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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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“Stay with me, Al.”
Matthew’s touch had always been gentle, feather-light, ethereal and soft, weak but pleasant against Alfred’s skin.
“It’s cold up here,” Alfred smiled, but he would stay anyway.
“I can get the electric blanket,”
Matthew offered hopefully, and Alfred laughed,
“That thing’s always creeped me out…”
Matthew liked to see him grin. Alfred grinned a lot, but it was nice when he grinned for him.
They brushed their teeth together in the bathroom, Matthew offering his brother a spare toothbrush and some toothpaste, he let him borrow his pajamas, too; Matthew was a little thinner and Alfred was a little more built, but, at the end of the day, they more or less wore the same size.
“How’s your…”
They had played three rounds of Smash Brothers Brawl when Matthew spoke up and then trailed off, gazing at his brother and motioning to his forehead, the place where Alfred got a particularly bad bruise in his fight with Ivan earlier that day.
Alfred gazed back for a moment and then emitted a nervous laugh, controller forgotten in his hand partway through selecting the next round,
“This? Oh, that’s nothing…”
Matthew smiled, wondering how much it actually hurt.
“You know…”
He said softly, long fingers moving quickly as he set his mode for the next game,
“you know, that letter…”
Alfred grew quiet, serious now.
“Yeah, what about that?”
Matthew adjusted his glasses at the bridge of his nose.
“I, uh…”
He looked down at his hands, then back up at the screen,
“I—maybe I should, you know…”
Alfred stared back in silence for several moments.
“Maybe you should what…?”
he asked with mild irritation.
Silence.
“Ah—”
Matthew’s long fingers reached to brush a lock of hair behind one ear. He looked down at his hands again.
“I was just thinking,”
he said, then cleared his throat,
“—ah, that is—”
Alfred put his controller down, prepared to face the issue directly.
“No.”
Still looking down, Matthew nodded in silence, lips pressed tightly shut.
Alfred still stared, clearly dissatisfied.
“What are you—are you crazy? Matthew, those girls are a bunch of perverts, you know what they—”
He stopped himself before saying anything more.
Matthew nodded again,
“Yeah. Yeah, Al, I know.”
Alfred stared for a few seconds more, and then spoke up,
“Then why in the hell—”
“I guess I just—”
Silence.
“…just what?!”
“Just—just, I dunno. I—”
Alfred sighed with a great deal of exasperation, putting the controller down at last.
“Matthew, look. If you want a girlfriend—”
“It’s not that. I—I mean, that’s not—”
Alfred exhaled, aware suddenly that Matthew’s response gave him a curious bout of relief.
“That is—”
The boy started again, not looking up from his controller,
“—people don’t usually—”
“Matthew, look, you’re just really innocent, and naïve, and so maybe you don’t understand, but—”
Alfred lowered his voice, taking his brother’s hands in his and seeking his eyes, as though trying hard to convey a very important message,
“—but what they want to—what they already—that’s some really hardcore stuff—”
“I know that, Al…!”
Matthew yelled, surprised suddenly by the tone of his voice. He flushed, growing quiet again as Alfred stared back in shock.
“I—I know, okay—I know.”
Silence.
It suddenly dawned on Alfred that maybe really hardcore stuff was exactly what Matthew wanted. He felt the blood drain from his face.
This is bad, he thought as a creeping sensation of panic began to set in, and he wondered how long Matthew had felt this way, and why. He’d always tried to protect Matthew. Had he been too careful with him? Too wholesome? Head resting in the palm of his hand, he gazed at his brother with obvious dissatisfaction, trying to figure out what was going on.
Had Matthew gotten bored with him, and had actually wanted something more? And now he wanted to let a bunch of perverted women treat him like some cheap—
It pissed him off.
He felt helpless.
Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Matthew absolutely to decline, and, if he did, Matthew probably would—but the fact remained that even if he did decline, he still wanted to accept.
His eyes watched with quiet introspection as his baby brother sat at the other end of the couch, long legs bent casually, feet up on the cushions, hair falling softly over his brow.
I won't be your little boy forever.
Cute little Canada.
So he was curious about dirty things.
Alfred was aggressive and strong, fearless—but even he was too wholesome for stuff like that, too straightforward. All he had ever done with Matthew was purely out of love.
Maybe he should let his brother play, just to get it out of his system.
Did he just think that? Handing Matthew over willingly, to a bunch of rabid—
He slumped backward into the cushions, head hurting from thinking too much.
“What’s wrong, Al?”
Matthew asked softly, gazing up from the TV screen.
Alfred gazed back, deflated and resigned.
“You feel like ice cream? Let’s get some ice cream.”
Matthew blinked. Then he smiled.
“Yeah,” he finally laughed, “let’s get some ice cream.”
They didn’t discuss the letter beyond that, leaving the controllers in a tangled mess on the couch and heading for the kitchen. It really was cold up at Matthew’s house, but they were both intent on having ice cream nonetheless, Matthew’s long fingers gripping at the freezer door as he peered inside and began to hand Alfred the various containers he had stored, some half-eaten and others new, Häagen-Dazs and Ben & Jerry’s and some generic supermarket brand, and also something from a place called Cows Creamery—
They ate in silence for several moments, but neither of them could help smiling.
Matthew was first to speak up.
“Fuck,” he grinned around his spoon, “this is so good.”
Alfred looked back, obviously exerting himself as he tried uselessly to dig through the frozen surface of the ice cream in his tub. His spoon bent backward, and he lifted it out, inspecting it irritably.
“Damn it—”
He grumbled, and then, all at once, he rose from his seat and leaned over the table, taking hold of Matthew’s wrist, forcibly pulling him closer and then closing his mouth around the spoon in his hand.
“H…hey…!”
“Mm, you’re right, this is good.”
“That’s mine—!”
Matthew laughed in surprise, and, as he straightened his spoon back, Alfred replied,
“Yeah well, mine’s hard as a rock.”
Matthew smirked.
“Yeah, haw haw,” Alfred laughed and rolled his eyes, and then repeated himself in a mockingly official voice, “mine’s hard as a rock...!”
“You can microwave that,” Matthew pointed out. He was sitting with his tub of Ben & Jerry's, elbows bent on the tabletop, legs crossed up on his chair, hair tucked behind one ear and gazing down intently as he dug into the container with his spoon.
He was just seriously cute as fuck in that moment.
Alfred stopped mid-stride on his journey to the microwave, laughing suddenly as he threw his arms around the other boy.
“Nnn—!!”
Matthew startled, “hey, hey—!”
Alfred kissed him wetly on the cheek, and Matthew wiped at it absently as his brother made his way to the counter, returning to his food. As Alfred put his container in the microwave, he thought to himself about the letter again, about Matthew, and it pained him to imagine sitting passively by as his brother—
“How long should I put it in for?”
“Maybe like twenty seconds,” Matthew mumbled around his spoon without turning around.
He really loved his ice cream. Like a little kid.
Maybe if I spoke with someone really perverted, I could learn something, and then Matthew wouldn’t want to get with anyone else.
England was really perverted. So were Russia, and France. But Alfred couldn’t come to any of them for help, no way.
The microwave dinged, and Alfred opened the door to get his container out; still frozen solid at the top.
As he poked at it with his spoon, his eyes widened suddenly in a moment of revelation.
Those girls are some of the biggest perverts I know. I should just talk to them directly.
To be continued…
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- 27
- 28
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Matthew is Mine