(A/N: Happy American Independence Day! And happy belated Canada Day, which was last Thursday! Sorry for the break, but I'm back from my vacation with an extra long chapter. Enjoy!)

CHAPTER XXI

Matthew was rudely awakened by the loud drone of a vacuum as it rammed against his bedroom door. "Mattie, I'm coming in to clean," Alfred announced, entering without permission.

"Eh?" the Canadian mumbled as his brother walked in with the rumbling machine, reluctantly sitting up in bed to rub his eyes awake.

Turning off the vacuum, Al asked, "No way, you were still asleep? Come on, rise and face the day. I have to clean."

Confused and still half-asleep, Matt glanced toward the clock, realizing it was past noon. "Why are you going all OCD on me?"

"…Mattie, we've got people coming over in two hours. Don't tell me you forgot what today is."

"…July third?"

"Yeah…?"

Matthew's violet eyes widened as realization hit him. "Oh my God!" he shouted, practically flying out of bed. Right, every year, they celebrated their birthdays together in one party with their friends since the two were born within a few days of each other. However, their family still celebrated their birthdays separately on their designated dates.

Throwing the closet doors open, he thrashed through the clothes. "I-I gotta get dressed! And clean! We have to clean!"

Alfred laughed as his boyfriend rush-dressed, frantically attempting to pull a t-shirt over his head. Walking over to help, Al informed him, "That's the arm hole, Mattie. Your head won't fit through there."

"No, it has to! It has to fit!"

"Would you stop being a spazz and let me help you?" the American teased, shifting the fabric until his lover's head popped out of the correct hole. "See? All better."

Embarrassed by his frenzied antics, Matthew stressed shyly, "We…we have to clean."

Al waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I already vacuumed most of the house. I just didn't get to the kitchen and bathrooms yet."

"You're kidding me," the Canadian stated, an incredulous look on his face.

"Yeah, Dad and Papa promised to stay in their room for most of the party if I helped tidy up the house."

"Oh." Nervously ruffling his blonde waves, Matthew murmured, "I guess I'll, um, go mop the kitchen."

"No, no, no," Alfred denied him, capturing his lover in his arms. "You leave the cleaning to me. All you have to do is make food for everyone, and that can wait. Besides, you're not fully dressed yet."

Sure enough, Matt looked down and noticed the familiar plaid pattern of his boxers. "So…" Al purred, slinking a hand down to his boyfriend's crotch, "why don't we have some fun? You don't need to get dressed for that."

Matthew gasped as his junk was squeezed, his brother's palm proceeding to massage him through the fabric. His face flared even more than usual, as every moment of contact recently reminded him of when they'd made love three days ago.

"A-Al…" he whined, his breath hitching as his cock was pulled out of the fly and lightly stroked, "s-save that for l-l-later- ohhhh… D-Dad and Papa m-might hear…"

Smirking, Alfred didn't let up, putting more pressure at the head as he pumped the growing appendage. "Oh, come on, they're out getting paper plates and food and whatnot. Besides, I think down here is really liking it."

"W-Well, up here isn't!" the Canadian argued, trying to ignore the fingers sliding up and down his dick.

"Really?" To prove him wrong, Al's other hand reached under his brother's shirt to touch his nipples, tweaking them slightly. Matt squeaked sweetly in response, cheeks flushing as his breathing hastened. "I think 'up here' likes it just fine." For extra measure, he gave his brother's dick a tight squeeze.

Mewling, Mattie involuntarily bucked his hips into the hand on his cock. "M-More…"

"What, a hand job's not good enough for you?" Al teased, gliding his tongue up the curve of his boyfriend's neck. "Want me to suck you off?"

Matthew nearly melted at the thought, simply nodding as his mind was clouded with pleasure. Oh, Al's blow jobs were always so good.

With a playful grin, the American sat his brother down on the foot of the bed, jerking down his boxers. He kneeled on the floor, close enough so that his face was right between Matt's legs. "Ready?" he asked with a smirk, flirtatiously licking his lips.

"Just s-suck me off already," Matthew demanded, clenching the sheets between his fists.

"Wow, someone's impatient." Still, he complied and ran his tongue over the pulsating skin, painting it with a coat of saliva.

Feeling the appendage slick over him, Matthew moaned, "Oohhhh…" Al let his brother's cock past his lips, sucking along the length as he darted his tongue out to lick the tip.

The Canadian let out squeals, the wet sensation almost too much for him to handle. He squirmed about on the bed, trying to bring his legs together, but of course, Al's head was in the way.

Daring himself to go farther, the American deep-throated his lover's cock, gripping the sheets in an effort to suppress his gag reflex. After all, he'd heard it felt really good for the receiver, so it was worth a try.

"Ah-Ahhhhhn…" Matthew moaned louder, lying back on the bed as he rolled his hips into that amazing mouth. "G-God…A-Al…ahhhh…ahhhhh!"

When Al started purring, the luscious vibrations made it impossible to hold out any longer, and Matt cried out as he came hard into his boyfriend's mouth.

Alfred happily swallowed his lover's cum, kind of liking the taste of it. "Mmm, Mattie flavor. My favorite."

"Sh-Shut up…" the Canadian whined, hating how his brother said such embarrassing things.

"So," the American began, standing up to brush the tips of their noses together in an Eskimo kiss, "was it good?"

"…Yes."

Al gave him a bright smile, stealing a kiss before walking away. "Now, get dressed while I finish cleaning up. You can start baking after I mop the kitchen."

"O-Okay," Matt replied, his heart hopelessly fluttering inside his chest. It was still amazing to him how much of an effect Alfred had on his body.

"How's the food coming along?" Alfred asked, laying out bowls and platters on the square table.

"Cookies are cooling, brownies are done, and the snacks are ready-to-go in the pantry," Matthew informed him, transporting the treats to a plate with a spatula.

After rifling through the cupboard for chips and candies, the American made his choices and poured them into the large bowls. Smiling as he glanced over at his boyfriend, Al stated, "You look real cute in an apron."

The Canadian blushed slightly, scraping the cookies off the baking sheet. "…They'll be here any minute. Why don't you go wait by the front door for them?"

"Okay." Wandering off to the foyer, Al peered through the windowpanes lining the door. A large grin erupted onto his face as he saw Ivan and Kateryna walk up the pathway. "Hey!" he greeted them, ripping open the front door without a second thought. "Thanks for coming!"

"It is a pleasure," Ivan said, stepping inside as he gave the American a handshake. "Your house is beautiful as ever, da?"

Following him in with gifts in her arms, Kateryna agreed, "It's true. Good to see you again, Al!"

"You too, Kat! Here, let me take those. Mattie's in the kitchen."

"Thanks." She made her way onto the cool tile, her short hair swaying in rhythm with her vast bust. "Hi, Matt!"

Turning around from the stove, where he was slipping chocolate chip cookies off onto a plate, the Canadian replied, "Oh, hey, Kat! What's up with you?"

"Not much. How are, um, things going?"

"O-Oh, things are good," he answered with a warm flush rising to his cheeks, knowing she was asking about his relationship with Al. "They're really…really good." There was no telling what she would think if she knew exactly how good things were.

"I'm glad," she told him with a sincere grin.

Matthew smiled back, thinking of how lucky he was to have her as a friend. There weren't many people would support someone after finding out he was dating his sibling, adopted or not.

…Then again, Kat had a sister who was constantly ranting about how she was going to marry Ivan someday…It wasn't like Matt's relationship with his adopted brother was her first exposure to incest…

"Hey, Feliciano!" Alfred shouted from the foyer as the Vargas brothers arrived. "Lovino! How've you guys been?"

"Really good!" Feliciano replied, his auburn hair curl bouncing as he pulled the American into a friendly hug.

Scoffing, Lovino muttered, "Yeah, well, things would be better if my useless brother hadn't dragged me here. And really, he just had to buy these expensive presents."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Lovino," Al joked, piling the gifts by the door. "Help yourselves to the food set out in the kitchen. Dad's gonna be back with the pizza soon."

Appearing in the doorway with both arms around Yao and Kiku, Yong Soo exclaimed, "Ooh, I love pizza! You know, pizza originated in Korea."

Alfred flashed a charismatic grin. "I'm sure it did. Come on in."

"Ve~ no, it didn't…" Feliciano complained as the Asians walked inside, placing their presents to the side of the door.

Patting his brother on the back, Lovino directed the Italian toward the kitchen and grumbled, "Just let it go."

Thinking everyone had arrived, the American dramatically kicked the front door shut. "All right, it's time to party! Woo-hoo!"

"Al, calm down," his brother warned him, walking out of the kitchen. "We don't want to break anything."

"Well, what else are we supposed to do? The pizza's not here yet."

"I suggest we watch RENT," Yong Soo suggested, fishing a DVD case out of his backpack.

Blinking confusedly, Matthew looked to him and asked, "…What's RENT?"

"Mattie, are you serious?" Al teased, finding it hard to believe that his beloved brother had never seen it.

"Oh, we got us a RENT virgin!" Yong Soo shouted, running into the living room with the DVD in hand, holding it like an Olympic torch above his head.

The Canadian flinched slightly at the mention of "virgin", still not over the fact that he wasn't one anymore. Looking to Al, he inquired, "I-Is it a good movie?"

Alfred smiled, putting an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "Hell, yeah! It's the most controversial musical you'll ever see. It's got everything: gays, cross dressers, junkies, club dancers, starving artists, corporate sell-outs, AIDS, just everything."

"Sounds…interesting."

"I know it sounds really weird, but its themes are really good. And, you know, it's real life."

Nodding with a sincere interest, Matthew replied, "All right, well, let's go watch it then."

Before they could even move an inch, the doorbell rang. Confused, as he had been sure everyone had arrived, the American parted from his lover and walked to the door. "Who could that be? Toris already said he couldn't make it…"

Knowing immediately who it was, Matthew panicked. "Wait, Al-"

Al jerked the door open with no hesitation, freezing in his tracks once he realized who was standing there.

"…Hello, Alfred," Ramón stiffly greeted him, wishing Matt had opened the door instead.

Shit, Alfred's mind spat as tension infiltrated every muscle in his body, I completely forgot he was coming. He was Matthew's friend, after all, so it was inevitable. Rage pooled inside of him as he felt an intense urge to just slam the door in that bastard's face, but Mattie wouldn't like that.

"…Come in," Al muttered, stepping out of the way.

Reciprocating the American's reluctantly polite manner, Ramón entered the house and handed the presents over to him. "Hi, Matt."

"Hi," Matthew greeted him, giving the Cuban a shy wave.

"Um, so, we're watching RENT," Al informed him, dropping the gifts on the floor beside the others.

"Oh, that's a good movie."

"It's, uh, in the living room."

"Then let's…go there."

"…Yeah."

The two walked away into the den, keeping their distance from each other. Matthew sighed and followed them, hoping they wouldn't fight.

When the Canadian walked in, he saw Alfred sitting on one side of the sofa and Ramón on the other, an empty couch cushion in between. It was obvious that they expected him to sit there.

Matthew could already sense how awkward the rest of the party would be.

"Bye, guys!" Alfred called out into the night, waving their friends goodbye before closing the door. Usually, Mattie would've been right beside him, but the poor guy had crashed on the couch. It was strange how he was worn out so easily at parties, yet he'd managed to hold out when they'd finally had sex. After all, he came three times within short intervals in one day; if that wasn't impressive stamina, Al didn't know what was.

Sure that everyone had left, the American let out a sigh of relief and turned around, walking back to the kitchen. "Mattie, everyone's gone n-"

He saw Ramón leaning against the archway leading to the living room, as if he were waiting for him. Damn it, he kept blocking the Cuban's presence out of his mind. All evening, he'd been civil with the bastard, even when they sat on the couch watching RENT with Mattie in between them, but now his brother was asleep…out of the way.

Forcing himself to stifle the sudden hatred arisen in him, Alfred stood his guard and muttered, "…You're still here."

"I want to talk to you," the Cuban asserted, his hands stuffed in his denim pockets.

"…What about?" Al asked, apprehensive as his brother was still in an earshot even if he wasn't awake.

Ramón sighed. "Matt. What else would I talk with you about?"

"…Fine, but first I gotta take Mattie upstairs," Alfred conceded, strolling into the living room. He didn't want to talk with the Cuban, but if it was about his lover, it wasn't a discussion he could just blow off. "It's not good for him to sleep on the couch."

Placing his hand on the Canadian's shoulder, he rattled it slightly. "Come on, Mattie. It's time for bed."

Matthew just moaned and rolled over, burying his face into the sofa. "Mattie, come on," Al insisted, shaking him harder. "You can't sleep on the couch."

"Mmm, carry me," Matt muttered, tossing over to lazily raise his arms up. Chuckling at his lover's childlike demeanor, Alfred complied and lifted him off the couch bridal style. He flashed a triumphant smile in Ramón's direction as he swaggered upstairs, Matt's arms draped around his neck.

"All right, now get some sleep," the American ordered, laying his boyfriend down on the bed.

"No…" Mattie whined, attempting to pull Al down with him. "Stay here with me."

Alfred sighed, bending down to steal a kiss from those tempting lips. "I gotta do something first, but I'll come back and sleep with you, okay?"

Smiling tiredly with shut eyes, he murmured, "Mmkay." Within a few seconds, he was fast asleep, chest rising and falling like the calm waves lapping the shores of the Caribbean.

The American left the room with a loving grin, but he soon wiped it away as he made his way down the stairs, replacing it with a poker face. There were certain rules he tried to adhere to when he had to deal with Ramón: keep a straight face, control your anger, and never, ever cry.

As expected, the Cuban was right where Al had left him, resting against the archway. "…Let's go down to the basement," Al suggested, his guard up and ready. "I don't want to risk anyone overhearing our conversation." His parents were residing in their room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, and he had no idea if they were asleep. The basement was the most clandestine place he could think of at the moment.

"Aren't you the paranoid one," Ramón remarked, fiddling nervously with the plastic gum package in his pockets. God, he needed a smoke, but he'd been trying to quit recently. It was definitely because it was detrimental to his health, not because Matt wasn't fond of the choking smell of burning cigarettes.

Walking out into the hallway, Alfred opened up the basement door. "Are you coming or not? Otherwise, I'll just throw you out."

"I know, I know. You didn't want me here in the first place. It was all Matt's idea." Still, the Cuban complied, following his rival down the steps, the narrow stairway lit only by faded rays emanating from the ceiling.

"Don't even think of smoking down here," Al threatened, hopping off the last few steps to the floor.

"Don't worry, I don't even have my smokes with me."

Staring at him in confusion, the American saw the plastic package he pulled out of his pocket. "…Nicotine gum? Are you serious?" He'd thought it was weird that he hadn't seen the Cuban sneak a smoke all day. The Ramón he knew couldn't go anywhere without a pack or two.

"Yeah," the Cuban answered, popping in a piece, "I've been trying to quit."

A knowing smirk made its way onto Alfred's face. "…I get it now: Mattie doesn't like it when you smoke, does he?"

When his rival glared at him in response, Al continued to goad him, feeling in control for once. "Whatever happened to the great player? Mr. Never-Get-Tied-Down? Oh, that's right, he got wrapped around my brother's little finger."

Unappreciative of the ridicule, Ramón countered, "Yeah, well, if I'm wrapped around his finger, then he's got you dick-whipped."

Al simply shrugged. "I prefer the term 'hopelessly devoted'." Though he wasn't offended at all, for he knew it was true and didn't mind one bit. Besides, his dick usually got what it wanted from Matthew anyway, so it didn't really matter that he was so whipped.

"…Yeah," Ramón replied, regaining his cool demeanor as he chewed the nicotine-laced gum, "I'd say so. Hell, even when you were dating Jenna, you blew her off to go to the festival with Matt."

The Cuban smirked as Al froze, any sense of his self-satisfaction dropped within seconds. "I didn't blow her off," Al growled, clenching his fists. Why did it feel like everyone was bringing that up lately? "She knew that I always go with Mattie on the Fourth of July. Everyone knows that."

"And yet, although you were dating her, you ignored her pleas to go to the carnival together and went with your brother instead. Face it, he even had you dick-whipped back then. No wonder she broke up with you."

Alfred opened his mouth to deny it, but nothing would come out. The words just wouldn't form and he knew why:

What Ramón said was true.

As he ran over his memories in his mind, the American wondered if there had there ever been a time when he hadn't put Matthew first. Unable to think of a single instance, Al averted his eyes to the ground and put a hand to his mouth.

God, just how long had he had this brother complex?

Unbelievable, the Cuban thought, realizing he'd struck an awfully strong nerve. Damn, he hadn't seen Alfred so vulnerable in a long time. Although he knew it was wrong, he just couldn't explain or resist the incredible high he got from hurting Al.

"Oh, but that's not the only thing that bothered her, now was it?" he taunted, determined to sever that nerve. "Sure, your constant devotion to Matt was the main factor, but wasn't there something else she wanted from you besides your full attention? Wasn't it…sex?"

Alfred flinched, blue eyes wide and focused on the floor as he held back tears. Stop, his mind silently pleaded. Just stop it!

"But you didn't want to. You didn't feel ready, but she just kept pressuring and pressuring you…"

"Stop it!" he shouted, unable to take much more. "Stop talking about her!"

"All right," Ramón agreed, "let's talk about Matt instead. You're like this… loyal dog. You're always by your master's side, keeping him safe as you beg for praise and love in return because you're so dependent on him. You've always been like that. Hell, I bet that even if Matt hated you, pushed you away, abused you, you'd still come crawling back like the pitiful cur you are."

"Sh-Shut up!" Alfred demanded, clenching his eyes shut. God damn it, the Cuban's words were getting to him, but he couldn't let himself break down in front of this bastard. Never…never again.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"J-Just shut up!" Why? Why did everything he said have to be true, cutting him right down to the bone?

"So, let's get back on topic here," Ramón suggested. "I started this talk to tell you that I don't have plans to take Matt to the festival. I know he'd never agree since you two always go together as it's your brotherly tradition."

That's right, the American thought, Mattie's mine. Not his; mine. Still, even that wasn't enough to compensate for the anguish surging through him. "S-So what?"

"However," the Cuban asserted, "that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Love's like a carnival game- you've got all these competitors fighting with each other to win the prize. They all pay a price and risk a lot just to get a chance, but only one is lucky enough to run away with the prize. That guy is the one who's most skilled, most prepared; in other words the best."

Stuffing his hands back in his pockets as he turned toward the stairs, Ramón asserted, "And that's me. Have fun at the festival, but if I were you, I'd keep an eye on Matt. A prize can easily be stolen if you take your eyes off it for a second."

"You- y-you!" the American stuttered, unable to find the right words with how worked up he was. How dare he refer to Matthew as some trophy; how dare he threaten him!

"What, got a problem with what I say?"

"I always h-have a problem if-if it has to do with- with you!" Alfred spat, trembling as he was on the verge of breaking down in front of the person he hated the most. Just a little longer…just hold out for a little longer…

"Then why don't you go upstairs and get your precious 'Mattie' to comfort you?" Ramón taunted as he ascended the steps. "Or you could just run to me like you always used to do."

"G-Get out!" Alfred screamed, slapping a hand over his glistening eyes as he lost the battle, choked sobs filling his chest. "G-God- hic -d-damn it, just leave!"

The Cuban just stood there for a while, watching his rival's defeat. It'd been so long since he'd seen Al cry and he remembered all the times his ex-friend had come to him for solace. That doesn't matter now, Ramón thought, pushing away the faint twinge of guilt that was so common these days as he continued up the stairs and out the front door. All's fair in love and war.

Even after he heard the front door slam shut, Alfred continued bawling, slumping onto the floor with his head in his hands. His still healing wounds of nearly a year had been ripped right open again in mere minutes, by simple, destructive words. To make matters worse, he'd broken all of his rules, utterly falling apart in front of that bastard. It was pathetic.

After a few minutes, Al regained some control, his sobs quieter and occasional between sniffling. He slowly made his way up the basement stairs, quietly shutting the door behind him. Trudging upstairs to Matthew's room, he wiped away the last of his tears, determined not to let his brother know how much of a wreck he was.

Alfred entered the room, gazing sadly at the figure lying asleep on the sheets. Shedding all of his clothes, the American carefully climbed onto the bed, trying his best not to wake his sleeping beauty. Matthew, jostled awake by the shifting mattress as Al crawled closer, mumbled, "Eh? Al? What's going on?"

"Don't tell me you forgot," he whispered, hugging his lover from behind. "I came back to sleep with you, just as I promised."

"Mmm…" the Canadian mumbled sweetly in his half-asleep state, vaguely aware of the arms around his narrow frame and the light kisses on his neck. When the lips abruptly pulled away, Matt let out a whimper of discontent. "Why are you stopping?"

Alfred didn't answer for a few seconds. "…Can I hide in you awhile?"

"Eh? What's this about?"

"Let's just stay here forever," Alfred pleaded, resting his head in the crook of his lover's neck. "We- we don't need anyone else. We don't need them to- to remind us of stuff we don't wanna remember. We don't need them to f-fucking stab us in the b-back…"

"Al, what's bothering you?" the Canadian asked, concern seeping into his voice. It worried him whenever his brother talked like this, as it usually was a result of something upsetting.

"I don't want to talk about it," Alfred groused, trying hard to keep his eyes from watering.

"…Is this about Ramón?"

He flinched, and his arms tightened around his lover's waist. "Mattie, I'm- I'm a wreck," Al mewled, his voice quiet and pitiful. "I'm falling to p-pieces. Please, let's just go to sleep. I want to lose myself in you."

Matthew was shocked, the vulnerable sound of his brother's voice so heartrending. Had he ever heard him so broken?

Sighing, he gave in, but not before grasping one of his boyfriend's hands and entwining the fingers with his own. "Al, if you want to cry, you can. If you want to tell me anything, you can. You don't always have to be the hero."

Alfred nodded, but he still held back the tears; held back the words threatening to burst from him throat. This wasn't about being the hero. If he broke down in front of Matthew right now, he'd have to tell him everything.

And the wounds would only open wider.