AN: For butterscotchmaple. Originally posted at tumblr (well-shit).
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Warning: Amecan, Human names.
Not AU (though kind of is AUish).
Summary: Let it never be said Alfred isn't caring. Or dumb. Or scared of his brother carrying a hockey stick. "Okay Al, get out."
"Okay Al, get out."
Let it never be said that Alfred F. Jones isn't scared witless of his brother carrying a hockey stick. Dropping the object he was holding he dives under the nearest surface available.
"Dude! What's with the axe murderer face?"
Let it also never be said that Alfred F. Jones isn't dumb. He prefers thinking he is brave though.
He hesitantly gets himself out from under the table after a moment of building up his courage while the other is still scanning the kitchen (possibly for further damage). Even if he is reluctant to get too close to a mad Matthew with one of his hockey gear posing as an instrument of very possible, very likely pain (especially when connected to the shins), he gently caress this body part at that, he also likes to think he's a hero.
And heroes don't hide under the table. Much.
Matthew doesn't give him much time to contemplate this though, as he is already waving the devil's weapon in his face. Oops.
"Alfred. I want you out of this kitchen. I don't care much for the things you attempt to do here, but I can't have the smoke alarm ringing when I'm trying to sleep!"
The older man selective hearing just catches what he wants, "That means you'll let me burn the kitchen during the day?", and attempts to hurry past his aggravated brother to get to the oven. It was already his 9th try that day and he wouldn't let his brother ruin all his work, he wouldn't fail this time.
Saying a prayer up and east to Francis he opens the oven.
"Shit." He barely hears the words from his brother as he's currently too busy trying to breath into the smoke surrounding him.
Strong arms (lumberjacking much Matthew?) wraps around his middle and he is out of the way of the smoke.
After Matthew dragged him to the corner, he stops coughing and wipes the stray tears out of the corner of his eyes. Damn it. He wanted to weep. Another attempted, failed.
A cup of water is trusted in his face as a hand gently lifts his chin. He hadn't even noticed the other letting go of him. Violet eyes looking concerned, he takes the drink from his brother's hand, the clear liquid a blessing to his dry throat.
A moment passes with Alfred drinking and Matthew assessing the damage to the kitchen, the later is sighing before he can help himself.
"Alfred."
"Hum?" He is afraid to look, but does so reluctantly.
"What are you doing?" Matthew seems genuinely curious, what could edge his brother on enough to spend the whole day trying (and failing) to do something (unidentified) in the kitchen?
Not that Alfred blames him, he refused to answer it in the times the other asked, but now, he is simply tired. Exhausted, even.
"I… was trying to bake you a cake Matt." And then lower he mumbles, "For valentines."
Matthew apparently hears the last part for he looks surprised. Staring at him as though he'd never seen him before, wait that's wrong, as if he never thought he'd do something like that.
He kind of resents that, but before he can say anything the other's face transforms, a twitch in the lips forming a small smile and a gentle gaze softening his eyes, he steps closer and arms are circling Alfred, who squeaks.
"I'm glad," He whispers in the older brother's ear and Alfred leans closer, "but you should just have told me." He slaps his ass then and Alfred jumps. Who knew Matthew was like that? (Well, he did, but never mind).
He grumbles, "I wanted to surprise you," he leans back, "to prove you-"he stops himself then, the other was laughing. Laughing. He didn't know either to be offended or happy by making his brother smile. After all those times he ignored him, he wished to show he cared and loved the other too.
"Al," Matthew manages between his chuckles, "I love you too, but please, spare my kitchen next time."
He leans forward and pecks his brother lightly on the lips. Alfred is stunned and well, happy. But still surprised, reaching out to grab the other for more, he almost succeeds but Matthew leaves his embrace then. And he is left wanting with a pout.
The other is walking further into the kitchen when he turns and making a 'come hither' gesture with his finger and a joyous laugh he says:
"Come on Al, we have a cake to bake!"
Feeling giddy and complacent Alfred follows his brother.
That was the best cake ever; He concludes later, smearing cream atop Matthew and licking it off his body and then his own fingers.
They should bake more.