This story arose from a thought of "what would happen if Arthur could never say 'I love you' after the Revolution yet someone was in love with him and told him so?" And so, this.

"I wuv you Arfur!"

"I love you, too, Alfred."

Arthur grinned down at the small child before him, the little angel. His beautiful blonde hair with its cowlick blew about in the wind and his blue eyes glittered with energy, excitement and love. He grinned back before tugging at Arthur's hand, wanting him to follow. Arthur did so, smiling at the child.

Then the little boy grew impatient and let go of Arthur's hand, running off into the distance. Arthur chuckled at this childish behaviour until he ran behind a tree and out of sight. "A-Alfred?" he called, a little alarmed. He sped up and rounded the tree. He almost ran into a young man in a blue military outfit. "Ah! So-" he began but stopped short when he saw the man's appearance. He had blonde with a familiar cowlick and beautiful blue eyes. However, there was no love present as they looked towards him.

"Alfred?" whispered Arthur a little fearfully.

"What?" asked the man.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Arthur sighed. "I was worried. Well, let's go home. I'll make you lots of chips."

"Why?"

"'Why'?" repeated Arthur with a laugh. "Well, because I love you, of course." He smiled at the grown Alfred who stared blankly back.

"You still love me?"

"Well, of course. You love me too, don't you?" As soon as he asked, he became fearful of the answer. His heart hurt and he felt as if he couldn't breathe. He had to fight back the tears as he waited on an answer.

"No." Alfred's eyes were hard and Arthur felt a tear escape. This couldn't be happening, he decided. He had heard wrong. "I hate you," Alfred continued.

Arthur felt his world collapse. They had been in an open meadow, a lone tree interrupting it. Everything had been bright and beautiful. Now it all seemed dark and twisted, mocking the Englishman, the tree reaching to drag him into the abyss. He stumbled a little but managed to catch himself.

Alfred watched this with disinterest before suddenly turning and walking away. He didn't look back. Arthur gasped and began to rush after him. "Alfred!" he cried out in alarm, reaching out to him. Once more he stumbled. However, this time, he kept falling, the image of Alfred's back disappearing into the distant darkness that threatened to swallow Arthur. He gave a small sob as he lost sight of his precious brother.

Arthur sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and breathing heavily. He clutched at the quilt, his hand bunched into a fist as he tried to calm himself. He passed a hand across his brow. Was it nearing the end of June already? He sighed, threw the quilt off and swung his legs off the bed.

Before he could stand, however, there was a knock on his bedroom door. For a moment, he wildly thought it was Alfred. Then he remembered what time of the year it was and where the American would be. He frowned for a moment, thinking on who it was before calling out for them to come in.

The door opened to reveal someone who looked very like Alfred except for the curl and the violet eyes. He was carrying a small tray with tea. The man smiled softly at Arthur. "I made you some tea to waken you up a little," he said, quietly.

"Ah, thank you-" Arthur hesitated to remember the name.

"Matthew," the Canadian provided with a wince.

"Ah, yes, sorry." Arthur reached out for the tea and Matthew set the tray on the bedside table. He lifted the cup and saucer and handed them to the Brit who accepted it with a nod of thanks. "I had a... rather distracting dream... My head isn't in order yet."

Matthew nodded. "A nightmare," he said matter-of-factly.

Arthur glanced up at him with obvious alarm. Matthew was looking down at him with a kind, understanding expression. He had always been good with his perception. Arthur sighed and nodded before taking a sip of his tea. He smiled at the taste – he could always trust Matthew to make good tea, even if it was usually maple. Today, though, he had used Arthur's own English Breakfast Tea – probably because it had breakfast in the title.

"Well, once I've woken more, why don't I make us some breakfast and we can continue with our work?" Arthur suggested.

"It's alright," Matthew said, smiling a little more. "Francis is already taking care of that."

"Francis?!" exclaimed Arthur, almost spilling his tea. "What's the Frog doing here?!"

Matthew frowned a little. "Well, I'm not sure... But he's making breakfast. Then we can get to work, eh?"

Arthur clicked his tongue in annoyance but nodded and sipped at his tea. "Let me just get ready and I'll come down to join you." He set the cup and saucer on the table and stood, stretching. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and an old t-shirt – he had been too tired to find his pyjamas and had pulled these on instead. He spotted Matthew watching and blushed. "I-I'll go have a shower," he said, rubbing at his neck. He turned from the Canadian and walked off, tugging his t-shirt straight – it had been falling off one shoulder.

Half an hour later, Arthur entered the kitchen in a short sleeved shirt and a pair of smart jeans. He glared at Francis whose expression changed from happy to annoyed for a brief second before he smiled at the Englishman.

"Bonjour, Angleterre," he said. "What would you like to eat?"

Arthur gazed at the kitchen table. It was filled with food. Croissants and pain au chocolats along with various other pastries and fruits. A jug of orange juice had been prepared and there were a lot more condiments than normal. Arthur grimaced. He didn't believe it would be possible to eat all of this – the French way of eating was rather strange.

He sat down and shrugged. "Whichever you would suggest."

Francis thought for a moment before placing a fresh croissant and pain au chocolat on a plate and handing it to the newly awoken man. Arthur yawned and took it, pouring himself some orange juice and began to eat. He looked up across the table and thought he was looking at Alfred before reminding himself it was Matthew; he almost choked on a mouthful of pastry and chocolate until he realised.

"Eh, Arthur..." said Matthew hesitantly.

"Hm?" was the only reply he received.

"While you were in your shower, the phone rang, eh. And it was Alfred." Arthur's head snapped up to look at him with a frown. Matthew appeared to be agitated. "He's... eh... coming to visit..."

Arthur froze before swallowing his mouthful to reply. "Ah, yes. When? Some time in July, I suppose?"

"No. Today."

Arthur stared at Matthew. The Canadian looked at him, a worried expression on his face. "T-Today?" breathed Arthur. "But... Why? He's busy, is he not?"

"Well..."

"It looks as though you could use a cup of tea, mon cher," Francis interrupted them. "Wait just a moment." Francis went to the tea cupboard and grabbed a box at random before flicking the kettle on to boil. He retrieved a teapot and some cups before going to the fridge to fetch the milk. He froze with his head inside. "Ah."

Arthur, who had been trying to calm himself from having a panic attack – the dream had really shaken him – glanced round. Matthew rose from his chair. "Quel est le problème?" he asked, walking towards Francis.

"Il n'y a pas plus de lait," Francis explained to Matthew, glancing at the Brit.

"Eh..." replied Matthew, also glancing at Arthur. Arthur looked at them, his brow furrowing a little as he heard the French – it annoyed him to have it spoken in his house. Unfortunately, he was still feeling too panicked to scold them. He watched as Matthew made a decision. "Arthur, we need to go buy some more food for you. Will you be okay on your own?" Francis looked a little puzzled as Arthur nodded.

It was after Arthur had cleaned up the breakfast things that he heard the knock on the door. He frowned. Had he ordered anything? Was it someone delivering paperwork? His mind flashed to Alfred but he dismissed this – he could not have arrived so soon after calling. He went to the front door and opened it, peering out into the sunshine.

"Yo, Arthur!" exclaimed Alfred with a grin. He was wearing a t-shirt with a Captain America shield on it and a pair of worn jeans. A bag was slung over his shoulder.

Arthur tried to close the door.

"Hey! What're you doing?!" exclaimed Alfred, slamming a hand against the closing door and pushing against it. Arthur's grip on the handle slipped and the door banged into the wall.

"Oi!" exclaimed Arthur, angry.

"You have to let me in! It's important!"

"Huh?" Arthur barely had time to move aside as Alfred pushed past him and into the hallway. With a sigh, Arthur closed the door and turned. He folded his arms and glared at Alfred.

"Let's go sit down," Alfred said, grabbing Arthur's hand. Before the Englishman could protest, he dragged him into his own living room. He let go when he reached the couch and collapsed into it. Arthur winced, fearful his weight would break it. He sat down on the other end and looked at the American.

"What is it?" Arthur demanded, glaring at him.

"I love you, Arthur."

Arthur stared. Had he just heard that? Was he hearing things? Was this another dream? He could feel himself tearing up as his heart was pulled in several different directions. "W-Wha-? Why...?"

"I love you as family, Arthur."

Arthur stared wide-eyed for a moment before his expression changed. He glared at Alfred before speaking. "Is this a joke? Do you think this is funny?" He stood up. "I'm going to make some tea. Get out of my house."

"No! Wait-!" Arthur felt a grip on his wrist and he was pulled backwards. Losing his balance, he fell onto the couch closer to Alfred than he had been. Shocked, his eyes wide, a blush on his cheeks, he turned to the American, glaring. His expression softened, however, when he saw the worried and anxious look on Alfred's face. Was he actually being serious? "I told you I love you," Alfred continued. "What do you say to that?"

"I- What? What do you want me to say? You're not being serious!" Arthur gave a harsh laugh. "And even if you do, you'll tell me you hate me and leave me. Everyone does that." A sad look crossed Arthur's face before he glowered at Alfred. "What is the meaning of this, Alfred? Why are you lying to me?"

"If... If anyone told you that, would you accept it or would you be suspicious?"

Arthur wrenched his arm from Alfred's grip. "I don't know what you would want me to say in such a situation-"

"Tell me you love me!"

The sound of the slap rang around the room for a few seconds after it had hit. Arthur's eyes were bulging with shock and anger. He stood up and glared down at Alfred, panting. Alfred, in turn, looked up at Arthur, a red mark on his face and tears in his eyes from the force of the blow.

"How- How dare you?!" exclaimed Arthur. "Don't you dare ever tell me to say something like that to you! I will never say that to you ever again!"

Alfred looked at him sadly before taking a breath and standing to speak. "I don't want you to say it to me. But there is someone who will tell you those same words soon. You have to respond. You have to tell them you love them!"

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do, Alfred! I can decide for myself whether I- Regardless, just because you tell me to, won't make me."

"But could you say it to someone if they told you that. And if you loved them. Will you say it?"

Arthur glared up at the American. Then his expression softened and he sighed. He turned away from Alfred and shook his head. "Everyone I once loved left me. How can I say something like that so easily again?"

There was a noise behind him as if Alfred wanted to say something but couldn't. Then silence reigned for a few minutes until, all of a sudden, they heard the front door open. "We're back!" called the soft voice of Matthew. The general clatter of people moving about in the kitchen filtered through to them before, finally, the two men looked at each other. Alfred looked worried: Arthur was wearing a weary expression. Alfred sighed before walking to the door and, after taking deep breaths at the door, rushed through with a loud laugh. He was going to pretend their conversation had not happened. Arthur wondered why...

Later, Alfred was tucked up in bed – the jet lag and running around had tired him out. Francis had drunk a lot of wine in his efforts to keep up with what Alfred was talking about and had passed out drunk in Arthur's bed (he had somehow found his way to that room and Arthur had found him in there). Also exhausted, Arthur accepted the maple tea from Matthew with a relieved smile. "Thank you," he said as he took the cup. He sipped it in relief.

"Are you okay, Arthur?" asked Matthew, all of a sudden.

Arthur looked up and found himself staring into Matthew's violet eyes. He seemed to know that there had been something troubling Arthur all day. The Brit averted his eyes.

"Well, just a stupid dream. And Alfred's..." He trailed off, trying to make it sound as if it was to do with the time of year. When he glanced back up, however, Matthew was still staring at him as if he knew there was something else on his mind. Then he looked down at his own cup and sighed.

"I have something I need to tell you, Arthur," he said.

"Hm?"

Matthew took a breath. "I want you to know that, when I became independent of you, it wasn't because I disliked living with you. I loved it, in fact. It was just so that, as a country, I could grow. I could grow and become as equal to you as I could."

"Why are you bringing this up now?" asked Arthur, grimacing. He was feeling a little on edge. This subject was the one that hurt him the most and Matthew knew this. What exactly did he need to tell him?

"Well, you think that everyone who left you hated you. But I didn't. And I still don't. I loved you as a brother for so long. And then, when Alfred left you, it was painful to watch you break apart. Because I loved you. And I still do."

Arthur stared at Matthew who was looking at his cup. The light glinted off his glasses and Arthur blinked before he spoke. "You... You want me... to be... your brother... again?" he asked, hesitantly.

Matthew looked up. "No. I love you, Arthur."

They stared at each other for a few moments. Then both of them reddened and tried to speak. Arthur finally managed to say something. "W-What...?"

"Eh, well, you don't need to respond. I know how difficult it is for you to trust people now. With those words. I-I'll let you think about it. Eh... Well, I should be going. I, eh, have work to do. Eh. I have to get a plane. Eh. Well... Eh..." Flustered, Matthew rose and hurriedly set his cup on the coffee table. "Au revoir, Arthur," he added. For a moment he seemed to be about to reach towards his former brother. Then he turned and left the room.

Arthur stared at the space where he had been, still processing what had just happened. Then his eyes flickered down to Matthew's cup and he gazed at it. What should he do now?

I hope you all don't mind it being Maple Tea - I wanted to try a different pairing. Also, I didn't want it to be USUK despite Alfred saying "I love you". I hope you like it!