'Lions Make You Brave'
"Stop bouncing, Alfred!" Matthew hissed between his teeth, though he knew it would do no good. "You're making people stare." Matthew rubbed at his temples, fighting down the tossing in his stomach that rose with every tug the floor gave as the boat puttered it's way on. Matthew loathed boats. Airplanes he could handle, but not boats.
Alfred glanced sideways at the almost identical blonde, sarcastic grin twisting his lips. "I'm not making them do anything Mattie. I'm not God." He argued but ceased his bouncing anyway, shifting instead into a slow side-to-side sway. Matthew didn't bother with glaring at him. It would do no good, Alfred would always be obnoxious. And obstinate. Loud, persistent, he never let Matthew finish a sentence. He snoring was heinous, and he was so damn cocky and why the hell was he traveling with this guy again?
"Mattie! Mattie, I see it! I see England!" Convenience, he supposed. Or maybe it was for the entertainment. And exasperated sigh fell from his lips at his 'brother's' antics, shattering on the shifting and swaying floor of the boat, unheard. He raised his tired violet eyes and there, he could see it too. On the horizon, only just visible through the restless gray waves of salty sea if you squinted. Matthew lurched, his stomach along with him as Alfred threw an arm around his neck, pulling him close.
"We made it Matt, we made it to England! We're gonna have a part in this war yet." He whooped, pumping his fist through the chilled air. Matthew couldn't help himself from the smile small that crept up his lips, meeting his companions bright-eyed grin head on. Yes, they had made it.