Uh,” Alfred said, trying to interrupt Arthur’s rant, “Uh, Kirkland, can I--”
“And as for the rest of you,” Arthur said, getting up on a desk, attracting everyone’s attention in the room, “No more slacking off, these funds have to be turned in ON TIME THIS YEAR? DO YOU HEAR ME?! ON TIME!!”
“Oh dear god, what the fuck,” Alfred whispered, watching his screeching ‘partner’. He waited until Arthur was done scolding his staff before approaching the president’s desk.
“Hey, Kirkland…” Alfred began, “How are...you know--”
“Can I help you Jones?” Arthur muttered darkly, shuffling papers around his desk at random.
Alfred furrowed his brows, “Yeah, you can actually. Where exactly is our baby?” Arthur pointed wordlessly at the crying paper pile. “I thought so. Listen, when you said you’d take care of it, I thought you would actually...I don’t know, take care of it?”
“What’s wrong with it?” Arthur questioned, pointedly ignoring that their babies’ screaming had gotten louder.
“You really need to ask?” Alfred said incredulously.
Arthur, perhaps sensing that Alfred’s patience had just about run out, finally out down his various papers and looked the American in the eye.
“I apologize, Jones,” he said, President-of-the-Student-Council mask right back on his face. It was one of the things Alfred liked least about the British boy--at least the manic screaming and bossing around had been genuine. Too bad it came at the expense of Alfred’s grade. “Things are a bit hectic here at the moment. I offered to take Twinkle off your hands because I figured it was better than letting you stuff him in a locker.”
“Apparently not! At least in the locker he--” suddenly, Alfred paused, as if something just occurred to him. “...Wait a minute. Did you say...Twinkle?”
“Well,” Arthur began, turning right back to his work, “I figured we needed to name the baby at some point.”
“You cannot name a baby TWINKLE!" Alfred roared, stopping every Student Council member in their tracks, including Arthur.
Alfred quickly racked his brain, trying to think of everything anyone had ever told him about Arthur Kirkland. He could only remember people saying that he was dry, witty, and extremely intelligent. Some characterized him as a douche, but none of these things accounted for the fact that the Brit thought TWINKLE was an appropriate name for a child.
“Kirkland,” Alfred began, trying to calm himself down, “Look dude, I might not be the Virgin Mary over here, but even I know babies don’t like being abandoned under a pile of trash.”
“He’s not abandoned! He’s being guarded by the fair--uh,” Kirkland quickly cut himself off, looking a little panicked. Alfred chose to leave it be, especially because what Kirkland almost said sounded suspiciously like ‘the fairies’, “Someone is looking after him the whole time. It’s good for children to just cry it out sometimes. No use coddling him.”
“Kirkland, I cannot fail because of you!” Alfred exclaimed, getting angry again, “I can’t believe this, I thought this was going to be a piece of cake. I NEED an A in this class!”
“Everything is going to be fine, Jones, stop your bloody screaming.”
“I have to go home home with you,” Alfred said, no longer looking at Arthur, “I have to go to your house, and make sure you remember to feed the damn baby--”
“You are not coming to my house--”
“--because apparently you’re a lot more useless at this parenting thing than I--”
“--Oh, I’M useless?” Arthur interrupted, looking rather red, “You had no qualms sticking me with that thing when everyone knows I’m always busy after school!! But of course, how can I infringe on the great tradition of throwing a lopsided ball around with a bunch of brutes? Surely such ceremony is sacred!”
“IF I HAD KNOWN YOU’D STICK IT IN A PILE OF TRASH I WOULD HAVE TAKEN IT WITH ME,” Alfred yelled, losing his patience, “I refuse to watch this thing by my damn self, so you are going to learn some parenting instincts, so help me god!”
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“We look so stupid,” Lovino muttered darkly, glaring openly at anyone who happened to glance at him, “We look like a pair of sister-wives.”
“I don’t think that’s what sister-wives means, Lovino,” Feliciano replied. He rocked his baby gently in his arms, willing it to sleep, and doing everything in his power to keep it quiet. Lovino stuffed his in his backpack, head sticking out just far enough to horrify bystanders.
“Whatever.” Lovino said dismissively, and Feliciano figured that was that.
The two were making their way over to Antonio’s house to inform him of the “good news”. Lovino looked so pale and shaken up at the prospect of speaking to Antonio that Feliciano immediately agreed to accompany him. Though the younger twin usually did not enjoy Lovino’s company when he was in a bad mood, he nevertheless wanted to support his brother as best he could.
Besides, there wasn't anything better to do anyway. Ludwig had caught up to Feliciano after his practice, mumbled something about being unable to hang out, and dumped the baby unceremoniously into the Italian's arms. He supposed spending the afternoon with Lovino was a masterful way of taking his mind off the incident.
“Do you think he’ll mind, taking care of this dumb thing with me?” Lovino finally asked, breaking the silence. Feliciano looked up at him in surprise. Lovino, in stark contrast to his usual facade, looked rather vulnerable; he was hunched over, looking as if he wanted to be swallowed into the ground - an effect exacerbated by the long and rather stringy brown hair covering his eyes. He was also pouting, a rather rare instance, and Feliciano was immediately struck by the urge to embrace his brother and never let go.
“He’s going to love it!” Feliciano said with genuine enthusiasm, grasping at his brother’s shoulder, “He likes kids, and he likes you, fratello. You’re going to have so much fun!”
Lovino smiled a little. “Better than you and the potato, yeah?”
While normally Feliciano would protest, he merely nodded and beamed. Lovino, looking mollified, looked straight ahead, holding his head a little higher.
Besides, there was perhaps a grain of truth to Lovino’s statement for once. Feliciano and Ludwig were normally best of friends, and they had been for three years. They got along extremely well, despite having completely different personalities, and Feliciano knew there was no one he held in higher esteem than Ludwig Beilschmidt.
However, this relationship had recently been jeopardized when Ludwig began acting strangely distant and all around odd. For instance, he had begun to pull away from anyone who got too physically close to him, even Feliciano. The young Italian had always been affectionate, however; it was Ludwig who started reacting strangely in recent months. Feliciano was slightly bewildered by the change, but not entirely surprised. The behavior could be a manifestation of Ludwig’s closeted homosexuality, after all, and Feliciano didn’t want his already skittish friend to be put off by any confrontation. He’d come around, and when he did, Feliciano would be there for him. He just hoped Ludwig didn’t fall in love with him or something.
His musings came to a swift end when they reached Antonio’s door at the end of the street. Lovino bounded up to the entrance, leaving Feliciano and his artificial spawn in the street. He knocked loudly on the thick oak door, knowing that Antonio’s parents were away for the week, leaving Antonio and his older sister home alone.
When Antonio answered the door, Lovino’s hesitant smile completely disappeared from his face. The Spaniard looked awful; his normally fitted clothes hung off his body like rags, his hair looked like a nest, and worst of all, his normally tanned skin looked palid and clammy. Lovino tried not to look repulsed.
“Ciao, Tony,” Lovino said, hoping the nickname Antonio liked so much would put the other boy into a better mood, “Look what I brought home! We got a little baby to take care of for the month, isn’t it cute?” He assumed Antonio already knew the gist of the assignment - it was an infamous part of Weston Academy’s history after all.
Antonio didn’t answer. Instead, he blinked dumbly at the doll Lovino waved in front of his face.
Lovino frowned. “Tony, did you hear what I said? Look at this little robot. Hmm…” he leaned in closer to Antonio, wiggling the baby teasingly, “Robot. I like that. Rob! We should call him Rob,” he grimaced further when Antonio still remained unresponsive, “...Are listening to me?”
“Lovino, do you have to talk so loud?” Antonio finally said, not breaking his gaze away from Lovino’s baby, “I’m actually in the middle of my League game, and you’re breaking my concentration. Can we do this later?”
“Wow, someone’s got their panties in a bunch.” Lovino tried to joke, nudging Antonio with the baby. The baby did not appreciate it, as it started to whine.
“Damn it, Lovino, I don’t feel well okay? Please don’t bug me!”
“Geez, fine,” Lovino replied, a bit taken aback,“me and the baby are going back to my house to eat some applesauce,” Antonio nodded rather despondently. “...with cinnamon.” he added hopefully. He was met with silence. “Okay, so I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Antonio courteously nodded then slammed his heavy oak door on Lovino’s face. Lovino turned to look back at his brother, and found he was wearing a matching expression of shock.
“What the hell just happened?”