Pairing: hinted Alfred/Matthew, Matthew/OC (unimportant character though)
Warnings: mentioned sex, weirdness, OOCness, slash
"Yo, Matt! You home, dude?" Alfred hollered, slamming the door behind him.
Matthew's door had been unlocked, again and just like every other time Alfred came over. No matter how many times he told Matthew the dangers of leaving his door unlocked, the younger nation seemed completely uninterested locking his door.
"What if someone tries to invade you?" Alfred had argued, blue eyes electric.
"The last person to invade me was you brother." Matthew had responded quietly, purple eyes unreadable. "And remember what happened after?" A small smirk flitted across the other blond's face, so fast that Alfred would've missed if he hadn't been studying Matthew intensely.
Of course he remembered. Sometimes his chest still ached and sometimes it felt as though his lungs will still filled with that acrid, invasive smoke.
Alfred sighed, a pout forming on his lips when Matthew did not immediately appear to greet him. He thought for a moment that maybe his brother was having issues with his visibility—again—and that Matt was actually across from him. But the house was quiet and, after checking the garage and seeing his brother's car, Alfred concluded that the other was probably either asleep or studying his bear's eyelashes.
Glancing wistfully down at the baseball and gloves in his hands, Alfred then proceeded to toss them into the nearest corner and ambled into the kitchen to explore the contents of the fridge. So much for a friendly game of catch with Matthew.
"Syrup. Syrup. More syrup." Blue eyes darted over each food item but nothing Alfred found seemed appetizing, except maybe the hamburger meat but he was banned from ever cooking in Matthew's kitchen after the Pizza Incident of '88.
Guess he'd just have to eat all of Matthew's chips.
"Come to papa." He murmured, grabbing two bags from the pantry, ripping them both open, and pouring the contents of each into a giant bowl.
Grabbing a fistful, the blond was just about to shove the potato-y goodness into his mouth when a soft creak behind him caught his attention.
Immediately, the superpower whirled around, a ready smile on his face. "Yo, Mattie! I was just wondering when…" Pacific blue eyes hardened as Alfred took in the sight of a young man who was definitely not his younger brother. "Who're you?" He asked, voice low as he stared hard at the stranger.
The young man looked somewhat terrified. "J-james."
Alfred blinked slowly, studying the shaking man before him. It was then he realized that this James was one of his and something in him softened.
"Well, James, you're not some serial killer or deranged psycho are you?" He asked casually, stuffing the chips into his mouth. "'Cause I'll be honest, I'll have to detain you and I'm packin' heat."
James shook his head furiously, his shaggy brown hair falling into his face. "No, I'm a business major."
"I wouldn't necessarily say that's much better." Alfred chuckled, feeling somewhat more at ease knowing that this scrawny guy in front of him wasn't a bloodthirsty killer planning on cannibalizing his baby brother.
(No, he did not have an overly active imagination. It was a justified assumption. Matthew did, after all, tend to attractive some freaks. Holland and Prussia, just to name a few.)
James smiled weakly. "I actually have to leave now. Otherwise he'll wake up and it'll be…" He shifted nervously. "awkward."
Alfred raised a golden brow before realization dawned on his face. "Oh. You and Matt. You…two…oh." He said dumbly, feeling somewhat numb as a dark blush rose on James's face and the young man practically fled from his view, shutting the door behind him.
Alfred let out an unsteady breath, staring down at the bowl of chips in his hands, feeling his appetite bleed away.
Alfred paused, wavering in the doorway of Matthew's bedroom. The nation of Canada was sprawled out on the bed, cotton sheets draped messily over his lower half and face turned away and into the pillow. He couldn't stop the affectionate smile that blossomed on his face.
"Do you plan to stand there all day?" A quiet voice asked, amused.
"Well, I do have a nice view from over here." Alfred quipped, grinning widely when Matthew rolled over and fixed him with a sleepy frown.
"Its creepy." The younger blond admitted. "You just hovering in the doorway." He smiled and patted the empty space next to him. "Want to sit?"
Alfred's smile sharpens minutely. "Not until you change the sheets, bro."
Matthew just stares at him before sighing. "So you saw James." He looks somewhat guilty, twisting away and curling up facing the opposite wall.
It's funny. Its not the first time Alfred has met one of Matthew's one night stands. But it's the same thing every time.
The older nation just shrugs, walking over to his brother's side and nudging him until Matthew grudgingly scoots over. Alfred can feel the heat radiating from Matthew's bare, sun-warmed skin and he sort of wants to glide his fingertips across his brother's chest and maybe drag his fingers down the flat plane of his stomach. When the other nation looks up at him with nervous eyes, biting at his lower lip, Alfred wants to kiss him until Matthew is straining for breath, clawing at his shoulders and whimpering deep in his throat.
But he doesn't do any of those things. Because this is one of those moments where he's not quite sure where he stands with the other and he isn't entirely sure so he just decides to be the big brother who doesn't have pseudo-incestuous fantasies where he's pinning his near-twin to the ground, wrapping Matthew's lean legs around his hips and driving deep into the other's heat while gripping supple skin so hard it bruises.
"He's a business major." Alfred just says, off-handedly. He can't help but imagine James bending over his brother, greedily drinking in all Matthew gave (and Matthew often gave all).
Matthew makes a vaguely interested noise, pushing back stray strands of hair while blinking back the last dregs of sleep.
"Is that your type?" The older blond prompts.
Matthew laughs, a clear, bell-like laugh that makes the blue-eyed nation's stomach twist. His violet eyes shine in mirth and he comfortingly pats Alfred's jean-clad thigh.
"Are you jealous Al?" He asks, voice deliberately innocent. He sits up slowly, sheet falling to pool around his waist. He leans forward, one hand pressed against Alfred's thigh. Matthew's eyes are wide, framed by long lashes unhindered by glasses.
Alfred can smell cologne that Matthew never used and he can see the damning scarlet splotches marring the other's nearly unblemished skin. Part of him is angry, and bristling at the way Matthew is treating him.
Another part of him is almost hurt.
It's times like this Alfred thinks Matthew is genuine. He's not the soft-spoken, beloved son of France. He's not the oft-forgotten colony of England.
He's not everything France and England wanted him to be. Rather, he is everything they taught and were. He is everything he hid away because he didn't want to chase away his guardians.
It is times like this that Matthew indulges the cruelty and frigidity dormant in his heart, the fury and bitterness that twisted him into a monster during wartime. Its times like these that there is more shadow in his eyes and frost on his lips because Matthew is letting his demons see daylight.
But only with Alfred because Alfred cannot leave him because they are too tightly intertwined and dependent on each other.
And even if it weren't so, Alfred cannot see him abandoning Matthew.
Matthew knows this.
"I'm not jealous." Alfred says with an easy laugh, pushing Matthew away and standing to his feet.
Matthew is silent, gaze focused on his bed sheets.
Alfred turns to leave but Matthew's hand shoots out and his thin fingers shoot out to grasp the other's wrist.
"I don't have a type." Matthew admitted quietly, breath catching slightly. His fingers are warm. "Because there is only one person."
Alfred says nothing, head tilting thoughtfully to the side. A small part of him squeals in excitement, hope flaring that maybe, just maybe, that person is him because, really, who else could it be?
But, then he thinks that maybe this is just Matthew being mean and that maybe it means nothing.
And maybe that person is Arthur.
It wouldn't be the first time Matthew chose Arthur over him, after all.
I don't even know. This has been floating around in my head all week and I couldn't get rid of it. I couldn't take it anymore so I quickly typed it out. -shrugs- I know vaguely how to continue it but I don't know. We'll see. Hehe, I have A LOT that I need to complete.