Title: Movie Night

Fandom: Axis Powers: Hetalia

Rating: K+

Genre: Fluff :D

Pairing: USCan

Summary: Alfred suddenly forces a movie night on Matthew, who is not amused. Who knew there was an ulterior motive all along?

(A/N): …at long last, I've finished this story for the amazing Hetalia-Canada-DJ on DA. I got stuck, so sorry for the wait! I hope you like it, DJ!

Disclaimer: No.

Movie Night

An Axis Powers: Hetalia fanfiction

"Dude, wake up!'

With a groggy snort, Canada, othwerwise known as Matthew Williams, peeled his face from the granite counter, blinking back sleepy tears. Alfred F. Jones, alternatively the United States of America stood in front of him, staring at the other quizzically and loaded full up with bags of snacks and soda.

"S-S-Sorry…" The Canadian stifled back a yawn, adjusting his glasses. "Look Al, I uh, just got a lot of work done today, and I'm kinda tired, so maybe we could put this off until another time…?" This ended on a slightly hopeful note, but that hope was dashed as Alfred dumped his stash on the counter with a slightly horrified look on his face.

"What? No! I've been planning this, like, forever!" Blue eyes instantly widened, turning all the puppy-eye power they could muster on poor Matthew, who groaned and hung his head.

He really hadn't been expecting Alfred to appear on his doorstep, demanding to be let in. Or that he'd have a stack of movies with him, all in the horror-genre, proclaiming the night to be a movie night, of all things. After a full day of working with his boss, and the stack of documents he still had to finish on his desk…

Alfred was tugging at his arm, obliviously cheerful again.

"So which one should we watch first?" he was asking, spreading several shiny covers out in front of him. Matthew sighed, sat up straighter, and resigned himself to his fate. Upon closer inspection though, all of the DVDs had some sort of horrible, looming creature in the background, with frightened looking victims cowering away. And they all looked terribly… terribly cheesy.

"Uh…" The Canadian sat there, feeling quite flustered since honestly he didn't want to watch any of them. He silently counted in his mind.

"…How about that one?" he suggested weakly, pointing in a vague gesture at the second from the left. This DVD sported a shadowy sort of ruin, a group of what to be hikers cowering at the sides.

And so the DVD was snatched up, the others shoved to the side as Alfred ran to set it up, leaving Matthew in charge of the various snacks and drinks dumped on the counter. Another groan. He just wanted some sleep…

"Mattiiiiieee! C'mon, bring the stuff!" came the holler from the living room, "Oh, and your bear kinda helped himself to the chips, I dunno if it's okay for him to eat them…."

"W-What? Kumakiku, don't eat those!"

The lights were dimmed. Food was strewn across Matthew's good coffee table, while the large-screen plasma TV that he normally used for watching hockey games projected the image of two humans, edging along a grimy, cobweb-laced corridor in some sort of hospital building.

"B-But Jack! It could be around any corner! What in the world are we going to do?" the female protagonist was sobbing, clinging to the main hero's arm while he held a bloody medical tool in his hand.

"Don't worry Susan, we'll get out of here… as soon as we destroy that thing… we must do it, for the good of mankind!" the main hero said gravely, right as the pair of them paused by a dark, suspicious looking doorway.

Seconds later a pair of slimy appendages shot out of nowhere to rip the hero away, cueing frightening orchestral music and plenty of high-pitched screams. Alfred screamed right along with them, clutching his brother in a grip that would fairly paralyze most, and burrowing his face in his shoulder. Despite this he was back to staring wide-eyed at the screen in record time, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Matthew himself was valiantly resisting the urge to yawn, eyelids drooping dangerously. He'd lost track of the plot a long time ago. Instead he could only curse the American at his side, and wonder how soon he could get away.

The first movie had started off as expected; disk went in, Alfred noisily snacked on popcorn, Matthew seated himself on the couch as the film began.

Not surprisingly, hardly fifteen minutes had passed when his brother was glued to his hip and screaming in terror. It even developed into a pattern; a lull, the American would watch the screen in rigid anticipation, slurping down a drink or scarfing down any snack in reach until the next scene of scripted horror came.

Then he'd be all over the couch and Matthew would be subjected to whatever Alfred did to calm himself down. One moment he might find the other in his lap, or face shoved in his shoulder/stomach/back, and one time even seized and held like some sort of living teddy bear.

Needless to say, the Canadian was not amused. There wasn't much he could do though with Alfred's freakish strength, hence each time he felt himself seized around the waist, he didn't event try to fight back.

When the movie was finally over, Matthew was relieved, moving to get up off the couch… only to be pulled right back down.

"Wh-Where are you going?" Alfred demanded, pale and shaking, but with an honest question in his eyes.

"But… the movie's over…eh?" his brother said, confused. Nantucket fluttered furiously as Alfred shook his head.

"No way! We've still got to watch the others! This is a Movie Night bro, you can't watch only one!"

…Minutes later the American was cowering at his side, whimpering under his breath and clutching Matthew's arm in a death grip, effectively cutting off the blood flow.

…Why his brother subjected himself to this, he would never know. Everyone knew of his fascination with horror films—America made so many of them!— and equally, everyone knew he was utterly terrified by them.

Why are you watching them? Why Why Why do you have to watch them! Came Matthew's numb thought, as the television flashed, and Alfred was screaming in his ear on how scary it was…

For the second movie, Matthew didn't focus so much on the story than on his brother. Not once did Alfred tear his eyes away from the screen; sky blue eyes wide as they took in every movement, and in some strange way, he found it rather endearing. In fact, Alfred was reminding him of a child. His needy grabs, the way he clutched at Matthew with a hint of desperation, his whimpers, gasps, (maybe not screams) and other odd little noises he made through the course of time, all something one usually wouldn't see from the nation any other day.

That, and despite the wild grabs he constantly made, Alfred was really rather gentle with his fellow movie viewer. His strong arms were never held too tight (well, sometimes. Right now Matthew couldn't feel his arm very much), and the way he would bury himself at Matthew's side made him just more aware of how the American would nuzzle him frantically, usually trying to not look at the screen but always failing.

…Huh. Actually, his brother was just a little bit adorable in this situation. Even the little tears of fear at the corners of his eyes he found quite cu…

Matthew busily spent the rest of the movie absorbed in the plight of a cursed young woman.

The third movie was getting to be a little much. By then he was so drowsy that he'd find himself nodding off, completely tuned out of pretty much everything. His head fell forward for the countless time. Funny, he couldn't hold it up. Why, he couldn't even hear Alfred's screams anymore…

…Unknown to the tired, dozing Canadian, Alfred had gone silent, watching his brother carefully as his eyes fluttered shut. Matthew had finally crashed for good, still clutched in Alfred's arms from a recent bout of hysteria. Now, for the first time the American completely ignored the screen and reached for the remote, slowly as to not wake the other up. With an expert flick of the wrist, the sound from the television faded to a muted silence. Only the picture remained, flashing on and off in the space of the dark living room.

"Heh. I win," he spoke, the first real sentence in the past few hours, and then he cracked the tiniest of smiles.

Alfred F. Jones had come to Matthew William's house on a mission. It hadn't been for a horror movie marathon; it hadn't been so he'd have someone to watch it with, to help stave of the terror of watching alone.

He'd come for Matthew himself.

It wasn't any large secret the effect horrors movies had on him; he was well aware of that. It was an image he worked very hard to keep up—and luckily didn't need any effort at all. The other nations were so accustomed to his usual dumb-blondness, they accepted his obsession with the roll of an eye and not much else.

Don't get him wrong; Alfred really was frightened by horror movies…

…Just not as much as he acted they did.

And now, curled up on the couch, the American carefully shifted the sleeping form of his brother to a more comfortable position—on his lap, leaning against the other's broad chest, his hair just tickling underneath his chin, and satisfied with achieving the ultimate goal.

"…Man, I should come over more when you're tired," he said, grinning. "I didn't think you'd just fall asleep on me." He carefully brushed a strand of hair from Matthew's face, and removed the glassed sliding down his nose. "You're so cute when you sleep, Mattie…. You are asleep, right?"

Alfred prodded his cheek. Matthew mumbled sleepily, but made no other move.

"Oh yeah! The damsel always ends up in the Hero's arms!" his brother said happily, laughing quietly to himself. Then his smile faded slightly. Leaning against the back of the couch, he cradled the sleeper in his arms, watching the rise and fall of Matthew's chest in thoughtful contemplation.

"I wish we could hang out more like this…" Alfred spoke again, this time just above a whisper. "You never let me hold you so much anyway… except if I spring a movie on you. Haha, how's that?" he chuckled a little sadly. "But then, it's not like you know…"

Ever so gently, the American pressed a kiss in Matthew's golden hair, lips lingering for just a little longer before he pulled away. There was a blanket thrown haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and Alfred stretch out his arm to reach it. With it he threw the warm covering over both of them, taking care to make sure the Candian was properly covered. In the morning, he knew he'd explain the position as one out fear; he had been too afraid to move around in the dark house, let alone sleep by himself, etc etc…

It was moments like these that made it all worthwhile, though. As the television was shut off, leaving the room in darkness, Alfred snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around his brother... Yet unable to say the words he wanted to, unable to bring himself to speak…

Something else would have to do for now.

"G'night, Mattie," he whispered. "I'll see you in the morning."

Oh… this turned out a little more one-sided that I planned… But then, I was writing something else before this, got horribly stuck, and started over. It's my first USCan/any sort of pairing thing... Oh well, I like it. And it's the first post of the year! Now I've just got to finish that one-shot for ReallyBigAnimeFan.

-Thanks for reading!