Author's Notes: It seems I can only write crack (for me) nowadays.
Bound
The box was artfully wrapped, satin ribbon and colourful paper carefully arranged to please the eye. The inside was no less masterful, tissue soft, tasteful design covering a beautiful coat. The coat itself was a soft brown one, animal fur covering the edge of the hood and bone made buttons shinning under the light. The stitches were small, careful, and anyone who looked would believe they were hand made, thread so fine at times and then thick to guard against the bitter cold, it was truly the work of master.
The gift was deeply appreciated, the obvious care with which the garb had been made clear. But it was that care which made him hesitant to accept it, for surely there were more worthy recipient than he. So finely craft, so obviously expensive, it sent the hair on edge only to thick of wearing it. Surely it was meant for someone else. Surely, the other had meant to give it to another.
"Do you not like it?" The other's forest green eyes grew dark, a hand already picking the garment up to return it to the box before he touched him gently.
"I... I like it very much." And the other smiled such a shy, brilliant smile that he felt his cheek grow warm, pulse quickening. "Would... would you like something to eat?" A distraction would be nice, a chance to hide his embarrassment, but the other man shock his head and drank from his cup, the light in his eyes never vanishing. He felt the pressure in his chest increase, wild thoughts running in his mind, eyes locked on the figure before him.
The gifts, the visits, the conversations, all of them served little purpose but to set him on edge, his rebellious heart wanting more, the french in him wishing for the forbidden. He had seen him looking, as he had seen others, covert glances hidden quickly by mockery. But his mind always remained him that it was not him, it was simply him filling a void while he returned to his rightful place, leaving him forgotten, alone.
"Matthew... I..." Arthur's voice broke the enchantment, the nation fidgeting in his chair uncomfortably. "I... wanted to..."
"Is there something wrong?" Why was the other hesitating? He had never found trouble to speak with him before, voice strong, even after he let them go, pride and strength never failing even under threat of death.
"No... of course there is nothing wrong. I..." Canada was sure his heart was trying to escape from his breast, vaguely wondering if the other could hear it across the table. "I... I lo-love you..."
"I... I..." Joy and distrust were battling in his mind, the want to simple accept almost overpowering. But doubt, poisonous whispers that made his blood run cold stopped him, words spilling before he could stop himself. "I'm... I'm not him... I'm not Alfred! Why? Why are you saying this to me?!"
"Alfred? What does he had to do with this?" His face a mask of perplexity, the British nation stared at him incompressible, making the Canadian's confusion grew. "Matthew..."
"Because you are confusing me again with him!" There was no other explanation, there was no way he felt that way for Canada, the one who was ignored, walked all over, instead of USA. Bright, powerful Alfred, who the whole world followed, however begrudgingly, who no-one was able to ignore. "You are in love with him!"
The was a stunned silence, during which Canada wanted to curl down and hide under his bed until the end of the world. The British nation had stood up, shaking like a leaf as he tried to rein in his temper, Canada shivering himself because for a moment he looked so much like his past self, like his pirate captain self... "But... but I don't love Alfred! I love you!"
"How? How... can I believe that?" Canada stared at the bright wrapping paper, refusing to met the other's eyes as bitterness clung to his voice. "How do you expect me to believe that? It has been always Alfred who held your attention. You only noticed me after the war because things hadn't worked with him! I won't... I won't be his replacement!"
"...I see." He said at length, picking his jacket and shuddering it on, eyes hard, closed expression as he left, not even glancing backwards.
"You are an idiot." Kumajirou declared and left the room, a crying Canada clutching the forgotten coat like a lifeline.
The wine tasted sour in his mouth, other hand still clutching the coat while the Netherlands mulled over what he had heard while drinking his brandewijn. Radboud had became the Canadian's confident after WWII, the taller male never confusing him with Alfred, open minded and accepting towards issues that Canada didn't felt comfortable discussing with France. The dutch found the kid polite, intelligent and with good taste in drink and food, so they generally got along well with each other.
"You are an idiot." Which made the final verdict all the more bitting to Matthew as he hunched over his wine glass. He was in good terms with the United Kingdom, not to the same level than his sister Belgium, but he had helped liberate his country, always a good thing in his books. So the stare he gifted Matthew was not only due to his friend tendency to be self deprecating.
"But... but why? I don't understand it... Why is he suddenly saying he loves me?" Large, purple eyes peered at him, bright as he held back the tears. Netherlands sighed, the Canadian male too sensitive for his own good when you added his passive habits. It tended to end with him exploding at the oddest times and places. Cuba was still weary of bringing horses as a subject when the three met at his home. "I..."
"Matthew, I now how you dislike being confused with Alfred, but don't you think you are being just as unfair?" Perplex expression, with a hint of anger graced him as the blond muttered under his breath. "Look, lately it seems Arthur can't breath without it being under the influence of USA, and it's probably driving him nuts. The man has issues, yes, but give him some credit."
"And before you say it, no, he was not suddenly noticed you because he fought with Alfred or whatever excuse you have made to yourself. The Revolution was two hundred years ago, deal with it. I don't see him sending your twin handmade gifts nor going out to drink evening tea. He doesn't go to USA's house whenever Scotland or France get to annoying. And you are probably the only nation who was never seen him either truly drunk or mad."
And it was true, Alfred's gifts were all store brought, India, New Zealand and Hong Kong were the only ones who sometimes joined the two in Arthur's parlor for the afternoon brew. And England hadn't gone to his twin house to relax for two centuries. He had also never seen the other man drunk, the British always careful to remain out of sight during his drinking dates with Prussia and Denmark, and he had never looked at him like he had glared at Alfred during the war. Usually a disappointed expression was enough to send the Canadian into a guilt feast, the blond tripping over himself as he apologized for anything and everything.
"Really, is it so hard to imagine that someone likes you like that?" Radboud pointed at the coat and Matthew hugged the fabric to himself. "Maybe the question is not wherever he loves you but if you can accept the fact someone loves you instead of Alfred."
Belgium had been surprisingly agreeable when he asked to learn how to make chocolates, knowing eyes following him as the female guided the nation around her kitchen. Norway had appeared one day to inform him in his usual deadpan that England wasn't at the island, but serving with the NATO in Iraq to aid in the Training Mission. Which lead him to stand in his army uniform, chocolate box in one hand, a bouquet of purple Hyacinths in the other, an unimpressed Arthur staring at him.
"I'm... I'm sorry about, I mean, I..." The British man didn't move from the table, a frozen soldier staring at him with his mouth open. "I... Arthur..."
"You will have to do better than that, Mr. Williams. After all, you made it quite clear that... my feelings... were not appreciated but a week ago." Canada gulped, the green eyed man had never call him by his last name. "Good day."
He left the same day, to embarrassed to remain in the base, later learning Arthur had returned to Europe soon after the incident, his public display causing the man no end of trouble among the officers.
His second attempt was no more successful, Australia helping him set up a double date with his boyfriend New Zealand. Arthur had been cold all evening, but never impolite to any off them, aloof attitude turning the whole affair into a very unpleasant affair. Australia had assured him he didn't blame him, but he found it hard to believe when the his boyfriend refused to speak to him for a week after the whole thing. The nation chose wisely to not get involved again, fearing the New Zealander wrath.
His third attempt included a dinner with all of Arthur's favourite dishes, Francis this time helping him lure the British to his house. England had took one look at the room, told him quite clearly were he could shove his fancy cooking and left, almost breaking the french front door in his way out. Francis and Matthew spent the rest of the evening getting smashed out of their minds, the french keeping his hands off the Canadian after a heated threat to his manhood.
Which left Canada wanting to give up and hide in a hole somewhere at the north pole, Alfred telling him that even if he wasn't a hero, as his brother he wasn't allowed to back out and Radboud commenting about how good that would look. Also, as the one managing the betting pool about wherever and how long it would take the two to kook up, it wouldn't be profitable for the Netherlands for him to just withdraw.
But with Matthew feeling desperate enough to try Feliks's serenade idea, the nations decided to step in, all wanting to win the rather generous amount of money Netherlands's pool had gathered. That Matthew looked vaguely like an Alfred–resembling kicked puppy thus creeping them out had nothing to do with it, nothing at all.
Matthew gulped as he approached the house silently, a Swiss rifle and a Italian machine gun trained to his back. A box, which carried among other things a porcelain Penguin, Chinese dumplings, Faerie Dust, a Egyptian Tarot Deck, a Hamburger, several kind of silks and a wooden carving in his arms, a bouquet of Radboud best red Tulips on top. Clad in a charcoal suit, he felt more like he was walking to his death than any other thing. England was sure to turn him away again, possibly with a bloody nose this time.
But unknown to him, Scotland turned to be a sorely needed alley in his quest. When he was figuring out how to ring the bell without dirtying the gift, a harried looking Arthur opened the door, shouting all the time to a older male inside the house. The nation didn't even stop, simply graved the box and trew it towards the scot head and dragged the Canadian away before the red head could react.
Arthur guided Matthew to a nearby park, the youth apologizing profusely when he caught sight of a displeased Austria on the way. Thankfully, Spain had yet to find his guitar after a bitter Venezuela trew it to the Pacific Ocean, so the nation couldn't start any impetu concert. The popcorn that Chile, Fiji and Iceland were sharing looked tasty though, as did the pocky that Greece held out to Nigeria.
"Either Francis planned this poor attempt of a prank or you were really desperate." USA had started chasing Mexico around, Cuba shouting after him angrily. They ended hiding behind China and Turkey when Ivan joined the hunt, pipe in the air, Belarus close with shinning eyes. "Since neither Ireland or Scotland are here I would say desperate."
"I'm sorry... I, it just, I mean..." His tongue felt numb, sweaty palms clutching his trouser as his heart beat so loud he was sure England could hear it, even with all the noise around them. "Arthur..."
"Matthew." A muffled protest was heard when a rock hit the microphone Japan was holding, the rest of the nations crying out in protest. "I understand. But if you ever say so much as imply the idea I will torch down your ports to show you how well I can tell the two of you apart."
The nations soon fled when the sound of sirens approached, an annoyed neighbour calling the cops due to the racket they were making. Canada laughed as he tugged England along, older nation protesting about the treatment furiously, but held strongly to Matthew's hand, forest green eyes shinning like a cat's as they fled into the night.
Unknown to them, the betting pool was won by a satisfied looking Estonia and Uruguay, India running as a close second. Netherlands and Prussia invited them a drink with the profits.
Author's Notes: Because seriously guys, can you imagine a former Empire chasing after another? A former pirate at that? I wouldn't be surprised if he kidnapped the one he fell in love with.