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RussiaxReader

Cake or Death

Part 5

The class was in chaos.

Poor Feliciano Vargas was bawling his eyes out, a swarm of girls surrounding him and coddling him like a baby while Ludwig watched on, seemingly glad that he didn't have to deal with the Italian himself (he tended to make things worse before they got better, anyway). The nerdy honors students were busy losing their damn minds over all their hard work being ruined while the slackers, who'd probably just purchased their shit at the store, were laughing their asses off. A couple of the kids in the class were rooting through the mess to see if anything was salvageable.

Nothing was. Not even the damn table. Everything had gone to food and furniture heaven.

Rest in peace, inanimate objects.

As poor Mrs. Grey flitted around trying to get everyone to calm down, one of the girls in the class, Veronica, a Valedictorian in the making, immediately tried to find someone to blame.

"It was him!"

Apparently she was also trying to find someone to end her sorry little life, because the person she'd pointed to was Ivan.

The whole class looked at her, everyone taking on the "bitch, is you stupid?" facial expression.

It seemed that the girl was too lost in her rage at missing out on another perfect score, for she continued on, "he was the last person at the table, so his dish obviously collapsed the table!"

Ivan simply gifted her with that oh-so-special smile of his, his weather powers (because that was the only logical way you could explain the anomaly) causing another shift in the temperature of the room. Everyone near Veronica smartly backed up a few steps while the dumb bitch continued to seethe and glare, oblivious to the upcoming cancellation of her life.

Luckily, before the Russian could unleash his unholy creeper powers upon her, someone spoke up.

"Oh, shut up, Veronica. That table was older than Joan Rivers, just calm down and leave him alone."

Oh shit, that was you.

All eyes in the class turned to you, now giving you the "bitch, is you stupid?" look. Hell, if there was a mirror nearby, you'd probably be giving yourself that look as well.

Needless to say, the princess was not amused, "you're just saying that because you're his partner!" she hissed.

You figured since you'd already opened you big mouth, you might as well finish what you started, "no, I'm saying that because I'm not a two-year-old and I know better than to blame people for crap that isn't their fault, unlike you. So why don't you quit embarrassing yourself and act like you have some sense for a change?"

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" shouted the class. Veronica had been burned.

Damn that felt good. Maybe you were kind of harsh, but it was no surprise to anyone by now that you were a bitch. And plus, you'd spent the past weekend in a paranoid haze, not to mention the tubs of IcyHot you'd gone through to make your back feel like it hadn't gotten into a fight with Chuck Norris and lost. You were having a rough life right now, and Veronica had just presented you with an opportunity to make someone else feel your pain. Lucky her.

Before things could get even uglier, the teacher jumped in, "now everyone settle down please! This is all my fault," she sighed sadly, rubbing at her forehead, "I knew the table was old and unstable, but I still told you to put your projects there, I'm sorry."

And Mrs. Grey looked so sad that everyone in the room just had to feel bad for her. Her with her Mrs. Claus face and kitty sweater. You couldn't help but go "awwww!" inside. So with one last glance at the disaster zone that was once a table full of food, you all took a seat and looked to Mrs. Grey for further instructions.

As the teacher went to her desk to phone the front office to send in a janitor, Dana turned to you, a curious, almost disbelieving look on her face.

"What was that all about?" she asked, obviously referring to you defending Ivan.

"I dunno," you shrugged. Part of it, you knew, was that you really didn't want to see a girl get maimed in the middle of class and the best way to prevent that was to take care of her yourself. But the other part? You really didn't know. Sure, you felt kind of bad that Ivan had to make the cake himself only to have it destroyed a day later, but in all honesty, if he wasn't such a damn creeper and had at least a little sense of personal space, that wouldn't have happened.

Plus, it was a Monday and people were looking at you, you really didn't want to try and explain yourself to Dana.

And in one of her rare moments of attentiveness, Dana seemed to sense this, "well, okay… but whatever reason you had, your partner sure seems to appreciate it… I think…?"

Dana tilted her chin over in Ivan's direction and you turned to get a look. He sat there staring at you, his expression unreadable at first, but then he smiled cheerily once you caught his eye.

You looked away, glancing at Dana, "how long has he been staring at me like that?"

"Since you told off Veronica," she replied.

You shivered. Fuck Stephenie Meyer. A dude staring at you from across the room like a total creeper was definitely not cute.

"Bee tee dubs, she looks so pissed right now," Dana stage-whispered with barely contained glee.

You looked up and sure enough, Veronica was glaring daggers in your direction. You scoffed, what was she going to do? Beat you to death with her Ti-89? Please, you (partially) baked a cake with Ivan Braginsky and lived to tell the tale. She was nothing. Though you had a feeling it wasn't over with her yet.

"Sucks about the projects though…" said Dana, pouting, "our crab cakes were really good! And you know how I am about seafood!"

She absolutely hated it. Ever since she got food poisoning at that one seafood restaurant two years ago. You remembered that day well, she'd gotten extremely, and grossly, sick… all over you. You cringed at the memory.

You cast another glance over at the mess, broken pieces of ceramic were scattered all over the place, juices from different sauces and creams were mingling together, there was pasta in cake and cake in pasta, crumbs of different pastries decorating everything. Behind it all lay the table on its side, sagging and broken beyond use. The whole scene just looked really, really sad. And disgusting. You definitely did not envy the janitor at all.

"Okay class!" said Mrs. Grey as she hung up the phone and made her way to the front the room, "here's what we're going to do, the test that we were going to have next Monday will now be held this Friday-"

The class groaned.

"-but," she continued, "it will be open note and you can take it with a partner."

The class cheered and high-fived each other.

"So instead of taking the test on Monday you will once again be presenting your dishes. That will give you all of this week and the weekend to remake your dishes. Does that sound good?"

Everyone nodded.

"Alright!" she said cheerily, "well, I guess you all can just spend the rest of class talking amongst yourselves, just don't be too loud!"

And this is why the whole school loved Mrs. Grey.

Without needing to be told twice, the class began buzzing with voices and the scraping of chairs as people turned around in their seats to talk to someone nearby. You turned to Dana, but found that her attention was elsewhere, more specifically on Cody('s fine ass), and he seemed to be returning her gaze just as intently.

You smirked, "go on."

She jumped a little, and looked at you with a frown. She cast a nervous glance over in Ivan's direction, and you knew that he was most likely still staring at you like a vulture eyes a carcass, "oh no, that's alright, I can stay here and talk to you!"

You could tell by her tone that she'd much rather be over with Cody. You shook your head, "nah, I'll be fine. I think I have a rubber band in my pocket to keep me company…"

She giggled a little, but she still looked unsure, "but…what if Ivan-?"

"Bitch, just go! God damn, I don't wanna see you two have eye-sex from across the room for the next hour!" and with your foot you pushed her laughing self up out of her seat. You understood her point. You knew Ivan well enough by now (and wasn't that a scary thought?) to know that he'd probably come over as soon as Dana left. Hell, he'd probably come over regardless of whether or not Dana was sitting with you. And as noble as you found it that Dana was trying to make up for the fact that she'd pulled the Dick-Move of the Year the week before by choosing dicks over chicks, you highly doubted that she'd be any help against an oncoming Russian offensive. Well, that wasn't exactly true, you could finally have that human meat-shield you always wanted, and then you could stop being jealous of Raivis.

"Okay! Okay!" she squeaked, and with that she left to go be with her man.

You smiled as she sat next to him and they immediately held hands. It impressed you that she'd showed enough self restraint to not just up and climb into his lap. Good for her.

Then you shivered. Your Ivan Sense was tingling.

Not even two seconds later, there was a hand on your shoulder and a voice whispering, "that was very nice of you, little one."

You were both proud and ashamed at the same time. Proud because you didn't jump ten feet into the air when he creeped up on you, ninja-style. Ashamed because the reason you didn't jump was because of a newly formed super-power that you really wished you didn't have to have.

As he took Dana's now unoccupied seat, you shrugged, trying to be all cool-like, "I just figured now I don't owe you… as much."

He giggled. Honest to God giggled. And even the sound the Grudge girl made couldn't compare to how freaky that was. Then he reached over and patted your head with his huge ass hand, "very witty, little one. That is why I like you so very much."

You froze. Oh God. Oh no… Oh. OHHH NO. No. No. No.

You looked into his face and saw… fondness? Oh Lord. He considered you to be past Facebook Friends status.

So you just kind of sat there as he continued to ruffle you hair like you were some human sized Siberian Husky as you made a face that suggested you wanted to vomit, but didn't want anyone else to know that. He remained completely oblivious. That bastard.

Finally, he stopped molesting your scalp and placed his hands in his lap. Then he just looked at you. Smiling in that unique way that made you die a little on the inside. You contemplated trying to ignore him, but you were afraid that if you turned away from him for too long, he might pull a Günter Parche and stab you in the back or something.

It was just a really bad idea to not keep an eye on him.

But a small part of you hoped that if you looked busy, he might get the hint and get out of your life forever. So, trying to look casual, you pulled out your binder, opened it, and pretended to look like you were really interested in what was written on the first page.

Suddenly, Ivan reached forward and you flinched a bit. He chuckled in amusement, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, and you fumed silently. He grabbed you binder and you grit your teeth. Why the hell was everyone putting their hands on your shit lately? Why? WHY!?

He placed it on the desk in front of him and examined the page for a bit, finally focusing on the information Gilbert had written in it earlier, he traced his fingers over it.

"How long have you known my neighbor, little one?" he asked, not looking up from your binder.

"None of your fucking business."

Now that is what you wanted to say, but what you actually said was, "I dunno… a while?"

"Mmm…" he murmured, finally closing the binder with a loud snap that made you jump in your seat a little. He slid the notebook over to you and smiled cheerfully, "I do not like him."

You blinked, well that had come out of fucking nowhere, "…okay?"

"He is much too proud," he said nodding to himself, then he stared at you, and he seemed to be looking for something.

You gulped, shifting in your seat a little. You had no idea what was going on in that head of his (though a part of you that wasn't completely freaked out by all of this idly wondered if he thought in Russian) but it worried you. It was easy to tell by just their little interaction from earlier that Ivan and Gilbert despised each other, and you had a feeling that you somehow managed to get stuck in the middle of it.

Dammit, couldn't one bad thing in your life happen at a time? Why did it all have to pile up like this?

Ivan reached forward again, this time his hand heading right for your face. It took every ounce of your willpower and lady-balls to not move a muscle. He took a lock of your hair between his fingers, gently twisting it. The part of your mind that apparently had the attention span of a goldfish when it came to matters of importance noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves, the other parts of your mind were alternating between trying to remember how to breath in a manner that didn't not involve screaming for your mother at every exhale and trying to figure out why life hated you so much.

"Don't spend too much time with him," said Ivan in a way that sounded a lot like an order. He released your hair, "he's a bad influence."

Then he pinched your cheek.

Fucking OW.

With an eerie smile, he let you go and stood, making his way over to his regular seat while you felt at your face to see if he'd torn a chunk out of it with that pinch of his. Good Lord, that hurt!

As the pain began to become less excruciating, you allowed your mind to focus on trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. It was obvious that Ivan did not want you hanging around Gilbert. But why? Not that you would stop hanging out with Gilbert, as unlikely as you thought that becoming a regular occurrence would be. As much as Ivan scared the shit out of you (which was a lot) you were not about to let him determine who you associated yourself with. He could just go to hell.

You spent the rest of class silently fuming as you doodled stick figures carrying out violent acts on a piece of scrap paper.

When the bell rang, practically an eternity later, Dana managed to unglue herself from Cody's side and joined you in the walk to the student parking lot. You were a little surprised that Ivan hadn't tried to stop you to creep you out some more on your way out. In fact, you didn't see him anywhere. He must've used his demonic powers to teleport away or some shit.

"You okay?" asked Dana as the two of you walk out of the school, "you have, like, this super weird look on your face…"

"Huh?" you said, shaking yourself out of your musings, "oh, sorry… no, I'm fine, it's the weather, I guess..."

You figured it was easier to give her a lame-ass excuse than to try and explain that you felt that your life had just turned into a Hitchcock thriller and that you weren't sure if you'd turn out to be Janet Leigh or Doris Day. Partially because you didn't think she'd know what to do, and partially because you doubted she knew who Hitchcock was and that was just a damn shame.

"Is it Ivan?" she pressed, seeing right through your bullshit in that annoying as fuck way all besties can.

You sighed and nodded. Damn having best friends. Why did they have to do such douchey things like being there for you, or knowing you well enough to see through your façade, or getting you to talk about something to make you feel better when you'd rather just brood on a rooftop like the goddamn Batman?

She made a sympathetic noise, linking arms with you as a show of affection and leaning into your shoulder, "you wanna talk about it-?"

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of your name being called and a car horn being honked an obnoxious number of times. You looked up to see Gilbert in his incredibly German automobile stopped in the road of the parking lot, blocking traffic, waving at you. Beside him in the passenger seat, sat Ludwig, who looked torn between yelling at Gilbert to quit acting a fool, and melting into car seat to avoid the looks they were getting from nearby students.

"Want a ride?" Gilbert offered, oblivious to how mad he was making the people behind him who wanted to go home.

You looked to Dana, unsure. Since Dana was cool enough to have a car of her own, you rode with her to and from school to avoid having to fight the elements on your toe-up bike that was older than your iPod, which was about five embarrassing versions too old.

She shrugged, released her hold on you and said, "we'll talk about Ivan later. Take care, girlie!"

Shrugging yourself, you turned back towards Gilbert, "sure!" you called and he grinned.

With a wave to Dana, you made your way to Gilbert's car as quickly as you could. There was quite the congregation of cars behind him, and people were looking pretty pissed. Stepping up to the car, you reached for the handle to the back seat when Gilbert called out to you again.

"Wait! Sit up front!" he said, then turned to his brother, "Bruder, get out of the front seat!"

"What? No!" snapped Ludwig, irritated.

"Don't be so unawesome! C'mooooooon!" the silver-haired boy, for lack of a better word, whined.

Letting out a long suffering sigh, the younger, yet more mature, of the two gave in, unbuckling himself and stepping out of the car, holding the door open for you. You nodded gratefully, giving him an awkward as hell smile because he looked kind of scary when he was annoyed, and you really couldn't deal with another enemy in your life.

As you settled in the front seat, and Ludwig got in the back, you noticed that there was another person in the car.

"Hey Feli," you greeted, turning to the Italian boy in the back.

He waved at you with less cheer than he was famous for, "hello!"

He still looked a little worse for wear, but at least he wasn't crying anymore, "I'm sorry about your pasta…"

He smiled sadly, "that's alright, I can always make more pasta…"

"What about his pasta?" asked Gilbert, moving his car (much to the exasperated delight of everyone behind him).

"The table holding our Home Economics projects collapsed," Ludwig explained, "all of the food was ruined."

"No shit?" said Gilbert, surprised, "aw, that's so unawesome! Sorry little guy!"

Again Feliciano tried to convince everyone he was okay, but he was struggling a bit. Honestly, you didn't really understand all the sadness. It was just pasta, it wasn't like his puppy had just died or anything. But with how seriously Ludwig and Gilbert were treating it (and you didn't know which of the two surprised you more) you decided to keep that thought to yourself.

"So…" Gilbert glanced at you, "where do you live?"

You opened your mouth to answer when you caught sight of something out of the corner of your eye that made your blood run cold.

It was Ivan.

Gilbert had just driven past Ivan's parking spot, where the tall boy had been ushering a very terrified looking Toris, Eduard, and Raivis into the back seat of his car, as well as a scary looking girl with long hair, who you assumed to be one of his sisters, into the front passenger's seat. For a split moment, the Russian had looked up and the two of you had made eye contact before the car moved you out of his field of vision.

Sweet Baby Jesus, did you just sign your death certificate?

"…you okay?" asked Gilbert, pulling you out of your shock.

You shook your head, "yeah, I'm good." You then proceeded to give him directions to your house, doing your best to get all thoughts of Ivan out of your head.

The rest of the car ride consisted of you hearing about Gilbert's awesomeness while his brother knocked him down a few pegs every so often with his irritated commentary from the back seat. It was seriously some of the most hilarious shit you'd witnessed in a while. It cheered you up quite a bit and even managed to pull Feliciano out of his funk.

When Gilbert pulled up to your house, you nearly sagged with relief. You always considered the point when you reached your house to be the official end of the school day. And right now, you really wanted nothing to do with school.

"Thanks for the ride, Gilbert," you said, giving him a small smile as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your things.

"No problem," he said with a broad grin, and then stopped you as you stepped out of the car, "oh wait! You never gave me your number!"

You raised an eyebrow, "you never asked for it."

He smirked, "whatever, just give me it!"

You complied, then, shutting the door to his car, you all said your goodbyes, Feliciano waving enthusiastically from the back. And with that, Gilbert drove of down the street towards his own house.

You smiled to yourself. Well, that had been interesting. You walked into your house, intent on finishing your homework quickly and spending the rest of day relaxing.

Only you didn't get to relax.

No more than thirty minutes after Gilbert had dropped you off had he started bugging you with texts, asking if you'd read his blog yet, telling you of some awesome thing his bird just did, asking about his blog yet again and by the sixth text you really wanted to punch Gilbert in the throat.

Maybe he was like that with his friends, you didn't know, but that still didn't make it less annoying to you. Finally, you had to ask him to stop texting you so often (you tried really hard to make yourself not sound like an ass, but it was sort of difficult to do with written word) and he backed off somewhat, to your relief. For a couple hours, he left you alone, but then around eight o' clock, the texts picked up again. You wanted to scream.

Honestly. If you didn't love your cell phone more than most of the female population loved Alexander Rybak, you would've thrown it out the window.

At eight thirty, you received yet another text from Gilbert. You groaned, opening your phone and reading the text.

You froze.

don't hang around ivan. he's bad news. sry i didn't tell u ealier. didnt want 2 freak u out. –G

So that's what those five million texts were all about? He was just building up to this? You frowned, running a hand through your hair.

Ivan didn't want you hanging out with Gilbert, and Gilbert didn't want you hanging out with Ivan. Well, it wasn't like you and Gilbert were friends or anything, but he was kind of fun to hang out with (when he wasn't being an annoying shit), and Ivan was admittedly scary as hell, but he was your partner for at least another week. This was a clear case of tough shit, you were doing it anyway.

Yes, you were getting irritated, all this fuckery about being told what to do really revved up your inner rebellious teenager. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to vent about your feelings before another person fell victim to your bitchiness, you called Dana to bother her with your problems.

After a few rings, she picked up, "hey!"

As soon as she picked up, you talked the hell out of her. You told her about Saturday's events, Sunday's recuperation, your chat with Gilbert during Writing, Gilbert and Ivan's face off in the classroom, your chat with Ivan during Home Ec, the ride home and Gilbert's texts. You told her everything in a jumbled mess of facts and feelings and other teenaged bullshit, barely stopping to catch your breath.

She stayed quiet the whole time, an odd occurrence where Dana was concerned. Finally your story came to an end, and still she remained silent, then, "oh, sweetie, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I don't fucking know," you groaned. You were now on your bed, attempting to smother yourself with your pillow, "it's not like I actively search for shit like this to get involved in…"

She sighed, "you know I'm not good with things like this…"

"No shit," you deadpanned. The last time she'd given you advice you ended up in the hospital with a broken ankle. It was a long story that you'd rather not remember.

"Quiet, you," she said in a warning tone. Then she thought for a minute, "my best advice is to deal with this like you deal with all high school drama, carry on with your business and try your best not to start shit with them."

"Well, gee, why didn't I think of that?" you wondered sarcastically.

"Well, fuck you, too then!" Dana hissed.

"Your mom."

There was a tense pause before the two of you burst into laughter. Ah, the wonders of friendship.

Sure, Dana was shit at giving advice, but having her to talk to always made you feel better.

You rolled over so that you were laying on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows, "so tell me…any more updates on Cody?"

The two of you then talked until the wee hours of the morning about the girliest shit you could think of. Soon, it became so late that the two of you were practically falling asleep midsentence.

"Dana," you yawned.

"Mmm?" she murmered.

"I think I'm gonna go now…I'm getting pretty…" another yawn, "tired."

"Mkay…I think I'm done for today, too…" she said.

"Dana?"

"Mmm?"

"If somehow this bullshit with Gilbert and Ivan becomes the death of me… I'm finding a way to bring you down with me."

"Whatever you say, girlie. G'night."

"Night."

And with that you hung up and, still in the clothes that you wore to school that day and none of your bed routine done, you let sleep claim you.

To be continued…

Description
RussiaxReader

Cake or Death

Part 5

The class was in chaos.

Poor Feliciano Vargas was bawling his eyes out, a swarm of girls surrounding him and coddling him like a baby while Ludwig watched on, seemingly glad that he didn't have to deal with the Italian himself (he tended to make things worse before they got better, anyway). The nerdy honors students were busy losing their damn minds over all their hard work being ruined while the slackers, who'd probably just purchased their shit at the store, were laughing their asses off. A couple of the kids in the class were rooting through the mess to see if anything was salvageable.

Nothing was. Not even the damn table. Everything had gone to food and furniture heaven.

Rest in peace, inanimate objects.

As poor Mrs. Grey flitted around trying to get everyone to calm down, one of the girls in the class, Veronica, a Valedictorian in the making, immediately tried to find someone to blame.

"It was him!"

Apparently she was also trying to find someone to end her sorry little life, because the person she'd pointed to was Ivan.

The whole class looked at her, everyone taking on the "bitch, is you stupid?" facial expression.

It seemed that the girl was too lost in her rage at missing out on another perfect score, for she continued on, "he was the last person at the table, so his dish obviously collapsed the table!"

Ivan simply gifted her with that oh-so-special smile of his, his weather powers (because that was the only logical way you could explain the anomaly) causing another shift in the temperature of the room. Everyone near Veronica smartly backed up a few steps while the dumb bitch continued to seethe and glare, oblivious to the upcoming cancellation of her life.

Luckily, before the Russian could unleash his unholy creeper powers upon her, someone spoke up.

"Oh, shut up, Veronica. That table was older than Joan Rivers, just calm down and leave him alone."

Oh shit, that was you.

All eyes in the class turned to you, now giving you the "bitch, is you stupid?" look. Hell, if there was a mirror nearby, you'd probably be giving yourself that look as well.

Needless to say, the princess was not amused, "you're just saying that because you're his partner!" she hissed.

You figured since you'd already opened you big mouth, you might as well finish what you started, "no, I'm saying that because I'm not a two-year-old and I know better than to blame people for crap that isn't their fault, unlike you. So why don't you quit embarrassing yourself and act like you have some sense for a change?"

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" shouted the class. Veronica had been burned.

Damn that felt good. Maybe you were kind of harsh, but it was no surprise to anyone by now that you were a bitch. And plus, you'd spent the past weekend in a paranoid haze, not to mention the tubs of IcyHot you'd gone through to make your back feel like it hadn't gotten into a fight with Chuck Norris and lost. You were having a rough life right now, and Veronica had just presented you with an opportunity to make someone else feel your pain. Lucky her.

Before things could get even uglier, the teacher jumped in, "now everyone settle down please! This is all my fault," she sighed sadly, rubbing at her forehead, "I knew the table was old and unstable, but I still told you to put your projects there, I'm sorry."

And Mrs. Grey looked so sad that everyone in the room just had to feel bad for her. Her with her Mrs. Claus face and kitty sweater. You couldn't help but go "awwww!" inside. So with one last glance at the disaster zone that was once a table full of food, you all took a seat and looked to Mrs. Grey for further instructions.

As the teacher went to her desk to phone the front office to send in a janitor, Dana turned to you, a curious, almost disbelieving look on her face.

"What was that all about?" she asked, obviously referring to you defending Ivan.

"I dunno," you shrugged. Part of it, you knew, was that you really didn't want to see a girl get maimed in the middle of class and the best way to prevent that was to take care of her yourself. But the other part? You really didn't know. Sure, you felt kind of bad that Ivan had to make the cake himself only to have it destroyed a day later, but in all honesty, if he wasn't such a damn creeper and had at least a little sense of personal space, that wouldn't have happened.

Plus, it was a Monday and people were looking at you, you really didn't want to try and explain yourself to Dana.

And in one of her rare moments of attentiveness, Dana seemed to sense this, "well, okay… but whatever reason you had, your partner sure seems to appreciate it… I think…?"

Dana tilted her chin over in Ivan's direction and you turned to get a look. He sat there staring at you, his expression unreadable at first, but then he smiled cheerily once you caught his eye.

You looked away, glancing at Dana, "how long has he been staring at me like that?"

"Since you told off Veronica," she replied.

You shivered. Fuck Stephenie Meyer. A dude staring at you from across the room like a total creeper was definitely not cute.

"Bee tee dubs, she looks so pissed right now," Dana stage-whispered with barely contained glee.

You looked up and sure enough, Veronica was glaring daggers in your direction. You scoffed, what was she going to do? Beat you to death with her Ti-89? Please, you (partially) baked a cake with Ivan Braginsky and lived to tell the tale. She was nothing. Though you had a feeling it wasn't over with her yet.

"Sucks about the projects though…" said Dana, pouting, "our crab cakes were really good! And you know how I am about seafood!"

She absolutely hated it. Ever since she got food poisoning at that one seafood restaurant two years ago. You remembered that day well, she'd gotten extremely, and grossly, sick… all over you. You cringed at the memory.

You cast another glance over at the mess, broken pieces of ceramic were scattered all over the place, juices from different sauces and creams were mingling together, there was pasta in cake and cake in pasta, crumbs of different pastries decorating everything. Behind it all lay the table on its side, sagging and broken beyond use. The whole scene just looked really, really sad. And disgusting. You definitely did not envy the janitor at all.

"Okay class!" said Mrs. Grey as she hung up the phone and made her way to the front the room, "here's what we're going to do, the test that we were going to have next Monday will now be held this Friday-"

The class groaned.

"-but," she continued, "it will be open note and you can take it with a partner."

The class cheered and high-fived each other.

"So instead of taking the test on Monday you will once again be presenting your dishes. That will give you all of this week and the weekend to remake your dishes. Does that sound good?"

Everyone nodded.

"Alright!" she said cheerily, "well, I guess you all can just spend the rest of class talking amongst yourselves, just don't be too loud!"

And this is why the whole school loved Mrs. Grey.

Without needing to be told twice, the class began buzzing with voices and the scraping of chairs as people turned around in their seats to talk to someone nearby. You turned to Dana, but found that her attention was elsewhere, more specifically on Cody('s fine ass), and he seemed to be returning her gaze just as intently.

You smirked, "go on."

She jumped a little, and looked at you with a frown. She cast a nervous glance over in Ivan's direction, and you knew that he was most likely still staring at you like a vulture eyes a carcass, "oh no, that's alright, I can stay here and talk to you!"

You could tell by her tone that she'd much rather be over with Cody. You shook your head, "nah, I'll be fine. I think I have a rubber band in my pocket to keep me company…"

She giggled a little, but she still looked unsure, "but…what if Ivan-?"

"Bitch, just go! God damn, I don't wanna see you two have eye-sex from across the room for the next hour!" and with your foot you pushed her laughing self up out of her seat. You understood her point. You knew Ivan well enough by now (and wasn't that a scary thought?) to know that he'd probably come over as soon as Dana left. Hell, he'd probably come over regardless of whether or not Dana was sitting with you. And as noble as you found it that Dana was trying to make up for the fact that she'd pulled the Dick-Move of the Year the week before by choosing dicks over chicks, you highly doubted that she'd be any help against an oncoming Russian offensive. Well, that wasn't exactly true, you could finally have that human meat-shield you always wanted, and then you could stop being jealous of Raivis.

"Okay! Okay!" she squeaked, and with that she left to go be with her man.

You smiled as she sat next to him and they immediately held hands. It impressed you that she'd showed enough self restraint to not just up and climb into his lap. Good for her.

Then you shivered. Your Ivan Sense was tingling.

Not even two seconds later, there was a hand on your shoulder and a voice whispering, "that was very nice of you, little one."

You were both proud and ashamed at the same time. Proud because you didn't jump ten feet into the air when he creeped up on you, ninja-style. Ashamed because the reason you didn't jump was because of a newly formed super-power that you really wished you didn't have to have.

As he took Dana's now unoccupied seat, you shrugged, trying to be all cool-like, "I just figured now I don't owe you… as much."

He giggled. Honest to God giggled. And even the sound the Grudge girl made couldn't compare to how freaky that was. Then he reached over and patted your head with his huge ass hand, "very witty, little one. That is why I like you so very much."

You froze. Oh God. Oh no… Oh. OHHH NO. No. No. No.

You looked into his face and saw… fondness? Oh Lord. He considered you to be past Facebook Friends status.

So you just kind of sat there as he continued to ruffle you hair like you were some human sized Siberian Husky as you made a face that suggested you wanted to vomit, but didn't want anyone else to know that. He remained completely oblivious. That bastard.

Finally, he stopped molesting your scalp and placed his hands in his lap. Then he just looked at you. Smiling in that unique way that made you die a little on the inside. You contemplated trying to ignore him, but you were afraid that if you turned away from him for too long, he might pull a Günter Parche and stab you in the back or something.

It was just a really bad idea to not keep an eye on him.

But a small part of you hoped that if you looked busy, he might get the hint and get out of your life forever. So, trying to look casual, you pulled out your binder, opened it, and pretended to look like you were really interested in what was written on the first page.

Suddenly, Ivan reached forward and you flinched a bit. He chuckled in amusement, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, and you fumed silently. He grabbed you binder and you grit your teeth. Why the hell was everyone putting their hands on your shit lately? Why? WHY!?

He placed it on the desk in front of him and examined the page for a bit, finally focusing on the information Gilbert had written in it earlier, he traced his fingers over it.

"How long have you known my neighbor, little one?" he asked, not looking up from your binder.

"None of your fucking business."

Now that is what you wanted to say, but what you actually said was, "I dunno… a while?"

"Mmm…" he murmured, finally closing the binder with a loud snap that made you jump in your seat a little. He slid the notebook over to you and smiled cheerfully, "I do not like him."

You blinked, well that had come out of fucking nowhere, "…okay?"

"He is much too proud," he said nodding to himself, then he stared at you, and he seemed to be looking for something.

You gulped, shifting in your seat a little. You had no idea what was going on in that head of his (though a part of you that wasn't completely freaked out by all of this idly wondered if he thought in Russian) but it worried you. It was easy to tell by just their little interaction from earlier that Ivan and Gilbert despised each other, and you had a feeling that you somehow managed to get stuck in the middle of it.

Dammit, couldn't one bad thing in your life happen at a time? Why did it all have to pile up like this?

Ivan reached forward again, this time his hand heading right for your face. It took every ounce of your willpower and lady-balls to not move a muscle. He took a lock of your hair between his fingers, gently twisting it. The part of your mind that apparently had the attention span of a goldfish when it came to matters of importance noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves, the other parts of your mind were alternating between trying to remember how to breath in a manner that didn't not involve screaming for your mother at every exhale and trying to figure out why life hated you so much.

"Don't spend too much time with him," said Ivan in a way that sounded a lot like an order. He released your hair, "he's a bad influence."

Then he pinched your cheek.

Fucking OW.

With an eerie smile, he let you go and stood, making his way over to his regular seat while you felt at your face to see if he'd torn a chunk out of it with that pinch of his. Good Lord, that hurt!

As the pain began to become less excruciating, you allowed your mind to focus on trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. It was obvious that Ivan did not want you hanging around Gilbert. But why? Not that you would stop hanging out with Gilbert, as unlikely as you thought that becoming a regular occurrence would be. As much as Ivan scared the shit out of you (which was a lot) you were not about to let him determine who you associated yourself with. He could just go to hell.

You spent the rest of class silently fuming as you doodled stick figures carrying out violent acts on a piece of scrap paper.

When the bell rang, practically an eternity later, Dana managed to unglue herself from Cody's side and joined you in the walk to the student parking lot. You were a little surprised that Ivan hadn't tried to stop you to creep you out some more on your way out. In fact, you didn't see him anywhere. He must've used his demonic powers to teleport away or some shit.

"You okay?" asked Dana as the two of you walk out of the school, "you have, like, this super weird look on your face…"

"Huh?" you said, shaking yourself out of your musings, "oh, sorry… no, I'm fine, it's the weather, I guess..."

You figured it was easier to give her a lame-ass excuse than to try and explain that you felt that your life had just turned into a Hitchcock thriller and that you weren't sure if you'd turn out to be Janet Leigh or Doris Day. Partially because you didn't think she'd know what to do, and partially because you doubted she knew who Hitchcock was and that was just a damn shame.

"Is it Ivan?" she pressed, seeing right through your bullshit in that annoying as fuck way all besties can.

You sighed and nodded. Damn having best friends. Why did they have to do such douchey things like being there for you, or knowing you well enough to see through your façade, or getting you to talk about something to make you feel better when you'd rather just brood on a rooftop like the goddamn Batman?

She made a sympathetic noise, linking arms with you as a show of affection and leaning into your shoulder, "you wanna talk about it-?"

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of your name being called and a car horn being honked an obnoxious number of times. You looked up to see Gilbert in his incredibly German automobile stopped in the road of the parking lot, blocking traffic, waving at you. Beside him in the passenger seat, sat Ludwig, who looked torn between yelling at Gilbert to quit acting a fool, and melting into car seat to avoid the looks they were getting from nearby students.

"Want a ride?" Gilbert offered, oblivious to how mad he was making the people behind him who wanted to go home.

You looked to Dana, unsure. Since Dana was cool enough to have a car of her own, you rode with her to and from school to avoid having to fight the elements on your toe-up bike that was older than your iPod, which was about five embarrassing versions too old.

She shrugged, released her hold on you and said, "we'll talk about Ivan later. Take care, girlie!"

Shrugging yourself, you turned back towards Gilbert, "sure!" you called and he grinned.

With a wave to Dana, you made your way to Gilbert's car as quickly as you could. There was quite the congregation of cars behind him, and people were looking pretty pissed. Stepping up to the car, you reached for the handle to the back seat when Gilbert called out to you again.

"Wait! Sit up front!" he said, then turned to his brother, "Bruder, get out of the front seat!"

"What? No!" snapped Ludwig, irritated.

"Don't be so unawesome! C'mooooooon!" the silver-haired boy, for lack of a better word, whined.

Letting out a long suffering sigh, the younger, yet more mature, of the two gave in, unbuckling himself and stepping out of the car, holding the door open for you. You nodded gratefully, giving him an awkward as hell smile because he looked kind of scary when he was annoyed, and you really couldn't deal with another enemy in your life.

As you settled in the front seat, and Ludwig got in the back, you noticed that there was another person in the car.

"Hey Feli," you greeted, turning to the Italian boy in the back.

He waved at you with less cheer than he was famous for, "hello!"

He still looked a little worse for wear, but at least he wasn't crying anymore, "I'm sorry about your pasta…"

He smiled sadly, "that's alright, I can always make more pasta…"

"What about his pasta?" asked Gilbert, moving his car (much to the exasperated delight of everyone behind him).

"The table holding our Home Economics projects collapsed," Ludwig explained, "all of the food was ruined."

"No shit?" said Gilbert, surprised, "aw, that's so unawesome! Sorry little guy!"

Again Feliciano tried to convince everyone he was okay, but he was struggling a bit. Honestly, you didn't really understand all the sadness. It was just pasta, it wasn't like his puppy had just died or anything. But with how seriously Ludwig and Gilbert were treating it (and you didn't know which of the two surprised you more) you decided to keep that thought to yourself.

"So…" Gilbert glanced at you, "where do you live?"

You opened your mouth to answer when you caught sight of something out of the corner of your eye that made your blood run cold.

It was Ivan.

Gilbert had just driven past Ivan's parking spot, where the tall boy had been ushering a very terrified looking Toris, Eduard, and Raivis into the back seat of his car, as well as a scary looking girl with long hair, who you assumed to be one of his sisters, into the front passenger's seat. For a split moment, the Russian had looked up and the two of you had made eye contact before the car moved you out of his field of vision.

Sweet Baby Jesus, did you just sign your death certificate?

"…you okay?" asked Gilbert, pulling you out of your shock.

You shook your head, "yeah, I'm good." You then proceeded to give him directions to your house, doing your best to get all thoughts of Ivan out of your head.

The rest of the car ride consisted of you hearing about Gilbert's awesomeness while his brother knocked him down a few pegs every so often with his irritated commentary from the back seat. It was seriously some of the most hilarious shit you'd witnessed in a while. It cheered you up quite a bit and even managed to pull Feliciano out of his funk.

When Gilbert pulled up to your house, you nearly sagged with relief. You always considered the point when you reached your house to be the official end of the school day. And right now, you really wanted nothing to do with school.

"Thanks for the ride, Gilbert," you said, giving him a small smile as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your things.

"No problem," he said with a broad grin, and then stopped you as you stepped out of the car, "oh wait! You never gave me your number!"

You raised an eyebrow, "you never asked for it."

He smirked, "whatever, just give me it!"

You complied, then, shutting the door to his car, you all said your goodbyes, Feliciano waving enthusiastically from the back. And with that, Gilbert drove of down the street towards his own house.

You smiled to yourself. Well, that had been interesting. You walked into your house, intent on finishing your homework quickly and spending the rest of day relaxing.

Only you didn't get to relax.

No more than thirty minutes after Gilbert had dropped you off had he started bugging you with texts, asking if you'd read his blog yet, telling you of some awesome thing his bird just did, asking about his blog yet again and by the sixth text you really wanted to punch Gilbert in the throat.

Maybe he was like that with his friends, you didn't know, but that still didn't make it less annoying to you. Finally, you had to ask him to stop texting you so often (you tried really hard to make yourself not sound like an ass, but it was sort of difficult to do with written word) and he backed off somewhat, to your relief. For a couple hours, he left you alone, but then around eight o' clock, the texts picked up again. You wanted to scream.

Honestly. If you didn't love your cell phone more than most of the female population loved Alexander Rybak, you would've thrown it out the window.

At eight thirty, you received yet another text from Gilbert. You groaned, opening your phone and reading the text.

You froze.

don't hang around ivan. he's bad news. sry i didn't tell u ealier. didnt want 2 freak u out. –G

So that's what those five million texts were all about? He was just building up to this? You frowned, running a hand through your hair.

Ivan didn't want you hanging out with Gilbert, and Gilbert didn't want you hanging out with Ivan. Well, it wasn't like you and Gilbert were friends or anything, but he was kind of fun to hang out with (when he wasn't being an annoying shit), and Ivan was admittedly scary as hell, but he was your partner for at least another week. This was a clear case of tough shit, you were doing it anyway.

Yes, you were getting irritated, all this fuckery about being told what to do really revved up your inner rebellious teenager. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to vent about your feelings before another person fell victim to your bitchiness, you called Dana to bother her with your problems.

After a few rings, she picked up, "hey!"

As soon as she picked up, you talked the hell out of her. You told her about Saturday's events, Sunday's recuperation, your chat with Gilbert during Writing, Gilbert and Ivan's face off in the classroom, your chat with Ivan during Home Ec, the ride home and Gilbert's texts. You told her everything in a jumbled mess of facts and feelings and other teenaged bullshit, barely stopping to catch your breath.

She stayed quiet the whole time, an odd occurrence where Dana was concerned. Finally your story came to an end, and still she remained silent, then, "oh, sweetie, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I don't fucking know," you groaned. You were now on your bed, attempting to smother yourself with your pillow, "it's not like I actively search for shit like this to get involved in…"

She sighed, "you know I'm not good with things like this…"

"No shit," you deadpanned. The last time she'd given you advice you ended up in the hospital with a broken ankle. It was a long story that you'd rather not remember.

"Quiet, you," she said in a warning tone. Then she thought for a minute, "my best advice is to deal with this like you deal with all high school drama, carry on with your business and try your best not to start shit with them."

"Well, gee, why didn't I think of that?" you wondered sarcastically.

"Well, fuck you, too then!" Dana hissed.

"Your mom."

There was a tense pause before the two of you burst into laughter. Ah, the wonders of friendship.

Sure, Dana was shit at giving advice, but having her to talk to always made you feel better.

You rolled over so that you were laying on your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows, "so tell me…any more updates on Cody?"

The two of you then talked until the wee hours of the morning about the girliest shit you could think of. Soon, it became so late that the two of you were practically falling asleep midsentence.

"Dana," you yawned.

"Mmm?" she murmered.

"I think I'm gonna go now…I'm getting pretty…" another yawn, "tired."

"Mkay…I think I'm done for today, too…" she said.

"Dana?"

"Mmm?"

"If somehow this bullshit with Gilbert and Ivan becomes the death of me… I'm finding a way to bring you down with me."

"Whatever you say, girlie. G'night."

"Night."

And with that you hung up and, still in the clothes that you wore to school that day and none of your bed routine done, you let sleep claim you.

To be continued…