James is 2p Canada.

It was a cold, quiet morning. The sun streamed in through thin white curtains covering the window, sending dim rays of light across a plain blue comforter and into the face of one Matthew Williams. The young teen squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his blanket over his head, wishing he could just lay there for a little bit longer.

"Matt. Matt, get up. Come on, don't be a dick. Get up."

Matthew grimaced when the voice of his roommate cut through his warm blanket cocoon. "No," he grunted.

"Matt, you ass, get the fuck up. Morning patrol's gonna be here soon, and J's gonna be pissed if I show up without you."

Matthew groaned. "Don't wanna. 'M tired."

"The way I see it, ya got two options: you get the fuck up and come with us, or you get the fuck up and go to class. Which is it gonna be?"

The sleepy Canadian's blanket was violently ripped away from him, and he hissed when the surrounding cold air hit his body. "Fuck off Al," he said, glaring at the dark haired teen before him. The werewolf simply grinned his annoying grin, one dark gap where a tooth was missing.

Yup, werewolf. Allen had been one since he was a small child, and everyone in their circle of friends knew the truth after a certain incident the first year they met. It wasn't a big deal to any of them; he was just their friend that needed a night of alone time once a month and was sometimes fuzzy. He was the only one in their school, and Matthew often wondered if he felt like an outsider because of it.

Matthew sighed when he realized that Allen was right. He only had two options, and both included getting out of bed right then. He pushed himself into an upright position and swung his flannel-covered legs over the edge of his of his bed before stumbling to his dresser and removing a red sweatshirt emblazoned with a white maple leaf. He pulled it on over his bare chest and stepped out of his pajama bottoms, grabbing a pair of jeans from their place on the floor and slipping them on. It took him a minute to find a pair of socks, but he finally did, and finished off his outfit with a pair of muddy brown work boots. There wasn't enough time for him to run down to their floor's bathroom to brush his teeth, so he had to settle for popping in a stick of mint gum.

While Matthew was getting ready, Allen had simply sat on his own bed, swinging his red high top-clad feet idly and watching Matthew dress with a smirk. He was already dressed in his own sloppy clothes: a wrinkled black t-shirt and cutoff shorts that hit him mid-thigh. Matthew knew for a fact that he had stolen them from one of his many girlfriends.

When the other boy was finished getting dressed, Allen slid off his bed and slipped open their single bedroom window. He swung a leg out and ducked beneath the pane, reaching for the tree branch that was just close enough for him to reach. Grabbing hold of it, he swung his other leg out and jumped off the window sill, wrapping his legs around the thick branch. He shuffled around until he was no longer upside down and in a sitting position. He moved away from the window, giving Matthew the room to do the same. The two boys shimmied down the tree, and sighed in relief when their feet touched solid ground. Even after sneaking out of the building at least three times a week for the last two school years, neither boy had been cured of their fear of heights.

Now that they were safely out of the school, they just had to make it off of the grounds. That was the hard part. They had to make it to the hole in the fence behind the equipment shed while avoiding all the teachers patrolling. They switched up their route every day, so as to keep suspicion off any one area. Today they decided on the direct route, meaning they would wait for Ms. Simmons to pass by the row of hedges surrounding the dormitories, jump over them, and make a break for the shrubbery around the fences.

After doing that, they slipped through the bushes and into the small hole in the chain-link fence. And then they were free.
They headed into the woods behind the school, and
walked for about 15 minutes before they reached their final destination: a crumbling shed with two small windows, their broken panes covered by trash bags, and a thick wooden door with a moving slat at eye level. Or it would be at eye level once the 13 year olds grew a bit.
Allen knocked and, after a moment, the slat slid open to reveal wide blue eyes.

"Who is it?" a cheery, British-accented voice asked.

"Al and Matt. Open up sugar, it's colder 'n a witch's tit out here," Allen whined, rubbing his arms exaggeratedly.
There was a click as the door was unlocked and it swung open to reveal their older friend Oliver. His smile was bright, but his eyes held a trace of annoyance. "Allen," the red head said sweetly. "What have I told you about those little pet names of yours?"

Allen pushed past him, kissing him on the cheek and snickering. "That you love being called sugar 'cause you're sweet as can be, baby. Come on doll, ya know ya love me. I mean, you haven't dumped me yet." He took Oliver's hand and pulled him into the room, leaving Matthew to lock the door behind him. Allen plopped down in the middle of the floor, taking the redhead with him, and started tickling him.

Matthew greeted Alfred, who was lying face up on the floor tossing a hacky sack into the air and catching it, and James, who was reading another one of his teen lit romance novels on the grungy green couch against the wall. Arthur called an absentminded hello in the Canadian's direction, focused on his nearly finished needlepoint. After a moment of watching Oliver nearly kick Allen in the face while being tickled, Matthew grabbed his worn copy of volume 46 of Naruto and sat down in the red bean bag chair in the corner to read it.

AN: Alfred and Matthew are half brothers, and Arthur and Oliver are fraternal twins. Allen and James aren't related to anybody. Allen and Oliver are in an open relationship, hence the many girlfriends (honestly he just steals their clothes). Alfred, Matthew, Allen, and James are 13, and Arthur and Oliver are 14.