I awoke to the delicious smell of breakfast cooking and immediately knew my housemate, Matthew, was making pancakes. I yawned and slowly rolled out of bed, making my way to the kitchen. I knew my hair was a mess and that I had morning breath, but Mattie had seen me worse, living with me for almost two years now. He was my best friend ever, but I'd long wished he was something more. He was my only friend through high school when my parents were getting a divorce and had stuck with me through thick and thin. I felt very close to him, to say the very least. I'd wonder from time to time if he felt anything for me. I highly doubted it. He was my best friend and held me through several breakups, deaths, and my parents' divorce. He had seen me with mascara running down my face, red, puffy eyes, and even a couple bruises on my face from past boyfriends.
Yep, definitely lots worse.
When I walked in, the Canadian was facing the stove. He had on his pyjamas, red maple leaves scattered all over white silk. I snuck up behind him and hugged him around the waist, nestling my face in his wavy blonde hair, saying "boo" right in his ear and scaring the bejeezus out of him. He gasped and spun around, wielding his spatula in his hand like a sword.
"What are you going to do with that?" I giggled at his bewildered expression when he saw it was me.
He grinned sheepishly and blushed. "I don't really know..." he whispered and looked at the cooking utensil.
"Maybe fry whoever dares confront the Mighty Mattie?" I offered teasingly.
He laughed softly. "What are you doing up? I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed..." he actually looked a bit disappointed.
"Why?" I asked, confused. "What's going on today?"
He looked at me with surprise. "It's your birthday, remember?"
"Oh, yeah! Well, I'll tell you how you can make it up to me," I smiled and he raised his eyebrows. "Put extra maple syrup on it!"
"Deal!" He nodded, the odd, yet adorable, curl atop his head bouncing up and down.
I sat down and soon after a big plate with thick pancakes covered in syrup was in front of me. Matthew stuck a candle on top and I blew it out, making a secret wish.
After I made my wish, we both dug in, savouring the fluffy sweetness. After a couple of minutes we heard a new voice say "feed me" and looked over to see Kumajirou, Matt's polar bear cub.
"Alright, Kumakijoo," he sighed. He never got his pet's name right. "I'll get you some salmon."
"Who?" Kumajirou asked, cocking his head.
Matt sighed again. "Matthew. Your owner. The one who feeds you."
The polar bear always asked that. When I confronted him about it, he told me it was so Matt himself wouldn't forget who he was. He was practically invisible to most other people. The only people, other than me, who recognized him every time, were his French father, Francis, and his American half-brother, Alfred. All others never seem to remember his name and he was constantly confused with Alfred. So, while the bear's question was annoying and slightly hurtful, it helped the Canadian in the long run.
There was a loud bang on the front door. "Yo! Matt! _!"
Speaking of Americans, I had forgotten Alfred was coming up to Ottawa from Washington D.C. for a visit. Since Mattie was serving some fish to his bear, I got up to let Al in. Opening the door, I ask myself for the millionth time how the two half-brothers ever got mixed up. They were completely different! The only similarities between them were that they both had the same mom, were blonde-haired, and lived in North America. Mattie was smart, sweet, shy, and gentle, whereas Al was oblivious, annoying, loud, and hyper.
The American gripped me in a strong embrace. While I did think he was annoying, loud, and several other things, he was also a good friend and meant well. I smiled and patted his back.
"Hey, Al...I can't breathe..." I wheezed after a while. He really didn't know the extent of his strength.
"Oh, sorry," he chuckled, pulling back and looking at me from arms-length. He was dressed in his usual bomber jacket, along with a pair of blue jeans, a t-shirt with Captain America's shield on it, and combat boots. "You just got out of bed, didn't you?" he said, noticing my silk, yellow-bird-patterned pyjamas and messy hair.
"Yup!" I giggled and skipped back inside. "Mattie's in the kitchen," I called over my shoulder before heading to my room to tidy up and get dressed. I put on some faded blue skinny jeans that hugged my bum and a red shirt with a white maple leaf outline on it, feeling pride for the country I lived in and Mattie was born in. I pulled my hair back into two French braids and tied them with red silk ribbons. I put on my favourite jewellery, red wedges, and, since I lived in cold Canada, some white leg warmers.
I strutted back to the kitchen and saw the Canadian and his brother talking seriously. This worried me. Matthew could certainly be serious, but this was new for Al. Before they saw me approach, I heard the American say "Dude, you'll never know unless you tell her."
"Need to tell who what?" I asked, making them both jump.
Alfred glanced over at his half-brother before laughing. "That you guys are going to a hockey game tonight!"
I looked at them both, suspicious and not buying it, but I let it slide. I grinned widely. "Really? I can't wait!" I said excited.
"But first, we need to open presents and cut the cake!" Alfred pulled out a very bright (f/c) cake with "Happy Birthday!" written across the top and what looked like fireworks drawn in the middle. We ate the really sweet cake and I opened my presents. Alfred got me a horror video game - it looked like some sort of zombie game. Matthew, on the other hand, gave me a white sweater-jacket with "_ _" written in red on the back above the maple leaf, with stripes and more maple leaves along the bottom, all red. Something I could wear to the hockey game tonight! I gave them both a tight hug, telling them "Thank you."
-Time Skip-
"Bye, Al. Make sure you feed Kumajirou around six o'clock, okay?" Matthew and I were leaving early to go to dinner before the game, since food was always so expensive at sporting events. I assumed we would be going to a McDonald's for a quick bite on the way to Montreal, but my Canadian friend drove from our two-story house to an expensive-looking French restaurant. "Whoa," I said, in awe and a bit puzzled. "Mattie, what are we doing here?"
He looked shyly down at me. "Eating. Père owns this place, so we can eat here for free," he blushed. "I sound cheap, I know, but Père is a really great cook."
"Mattie, I don't want you spending any more money on me than you already have," I scowled at him, then laughed.
The waiter took us to a booth in a corner off to the side where I could get a good look at the place. It had a high-vaulted ceiling with an ornate chandelier hanging down. There were several tales, not very far apart, but not too close together. It was only five o'clock, so not many people were there for dinner yet. Everybody that was there, with exception of Mattie and me, were dressed in very fancy attire, so I felt out of place in my jeans, sneakers, and maple leaf sweater-jacket, though Matthew looked perfectly at ease in his matching outfit. I blushed at the thought of matching outfits. That's something couples usually do, right?
"_! Mazhew! Bonjour!" I heard the familiar French accent of Matt's dad and turned around to see him in a chef's outfit, which looked oddly stylish on him. He had his hair partially pulled back and loosely tied with a light blue ribbon under the large hat cooks wore.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Bonnefoy!" I smiled at the older man. "How are you?"
"I'm doing fine," he made a "tsk" sound and shook his head back and forth. "'Ow many times do I 'ave to tell you? Call me Francis. Monsieur Bonnefoy makes me feel old," he smiled at both of us. "Now, what would you like to eat, ma chère?"
"I'll just have some red wine and…er…" I attempted to say the French name, but then saw that it had the English translation under it. "…the white veal stew, please."
"Blanquette de veau," he muttered to himself, writing it down before turning to his son. "And you, Mazhew?"
"I'll have some red wine, as well, and the pot-au-feu," Francis jotted down his order, and then flashed one more smile before heading back to the kitchen. He came back not very long after with our drinks, then our food. We ate in silence, which was normal since Matthew wasn't very talkative in the first place, but the atmosphere was more tense than usual. I thought it was just me being excited and shrugged the notion off.
Once we were done, we drove for a couple of hours to a parking garage in Montreal before walking the rest of the way to the Bell Centre for the hockey game at seven. It was chilly out and I had forgotten my scarf and gloves, so Mattie offered me his, being the gentleman he is. I refused and he, not wanting me to be cold, took my arm in his to mix our body heat together. He avoided my eyes the rest of the walk, cheeks dusted pink.
We went straight to the front of the line with no complaints from anyone and even a couple greetings. They let us in as soon as they saw my Canadian friend, who everybody seemed to know, despite his normally being unnoticed. Even the hockey players of both the competing teams, the Ottawa Senators, visiting, and the Montreal Canadiens, home, came up to say "hello" and "bonjour". Matt took me to our front-row seats before saying he'd be right back. He walked down to the ice and all of the players greeted him and clapped him on the back, then handed him a microphone. He walked surely to the middle of the rink like he owned it and sang "O Canada" beautifully in his quiet voice in both of the official languages and joined me again.
"You did amazing!" I exclaimed and hugged him tight.
He blushed and whispered "Thanks…"
Then the game started.
Mathew was like a completely different person. No longer the shy and timid Canadian I knew, he shouted – yes, shouted – in frustration when the Canadiens scored and almost got into a fight with a man behind us who was rooting for them. I could tell he was restraining himself, since he was with me. Honestly, I wanted to see a fight, just not involving my Mattie. I was still having fun, though, since it was the first time I was watching any sort of live game and not sitting at home watching it on the TV.
Towards the end of the second period, I heard some catcalls and looked up to see that the Kiss Cam was on and there was a teenage couple locked in a heated make-out session. Before anything too drastic could happen and could scar the kids, the camera switched to an elderly pair, then a middle-aged duo, before another teenage couple with matching sweaters.
My face turned bright red when I realised that it was Mattie and I up on the big screen. I glanced over and saw him blushing furiously, as well. I shook my head to show we weren't going to kiss, but instead of going to another pair of lovebirds, it zoomed in a little I vaguely noticed the period ended and the players had stopped playing and had lined up at the wall, all of them grinning like idiots. "Kiss! Kiss!" they started chanting through the glass, their voices echoing throughout the arena The crowd soon joined in, despite Matt's and my desperate protests.
I looked at my friend for some sort of directions to get them to stop. He was looked from the screen to the hockey players and back again, and then looked at me. His face was as red as a tomato, as I'm sure mine was, too, and he looked like he was going to faint. He swallowed hard and whispered "I'm sorry," and before I could ask what for, he leaned in and kissed me on both cheeks and gave me a quick peck on the lips. The crowd went absolutely mad, roaring with pleasure and satisfaction, while I just stared at him. Once I heard the buzzer go off, signalling the start of the third period, I turned to face the rink again, but didn't pay much attention, instead reliving the short moment of warmth.
Once the game ended, Mattie stood up and said he was going to congratulate the Canadiens on winning. I followed behind slowly, laughing uneasily when they teased us for our short kiss. It seemed like the Senators weren't worked up at all over losing, instead playfully poking fun at how they would win next time. Matthew seemed truly happy around them, and they didn't mistake him for Alfred one single time, if they had ever met the American. We said "good-bye" and "au revoir" and stepped out into the frosty air. It was dark out and the street lamps were on, but it was still hard to see far due to the hard snowfall. My Canadian crush and I walked in awkward silence for a while until he cleared his throat.
"I…I really am sorry…..I didn't know how else to stop their chanting and get them to continue the game…" he whispered.
I stopped under a light and looked down, hands at my sides. "You don't need to apologise, Mattie…"
He wouldn't have it. "But we could've figured something out or just waited them out! It wouldn't have been near as awkward and -" he was cut off when I hooked my hand in the neck of his jacket and pulled his head down, smashing his lips into mine. He was taken completely off guard, but melted into the kiss after a few seconds. It was passionate, yet gentle and warm – all I had imagined it to be. Too soon the pesky need for air separated us.
"Do you hear me complaining?" I murmured, wrapping my hands around his waist and resting my head on his chest.
He chuckled. "No, I suppose not…"
We stood there like that for some time, enjoying the moment and each others' presence.
"…_...?" Matthew asked hesitantly, breaking the stillness.
"Yes?" I replied.
He pulled back and his violet eyes stared into my (e/c) ones seriously. "…Je t'aime…"
I smiled back up at him. "Je t'aime, trop, Mattie."
My birthday wish came true.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Translations (all in French, possibly not correct, as I don't know French):
Père ~ Father
Bonjour ~ Hello
Monsieur ~ Mister
Ma chère ~ My dear
Pot-au-feu ~ Beef stew
Au revoir ~ Good bye
Je t'aime ~ I love you
Je t'aime, trop ~ I love you, too
For a contest on dA.
Also, I kind of "borrowed" the Kumajirou asking "Who?" thing from So He Doesn't Forget by Pirates VS Ninjas here on FF. I thought it was a really good idea so...please don't hurt me! T-T
