APH: Only in it for the Health Care ((AmericaxCanada, England))
((The title really has nothing to do with the story... it's just for my own personal amusement. :3 Hope you like it!))
Only in it for the Health Care
"But I'm not-"
"I am going to kill you, you bloody bastard-!"
"But-"
"Ungrateful little-!"
"But I'm- AHH!" Before he could get a single sentence out, he was yanked roughly backwards by the collar and dragged through the front door, which was quickly slammed shut behind him.
A very pissed off England was left screaming on the other side.
"But I'm Canada…" he finished quietly, collapsing to the floor in shock. He rubbed at his throat where his own shirt had nearly beheaded him, leaving a bright pink slash mark.
"What are you mumbling about?"
"Ah!" Matt jumped a little bit at the voice that came from above him and lifted his head. A mirror? No. Mirrors didn't talk… Damn it, even he couldn't tell himself apart from his brother!
"Matt, what are you doing on the floor? Weirdo." Alfred laughed.
"You- you pulled me down!" Canada replied, still gasping for air.
But Alfred wasn't listening to him. He was at the window, knocking on the glass and sticking his tongue out at Arthur. "So, how come you're here, Matthew?" Alfred suddenly spun around after pulling the blinds down on the British man. He grabbed his brother by the arm and hauled him to his feet.
"I… just wanted to visit you." The dazed nation stumbled as he stood. "But England chased me all the way here, thinking I was you, yelling about how you cheated… cheated him out of something- or… cheating with something… something to do with Russia…and…drunken Facebook photos?"
America laughed again. Loudly. Very loudly. "That poor, delusional Brit!" Too loudly...
"Uhm-"
"So, Matt, you wanted to visit? You have excellent timing! I'm grilling out tonight!" America bounded away, leading the way down the hall and into the kitchen. "Wanna stay for dinner?"
"Well-"
"Come on, Matt!"
"Sure, why not…"
"Great! We're having hamburgers!" America threw open a door onto the back patio and stuck his head underneath the charcoal grill that was sitting like a fat black monster in the corner. His brother couldn't help but notice all the scorch marks on the wood around the grill… "Hey, Matt, bring me the patties? They're in the fridge, wrapped in foil." A cool breeze slipped between them, rustling Alfred's hair as he prodded at the coals with a stick.
"Sure, but- uh… Why do you keep doing that, eh?"
"Doing what, Matt?" Alfred muttered with the stick clenched in his teeth as he hauled the dragon-grill to a less crispy corner of the balcony.
"Never mind…It's nothing."
Perhaps he should have noticed it long ago, but Matt was suddenly aware that his brother had been calling him by name much more than usual lately. Was Alfred trying to make up for all of the mistaken-identity incidents?
Returning successfully from the refrigerator (which was a feat indeed, considering America stored enough food in there to last through a third World War), Canada plopped into the nearest deck chair to relax. It was always the nicest here, enjoying the quiet with his brother. He closed his eyes and hundreds of memories popped up like fireworks behind his eyes and blended together, all of them different and precious. They blended with the sizzle and pop of cooking meat and that sharp, saucy smell that came along with it, almost strong enough to burn his nose... and only the tickling breeze could reach them here, and the gentle sun-
"America, you whoring bastard!"
Canada kicked his legs so hard in surprise that he flipped over in the chair, landing face down on the wooden planks.
"Uh-oh." America scratched his head, a look on his face as if he were a naughty child who had just been caught by his mother. "Maybe we should eat inside…"
"Come. Down. Here. So I can have a proper word with you!"
"England is scary when he's mad…" Matt cried out, crawling for the door amidst the sudden onslaught of flying rocks. Alfred piled the half-raw burgers onto a plate and leapt to safety, locking the porch doors afterwards in case their assailant felt like climbing. "What on earth did you do to him?"
"That's a long story, and-"
There was a muffled but aggravated shriek from outside.
"Hey Matt, why don't we microwave these burgers? They aren't done yet."
Several button-pressings and beeping sounds later, they were seated at the kitchen table, assembling their hamburgers.
"Whoa. That's a lot of salt!" Alfred commented through a full mouth, watching his brother dump a blizzard of salt onto his bun with an expression of awe and admiration.
Matt only nodded, turning a bit red from the stare he was getting, and took a bite. "I like it that way..."
"You know, you haven't visited in forever, Matt."
"Well, you've been pretty busy, electing your new boss and all…"
"Yeah, he's totally bad-ass." America chomped down happily, blissfully unaware of the ketchup he was spraying onto the table. He reached for another hamburger, glancing nervously over his shoulder to make sure the patio lock was still securely fastened. The sun had vanished outside, leaving a solid black wall pressing at the windows. "Hey, Matt, you should stay the night, if you aren't busy."
"But…shouldn't you be mending things with Arthur?" Canada pulled his napkin into his lap, absently twisting it into a tiny spiral.
"That guy'll be fine. He just needs a day to cool off." America waved his hand through the air, swiping away all responsibility. Then he leaned across the table, peering intently at his brother with giant blue eyes, waiting for an answer.
"Well… I suppose I could… Sure," Matthew mumbled, squirming under the gaze and sinking down in his chair a bit.
"Great! You can camp in the living room, just like old times!" Alfred pushed away from the table, clearing their plates.
Matt was not entirely sure he should have agreed to this… but his brother wanted him to stay, so... he should stay, right? It would be rude not to-
"Come on, I'll show you how the sofa pulls out." Alfred was already around the corner by the time his brother stood up. "Okay… You just pull this lever, aannd wham!" Alfred pulled the lever and nothing happened. "Hmm… maybe it's stuck." He gave it a few more stubborn tugs. "Mattie, can you help me with this?"
Matt stepped to the side of the couch and put his hands on the lever, prepared to pull with all his might. What he wasn't prepared for was his brother's hands wrapping over his own, warm and gentle… or Alfred's body leaning into his own from behind, like in a slow-motion embrace.
"Ready? PULL!"
Matt panicked and his grip jerked wildly. Both sets of hands slipped off the lever and both brothers toppled backwards with the force of America's momentum.
Wow…Alfred's house had really nice carpeting. It was like landing on a giant mattress. So soft. Wouldn't it be nice to just lay there forever?
"Matt. Matt, you're crushing me." Alfred groaned from underneath him. Oh. That was why the carpeting was breathing…
"I'm sorry!" Canada squealed, rolling frantically to the side, thudding onto the floor beside his brother. Alfred was rubbing the spot where his head had slammed the ground. "Did- did I hurt you?"
"Ahahaha- are you kidding? I never get hurt!"
"Let me see." Matt scooted forward, coaxing a reluctant hand away from his brother's injury. Now it really was like old times. Why was Alfred so stubborn? There was a bump forming beneath his hair, but no blood. Matt let his fingers rest there for a moment, twined around the shiny blond locks.
"...Matt?"
The Canadian blinked and looked around to find his face was only inches from his brother's. He sucked in a shaky breath. "Uhm. It doesn't look too bad, but maybe you should lie down," he stammered, sitting back on his knees. He could feel that darned irritating redness creeping back onto his face.
"Stupid couch," Alfred huffed, clambering to his feet. "Oh well. I guess it doesn't matter. You can just share my bed."
"Wha-"
"I'M GOING TO SEND A CANNONBALL THROUGH YOUR BLOODY WALL IF YOU DON'T OPEN UP THIS INSTANT!"
There was a violent pounding at the window.
"For God's sake, he doesn't own me…" America mumbled. He took his brother by the arm and dragged him away and up the stairs, barring every door they went through with a large piece of furniture. When they finally reached the bedroom, Alfred let Matthew go and flopped onto the bed with a loud sigh.
Shivering, Canada stood frozen in the middle of the room. He wasn't used to this kind of dangerous lifestyle…
"You can sit down," Alfred told him casually. He adjusted his glasses and then stretched his arms with a noisy yawn.
Matt hesitantly joined him at the edge of the bed. It had been years since he had seen the inside of his brother's room.
Looking around, it was still the same as it had been when America had been an obnoxiously cocky teenager. There were proud, patriotic banners taped to every inch of wall, including the ceiling, and there was even a statue of a golden eagle fixed to the top of the headboard. Not much had changed except that now America was a cocky adult.
"I'm exhausted," Alfred complained, getting up to cross the room, headed for the closet. "I bet there's something in here that will fit you." As if that would really be a problem; they were basically the same size. "Here!" The eldest brother cheerfully pulled out a rolled up pair of white pajamas. He shook them out and tossed them to Matt, who blocked just in time to avoid getting hit in the face.
Seconds later, Matt was hurriedly yanking the shirt over his head, blushing madly into the fabric. Alfred had started to strip in the middle of the room, sparing no time for modesty. His younger brother snuck an embarrassed peek, catching a glimpse of a toned chest and flexing muscles. With much panic, he realized he was staring and turned away to finish dressing.
Alfred plopped back onto the bed. "Great! Those fit perfect!" He fixed Matthew with an approving gaze.
Matt tried to mumble something but by the look on Alfred's face, it was inaudible. The older blonde just blinked and smiled a giant, shiny smile.
"You look tired. Let's go to bed." He pulled the sheets up from underneath them and reached over to turn out the bedside lamp.
Matt rolled onto his side to hide his face in the pillows, relieved to be able wear the darkness as a mask.
"Hey, Matt?"
"Hm?" Matt pulled the covers tight against his chest. It unnerved him to hear that voice whispering so close to his ear. If he reached out right now, he could touch his brother, lying right next to him. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe this was how he would die: hyperventilation. Alfred would wake up in the morning, confused and devastated, to find his brother cold and dead, having drifted silently away in the night...
Alfred's next words interrupted the funeral proceedings that were going on inside Matt's head. "I'm happy that you came to visit. I've missed you."
Matt's heart fluttered. He dared to turn towards his sibling. He couldn't see Alfred, but he could sense that they were face to face.
Alfred had missed him? It was strange to hear the energetic man speaking so quietly.
"Really?" Canada asked.
"Yeah. Remember when we were young, before you met Kumajiro? I used to be your teddy bear..."
There was a thickness to the words that Matt could not describe. Yes. Yes, he remembered. He had always snuggled up to his brother, whenever he was frightened…during lightning storms, or just because he could…
"But I guess you're all grown up now-"
"ALFRED! I AM NOT LEAVING! EVEN IF I HAVE TO SLEEP OUTSIDE AGAIN-!"
Matt jumped a foot high off of the bed. His stomach leapt into his throat. Without thinking, he clutched at Alfred for protection with both arms and tucked his head against his brother's chest.
After a few tense moments, Arthur's ear-piercing shouts ceased outside the window, but both of the brothers knew that he was still lurking somewhere around the yard. Silence echoed through the room.
"I-I'm sorry! He just surprised me-" Matt released his grip and started to pull away, thoroughly humiliated with his own childish display.
"It's okay." Alfred promised in a smooth voice that made a chill run up his brother's back.
Matt felt the heat of a pair of arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer. He didn't fight it. At this rate, his nerves were going to make him sick. He smiled hesitantly; it was comfortable. He could feel a heartbeat pulsing next to his head. A gasp escaped him at the warm breath that grazed his ear.
"I'll be your teddy bear for tonight."
Matthew closed his eyes and melted into his brother's grasp. He could smell the musky scent of prairie grass… the sting of ocean foam… pure… floating… He was thinking he should visit his brother more often.
( Alas, when Canada left the house the next morning, England chased him down the street with a chainsaw. )