Warnings: Drinking, implied twerking, and bad come-ons


Matthew popped in a movie, hoping to keep the 'children' busy while he cleaned up from lunch.

'So much for the cook doesn't clean'

By the opening scene, there was a bit of conversation starting up in the living room. A good sign

It was mostly basic information:

Where ya' from? Milwaukee; Potsdam.

Work? This and that; Building the most badass shit known to man.

Sports? Baseball; Ha! Seriously?!

Beer? Coors; That piss-

And the Canadian interjected there with a bowl of popcorn to split. There were some things that need not be debated in the presence of breakables. Beer being one of them.

The distraction was a success and after a moment he deemed it safe enough exit the room to shower and change.

As an afterthought, he took the time to drop a five into a jar on the kitchen table nearly bursting with various types of bills. Chicken scratch penmanship labeled the container as 'Matthew's Tease Jar'. Said man had kept count, knowing there was just around seventy-three…no…seventy-eight dollars in there now.

And Gilbert had just emptied it at the end of April.

Had been on a roll in May.

June was turning out to be promising for the albino's wallet as well…though not for his libido.

By the time the characters on T.V had found an abandoned truck full of Snowballs rather than Twinkies, the two on the couch were intently swapping their own zombie apocalypse survival secrets and Matthew had managed to slip out the front door undetected.

He had things to do and his brother had come unexpectedly. How did he even know my address?

Alfred would be here for a while anyway. Why…just why?

Plus, he was probably tired from his flight from Beijing. What the hell was he doing there anyway?!

The further he got from the apartment, the less he believed his own excuses for why it was okay to leave and wanted to go back to properly host his brother.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), he was pulling out the keys to his personal little hole in the wall just before the guilt could get too heavy.

Plus, he didn't want to give into that itch in the back of his mind telling him he was an idiot for trusting his home to those two.

It's not like they weren't adults.


"Maaaattttttttt….I'm boreeeed!" Alfred whined as the credits rolled on the third movie, Paranormal something or other. He hadn't really paid attention.

Gilbert's eyes cracked open as he tried to sleepily glare at the noisy man from the couch. The blond had only just stopped screaming in fear long enough for him to drift off.

"Matt?" He tried again, turning around to try to locate his brother.

Still no answer.

"Dude, this ain't funny." Matthew's bedroom door was left open and there was no sight of him anywhere.

Gilbert sat up, looking around too. "Did he leave?"

"Door is right there, we would have seen him go, right?"

The two shared a look before glancing at the television. Nervous laughter filled the empty air.

They were grown men and totally not freaked out.


Matthew sneezed as he put some imports on ice. He wrinkled his nose as the feeling lingered.

"Gezondheid" Lars interjected as he replaced some old wires. "Someone's talking about you."

The Canadian's laugh was genuine until it tapered off into a more anxious sound. "Let's hope not."

The Dutchman shot a questioning look, but never got an answer as Matthew's phone began to serenade him with polytones.

"Hello?" Within seconds, the phone was pulled as far away from his face as possible.

"Al…Al….ALFRED! I'm not dead. I answered the phone…No, I'm not being held at gunpoint...No, that is not what they want me to say…Gilbert knew I had to go into work...He said I was what…Al, breathe please…No, I don't need the distractions here…Yes, I do mean you."

There were a few more exchanges before the Canadian made up the excuse of his boss needing him and ended the conversation.

It took a full five seconds before Lars realized he really didn't want to know.

Matthew just rested his head on the bar and took deep breaths.

They are adults. It'll be okay.


"Yo, Gilbert, can you substitute baking soda for flour?"

"Umm….yes?" Gilbert said in a completely unsure tone. Matthew usually cooked when it came to building from scratch. He could make a mean Konigsberger klopse, but baking was a new dimension.

Alfred shrugged and tossed his ingredients together into a large mixing bowl. He had a hankering for some cake and he didn't know any good local bakeries. The nearest one that Gilbert suggested was over ten miles away anyway. Too far, plus building his own would be all the sweeter, right? Thus he had gotten Gilbert's blessing to create his own.

Not that the German really gave a damn, he just wanted to stay on the couch and continue to nurse a beer he had swiped from the fridge. Alfred had looked at his odd at first, but conceded after the German explained his reasoning. Best way to treat a bad hangover. Hair of the dog.

Copious amounts of red food coloring mixed with a clumsy hand had created a small problem as Kuma now looked as though he had savagely killed a small creature.

"Oops!" Alfred exclaimed as more of the mixture fell to the floor. Inconspicuously, he nudged the puppy over to the mess, grinning when it was all licked up.

Who needed mops when you had pets?


Matthew lounged against the bar waiting for his test subject to stop being such a little bitch and drink it.

Being the said test subject, Lars just glared and the ugly blue-green creation. Matthew had finished setting up most everything far too early and had started experimenting. However, this time…

"And it's called-"

"Dirty Bong Water. Now drink." Matthew pressed.

Lars wanted to turn it down, too many memories associated with the name, but at the same time, he had eagerly volunteered to test all drink concoctions on day one.

'Hier gaat niets….'


"Oh God! I think it's alive!"

"Scheiße! Was ist das?!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"


Doing on last once over, Matthew deemed the place ready for the night. He checked the last set of hoses before taking a seat to enjoy a small break since they still had an hour before open.

Lars joined him shortly after, sipping on his second drink.

Matthew raised a brow.

"Shut up" The Dutchman commanded.

"Didn't say a word." He smirked, ignoring the glare he received. "But if I did, I would say you like it."

"You still need to change the name."

"Not happening."


Alfred and Gilbert sat in the center of the kitchen. All around them were pieces of red and black. Kuma was having a field day, eating every reachable bit of splattered food. His natural color was almost completely covered by the dye that turned him pink. Gilbird fluttered around in alarm as a thin layer of smoke caused the fire alarm to scream at the occupants.

Neither of the men moved for a long while.

"It grew so fast. It was like…like…" Alfred stuttered with a haunted look on his face.

"Die Augen! It looked into my soul." Gilbert was no better off, however, his hair fared no better than the puppy, diminishing the effect.

A few moments of heavy breathing was broken when the two decided to get off the floor. Gilbert cleared his throat and went to grab a chair and turn off the smoke alarm.

Alfred went for the windows. Both of them flinched as Kuma ran and slid into the cabinets.

"Take-out?" Gilbert suggested?

"Yup." Alfred agreed as soon as the syllable was spoken. He jumped over to the coffee table to retrieve his phone while Gilbert went to put on proper clothing.


The witching hour came with a bang as Lars dropped the beat on the throngs of people grinding around him. It was a good night. Finals had just finished and every student legal (and some not so much) had apparently made it their goal to drink away everything they had learned that semester.

With the way the crowd was acting, it was working.

Poor Matthew was working up a sweat keeping everyone happy. A party of twelve attending a twenty-first as well as a large group joining in on the last night of their friend's legal debauchery (if the bridesmaid sashes were anything to go by) were just a drop in the bucket. Without looking, Matthew knew his associate was grinning at him.

After all, Matthew was the one who denied the fact that an extra hand around the bar won't kill you, man. Right. However, the fact that he suggested hiring his sister, fresh off the boat and straight from Ghent University, was a little disturbing. He'd heard stories of this fabled sister, but if she was anything like her brother…

…Who was currently swaying for questionable reasons…

...but then again, he could use the help…badly.

He had little time to think on the subject as a familiar face appeared.

"Privet."

"Umm…Yea. Hey Ivan." He paused, about to use a typical line when someone came to the bar. "Vodka?" His tone was only slightly questioning.

"Nyet." Well that was new.

Matthew let out a small sound that sounded like a mix of 'oh' and 'please don't kill me'.

Rather than letting the Canadian escape to his work, Ivan dropped a question. "I hear you have a brother who is visiting now. This is very true, da?"

The blond felt a shot of ice go through him. "What are-…" He choked on the question. The Russian had a look that dared him to disagree. "A-are you sure you don't want that drink?" The question was pressed out in desperation to change the subject.

This only caused a lop-sided grin from the other man. "Da, I think I will." Eyes followed Matthew through every motion as unsteady hands poured the clear liquid.

Matthew was internally cursing his brother in two different languages. Actually. Make that three. Lars had taught him a few choice words. He had spent many years trying to fall far off the Russian's radar after that tryst with Katyusha.

And what happens when he figured he was finally in the clear? Alfred…did something?

Wait. Why did Ivan know? More so, why did he care?

The Russian man smiled behind his glass as he observed Matthew as he struggled with a line of thought, almost positive he knew exactly where the Canadian's mind was caught. He had to hand it to the bartender for holding his tongue instead of actually asking.

"Matvey," The blond shuddered at the translation of his name "you are smart, da? So very smart." Here the Russian gentle put the glass down and leaned forward to be heard clearly. "I like the smart ones."

Matthew stood stalk still as Ivan pulled back, a childish grim plastered on his face. "Ah! Look at that!" Ivan pointed off onto the dance floor.

Matthew ignored whatever it was in favor of damning his brother to the deepest ring of hell.

Somewhere on the edges of his conscience, he could hear Lars shouting out.

"No twerking on the speakers! Feet on the floor!"


"Oi! Franny! Toni! Over here!" Gilbert waved enthusiastically from his booth at the two who had just entered the bar.

"What happened to your hair amigo? It's pink!" Antonio pointed out immediately, only to be hissed at by the albino.

"Gilbert! It has been too long, oui? We should…" The blond Frenchman trailed off noticing the person beside his friend. "Oh Matthew! Tu as un fesses fermes.." He slid in beside his target, hand falling to the mentioned area "comme toujo-AHHHH" Francis was unable to finish his pickup as a sharp pain struck through his body starting where a rough grip had bent back his wrist.

"I dunno what you're playing at here, buddy." Alfred spat with venom.

Across the table, Gilbert was doubled over, head falling against the polished wood. Beside him, a wide-eyed Spaniard slipped in.

"That's…h-h-his b-b-bruder." The German managed to gasp out before falling over as a new round of squeals came from the Frenchman.

"Ay?! Our Canadian chico has a brother?!" Antonio asked with a tilt of his head.

Alfred huffed indignantly as he got the same reaction as he did with Gilbert. Was Matt ashamed of him or something? It wasn't like they were fighting.

Anymore…

Francis, having pulled his hand away, began to mumble about heathens and sweet Canadian's. "You could have said something sooner." He pouted. "And to think I kept last night quiet."

Gilbert immediately straightened, somber. "You know what happened?!"

A predatory grin flashed over Francis face. "Oui." And added before the albino could ask. "What are you willing to give for this information?"

Alfred tuned out the negotiations and Antonio's over-eager ordering to shake off a bad feeling that was creeping down his spine.


So...I was MIA for a bit. Ooops. I should be back on track now. Not that I'm promising anything. The whole NSA vs. World thing is hell on a International Areas major. Kinda short due to the massive number of papers I've had to write recently. Props to anyone who can guess the movies they watched. (Yes I have tried to sub soda for flour...don't)

Konigsberger klopse: A Prussian dish. I've had it twice. Once it was heaven. Once is was food poisoning. So I'm on the fence.

Dirty Bong Water: Raspberry liquor, spiced rum, amaretto, Blue Curacao, and sweet and sour...This was my weekend.

"Tu as un fesses fermes...comme toujours": You have a firm ass...like always (I'm still in beginning French, so feel free to correct.)