Author's Notes: This shortfic is dedicated to Eva Kasumi, because it's her BIRTHDAY (let's all shout "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" and shower her in confetti now, 'kay?) and she's just awesome. She wanted MatthewGuy fluff/humor, and MatthewGuy fluff/humor she shall get! And by that, I mean she will receive this bundle of AU crack, because that seems to be my specialty lately.

So anyway, Happy Birthday Eva, I hope it was a great one! You're beyond awesome and I swear I'm going to write you more fanfics at some point. Also, I really don't know where this came from. It just wrote itself. But it's MatthewGuy, so, yay?

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

Dedication: Eva Kasumi, because (again) it's her birthday and she's beyond awesome for putting up with my nonsensical fanfiction ramblings and for fangirling Doctor Who with me. Eva, I swear, I'm so going to tackleglomp you.

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Silver Screen

By Amethyst Bubble

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Guy hated Matthew. No, really, he did. The butterflies in his stomach? Those were butterflies of pure hatred. They were butterflies of disgust and anger and resentment and--

"Enjoying the movie?" Matthew reached over him and grabbed a handful of popcorn, his hand brushing against Guy's as he did so.

Guy just about melted into a puddle of goo right then and there.

…Goo of pure hatred, though. Yeah, goo of pure hatred. Goo to match the damn butterflies that were keeping him from eating the popcorn himself. Matthew gave him a curious look as the dark-haired boy ground his teeth together. Instead of asking questions, however, Matthew settled for simply stealing another fistful of popcorn.

Finally realizing that he was expected to answer that question, Guy tried to regain the ability to form sentences. "Err," he began. Oh, yeah, his mind sneered, "err"-- that's the perfect answer. I'm sure he's just been swept off his feet by your suaveness, tiger. "Yeah, it--it's pretty good," he finally said, glancing at the screen for the first time since the movie began.

Now, what was the film about again? On the silver screen, two figures whirled about in a beautifully choreographed fight scene. One advanced, sword drawn and a murderous glint in her eye. The other took a step back, his own weapon held out defensively.

It wasn't a bad scene, but it didn't tell him anything about the movie, other than the fact that there were people with swords in it. He took a sip of his soda, attempting to drown the butterflies (of hatred, mind you, burning, relentless hatred). He stared at the screen and tried to ignore the fact that Matthew's arm was very close to his own.

"Why did you do it?" her face contorted with rage. She shook her head, scattering the flakes of snow that had landed in her dark hair. "We were happy!" she screamed. "He loved me!"

"Yes, he did," the man nodded, his expression cold. "But he loves me more."

Guy promptly spit out his soda. The woman sitting in front of him was less than amused, though Matthew seemed to find it hysterical.

"What!" he managed to hiss to Matthew as soon as the scary woman had stopped glaring at him and making rude hand gestures. "I--I mean, did she just… did he… is there… Matthew, did you take me to see a--a gay romance movie?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was in it for the fight scenes?" Matthew smiled ever so innocently.

"No," Guy said flatly. He attempted to look threatening. The sinking feeling he got told him it wasn't working.

Matthew's innocent smile never wavered. "Okay then," he said, stealing yet more popcorn and switching his attention to the screen.

"Okay then?" Guy repeated, gaping. He leaned towards Matthew, butterflies oddly still for the moment. "What kind of answer is that? Th-- That doesn't mean anything!"

"On the contrary," Matthew said, his voice so calm that Guy had the overwhelming urge to punch him. "It means that I did indeed take you to see a gay romance movie. One with fight scenes, though, so shush. Some of us are trying to watch."

Guy sat back and fumed, crossing his arms over his chest and mentally cursing Matthew in as many ways as he could. That jerk! That bastard! That sunnuva-- whooaaaa, had that been a kiss scene?

"Why'd you say that?" he said breathlessly, his light brown hair falling into his eyes. "She knows and you can't take it back--!" he broke off with a stifled sob, biting down on the back of his hand. "You're stupid, you know that?" he said harshly.

"I'm an idiot," the other man willingly agreed, reaching out to tug the shorter man's hand away from his teeth. "Don't do that."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters…" he leaned in, closing the distance between the two.

Guy squirmed in his seat, face heating up as the two men on screen kissed again. There were a million thoughts running through Guy's head, some of the more notable going something like 'Holy crap, they're kissing!', or 'That bastard took me to see a gay movie!', and 'Oh, hell, does he know!'

He snuck a glance at Matthew out of the corner of his eye, infuriated to find that the older man seemed perfectly calm. (He was also slightly annoyed to find yet more of his popcorn in the fiend's clutches.)

For a second, Matthew's gaze met his and he smirked. Guy bristled, fairly sure that if he had been a cat all his fur would have been standing on end. Fine! He said to himself, Two can play that game!

He took a moment to realize exactly how cliché that sounded. Well, at least he hadn't said it out loud.

Twenty minutes passed and Guy's plan was going excellently. He hadn't even squeaked once, he was proud to report. He was feeling just a little bit smug, even.

That was, until the movie started to heat up, in a manner of speaking.

It took Guy only a moment to realize exactly what was going on, but once he did his face paled then took on a slightly green tinge. After that he turned gradually redder and redder.

"Guy, your face looks like a bag of skittles," Matthew snickered.

"Shut-- shut up!" Guy squawked, twisting his hands together. "M--Matthew, what's this movie r--r--rated!"

"R, apparently," his voice dripped with what Guy could only describe as evil taunting of evilness. "Never seen an R rated movie before?"

Guy scowled and placed his hands over the lid of his bucket of popcorn. "No more f--for you!" he growled.

"I'm going to take that as a no," Matthew smirked.

They didn't talk much after that, much to the disappointment of the slash fans sitting behind them. (Said slash fans had been debating whether or not the two were a couple for a while now and had come to the conclusion that, yes, insert squeal here, they definitely were interested in each other. The one with the braid was so cute in his denial.)

The movie was in the middle of another "sweet" scene. Guy couldn't decide whether to roll his eyes or turn fire truck red again, so he settled for a combination. Then, all of a sudden, it rapidly turned itself into an action scene with swords and thunderclouds and soldiers and… was that a dragon! Guy jumped slightly as what he could only identify as a "giant lizard thing" roared and breathed fire. He latched onto Matthew's arm, staring wide-eyed at the screen as the scene unfolded.

They lay together in the blood-stained snow, laughing as tears streamed down their faces. Slowly, they reached over and took each other's hands…

At that moment, Guy realized exactly whose arm he was clinging to. He jumped back as if Matthew was contagious, pointedly ignoring the chorus of "awwww…" that erupted from the row behind them.

"I, uh, I th-thought you were the armrest…" Guy muttered, glancing away and trying not to turn red all over again. Dammit, did his hormones have to do a conga line every time he so much as brushed against Matthew? Stupid, stupid hormones!

"Sure, I'm mistaken for one of those all the time," Matthew replied airily. Guy snuck a look at him out of the corner of his eye. Even in the darkened theatre he could tell that Matthew's grin was positively predatory.

"I hate you," Guy muttered. A chorus of voices from behind him cooed something softly. He huffed then yelped when Matthew pulled on his hair.

The butterflies had joined up with his hormones and started square dancing. If it had been at all possible for Guy to glare at them, he would have. He probably would've shouted too. Not that that would have stopped them or anything.

The rest of the movie passed without much incident, save for Guy glaring at Matthew every other moment and the fact that the butterflies in his stomach were apparently trying to learn the foxtrot. (They were still butterflies of hatred, though. Not butterflies of love or anything mushy like that. Butterflies of hatred!)

The ending theme blared as the credits rolled past and the theatre's lights flickered on. Matthew swallowed the rest of Guy's popcorn and grinned.

"So, what did you think?" he asked, getting up and stretching.

I think you took me to see an R-rated movie with guys having s-s-se-- doing STUFF in it and what the hell is that supposed to MEAN! Guy felt about ready to tear his hair out. He stood up as calmly as he could, determined not to scream all that out loud.

They walked out of the theatre, Matthew smirking at the comments he overheard from the row behind him.

("Oh, man. They were better than the movie!"

"I know! I would've paid ten bucks just to watch them for ninety minutes."

"Hey, you think they'd let us do that?")

"You never answered my question," he said as they left the theatre, stepping out into the brightly lit hall as the crowd filed past them. "What'd you think of the movie?"

"It… uh… it was interesting?" Guy said, fidgeting. What does it mean what does it mean what does it mean!

"What part?" Matthew smirked, reaching out to tug on Guy's hair.

Some part of Guy said aw, screw it, he has it coming… and before he was sure what he was doing he had crushed his lips against Matthew's in a clumsy kiss. The hallway, now empty as the rest of the moviegoers had filed down either the escalator or the stairs, was frighteningly silent as Guy pulled back, just slightly dazed.

"That part," he said.

Matthew blinked once, twice, and then licked his lips. The small movement seemed to snap Guy back to reality. The smaller boy jumped back with something Matthew could only describe as a squeak. He watched with amusement as Guy all but flew to the nearest wall and began banging his head against it.

With a barely repressed snicker, Matthew sauntered up to the wall and leaned against it. Guy, attempting to either A) put a rather large dent in the wall, or B) knock himself out, took no notice. That is, until Matthew spoke.

"Yeah," he began with a roguish grin. "That part was pretty interesting, wasn't it?"

Guy froze mid-head bang and looked up at Matthew with wide eyes.

"If you put a hole in that wall, they're going to make you pay for it." Matthew pointed out.

Slowly, looking very much like an animal caught in the headlights, Guy backed away from the wall. Matthew gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder that definitely did not put Guy at ease and walked off towards the escalator. After a moment, Guy followed cautiously.

"You want to see another movie next weekend?" Matthew asked, glancing at Guy.

"Okay?" Guy replied warily, more than a little nervous over the fact that Matthew hadn't mentioned the, well, kiss. Guy turned pink again and mentally beat himself over the head. Stupid, stupid, stupid--!

"Good," Matthew nodded. "You don't mind if I pick the movie again, do you?"

"Have I got in a say in the matter at all?" Guy asked suspiciously.

Matthew flashed him a grin reminiscent of the cat who got the canary. "See, there's this movie about cowboys…"

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Silver Screen-- End

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…And so Guy learned to avoid going to the movies with Matthew. Not that it did him any good, 'cause Matthew dragged him out anyway, whether Guy liked it or not.

In case it was confusing, some of the italics are my sorry excuse for a movie (that is totally not going to become an original fantasy idea, it's really not, nope, nothing doing, I should give those characters names…) and most of the rest are Guy's thoughts. And, oh man, I'm still trying to get back into writing MatthewGuy, 'cause I neglected them for so long. They're so much fun to write, though, and I hope the fic was an enjoyable read.

Credit goes to Eva Kasumi for the "Guy, your face looks like a bag of skittles" line, because it was too good not to use.