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Candyland	By : CyreliaJ Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1845 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1-Candyland
- 1
Note: So this is the continuation of “Domino”. I decided just to go ahead with it and see where I end up. I want to say that first and foremost this isn’t going to be everyone’s cup of tea and it’s not going to be a particularly “happy” story. The ultimate end of the arc itself no matter how long it goes is also not going to be a nice one- whether Matthew and Arthur are together, apart or what have you I think the majority of people are going to find it to be unfortunate. That being said if one does like this sort of dark emotionally twisted story and does enjoy or is even titillated by thing others find abhorrent well hey more power to ya :) Now for the warnings.
WARNING: This story and arc contains a lot of emotional manipulation (I personally wouldn’t say abuse but I can see where some might say so in later parts/stories), sex/power games with a minor, incest play, references to alcoholism, drug use, psychological trauma/games, poor decision making and other unhappy things. This is not a nice story and if ANY of those things make you uncomfortable I’d advise you not to read. That being said I didn’t write this with the intent to bastardize any character I wanted it to be balance/understandable even if it isn’t nice. So any C&C is welcome good or bad since I can always take something from it and grow as a writer. Thanks everyone for reading!
Matthew checks the time on his phone as he stands against the side of the Frisch’s. He frowns as he reads 6:20, the sun starting to drop down to Earth. It’s been twenty minutes, Matthew. You’ve been standing here for the last half hour. He’s not coming, stupid. He hasn’t answered your texts… well… if he even has texting but who doesn’t have texting in 2014? He’s not coming. He didn’t exactly sound happy when you suggested it the other day and he probably thought you were gonna go like emo teenager on the phone or something. And anyway you still don’t even know this guy. You talk to him every night and he could probably name all your teachers and friends online and even that time Aunt Mary made that disgusting mac n cheese that oozed out butter if you so much as looked at it but what do you know about him?
   He isn’t even a speck on the internet outside the college website. Didn’t Al tell you that all the digging didn’t turn up anything but a few old phone numbers and not even a Facebook? I’m starting to wonder if Arthur Kirkland is even your real name or if you were walking down the aisle at Aldi or something and did a “George Glass” and made “Arthur Kirkland” and I’m gonna end up like those girls in the guy’s basement from that “Dead Giveaway” song and that would almost be better than never hearing the end of it from Al, so you might as well stay the hell put anyway Matthew and ...wait is that...? Matthew squints as his eyes catch sight of the old Lincoln parked back between the Frisch’s and the Chick Fil-A in the overflow spots. No way. Are you serious? Has he been here the entire time?! He looks down with a starts dialing Arthur’s number.
“Okay, Arthur, you might not have texting but I’m sure that old brick of yours still rings.”
Matthew takes a few steps and sees a figure that appears to be Arthur jump and scramble off to the side- presumably going for a phone. He sees something in Arthur’s hand flip open a few seconds later.
“You look like a total creeper sitting back there,” he says before Arthur can even say “hello”.
“This is a terrible idea, Matthew.” The voice on the other end is strained and hushed as if someone might hear even with the windows rolled up. Matthew rolls his eyes walking to the edge of the sidewalk.
“If it’s such a terrible idea then why are you even here, Arthur? If all this is such a terrible idea maybe you never should have picked me up that night.” He looks down as the blacktop, his toe tapping a tease to the surface like the asphalt is water lapping at the shores of a deserted island. There’s no response except for a deep shuddering breath. When he looks up again he can see that Arthur still hasn’t moved.
“Am I gonna have to come get you?” Matthew makes no move to slip off the curb where the sidewalk ends. There’s no answer still. He pushes. “People might think that’s a little strange… me leaning in your car like you’re gonna pay me to… you know.” He keeps watching Arthur through the windshield. You said you weren’t here to play boyfriend to some kid, I get that. You made that real clear, Arthur, that’s not what this is. The phone starts getting sweat damp in his hand as tightly as he’s holding it. “Isn’t that why you’re here, Daddy? So we can play father and son and I can get in the car and suck your-”
“Christ, shut up already do you want someone to hear you out there?” Matthew swallows hard. If you’re that embarrassed to even be seen with me because of my age... He bites his lip.
“Well then maybe... maybeyoushouldgetoutofthecarandshutmeup.” The words are a rush, a hurried mumbled challenge. Matthew feels his hand start to shake the longer the conversation goes on as he looks for a sign that Arthur’s turning the ignition or about to leave.
   There’s a long pause. Did the call drop? That thing has to be like ten years old. Matthew shifts from one leg from the other starting to lower the phone when he hears Arthur’s voice.
“What are the rules, Matthew?” Rules, right. He’s gonna remind you a million time this just a game like you’re stupid or something. God but why does he have to have that voice? He’s hot. He so hot why does he even want to fuck you when he could probably have anyone he wanted?
“First and foremost, you’re not Arthur.” He repeats those words Arthur had spoken to him on the phone almost verbatim. “Second, I only call you ‘Daddy’ when we’re alone, otherwise it’s ‘Father’. Third I do whatever you tell me in public, no questions asked and if I break that character no matter what you do or say to me, we’re through, that’s it, and we both go home. Thataboutcoverit?”
   He watches the stiff nod and looks down at the sidewalk.
“What... what about me... don’t I get any rules... Father?” Arthur’s only response is to lock eyes with him as he shuts the flip phone and pulls out a pack of Marlboro Reds as the heavy door swings open. Matthew holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, phone camera in hand as he snaps a photo of “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” He almost took a photo with the Big Boy earlier- something obscene and irreverent thinking of his brother’s laughter looking at the shot. He’d brought the dream to life so vividly in his mind the reality wasn’t necessary. Matthew tries again to stretch his toes in the tight leather shoes, the discomfort coming back to his attention all of a sudden as he waits for Arthur to move from his casual lean against the side of the car staring at the trees. He isn’t sure he likes them- his feet certainly don’t. The backpack feels weighty on the one shoulder and he reaches up in a nervous gesture to tuck his hair behind his ear when he remembers it’s already tied back with one of his mom’s black elastics.
   Matthew is sure he’s sweating now. His palms are still damp on the phone as the reality of the situation starts to take shape. He wipes them off on his pants again. And of course Al had to give me crap about this right when I was trying to leave. God I could’ve killed him if all his stupid jokes didn’t keep Mom from asking too many questions. Yeah, Al, he’s a therapist right? Imagine that, I went out looking to get laid and found some do gooder youth counselor instead right? That’s why he calls all the time, right? Why like we talk about school and homework and my friends and you and Mom see so you know that it’s… that there’s no other reason for all this, right? That’s why I’m meeting him today, right? You believe me, right, Al? You know I wouldn’t lie, right? I don’t lie to you Al... Mom maybe but never you. Arthur starts towards him hanging up the phone without another word giving Matthew the chance to get one last leer at “dear old dad” in khakis and a dark blue polo shirt hair blowing messily in strong April air.
   The closer Arthur comes, the more Matthew can feel that nauseating thump in his stomach. He swallows as he sees Arthur’s shadow reaching out to glide over his shoes. He realizes he has a near death grip on the phone as he looks up and snaps an upward “I’m Breathless” shot. Arthur’s eyes look from Matthew to the camera as he takes one last long drag of the cigarette and puts it in the butt receptacle.
“That goes away now,” are the first words out of his mouth. Yeah… Hello to you too. Matthew hesitates when he looks at the phone. C’mon, Matthew, rule number three and you’re already about to screw this up. Like you really couldn’t have seen that one coming? No wonder he doesn’t want to date you.
   He puts the phone to vibrate and shoves it in the front pocket of the backpack quickly staring at Arthur’s shoes. He can feel his hands already wanting to grow fidgety. Alright, Matthew, just look up already, this is what you’ve been waiting for you idiot. He turns his head to the side first before slowly coming around like a windblown weathervane. Yeah I sure feel like a big stupid chicken right now too. Arthur doesn’t smile at him. He only gives a brief nod. Matthew’s eyes are drawn to his lips. I really want to kiss you again, Arthur. I liked kissing you so much that night. I like how you taste. You could kiss me now couldn’t you? Just a quick peck on the cheek or on the lips; that’s normal isn’t it? C’mon, Mom doesn’t make a big deal about it just… Yeah sure, Matthew, you know you’d never be able to stop there.
   He forces himself to stop staring at Arthur’s mouth. They wouldn’t see a little lick- you wouldn’t hold that against me you wouldn’t really call it off over just a little taste. I wanna taste your cigarette. I wanna get down on my knees right here and-
“I’m glad to see you again Ar-” He clears his throat. “F-father.”
“Yes, Father,” Arthur murmurs as his eyes roam up and down Matthew’s body. His green eyes seem to be taking everything in and there comes that small smile of approval. Matthew thinks that he nods but isn’t sure. His hand tugs the bottom of the button down shirt the absence of the camera keenly felt. ”For Your Eyes Only”- that’s what I’d call this one. I’d capture my face from an upward angle and maybe set the shot just so I can get a little bit of your chin or your mouth or-
“Matthew?” Arthur calls for his attention.
“Yes, Father.” The answer comes immediately. He starts again when Arthur looks down, his hands lightly adjusting the collar of Matthew’s shirt.
“This is better.” Arthur presses the creases of the collar.
“Thank you, father.” Arthur’s knuckles brush bare skin. Matthew had left the shirt partly unbuttoned.
“Yes, now that’s a good lad.” The red tie is more a subversion than conformity with the lazy loose loop that Arthur also strokes lightly. Thank you father, I want you, father, fuck me, father. Matthew looks down watching those large hands gently smoothing the fabric hearing giggling in the distance that makes him turn his head. He sees two kids pointing and laughing to each other at Arthur’s fussing. The heat in his face rises mercury in a thermometer until Arthur steps back. Matthew freezes and stares at the eyes that are still roaming over his pale skin.
“Come...” God yes anything. “Come along then.” Arthur walks past him almost too quickly and Matthew whirls to follow him wind whipping cold water to his thoughts. He diverts his eyes in every direction from the salad bar to the pictures on the walls to as not to stare at Arthur walking in front of him. He almost walks into one of the seats as they turn a corner and fixates instead on the hostess as he catches his balance. Why are we going back here? Way back here where there’s no one else sitting and I have to look at just you and sit on my hands or put them over my mouth so I don’t say something off. This has to be hell. I swear it has to be Hell, God, smile Matthew so she doesn’t think you’re crazy with that look on your face! Matthew smiles brilliantly at the blonde girl noticing that she’s actually quite attractive with a pixie cut and a little barrette. He doesn’t see Arthur’s sidelong look to them both when he takes the seat back against the wall. That look is still there when he sits down. The smile tumbles from his face flipping to near panic.
“I don’t- I wasn’t... at her... You know I don’t like…” He stammers as he takes his seat face crimson facing the wiped down wooden table top.
“You’re young still, Matthew,” Arthur answers completely dismissively. “I’m sure you don’t know what you want.” Matthew shifts in the seat closing his mouth clamping a hand around his wrist to keep from reaching for the phone. He stares hard at the menu. Okay, yeah, ouch.
“Maybe if you were around more, Father,” he answers annoyed, “You’d know that I don’t make decisions like that lightly. I don’t… I don’t decide who I want to be with just on a whim.” So there. Jerk. Thirty minutes of sexual frustration are a go I guess. He nearly starts as Arthur drums his fingers on the table head turning to the song that’s playing in the background. Arthur laughs as Matthew catches Sting singing “that girl is half his age” in tandem with a laugh that’s halfway between genuine amusement and something far more bitter.
Arthur takes a menu biting back at him acidly.
“I think your track record on that speaks for itself.” Matthew’s eyes go wide as Arthur looks down at the specials. You… you did not just say that… You asshole, you- He opens his mouth, Arthur cutting him off before he can say anything further. “I expect you’ve brought everything for me to look at.”
“Yes, Father.” Matthew unzips his backpack. Arthur’s eyes are still on the menu looking at American Fish n Chips.
“Good. It’s been far too long since I last saw you. I want to be sure your mum isn’t letting you slack off too much. I know she already lets you and your brother run wild if your latest escapades are anything to go by.” Matthew’s hands on the zippers ball tight to white knuckles.
Calm down. Calm down already you can’t handle a little teasing? You’re not back in second grade with the kids calling you a weirdo just let it go already. It’s just the game, it’s just a little playacting like Al does all the time when he’s “getting in character” and… and he can go shit in his hat if he thinks I’m not gonna hit him with this book “father or no. He has the composition book Arthur asked him to keep in his right hand along with his report card. The folder of graded assignments still sits in the bag unnoticed. No. No, I’m gonna throw it. Yeah. Right between the eyes like that knuckle puck in The Mighty Ducks and- Matthew bangs his knee on the table with a yelp halfway to standing up. He drops everything swearing under his breath. Arthur tells him to watch his mouth still more concerned with the menu than him
   There’s hammering in his head. Why aren’t you looking at me anymore? Arthur flips the page and tells him that he’s far too old to be making a scene. Why did you stop looking at me, Arthur?
“Father?” Arthur moves to the report card not sparing him a glance. He holds up a finger. Matthew sits on his right leg so he doesn’t kick him under the table. I’m right here, Arthur… I’m not in those papers. You really don’t need to look through everything, do you? Matthew glances to the concealed phone and instead takes the last menu. He opens it already knowing what he wants. His eyes dart quickly up and over the plastic pages up and down as Arthur carefully examines the grades and then silently opens the folder. I tried. I applied. I did everything you told me to do so I can be someone that you want to be with- that you won’t be ashamed to be with so can we... can we go back to looking at me again?
   “Father?” Arthur finally looks up like a punch in the gut. Not like that. I don’t like that teacher look. I don’t like that insect look I don’t like that dwarf in the flask homunculus look from FMA.
“This isn’t everything I need to see, Matthew.” Chastising. Cold. I’ll give you everything, Arthur just say it.
“You don’t seem to be ready.”
“W-what?” His head snaps up and he sees Arthur calmly hand back the envelope.
“Are you afraid to show it to me?” Matthew’s mouth unconsciously waters at the question. I’ll show it to you right here if that’s what you want. But the tone is flat. Matthew’s fingers are fussing with the tie and he follows Arthur’s eyes off to the bag seated next to him. Ah right. Of course. Stupid. His lips stick together and puts the report card away full of the ABCs of not giving a fuck.
   “Am I going to be disappointed in what I see? Is that it?” Matthew licks his sticky stuck lips. I’ll never disappoint you, Arthur. I told you that on the phone when we talked. I’ll never let you down. Like When in Rome I Promise like whatever. You want a smart guy, you want a sophisticated guy or something I think. He opens his mouth and closes it again. And I... I can be that. I mean not now but... but this is like practice like training or something, right? I’m like your Eliza Doolitle and God you’re just as big an asshole as Higgins so... So say something, Matthew. You can play, or you can leave. Matthew pushes his glasses back on his face looking down at a hundred dollars worth of new clothes. Heh, stupid... you’re already playing. He reaches up fingers rubbing over the elastic holding back his hair and makes a fidget tightening the ponytail at the nape of his neck. I’ve already done this much for you, Arthur. Just don’t ask me to stick marbles in my mouth.
   Matthew takes a deep breath and takes the folder out. Go time, like Al would say.
“Have you...” His voice cracks and he clears his throat as he sets it down. “Have you ever been disappointed in anything I’ve shown you... Father?” Matthew only wavers a little at the end. Arthur doesn’t immediately answer him, taking it, flipping through the pages. Was that wrong? He sees Arthur’s head lift slowly to look at him as if just understanding the question. Jesus, say something already! Arthur’s eyes move up over his face and back down his neck, freezing there. That’s it! That’s that look! Arthur’s hand is paused mid turn of the paper. That’s that look you gave me back then. Yeah just... just do that, Arthur... Father... Daddy... Matthew doesn’t allow his eyes to drop nervously. instead continuing to meet that expression. Every abalone explosion of the universe in green irises right now. He slowly reaches across the table to take Arthur’s hand. I just want to touch you so bad…
   Matthew stops himself mid-way in time to see Arthur turn his attention to the waitress, order a coffee and the special haddock. He snatches one of the papers from the small pile that sticks out. He doesn’t know which one. Does it matter, after all? You covered it. You covered it and you get to sit here and look and listed to his “wut” all day and think of everything you want to have in your mouth that isn’t marbles. Matthew orders Sprite with cherry syrup along with a large stack of pancakes smiling at the waitress so he’s not smiling at his “father” like he wants to go down on him reading over his his homework. I wanna go down, I wanna drown, I wanna Stroke, I wanna choke- while you poke, I wanna Savage your Garden like a chicken cherry coke... I wanna... I wanna never read Al’s poetry journal again, that’s what I want.
Matthew blows his bangs away from his face with only marginal success while Arthur reads. God, you’re starting to sound just as ridiculous as Al reciting lines or performing some crazy thing or another in the living room for Mom. He rests his head in his right hand, elbow on the table. I wish you would hurry up already. “I’mnotstupidy’know,” he mumbles looking down at the paper he’d stolen back. It’s his last French Exam with a prominent “A” written at the top.
“I never said you were,” Arthur answers with the absent tone of a parent placating an unreasonable adolescent. “If you recall, the last time we spoke I said you weren’t applying yourself.” Matthew’s eyes flicker up briefly annoyed as Arthur moves from History to Geometry. You’re ignoring me again. You can’t really care that much about my stupid grades…
He can’t hide the small pout of his lips as he takes a slow drink. That’s right Matthew, you’re not stupid. So maybe... maybe you should turn it back on him eh? Maybe it’s his turn to be on defense. Matthew considers that as Arthur looks at the last essay on “The Sun Also Rises” and holds his hand out for the paper Matthew had confiscated.
“How’s your French coming along? Or is that what you’re afraid to show me?” Now or never Matthew. What’s Al always telling you? Grow a pair? You haven’t stayed up studying up night after night just to freeze now. He’s not even going to know what you’re saying anyway.
“I’m not coming yet, Father,” he answers in perfect French. His thumb and index finger slowly slide up and down the shaft of the plastic straw slick with Sprite as he makes a slight tinkling stir of ice cubes. Arthur’s head snaps up immediately. Shit, you actually understood that?! Matthew forces himself to meet the look head on with a heated expression.
Arthur is the first one to look down. He sets the last paper aside and carefully puts everything back in its place. Matthew sees the slow draw of breath, the tense squaring of shoulders as he takes a long drink of black coffee.
“Learn that in class, did you?” he asks with a snort into the cup. Matthew glances toward his backpack- towards the phone still zipped away in the front compartment. He tucks his left foot underneath him, finger swirling around the rim of the glass as he looks back down feeling his stomach start to growl. Yeah, way to help my nerves, thank you, biology. He plucks his fingers into the glass taking neat hold of an ice cube. See that, Arthur? That was such perfect “Kill Bill” you have no idea. He realizes that Arthur didn’t see it at all, the cold ice melting all over his fingers.
“You’d be surprised at what I’ve learned, Father.” He slurps at the conjoined cube messily to punctuate the statement. Perfect. You did that just like Al.
Arthur’s grip tightens noticeably on the handle of the coffee cup. He sets it down hard, coffee sloshing into the table. Matthew pops the ice in his mouth and hears Alfred’s voice in his head at the same time. “Guess you could say you made him shoot his load, right, Mattie?” Matthew’s eyes go wide and he breathes in at the wrong moment choking on the ice. Both hands go to his throat as he coughs it out, watching the small pieces slide across the table pinging off of Arthur’s mug. He coughs until he’s red in the face and catches his breath again chest aching. The waitress brings their food and he can’t breathe well enough to smile or say hello or so much look up from the hot plate set down in front of him.
   He hears Arthur laughing once again that same bitter self recriminating sound practically throwing all the papers back across the table. The journal, absent in the stack and unread is placed at his side on the seat.
“Ah cor, you really are just a fucking kid, aren’t you?” Matthew swallows hard, taking another drink his face still red. The soda burns as it goes down his throat in too big a lump and he quickly shoves the papers back in his bag. A kid? I’m just a kid? Well you’re the one that wants to fuck a fucking kid or did you forget that you stupid hoser? And that? That’s a hundred percent Canadian and I’ll never explain that to you either so so... He sees the black sketchbook again, hands pausing over it. So, kid this, Arthur. Maybe I’ll show you this after all and you can see that I’m a lot more adult than you seem to think. His hand is running along the bound pages at the top until he watches his hand pulling the book out as if it belongs to someone else entirely. You pays your money your takes your chances, isn’t that the heart of it? Is it so bad to just want you to... that I just want... I just want you to see me... keep seeing me. Only me. You promised Arthur.
   Matthew takes a deep breath and pretends for a while that he’s Alfred- the grand actor, the theatric, the majestic. Everything you’re not, Matthew, that’s what you’re trying to say here..He fixates for a moment on the rolled up cuff of the white button down shirt he’s wearing. He replays as vividly as he can call to mind Arthur’s hands on the shirt collar. He lets his mind see lips, see hands, lets himself remember Arthur’s cock pushing against him when he- No. That’s not it at all. I’m everything you’re not, Al. That’s what Arthur said. He said “You’re better than him Matthew. I know you can be so much better than he ever was.” I know he had to be talking about you Al, and he’s right. Matthew takes it out, seeing Arthur’s curious look as he takes in a forkful of fish. That’s not the look. The look I want is... “Give daddy the keys, Matthew.” When you whispered that in my ear when I thought for sure we were gonna be doing like the Discovery Channel as soon as the door opened.
   “I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on the last few months, Father.” He can feel the thickness swallowing his voice, blinking that memory away. He squirms on the seat, chest tight. You can have Mom all to your damn stupid self, Al how’s that? The two of you can just keep all your stupid inside jokes, all your hot dog binging movie hopping crap. I don’t need you. I don’t need either one of you, all I need is Arthur. Just take it Arthur, I’ll give you everything of me, I want you so much. I’ll be your everything if you be mine. “I know you keep saying that I’m just dreaming with what I want... that you don’t think I’m being realistic but...” Matthew turns his head and practically shoves the book at him. Dreams are all I have, Arthur. Dreams and you. “Just... Justlookalreadyokay.”
   Arthur takes the book and sets his plate aside. Matthew swipes a french fry from his plate and dunks it in tartar sauce. Arthur gives a soft mutter of “brat” as he looks at the cover.
“I’ve told you before I don’t know a thing about art. Francis was always the one who-“ That line of thought immediately seizes his expression into something frozen and uncomfortable. Matthew wonders at it just long enough. Whoever you are, Francis, I hope you’re dead ‘cause I hate the way he just turns into that whenever he says your name and if you’re not dead yet I hope you get the “50 Ways to Say Goodbye” treatment and I’ll even buy a purple scion if I have to. He grabs the syrup squeezing the life out of the handle. “Right,” Arthur says clearing his throat, “I’ll do the best that I can.” Matthew almost holds his breath taking time to drench every bit of his pancakes in syrup. Arthur pulls the book back just resting on the edge of the table opening the cover. Matthew makes a study of the studious crease between those thick eyebrows with each turn. C’mon... c’monc’monc’mon...
   “God,” Arthur greets page five with a sharp intake of breath, eyes locked to the paper with an intensity that even Matthew can read. Yeah. That’s the look right there. That’s page five I know it. Page five, like the girls in the old Weekly World News that Mom has boxed up in the basement with a million other hoarded magazines. Page five like I know there’s five fingers that are wrapped around my dick and you have no idea how hard it was… well that too but God was I praying that Al didn’t come trying to bust the door in ‘cause he never cares if it’s 4AM or 4PM whatever Al wants Al just has to get whether it’s Mom working forever so we all get more money or... or God Arthur just look up and give me that look. He sees Arthur holds the pages still, mouth slightly open, eyes dilated, almost unblinking.
   Yeah, that’s me. That’s me in front of you too, that the Matthew I can be, Arthur. That’s hours of different angles, lights, that mirror I borrowed from Mom’s room, pictures, everything to get that right, to be that Matthew. Turn the page, pleasepleaseplease turn it to page six. I want to see you looking at me looking at you from over my glasses and I want you to know just how badly I need you. He counts three more turns of the page watching Arthur far too closely to even consider eating as each turns comes more slowly, Arthur’s lips staying parted, breath coming more loudly until finally he looks up with a slowly close of the cover. Matthew untucks his leg from underneath feeling pins and needs as he flexes the blood flowing back into his foot. Both hands hold the seat like he’s on a ride about to free fall. I bet you’re not thinking of a bunch of jerky crap to say now, are you? Well I just upped the ante “Daddy” so the ball’s in your court. He smiles.
“Do you like what you see, Father?”
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Candyland