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Matthew is Mine	By : flagfish Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 9688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
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Hundreds of years ago, long before Alfred and Matthew ever were born—
Incandescent glow of candles in the chandelier, the warm and tremulous cascade of wine, luxuriant, velvety soft, Arthur drunk in Francis’ strong arms, led with proficient mastery across the dance floor,
Tonight, beloved, you’re mine.
Arthur’s eyes glimmered emerald green, brilliant, forgetful, his laughter reverberating fluid throughout the large hall,
I’ll kill you, you wine bastard, I’ll kill you—
I’ll kill you, Francis’ lips red and hot against the naked expanse of his neck, vulnerably exposed as he’d tilted his head back, the room spinning, dipped across Francis’ thigh, spikes of yellow hair swaying in his wake, and Francis laughed, too,
Kill me then, do it.
It was Arthur who kissed Francis then, long fingers coming on either side of his stubbled cheeks, drawing him down with fervor unrestrained, I hate you, I hate you, I’ll kill you a thousand times, and then I’ll kill you again—
He was warm, feverishly warm, tremulous, awake and alive, voice quivering and hoarse as he slurred murderous threats of eternal vengeance at his older counterpart, and they fell unto Francis like glittering gusts of silver and gold as he kissed him back with anticipation of all still to come.
A hundred pairs of eyes followed with stifled laughter and polite reserve as Francis lifted Arthur in his arms and carried him up the grand stairwell, struggling to maintain his balance as, slender arms slung around his neck, Arthur continued to kiss him all along their ascent.
* * *
Alfred’s hand came all at once on Matthew’s eyes.
“A-ahahahaha…!”
He laughed a fake American laugh, flashing Russia and France a thousand Watt smile,
“I see you guys were just getting the hell out of here so that I can set up my presentation…!”
“A—Alfred—”
Matthew murmured, long fingers trying weakly to pry away his brother’s palm, to no avail.
Grin still plastered to his face, Alfred watched with composed irritation as Ivan and Francis took their time dressing and leaving the room, Francis having the gall to actually wink at Alfred and blow him a kiss on his departure.
“You’re next,”
Ivan sang mancingly, smiling with mockery of good-natured affection.
“Yeah? Awesome, I can’t wait…!”
Alfred sang back, laughing as he slammed the door shut after them.
“Assholes,”
He muttered to Matthew, finally moving his hand away from the boy’s eyes, and Matthew took the opportunity to straighten his glasses back into place and smooth out the hairs that have gotten frazzled in his brother’s grasp.
“God, I can’t believe I left you with them last night,”
Alfred added, beginning to unzip his bag and remove his laptop. As he turned the thing on and began to pull up his presentation, Matthew had wandered to the window, gazing out unto the lawn where others had begun to arrive. He realized he didn’t remember who had been at the party, and what exactly he drank, or how he ended up the way he did—
Did they notice me? Does that mean people actually noticed me?
“Check it, Matt,”
Alfred grinned, gazing at his screen for a few moments before turning around to the overhead projection of the display, and Matthew turned to look, as well. When Alfred hit a key to switch the slide, there came the sound effect of a loud explosion, and, smiling excitedly, Alfred imitated it, motioning with his hands,
“Ka-blam…! Awesome, huh?”
Matthew laughed.
“Yeah, heh. That’s pretty neat, Al.”
“Damn straight.”
Matthew's pale blue eyes gazed over the specular surface of the large oak table, and he wondered to himself when exactly Ivan and Francis had gotten there, realizing they must have stayed the night together to have both arrived at the same extra early time.
He found himself curious.
And a little—
Jealous?
When Alfred slept with Arthur all those years ago, Matthew was acutely aware of it all, politely awaiting his breakfast as Francis sang softly to himself at the stove.
Still in his pajamas, he watched sleepily as Papa’s slender hands moved quickly and with elegant grace, stirring something in the frying pan, apron tied neatly at the small of his back.
"Ne t'en fais pas, mon trésor,"
Don’t you worry, my treasure,
He said gently without turning around,
"Il ne fait que passer à travers une phase rebelle,"
He’s’ just going through a rebellious phase.
"Ah, c'est comme cela..."
Ah, is that so,
Matthew attempted a smile, "Enfin, je ne crois pas que c'est si pire..."
Well, I suppose that isn’t so bad…
But within him he felt the most curious pang of hurt, and even he didn’t really understand why.
"Ah, je sais ce que tu aimerais..."
Ah, I know just what you like…
Francis smiled gently as he turned to one of the cupboards, long fingers searching through and emerging ultimately with a large container of syrup.
Matthew gazed with patient curiosity, smiling despite himself as he watched Francis set the thing down and unfasten the lid.
"Rajoutons juste un peu de ceci..."
Let’s just add a little bit of this…
He grinned, and Matthew could tell he was trying to ease his pain, and he blushed inwardly, realizing that there was pain in Francis’ voice, too.
"C'est juste une phase, papa,"
It’s just a phase, Papa,
Matthew said very softly, and, wooden spoon in hand, Francis turned around slowly to face him then.
The sunlight streamed in clear through the kitchen window, illuminating Francis’ hair in a golden haze.
“Ah, petit bougre, tu t'en fais pour moi?"
Ah, you silly little thing. Are you worried about me?
He asked, red lips curved in a knowing smile, and he was beautiful in that moment, a comforting presence, all gentleness and affectionate grace.
"Viens ici,"
Come here,
His long arms unfolded as he waited for Matthew to come into his embrace, and, spoon still in hand, he gently drew the boy close to himself.
"Et pourquoi je ne t'apprendrai pas à faire... les meilleures crèpes au monde..."
Why don’t I teach you how to make the most…amazing crepes in the world…
He whispered in Matthew’s ear, as though it were a very taboo, well-kept secret he’d never told anyone before.
Head nestled in the warm crook of Francis’ neck, Matthew smiled, laughing softly in response.
"Cela serai bien…"
Sounds good…
he said, and Francis smiled back, even though he knew Matthew would respond exactly the same way if Arthur had asked whether he’d like some of his gravy-soaked roast dinner.
* * *
“And that is why we need to blow up those thirteen countries…!”
Alfred concluded with a big smile, fist coming down on the podium for emphasis,
“Matthew, would you mind passing around the handouts?”
“S—sure—”
Matthew replied softly, long fingers reaching for the stack on the tabletop nearby.
“Matthew’s here?”
Ivan joked, and, obviously doing something inappropriate under the table, Francis crooned back to him,
“I’d think you’d recognize him a little better after we screwed him on Saturday…”
Matthew blushed, and Alfred’s hands slammed down on the table. He glared bloody murder at Francis in that moment, completely prepared to tear him to bits.
“So there’s two more nations I’m thinking of blowing up…!”
He laughed angrily through clenched teeth as he kept a tight rein on his temper.
“Really?”
Ivan asked with a lighthearted smile, “And which nations are those?”
Now Alfred actually lunged forth in Ivan’s direction, and, jumping to his feet, Arthur grasped at his abdomen from behind, fighting with all this strength to hold him down.
“You idiot, you’ll bring us all down with you…!”
Matthew watched with mute horror as this unfolded, slender fingers clutching nervously at the stack of papers still in his hands.
“Ah—”
He said very softly,
“I—I’m glad France recognized me—”
But nobody was listening at this point, Alfred already strangling Ivan with mild success, Arthur attempting to wrestle him off and Ivan laughing with vast amusement, because, frankly, it quite tickled.
Beside Ludwig and Feliciano, Kiku watched with reserved composure, realizing that he perhaps was the only one present at the party who’d been sober enough to know exactly all that transpired that night.
To be continued…
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Matthew is Mine