Chapter 8
"YOU DID WHAT!" Matthew shrieked (not very loudly mind you) at Francis as Gilbert cornered him against the kitchen counter, making the counter press painfully against his back as he continued trying to back into it in an effort to get away from the Prussian. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU SEXUAL DEVIANT!" He screeched, his voice three times higher than it should be.
"Now that's not very nice now is it Mattie". Gilbert smirked evilly. Matthew was silently wishing that Kumajirou would grow fangs five feet in length and would maul Gilbert for him. That or morph into Vlad the Impaler for a short while, though that might not be constructive for his own well being in the long run.
"I phoned the other nations". Francis replied, a smug smile on his face, sipping not coffee, but cheap plonk in a wine glass. He had already complained bitterly and chewed Gilbert's ear off about the fact he couldn't find anything with more class in the Canadian airport shops. "I have dear Monsieur Roderich on speed dial". The seductive tone in his voice made the Canadian and Prussian look at him after giving each other brief quizzical looks, both suddenly worried about the Austrian aristocrat.
"Sleep with anybody". Gilbert laughed.
"Slept with you".
"NO YOU DID NOT!" Gilbert blasted as he spun on the Frenchman. Matthew took the opportunity to put the kitchen table between himself and the bickering nations.
"You can not harm me Gilbert, for I have the shield of amour".Francis smiled as he rolled a strand of his own blonde hair between his fingers while a rose had somehow materialised in his other hand replacing the wine glass. Gilbert was about to unleash hell on him but Matthew, from his position of relative safety (being next to the door as he attempted to get out the room, inch by inch) reminded them that he liked his kitchen, and his insurance company would not pay out because an angry Prussian went mad and turned a tea cup into a deadly missile. He didn't put it past Gilbert to put it through the wall – or walls.
"Fine". Gilbert huffed. "I'll get you later!"
'What is Gilbert doing here anyway, especially so soon? Oh God! He's stalking me!'
"Going back to the main issue," Matthew tried to steer the conversation back on track as well as distracting himself from that rather disturbing thought, "how many nations did you call?"
"The ones that I have the number of". Francis replied.
"So how many are going to descend on my house?" Matthew was dreading the answer to this one.
"Let me think; I called Finland, Greece, Austria, Hungary, Sealand, China, Japan, Spain, South Italy, Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, Russia ..."
"You told Russia where I live!" Matthew shrieked again.
"Google maps". France smirked. "Where you going?"
"Estate agents". Matthew replied, horrified that Russia, Ivan the Terrible mark two, knew where he lived. Damn right he was going to move, and he was going to move more than just down the road.
"It's not that bad". Francis replied, waving off all concern with a brief flick of his hand.
"Does Ivan know where you live?" Gilbert smirked, his blood red eyes shining with amusement.
"No, but that's besides the point". Francis continued to smile but now began to feel very uncomfortable.
"No it's not". Gilbert shot back. "Do you want him turning up on your door step, asking 'You want to become one with Russia, da?'"
"You won't tell him". Francis said with an air of undeserved confidence, considering he was talking to Gilbert.
"Oh? And why is that?" Gilbert drew out his words and laced them with sarcasm. Matthew kept sparing the front door, which he could see from the kitchen door, glances as he expected Ivan to show up any second.
"Because you're a descent person". Francis took a stab in the dark, secretly knowing it would not pay off, but he could still hope.
"Pfft. What world you live in?"
"Err, fellas? Have I become invisible again?" Matthew waved his hand violently while frowning for effect.
"Sorry gorgeous". Gilbert said making Matthew blush, his cheeks now red enough to challenge one of Spain's tomatoes. "Dealing with a nat".
"Pardon, mon ami?" Francis looked upset by the name. "Talking to you is like talking to Arthur!"
"What do you mean by Francis is a nat?" Matthew questioned, not sure if he should laugh or be insulted himself.
"Rampaging elephant stamps on irritating nat". Gilbert mimicked the action with his foot, stamping it hard on the floor twice before twisting it, acting as though he was grinding something unpleasant into the dirt. Francis paled whilst Matthew still did not know whether or not to laugh.
"Excuse me". Matthew interjected again, hoping for a little more success this time. "We have four nations missing, the rest are descending on my house which could be an hour from now or several, and we must provide a united front in what we do, not have differences dividing us".
"Young Matthew is right". Francis said, before adding, "I raised you well".
"Pfft". Gilbert showed his distaste concerning the comment, but took it no further.
"Francis …"
"Dad". Francis corrected.
"Dad ..." Matthew corrected himself.
"Someone gag me". Gilbert chuntered before mooching around the kitchen.
"Why have you got Sealand's number on your mobile phone?" Matthew continued on as though Gilbert wasn't chuntering to himself and currently raiding his cupboards.
"Where you keep the bloody beer round here!" Gilbert slammed the fridge door harder than it needed to be.
"Alfred drank it all the last time he visited".
"And when was this?" Gilbert asked.
"Well over a year ago". Matthew smiled innocently. "If I knew you were coming I would have gone to the shop".
"Good job your cute, or else I would be really angry". Gilbert stated.
"Would you please stop sexually harassing my son?" Francis decided to take the moral high ground.
"Rich". The Prussian sneered.
"When are the other nations going to get here?" Matthew tried desperately one last time to make the conversation go the way that would hopefully lead to productivity.
"Oh, quite soon. I should think the first one should be here within the hour". Francis replied while glaring at Prussia who had just downed an entire bottle of cheap plonk in practically one gulp. "Barbarian". He muttered to himself.
Matthew finally found himself to be brave enough to move back over to the kitchen counter and retrieve his now cold coffee with maple syrup in it. It still tasted alright though.
Matthew, deciding he needed a sit down, moved from the kitchen to the living room, unconsciously flicking on the big, over head light before dropping lifelessly into a chair, all too aware that Gilbert had followed him. Francis, as consequence, had followed also.
'Can I get a break please!'
Gilbert practically sat down in his lap, causing Matthew to give a yelp in surprise before Francis hauled him off by the collar of his lavender shirt.
'I'm going to cry. I just know it. This is insane. I'm surrounded by incompetence'. Matthew looked like the picture perfect example of pity. The dictionary definition should have had a picture of his face at that moment next to it.
"Try not to start a war". He moaned.
Gilbert rearranged himself so he was sat opposite Matthew and Francis (who had perched on the chair arm), actually taking into consideration what Matthew had said about not starting a war. He knew he no longer had a nation, hence no army, but he still believed one hundred percent that he could beat France hands down. Also, there was a first time for everything.
"Can we please stop digressing". Matthew pleaded. "Four nations are missing; one being your brother,' Matthew pointed to Gilbert, 'and two others being my brother and his former father figure. Francis, how would you feel if something happened to you and I did nothing? It would hurt. You would feel betrayed. Well, by sitting here bickering, that's exactly what we're doing. We're betraying them! Please, for their sakes, put aside your differences till this is over so we can get them back".
Francis had fallen deathly quiet, something playing on his mind that Matthew could not find out without asking directly as to what he was thinking. Gilbert flexed his fingers, himself also deep in thought. Matthew put it down to his worry for his younger brother. Matthew let them sit in silence for a few minutes, realising that he had finally got the result he had wanted all along; for others to consider the concept that what might have happened to the four nations might not be as straight forward as they believed it to be.
Gilbert stood up. "I'm going to buy some beer. I'm nicking your bank card and your car keys". With that he left the room, his eyes not drifting towards Matthew but remaining focused directly ahead.
'My words didn't do the just the job; they've hurt Prussia and France'. The thought upsetting Matthew. He didn't mean to upset them both; he just wanted others to take the issue seriously enough to have a civil conversation without name calling and bitching.
Looking over to Francis, Matthew saw that there were tears in his eyes. "Fran … dad?" Matthew corrected himself as rested an arm on the Frenchman's knee.
"I'm fine". Francis waved him off as he blinked back tears and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "I … I just … can't believe how fast the day has flown". Complete topic change.
Matthew, for the first time, noticed that it was growing incredibly dark outside. No moon, no stars, no nothing. Just what little artificial light that could be seen lighting up the clouds from the nearby population centre.
"Gilbert is going to have a hard time finding a shop that's open at this time of night". He commented to himself as he reached over and switched a small reading lamp on. Looking back to his old father figure, Matthew wanted to ask what was bothering him. Something clearly was; but Matthew was having a hard time in his head phrasing it out and making it seem that he cared but didn't have any intention on pressuring him to blurt it out as though it was nothing.
With words failing him and Francis believing that if he tried to speak he would start to cry, both sat in silence for several minutes.
Matthew, firstly, sat and contemplated what sort of predicament his brother could be having to face at that time. His imagination didn't need much time before it produced results he didn't like. After that short spell, cut even shorter by Matthew turning his thoughts to something different because what his imagination was showing him disturbed him greatly, he finally get up the courage to ask Francis what was playing havoc with his mind and conscience when, suddenly, the lights went out.
A/N: I could not help but put Gilbert back into this. I just had too! He's too awesome not to be included. ^o^
Secondly; THANK YOU all who have reviewed this! I went into my inbox and shrieked because of how many reviews I got. I have denied that I shrieked to my father though who thought I saw a big ***, hairy spider and came running to my aid. Good times, da?
Oh – amour means love in French. Writing fan fiction for Hetalia is aiding my language skills no end.
