Gosh you guys. Its as though you think I never give England and Canada happy endings. XD Trust me, they get some happy endings. /shot for being perverted. But, seriously, I suppose I write more angst and drama and sex of dubious consent for them. Its just so much fun. So, you guys wanted some happiness, so here it is.

Never let it be said that I don't love you all.

Also, I sort of want to write a Tarzan fic with Jane!Matthew and Tarzan!Arthur. For the sole reason to imagine him in a loin cloth. Otherwise it'd just be a crack!fic where Matthew was raised by polar bears and Arthur somehow ends up meeting him and tries to teach him to be human. There'd be a montage where Matthew learns how to speak English and where Arthur scolds him for trying to rip apart uncooked fish or whatever polar bears eat (seal?) with his teeth and "At least cook it first, Matthew!". And Kumajirou would be Matthew's brother and he's not sure why his brother has no fur so he keeps asking "who?" because he's still not convinced that Matthew is a polar bear and /shot before she can keep rambling about this nonsense

Pairing: You already know ;)

Warnings: slash, OOCness, language, stupidity, some naughtiness, Francis being a pimp, Alfred being a bit of a pervert

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

"Matthew. What the fuck is this?" Alfred asked, voice leaving no room for bullshit, as he held the body pillow up incredulously. "Seriously. What the fuck, broski?"

Matthew didn't even blush. "It's a pillow."

Alfred blinked once and then again and then, with a bit of hysteria in his voice, said, "It's a fucking pillow of Arthur. Of Arthur. You go to sleep with this this—" here he paused to shake the pillow wildly for emphasis, much to Matthew's distress—"next to you. I know you have daddy issues, but seriously, what the fuck?"

"You're going to tear it!" Matthew chided, snatching the pillow and holding it protectively to his chest. Arthur's face, smooshed due to the fact that Matthew was clinging to it, stared out at Alfred with green eyes that promised to haunt his soul. "And it's not that weird." The blond said quietly.

"It is pretty fucking weird."

Matthew gave him a dirty look. "At least I'm not encouraging my mochi to play BDSM games with Russia's."

"For the last time! They're not BDSM games." Alfred huffed. "Just because rope and cattle prods are involved doesn't mean that my mochimerica is into kinky shit."

"Wow. You are an idiot."

"At least I don't snuggle up to that." Alfred pointed at the pillow. "That is all shades of Freudian, Matt. Austria wouldn't even touch all of this." He gestured wildly at all of Matthew. "And they say I'm the weird one."

"It was a gift, if you really must know. Japan would've been offended if I didn't accept."

"…You don't jerk off to that thing do you?"

Alfred suddenly found himself with a face full of Arthur Kirkland.

"I am so embarrassed right now." Francis lamented, face palming elegantly, leaning back dramatically into the metal chair of the out door café he and Alfred were at.

"You're telling me?" Alfred snorted and proceeded to shovel more crepes into his mouth. "He's my brother."

"What?" Francis looked at him. "No, I don't mean embarrassed of Mathieu." He laughed faintly. "I'm more embarrassed to be seen with you. I know Arthur raised you, but knowing my dear eyebrowed friend, he'd have beaten such atrocious table manners out of you so I can't fathom why you eat like a pig."

Alfred stared at the French nation, a smear of powdered sugar on his cheek, and blue eyes innocently wide despite the slight venom to his tone. "Hey Frenchie, you my Boss or my dad? No? Then shut up and focus. We need to either hook up Matthew with Arthur or give him someone else to jerk off to."

Francis pursed his lips and was inclined to make a snide comment, but decided it wasn't worth it because it would probably go over Alfred's head and maybe if he just concentrated on how attractive Alfred was, maybe this entire meeting could be slightly bearable.

"So you're not fucking Arthur, right? Because I know Matthew just needs some tender lovin' from Mother Britannia and he'll stop being so pathetic."

"I have not bedded him in centuries." Francis admitted. "I—"

"Hey, it happens to the best of us, man. It's hard out here for a pimp."

"—If you are implying that I've lost my skills, then I will gladly prove otherwise." Francis said stiffly, blue eyes glinting.

And then the two of them wasted some more time because Alfred then challenged Francis to a bet and Francis then seduced their waitress, a woman walking her dog, and a mime.

"Damn." Alfred whistled as Francis came out from behind the tree, adjusting his silk shirt. "I am pretty impressed."

"As you should be." Francis said lightly, tossing his hair a bit, smirking smugly.

"So how're we going to hook up Matthew and Arthur?"

"Just leave it to me."

"You have exactly ten seconds to get off my lawn or I will set the hounds on you." Arthur casually took a swig from his bottle of rum. "I'm already two sheets to the wind, Liverpool just lost to Manchester and I don't know yet if I'm celebrating or mourning so I have no time to deal with French swine."

"Mathieu's in trouble."

Arthur blinked slowly, thoughtfully taking another swig of rum, pinky out. "Is that the one with the koala?"

"No."

"The one with pigtails?"

"That's a girl."

Arthur's face twisted up, green eyes squinting up at the sun as he thought very hard. "…The one who suggested burning down that ingrate's White House and called you several very vulgar things back in '67?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I like that one. Let me go wash my face and pack some scones and then you'll drive me to the airport."

And Arthur stumbled back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Francis just sighed.

"It was for your own good, Matt. So…stop crying. …Please?"

Matthew only sobbed harder, burying his face in Kumajirou's fur. Alfred shuffled awkwardly, only now realizing how attached his brother was to that stupid pillow.

Maybe NASA could somehow get that rocket to turn around.

Now that Arthur's blood alcohol content had returned to normal, the English nation, nursing a slight hangover, was able to think clearly.

"So what sort of trouble is Matthew in?" Arthur asked, half slumped over his tray table. He glared at the woman across the aisle that was giving him a disdainful look.

"He's sick."

At this Arthur sat straight up, thick eyebrows furrowed. "What's happened?"

Francis, who had been thumbing through an issue of Sky Mall magazine until that point, dropped it in his lap and sighed, one hand splayed over his heart. "Its his heart."

"Is Ottawa under siege? Is it Alfred? I knew that Manifest Destiny nonsense wasn't out of his blood yet. I knew I should've locked Matthew in that tower. I had it all built, you know. It's a little outside Somerset and Matthew would probably learn to like it there." Arthur started fumbling with his seatbelt. "I'm going to go tell the captain to hurry up. He'll understand—"

Francis rolled his eyes and stopped the frantic Englishman by placing his hand on his forearm. "Calm yourself, Arthur. You're making a scene. I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

Arthur gave him a dirty look and sat back down with a huff. "Would you stop being so damn vague?"

"He's heartsick." Francis said grandly. "He pines, unable to eat, sleep, or even enjoy the finer pleasures of life!"

"…What?"

"He's in love!" The Frenchman continued, grabbing Arthur's face and pushing his cheeks together, much to the other's consternation. "We must comfort our baby!"

Arthur's green eyes hardened as he slapped away the other's hands. "Poppycock. Matthew is not a flighty libertine. Granted, he took a little bit after you but he's not that French. And if you expect me to believe he's withering away from lovesickness—"

"He had a body pillow of his love."

Arthur looked as though he was forced to eat Alfred's red, white, and blue birthday cake. "Liar." He hissed, packing an impressive amount of hatred into one work.

"He slept with it." Oh, Francis was a smarmy bastard. And a proud one at that.

Arthur's face turned red and he was clenching his jaw.

How delightful.

Matthew had managed to stop crying, instead choosing to focus on his rage and hurt and channel it into something more productive.

Like making Alfred cry like a little bitch.

"You're such a selfish, fat bastard! Your selfishness is only second to your waistline!" He vented, cheeks flushed from anger. "Its bad enough that Arthur barely even looks at me thanks to your big, stupid ass but you won't even let me pretend that he could love me! And it was a gift! Japan saw just how pathetic I was and gave it to me, wishing that I would one day be happy! But, no, you just can't stand the thought of that, can you?" Matthew was getting into it now. All he could feel was the red-hot anger pulsing in his stomach and the sound of wind rushing in his ears and the room had narrowed down to his unrequited affection and his pain and the fact that Alfred ruined everything for him.

Oh shit. Now he was crying again.

"I've loved him for so long and he doesn't even notice me and do you know how horrible that is?" His breath is coming faster and faster and his cheeks are wet and he has to sit down before he falls to his knees. "It's pathetic, I know but what else can I do?"

And he's only ten minutes into his rant and he hasn't even said a quarter of the things he wants but his chest feels constricted. He covers his face with his hands and just slumps over, trembling.

And when he feels Alfred's arms come around him, he's half tempted to shove him off and he does try but Alfred is too strong (like always, goddamn) and just hangs on despite his brother's furious pushing.

"Hey, hey, Matt." Alfred whispers into his hair. And Matthew can smell worn leather and Old Spice and ketchup and he finds himself calming down the more Alfred rocks him. "I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to help."

"You made things worse." Matthew snapped, trying to summon up the dregs of his anger but he really just feels bad now.

"But I'm going to make them better." Alfred said cheerfully, his knees bumping into Matthew's. "I called Francis and he's bringing Arthur so we're going to hook you two up. Isn't that great?"

Matthew is horrified.

And then the doorbell rings.

"Ringing the doorbell over and over will not change the fact that Mathieu is in love and you can't do a thing about it. Its like that time with Trudeau all over again."

"For the last time, I was not jealous then and I'm not jealous now." Arthur snapped. "And nothing happened between him and that man."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Arthur glared at Francis. "And don't give me that smirk. It was perfectly innocent."

Francis's grin seemed to widen, taking on a more rakish air. "Mathieu was quite enamored."

"You're bleeding all over my flowerbeds." Matthew gasped upon opening the door.

"Your begonias!" Alfred shouted, pushing his brother out of the way and staring in horror at the mangled flowers.

Arthur looked up, not pausing in his strangling of Francis. "Terribly sorry, Matthew. Just close the door and let me finish dealing with this derelict. That's a love." He leaned his head back, avoiding Francis's attempts to claw out his eyes. Suddenly, Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Have you been crying?"

Matthew's violet eyes widened and he rushed to scrub at his eyes. "N-no!"

"Your nose is pink and you sound congested." Arthur glanced over him critically. "And your eyes always look more plumish after you cry."

"Plumish?" Francis wheezed, face tinged blue. He still managed a chuckle. "As opposed to—"

"Well, usually, his eyes are this soft shade of violet." Arthur said, a little unthinkingly.

He realized the implications of his words half a beat later and he quickly went back to shoving the Frenchman's head into the mulch as Matthew blushed.

"So, you got a plan, Frenchie?" Alfred whispered loudly.

Francis groaned and glared a little at the American.

Alfred looked sheepish. "Oh right, you were nearly choked to death. My bad."

"So." Arthur began, giving Matthew a rather imperious look from above his teacup. "What is this I hear about you being in love?"

Matthew choked on his tea, a little bit dribbling out the corner of his mouth. Arthur tsked and reached over with a handkerchief, wiping away the liquid with a firm touch.

"You're not a colony anymore, lad." Arthur said before he seemed to go over his word and he seemed to soften a little, absently still dabbing at the corner of Matthew's lips thoughtfully.

Arthur wasn't really the nostalgic type. But, sometimes, times like these, he couldn't help but think back and wonder just where things went right and where they went horribly wrong.

Thankfully, sitting here at Matthew's kitchen table, drinking tea and looking at the boy properly, he, though wistful, he didn't dwell on the bad because he was here, wasn't he? And Matthew didn't hate him and though there was some bitter, distasteful things between them, blood and battle and tears and unresolved things that might never be dealt with, Arthur didn't have to work too hard to convince himself that this was okay.

"It's not Prussia, is it?" Arthur asked, grimacing. "Because I am grudgingly giving you my approval but I will withdraw it if it's him."

Matthew gives him a wistful, half-smile, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly. "It's not him." He admitted. "I think you'd approve, but it's hopeless."

He kindly did not mention that he didn't really need Arthur's blessing or approval for anything, but he was fairly certain they were having a moment so he didn't want to ruin it.

"Change of plans, dude." Alfred sighed, squatting next to the sofa where Francis was recuperating. "I don't think we're needed anymore."

Francis looked disappointed.

"I know, I know. I should probably cancel the order for fireworks and burn the maid outfit before Mattie sees it."

Francis looked desolate.

"And I should probably tell the mariachi band that we don't need them. Damn and Juan was so excited too. He's been my go-to guy for mariachi."

Okay, Francis just looked confused now, but the sentiment remained.

They were unneeded to play matchmaker.

"Ungrateful bastards." Alfred said emphatically.

Francis nodded emphatically.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

"Yes. He'll never love me." Matthew sighed.

"Oh thank heavens." Arthur sighed in relief.

Matthew gave him a hurt look. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"On second thought—" Alfred grinned, hearing Matthew's normally soft voice gradually rise in volume.

"No, really, what is that supposed to mean?" Matthew demanded, hands curled into fists and his body held taut.

"Matthew, dear, you misunderstand."

"Then correct me, Arthur." Matthew said, quietly. "Because I'm not a child anymore and I know when you're being cruel and I really don't want to think that so please don't get my hopes up."

"I have never been cruel to you intentionally."

"I know and that's what makes it so much harder to bear."

And the two are just staring at each other and, fortunately, Alfred bursts in just then with a still hoarse Francis behind him. But before he can say anything, Arthur starts to speak.

"I am not perfect, Matthew, I know this. But I have never enjoyed causing you distress, whether intentional or not. You're very dear to me and I always assumed you knew that."

"You have a terrible way of showing it." Matthew said quietly. "I can never really be certain."

"You can be certain now. I'm here and even though I thought you were in trouble and it turned out to be some stupid infatuation with a stupid man who doesn't even deserve to be in your gaze or walk beside you, let alone your affections—and why the fuck are you two laughing?" He snapped suddenly, glaring at Alfred and Francis who were desperately trying to hold in their laughter.

Matthew even had a tiny smirk on his face. "If you knew, you'd probably laugh too, Arthur."

The sandy-haired man huffed and shook his head. "Whatever. Just know that I'm here now and even though I'm not happy, I suppose I can try and get this idiot—and stop laughing!" Arthur snarled, eyebrows bristling. "Honestly, show some resp—mmph!"

He suddenly found himself with an armful of warm Canadian kissing him very softly.

And Matthew pulled back enough, lips fluttering against Arthur's, to whisper, "It is kind of funny." He teased.

Arthur just stared for a full minute.

Oh.

Oh.

Then, "You had a body pillow of me?"

"This is all your fault." Prime Minister Harper said, looking very displeased.

"I'm inclined to agree." Prime Minister Cameron added.

"Fair enough." President Obama sighed.

President Sarkozy just shrugged. "At least they had the courtesy to shut the door. Francis doesn't even bother sometimes."

"Yeah, sorry about this, Juan." Alfred sighed loudly into the phone. "I was excited too. Yeah, say hi to the wife and kids for me." He flipped his cell phone shut and glared at Matthew and Arthur. "Hope you two are happy. This is the second time I've had to cancel on Juan."

"Pity." Arthur murmured, far more interested in the shape of Matthew's lips as he lightly traced the swell of his lower lip. "You like this, don't you?" He said in quiet wonderment.

Matthew only nodded, his lanky frame sprawled in Arthur's lap, mouth slightly parted and eyes hooded. He leaned forward, mumbling something inaudible, as Arthur's finger pressed a little deeper, harder against the inside of his lip.

"See, Matt? This is way better than a stupid pillow." Alfred said brightly before his face fell. "Though its only slightly less weird."

"Hush." Francis scolded, azure eyes intent on the pair. Matthew's knees were sliding further apart on the leather couch as he pressed more firmly against Arthur. "He's going to unbutton his trousers now."

Arthur shot the two voyeurs a glare over Matthew's shoulder. Matthew, too, glanced over, annoyed, at the pair.

"Get out." They said in unison.

"What? We can't enjoy the fruits of our labor?" Alfred complained, grudgingly following Francis out of the room. "How selfish."

"Indeed." Francis agreed.

"Last time I ever invite those two over for movie/pizza/mariachi night."

"We could still—"

"I still remember the Movie Night of '95, Frenchie. If you even think about touching my junk once I will turn your face inside out."

Also, happy (early-ish) Canada day, Canadians! Go set off fireworks and get drunk for Canada!

And go check out that UKCan tumblr (fuckyeahukcan . tumblr . com) too. It's pretty awesome. Go check it out. Check it out for Canada.