A/N: Written for Canada Day! Happy birthday, Mattie! Not intended to be a slash fic, but if you want to put on your slash goggles... I'm not sure where that sentence is going. This is my first Hetalia fic (well, the first one posted), so I would love some feedback!

Canada awoke to the sun shining through the window and the scent of pancakes and maple syrup heavy in the air. He sniffed, unsure if he was still dreaming. Feeling around on his bedside table for his glasses, he groggily lifted his head and sat up. The sound of pots and pans being dropped resounded from his kitchen, making him leap out of bed. He rushed into the dining area, heart pounding and not knowing what to expect.

He was met with the unexpected sight of his brother digging through his cabinets. "America, what are you doing?!" Matthew yelled, but his quiet voice was lost in the cacophony Alfred was making with his dishes.

The American turned around, nearly dropping the stack of plates in surprise. "Oh, hey little brother! Since it's your birthday, I decided to drop by and make you breakfast!"

Matthew blinked in surprise. He didn't think anyone would remember. Unsure of what to say, he settled on a quietly mumbled thank you that Alfred showed no signs of even hearing as he tended to the pancakes. The Canadian slipped a hand around the precariously perched pile of plates and quietly extracted it from Alfred's grip. He set them on the counter and with a small sigh, set about to pick up the carelessly tossed dishes and bowls. "America... Why did you decide to do this?"

His brother blinked. "Oh, come on. Like I would just forget my own brother's birthday. I mean, I drove all the way out here to your house!"

"But, America, we live next door to each other. And you've never visited on my birthday before..."

Alfred set the spatula down and crossed his arms over Matthew's flour-stained, maple-leaf-patterned apron. His face was unreadable. "Hey, you should feel lucky that I even got up this early. I mean, I could be at home, sleeping in, but today I decided to cook you breakfast, so you should be thankful!"

Matthew shook his head, "No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry-"

Alfred laughed, a bittersweet sound while Matthew unconsciously began to retreat. His foot crashed into something metallic and as if in slow motion, he threw his arms out as the floor rushed at him. Something solid collided with his back and he found himself pressed chest to chest with his brother, his head inches from the floor. Alfred hastily set him upright again and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but the piercing sound of the smoke alarm going off interrupted his train of thought.

"The pancakes!" Alfred unnecessarily shouted and began to beat at the black, smoking crisp with a towel. Matthew shut off the burner and tossed the pan into the sink, where it sizzled for a moment before the alarm finally died down. The brothers leaned against the counter, panting and wheezing, hearts racing as the air cleared.

"So... you still wanna try them?" Alfred held out the plate of unburned pancakes and a bottle of Matthew's favorite brand of maple syrup.

Canada smiled shyly and pulled out two forks for the both of them to enjoy the rest of his birthday in peace.