Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Am I Surprised?

"Bye mister," the second year said, swinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.

"Have a good day..." he tried to remember her name.

"Denmark," she giggled.

"Denmark," he repeated. When everyone left I was still sitting in my spot, staring at him. He came up to me and sighed. "Hi Russia."

I didn't hold back. "Papa....how?" I gasped. He took my hands, and rubbed the tops with his thumbs affectionately like he used to when I was younger.

"I lost my last job," he said very quickly, looking down. "I didn't want to tell you. So that you wouldn't worry. U.K. found me a job here. I have a certification for applied maths, and they need a professor. I took the job." He looked back up, his eyes guilty and worried.

"What about Ukraine? And Belarus, and Kazakhstan?"

"They're here," he whispered. "Well, not now. Soon, we'll be moving here. It is all planned out."

My eyes involuntary rounded. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He nodded. He stood up and brushed off his coat. "I think you should go now. I wouldn't want you to be late."

I hugged him goodbye. "Bye."

"See you soon." He waved. I dashed out of the class towards the arts building. I had dance next. At least moving to ballet music would clear my head. I was sceptical of taking arts classes before, but I realised they were an excellent filler, and they didn't assign homework. So maybe I've softened to them. Just a little bit. Even though the girl I dance with says that my grip is too strong and that I crush her fingers. Right. As if she doesn't dig her nails into my shoulders and step on my feet. But I seldom complain, since dancing in pairs isn't a usual thing we do. Today we weren't even dancing to ballet, but to tango. I was placed with a different girl this time, and she didn't ever say anything. Good.

I was the first to pack up and leave the class this time. Usually I'm the last. As I came out, I saw Germany leaning against one of the poles that were commonly seen here. He was waiting for me.

"Hi," he smiled as I approached.

"Why are you here so early?" I asked, hugging him.

"I may or may not have class right next to you," he pointed to an adjacent classroom. "I'm taking more painting."

"And how is it going?"

"Bad. At least, that's what my professor thinks."

"They say that?"

"No. Her face says it when she comes to me." He laughed. "How was your Applied Mathematics? You were very excited for it." I motioned for us to go while we talked.

I scratched my neck. "Yeah...I was..."

"What's wrong? Boring professor?"

"No. Surprising professor."

"In what way?" He looked up at me, his amber eyes flashing with curiosity.

"Let me put it this way. The simple way. The professor is father."

Germany stopped instantly. It was almost comic how he slowly turned around, half opened his mouth, and then chortled and forced a laugh. He did so for five whole minutes straight. "You're kidding." He said seriously.

"No. I don't kid."

"But how?" He scrunched his brow in thought.

"He didn't even say. He said he lost his job and Mr. UK provided him with this one." I rolled my eyes like a rebellious adolescent. "Like that explains it."