Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Suicide by Proxy	By : tamasama Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2305 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis powers or any of the characters depicted herein. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to the events of any person's life, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
- 1-Introduction
- 2-Love
- 3-Lust
- 4-Hate
- 5-Envy
- 4
- 5
Envy

The leaves were a brilliant shade of reddish orange, most of them littering the ground rather than clinging uselessly to the branches of trees. Matthew busied himself outside by raking up the persistent leaves, glad that the work was helping fight against the bite of the chilly wind. Soon the first snow would fall and he would spend most of his winter in his home with Kumafrija, sipping on cocoa and playing Scrabble. He considered going to pay Alfred a visit but every time he looked at him all he could think of was That Woman. It just wasn't fair, she was dead but he was still jealous of her and what she had done with his brother. Alfred had betrayed him by taking That Woman as some sort of pet and yeah, he would admit it, it had hurt. Apparently America didn't care about his feelings on the matter at all and now all Matthew could do at night was toss and turn and wonder where Alfred was and what he was doing. He was texting him all the time, asking him where he was and when America would ask why he could only come up with some lame answer like 'Dunno, jst brd. Txt me ltr, k?'

If he had supposedly fallen in love with one of his people, then who was to stop it from happening again? The trust in their relationship was totally ruined and it made the young Canadian so angry to know that Alfred would do something so outlandish in the first place that he could barely stand it. Having finished raking the leaves into two tall piles he jogged back a few feet and turned to look at it. It looked fun, so he ran towards it and dove in, scattering leaves every which way and undoing a good hour's worth of work. He lay face down in the fragrant leaves and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. Fall sure smelled good. If only he could tell him how he felt. If only it were that easy, and they could come together and form some kind of pact or something that bonded them for the rest of their lives. "I suppose they call that marriage." He mumbled into the red, yellow, and orange bed of vegetation he lay in. But he didn't want to be married to Alfred, he wanted to be one with him in ways that really didn't even make sense to him. To… merge, so to speak?

Sadly, as far as he knew, something like that was impossible. And so lately he just spent excessive amounts of time dwelling on what Alfred was doing with his time, where he was, and above all who he was spending his time with. What was he doing right now? Who was he with? Matthew wasn't sure if he was sliding around the dating scene again, although it had been about a month since That Woman had gone missing. Was he over it by now? He damn well should be, she wasn't all that special or anything from what he had seen. Just some fleshy woman with a nice figure and a generic life. He rolled over to face the sky, enjoying the sun's warm kiss on his cheeks as he stretched out in the rustling pile. He was a freaking country, gosh darn it, and much more suited to his brother in every way due to that alone.

He pulled himself to a sitting position and began picking the colorful leaves from his hair, frowning in thought. Maybe it was time to man up and just tell him how he felt. Maybe, just maybe, doing something like that wasn't as hard as he had made it out to be in his mind all of these years. He cracked a shy little smile and stood up, patting the dirt from his jeans. He looked back at the ruined pile and sighed. Well, if he was going to do anything like that he would have to fix this mess first.

About an hour later he was looking through a jewelry shop, the hood of his sweater resting over his head and his hands in his pockets. He leaned down to peek into a case and eye the various trinkets there, chewing his lip as he tried to figure out which one Alfred would like the most. They were all cross pendants, beautifully crafted and painfully expensive but Matthew would spare no expense in getting something his brother would truly love. Finally he picked one out, it was medium sized and solid gold, with little diamonds in a swirling shape from the top to the bottom. It was lovely and so he called the shopkeeper over and requested it. She was an old and weathered woman with straight black hair packed up neatly into a tight bun. She told him how much it cost, eyeing his casual attire with poorly concealed distaste. He said he knew, there was a sign beneath it. She asked him if he wanted to set up a payment plan. He pulled the full amount from his wallet and slapped it down onto the display case. She held it up to the light to see if it was real, and let out a little huff when it was. It was packed into a small and square black box that was decorated with the store's symbol. Matthew stuffed it into his pocket and left the store, politely thanking the woman for her business.

As he walked from the shop and back to his car he pulled his phone from his pocket and placed a call to his favorite country. Three rings and it was answered, "What is it this time, Mattie? Wanna know what I'm eating for lunch?" He was clearly irritated by the constant checkups Canada had been placing.

Matthew chuckled as he fished his car keys from his pocket. "Yes."

"A turkey sandwich. What?"

"I don't have much else to do so I wanted to know if you felt like going out today." He pushed the key into the ignition and started the vehicle, immediately flipping the radio off. Like he wanted to mar Alfred's beautiful voice with whatever crap would come snaking from the speakers.

"Well… I suppose I'm not doing anything today. Sure." Matthew smiled broadly as he pulled away from the curb and began the fairly short drive to America's house. Canada said that he would be there in some fifty minutes. Alfred said he was going to get into the shower and he'd be ready by the time Matthew showed up. The Canadian let a little puff of air from his nostrils as he pictured America in the shower, all soapy and glistening. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Well, this was all going better than he had expected. He already knew what he had in mind for their little 'date'. Of course it would start with food since he was very sure that Alfred would be hungry. Then would come entertainment in the form of a movie. He touched the box in his pocket and tried to think up a good way to express his infatuation without alienating Alfred and chuckled at the irony in giving a religious trinket as a gift when he intended on confessing his incestuous, homosexual love.

He switched the radio back on and listened to the relaxed rock that came from the speakers as he tried to put together a good way to go about all of this. He pictured pulling the box out over dinner and sliding it across the table with a confident smile, and out-right telling Alfred how he felt. His brother would be ecstatic, taking the necklace and telling him that he, too, had harbored such feelings for many years. Yeah, right. There was a far higher chance that he would stare at him blankly, then laugh like it was a joke or something. Or worse, he would become angry and remove Matthew from his life all together. That was the absolutely last thing he wanted to happen and he didn't know what he would do if it came down to that. There was no way he would allow Alfred to refuse to see him. A little ways from the house he stopped at a gas station and filled up, leaning on the hood of his car with his arms crossed and brows furrowed in thought. Maybe he would wait until the movie?

After his tank was full and he had retrieved his credit card from the slot, he popped his trunk and pulled out a large white paper bag. He carried it into the bathroom and slipped into a stall to change into the clothes he had bought months ago for a special occasion. Black high-end jeans, white belt, fitted dark red button down shirt with the top button left undone to show the maple leaf amulet that he wore about his neck on a black string. He looked himself over in the mirror, pondering whether he looked over-dressed or not. Ran a comb through his hair a few times, making sure that there were no loose strands sticking up any which way. Swapped his red and white runners for something a little more appropriate. Look in the mirror again, spin in a circle. He decided that he looked fine and made his way back to his car, feeling his stomach roll with apprehension. He was going to do it. He was really going to do it! The car purred to a start and he pulled out onto the road and he swallowed thickly. The ride there was nearly unbearable. He considered just turning around and coming up with some excuse, yanking his car into oncoming traffic, just driving past America's house and as far as the tires would take him. Where would that be? Mexico?

And all too soon he was pulling into America's driveway, ready to start hyperventilating. He tapped the horn twice to let his brother know that he was there, resting his hand over his chest and breathing slowly. His heart was slamming so hard in his chest that it actually kind of hurt. He looked into his rearview mirror and let out a little puff of air from between his lips; his face was bright red. Matthew undid his seatbelt and climbed out into the cool evening air, stretching his arms up over his head as he tried to calm down. "I'm not just going to spring it on him," He muttered to himself, actually wishing for a moment that he smoked since he had heard how it worked to combat stress, "There's no reason to get so worked up right now."

"I shoulda' known you were some kinda crazy person." Alfred's voice shocked him, causing him to jump and let out a high shriek. Canada spun around, hand on his chest and breathing raggedly, demanding to know what Alfred had meant by the remark.

The American shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side with a grin, "I dunno, maybe because you're standin' out here talking to yourself?" He laughed loudly, turning to make his way to the passenger door. "What are you tripping on anyway, bro? Lost all your syrup? Run out of rainbow dyes for your money?"

Relieved to hear that Alfred hadn't overheard his words, Canada climbed back into the car and pulled his seatbelt back on with a chuckle. "K- Kumadaro says he wants to visit Tony and the whale." He lied in an attempt to change the subject, starting the car and pulling it into gear.

"Well he can't for a while. Tony took them both out on vacation, so they'll be gone for a couple of weeks." Alfred pulled the little handle on the side of his seat and leaned back, resting his feet on the dash. He eyed his younger brother and picked at his teeth. "You're dressed up today."

Canada felt his pulse quicken and his face start to burn as a warm happiness flooded out through his body. Alfred had actually noticed! "Not really." He muttered, glad that he was driving so he could keep his eyes on the road and not have to fret about looking into those lovely blue orbs that were aimed at him.

"Now I'm gonna look like a slob next to you." America said with a smile, referring to his baggy blue T-shirt and worn lightly-colored jeans.

"You always look nice." Matthew muttered shyly, squeezing the steering wheel. His palms were beginning to sweat.

Alfred laughed, running his fingers through his shining golden hair. It was so smooth and healthy and beautiful, Canada wanted to bury his face in it and relish the smell. "I guess. You're too polite for your own good, ya know that? Carmelita would have loved you."

"Who?"

"Oh, my skank ex. She always said I was kinda rude, so I was just thinking that she'd-"

"How do you feel about seafood?" Matthew interjected through clenched teeth. Was Alfred an idiot? Why would he bring That Woman up now, of all times? Was he trying to piss Canada off, because it was working. Alfred nodded vigorously, glad at the prospect of a full belly, apparently not having noticed his brother's darkening of mood.

Matthew remained silent until they were in the restaurant and seated, leafing through their menus. "What are you going to get?" He finally asked, after some five minutes of awkward silence.

"Probably the lobster. You?"

"Lime shrimp."

"Cool."

Canada wanted to slam his brother's head into the table for ruining the flow of the 'date' with his idiocy. He sighed quietly to himself and tried to let the earlier comment go so that he could just enjoy his meal without needing to dwell on something as unimportant as… Well, he decided to not even finish that thought and move on. He would tell him after they were done eating. That way, Alfred would be as happy as he was ever going to be and this whole awkwardness would be forgotten. It would go something like this:

Canada would reach his hand out and softly take America's into a gentle but firm hold to get his attention. The older man would look up from his meal, some noodle or whatever side-dish he chose handing out of his oh-so-luscious mouth. Matthew would pull the box out and open it, letting him see the present first.

"Alfred, I need to tell you something."

"What's up?" He would slurp up the food and swallow it, his gaze dancing back and forth from the pendent to his brother's violet eyes (they would be full of sincere emotion at this point).

"Ever since we were kids, I've admired you. No, more than that. I love you, Alfred, as more than a brother and more than a friend. I want to be (with) you." America would be so shocked at first that he would probably sputter out something incoherent and stupid. Then he would blush bright red and nod.

He would say something like, "I've felt that way about you, too, Mattie."

Why did it come out sounding so corny? Canada lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling under his breath. What did he think this was, some kind of a Lifetime special? There was no way in hell it would come out anything like that! The waiter approaching pulled him from his thoughts and back into the world where he realized (to his horror) that he had been zoning out for some five minutes, leaving his brother restless and somewhat bored.

The tall, dark-haired man stood before them with impeccable posture, looking down on them with his arms crossed behind his back. "Are you ready?" He asked, his voice more friendly than his demeanor led one to believe.

America ordered the house lobster special and a bottle of Coors, flashing a stunning smile as he gave his menu to the man. The waiter smiled back, and after writing the order down with a flourish of movement he took the menu and turned to walk away. Alfred called out and brought him back, asking if he intended on taking Matthew's order. The waiter apologized profusely, blaming the fact that he hadn't even noticed the quiet blond on a turbulent night's sleep. Matthew laughed weakly and told him that it was all right with a little dismissive wave of the hand. He ordered the lime-seared shrimp with a side salad. Water to drink, thank you very much.

Why didn't anyone notice him? He looked the same as his brother, he wasn't a small man, and he felt that he was even dressed nicely enough that day to stand out a little. It was always 'Alfred, Alfred, Alfred.' 'What's Alfred doing today?' 'Alfred, why are you invading them?' 'Hey, Alfred, are those new glasses?' No one cared about Canada, and it bothered him to no end. He was smarter, nicer, and just over-all better than his idiot brother and it was really beginning to bother him that no one ever paid him any mind. He wanted to be the one the other countries talked about, he wanted to be the one people invited out for a drink, and gosh darn it all he wanted an opportunity to order his meal when he was the dang one paying for it! He sighed heavily and touched the box in his pocket.

Maybe he should have done the old trick with the ring (or in this case, necklace) in the food. Nothing says "I love you" more than choking that person to death on a foolishly hidden piece of jewelry. Matthew's fingers tapped around the squared edges of the box, trying to think of the opportune moment to do what he had come there to do.

"So what are we gonna do after this?" Alfred asked as he tried to fold his napkin into some low-level origami bird.

"I was thinking of seeing a movie. Anything you're interested in?"

"Well, there's this one out that looks pretty funny. It's about some guys who accidentally go to the moon or something, and they spend a couple days there trying to escape."

"That sounds more like an action/adventure or something."

"Yeah, I know, but it's actually a comedy, I swear. A bromance." Canada nodded. His brother had been very fond of those types of movies lately. Between two and five men having ridiculous adventures over the span of a day or two. Nothing is learned, there is no message, and any romance subplots are glossed over in about five minutes. Canada was alright with seeing something like that, it could help him relax and unwind a bit.

"I wonder when it's playing next." He said, cracking an amused smile at the crooked little napkin-bird Alfred had created. "That looks awful."

"I'd like to see you do better, broski." America huffed, flicking the bird across the table. Their meals arrived and Alfred dug in like a starving person, chatting away through mouthfuls of food. Matthew smiled and laughed and replied quietly, being sure to properly swallow his food before he tried to speak. They talked of what they thought Tony and the whale were doing on their vacation, ideas for new movies, cool games that they were waiting for. Whilst trying to talk through a rather large bite of biscuit, Alfred choked a little and coughed, sending a clump of half-chewed food rolling out onto the table.

"That's why everyone tells to finish chewing before you talk." Matthew sighed, shaking his head and reaching out to pluck up the wet hunk of half-eaten food and pop it into his mouth.

"Well I'm not just gonna be silent while I eat!" America stated flatly, grimacing a little as Canada chewed. "You always do that, isn't it gross?"

"Do what?"

"Eat the food people drop."

"…What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You just did it, you ate the food that fell out of my mouth. Isn't that gross to do that to everyone all the time?" America swallowed what he was chewing and took a long swig from his beer.

"I don't do it with everyone. Just you." Matthew replied, picking up a piece of his shrimp with his fork and dipping it into the lemon sauce before taking a bite and chewing slowly. America opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then just went back to eating before he spoke again, having changed the subject. Matthew continued to nod and agree, or interject something when he felt it necessary as Alfred continued to speak. The American's rapid-fire manner of speaking was making it hard for him to come up with some way to get his feelings across. Even if Canada knew what to say or how to say it, there was just no break in the conversation for him to politely request to be heard. At the same time, he was beginning to doubt that telling him like this would be a very good idea. What if he were to become upset and cause some embarrassing scene? It would be humiliating, and he really didn't want to be in a situation like that in a public place like the one he was in.

And so they just talked and ate, Matthew paid the bill ($87.98), and they headed to the theater. After having bought the tickets ($17.50) and a massive popcorn and soda for America($8.98), Matthew headed into the theater alone. Alfred had gone to use the toilet. As the previews rolled on before him, he tried to think of a good way to 'pop the question', so to speak, in the middle of a movie where one was supposed to be quiet. Maybe he could just lean over and whisper it into his ear. It would probably play out something like:

Canada would wrap his arm around America's shoulders about half-way through the flick, pulling him close. Alfred would look at him with a confused expression, slowly chewing a kernel of popcorn.

"…What are you doing?"

"Alfred," Matthew would whisper into his ear, "I need to tell you something important, but I'm afraid you'll hate me."

"I couldn't hate you, little bro. What's up?"

Matthew would push the box into America's hands, that would have been sitting in his lap. He would let his fingers brush lightly over those soft hands, and then let them rest on a warm thigh. "I love you, Alfred. I want to be (with) you."

The older man would blush and advert his gaze, unsure of what to say. A few moments would pass before he would slowly turn and capture Matthew's lips in a kiss.

What the heck was this, some kind of romance novel? Matthew clapped his hands over his eyes and shook his head back and forth, his cheeks turning red. There was no way in hell it would work out that way! Maybe seeing a movie wasn't the best plan after all. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to tell him at all, and maybe, just maybe, it really was as hard as he had been making it out to be for all of these years. When Alfred finally arrived the previews were over and opening credits rolling. Matthew couldn't help but chuckle at the way he pushed his way down the aisles, loudly excusing himself when he would step on someone's foot or trip over them. Why couldn't he be that brash? Why was it so hard for him to just make himself known? Well, standing next to his brother there was no contest. Even if Matthew tried to be louder and more interesting, he was quickly forgotten the moment America showed up.

When Alfred plopped down into his seat next to him, Matthew gave him a little nudge with his elbow and smiled, pointing at the long line of disgruntled-looking people who were glaring their way. Alfred just rolled his eyes and dismissed them with a little wave of the hand, nestling into his seat and leaning back while balancing the popcorn bucket on his upper thighs. Canada kept looking at him although the movie was starting, studying the way the shadows played with the features on his face. He just stared and stared, trying his hardest to work up the courage to put his arm around Alfred's shoulders, or hold his hand, or rest his hand on his knee. Something, anything would work, just some touch that would be difficult to be construed as platonic to help ease their way into a conversation.

Matthew felt like he was sweating bullets when he lifted a trembling hand and extended it towards Alfred's, which was sitting on the armrest. Closer, closer, almost there Canada dang it just touch it come on come on come on… He squeaked and snatched his hand back to his lap when Alfred burst out laughing from some hilarious situation on the screen, that elusive hand slapping the armrest twice as if to say 'by golly this movie is so fucking funny it makes me want to just hit stuff!' The Canadian turned his attention to the film and watched a good fifteen minutes before he decided to give that cliché move, the old 'Yawn and Stretch', a try. Pulling his arms up into the air, he made a show of yawning, bending first to the left then the right, before slowly lowering his hands. The left fell back to it's place on his lap while the right slowly sunk down to rest on the back of America's seat.

Matthew was glad that he was in the middle of a dark theater, because from the feel of things his face was bright red. Alfred didn't seem to have noticed as he just sat there chuckling away at the screen and stuffing handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. America turned to him, offering the tub of popcorn and noticed the arm, lifting a quizzical eyebrow with his smile fading. Matthew just laughed lamely and pulled his hand back into his lap, "I wondered how long it was gonna take for you to notice."

"Don't be such a weirdo, Mattie." Alfred said, his smile returning as he set the snack into his brother's lap. "Eat some of this before I finish it all and make myself sick."

Canada chuckled weakly, taking a kernel and popping it into his mouth. What the heck was that expression? Was his arm so horrible that Alfred had to get all serious for a moment? Was he mad? Maybe he was just imagining it, but it had looked like quite a disapproving stare. Maybe this whole thing was a horrible mistake. On the screen the 'nerdy friend' character was saying something the didn't make much sense and the 'voice of reason' was face-palming, which elected a round of laughter from the audience. What was going on, anyway? They were on the moon at this point, but Canada wasn't really paying it any mind. He leaned back, resting his head on the back of his seat and looked up at the ceiling, feeling tears sting at his eyes. This was a horrible mistake. There was no way that Alfred felt the same way that he did, no way at all. It wasn't fair.

After the flick had ended, they walked out through the crisp night air to Canada's car, Alfred recapping his favorite parts of the movie with excited gusto. Matthew walked slowly with his hands in his pockets, considering just cutting the night short and taking his brother home. Things would stay the way they always were, and that would be the end of it. But he didn't want things to stay the way they were, and he damn sure didn't want it to be over and done with. If he were to just drop America off he would always be the ever-forgotten Canada, he would never be noticed by anyone, and the gnawing emotions he held for his older brother would fester even deeper than they already had until they consumed him. There was no way that he would let that happen! Either his brother would accept him and they would run off into the sunset and live happily ever after (what an embarrassing thought) or he would be denied and forced to resort to drastic methods to get what he wanted. No, not wanted. Needed.

"You wanna go to the bar?" He asked, climbing into the driver's seat and pulling on his seatbelt.

"The night is young, so why the hell not?"

The best way to lubricate a confession of that caliber had to be booze, and so they drove to a comfortable bar downtown. They sat at a table got started. Let's play I Never, Alfred had said. Canada agreed and they began.

"I never threw up on anyone." Canada had to drink.

"I never fought with Arthur." America took a long swig.

"I never had a one-night stand."

"I never tried to commit genocide."

"That's a low blow. At least I apologized and gave them a few rooms in my house. I never get mistaken for anyone."

"I've never been in a car accident."

On and on it went, until they were both quite thoroughly sloshed. They attempted a game of darts that ended up being discontinued when Alfred threw one horribly aimed projectile and broke a hole in the jukebox. They played ping-pong, Matthew won by quite a few points. The Canadian had to pull Alfred away from a small group of women he was putting the moves on, and then they played beer pong. Finally, while Alfred was sitting slouched at the table and nursing a beer, Matthew steeled his resolve and pulled the box from his pocket.

"Alfred."

America looked up from his glass bottle and smiled, "Yeah?"

"There's something I need to tell you." He set the box onto the table and inhaled a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

"What, you gonna ask me to marry you?" Alfred joked, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his pack of cigarettes. He motioned for Canada to follow him outside.

Matthew trailed behind, gripping the box in shaking hands, his heart beating wildly. He forced a laugh, "Maybe?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Alfred said, letting a little disapproving puff of air from his nostrils as he put a cigarette to his lips and flicked his lighter one, two, three, four times before it flared. He lit the thin white tube and pushed the lighter back into his pocket, taking a long drag. "That kind of thing may be cool at your house, but I'm a little confused about it so it's gonna stay a huge 'no'." He chuckled, blowing the smoke out through his nose.

"But seriously, what did you need?"

Canada stood there, fishing for words. Rejected before he even had a chance to say anything, isn't that hilarious? Hardy fucking har, so funny it hurt. He felt all of his hopes and dreams crash down around him and yeah, it did hurt. Not in a funny way, no, it hurt in one of those soul-crushing ways. His entire body was suddenly washed in sorrow, like the world had ended, like when you're driving and run over a puppy you just didn't see was there. His eyes stung and he brought his hand to his mouth, afraid that he would cry out. Something was building in his throat, building, building, struggling to get out. And then it did; He began to laugh. It was a frantic and crooked sound, bubbling out of him uncontrollably as he pressed his palm over his lips and tried to suppress it.

Alfred would never accept him. He would be disgusted by him, deny him, and remove him from his life forever. All of the love and energy Canada had put into him was for not, all of that time just wasted! He could declare his love to some bitch human, but not to his own brother? He laughed and laughed until tears began streaking his cheeks, a deep and dark feeling spreading over his body like wildfire. This was a mistake, this was a mistake, this was a horrible freaking mistake and how could he be so stupid? There was no way that the world's greatest country could even think to waste it's time on the oh so uninteresting Canada! After everything he had done for him, after being there for him when he was down, removing that little bitch whore mistake from his life, loving him unconditionally!

Alfred stepped back a little, shocked at his brother's outburst. "Are… Are you alright?" He asked, a cloud of grey smoke accentuating his words.

Canada took a deep breath, replying between errant giggles, "I'm fine. Would you really think I would want to be with you like that?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I got this for you earlier, it was pretty cheap." What a lie. He handed the little box to Alfred. Matthew loved the way his eyes lit up when he saw the trinket and pulled it from the case, holding it out to admire the detail.

"This is really nice, man. There's no way it could have been cheap."

"I got it on sale." Another lie.

"Well thanks, dude." Alfred took it from the box and affixed it around his neck. "What do you think?"

Beautiful, amazing, perfect. "It looks pretty good, for you anyway."

America decided that he needed to go home, he had work the next day and going home at one in the morning was a mistake already. Matthew dropped him off and drove home in silent thought, milling over his premature rejection without the sounds of the radio to distract him. So apparently Alfred was one-hundred percent straight, from what he had said there were no two ways about it. There was absolutely no way that America would ever love him and… And, well, that just didn't really matter, now did it? Matthew's hands tightened on the wheel as a smile slowly crept over his lips. It really didn't matter, by maple there was no way that mattered at all. He really didn't want to be with America anyway. He knew now, he knew deep inside of himself what that clawing, gnawing thought had been lurching about in his mind all of these years.

He wanted to BE America. He wanted to be seen, to be recognized, and most of all to be able to brush off someone's feelings like they were just any old garbage. What had Alfred done to deserve his life, anyway? What had HE done that Canada HADN'T done? Nothing, absolutely freaking nothing. And maybe, just maybe, that was the point after all.

This was going to take some effort. The first stop was the barber; Matthew held up a picture to let them know exactly what he wanted. He was sad to see his hair go, but it was for a good cause, right? Snip snip, gradient blonde to some shade of orange fell to the floor around the chair as he watched in the mirror. When it was done he turned his head left and right, tilted it up and down, ran his fingers through it. It was… perfect. His cheeks turned a dark shade of pink at the resemblance and he thanked the old man who had done the job, tipping him five dollars. It had been an entire week since the botched 'date', which had given him a good amount of time to practice his Alfred constantly. Mannerisms, tone of voice, writing, everything. He had even called England to see if he could tell the difference. If he did he hadn't mentioned anything.

Having left the pantry unlocked and a pile of money on the kitchen table for Kumajirou to buy food with, he bid his old home goodbye and left with no intention of returning. When he got to his new home he pulled the duplicate key he had made a few years ago (who needed consent, anyway?) from his pocket and let himself in. Well, this was home now, apparently. He felt a little weird but would sure that the sensation would pass with time. His first stop was the fridge; made a ham sandwich with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Plopped down on the couch and ate it, watching some TV movie that was already halfway through. He had been too busy lately to monitor his brother's movements so he wasn't sure where he was. Out doing something stupid, no doubt. Regardless of what he was doing, he would be taken care of in time. Matthew burped quietly into his hand, whispering a little "excuse me" after having finished his sandwich. Well, what to do? He flipped the TV off and hopped up to standing, looking about the room. Well, apparently Alfred had gone somewhere important, as his iPod was still resting in it's dock. May as well listen to some music.

He poked it on and saw that it was in the middle of a song by the late 'King of Pop'. He tilted his head in thought. That was something he had never considered attempting to copy; His brother was world-renowned for his dancing, and Canada may as well have two left feet. What a horrible thing to overlook.

"Huh, I may as well try." He said to himself, nibbling the tip of his index finger as he bent at the waist to get a better look at the MP3 player's screen. He pushed his ahego out of the way as he cycled through his brother's play list. There was no way he would even consider taking a scissor near the long curl, the very notion terrified him. He had a mock Nantucket styled in so he had decided that as long as he clipped his curl down no one would be the wiser. He chose a song and hit play.

Some ten minutes later, he gave up and poked the 'stop' button. Three spins landed him squarely on his ass, his lack of coordination turned a slide into a one-way ticket straight into a wall, and an attempted moonwalk had come dangerously close to sending him plummeting to his death down the basement stairs. Who needed to know how to dance, anyhow? Grumbling about his rather pathetic attempts, he wandered aimlessly down a hallway until he found himself standing in Alfred's armory.

Guns of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, while others sat in glass cases and weapons closets. Matthew hefted a rather heavy flame thrower into his arms and pointed it out, then did a quiet laugh (meant to sound like America's. He would have to work on that.) before pressing the fire button. He squeaked in shock when a massive tongue of flames shot out from the weapon, blinding him with it's light and instantly heating the room to unbearable temperatures. He pulled his finger from the button and dropped the heavy weapon, panting in fear and surprise. Why was it loaded? After he set the M2A1-7 back where it belonged he went about inspecting the rest of the guns to find that they were all loaded and in pristine condition. Matthew thought the notion of having a room full of live firearms was foolish (especially the bazooka in the corner), but he just shrugged and picked up a black SIG P250 and inspected it. After having decided that he liked it, he turned the safety on and pushed it into the waist of his pants before leaving the room, closing the door behind himself.

Jogging up the stairs to Alfred's room, he wondered off-handedly when his brother would be home, then quickly dismissed the thought. He would be home when he was home, there was no sense in stressing himself out about it. He let himself into America's room and dove face-first into his bed, wrapping one of his pillows in a hug and rolling about. He inhaled deeply, relishing in Alfred's scent. How could one person possibly smell so phenomenal? He cracked a crooked smile as he stopped rolling to just lay there for a moment, his eyes closed and pillow laying over his face. "This is nice." He mumbled through the fabric, laying on his back and letting his legs hang over the edge of the bed lazily.

With some effort he forced himself to remove the pillow and sit up with a sigh. He would have loved to just lay there forever, but he still had things to do. He hopped up and went over to the closet and leafed through the outfits in there, before he pulled out a plain red T-shirt, a pair of worn jeans, and (of course) the aviator jacket his brother apparently wasn't wearing that day. He stripped out of his own clothes and set them neatly folded on the top of the dresser before he slipped into Alfred's clothes. He shirt and jeans smelled like dryer sheets, and the jacket… Oh god yes, it smelled just like him. Canada walked to the full length mirror that hung next to the bed and grinned. He looked Just. Like. Him. The similarity was so drastic that he was absolutely sure that if he didn't know better even he would be fooled, and it made him glow with pride. So this was what it felt like to be Alfred. The feel of his hair as it tickled across his face when he moved, the warmth of the jacket.

He put his hands on his hips and struck a 'heroic' pose, then flexed at himself. A little giggle bubbled unexpectedly from his lips as he slowly turned in a circle, approving of the way he looked. He sat back on the bed and winked at his reflection, running his fingers through his hair. Matthew's cheeks started to burn pink when he felt blood rush to his groin. "It's a natural reaction." He muttered to himself, letting his hand slowly lift his shirt enough to see his flat stomach. He would need to eat more. He leaned back a little and lifted the shirt higher, eyeing the black handle of the gun with interest. It had been a while since he had used one. He ran one hand down from his stomach over his clothed erection, shuddering a little at the feel, then let it travel down his thigh. A click from behind him made him turn his head and smile.

"Welcome home." He said, laying back on the bed and pulling the gun from his pants to point it upside-down at his brother.

Alfred just blinked, trying to process what he had walked in on. "Mattie, what the fuck are you doing?" His voice was flat and calm.

Matthew rolled over onto his stomach and smiled wider, resting his chin on one hand while keeping the gun pointed with the other. "You're home."

"Uh, yeah. You got a hair cut."

"You like it?"

"I can't really say I don't, considering the style. You're wearing my clothes."

"They're really nice." He clicked the safety off.

"Is that my gun?"

"Mine, now."

"I see."

"Come in, and shut the door behind you." Canada pulled back the gun's hammer to accentuate his point.

Swallowing thickly, Alfred did as he was told, the severity of the situation finally sinking in past the initial shock. Matthew stood and went to him to wrap him in a firm and needy hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of his brother's neck as he let the gun hang limply from his hand. "I love you."

"W-wait, what?" America asked, pulling away until he felt the barrel of the gun push against his temple.

"I've always loved you so much." Canada said as he quickly closed the space between them to press his lips against Alfred's soft mouth for the second time in his life. It was so soft and warm and a little bit shaky but that didn't really matter. He pushed his tongue past those quivering lips and dipped it into Alfred's delicious mouth, moaning in pleasure at the taste. Chocolate milkshake, mint chewing gum, and tobacco. What a delicious mixture. They were so close that he could feel America's erratic heartbeat against his chest and it made him so happy that his brother could be so excited by him. Matthew found it odd but his own heart was working calmly, as if he were taking a relaxing walk through the park or something, rather than actually kissing the object of his affection. Well, isn't life just full of surprises?

Alfred wasn't kissing him back, but that was alright. He wasn't holding him either, but that didn't matter. He was playing hard-to-get, and Matthew found it cute. Finally he broke the kiss and took a couple steps back, never taking the gun from his brother. He reached back and grabbed the shirt from the stack of clothes on top of the dresser and threw it at the older sibling. "Get changed."

America unfolded the top with shaking hands and recognized it immediately. "Mattie, what the hell are you-"

"No!" Canada snapped, swinging the gun down to aim at Alfred's knee. "You're Matthew now, and I'm Alfred! Now put it on or I'll shoot you in the kneecap."

"Alright, alright!" Alfred yelped, pulling his white shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor. He pulled the T-shirt on and spread his hands in a show of good will. "There, happy now?"

Canada's face blushed red and he dropped his head to stare down at the floor for a moment, "Take off your pants."

"You can't be-"

He looked back up again and let the gun fall to his side. "Please?"

Alfred sighed heavily and adverted his eyes as he slowly undid his belt and button, then unzipped the jeans and pulled them down before kicking them off to the side. He started to blush and fidget awkwardly. "This is weird."

"Boxers, too, then go lay down." Matthew motioned towards the bed with his gun. After Alfred had removed his underwear and shuffled over to the bed (pulling the bottom of the shirt down to try and hide his lower regions) he sat up against the headboard, looking everywhere but Matthew.

The Canadian moved to the foot of the bed and let out a little puff of air. "You're so cute." He climbed onto the bed and crawled on all fours toward his older brother, enjoying the sight. By the time he had situated himself between America's legs, he was starting to feel like he would need to at least unbutton his pants, because it was starting to hurt his crotch.

"Why are you doing this, man?" Alfred muttered, turning his eyes to look at the far wall when he noticed Matthew undoing his jeans.

The younger man looked up from his fly to glare at his brother. "Why? Are you seriously an idiot? I would be a thousand times better at being 'America' than you! You're loud, annoying, you talk too much, you're rude, and all you do is eat and eat and eat!"

Alfred jumped a little at the outburst, and let out a strained sounding little chuckle of stressed fear.

Rage flashing in his eyes, Canada jammed the barrel of the gun just beneath America's Adam's apple. "You're just going to laugh at me?" He demanded, pushing down as hard as he could until Alfred's breathes came out in little wheezing gasps.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm just… Just nervous!" Alfred managed to choke out, tears spilling from his eyes that were wide with terror as he struggled to breath.

Canada stared at him for a moment before pulling the gun away and sighing. "I'm really sorry, I over reacted." He said with a small smile, lowering his head to kiss the already bruised flesh softly. He let soft kisses trail up the smooth flesh before his slid his tongue from his mouth to slowly lap up the salty tears. Everything about Alfred was just so delicious, Matthew would have been content just eating him. Leaving his right hand on the bed, still holding the gun, he lifted his left to run his fingers through that smooth, beautiful hair. He pressed a soft kiss against Alfred's lips, then moved down, kissing and licking across his neck then pushed the shirt up a ways to trail wet kisses down the shivering chest.

"Hold it in your mouth." He instructed, pushing the bottom of the shirt against America's lips.

"What for?" He mumbled past the fabric, his voice still a little shaky from the earlier outburst.

"I think it would look good."

"I guess." Alfred opened his mouth and bit down softly on the fabric, his blush growing as Matthew looked him over with a satisfied smile before taking one of the uncovered nipples into his mouth and sucking it lightly. America jumped a little at the feeling, suppressing a soft moan.

Matthew gave the little bud another lick before continuing past Alfred's soft stomach to his penis. Well, apparently they looked the same there, too. He ran his tongue over it before pulling the length into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow circles as he enjoyed the musky scent and distinct flavor. As he bobbed his head up and down, he became more and more irritated at it's unwillingness to become erect. Finally, he let it go and looked up at America with a scowl, "What, I'm no good at it? You don't like me?" He growled, poking the tip with the gun.

"I-I'm sorry, dude! It's just a little hard to get it up when my own brother's sucking my dick and threatening to shoot me!" Alfred yelped, dropping the shirt from his lips as he spoke. His eyes stayed trained on the loaded weapon aiming directly at his manhood in fear, trying to close his legs.

"I guess you have a point." Matthew muttered, tapping the gun against his jaw as he thought for a moment. "You never did it with a guy?"

"Oh course not!"

"Lay all the way back, and by maple relax a little."

"That's easy for you to say." America muttered as he scooted himself down onto his back.

Matthew pushed his brother's legs apart further and nibbled lightly on one of the pale thighs, cupping his balls in one hand and massaging. He nipped and licked his way down to the little crook between the leg and pubic region, sucking it softly. America bucked his hips with a gasp of air, wriggling about. Canada's middle and ring finger moved down slightly enough to stroke the smooth skin of his perineum, alternating between firm and light touches as he moved him mouth further down. Alfred yelped loudly when Matthew's wet tongue flicked over his hole, "Don't, that's gross!"

"I wouldn't be doing this if it was." Matthew murmured between licks, "Nothing about you is gross, anyway." He smiled a little to himself when he noticed America's cock twitch a slightly, slowly growing hard. Apparently he liked the sensation more than he cared to admit. He ran the tip of his tongue around the circumference twice before licking up over the perineum, across his balls, and up to the head before swallowing the now-erect member into his mouth. That was better. He stopped sucking for a moment to moisten his middle finger so that he could continue to tease Alfred's hole while his mouth was otherwise occupied.

America moaned quietly as his hips pushed him up into Matthew's hot mouth, momentarily forgetting any sense of danger or moral qualms as his body was teased and caressed. He let out a little whine of protest when the ministrations abruptly stopped and Matthew stood. "What are you doing?" He asked between little panting breathes.

Canada dug in the second to top drawer for a moment before he found the little bottle of lube he knew Alfred kept there, and took a moment to pull his pants down before climbing back onto the bed and straddling his brother's lap. "How'd you know that was there?" America asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I know a lot of things." Matthew replied as he opened the bottle and poured a good amount over his fingers. He leaned forward and kissed Alfred, dipping his tongue into that mouth that he just loved oh so much as his hand reached around behind him and he pushed his index finger inside of himself, shuddering a little at the cold sensation. A wave of happiness flowed through him as Alfred actually kissed him back while he continued to finger himself, eventually adding another. All he wanted to do was just get to it already, but it would be better for both of them if he remained calm, composed, and didn't try to rush himself. He moaned into Alfred's mouth as he slipped a third finger inside, keeping his eyes slightly open to watch and be sure that his big brother wouldn't try to make a grab for the gun he was still holding.

Impatiently deciding that he had prepped enough, he removed his fingers from himself and poured a little puddle of lube into his palm to slick America's member, before he took a moment to aim and lowered himself down onto the hot length. Oh god he was doing it he was doing it he was finally freaking doing it! After so many years of wishing, and wanting, and pretending, here he was! A strong tremble ran up his spine at the knowledge as he sat down completely, giving himself a moment to relish in the feeling. They were finally going to be one and by everything IT WOULD BE GLORIOUS! With a little sigh he lifted himself almost entirely off before dropping back down, his eyes glazing over in pleasure at the flushed and conflicted expression his brother wore. He lifted himself again and slid back down, quickly finding a rhythm, breathy moans escaping his lips as America's hands slid up to hold him as he rocked his hips, thrusting into him at an increasingly faster rate.

"This is weird." Alfred gasped, thrusting harder up into the body atop him. Matthew leaned back to allow his brother's dick easier access to his prostate, sucking in a hissing breath and letting his eyes fall shut for a moment when it slid against it for the first time, making his arms want to go out from the pleasure. The thick coat was making him hot but he didn't want to take it off, so he pulled it off for a moment to remove the shirt, then pulled it on and let it rest around his shoulders. Not perfect, but much better. One hand holding him up as well as keeping tabs on the gun, he brought the other around to stroke himself as he bounced up and down on Alfred's cock. He moaned loudly when the older man's grip tightened on his hips and he trust up into him as hard as he could a few times, before switching to a faster tempo. And then his eyes flew open when America spoke.

"Mattie, I… I'm gonna cum." Alfred moaned, pushing as deeply into the tight hole as he could.

"Wait, what? No! No, not yet, damn it!" He yelped just as he felt the hot release flow into his body. He sat there for a moment, breathing hard, staring at his brother in disbelief. What the hell was that? His first time with the brother he loved so much and didn't even get a chance to cum?

"I'm sorry." Alfred panted lamely, "I tried to hold it."

Groaning loudly, Matthew ran his hand over his face and grumbled to himself before sitting up straight. "Well, I guess you always did cum kind of quickly."

"Hey, fuck you! How would you kn-" The words died in his throat when the barrel of the gun was pushed against his left eyelid, Canada smiling down at him. Silence stretched on for what seemed like forever as they stared at each other, Canada ever-grinning and Alfred's eyes wide in fear and disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak just as Matthew squeezed the trigger, and the gun went of with a resounding explosion of sound. Blood and brains and shattered bone burst out over the sheets and Matthew jumped a little at the noise. He wasn't very fond of loud things, so it had startled him.

After tossing the gun aside, he placed his hands on Alfred's unmoving chest and bounced up and down a few more times, enjoying the feel of his brother's dick before he lost too much blood and it went soft. Finally he lifted himself up, looking down to watch it slide out. Some semen dripped out after it, trickling down his thighs. Turning back to Alfred, he leaned in to run his tongue in a circle around the scorched eye socket. It tasted like a burnt roast mixed with gun powder. Not terrible, but not really good, either. He sat up again, resting his bum on Alfred's stomach as he swiveled his finger around the broken hole before pushing the index and middle inside, feeling the still warm ruins of the brain. It kind of felt like jell-o. After pushing them around a bit he pulled them out and brought them close to his face, eyeing the sticky red blood and little chinks of grey matter. He put them into his mouth and sucked them clean. Maybe he would become more 'America-like' from ingesting some of his mind. Unlikely, but worth a shot.

He tweaked Alfred's ahego and sighed heavily. "How could I have forgotten about that?" He grumbled to himself. Now he would never know if it was an erogenous zone. He just shrugged and moved off of the body, spreading the legs and taking some of the lube onto his fingers before pushing two inside the still-warm hole. He worked slowly and diligently in stretching America properly, determined to make his first time have as little pain as possible. Once he was confident that he had done a thorough job he slicked himself with the fluid and slowly slipped inside. Even in death Alfred was just so tight, it felt amazing. He lay over him, his face pressed against where shoulder met neck, his left hand holding Alfred's with their fingers laced together as he thrust slowly into the unresponsive body, in no hurry to reach completion but still dangerously close from before.

"I love you so much, Alfred." He moaned, kissing the cooling lips as he came with a shudder, spilling his seed into the lukewarm hole. He pulled out and stood to make his way to another dresser on the other end of the room to fish out a pack of his brother's cigarettes before returning to cuddle up next to the American. He lit one of the little white tubes and inhaled, coughing violently at the burn of the smoke in his lungs. Well, this was going to take some getting used to. As he struggled to smoke through fits of coughing, he wondered if anyone would notice the difference at the upcoming World Meeting. Would anyone tell the difference? Would anyone notice that 'Canada' had gone missing? On that note, would Tony and the whale think anything was strange when they came back from vacation? Oh well, no use in dwelling on things that you can't do anything about.

He put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the end table and flicked the lamp off before cuddling up next to Alfred and pulling the covers over them both. He wondered how one goes about preserving bodies, since it would be a shame to only have his brother around for a couple of days before he started going south. As he felt sleep begin to overtake him, the thought 'I'm going to regret this in the morning' slid through his mind. Tightening his grip around Alfred's body, he chucked.

Fat chance.
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Suicide by Proxy