# Chap7 UsUk MapleTea #
This has twice the follows of my other ongoing fic! I'm so proud of it. Does anyone else treat their fics like their children or is it just me? It's like I have a funny, popular child with a dark side, a silly little one that I forget I have a lot, and this one, a slightly arty, nerdy child that actually has a lot more substance than the others. :3 I love them all.
I'm the same as Matthew with the weather, except it's me and the rain. Which isn't good when I have a weak body and I get sick all the time. Oh well.
### ####
"So, Alfred...how's the team going?"
"...fine."
"Very well," the Brit sighed, giving up on making conversation. Usually Arthur would have the pleasure of hearing about the entire game, to how dumb the other team was to how Alfred suspected Ivan was on steroids. Really, the Brit didn't care, but he found the American's enthusiasm quite...cute, for him. Now he could barely get a whole sentence out of him. It had begun this week; as he'd begun spending his afternoons watching Matthew.
Arthur didn't know why Alfred was acting jealous.
He blinked at the younger boy, studying the pout and wondering what exactly might have brought it on. They were sitting in the cafeteria for lunch, and for some reason Alfred's groupies (he insisted on calling them that, because really, that was how his friends acted) weren't there today. So he was left with Alfred pouting as he tried to eat fifty hamburgers at once, with Arthur himself picking at a salad daintily. Even though people told him he was a complete pansy for eating it, he liked to be healthy. Such was life.
As he was glancing around the room he noticed Matthew wandering past vaguely, drinking a cup of coffee. Well, maybe he could get his conversation, if not from Alfred, from his twin brother. He waved at Matthew, and violet-blue eyes snapped to attention, fixating on him immediately with no expression. He beckoned the blonde closer, and he obeyed, albeit slowly. As he stood silently, waiting for Arthur to say something to him, the Brit felt a pang of uncertainty.
"H-hello, Matthew."
"Bonjour, Arthur."
That was definitely French, he knew that much. He'd heard the language a little, but only when he decided not to ignore Francis for once. Arthur forced a smile to his face and stuck the salad packaging in a pile on the table before he resumed speaking to the Canadian again. Alfred seemed oblivious to all of this, simply sitting there, munching on burger after burger like a mindless machine. Arthur felt a small amount of distaste fill his expression at the sight. It was amazing Alfred wasn't the size of a blimp.
"Would you like to sit? There's something I need to discuss with you."
Matthew smiled, and it looked bitter for some reason. "I'd better not."
"Why? Do you have somewhere to be, then?"
"I...that's not it. But I wanted to go out in the snow."
Out in the snow...? Well, it wasn't a storm or anything, so it was unlikely he'd get sick again. Arthur glanced back at Alfred again indecisively. Why didn't Matthew think it was a good idea? It wasn't like the American was being very good company; and it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with Matthew outside of watching him paint. Arthur still had no idea what he was painting on that wall, and apparently...neither did the Canadian. It was an interesting ritual, one they were still trying to get into.
"I suppose...would you like some company?"
"...you want to..."
"Well, only if you can put up with me."
"I think I can handle it for a while."
They shared a small smile as Arthur stood, gathering the packaging he'd left. Alfred didn't look up, mumbling something but not acknowledging his brother at all. Arthur looked between the two, feeling faintly worried. Were the two fighting or something? Well, they were brothers after all. They were bound to have some problems. He shrugged it off and threw the rubbish in the bin, shoving his hands in the pockets of his uniform. He noticed as they began walking Matthew didn't have anything warm on. Maybe he didn't feel the cold or something.
### ####
What a sight, Arthur thought, watching the Canadian under the shelter of a tree. Matthew was standing in the middle of the snow, the drift reaching up to his shins, a silly little smile on his face. He seemed to be happy simply standing there, absorbing the atmosphere with a calm but pleased demeanor. He looked...oddly enough, angelic. The stressed, emotionless look he normally wore had dissolved into something relaxed. Even though he should be frozen (as Arthur was) he seemed completely at ease, and quite happy out there in the weather.
It suited him, actually. Who would've thought.
"Aren't you cold?"
The Canadian snapped back to reality, tearing his gaze from the sky. Matthew's violet eyes flickered over his face as Arthur drew closer, pulling his jacket around him. One eyebrow raised as the Brit looked down, embarrassed at his lack of resistance to the chill. Then the Canadian shrugged slightly, looking nonchalant. "Nope. I like it out here," he said finally.
"Why?"
Matthew's gaze turned up to the sky. "I'm...not really sure. The snow just has an allure I can't resist, I guess."
"An allure? What are you, a moth?"
"I suppose that is pretty apt, actually. A moth is drawn to light in the same way."
"If you say so..."
### ####
Alfred glared at Matthew as he opened the front door and wandered into the house. The American was sitting on a couch with a packet of chips, as usual, but the dark look on his face was different. Matthew rolled his eyes and made for the kitchen, realising with amusement he was being followed. As he opened the cupboard to find food, he waited patiently for Alfred to say something.
"This isn't fair, Mattie."
"What?"
"At least let him decide for himself instead of stealing him every five seconds!"
"He does have a mind of his own, Al. Just because you decided to act like a petulant child doesn't mean it's my fault."
"I don't even know what that means!"
Matthew finally pulled out a packet of cereal and began munching on it, leaning against the counter. Alfred was standing in the center of the kitchen, azure eyes alight with hidden anger. The Canadian sighed, not really caring. It wasn't like their parents were home, so if he yelled it wouldn't matter in the slightest.
"That's because you don't pay attention to anything but yourself."
"Shut the fuck up!"
It was a good thing he'd put the cereal aside, Matthew thought vaguely as he was slammed back into the counter. Before he could react he was punched in the jaw, hard. Flares of pain exploded and he swung back without thinking, hooking a leg around Alfred's knee and sending them both to the floor, although Matthew had a cushion in the form of a writhing American. Punches, kicks and pain was traded as they yelled at each other, years of frustration unbottling into a chaotic mess.
"This is your fault!"
"What, that you stole my identity and my friends?!"
"You wouldn't even have any friends if it wasn't for me!"
"I don't have any friends, you retard! Because of you!"
"Shut up!"
"What the bloody hell?"
They both looked up at Arthur's stunned face.
"Shit."
