Title: Proving a point

Chapter 1

Summary: Alfred was just another kid who tried to fit into highschool and be popular. Arthur just wanted to prove to his parents that he could do much worse. Highschool!AU, USUK, other pairings

A/N: A new story! Also an excuse for why I haven't been updating my other Hetalia-related stories... sorry, I worked on them too this evening :D I'm going to keep this T-rated I think, but that might change, I don't know. It's my first Hetalia!Highschool fic, and it's probably to contain a lot of gay couples, so if you don't like, don't read! I also don't own Hetalia, etc etc... Also, I don't have a beta, and my English can be a bit wobbly every now and then, depends on my enthusiasm when I'm writing, haha xD

I hope you leave comment too! Enjoy~!

Chapter 1

If there was one thing that Arthur couldn't begin to understand, it was how his parents still put up with him.

When the alarm went off at seven a.m., Arthur felt ready to kill something. Though that would probably hurt his head even more than now. Recognizing the headache and sick feeling as a hangover, Arthur turned to slam the alarm off, only to find it had been moved to his desk.

Most likely the doing of his mother, so she was sure he was going to school.

He turned around and tried to hide in the warmth of his bed, but the beeping got really annoying. He tried glaring at it – wasn't it supposed to shut itself off after five minutes? There was no way getting around this. He was already awake now, might as well get up.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair as the youngest of the family stood at his door, glaring at him. "Mom told me you had to go to school, whether you liked it or not." Peter said, louder than normal to be heard over the alarm.

"Get lost, brat." Arthur scoffed at him, glaring. Peter stuck out his tongue, but left anyway. He should leave a note on his bed or something if he planned on going home drunk; always lock the door before you go to sleep. Thank god it was only his younger brother still living in the house.

Automatically, he went over the night before. He remembered most of the evening before – there was a party at Gilbert's and Ludwig's. Francis had dragged him along, but since Arthur never really felt comfortable at parties like that, he did what he could do pretty well – get drunk.

He went about his morning routine slowly, feeling no hurry to go to school. He'd miss first period, but he could make up an excuse. And it wasn't as if he would be the only one – he doubted some others were going to school at all today.

His mother was about to leave for work once he finally stumbled down. She smiled at him and patted his hair gently. "We'll let it slide this time, but no more parties during school days. I wish you'd stop hanging out with those boys too…" Arthur's eyebrows twitched. "There's breakfast in the kitchen. Have a good day, sweetheart."

"Whatever… thanks." He let her give him a peck and watched as she left. The door shut behind her and Arthur let out a frustrated groan. Why wasn't she mad? He had gone to a party on a Wednesday, had gotten absolutely drunk, and had made no point of hiding it when stumbling in the house at three a.m.!

He shuffled over to the kitchen, grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one quickly. He wasn't quite hungry, but he knew his nausea would fade into hunger sooner or later, so he still took the plate with toast to the table.

Peter sniffed. "You're not allowed to smoke in the house!"

"So? What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll tell mom!"

Arthur chuckled. "Be my guest. Aren't you late or something?" He played with his toast a little, before taking a bite and forcing it down with some orange juice. Peter complained about how he was just as late, but at least it got the brat scurrying off to get his stuff. Arthur didn't reply when Peter yelled his goodbye, closing his eyes at the silence in the house.

Why was there money near his wallet, why was there a warm breakfast waiting for him, and why in the hell was there no angry comment from his mother this morning? Were they saints? He came home in the middle of the fucking night, had loudly announced his displeasure and had a good, loud fight with his father, before passing out on his bed, all clothes on.

Perhaps the 'talk' would come at dinner, tonight.

Oh who was he fucking kidding. Smoking, drinking, breaking the rules, it all didn't matter. His parents were convinced it was just a phase. One of his older brothers had went through it. It upset him; it felt as if his parents weren't taking him seriously.

He still had a few things on his list though. He could get a tattoo, but he's rather against the idea. It's so permanent. Then there was a piercing. A much more logical solution. Somewhere visible too. Or perhaps he should dye his hair bright red or bright green, or something bright and idiotic. Though that would all be considered 'a phase'. A phase wasn't permanent. Perhaps a tattoo was a good idea..

Arthur threw the rest of his breakfast away and grabbed his bag and coat, heading for school. He was late for first period, as expected, and instead off barging into the room in the middle of a class, he opted to wait it out on the parking lot.

About ten minutes before second period would begin, a familiar car drove in and parked neatly. Arthur scoffed, mentally preparing himself. He watched as one of his oldest friends, Francis, gracefully stepped out of the car, swishing his ridiculously long hair while doing so. God, he was such a girl.

"Oh, sourcils!" Francis called with delight. Arthur glared. "How do you feel? You were so drunk last night, mon ami."

"Yes, yes, don't remind me. I have the hangover, don't worry." Arthur said sarcastically, slapping Francis his arm from his shoulders. "It wasn't even a fun party."

The other laughed, shaking his head. "It's never a fun party when you're there, Arthur. Ouch, stop, I was kidding! Did Michelle make a move on you yet?" Francis asked, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. Arthur rolled his eyes. Somehow, he was obsessed with the idea that Michelle, a girl from a class below him, was in love with him. He hardly ever talked to her, and he will never really talk to her either.

"Obviously not." He replied. "And that's good for her, because I would have rejected her anyway."

"Your sex life is so boring. Or well, your non-existent sex life."

"Shut up, frog! Just because you sleep around with anything that's willing, doesn't mean we're all like that!" Arthur fumed, glaring at the other. Well, he was never really angry with the Frenchman, but Francis could just really annoy him sometimes.

They postponed the rest of the conversation because of second period. At least it was one of Arthur's favourite classes - literature. He was exceptionally good in it too, and he liked to brag about it. Well, to himself. No one was really impressed with him being good in literature. His parents would be, but they're impressed with him for everything, the dolts.

He dazed off during his classes, trying to will the headache he still had away. Today was going to be a non-productive day, whether he wanted it or not. He decided to go to the library to turn in some books, and loaning a few others, in his short break. It wasn't until the lunch break, he saw Francis again. They almost immediately started up their argument again.

"You should try it, Arthur, perhaps it'll take the edges off!"

"Edges off where?"

"You." Francis said dead-seriously, and Arthur rolled his eyes. Damn the frog. Gilbert snickered, but was otherwise engaged pestering some Hungarian classmate of his. Antonio sighed and decided to stand up for Arthur.

"Leave him be, amigo. Not everyone is so romantically driven as you." He said soothingly, and Francis pouted, leaning back. "How did you get home last night?" He asked, turning to Arthur.

Francis dramatically interrupted. "I took his sorry ass home! He didn't even thank me for it!" Arthur gave him a look, and Francis ignored him. "I was about to get it on with this cute guy too, and then he just intervened."

Arthur scowled. "Oh, I intervened? I was having a great time until you claimed you had to drag me home! What, that guy wasn't interesting enough? Obviously you used me as an escape."

"Nonsense! Mathieu is very interesting."

"Matthew? Matthew Williams?" Gilbert asked suddenly, turning away from the brunette. Francis nodded, smiling brightly.

"Oui! He's quite the adorable-"

"Oh snap, Jones his brother is gay? Must be hard on that family, two gay sons." Gilbert joked, laughing a bit too loud.

"Oh please," said Arthur. "Jones has girls flocking at his side every moment. And Francis can just make about every guy who doesn't know him gay. And emotionally depressed afterwards."

Gilbert sniffed. "Yeah right. I bet my pay-check from last month that they're both gay. Oh man, this is gold. They're probably not out, the golden boys. I remembered when Ludwig admitted he had a thing with Feliciano, oh man, my folks were so angry it wasn't even amusing. At least they already knew I was a total shit."

"Don't talk about your parents like that." Antonio scolded softly.

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert continued their friendly bantering about closet-gays and what not, and it suddenly hit Arthur. He knew how to rile his parents up. His older three brothers weren't exactly the stars of the family, and Peter was still young. Perhaps that's why they were so ignorant– they saw him as the most promising son of the family. Oh, this was just perfect.

He had to get himself a boyfriend.

He smirked. If that wouldn't at least anger his dad, then nothing would. He thought about the idea first. He didn't know if he was gay actually – he had never really thought about it. He knew he was not homophobic though – he was surrounded with gay and bisexual people. Francis, Gilbert. Even Antonio has fallen for some angry Italian boy.

Besides, getting a boyfriend didn't mean he had to go all the way or something. He just wanted to get the point across. And then he'd be done, that's all he really wants after all.

He had to pick someone though. Preferably someone he didn't know well. Someone a bit submissive would be good too, couldn't have someone forcing him into things. Someone mellow, and not very intelligent… He looked around the cafeteria discreetly. He mostly saw idiots, girls, fools, wankers. Sure, they weren't very intelligent, but he was already disgusted at the idea.

Lunch break passed, and he was on his way to chemistry, mulling over his plan. He could also pick someone outside of school. That way they didn't have to see each other every day, and he could use the excuse of having 'school-stuff to do'. But he didn't know a lot of people outside of school, and he was horrible at socializing too.

He decided to drop the thought for now, and was about to enter the classroom, when someone else was about to enter it. They collided rather harshly because the other idiot was running, and Arthur cursed.

"Watch where you're going, you bloody twat!" He snapped, regaining balance. He glared up at his attacker.

Alfred F. Jones and his ridiculous big grin stared down at him. "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there… You all right?"

"Get lost." Arthur said, as he passed the other into the classroom.

"Hey now, no need to get all hot and bothered. It was an accident. Here," Arthur turned around again, seeing that Alfred was holding out one of his notebooks. "Slipped outta your bag." Alfred said with a smile.

Arthur snatched it, not thanking the other. It was his fault anyway. He promptly sat down and ignored the other, but Alfred just laughed. "Feisty, aren't you?"

"Could you just… Oh forget it." Arthur said, before something clicked. Alfred F. Jones, one of the golden boys of the school, and a complete idiot, probably gay or at least bisexual, and oh so wonderfully naïve and impressionable.

Arthur flashed him a smile. "Alfred, was it?"

Eeeeend of chapter 1~!