It was almost six o'clock, and his parents were probably beginning to worry. Alfred staying out after school they were used to; he had sports practice, after all. Matthew, however, had returned home by 3:30 every day for his entire high school career, without fail. Even if he decided to go out shopping or to the library, he would notify them beforehand, as much as a few days in advance.

He had sent a quick text, but knowing his mother that would hardly be good enough. And their father had a strict rule about being home for dinner so they could eat as a family, unless there was an important reason to be away (i.e. a game or a date with a "nice young girl"). If he had been thinking logically he would have left more than an hour before. But he hadn't been; he was having too much fun, and more than that he was afraid if he lost this chance it would be his last.

For all he knew Gilbert would tire of him or forget him over the weekend. Come Monday everything would probably be back to normal, so he might as well enjoy this anomaly while it lasted. He could take a quick scolding from his parents. Perhaps they'd be glad for the change of pace, as would Alfred. This was what Matthew thought, anyway.

Gilbert looked a bit strange, although Matthew couldn't imagine why. He was probably busy thinking about his awesome again.

Smiling a bit at the thought, Matthew looked Gilbert in the eyes and continued.

"Yeah, it's getting close to dinner and my parents don't like us out late."

He paused when there was no reaction from the albino, unsure whether to keep going or not.

"I-I can take the bus home, if you like…"

He then began to stand. It was difficult to tell what Gilbert was thinking, so he assumed that he ought to just get going. The other was probably busy, or something. Right as he turned away a hand grabbed his wrist, preventing him from fully walking away.

"Wait—Lemme give you a ride!"

And now Gilbert was energetic again, clearly giving off some aura of pleased self-confidence. At this moment Matthew had the sense that he would never fully understand the workings of his mind.

"Well, thanks then. I'd like that," Matthew said truthfully. A pang in his heart reminded him that he had lied to Gilbert, sort of, about his identity.

He just couldn't face the thought of telling him, partly because it shouldn't matter but mostly because he was afraid. Afraid that when the time came, as it inevitably would, for Gilbert to no longer want him "IRL," that then, at his lowest point, he would also lose his closest friend. That he would have to be alone as he nursed a broken heart. It wasn't like he could run crying to his parents for comfort; he would be disowned before he had the chance to say "So, there was this guy…" And although Alfred in theory would understand, by nature he wouldn't be able to comprehend a thing. Alfred's problems lay in his own fears about being accepted by himself and by society, not in being rejected by the object of his affection.

Someday Matthew would leave home, move far away and only call home every once in a while, never bothering to look back. He would live his life however it pleased him. But for now he had had a stroke of good luck, and he didn't want to waste it. He would get to know Gilbert, and hopefully prevent his parents from ever finding out.

"Hey, Mattie, what d'ya think about driving? You seem like you'd be good at it."

Gilbert tossed the keys over to Matthew, who instinctively reached out to grab them (and then must have looked as surprised as he felt for not dropping them onto the pavement).

The blond cursed inwardly (although with little profanity); he had let another long stretch of time pass without speaking as they walked. And here he was, thinking about how to win his crush over.

"You sure? I when we did manage to escape accident when you drove, pretty much," Matthew said, already preparing to get in the car. Gilbert seemed a bit flustered by the comment, so his ego kicked in to cover up.

"Psh, I did awesome and you know it. I'm just not in the mood, 's all. It's not cool enough for me."

"Perfect for me then, eh?"

"That's not what I mean! Stop twisting my words; I don't like thinking that fast. Anyway, you know the way."

That sealed it well enough, seeing as Matthew had no objections on principle to driving, although it wasn't something he did often, having Alfred as a brother. The car was an automatic anyway, so he didn't have to figure his way around a stick shift.

"True. So… you doing anything fun tonight?"

Lame questions for the win! Who was Matthew kidding… He sucked at this "flirting" thing…

"Well, I gotta invade Francis's place to pick up Gilbird later. That's my pet chick; you should meet him some time, he's awesome!"

"Your pet…chick?"

"Yup! He's fluffy and cute, and super badass."

Gilbert Beilschmidt was probably the only person in the world who would describe his pet as fluffy and badass in the same breath. It should have seemed strange for a guy like him to have a little chick as a pet, but it…suited him, somehow. Matthew said, without turning his eyes off the road, "So, you like cute things?"

He could see Gilbert staring at him from the passenger seat.

"I do not," he said indignantly, although he looked like he was thinking about something.

"Never mind," he continued, "maybe…just a little. But only awesomely cute things, mind you! I'm no pansy-assed wuss."

Matthew opened his mouth to say something but closed it again as he was forced to swerve around a bad driver. They missed crashing by a narrow margin, although the scare had Matthew slamming his hand on the horn.

"Learn to fucking drive, bastard!"

Whoever it was had just stopped in the middle of the road, becoming a roadblock for various other now-furious drivers, Matthew among them. He hated it with a passion when people drove badly. It wasn't a game; people seriously died because of reckless idiots who behaved that way. A few moments after they had cleared the next green light he exhaled slowly. Then he remembered that he wasn't alone.

"S-sorry! I lost control…"

Gilbert was shaking with laughter, contrary to the appalled reaction Matthew would have expected.

"That's some fierce road rage, Mattie! Nice! I bet the guy'd be scared shitless if he could see you. But really, wouldn't've expected it!"

"I-I hope not, but he really shouldn't have stopped like that! It's dangerous!" Matthew looked over for a second while the light was red but focused again soon after.

"I better be careful around you, kid. Don't wanna end up killed."

"I wouldn't kill you.. Though I guess I'd get pretty mad if you were that stupid."

Gilbert laughed harder at that, reaching over to slap Matthew's back (and sending him forward into the steering wheel for a moment). His house was approaching in the distance, a cute little place in the suburbs. He pulled over at the end of the block, since there was already a car in the driveway and him pulling up in some unknown vehicle would seem suspicious.

Although Matthew could practically feel the time ticking away (Oh, was his mother going to be mad), he didn't want the afternoon to end. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt with a rueful smile.

"Thanks a lot, Gil. It was fun."

He opened the door and stepped out onto the curb. Gilbert got out as well; he needed to switch seats.

"Yeah. Hey, y'know what'd be even better than you texting me tonight? Us hanging out again tomorrow."

Matthew hesitated on the sidewalk.

"R-really?"

Suave, Matthew, real suave, he thought to himself. Gilbert didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, send me a message later! Tomorrow's the weekend, anyway. Unless you have plans?"

"No, I'm free, completely!'

"Good, since there's no way anything you'd be doing could beat hanging out with me. Talk to ya later, then!"

Matthew watched as Gilbert got into the car and drove off. He stood still for a few seconds afterward, but eventually started walking over to his house. It was only a short way from the corner, one of those cute places painted a sunny yellow. They had the kind of yard that allowed flowers to grow freely in manicured beds, but god forbid a single grass be cut with anything but military precision.

He tried to let himself in quietly, but as he had predicted his parents were practically waiting at the door. Not literally, but the living room was near enough that by the time he had shut the door behind him they were there in the hallway. Neither looked happy; his mother's usually smiling lips were pressed together in a thin line. There was no cheerful glimmer in her eyes, which was a bad sign. Her foot tapped slowly on the floor as she watched him enter. Beside her his father was staring him down with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Matthew Williams! Where have you been!"

His full name was only ever used in extreme cases (for him, which for another might be a good day. Matthew didn't get up to much mischief).

"Well, I—" he began nervously.

"Stop," his father commanded. "I think we'll want to be sitting to hear this."

Without saying anything else he turned back to the living room, the other two following close after. His father and mother both sat on the couch, leaving only the armchair diagonally across from them open for him to sit on. He did sit, choosing to perch himself hesitantly on the edge of the chair rather than lean back.

"So, Matthew," his mother began. "What made you think that it would be a good idea to stay out after school, doing God-knows-what, and not bother to call or inform us beforehand?"

"Your mother was worried sick about you!"

Matthew prepared to tell them the truth (or part of it, anyway).

"I went out…with a friend? We just kinda hung out, and I'm sorry, but it was really last minute so I didn't get to tell you…"

Both parents seemed taken aback at this, but sadly it did not look like the shock factor was going to be enough to cover up punishment entirely. His mother was at a loss for words at first; her natural instinct to extract all information about this new friend was warring with her parental worry and irritation.

"We were so scared, you know! You could have been killed or mugged and we would never have found out!" By "we" she mostly meant herself, not that Mr. Jones didn't care for his sons. Matthew just couldn't imagine his father getting overly worked up about this kind of thing, an idea supported by the way he was already looking over at his watch as Mrs. Williams continued talking.

"And anyway, who was this "friend" you were with? Why haven't you told me about him before? And why were you so careless? That's not like you."

"I'm fine, mom; I barely went anywhere! We drove in Gilbert's car, and we didn't go more than a few blocks."

For some reason his father looked him sharply in the eye at that.

"Gilbert? You mean that Beilschmidt kid?"

Mrs. Williams turned to her husband, seemingly forgetting her anger at Matthew—for the moment.

"Wait, Mr. Beilschmidt's son? The one who…you know, that one? Our Matthew is friends with him?"

Something akin to mixed fear and astonishment was flickering in her eyes, but unless Matthew was imagining things his father looked proud.

"Mom, dad, what's going on? You know Gilbert?"

"Not him, son; his father is my boss. He runs my branch of the company." It looked almost as if he was going to say more; Matthew braced himself for oncoming judgment. But it was silent, his father's face unreadable and his mother visibly confused. It was understandable, Matthew supposed; he felt more than a little mixed up himself. Gilbert was son of the president of a major company? It just did not suit his image. There was a lot Matthew didn't know about Gilbert, as was now made painfully clear.

"Matthew. Your father and I are going to need to have a talk about this, but I think it's best you aren't reprimanded further; you did get home before dark, after all. Just..be responsible. Don't let this happen again."

There was some strange subtext he was missing, Matthew was certain; this kind of response was extremely out of character for his mother. And she was fidgeting in her seat, looking suddenly rather desperate. In contrast, Mr. Jones couldn't hide the slight upturning at the corners of his mouth.

Matthew rose to go to his room, thinking that they were done. As he walked by his father grabbed him by the arm.

"You're tougher than I thought, son, mixing with that sort of crowd. Don't go to the wrong kinds of places."

After closing the door behind him, Matthew hesitated in the hall. He could hear his parents talking in hushed tones.

"…don't want him mingling with…."

"…offend the boss."

"But why would….not at all…I think…"

"…good for him."

So intently was Matthew focused on the scraps of conversation that he almost missed a text from Gilbert.

U didnt txt D:
rply whn u get this. Wanna go 2 the pond 2morrow?

OH MY FREAKING GOD I FEEL SO FAIL ;w;

I'm sooo sorry for updating so slow! Real life is a bully, but I think I'm getting on a sort of a schedule; shouldn't be so horridly slow next time!
Next chapter will also be Mattie's POV, since it fits better.

I decided on Mr. Jones and Mrs. Williams, as if she decided to keep her maiden name; that way I could have an excuse for Alfred Jones and Matthew Williams.

Anywho, if you've stuck with this I'm madly in love with you. For serious, you make my life just for deciding to read with my little ficcie, for whatever it is :D

By the way, last chapter A/N I failed and said Small Gods (written by Terry Pratchett) instead of Good Omens (Pratchett and Gaiman). I was tired, and I do really like Small Gods. Excuse the fail that is my brain~ To any of y'all who knew the reference, you are an epic, epic person.

Less than three times infinityyyyyy