A loud crash echoed around the fair sized house.
"HEY MATTIE!" a loud, obnoxious voice called out. "I GOT THIS NEW IDEA FOR SOME FOOD I KNOW YOU'LL LIKE!" He ran to the living room. "YOU CANADIANS LIKE BACON, RI- Mattie?" It wasn't until he was almost done his sentence when he noticed that the other wasn't there. The tall blonde frowned. "Where the hell is he? Is he hiding from America?" he paused, then laughed, quite loudly. "Yeah right! Everyone loves America!" He turned on his heel and bound up the stairs next to him.
"Mattie~!" He opened every door he came across. The third door in, after going through the bathroom, linen closet and spare room, he began getting angry. Grabbing hold of the door knob and whipping it open, he shouted, "MATTIE- OHSHI-" As a large amount of hockey gear fell on top of him, he realized that too was not where his little brother was.
He kicked the leg pad off his foot, grumbling to himself. He went to the next door and opened that one, too. "Hey Mattie-" he just stared.
Kumajiro turned away from the canvas which had a half finished winter scene and held the paintbrush in the air.
Silence.
"Hey, bear, do you know where Mattie is?"
"Who?"
"Nevermind." He closed the door and continued on his way. Last door, he opened it. He beamed when he saw that his brother was indeed there. "Mattie!" He pranced (yes, pranced, like a happy little ballerina) over to his brother, who was sitting at the desk in his bedroom, large headphones over his ears and his attention on his laptop. Alfred frowned. He poked his brother's side, getting a sqeak out of him. "Mattie!"
Canada turned to his brother, his eyes narrowed. He removed the headphones from over his ears, music pouring out of it. "What?" he snarled.
"Whoa, chill bro," Alfred said with a smirk, holding his hands up. "Did I interrupt your porn time or something?"
Matthew's face blushed read and just as his brother's eyes darted to the computer screen, he slammed his laptop shut.
"What the hell is PruCan?"
"N-Nevermind. Now, did you want something?"
"Oh yeah!" America clapped his hands, remembering why he came there and forgetting Matthew's fanfiction. "I made a new resipe, and improved some of yours!"
"…did you now?"
"Yeah, now, there's this thing I call a Bacon Loaf-"
"Next."
"But-"
"NEXT."
A pout. "Fine." He straightened up and hopped in place. "This one you'll love! Okay, okay, it's two slices of french toast, with your poutine* thingy between the slices, covered in maple syrup!"
Silence.
"You're kidding me, right?" Note to self, make myself one of those…
"I never joke about food, Mattie."
His seriousness scared his twin.
"O-Okay, what other monstrosity of the culinary arts do you have to announce."
"Okay okay, get ready for this one, cause you, I mean you as in Matthew Williams, lover of all that is pancakes-"
"Merde…"
"-will have an orgasm on the SPOT at the mere thought of this one." Alfred held his hand up, his eyes wandering around the room, as wide as his smile. With every second of forced anticipation, Canada became more and more scared. The nation, not the personification. "Deep. Fried. Pancakes!"
Dead. Silence.
"Get the fuck out."
"Wha-"
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU FUCKIN' HOSER!"
"N-no! not the hockey stick! No! NO! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Somewhere, (with his hands in England's underwear drawer) France had this weird feeling that he should thank Matthew next time he saw him.
Don't ask. Just… don't…
And don't take this seriously; there was no point to this. At all. I just kept writing everything that came into my head.
And I… don't know if Alfred is OOC or not…
*Poutine – The best part of being Canadian, in my opinion. It's HORRIBLY bad for you, since is it French Fries topped with cheese curds and gravy. Oh yes, it looks kinda gross, it sounds kind of gross, but it is amazing.