Chapter 9: Comfort and Cooking

Matthew sat at his kitchen table. It was 5:30 in the morning and the sun had not yet risen. He stared unseeingly into his cooling cup of maple flavored coffee, his thoughts looping around the implications of what he had learned last night. For years, Matthew had gravitated to large population centers and events, being a part of a crowd for just a few hours before retreating to his solitude. Even then, he had been invisible to those around him, but he was still able to be there, in the middle of it all. But now it looked like he never would be able to do so again.

Matthew's mind kept returning to a few memorable riots in his recent history. The Guns 'n' Roses concerts…that worker's strike…those hockey games. Oh, God, those hockey games, Matthew thought in despair. He put his head in his hands dejectedly as the most pressing thought that he tried to block out screamed through his head: he would never be able to attend another hockey game.

The guilt he felt over the injuries of his people and the damages to property which may have very well been entirely his fault was like a fist tightening around his heart. The pain of it brought tears to his eyes. In order to do his best for his people, he would have to give up one of the few joys of his life. He liked the other extreme sports he did in his spare time, but they were all individual activities, so fundamentally different from hockey that they would never fill the void. Neither would just watching a game on the television; so much of the energy that Matthew craved was lost through a broadcast. The realization took his breath away.

His brain scrambled to find a way around this limitation, this personal sacrifice. Gil was with me last night, he remembered. He stopped me from causing trouble. Momentarily, Matthew's spirits were lifted; he could still go to games, he just needed a…spotter of sorts. It took all of an instant for this hope to be crushed. Gil's going to leave.

While Gilbert had yet to specify the length of his stay, he would leave eventually. He would go back to Europe to be with his family, his numerous friends. He would soon be bored with Matthew, so used to the wild antics of his European friends back home. Soon, he would too forget the nation of Canada even existed just like everyone else, and Matthew would be left alone again, unseen for years, decades. Nothing like this could last, Matthew knew from experience. This happiness he had was fleeting and Matthew could see no solution as to how he could hold on to it for longer.

The Canadian silently sobbed at his kitchen table, unable to find a path that didn't lead to his own personal hell.

Gilbert woke refreshed. While his night was not dreamless, it lacked the disturbing nightmares that had plagued him previously. Gilbert moved to stretch, only to find his movements limited by the clothing he wore yesterday.

Laughing quietly to himself, Gilbert stripped off his clothes and grabbed his towel in the early morning light. Gilbert looked out the window to see a beautiful morning with the sun not far above the horizon, pleased that for once the weather matched his mood. Of course, it was rare that he was happy or even awake in the mornings, but that was neither here nor there.

But he really couldn't think of anything to be upset with at the moment. Gilbert thought about his state of affairs while going through the motions of his shower. Sure, Roderich had ripped his heart out earlier in the week and he was avoiding everyone he knew and loved, but was that really so bad? It didn't feel like it at the moment. If Austria had been anything less than cruel about Gilbert's feelings, the Prussian doubted that he ever would have met the Canadian, which would have been a tragedy. The quiet man was polite but passionate and had the unusual ability to keep Gilbert on his toes. When the two were quiet together like yesterday when Matthew had to work and Gilbert was reading, Gilbert felt content just by being in the other's presence. Plus, Gilbert had Matthew's pancakes to look forward to.

With a now damp towel around his waist, Gilbert was heading back to his room when he had the urge to knock on Matthew's closed door. Never one to resist the more harmless impulses, Gilbert knocked on Matthew's door with a soft, "Birdie?"

There was no answer and Gilbert cautiously opened the door a little, subconsciously hoping that Matthew was still asleep (and ignoring the possibility of breaking his first rule in dealing with Matthew). To Gilbert's surprise (and slight disappointment), Matthew wasn't even in his room. The clock read 7:30, so Matthew couldn't be far. Gilbert doubted that much was open at such an early hour and strained his ears for the tell-tale sounds of Matthew cooking. When all he found was silence, concern started to grow in his gut. Gilbert checked the office only to find it empty. It was then that Gilbert remembered their discoveries last night and the look on Matthew's face as he drove home. After just a few days with Matthew, Gilbert knew it would be the Canadian's nature to dwell on what happened.

Forgetting that he was clad in only a towel, Gilbert hurried to the stairs asking loudly, "Birdie!?"

Matthew was startled from his daze at the kitchen table by Gilbert's exclamation and rushed footsteps. After he had cried for some time, Matthew sat numbly at the table, drained of emotions and energy to do anything but sit. Kumajiro had come in and laid his head on Matthew's shoulder at some point, but he didn't remember when. In fact, he had no idea how long he had sat there, but it was time to get up. He would be damned if Gilbert saw him like this. No need to drive the Nation away with his emotional problems sooner than necessary. Taking his almost full cup of cold coffee to the sink, Matthew gathered himself to shoo in Kumajiro out of the kitchen with a pat on the head and respond with a weak, "Yes, Gil?"

Of course, Gilbert didn't hear Matthew speak over his own heartbeat, but he did hear the sound of running water from the kitchen. One hand clutching the now loose towel (and barely noticing the large polar bear exiting the back door), Gilbert ran to the kitchen, almost falling with his slightly damp feet on the wood and tile of the floors. Seeing Matthew with his back turned to him, Gilbert rushed to Canada's side in order to turn the other man to face him.

Matthew was surprised at the sudden movement and didn't have time to mask his face. His eyes held the same desolate resignation that chilled Gilbert when they first met and at the arcade. In addition to this, Matthew's eyes were puffy and red and his skin was unnaturally pale. Tear tracks, long dried, were still slightly visible on is his cheeks. It broke something in Gilbert so see Matthew look so…hopeless.

Internally, Matthew cursed. He was going to use the still running water to wash away both his cold coffee and the salt on his face, but he only had time for the coffee before Gilbert turned him around. Now it was obvious that he had been crying and was basically an emotional wreck. Frantically, Matthew tried to play it off. With a sorry attempt of a smile, Matthew said, "Good morning, Gil. I was just having some coffee-"

Matthew was cut off by a hug. One minute he was looking at the counter to avoid the concern in Gilbert's eyes and the next he being embraced by the very person he was hoping to avoid. While the grip was only with one arm, its strength surprised Matthew, instantly informing him that if he wanted to get away it was going to be a fight. Not one for confrontation, Matthew tried to speak. "Gil? I'm fine, really. I just-"

Gilbert just hugged Matthew tighter and shook his head. If the way Matthew looked bothered him, the utter normalcy of his voice was alarming. How often did Matthew feel this way in order to perfect this utterly polite, kind voice when he looked like the world had just come crashing down around his feet? To be this perfect at it, Gilbert knew, it took a couple human lifetimes. How could one so young be so adept at it? Gilbert didn't wish to ponder on it further.

Meanwhile, Matthew struggled to figure out where to put his hands. It hadn't taken long into the hug to realize that Gilbert was half naked and fresh from the shower. To add insult to injury, Matthew just didn't receive that many hugs. The one last night from Rudy was exceptional and it was usually years between hugs for Matthew. It left the Canadian stiff and unyielding, no matter how much he was coming to appreciate the comforting gesture. It had been a long time since anyone bothered to comfort him.

Gilbert finally realized the state of his undress. Jumping away from Matthew like he had been burned, Gilbert adjusted his towel and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, give me a second, Birdie." With that the Prussian all but flew upstairs, tipping in his haste.

Matthew stared after him for a second, his cheeks regaining some color as a short laugh escaped him. Leave it to Gil to forget that he was half naked. Spirits slightly lifted, Matthew splashed cold water on his face and began getting out the ingredients for pancakes.

Gilbert couldn't help but blush at his actions as he hastily pulled on some clothes and ruffled his hair with a towel. He had pulled a Feliciano! Okay, so he wasn't completely naked when he hugged the other man but still! And Feliciano stopped hugging others naked that last time after Ludwig almost had an aneurism… But getting back to the point, Gilbert was supposed to comfort the Canadian, not molest him. I have to fix this, he thought. I need to help him. Or at least cheer him up, a little.

After throwing on his iron cross pendant, Gilbert hurried back to the kitchen to see a much more composed Canadian mixing some ingredients in a bowl. Gilbert frowned until an idea came to him.

"Let me cook, Birdie."

Determined to show that he was alright, Matthew quirked an eyebrow at his friend. "You cook, Gil?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at Matthew. I see how it is, Birdie. But I have perfected the show-'em-a-strong-face technique since before you were born. Two can play that game. "Of course I do, Birdie. What made you think otherwise?"

"The utter lack of domestic skill that you have displayed thus far?"

"Are you going to make me pout about it? Because I'm sure I could conjure one up in a second and-"

"No! Not that! Okay, how about a compromise? I can teach you how to make pancakes. This way you get to cook and I get to make sure that what you cook is edible."

"Harsh, Birdie, harsh. But the awesome me accepts your compromise."

The corner of Matthew's mouth twitched at Gilbert's proclamation and Gilbert internally cheered himself. This might just work, he told himself.

Matthew stared up at the man sprawled on top of him in mild disbelief. They were both covered in flour with splotches of batter here and there. Matthew tried to remember how he got in this situation.

The cooking lesson began well, with Matthew explaining what went into the batter when and how Gilbert was supposed to butter the pan. Then, when it came to Gilbert actually doing stuff, all hell broke loose. First, Gilbert managed to trip over his own feet when he was carrying a cup of flower from the sink to the island, covering them both in the stuff. Then, when Matthew wasn't looking, Gilbert got the idea that the pancakes would be better if he used a machine mixer rather than stirring the batter by hand like Matthew always did. But he set the thing on a too high setting and ended up splattering half the batter on the counter and the two Nations. What batter Matthew was able to save, Gilbert managed to burn half the pancakes as Matthew tried to clean up the disaster zone of a kitchen. The coup de grace was when Gilbert, carrying the mixture of burned and decent pancakes to the table, slipped on a wayward splotch of batter, taking Matthew down with him. Matthew craned his neck to see if any pancakes had survived the fall. Sure enough, two out of five remained on the now broken plate. Of course, one of them was burned.

Gilbert looked at Matthew with a groan as he started to get himself off of the other. He tried, he really did, but everything had just gone wrong so fast. Going a little red with embarrassment, Gilbert placed his hand on the floor next to Matthew…only to have it slip out from under him, leaving the Prussian flush against the Canadian. Trying his damndest not to focus on how well they fit together or how toned Matthew felt beneath him, Gilbert tried to get up again. After succeeding in getting his body weight off the other man, Gilbert spotted the scattered pancakes and broken plate. "I'm sorry I-"

Gilbert cut himself off as he noticed a fine trembling in Matthew's body and his quickly reddening face. Alarmed and slightly aroused Gilbert started to ask, "Birdie! Are you o-"

Matthew burst out laughing. Gilbert stared down at Matthew in shock. The Canadian was actually laughing at him. In fact, Matthew clutched his sides and tears began to leak from his eyes. This was a laugh no one could fake. Gilbert, relieved to see Matthew so joyous after he looked so lost, gathered false indignation. "Are you laughing at me, Birdie?"

Matthew had to bite his lip to contain himself enough to answer the question. "Yes, I am. You got a problem with it?"

"Well what if I do?"

"Then that's just too bad, eh?"

Gilbert's eyes widened. Then determination crossed his face and Matthew became a little wary. Gilbert thought it was his time for revenge. "Are you ticklish, Birdie?"

Matthew's eyes widened. He was extremely ticklish. "No-"

"Well let's test that."

Gilbert attacked Matthew's sides, causing the Canadian to give a roar of laughter and arch his back in an attempt to get away. His face got impossibly redder and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of sensation. "Ah-Gil-please-haha-stop! Hahahaha stop!"

Gilbert stopped but not because Matthew asked him to. His jeans were starting to get a little tight watching Matthew writhe underneath him and he needed to not be doing this anymore to keep from jumping on the Canadian for things nowhere near as innocent as tickling. With a smirk, Gilbert got up from Matthew. "As you wish, Birdie."

Matthew froze for a second, immediately recalling one of his favorite movies from the 1980s. Gilbert offered Matthew a hand up from the floor which the Canadian took, dismissing his thoughts on The Princess Bride. He doubted Gilbert would make such a cheesy reference if he even felt that way about him. Which was impossible anyway. Yep, totally inconceivable.

Gilbert had never actually seen The Princess Bride, so he was unaware of how his words affected the Canadian. He looked at the pancakes on the floor in despair. "Well, so much for breakfast."

"You know I'm going to get revenge, right?"

"For what?"

"For the tickling."

Gilbert smirked at the man. "Oh, really? How are you going to do that, Birdie? I'm not ticklish like you."

For some reason, Matthew believed him. Matthew looked around the kitchen, shaking his head as he said, distractedly, "Oh, don't worry about it. It will come in an unexpected way at an unexpected time…"

"What-?"

"How about we clean up then go out to breakfast, okay?"

"Alright… By the way," Gilbert said as he hugged the Canadian from behind. Matthew immediately stiffened then forced himself to relax. "If you need to talk to me, I'm here, okay?" Stepping away from Matthew, Gilbert looked around the kitchen with a grimace. "Let's get started so we can go eat."

Gilbert had succeeded in cheering up Matthew, yet now he had to be on the look out for any future revenge Matthew might cook up. This was a slightly alarming prospect, as Gilbert looked at the now relaxed and happy Canadian out of the corner of his eye as he cleaned, it was worth it.

Now here's to hoping that what he had planned for the night would not undo all his hard work…

A/N:

Song: "Missing" by Evanescence for Matthew at the beginning. I know it's not exactly right but it's the best I have for now.