Chapter 5

. . .

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: This. Baby. Won't. Stop. Crying.

Name: Gilbert Beilschmidt
Status: Aw sorry birdie, I know you need your beauty sleep. I'll make up for it tomorrow, I promise! D:

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: Oh, god. Why does it feel like you "making it up to me" will only end us up in detention or something?

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: And did you just say "beauty sleep?"

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: Gil?

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: GILBERT.

Name: Alfred F. Jones
Status: OH HEY MATTIE! YOU'RE STILL AWAKE?

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: Yes, and you should know, considering the fact that we're in the same house.

Name: Alfred F. Jones
Current mood: Sad

Name: Matthew Williams
Status: Go to sleep, Alfred.

Matthew woke up in the morning to the (irritating) beeping of his alarm clock, his head pounding with a less-than-desirable headache. He groped blindly at the bedside table and finally found the alarm clock; he slammed a hand down on it rather violently.

"Kill me," he groaned, flopping over and burying his face into his pillow.

The baby simulator hadn't stopped crying until well past one in the morning. More than several times, Francis and Arthur had come in and asked if they could leave it outside for the night - well, Arthur did. Francis had mumbled, "Isn't there an off button? Mon dieu" while Arthur suggested irately, "Throw the bloody thing out the window and leave it there for the night."

But Matthew had persevered. After numerous diaper changes, the doll finally quieted, and Matthew had been allowed his well-deserved sleep.

Of course, though, that happiness didn't really last long; his fist slamming (and probably breaking) the alarm clock acted as a trigger for the doll. A few seconds later, it started wailing.

Matthew hissed some curses in French, wrenching himself into an upright position. At least it was Friday. Gilbert was so taking the thing home during the weekend.

"Mattie!" came his brother's voice from next door. There were a few thuds as he presumably pounded his fist against the wall. "Make it stop." He made sure to put on his best whiny voice.

"I'm trying," replied Matthew tiredly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, glaring at the doll. It was on the floor, its eyes glowing dimly as shrieks emitted from its perpetually gaping mouth. It was in the same position as it had fallen in when Matthew tried to stuff it into his drawer.

(It didn't fit, so he just left it on the floor.)

"There, there," he cooed. He picked up the "poor" thing and cradled it in his arms. "Do you want some milk, baby?" He exited his room in favor of searching for water in the kitchen.

Arthur was already there, drinking a glass of orange juice. The Englishman's expression turned pained when he saw Matthew enter. "Does that thing ever stop crying?" he asked, eye twitching dangerously.

"As soon as I feed it something." Matthew set it on the counter and opening the refrigerator. Arthur watched curiously as the boy poured himself a glass of orange juice, then proceeded to slide the liquid into the doll's hand.

The action was even complete with comforting pats and Matthew whispering, "There, there" as the crying ceased.

Arthur couldn't help but smile. "You look like you'd be able to handle yourself well."

In return, Matthew flashed him a look that said "What-are-you-talking-about-don't-you-see-these-bags-under-my-eyes?"

"Morning, Dad!" Alfred bounded into the kitchen with a happy grin plastered onto his face. "Aw, you're feeding it!" He beamed at the sight of his little brother feeding his so-called child.

Matthew huffed, setting the glass of empty orange juice down. "Where's yours?" he asked, too tired to argue.

"Kiku took it home with him," Alfred replied. He swung himself onto a barstool. "He's so polite, man. He won't stop calling our baby 'Johnny-kun.' "

"It sounds like you two get along, though," Matthew said wistfully. He sighed and shook his head to himself. "I'm gonna go change. Can you drive me to school today? I think that if I bring the doll on the bus, it'll just cry the whole time..."

Alfred grinned broadly. "Of course!" he said, glad that he could finally feel like a proud big brother. Oh, Alfred. Such little things brought great joy to him at times.

Matthew smiled. "Thanks, Al." He shuffled out of the kitchen back to his room to change.

At least the baby wasn't crying anymore.

Name: Ludwig Beilschmidt
Status: Someone please tell me what I've done to deserve this.

Name: Gilbert Beilschmidt
Status: Oh just start driving, Luddy! We have to get to school before Matt!

Students found themselves being rudely pushed aside as one Gilbert Beilschmidt dashed hurriedly throughout the halls. "Move it, people!" Gilbert shouted encouragingly on his mad race to Matthew's locker. "I'm a man on a mission!"

"Ow!"

"Hey, watch it!"

"Why is he carrying those flowers...?"

Oh, right. He was also carrying an armful of tulips(because he'd manage to wheedle out of Lars via sucking up that Matthew liked tulips). 701, 701, come on, where are you...

In between red petals, he finally caught sight of the shiny metal plate that read those three numbers. It was a bottom locker, and Gilbert had to kneel down to be level with it. He had rested the overflowing bouquet of red tulips on the floor and was about to break into the locker when there came a cough from behind him.

When he turned, lo and behold, there was Matthew, standing there with their baby in hand. "Um, hi, Gil?" he said slowly, expression uncomfortable.

Fuck. There went that plan. "Hey, birdie!" Gilbert grinned, determined to make the best of what he had left of the plan. "I heard you liked tulips, so I got some for you!" He gathered the flowers into his arms again before presenting him to the standing boy.

"F-For me?" Matthew looked caught off-guard, and there was a softness in his eyes that Gilbert had never seen before. He liked it. "Thanks, Gilbert..." He accepted the flowers into his arms, almost dropping the doll in the process. Then he smiled, and Gilbert stopped himself from swooning because that was unawesome.

Instead, he just widened his grin. "Well, you're my wife now, after all!" he said cheekily.

He was expecting a snarky reply from the Canadian, but Matthew just laughed. "I guess so," he said, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Gilbert was content with basking in the limelight forevermore, but a third voice cut in, "Oh, what do we have here?" Both boys turned their heads and saw Lars standing there, a half smile on his face. His hair was as messy as ever. "Looks like you two are getting along."

Yep, we're getting alone just fine, Gilbert thought in a fit of...joyous rage? Did such an emotion even exist? "So, birdie," he said, trying to ignore how Matthew suddenly seemed more interested in gawking at Lars.

"Hm?" Matthew turned back to him, a dazed smile on his lips.

Gilbert wanted that smile to be directed at him and no one else. "Since we're the parents of that baby and shit, I was wondering if you'd want to stay at my house over the weekend."

Lars was called away by his sister. To Gilbert's delight, Matthew didn't seem to notice now.

"We have a spare bedroom," he continued. "Though if you want, you can always stay with me in my room." He couldn't help but chuckle perversely.

To his surprise, Matthew agreed. He'd knelt down to open his locker and put away the tulips. "As long as you promise not to try anything weird, eh?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Gilbert said solemnly. He was tempted to salute, but refrained.

Matthew glanced up at him and smiled again. "That sounds great then," he said, voice suddenly turning shy.

Gilbert just wanted to squish that adorable Canadian. "Awesome!" he crowed. "You can hitch a ride home with me, Luddy, and Feli again!"

"Gil, I'll have to get some things if I'm going to sleep over..."

"Oh, right!"

Matthew laughed at him, but Gilbert was too busy bursting with excitement. At that moment, he couldn't even bring himself to mentally gloat at Lars. His mission was accomplished: Matthew Williams was officially staying at his house over the weekend.

A/N: I plan for some more deeper stuff to happen at that sleepover. Getting to know each other better and whatnot. And maybe some fluff, who knows? :D

/trying to act casually about how long I've been ignoring this poor story