A/N: I got two anonymous reviews on the previous chapter, so I'm going to respond to them here:
America -Yes, yes, I'm sure poor Alfie appreciates your concern. He appreciates all of your attention, actually, so... Yeah. Here's that update you asked for xP
animelover12 - I'm so glad you've enjoyed the story so far :) I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much, if not more, than the previous ones.
Also, I'm guesstimating about two or three more chapters until the official end of this story. Kind of excited, but so upset. Anyway, enjoy. :)
Matthew slept through the rest of that night and late into the next morning. No one bothered to wake him; they all figured that Matthew would come out of the room on his own when he was ready. But that didn't stop Francis from trying at least several times to shake the defenseless Canadian to consciousness.
"We can't just leave him in there all alone, Arthur," Francis whined as Arthur dragged him away from the room for the fifth time that morning. "He'll get lonely. He'll think we're neglecting him. He'll get so depressed he won't ever come out!" Francis gasped in horror, his hands flying to his face. "I need mon bebe to come out!"
Arthur tightened his grip around the struggling Frenchman. "He'll be quite fine, I assure you," he grunted as he threw Francis onto the couch.
"No, no, you don't - " Francis started to move off the couch again, but Arthur shoved him back down. He kept his hands planted firmly on Francis's shoulders, keeping him seated on the couch.
"Matthew will be fine, Francis," Arthur says soothingly. "I promise you. Just let the lad sleep."
Alfred walked past the two nations towards the kitchen. "He's not asleep," he corrected as he disappeared through the doorway. Arthur and Francis turned their attention to Alfred, listening to him rummage through the refrigerator before walking back into the kitchen. His arms were filled with junk food and sodas.
"And you know this how?" Arthur asked skeptically, eying the food in Alfred's arms in distaste.
Alfred turned toward them, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Because I just opened the door and he was staring at me. He looked all pitiful, like a kicked puppy. So I'm going to go talk to him. That's what he's waiting for."
Arthur and Francis stared at Alfred in shock as he entered Matthew's and Francis's bedroom. They shared an awkward look before glancing back at the now-closed bedroom door, their mouths working soundlessly.
Francis recovered first, his face drawing into a childish pout. "Since when has the moron known how to cheer up Matthew better than me?" He crossed his arms and huffed, the pout on his face growing.
Arthur released Francis's shoulders and stepped back, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he made his way slowly towards the bedroom. "They've always been close, you know that. Now hush before they hear you and get over here." With an impatient wave of his hand, Arthur signaled for Francis to join him at the door.
With a sneaky grin on his face, Francis joined Arthur, placing his ear against the door and holding his breath as he listened closely.
Alfred dumped the snacks and drinks on the foot of the bed, taking care not to drop the sodas on Matthew's foot. When all the snacks had been disposed of, Alfred took a step towards the head of the bed, where Matthew's face was covered by the thick blanket Francis had tucked him into the night before.
"Mattie...?" Alfred asked uncertainly. He leaned forward as if he could meet Matthew's eyes through the blanket. The blanket shifted, but it didn't reveal the golden-haired head underneath. "Mattie, can we talk?" Alfred sat precariously on the edge of the bed.
Matthew shifted over so Alfred could sit on the bed completely, taking the blanket with him. Alfred scooted onto the bed until he felt his lower back bump against Matthew's bent knees. Silence filled the bedroom for a few agonizing moments.
Then Matthew shifted and sat up, the thick blanket falling from his head and pooling around his hips. He rubbed at his eyes before leaning forward and touching Alfred's elbow lightly. "I'm sorry, Al," he whispered. His voice was small and quiet, but it seemed to echo in the near-empty, darkened room.
"Sorry for telling me the truth?" Alfred chuckled humurlessly, turning his head and meeting Matthew's gaze. "Arthur always used to say I needed to learn to appreciate when others told me the truth instead of getting mad about it. I mean, yeah, what you said hurt, and I got mad about it, but it was the truth, and I can see that now. You don't have to apologize." Alfred dropped his gaze, staring instead at where his hand was fisted into the sheets of the bed.
Matthew sat up the rest of the way, leaning his back against the cold cabin wall. He motioned for Alfred to sit beside him, waiting patiently until his brother had situated himself comfortably before speaking. "I don't know what came over me," he began. His voice was still quiet, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of his own words. "I just - you know how involved in my country I am, Al, and you saying that we didn't need to listen to what happened to the rest of my country upset me. A lot."
"I'm sorry, Mattie," Alfred mumbled. "I didn't think - "
"You never think," Matthew chuckled, nudging Alfred gently with his elbow. "Hand me that soda and those chips, will you? I'm starving. I just played with everything Francis brought me to eat." He grabbed the offered soda and chips gratefully, ripping open the bag and peering inside, frowning at the lack of chips and over-abundance of air. "Your chips never cease to disappoint me, Al," Matthew joked as he grabbed a few chips from the bag.
Alfred chuckled and opened his own bag, taking a drink from another soda bottle. "They disappoint everyone." He leaned into Matthew and rubbed their shoulders together playfully. "So... am I forgiven?" He turned his kicked-puppy-dog expression up full blast and batted his eyelashes at his brother.
Matthew stared at Alfred for a few silent moments before repeating Alfred's question. "Am I forgiven?"
Alfred and Matthew stared at each other, then they both broke out into wide grins. "Yeah dude, you're forgiven. Now let's dig in before Arthur hears the bags and decides he wants to ruin our brother time." With a cackle, Alfred continued eating his chips, digging his elbow lightly into Matthew's ribcage to encourage him.
"You're lucky I'm hungry, Alfred F. Jones, or I wouldn't even be considering putting this junk in my mouth," Matthew joked, pulling a handful of chips out of his bag.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever man. Just eat your stupid chips before I decide I don't like you." Alfred burped and ruffled Matthew's hair, leaving behind chip crumbs and grease in the Canadian's blonde locks.
Matthew squealed in disgust and slapped Alfred's hand away. "You really do need to learn some manners! Maybe that's what we can do while we're waiting for the snow to be cleared away - teach you some manners."
"I'd like to see you try, Williams." Alfred met Matthew's gaze once more, a challenging glint in his eyes. With a devilish smirk, he brought the soda bottle to his lips, finished off what was left, and belched so loud his ears rang.
On the other side of the bedroom door, Arthur and Francis cringed as they made their way back to the couch. Once they were seated, the two European nations shared a desperate glance.
"They're both so disgusting when they're getting along," Arthur observed.
Francis cocked his eyebrow and shrugged. "It's all because of your barbarian. Matthew is such an impressionable child. He'll go along with anything Alfred wants him to do. Although he was right about one thing - it is about time we taught young Alfred some manners."
Arthur and Francis shared another, determined glance, nodded once, and began their plans.
A/N: I had a lot of fun writing the bonding scene between Alfred and Matthew. That's always how I pictured they'd interact when they were "bonding" or making up after a fight. Good old disgusting boy habits xD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please don't forget to review and let me know what you think. :)