This wasn't happening. It was surreal. There was no way.

All the bags were packed and loaded in the car. They'd eaten lunch and had helped clean up the kitchen. Now it was time for Gilbert and Ludwig to go back to school for the spring semester. The only thing left to do was say goodbye to their parents. Gilbert had hugged his mother and promised to let her know when he and his blond brother had reached their campus so that she would know the icy roads hadn't gotten the best of her sons. It wasn't an abnormal exchange for them. What Gilbert was having trouble registering and understanding was the fact that when he'd gone to shake his father's hand, the tall blond man had hugged him instead.

He couldn't remember the last time his father had hugged him. When he was a boy, maybe, before Ludwig had been born or while he was still an infant. Certainly not since his brother had gotten old enough to become their father's favorite. Hugs just didn't happen between himself and his father. That's just how it was. But there he was, standing on the front porch, all bundled up against the cold, with his father's arms wrapped around him in a tight hug that was a little awkward just because it wasn't what he was used to.

Surprise at the affectionate gesture made Gilbert wait nearly five seconds before he came to his senses and somewhat hesitantly hugged his father. The arms around him tightened just slightly and Gilbert couldn't help the dumb-founded look on his face.

Wow. This was really happening. His father was hugging him. He was hugging his father. They hadn't fought in days and now this. Unbelievable. It was nothing like hugging his mother, of course, because she was small and rather narrow-framed and always hugged him around the neck to force him down to her height. His father was broad-shouldered and muscular and hugging him was like hugging a bear. But it was warm, and genuine, and Gilbert found that even though it had seemed impossible and awkward at first, he was enjoying it. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to pull away after a few more moments, offering an uncertain but hopeful grin to the taller male.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Vater."

Clapping him on the shoulder, his father walked the few steps with him to the car and smiled at both of his sons. "Auf Wiedersehen, Gilbert, Ludvig."

"Auf Wiedersehen." Looking more than a little pleased at how well the day was going, Ludwig waved at their parents before settling in the driver's seat as Gilbert did the same on the other side of the car. Moments later they were out of the driveway and off down the street, their house and parents quickly disappearing from view though both boys knew they would stand on the porch for a few minutes, at least.

For a while, the only sound was the car's engine. Ludwig kept his eyes on the road and Gilbert was too busy staring off into space to start a conversation. His father had hugged him and it had been nice. How the hell was he supposed to react to this?

"Zhat vas nice," Ludwig eventually broke the near silence, pale eyes glancing sideways at his brother. "Visiting home for so long. But it'll be good to be back at school."

"Ja." Still distracted by his thoughts, Gilbert murmured his agreement barely loud enough for the blond to hear. When it finally occurred to him that Ludwig hadn't seen Feliciano in weeks, he sat up straighter and cleared his throat. "Do you vant zhe room tonight?" he asked, knowing that he didn't have to go into specifics for Ludwig to understand why he was asking. The blond hummed thoughtfully as he considered it, then shook his head.

"Nein, zhat vouldn't be fair to you. Besides, I'm sure Feliciano vould like to see you, too."

"Ja, just as long as he doesn't bring zhat asshole bruder of his."

Ludwig grimaced but quickly covered it up. "Lovino isn't an asshole, he just…" Pausing, the younger of the two brothers tried to come up with a polite way to explain the moody Italian's unpleasant behavior. "He's…like you, actually."

Taken aback, Gilbert jerked before turning offended red eyes on the other. "Vhat?"

An uneasy but slightly amused grin spread across Ludwig's features. "Feliciano told me zhat Lovino used to get sick a lot as a kind, so he vas left out und not as vell-liked as Feli. He grew up zhinking no vone liked him because he isn't as cheerful as Feliciano is und zhat it vould be useless to try to make friends. At least, zhat's vhat Feli zhinks."

"Und vhy vould zhat remind you of me?" Gilbert was still a little offended to have been compared to Lovino, seeing as he didn't get along with the foul-mouthed brunet even a little bit.

Eyes leaving the road, Ludwig gave the albino to his right a knowing look. One of his blond eyebrows was lifted and he'd tilted his head a little. It was a look that said, "We both know exactly why." But Gilbert ignored it—no way would he ever agree that he was like Lovino.

"Because not long ago, I had a bruder who smoked und drank to excess. He picked fights, skipped class, und had a personal grudge against zhe vorld. Und he vas sure zhat his vater vould never like him because of his kleinen bruder."

Even though Ludwig was watching the road again, Gilbert felt like someone was looking at him. The way he'd been acting all that time sounded stupid when his blond brother said it like that. It sounded stupid and lame and completely not awesome. How had he ever thought acting that way was awesome? Now was definitely better. He was happier.

Resurfacing from his self-evaluation, Gilbert noticed that Ludwig was smiling and glancing over at him very other second.

"Vhat?" His tone was a little more impatient than he meant for it to be.

Blue eyes met red; Ludwig's smile grew and he finally settled his gaze on the road again.

"Nozhing."

Well that was annoying as all hell. Gilbert didn't push it, though. There would be a little point in trying to get something out of someone with as much self-control as Ludwig. It'd take him days to make any progress and by then he'd be too bored to care, anyway. He might as well let it go now.

But he still wasn't going to admit that he was like Lovino.

X

"Mattie!"

The sound of his name being shouted startled Matthew so much that he jumped and nearly dropped his phone. He'd been turning off the Airplane Mode as he and the other passengers left the plane and exited the terminal. Now someone was calling to him.

"Matt! Over here!"

He recognized that voice, and when he turned to follow it, he was unsurprised to spot his energetic older half-brother. The sight of Alfred, grinning and waving, put a smile on the blond Canadian's face. It slipped a little in the next moment, however, when he noticed who Alfred was standing with. His chest tightened and his hands went slack as every nerve in his body fired warning signals. It was only for a couple of seconds, though, and then his smile was back and he walked towards the small group with as much confidence as he could manage.

"Alfred." His bag was set down and he hugged the taller blond, smiling when he was squeezed and lifted slightly.

Grinning widely, Alfred set his younger brother on his feet again then pulled away. "How was your flight?"

"It was fine, but what are you doing here?" Matthew asked, picking his bag up once more and settling the long strap over his shoulder.

"Getting you, of course! Didn't you get my text?"

Matt lifted his phone and shook it a little. "Pas de téléphone dans les avions," he teased, enjoying the blank look on Alfred's face a little more than he probably should have. "Airplane mode, Al."

"Oh." Now the blue-eyed blond was slightly embarrassed. "Right."

"I was just going to take a Taxi, but thank you for coming." With a polite smile, Matthew looked at the two people standing just behind Alfred. "George," he greeted, and the man's gentle smile became a grin.

Blond hair that was styled much the same way Alfred's was, but pushed back away from his forehead. He had glasses, and gray-blue eyes. His grin was easy and relaxed and everything about his attire said "well-off business man, thank you." George Jones was very obviously Alfred's father.

"Please, Matt, I'm your dad, not your boss," he joked, reached out to pat Matthew's shoulder.

Less obviously, he was Matt's father, too.

"Sorry." It was only his third time meeting the man who had turned out to be his father, and Matt was already sure he would never get used to calling anyone "Dad." He knew George wanted him to. The American wanted to be the father he never was to Matthew while he was growing up, but the idea of even having a dad was still too new for Matt. It was progress that he'd called the man "George" rather than "Mr. Jones" this time, which was impressive considering he'd been surprised to see him.

And then, of course, there was her. Mrs. Jones, Alfred's mother. Looking at her, Matthew couldn't understand how George had supposedly fallen in love with two very different people.

His mother was dark-haired and her skin displayed the native blood in her veins. Her features were delicate and her eyes were green. Matthew had gotten all of his looks from George, though the man obviously spent more time in the sun than Matt did and so had tanned his pale skin. It wasn't hard to believe that they were related.

But for everything Matt's mother was in appearance, Mrs. Jones was everything else. Sleek, platinum blond hair was braided back into a low ponytail. Her eyes shone even bluer than Alfred's, and her skin was a carefully even shade of golden that she obviously put effort into. Her features were graceful, and even in a flowing skirt and loose top, her slender curves were obvious. Matt's mom didn't have curves—she worked too hard.

No wonder Alfred had turned out to be so handsome, with parents like these. Standing next to him, Matthew was starting to think he knew how the Ugly Duckling felt.

"Hello," he was careful to keep his tone calm and controlled, and he smiled politely. "I'm Matthew Williams." Manners told him to offer his hand, but hers were clasped behind her back, and the way she was looking at him made him worry that if he offered his hand, he might not get it back. It wasn't that she looked angry, exactly, just…cold. Kind of calculating. She was sizing him up and Matthew felt like a piece of meat.

"Elizabeth," George said quietly, his tone almost pleading, and she smiled a moment later. It didn't reach her eyes.

"Hi, Matthew. It's nice to finally meet you." Now she held her hand out, and Matthew tentatively accepted it. Her grip was firm to the point of almost being painful, like she was trying to intimidate him, and he couldn't be surprised or even confused as to why.

He'd been nervous to meet her for this exact reason. He was the proof that George had been unfaithful to her, and even though that wasn't his fault and he really had nothing to do with it, he was the physical representation of it. There was no reason for her to be friendly to him. It wasn't something he'd discussed with Alfred, because who would want to admit that their mom might be mean and nasty to their own little brother? Elizabeth wasn't being mean or nasty, but she definitely wasn't welcoming. Everything about her said cold, careful preparation and perfection. She was put together and clean. Matt had the feeling that her closet was probably organized by season and color and that not a single speck of dust was allowed in her house. How Alfred had managed to become so messy, he'd never know, but maybe that was why his older brother took so long to start cleaning up after himself. Maybe college had been freedom from an overbearing mother.

Maybe that's why George liked Mom. Maybe Mom was freedom, too.

Matthew tried not to let that thought show in his expression, and made sure his smile was genuine as the handshake continued. Now definitely wasn't the time to make her think he was judging her.

When Mrs. Jones did let go of his hand, he made sure to smile at her a little before turning his attention back to Alfred, the only person here he was actually comfortable around. "Are we going straight to school?"

"Almost. Here—let me get that." Alfred didn't wait for an answer before taking Matt's bag from him and carrying it. As a group, the four began making their way through the airport towards the sky walk that would take them to the parking garage. Skipping the baggage claim was just a perk that Matthew had been careful to plan for. Carry-on bags were easier and no way was he going to risk losing his luggage. So they didn't have to worry about the hassle of finding a suitcase amid the dozens of people already headed to the floor below.

It gave him a certain amount of pride to know he'd successfully planned ahead.

"Almost?" Matthew readjusted his backpack straps on his shoulders as they walked. "Where else are we going?"

"To get dinner." The taller blond flashed a grin. "Dad's treat to welcome you back."

"Oh." Looking back over his shoulder, the Canadian smiled at his father. "Thank you." There was genuine gratitude in his voice that Matt really hoped George and Elizabeth would pick up on. No way did he want them to think he wasn't grateful for everything they'd done for him. His passport, the plane tickets to bring him here, his tuition and housing, and now picking him up from the airport and taking him to dinner like he was part of the family.

Part of the family.

Wow, he'd never really thought of it that way, but it was the truth. This was his family. Maybe not the one he was used to, but it was a family all the same. And even though Alfred was only a half-brother, and they hadn't known each other for very long yet, he was pretty attached to the blue-eyed blond. If anything were to happen to Alfred, Matthew wasn't sure what he'd do. The only thing he was certain of was that it would be devastating to lose such a good big brother.

Matthew subconsciously drew closer to Alfred at that thought, almost wanting to reach out and touch the American, hold onto his sleeve so he wouldn't go anywhere. It was strange, this feeling of needing to be close to someone other than his mother, and really he didn't have this feeling about her. She was strong and independent, like she'd always been. There had never been a time when Matt hadn't been sure if she was going to come home or not. Her support had never been in question. But Alfred had been a pain at first. His friends had been a pain. It was surprising to think back and realize that he went from cleaning up after the older blond to fearing the day that he wouldn't be around anymore.

"So," startling Matthew out of his thoughts, Alfred slung an arm around the slightly shorter boy's shoulders and grinned, "where d'you wanna eat? This' your party, bro."

Crud. He didn't know any of the restaurants around here.

"Um, you pick." He smiled and bumped Alfred playfully. "You should get to, for coming to get me. I'm just along for the ride."

"Awww!" Tightening his arm to draw his little brother closer, Alfred ruffled Matt's hair while making sure to avoid the Canadian's curl. "You're a sweetheart, Mattie. Francis is a lucky guy," the older of the two teased, his tone making it obvious that he didn't just mean because Matthew was nice—it made the Canadian blush a little.

Even though he was smiling, Matt couldn't help but feel a spike of nervousness when he realized Alfred had said that within earshot of the adults walking behind them. He hadn't told George he was attracted to boys, and he hadn't known if Alfred was out to his parents. But if the blue-eyed college student could so casually mention Francis like that, then he must be, and they must be okay with it. At least, he hoped so. Things were going to get really awkward really fast if George and Elizabeth weren't comfortable with homosexuality.

Man, he wished Alfred could speak French so he could ask about it without the adults walking just behind them knowing. This was probably a situation most siblings found themselves in at some time or another, though maybe not about such a sensitive topic.

I'll ask him later, he decided, reassuring himself that he didn't need to worry about anything until then. Al's comment about Francis being a lucky guy had gone without comment, so chances were that George didn't care, or at least that he and Elizabeth were too polite to say anything about it. And maybe that just meant that it would be brought up later when they weren't in public, but he still wasn't going to worry about it. Geor—his dad had been perfectly kind and accepting and welcoming towards him so far, and he didn't want to spoil that for himself.

It could wait. For now, he was just going to enjoy the energetic American he'd missed so much over break.