A/N: Hello!

Although this is not my first fanfiction, it's my first one in this fandom. I'm aware of the fact that it's not perfect (in any way, shape, or form), so I'm open for constructive criticism.

Anyways, that aside, enjoy. :)

WARNING: Prussia/Canada. Don't like don't read.

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia or any other brand that I've mentioned.

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, trying to get his younger brother's attention and tackling him in the process. Matthew looked up, wincing slightly as Alfred's power knocked him over to the ground. His glasses fell to the side, and he reached over to grab them with his right arm before pausing, arm still outstretched and pain surging through his right side. Alfred's bright blue eyes widened with curiosity, before his eyebrows wrinkled. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Matthew nodded carefully after a second. "My stomach just kind of hurts. But I'm sure it'll be okay."

"Are you suuureeee?" Alfred asked, scrutinizing his brother and drawing out his words. "Last time that happened to me was the Civil War. How are your citizens doing? No civil unrest or anything?"

It was a bit odd for Matthew to know that his brother cared so much, especially when he had the reputation of being unable to read the atmosphere, arrogant, and uncaring for anyone unless it managed to involve him in some way. When it came to Matthew, though, that was a different story. Alfred seemed to care for his younger brother almost as much as he cared for himself, showed mainly in the way that he didn't always forget his name and who he was. He was Canada, after all!

"No, they're all happy, I think," Matthew frowned, sitting up. What on earth could be causing all the pain?

Alfred seemed to be wondering the same thing. However, it seemed as if his brother had an idea. He scooted off to the side of Matthew, jumping up and grabbing his hand. He yanked him up (as gently as the hero could, of course) and began dragging along as Alfred strolled to his computer.

"What are you doing?" Matthew questioned, eyes shut tight as the imaginary knife that he pictured in his side digging deeper with every twitch of his right leg.

"There's a website that most people in my country swear by," Alfred began, throwing himself into the chair and pulling up the internet, "when it comes to medical mysteries." Matthew rolled his eyes.

"It's not a mystery," he commented. "It's just a stomach ache." Although he hated being ignored, he had to say that being made a big deal wasn't his favorite thing either.

"It just seems weird," Alfred shrugged. After slowly typing in the site address (which annoyed Matthew to no end), it finally popped up. Alfred clicked on "symptom checker", and then looked up at his brother. "Hey, Mattie? How old are you?"

"144 years," he replied. Alfred paused.

"Should I just say 65 plus?" he questioned after a minute.

"We're nations," Matthew clarified after a second. "Being 144 for a nation is like being, I dunno, 22 or so for a normal person."

Alfred nodded, pressing the appropriate buttons. "So, it's a stomach ache?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "No. I've obviously gone blind in one eye. Of course it's a stomach ache."

"Here. Answer these for me," Alfred said, rolling his chair a bit to the side and letting Matthew carefully lean over. The box that he had clicked on brought up a new popup, and from just scanning the page Matthew was already a bit concerned. Americans sure had a lot of health problems- not to say that the Canadians didn't, but it was just more noticeable through sites like this one.

"One of eight?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. Gotta run through a lot of stuff to see what it is," Alfred nodded, a proud smile on his face. Matthew sighed, and turned back to the computer screen.

"How would you describe your pain and discomfort?" he read quietly to himself, scanning over all the numerous options. After a minute of thinking, he finally clicked on one that said 'sharp or stabbing'. He did think that it felt like a knife, but there were just too many options. Matthew could see out of the corner of his eye that Alfred was beginning to pale, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on the edge of his bomber jacket like he had a habit of doing when he was worried. "It's okay. Really." Of course, the next question was about the severity of the pain. There was a second of consideration, and then pressed 'moderate'.

The next question was about which side of the body the pain was on, and of course Alfred already knew about that so there wasn't as drastic of a reaction from him. As the next question popped up, the phone began ringing in the background.

"Sorry, Mattie!" Alfred exclaimed, jumping up and starting to go out of the room. "That's Kiku. He's been having some problems lately. Gotta take this."

Matthew nodded, and when Alfred left the room he began reading through the options. "Made worse after coughing or sneezing...after eating wheat...here we go, with sudden movement." A bright orange box popped up, and his eyes widened as he read it. 'If you are experiencing abdominal pain made worse by sudden movement, please seek emergency medical attention'. The next one made Matthew pause: 'or made worse when pressing on right lower abdomen'. He knew that it was his right side that was hurting, but no one had really pressed on it. Naturally, he had to try it himself.

By the time that Alfred came back in the room twenty minutes later, Matthew had just finished recovering from the solid poke he had given himself and began once more to read through the questions. The next three answers were simply 'none of the above', and the very last question stumped him. Finally, he decided that it'd been a fairly gradual onset of the pain, and the results list popped up.

Alfred grabbed control of the mouse, and clicked on the first item. After reading through the symptoms and other information (which took entirely too long, yet again), Matthew could hear his brother's breath catching in his throat. "Jeez! Mattie!" he yelped, grabbing his brother's hand and beginning to drag him out of the room. "We've got to get you to the hospital, fast!"

"Hold on," Matthew replied. "Just calm down, Alfred. That was just the first one you clicked on. Isn't this the site that also has 'bubonic plague' on its list of ailments?"

Alfred paused, before reluctantly beginning, "...yeah, but still! This could get very bad, very fast! Let's go!"

"Let's not," Matthew told him.

"Aww," Alfred sighed. "What's the problem this time?"

"Nothing," Matthew stammered, "I just think that it's unnecessary."

"Ah, I know what it is," Alfred said with a gleam of mischief hinting in his baby blue eyes. "Mattie, you hate hospitals, don't you?"

"No I don't," Matthew frowned, crossing his arms and noticing that He had unconsciously wrapped his arm around his right side.

"Then why do you refuse to come with your brother who is number one?" Alfred asked, raising an amused eyebrow. Matthew scowled.

"I don't think it's necessary," he repeated. The longer time went on, the more he thought that his brother was just overreacting. Not like he's never done that, of course, because that happened all too often. "Wait...what are...?"

"MATTIE HATES HOS-PIT-ALS~!" wailed Alfred out the nearest window, a maniac grin on his face.

"Stop it, eh!" Matthew exclaimed the loudest that his little voice was able to, his body shaking a bit. He could be /so/ thickheaded sometimes that it was a miracle he even got blood up to his brain. And of course, to his anger, he was often the one mistaken for his dimwitted brother and blamed for whatever he happened to do wrong that day. He paused, grabbing his side again and choking back tears from the sudden rush of pain.

"That's it, Matthew. If Arthur or, dear god, Francis saw you like this, you'd be in the ER sooner than you could blink. You're coming with me now, whether you like it or not, mister," Alfred decided. And when Alfred decided something, that was the last word.

This was a rare instance. It seemed almost as if the two brothers had switched roles- Alfred, with a worried expression coated in a smug "I-told-you-so" look; Matthew laying in the hospital bed and grimacing because he would, never ever, not in a million years, admit that Alfred was right. It's not like he'd need to, because he would just go around boasting it to everyone (which would probably be countered with a confused "who?", but that was a different issue that Matthew didn't want to delve into right at the moment).

"Judging by your elevated white blood cell count and your symptoms, which describe a classic textbook case, you have appendicitis," the doctor told them, smiling weakly down at Matthew who felt his heart sinking. "You're lucky that your brother here brought you in when he did."

"Told you so," Alfred smirked, sticking his tongue out at Matthew who responded back with a meek glare. "The hero is always right! Ha-hahahaha!"

"Please don't elevate his ego. It's inflated enough as is," Matthew requested.

"I'll try, Mr...Williams, is it?" he asked, glancing over at the computer. Matthew nodded. "We'll get you into surgery as soon as we can." He paused, hearing a loud clatter of machines and whatnot coming down the hallway. "And, apparently, that would be now." The doctor grabbed two syringes (one of morphine, and the other of some sort of anesthesia) and began putting them through the IV. Maple, cursed Matthew silently. He hated needles, and IVs, and surgery, and hospitals. Was he ever going to admit it? No, probably not. It would just prove more of his scaredy-cat nature. So, that phobia he was going to simply keep to himself. The last thing that he heard before the stinging eased in his left arm and he began to fall asleep was the self-proclaimed hero's typical laugh, which was comforting, in a way.

Matthew woke up in a quiet hospital room. The smell of cleaners was too strong, and lacking enough flour and maple syrup for him to even begin to be comfortable. The pain in his side was starting to ease up, or so he thought anyways. He was missing his appendix now- which was always a strange thought. That promptly lead him to wondering if he should put up signs for it, and when he found it if he should put it on a leash to keep it from getting mad and running away again. He laughed at his own wild imagination, earning a strange look from the small white bear to the side of him.

"Who're you?" he questioned.

"I'm a humming bird, silly," Matthew laughed. The morphine was messing with his brain, but he wasn't coming to this rational conclusion just yet. Now, where had his idiot brother gone?
"Where are you, Alfie?" Matthew called out, using his childhood nickname, with a crooked smile on his face. He scanned the room, and no sign of him. That was okay, though. Sometimes he'd rather smell antiseptic and lemons than the stench of greasy hamburgers and shakes that he was pretty sure was just leaking from Alfred's pores by now.

"He's not here right now, but you have another visitor," the nurse replied. Woah- when had she gotten here? She reminded Matthew of, well, himself sometimes. As she left the room, he realized who the visitor was.

Of course, it had to be the near albino ex-nation. Gilbert and Matthew had a history of friendship that all started with a borrowed bottle of maple syrup. As far as Matthew could see, it was also an unrequited love. It was almost heartbreaking, but he knew that even ex-nations wouldn't bother to notice him. Of course, he didn't like dwelling with pity parties. He'd much rather admire the handsome beast in front of him. His silvery blonde hair was messy, not unlike Matthew's blonde locks that he had gotten from Francis, but about the same length of Alfred's. He didn't have an ahgoe, or a curl, which Matthew thought was unique. His eyes were a quality that he always especially liked- ruby red, the same color as the maple leaf on his flag. Red was a good color.

He had a tall, muscular but slim, sturdy and well built frame. A frame that he just wanted to pick him up and hold him in his arms and-

"Earth to Birdie? Hello?" Gilbert asked, waving five fingers so that they barely brushed by Matthew's glasses. Matthew blinked, looking up at Gilbert. The little yellow bird always on his head, and thus dubbed "Gilbird", was chirping away like nobody's business- and was that a little bit of a blush on Gilbert's face? "Jeez, kid. And West calls me deaf." He blinked, thinking about that for a second. "Actually, no, it's Feliciano who's deaf. The awesome me is just obnoxious." Gilbert laughed, his trademark 'kesesesese' that was so unique that it just made Matthew laugh himself. That was something else about Gilbert that made Matthew love him- his personality. He was louder than average, which contrasted with Matthew who was easily forgotten about because of his shy nature, but spunky and not willing to give up on what he believed in. Sure, he was kind of full of himself, but Matthew would honestly rather hang out with someone who was full of himself rather than having to always be complimenting and picking up their self esteem- being like himself, essentially.

"Hi," Matthew grinned. Gilbert chuckled, and pulled over a chair so that he was sitting next to Matthew. "What are you doing here, Gil?"

"Ouch, Birdie. That could've hurt the awesome me's feelings," Gilbert replied mockingly, holding an arm over his chest and pouting. "But it didn't so we're okay. Anyways, I'm in here because I heard, from the thirty seconds that your slightly-more-than-idiotic brother remembered you, that you were in here from something going to explode. Of course, since we're best buddies, I had to come over and now the awesome me is here." Matthew smiled, and the two friends began talking.

"I still think that the war Alfred, Arthur and I had back in 1812 was pretty awesome," Matthew replied. "Hey, those squirt guns were pretty epic. It was the first time that Alfred had lost- and lemme tell you, he's a sore loser."

"Yeah, it was pretty badass of you, Mattie," Gilbert grinned, clearly enjoying this version of Matthew. "Didn't you light his vital regions on fire or something too?"

Matthew nodded. "Arthur and I burned his capital. It was fun, but he claimed that it hurt for another three years or whatever. I think he was just exaggerating."

Gilbert laughed, and Matthew blushed slightly. That laugh of his always sent shivers down his spine. Matthew went to reply, and instead let out a yawn and realized how heavy his eyes were getting. "I should probably get going soon," Gil informed him. "It's fun spending time with you, especially since you've earned the 'awesome me award' more times than anyone else- besides me, of course. But the awesome Prussia has other, less fun, things to do as well. Feel better, Birdie." He patted Matthew on the head, and as he reached the door, Matthew called out his name. "Yeah?"

"I love you, Gilbert," Matthew announced, a smile on his face. A silence dropped down upon them, the only noise being Gilbird's soft 'piyo' from where he was perched on a nest of silver hair. "I like-like you, silly." Matthew noted the scarlet that attacked Gilbert's face before he wordlessly left the room. It didn't quite register in his mind what he had just done before the darkness and morphine overcame him and he fell asleep.

The next two days were nothing short of torture, with pain from his stitches and the hatred that he felt towards hospitals in the first place. Finally, though, he was released from that hell and able to go home.

Matthew was visited by Alfred, who almost never left his side, except to go get a hamburger or to take a call from Kiku, for reasons that Matthew didn't quite get but didn't bother asking; Francis, who came over apologizing and worrying about him in French, which Matthew replied back in shaky French grammar that he was alright now; and on one occasion his acquaintance Juan who came with an offering of ice cream. On one occasion, when Alfred had rushed out of the house without telling Matthew where he was going, he had looked up from the couch he called his new home to see none other than the spunky albino. It was as if he'd known better than to show up when Alfred was around- which honestly was a smart idea. Alfred for whatever reason seemed to hold a strong grudge against Gilbert.

He came and sat cross-legged on the floor next to Matthew, looking up at him. Matthew rolled over carefully, being sure not to irritate his stitches and sore side. Alfred and Matthew had been playing catch with a small stuffed animal earlier that landed softly on his stomach and created so much turmoil it brought tears to his eyes.

"H-hi," Matthew started, smiling nervously down at Gilbert. There was something in his facial expression today that made it simply unreadable, something that Matthew had never seen before. Naturally, this made him a bit uneasy.

"Hey," Gilbert nodded stiffly.

What was it that he'd done? If it was something when he was slightly, well, drugged, then he'd just explain that he didn't mean it. But what if he had, and had done something totally embarrassing? Like...admitting his love embarrassing?

Maple. He had done that, hadn't he?

"So...um...what's up?" Matthew asked, adjusting his glasses and running a finger through his curl. It didn't do weird things to him like the Vargas brother's curls did to them, nor did he have panic attacks whenever anyone touched it like Alfred's. It was just...there. Sort of like him.

"I just wanted to come visit, since the awesome me is always good at making people feel better," Gilbert stated, causing Matthew to quietly sigh of relief. "Plus, I wanted to...um...talk to you about something." The breath caught in his throat halfway out. "So, what you told me as I was leaving when I saw you last...is that true?"

"Is what true?" Matthew questioned quietly, trying to pretend that he didn't know what Gilbert was talking about.

"Is it true...that you love me?" he breathed, his face growing to be the same shade as his eyes. A silence swept over the two of them. Kumajiro (who had recently earned a name tag, which Matthew was thinking about doing for himself) adjusted himself down on Matthew's feet.

"What are you talking about?" Matthew questioned, and Gilbert smirked.

"I think you know what I'm talking about, Mattie," Gilbert replied. "And I know you're going to deny it. Yeah, mmhmm, of course you're going to deny it. Don't bother, though, because everyone loves the awesome me."

"How awkward would it make things...if I said...yes?" Matthew asked slowly after a few seconds of silence, looking into Gilbert's crimson eyes. He could feel the heat radiating off of his face, causing him to wipe his brow softly even though there really was nothing there.

"It depends," Gilbert replied coolly, a slight smile on his face. "The awesome me is often good at deciding stuff like that, along with other things, like who deserves the 'awesome me award'. But, you know what, Mattie?"

"What?" Matthew wondered. Gilbert grinned, a genuine happy smile that was rare for him.

"I love you too," he said, leaning in before Matthew could reply and kissing him on the lips.

He would never admit this, but this was the first time Matthew had ever kissed anyone. It was...wet, to say the least. He didn't know if this classified Gilbert as a "good" kisser or not, but he didn't mind, so he went along with it. What he would admit, though, was the feeling of someone lighting off a couple dozen firecrackers inside his head. That he knew was a good feeling.

After a few seconds (they assumed it was closer to five minutes, given the way that both of them were breathing), their passionate moment was interrupted by a voice much shriller than Matthew was accustomed to. "Oh...my...god. What the HELL are you doing to my Mattie?"

By the way, in case you didn't realize it, Juan is Cuba.