Matthew groans as he rolls out of bed. He swipes his hand at his alarm clock and misses the first time. Shaking his head and blinking, he reaches over and turns the screeching monstrosity off. He stands and heads toward his bathroom, stubbing his toe on his boots and swearing afterwards. Stepping into the cold tiled room, he groans, wondering if Nanuq moved the bathmat sometime during the night. He staggers to his vanity and enters in the combination to unlock the drawer with his supplies in it. Ever since the prank war between him and Alfred in 1980 something he's kept his bathing supplies locked up. Especially his shampoo. He was not going to be rocking a Nair inspired hairdo again anytime soon. After grabbing his things, he blinks at the sight of his shower curtain. He could've sworn that he'd left the curtain closed after getting out yesterday. Shrugging the confusion off as him being in a rush to get to work, he continues his morning habits.

Matthew turns off the water and reaches for his towel. Which isn't on its bar. Groaning in annoyance, he stretches and grabs a new one. As he's tying the towel around his waist, his cell starts ringing.

"Oh come on," Matthew mutters, rushing over to see who's calling. He glances at the ID before answering and putting the phone on speaker. "What have I told you about changing your ringtone on my phone?"

"Uh, to do it anytime I wanted to and that you welcome the variety," Alfred says, his voice slightly tinny. "Hey, fucktard, learn to drive!"

Matthew snorts. "I take offense to that, I'm not even driving."

"Not you," Alfred says, his voice a bit growl-y.

Matthew chuckles. And then promptly swears when he stubs his toe on his bookshelf. He jumps on one foot, glaring at the offending piece of furniture.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asks, his voice turning toward its 'mother hen' tone. "You ok?"

"I'm fine. Just stubbed my toe on my bookcase," Matthew says. "I don't remember it being that close to my closet."

Alfred's silent for a moment. "Did Nanuq move it while you were sleeping? Maybe he nudged it while laying down."

"Possible," Matthew says. He sorts through his closet, looking for a decent shirt to wear to the airport. He pulls out a lime green button up shirt and tilts his head, wondering when he'd gotten it before remembering that it'd been Alfred's before he'd "forgotten" it at Matthew's house. Matthew tosses it into the top corner of his closet, where he'd been sure it was at before this morning, and pulls out a black t-shirt and red hoodie and a pair of jeans. Matthew clears his throat, "Though if he had, then he had a busy night. He'd moved my bathmat too."

"Really? That is rather active for him. Is it a full moon?" Alfred asks.

Matthew frowns, staring at his phone with furrowed eyebrows as he's getting dressed. He's quiet because he's not quite sure if Alfred's joking. Plus, Alfred had just started cursing out someone else's driving habits and complaining how his grandmother could drive faster.

"Alfred, we don't have a grandmother," Matthew says.

Alfred's silent for a moment. "True."

"And even if we did, she'd probably be dead by now."

"Also true."

"What did you call me for anyway? Shouldn't you be on your way to pick me up to head to the airport?" Matthew asks.

Alfred snorts. "I'd called because I needed to tell you that I was on my way to your house. In fact, this is the second call that I'd made to you."

Matthew throws his hoodie on and pulls his boots over, shoving his feet in them. "Really?"

"Really. In fact, I was going to let you know that I was five minutes out, but we got off topic before I could," Alfred says.

"Oh and how close are you now?" Matthew asks.

Matthew's bedroom door opens, and Alfred smirks at him from the door way.

"Oh, about half a second," Alfred says, ending the phone call. He's in a pair of nice jeans, a dark blue v-neck shirt, black blazer, and some of his nicer shoes. Matthew raises his eyebrows at the outfit.

"A bit dressed up for a trans-Atlantic flight, aren't you?" Matthew asks.

Alfred rolls his eyes as he pulls out a different phone. Matthew recognizes this one as his work phone. "Yeah, well, I had to meet with someone from the Department of State and then some snob from Congress this morning."

Matthew watches as his brother's fingers fly across the screen of the phone for a moment before shaking his head and looking around for his suitcase. He frowns when it's not under the window, but is sitting innocently to the right of it. He could've sworn he placed it under the window. He shakes his head again and grabs the infernal thing, plopping it onto his bed to go through his clothes once more and make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything. Once satisfied, he redoes the zipper and sets it on the ground. He looks to Alfred to let him know that he just has a couple more things to do before they leave, but chuckles at the sight of his brother scowling at his phone—no, wait, phones (the second work phone has come out now) with obvious irritation. It's his 'I can't believe I have to work with you idiots' face. Matthew just smiles, grabs the handle of his luggage, and maneuvers his brother down the stairs and to the barstools in the kitchen. After prodding his southern neighbor into a chair, Matthew begins tidying a few things up and preparing the house for his departure. Once he's done, Nanuq is pawing at the cabinet again, Matthew grabs the bear and walks back to Alfred. The American is in the same spot that Matthew left him in, though his personal phone is out now as well. Matthew glances at it and notes that it's a text conversation between him and Arthur.

"Al, we need to get going or we'll be late," Matthew says.

Alfred nods, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Alright. Can you drive? I've got a few things to finish up before the flight."

Matthew laughs. "How the hell did you manage to drive here?"

"Bluetooth." Alfred shrugs, standing. He somehow misses the luggage on his way to the door, even swerving around Nanuq, who had wiggled from Matthew's grasp and was running to the door.

Matthew just grabs his luggage and reaches into the bowl that he usually keeps his car keys. And his fingers scrape empty glass. Frowning, he looks into the bowl and scowls when he can't find his keys within it. He begins to look around the kitchen, wondering if he's set them down somewhere else. When he doesn't see them, he growls and slams his fist onto the counter.

"Bro, something wrong?"

Matthew turns and sees Alfred watching him, concern in his eyes.

"I can't find my car keys. They're not where I usually put them and on top of everything else, I can't help but wonder if I'm losing my mind. My alarm clock was at the opposite end of my bedside table, my boots were at the end of my bed rather than by the door, my bathroom rug is missing, my shower curtain was open, my towel hadn't been on its bar, my bookshelf had been moved over, that stupid lime green shirt you supposedly forgot here was hanging up rather than crumpled in its top corner, my suitcase wasn't under my bedroom window, and now my keys are missing," Matthew rants. He huffs and sits on a barstool, placing his hands in his head and groaning. "That's it, I'm going crazy."

Alfred snorts. "You missed the fact that your TV was also shifted, your hockey sticks are in the opposite corner, your recliner has moved forward a foot, the pictures along your staircase have changed order, and the bananas that you had in your fruit bowl have been replaced by kumquats."

Matthew looks up and then glances around, noticing that everything Alfred mentioned was true. Feeling suspicious, Matthew finally turns his attention back to his brother, who is smirking.

"Your car keys are by the door," Alfred mentions. "Oh, and your maple syrup has been dyed blue."

Matthew's jaw drops and he rushes to his cabinet. Sure enough, his maple syrup is now blue. And not just a dark blue or whatever. It's electric neon blue. Matthew's eyes narrow and he slowly turns to his brother, who is grinning in smug satisfaction.

"You—you—you complete and utter asshole!" Matthew snarls.

Alfred smirks. "Paybacks a bitch, ain't it? That's for the glitter."

Matthew's eyes narrow as he watches the blue eyed demon saunter out the door. The snap of it closing breaks Matthew from his thoughts and he takes off at a run, grabbing the handle of his suitcase and snatching his keys as he leaves the house, somehow remembering to lock the door. From his porch, he can see the blond with a death wish throw on his helmet and take off on his motorcycle. Matthew's eyes narrow and he mentally vows to get revenge for this during the next week.

AN/ I'm alive! Maybe. I suppose. Anyway, finally got something done for this. I've actually got a couple of other ideas that I need to write up, but I have no idea when they'll be done. Oh, and real quick, to any of my readers who are Russian or who speak Russian, what is a word used at the end of a toast that means cheers, or something similar to that idea? I need it for a chapter that's coming up in here. Yes, that means we'll all see our favorite Russian appear again. Though this time, in a slightly more detailed role. I'm just hoping that I do him justice.

Also, question two, and this is more of a general query, would anyone be interested in seeing a history fic? Basically, what I was thinking of doing is a fiction where I take various events that have happened and look at them from the perspective of a country. I'll admit, I plan on starting with America (I'm American and know the most about American history), but was also planning on branching out into other countries as well. If you think this is something you'd be interested in reading, let me know. If you think that this is way overdone and you don't want another fic like that on here, let me know that as well.

Finally, thank you everyone for your support, whether that be in reviews or following this story.