Title: Sitting on a Bench Being Rained on. A cliché! With a twist!
Pairing: Pre-PruCan.
Summery: You know how in so many stories, Matthew manages to find his way to a bench in the rain, and Gilbert appears out of nowhere to comfort him? Well, this time it's Gilbert on the hot seat. Or... Rain soaked seat, if you will.
A/N: The totally awesome idea was requested by Ayla The Librarian! Thank you very very much, I had fun writing it! Enjoy!

"Goddamnit it, Gilbert! I shouldn't have to control your life!" The usually stoic German-American yelled to his older brother. This was a usual occurrence in the Beilschmidt brothers household. Ludwig would yell at Gilbert for doing something stupid, Gilbert would storm out and do something stupid, and the next night he'd be scolded by Ludwig for doing something stupid.

The man he was yelling at was a rather handsome albino and self proclaimed 'awesome-boy'. "I'm not asking you to!" He challenged. He liked beer. He really did. The first step to all his wrong doings was going to a bar and getting drunk.

"It seems like have to, because I know what you're too immature and incompetent to even think of taking care of yourself! I have to force you to do everything, except getting drunk to the point of uselessness. You're exceptionally good at that. And no, it's not a fucking compliment!"

"Yeah! Well," Gilbert's brow furrowed. "that's unawesome of you to say..." He trailed off and the harsher than usual berating started to sink in. "Maybe I wouldn't do such" he made invisible quote marks in the air "'stupid things' If you stopped treating me like I was your son or something!"

"Sometimes it feels like you are." Ludwig spat back, unwilling to be 'taught a lesson' by his immature brother.

The albino's face twisted up and he grabbed his coat. Quickly making it to the door as he pulled his arms through the sleeves. There it was, the feeling of inadequacy. A terrible feeling, really. "You know," he didn't bother turning around. He didn't want his brother to see the emotion written on his face. "I thought this shit would stop when vatter died." He let out a dark chuckle. "I guess not. I see you're still trying to be the goody two shoes son even when he's not here to praise your for it. How nice, bruder." And with that he was out the door. Ludwig sighed and ran a hand threw his perfectly gelled hair. He wandered over to the fridge where he grabbed a cold beer and than shuffled over to the sofa and sat down. He briefly wondered when everything went wrong, but chose to not think about it and watched some mind numbing television.

-pagebreak-

One thing Gilbert hated was being sober. His mind was clear, yet it was more jumbled and confused than ever. It gave him a false sense of breathing space and continued to choke him with his own existence. He needed out, he needed something, anything, just to make everything stop. He needed to forget his fathers voice, he needed to forget Ludwig's scoldings, he needed to forget. He needed money. He'd left too fast, he needed to get away from his father- no - his brother and he forgot to grab his wallet. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stuck in the rain with no money, no I.D., and a buzzing sober mind to boot. He'd call up Francis or maybe Antonio if he hadn't forgotten his phone as well. Awesome.

Sitting on a rain soaked bench, becoming a rain soaked albino was not how he wanted to spend his evening. He couldn't go back to the house, and he was too far away to walk to any friend's houses. So many possibilities, yet they were all so far away. Such was his life. His poor, meaningless, pitiful, unawesome life... When did rain start to taste like salt?

Oh.

"Fuck." He cursed at himself. Just great, he thought, fucking perfect. Such was his life, such will his life ever be. Of course he cried. He only cried when he was sober, which is truthfully not often. Not that he cried much in the first place, no, tonight is just a bad night for poor Gilbert. Terrible, stupid, incompetent, arrogant... That's Gilbert's characteristics, not the characteristics of the evening. The albino pulled at his hair, frustrated, depressed. He needed beer and he needed it NOW!

"E-excuse me, sir?" Gilbert's head shot up and his red eyes, red rimmed from tears and red from natural albinism, locked with concerned violet eyes. "O-oh my. A-are you okay?"

Gilbert let his sober mind run wild with the question. Was he alright? Obviously not. He was sober. Of course there was more to it. The feeling of inadequacy, depression, anger, hate, loneliness... "I'm fine." He choked out.

The violet eyed stranger took a seat next to our troubled albino, the rain soaked him enough that he didn't care what little damage a wet wooden bench would do to his back-side. "Wh-when I say I'm fine, I-I'm really not." Is voice wavered, nervous about telling a stranger that fact, nervous in general.

"Peh." Gilbert spat. He was trying to act tough, trying to keep his reputation strong. He wouldn't break in front of the broken. He wouldn't break in front of anyone.

"Yo-u're g-going to, ah, c-catch a-a cold out-out here." He stood from the bench, excess water cascaded down his rain coat, and gently took Gilbert's arm. An uncharacteristic sign of forwardness. "You can stay a-at my house fo-for tonight." The albino didn't budge. He wouldn't break. Violet had seen to much. "P-please, sir. I can't go home kn-knowing that someone's sitting on a bench in the middle of th-the rain!" Gilbert sighed and let the young man pull him to his feet. "C-come now." He began walking, still holding onto Gilbert's fore-arm, and Gilbert trailed behind a step of two as though he was in a daze. "A-ah, I'm M-Ma-M-M-" He licked his lips and took a deep breath, why Gilbert noticed these things, he had no idea. "Matthew. Matthew Williams." Violet-no-Matthew concluded.

"Your stuttering reminds me of a bird singing." Was all Gilbert said. He'd given up, why would he care anyway. He asked for anything to make everything stop, and things were stopping, shutting down one by one. Matthew blushed, if it was from embarrassment or being complimented, Gilbert couldn't tell. It didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered to him.

It wasn't long before the two made it to Matthew's apartment complex and along the way Matthew managed to get that the albino's name was Gilbert, nothing else. He planned to get more information in a calmer atmosphere. Gilbert noticed that Matthews apartment was not far from his own house he shared with his brother.

Matthew stripped his sopping wet rain coat and hung it over some newspaper, he helped Gilbert get out of his coat and did the same, over the news print. "I-I'll go g-get you some clothes, o-okay?" he pattered away, much dryer than the albino thanks to having a water-proof coat. He came back a minute later, having changed clothes himself. "I believe these will fit." He mumbled. "Y-you can ch-change in the b-bathroom. It's o-over there. First d-door on the left."

Gilbert stood still for a few seconds, but it was starting to become obvious that Matthew was uncomfortable with all the water that was dripping off of his clothing and onto the wooden floor. "'Kay." he mumbled as he shuffled to the bathroom to change. When he came out in the surprisingly comfortable clothing he was greeted by the sound of something being stirred. He managed to find his way to the kitchen and saw that the wavy haired blonde was cooking something. "What are you making?"

Matthew jumped, seemingly lost in his own world while he was cooking, might've even forgot that he wasn't alone in his house like he usually was. "Pancakes." He said after he gathered himself.

Pancakes? Gilbert said to himself. Pancakes were breakfast foods, and last time he checked it was dark out, and in the evening. He wasn't going to say anything, though. He grunted and sat down at the hightop counter.

"After bei-being in the rain, I-I love to warm u-up with home-made pancakes a-and m-maple syrup!" He explained, though no explanation was asked. "I also ha-have some milk heating f-for hot-chocolate." He was obviously brightened up by the prospects of his own home cooked meal. Gilbert, on the other hand, was wondering if the blonde had any beer, but he grunted out approval anyways. He didn't want to upset the young man and be kicked out of yet another house tonight.

After the pancakes and hot-chocolate was done and everything was set correctly at the dining room table, they dug in. Well, Matthew did. Gilbert stared at his pancakes, not sure if it was actually the taste he wanted in his mouth at the moment. It's not. His mind reminded. You want beer.

"You should p-put maple syrup on those and d-d-d-dig in!" Matthew pushed the glass bottle towards the albino. Gilbert stared at it for a moment before thinking; what did he have to lose? He dumped a fair amount over his pancakes and took a modest bite. For a moment, everything really did stop, but everything came back in a rush, one that can only be seen on highways, and a little more. Soon his modest bite turned into shoving half a syrup soaked pancake into his mouth and than he became a human vacuum and the pancakes were gone and left no trace of ever being there. "Like them, did you?" Matthew giggled, finishing his own portion as well.

"Like them?" Gilbert said, a little life having been brought back to him. "This is the most awesome fucking meal I've ever eaten!" The blonde blushed at the compliment and smiled back.

"Y-you really th-think so?" The stutter reappearing at full force. "The-they're not th-that good." He mumbled.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Gilbert spat, luckily he'd swallowed the sip of hot-chocolate a second before. It was very god as well, might I add. "This was great, amazing, awesome!" Everything you'd like too be. His mind added and Gilbert fell quiet.

"W-well, th-thank you." Matthew said before noticing the albino's sudden mood drop. "G-Gilbert? E-everything okay?"

"Yeah." Gilbert muttered. "Could I have some more cocoa?" He asked, changing the subject. Matthew hesitated, but nodded and got up grabbing both Gilbert's and his own cup and heading to the kitchen.

Gilbert shook his head. Why was he here? Why hadn't he just walked to the store to get beer. Why had he chosen to sit on the damn bench. He stared over at his empty plate and frowned. Empty, just like- He actually managed to laugh at himself. He was thinking like some kind of self conscious teenage girl! Of course, Matthew chose the moment when Gilbert was laughing like a crazy man to come walking back into the kitchen.

"G-Gilbert?" He asked as he set the refilled mug in front of the albino. "A-are you o-okay?" He sat down on his chair again, staring at his guest.

Gilbert, having found a bit of light-heartedness in making fun of himself held up his hands and shook his head. "I'm pretty fuckin' great." said he, before picking up his mug and taking a long sip of the burning liquid.

The blonde smiled softly. "O-oh. Ok-okay." He also returned to his cocoa, letting the albino plague his mind and asking himself questions about the man that he'd obviously not know the answers to unless he asked the German-American himself. During his silence there was many points where he opened his mouth to ask one of those questions that were currently engraving themselves into his brain, but he found that his anxiety just wasn't letting him actually ask them.

The both of them had finished their mugs before the Canadian finally worked up enough courage to open his mouth and make sound. "A-ah, s-so, G-"

Only to be interrupted. "Hey, kid, it's getting' late."

Matthew decided to give up and just fold his hands on his lap, it really wasn't his business after all. "Y-yes, i-it is."

Gilbert looked at the ceiling, figuring he just made the situation much more awkward. Though, to be honest, he really was feeling better about himself. Maybe he should hang around with the stuttering blonde more often. It really did help any qualms about his own speaking patterns. "So, yeah, thanks and shit, but I really should be heading home. My bruder's probably wondering where I am." If he even cares. No, he was happy, remember.

"O-oh." Matthre nodded. "I-I suppose so."

The albino awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up from the table and gathered his clothes. "I, umm, I'll just return these clothes another time. That sound good?"

"Y-yeah."

He looked at the door and rubbed the back of his neck. "And maybe we could hang again. Those pancakes were pretty fantastic.."

The Canadian brightened considerably. "Yeah, eh. I-I'd like that." He stayed seated and watched as the albino left his apartment. There's always be another time to figure out what was bothering the man. As long as he was able to help.

DAT ENDING. Anyways, it's been forever, hasn't it! Be,nsdkjdn I just suck. But thanks for reading and reviewing the last chapters. (and this one if you do!)

Just a note, for Canada's overbearing stutter I used Me as a subject and made it more like how a person would actuality talk if they had a stutter~ Yay for me!

Oh, and I love cliché requests, so if you have any don't hesitate to ask! (It can even be for other pairings. Anything to get my muse pumping!)

Thanks for reading~~!