The breeze lifted around your hair as you distantly walked down the street. It was a cloudy Sunday, nothing too special in the weather department. Stopping a little to take a breath of the crisp air, you racked your brain for things to say. Two days ago, America had invited you to have dinner with his family. You had conversed with all of the boys (except for Francis), why so nervous? You had no idea, but your heart as running at the speed of a fleeing rabbit. The cedar house was coming ahead, and some breath caught in your throat as your stepped forward on the concrete, smoothing a hand over your hair. Get it together, (y/n), you've met them dozens of times, what's the matter?

You stepped on the porch, shifting your stance. Just as you were raising a fist to knock, Freedom swung the door open, beaming. "Hey!" Seconds later, you were engulfed in a short-lived hug, face pressed against his blue button-down.

"Let off of me, you geek!" You exclaim, pulling away to kiss the American on the cheek. Flushing an ultra-bright red, the blonde lead you further into the house (which you already knew fairly well) and into the living room, where a very exited Canadian was shouting French at the TV screen.

"Hey…..hey Mattie…" Several times, America tugged on his twin's sweater, regaining his attention. "Matt, we have a visitor.." The passionate hockey fan stole a glance your way, and nearly did a double take, immediately dialing down the volume on the television, which was playing a heated hockey match. "You remember (y/n), right?" Your boyfriend asked, pulling you closer to his chest.

"O-oh….you're Alfred's girl, eh?" You had to stifle a laugh in America's shirt.

"Alfred?"

"It's my legal name…." You could already feel America's confidence shrinking, so you swallowed the giggles as much as you could. He may be a cocky hottie, but he sure had a big helping of dork mixed in.

"Oh, 'ello, (y/n). Pleased to see you here." A slightly posh British voice floated over from the kitchen; you didn't have to turn to identify the person. "Hello, Iggy." The bushy-browed Englishman was smiling as much as he could whilst swatting away a slightly familiar boy. A breathtaking boy, might you add, the first boy to recognize you from the 'Game Stop Incident'.

How did you forget him?

The new family member slid his pair of deep blue eyes your way, and gave a friendly wave, letting off of the shorter Arthur. America's grip on your waist instinctively tightened, like he always did when jealous.

"So, you must be the famed (y/n), no?" The brother walked over with obvious leisure, Francis was the name. He cocked an eyebrow, an open smile taking over his facial features. Without leaving any time for a response, the new brother gracefully took your hand, gracing it a gentle kiss.

Geezus, maybe this is why Freedom kept him away.

With a blazing blush, you clear your throat. "Yeah, I-"
"Screw off, Francis. Stop flirting with her." Freedom's adolescent voice cut into the conversation. You could just sense the fire bubbling under his cool and sharp tone.

Uh oh.

"Hey, chill. He wasn't flirting. I just want to get to know your brothers, okay?" You cut in, hoping your tone would relax him. With a relentless sigh, the blonde rolled his eyes in agreement.

"Y-Yeah, maybe you should calm down, Alfie." Matthew practically whispered from the couch area. He was calmly draped out on the couch, the television showing nothing but Coke commercials.

With a smile just as cocky as your boyfriend's, Francis nudged the glowering American. "What, you can't accept the ways of my culture?"

"Oh, come on, Frenchie, don't use 'culture' as excuse to get another chick on your arm." Iggy sourly remarked from the kitchen, where he was heating up something frozen with unbeatable concentration. You fled to the couch; no need to get involved in a conflict triangle. America fell next you, burying a ruffled, yet smirking face in your hair. "Ignore them, they're just being brats." He murmured, and you nodded in agreement, playfully shoving him off.

"Move it, Flirty." Francis squeezed in next to his little brother, causing you to be pressed against a very confused Matthew. Well, at least he was soft. Francis leaned over to get a good look at you. The flirtatious gleam in his eye had disappeared, but a quiet laugh remained under his breath.

"So...tell me about yourself, mon femmei." Francis trilled with a light tone, sounding genuinely interested. He didn't seem like a problem, so, you sat back, thinking. "Uh..."

"I know one thing, and that she's mine." America sulked, his tone still pleasant, but with a definite bite. You never knew how protective he could be, it, to be honest, it was quite cute. You were just about to interject, and answer Francis, when a slightly girly shriek shot from the kitchen.

A sigh.

"I'm alright..."

Matthew smiled good-naturedly, and heaved himself up to assist the surprisingly helpless Brit in the kitchen. "He can't cook for shit." The American whispered in your ear with a giggle.

"Not sure why we even trusted him for dinner tonight. I mean, it's just leftovers. But still, he manages to screw that up too. He once burned water, no joke." Francis laughed softly next to Alfred.

"I heard that...anyways, come on. Dinner's being taken over by Mattie, thank you, by the way," the Brit snapped, leaning on the counter. You just noticed the very small piercing under his lip by how it glinted in the dying sun.

"Anytime.." The Canadian called over his shoulder, fussing around in the pantry. A small, yet noticeable collective groan from the two brothers on the couch. "Pancakes again?"Alfred muttered, snaking an arm around you like he did a two months ago, at the movie theatre. A reminiscent smile broke onto your face, and you turned to meet his eyes. "Hey….remember when you were stalking me for my number? At the movie?" A look of confusion crossed his face, following by a bout of laughter.

"That was ages ago, damn. Sure was one of my lower moments, even for a hero like myself. You still remember?"

"Why would I forget?"

Alfred shook his head, as if scolding his past self. "Yeah….sorry about that, I was pretty desperate."

A soft reply floated from the kitchen. "And you still are."

"Oh, shut it, Limey."

The sparking tension between the brothers was interesting to watch, and you leaned into the American's soft body, saying nothing. A sharp movement caught your eye; Francis was leaning over to your boyfriend, and whispering something in his ear. You could just hear bits and pieces of the words.
"You really got lucky with her…..beautiful...gonna go far….." And with a satisfied smirk, he settled back in his original position, leaving Alfred with a miffed and honoured expression.

"Okay, guys, it's make-your-own pancake topping day." Matt spoke to the wall.

A mixed roar of groans and a cheer met your ears. "Did we not have this last week?"

Mattie's face oozed with subdued annoyance that looked out of place on his face as he turned on a heel to face the group. "We WOULD have had something better, but we made the grave mistake of trusting Iggy with the kitchen."

"You bloody tool-"

"Besides, it's not like it'll kill you."

"True, true." Francis mused, tipping his head to the ceiling and shooting you a sweet smile. It felt like America was pressing you to his chest harder than ever. Taking advantage of the protective affection, you snuggled into his harder than ever. Why had you never figured out how snuggly he was?

You decided to pipe in. "Honestly, that sounds great. Thanks, Matthew."

"It'll be ready in 5." Even though the Canadian's back was turned, you could tell that you had lifted his spirits. This might not have been an ideal visit to the family, far from it, in fact, but it seemed innocent enough. You'll be fine.

(I know this is unprofessional but….

I'm making this chapter a Part 1-Part 2 deal. Because YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR MONTHS AND YOU DESERVE THIS CHAPTER AND I'M SORRY. PLEASE. TAKE THIS.

I'm making the next update really fluffy to make it up to you.)