There are a handful of ways The Awesome Gilbert likes being woken up. Several of them involve Matthew. However, a panicking, wild-purple-eyed, on-the-edge-of-hysteria Matthew is not one of these ways. "Birdie, deep breath, slow down. Now what?"
"Gilbert, IwokeupandtriedtomakesomepancakesbutwhenIreachedfo rthemaplesyrupitwasn'ttheresopleeeaaasetellmewhere youhiditbecauseIknowitwasyou,itmustbe,"Matthew breathes out all at once. The tiny Canadian is currently sitting on Gilbert, and if it had been any other time the former nation of Prussia would have had to change that situation, very quickly. However, right now Gilbert is thinking of any possible place the maple syrup could be, coming up blank, while his Matti stares at him with those wide, wide eyes, that one curl that refuses to behave hanging in front of his nose.
"Mattie, you ran out of maple last night, rememer? You made hot chocolate and insisted it needed maple syrup in it. Which, I'll admit, was pretty delicious, but you ran out. Matthew? Mattie?...Birdie?" Gilbert says after a while,noting the increasingly pale complexion creeping up on Matthew's face. "Matthew, you ok?"
Suddenly, a small Canadian goes goes flying off of a bed, out the room, slides down the hall, and skids around the corner to the one cabinet in the house No One, Under Any Circumstance, Is To Touch. Under Pain Of Death. Even You, Gilbert.
This is the Syrup Cabinet, Matthew Williams' pride and joy, and most closely guarded treasure.
Gilbert, follow Matthew to the Syrup Closet. You may go slower than the Canadian, but you must get there in a timely manner, I don't care how tired you are. I said so, move your 'awesome' tail and go, or I shall steal all of your beer. There you go.
In the thirty seconds it took for the author to yell at a character, Matthew has sunk in front of his beloved cabinent, staring at empty shelves with a horror-struck expression. It's as heartbreaking a look as the one Alfred had when he was told Twinkies weren't going to be made anymore. Sadly, there still aren't any more Twinkies, and Matthew is still out of maple syrup ENTIRELY for the first time in living memory.
THIS. IS. ANARCHY!
Nope.
"Gil...we're out of maple." "No way, you always have at least half a litre on hand at all times. Like, seriously, liebling, that doesn't happen. Maybe another section of the kitchen or..."Gilbert trails off, pulling Matthew to his feet and looking into the back of the top shelf, hoping that maybe there will be even an ounce at the back of the cabinet. But no, there is absolutely no maple syrup in that cabinet.
Because the author that mean, yes she is.
"Matthew, Matthew, Mattie, my little pancake, liebling, it's ok, we can run out to the supermarket and buy some maple syrup in the space of fifteen minutes. Just run and grab some shoes, I'll grab some acceptable clothes, and we can go!" This does nothing to get a traumatized Canadian moving, so Gilbert runs, throws a blanket around Matthew (who has somehow returned to the floor), yanks on an assortment of clothes discarded on the floor yesterday, snatches his wallet, then sprints the mile-and-a-half to the grocery store.
Fifteen minutes. That's how long it takes for him to get back to Matthew's house with a quart of pure Canadian grade A medium amber maple syrup. The good stuff. Thick and delicious, food for Matthew's soul. The house, unfortunately, is almost terrifying. Kumajiro and Gilbird are huddled together in a corner, silent with huge eyes. Furniture is meticulously organized, everything cleaned to a sparkle, and Matthew's favorite hockey stick is suspiciously missing from its' spot.
"Birdie?"
Matthew comes creeping around the corner, scarier that 2p!Italy. Wait, what's 2p!Italy? Nevermind! Anyway, the Canadian personification comes slowly closer, sniffing the air. "Where's the syrup, Gilbert? Do you have it?" he queries in a little-kid voice, sounding almost like Russia.
"Mattie, here's the syrup. Right here. Come on, let's make pancakes. Please? You're scaring me." Matthew blinks twice, then rushes forward to snatch the bag of syrup from Gilbert's hands and slink off to the kitchen to make pancakes. Gilbert then proceeds to fall to the rug below him and curl up into a ball until Matthew fetches him for breakfast, where he proceeds to fuss over the fact Prussia was on the floor.
When Gilbert told this story to Elizaveta a week later at the world meeting, she giggled and said that she was so going to retell that story at the wedding. Gilbert told her to shut up, Matthew doesn't know yet, Alfred hadn't even been told they were dating yet.
Yay! First upload! Heh heh heh! Review, please? Sorry if either of them are a little OOC, it's how I imagine their relationship. Back to your knitting!