Summary: Canada decides that it's about time he and America go ice skating again. No hockey, no competition. But this time, Matthew has something special in store for the two of them...
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~Hasta la pasta, Scarllett out~
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"Mattie," Alfred whined as he slipped and slid on the ice, pouting like a child.
Matthew only chuckled in response. One of his hands was covering the taller nation's eyes, and the other was holding onto his arm to keep him steady as they crossed the ice.
The darkness fell in heavy curtains around them, and so Matthew was careful to watch his footing.
Matthew sucked in a deep breath, glancing nervously at their surroundings. Everything had to be perfect; tonight had to be perfect.
His heart pounded against his rib cage in the slightest, and his breath came in and out in nervous puffs.
Matthew dropped his hand from his twin's face, stopping for a second to brush his cheek. He took his brothers hands into his own, gaze never leaving Alfred's closed eyelids.
Slowly, after a moment of hesitation, Alfred opened his eyes. Cerulean blue met violet, and the two nations seemed to freeze.
The American most certainly did not expect what he saw.
The ice below them was dark and sparkling, reflecting the winking and shimmering constellations above them.
The sky above them was stretched and twisted out around them, flooded with stars. A magnificent, winking sea of stars and lights. Streaks of blue, purple and green struck the dark night.
Alfred, for the first time in years, was positively breathless. His chest stopped moving, and his breath stilled.
Matthew stared at him with wide, nervous violet eyes. His glasses were gone, his eyes shining brightly and reflecting the warped galaxy above them.
Before Matt could say anything, before he could so much as breathe, Alfred had crossed the distance between him.
He pressed his lips against his twin's, immediately wrapping his arms around the slightly shorter nation.
Matthew kissed him back without a second of hesitation, their bodies melding together perfectly.
Matthew shivered when a cold hand slid up the back of his jacket and into his shirt.
"Al," he murmured, giving the American's lower lip a gentle bite before pushing him away.
Alfred seemed to understand. This wasn't the time, nor the place.
Matthew had brought him here so they could skate together, like they always had. Like they did when they were little colonies; when they were older, when they were young nations.
And skate they did indeed. They skated the night away. Laughing, fumbling beneath the starry night. Stuck in their own world, as night slowly faded into dawn, and the world around them slipped away.