Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

A Nightmare For Both Sides

"Oh, no. Just for the work week." He said hurriedly. "At the least."

What could possibly go wrong? I didn't want to say no. I play my cards to my advantage. "Sure."

"I know you have young children. I'm sure there us something I can do about it. Because the job will be on site. Here, at my island. I have a variety of schools to choose from if you ever will need." He paused. "Does that sound fine?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Nope. I was lost with what he wanted to do.

"So you do applied maths and physics, right,"

"I'm certified. Haven't done much of it, though."

"Oh, good. Certainly being certified is good." He was pleased with my answer. "Unfortunately, at my school two of my professors just retired. Coincidentally, in those fields. Before I could file an announcement, I heard of your very regrettable situation and decided to maybe give you a chance? Would you, Soviet, be interested in teaching at my university?"

This time, I was surprised. Shocked. Just appalled. That doesn't mean I'm going to say 'I will think it over'. I am an opportunist now. "Yes, why not?" Though I tried to sound confident, my voice shook.

"Ah, I knew you would accept! Marvellous. Maybe you could come here, or I could come to you somehow to discuss logistics and all of your other questions?"

"Definitely."

"I was thinking as soon as possible. Maybe tomorrow, at my estate, at nine o'clock?"

"Sounds fine." I quickly scribbled down the date and time, along with the address he dictated out. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, good day," he hung up. Though it wasn't what I expected, it was still a good title. It wasn't until the next hour when I started to think everything though and my mind began to process all of my quick and rash decisions. Wait, I can teach young adults? Is that even possible? I didn't have much patience with my own self, much rather with a bunch of sarcastic intellectuals. Leaving the door open, I went to go smoke outside. I almost inhaled the whole cigarette when a thought came in my head. My son is at that school. With the career path he wants to pursue, I just might be his professor. I was dumbfounded beyond belief. On one hand, I need a job. Secondly, I couldn't pass up the benefits and the salary. On the other, to see, interact, and teach not only other students, but my own children....it was all too confusing. At around sixteen o'clock, Belarus came home and I told her everything. Her eyes glittered with happiness when I said that.

"Yay! That would be great," she clapped. "For you, papa, and for us. You could work there, see Russia, and we could too."

"If you say so..." I felt a bit more confident with Belarus agreeing and looking very happy. It lightened my mood. I left her outside with the chickens while I drove and picked up Kazakhstan from his day care. Ukraine was already home by then, and obviously filled in by Belarus, because he too was excited.

"Papa, Belarus is right. It would be good."

"Yes, but..."

"You didn't decline, right?" Ukraine's eyes went round. I usually need these types of conversations with a negative response.

"No, but I didn't think anything through, either." That didn't really stop them from yammering on the whole night. At least they were smiling. It was too long since they smiled. Even I did so more when I was their age. Goes to show how responsible I am. I had to drive through the night to arrive the next day at Britain's estate. Shouldn't be that hard.

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Alright. That was pretty hard. I rolled up into Britain's driveway at four o'clock, at the crack of dawn. I didn't want them to think I was insane, so I drifted off in the car till seven thirty. I was awoken by Britain's son, who rapped the glass of my car. He thought I was some homeless man. Very funny, hilarious indeed. After some explaining, millions of apologies from him, I trudged up their doorstep, and was greeted by France. She was very enthusiastic, and piled a plate of pastries for me. She made me eat all of them while I waited for Britain. He came down shortly, wearing a bright pink bathrobe and light blue slippers. He was very surprised and embarrassed to see me. Little did he know, I didn't actually particularly care.

"Ah, good morning Soviet," he smiled nervously. "Ahm, sorry for this. I didn't realise you'd come so early,"

"That's alright. It's mostly I am afraid to be late," I shook my head in response. He quickly dashed upstairs after he exchanged words with his wife in French. Their eldest son kissed his mother goodbye and drove off on his pickup truck. Britain came down in his usual repertoire, and at down opposite of me with his coffee at hand. In his other, a stack of papers.

"Would you like some?" France asked me kindly, holding a lot of coffee. I politely declined, but she poured me the black liquid anyway, setting down milk and cream as well.

"So, the logistics," Britain started. "I assume you would like the job?" France hovered over her husband for a little bit, and then also left for her workplace.

"Yes, of course. I'd be happy to." I thought this through the night while I drove. I realised that I wouldn't get a second chance, and I would take this seeming opportunity of a lifetime.

"I normally don't take in people without a teaching certification, but...I think I can make exceptions here," he gave me a smile. "Since I know you, and you have a...Ah, applied maths certificate, correct?"

"Yes," I pulled up an electronic copy of it from my phone.

"Oh, good," he seemed impressed at my readiness to present documents. In truth, I always was paranoid that documents would disappear or rip or burn, so I held three electronic and ten paper based copies at hand. You can't be too prepared. "Now, the process goes like this: you'll have about two to three classes a day. Two undergraduate and a graduate class. You might even have a PhD student as well, but that will be discussed later. Here is a model timetable," he gave me a schedule of the previous professor's. It looked relatively simple. An undergraduate class in the morning, a graduate intensive class in the afternoon along with a low intensity undergraduate, and an evening PhD student advisory.

"It looks good," I handed him back the schedule. "The timetable does not worry me. It is my-,"

"Housing. Children." Britain finished for me. "Yes. Here is what I came up with." He told me what he thought. My two children would be enrolled in a British private school, and Kazakhstan could be taken care of partly by France, partly by a local day care. There was no cost (except for the day care) and it was relatively simple to follow. I would only need to find housing, while Britain found me a little apartment to rent out. Perfect. I actually had little tears in my eyes when he finished. "Something wrong, Soviet?"

"Oh, no," I smiled. "I'm just...happy. That you took time to help me,"

"Well, it's my job. To help people," he seemed flustered by my thanks. "You're very welcome." He was very shocked when I suddenly hugged him very tightly. There were still many roadblocks and tweaks to iron out, but I knew that now things would go smoother. I would finally have a grounding pillar in my life. Funny how I never used to have one.