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Chapter 3: Salt
Pancakes filled Matthew's kitchen. The next world meeting was less than a week away and he had to make these perfect. At the moment, he was trying to find the ideal maple syrup to pancake ratio.
Finally running out of batter, he looked up from his stove. His kitchen was a disaster. He'd never seen so many pancakes. Maybe he could get Alfred to come over and help him and Kuma-whatever to eat them. It shouldn't be too hard to convince him if food was involved.
"Kuma! Come eat some pancakes!" he called quietly to his polar bear.
"Who're you?" the bear mumbled as he waddled into the kitchen.
"I'm Canada. I feed you." Matthew sighed. His bear was so forgetful. But he was in a good mood from cooking pancakes and being forgotten again wasn't going to ruin it. He had things to look forward to for once.
A second glance around his kitchen confirmed it was definitely time to call in back-up. He dug his phone out from under a sack of flour.
Alfred answered on the third ring. "Mattie!" thank the maple leaf for caller ID. He hated trying to explain who he was over the phone. "Sup, bro?"
"Hi Alfred. Um. I made pancakes if you-"
"Pancakes? I'll be there in five!" Alfred interrupted excitedly and hung up the phone.
Matthew shook his head in amusement. Only Alfred...
Maybe his brother could give him some advice. He didn't really have anyone else to ask; Arthur would waste his time trying to figure out who he was and Francis' advice would probably make things worse. He shuddered as he remembered getting the 'talk'. That had scarred him for life.
Exactly five minutes after they had hung up, Alfred pounded on the door. Matthew let out a single, quiet laugh. Food was the only thing his brother would be on time for.
"Hey, Al." he greeted as he opened the door.
"Hey, bro! Where are the pancakes?" Alfred gave him a brief one-armed hug, using his other hand to ruffle Matthew's hair. Matthew pushed him off halfheartedly with a smile and led the way to his kitchen.
"Oh my God. They smell delicious. Can you make more?" Alfred gestured around the kitchen, piling a plate full.
Matthew just laughed quietly. "See if you can eat all these first."
"Will do!" Alfred announced and shoved a huge fork-full into his mouth. It was as if the American had made it his own personal mission to devour the hundreds of pancakes stacked around the room. Then again, he probably had.
Before getting a plate for himself, Matthew figured he better ask for advice now before he internally talked himself out of it. "Hey Alfred...can I ask you something?"
"Mmph." Matthew took that as a yes as he got his brother a glass of milk.
"You know Lovino?" Matthew started.
Alfred swallowed and looked up at him, reaching for another pancake. "The angry Italian? Why? Did he do something?" he looked threatening and Matthew felt a surge of happiness at his protectiveness.
"No!" he hurried to answer. "No...Do you...Do you think he likes pancakes?" Matthew asked quietly.
Alfred pondered for a moment, chewing thoughtfully while Matthew fidgeted nervously.
"Is that why you made all these?" Matthew made a face. "Mattie, I know how you get; but he's so angry all the time, don't waste your effort!"
"But...I want him to be happy, Al. And pancakes make everyone happy. And...I think he...I think he may have seen me. Or at least noticed I was there." Matthew trailed off looking at the floor, cheeks turning mildly pink.
"Oh, Mattie." Alfred sighed. "Don't fall for him, you'll just get hurt."
"I think it's too late for that." Matthew whispered as the two North Americans looked around at the mountains of pancakes.
Alfred gave a low whistle, finally taking in the sheer volume of fluffy deliciousness. "Mattie. I know you like him, it's obvious, you've been making pancakes all day. But I also know that you fall fast. Please don't do this just because he might have seen you. You don't even know for sure."
"You don't understand, Alfred. It's a big deal. He kept Ivan from sitting on me!" Matthew felt tears come to his eyes.
Alfred sighed. "I know, Mattie. I know. I'm sorry... I just want you to be happy. Please be careful with your feelings though." Matthew sniffed. "I think he'll love these." Alfred gestured at the pancakes. Matthew was taken aback; his brother was being so much nicer and more sensitive than normal.
After another large bite, he continued. "And if he doesn't I'll hit him. You make the best pancakes ever." There was the Alfred he knew.
The Canadian gave him a watery smile. "Thanks, Al."
He got a few pancakes for himself and joined his brother at the table. "So how are you going to give him the deliciousness?"
Matthew sat in contemplation for a moment. "Well, maybe at Friday's meeting, I can ask him to come a little early to Saturday's? Then he can have them before the conference and they'll still be warm."
"Yeah. I was going to suggest a few fighter jets and maybe a superhero robot, but your idea is probably better this time...Oh my God, Mattie!" Alfred pointed at a half-eaten pancake.
"What?"
"This one! This one's the best ever!"
"Are you sure? Do you remember which plate it was from?" Matthew asked.
"Am I sure?" Alfred replied sarcastically. "Of course I'm sure! You may be the expert at making the pancakes, but I'm the expert at eating them. It was from that blue plate over there." he pointed to a carefully stacked pile by the sink.
Matthew smiled. The second to last batch. If his brother deemed them the best, surely they were the ones he should make for Lovino.
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