Chapter 29: Good Morning Sunshine
Thank you YoloYaoi for drawing fanart for my story! You guys can find the link on my profile page, so go check it out right now everybody!
xoxox
Dinner was going quite smoothly, considering France was depressed, Russia was trying to keep his food away from a hungry polar bear, England was sending out waves of stick-in-the-muddiness, and America and Prussia were having a little food fight. Canada was stuck in the middle, wondering where it had all gone wrong.
"Hey bwo, dese buwgews aw awazin! Whaze secwet ingwedient?" America shouted, spitting food all over the table.
England shuddered at the display of such bad manners. France just kept picking at his food, for once not in the mood to praise his son's cooking. Russia was still too busy trying to make Kumajiro understand that the steak on his plate was not for the bear.
Prussia leant over the table, smirking evilly. "The secret ingredient is anchovies!"
America blinked three times. He looked at his burger, then back at the Prussian, then back at his burger.
"…You're joking, right?"
"Nope~"
America promptly stuffed the burger in Prussia's face, after which their battle continued.
When everyone had finished eating (Kumajiro had gotten a piece of Russia's steak after all), Canada pulled out some home-made chocolate mousse from the fridge.
"Grub's up!" America yelled, before digging in.
England had long since given up on telling him he should eat with his mouth, not his entire face. Russia simply chuckled at the sight of him enjoying it so much. Canada took Kumajiro in his lap, preventing the animal from begging for Russia's dessert as well.
Afterwards they went back to the living room to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show, a film they all enjoyed (although Russia hid his face in his scarf at the sex scenes, but this luckily went unnoticed by the other nations).
Then a problem arose: room arrangements. Canada only had his own room and one guest room, so the other two would have to sleep on the couch. Question was: who was going to sleep in the double bed?
"Me and Birdie are taking his room, of course," Prussia cackled smugly.
"Nuh uh! I don't want you two doing dirty stuff while we're here!" America huffed with crossed arms, ignoring Canada's raging blush.
"I'm sleeping anywhere but with the frog," England growled, still not having forgiven the Frenchman for his previous assault.
Russia didn't care, as long as he would be in the same room as America. Not because he couldn't be without him, but because he didn't want anyone else to sleep with his American.
"Then I'll sleep with Al, Gil and Francis share a bed, and Arthur with Ivan…?" Canada hesitantly tried. He was immediately met by a roaring NO from both Russia and England.
"I'm fine with anyone as long as Mattie doesn't sleep in the same bed as Prussia!" America stated, making his point more than clear.
"All right, then what about this?" Canada suddenly yelled, losing his temper. That was twice today, the other nations were starting to fear for his well-being. Or maybe Prussia's loudness was rubbing off on him?
"I share a room with Arthur, Francis and Gil sleep down here on the couch, and Al and Ivan share the other bed!"
They went silent for a bit, contemplating it.
"Fine, I guess," Prussia pouted, wanting to sleep with his lover of course.
France just shrugged. "I have no objections."
"Da, I agree."
"That's fine by me," England admitted. He cocked an eyebrow at America, silently asking if he would be able to endure sleeping in the same bed as the older nation.
America grinned his hero-smile. "Sure, nothing wrong with that!" On the inside he was dying.
Less than an hour later, America was lying on his side of the bed, waiting for Russia to come out of the bathroom and join him. He was very nervous, which was to be expected. The last time he and Russia had shared a bed, he couldn't sleep at all.
His muscles tensed as he heard the bathroom door open and close. Soft footsteps, a dip in the mattress, and Russia was lying next to him.
"Goodnight Alfred," Russia said softly, not noticing the other's tenseness due to his own nerves.
"'Night," America muttered back.
The lights went out and America could hear and feel the Russian positioning himself. Then things went quiet.
America waited for Russia's breathing to slow down. It didn't, although he couldn't be sure of it. The blue-eyed nation was facing the wall, so he had no idea when the Russian was going to fall asleep. He tried to make no noise as he rolled onto his other side so he could look at Russia's face.
His eyes were closed peacefully, and his chest was slowly going up and down.
"…Ivan?" America whispered, trying to speak as quietly as possible.
No response. America rapidly decided what he wanted to do.
He started slowly moving towards the Russian, stopping every time the older nation moved or took a deeper breath. He stopped at a mere inches away.
"…Vanya?" he whispered again, voice almost going unnoticed to even himself. After all, if Russia really were asleep, he didn't want to wake him up.
Still no response.
America closed the remaining distance and curled up next to his Russian. He gingerly placed his forehead against the nation's broad chest, and closed his eyes to try and catch some sleep. His eyes shot open again as Russia suddenly wrapped an arm around him.
"I-Ivan?" he yelped, adrenaline racing through his body.
Russia giggled softly. "Dear Alfred, I thought you were not one to cuddle with your friends?"
After a moment of incomprehensible stuttering, America remembered how to speak English (or American as he himself called it sometimes).
"W-well, for you I could make an exception…" he muttered, glad the darkness could hide his fierce blush.
America had no idea how happy Russia felt at hearing this. He squeezed the smaller nation a little tighter, before closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh.
"If you want to cuddle, just tell me Fedya. Now, goodnight."
"G-goodnight…"
America willed his heart to slow down. He briefly looked up to search Russia's face for any dishonesty, but when he found none, he closed his eyes as well and laid his head back on his Russian pillow. Yes, he liked sleeping like this considerably better than sleeping on the edge of the bed. At least now he wouldn't have to fight the urge to touch the taller nation.
They both fell asleep shortly afterwards, snoozing in each other's warmth.
xoxox
"…Arthur, are you still awake?"
"I am now, Matthew," a voice with a very distinct British accent sighed.
Canada hugged the polar bear close to his body.
"How are things between you and Francis?"
England let out a growl. "Good Heavens boy, not you too! Can't all of you understand that my love life is none of your business?!"
"…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Canada whispered timidly.
The British nation sighed again. "That's all right lad. Sorry for lashing out at you."
"No problem. But Arthur, I'm only worried for you. I have lived with both you and Francis, but I've never seen you so down before. It makes me wish I could help somehow."
England fell silent for a moment. Canada could see his eyes almost glowing in the dark as they were locked with the ceiling.
"I'm sorry for worrying you Matthew. I really am," he finally spoke. "It's just that I don't know what to do."
"Are you feeling confused?" the Canadian asked.
"Bloody right I'm confused!" the Brit snorted.
Canada sat up in the bed. "What are you confused about?"
England paused for a moment before slowly beginning to sit up as well. He didn't know if it was because of the darkness surrounding them or because he was talking to Canada, but the nation suddenly felt like sharing his thoughts.
"Well, first of all, it's France! The frogface is a pervert, he flirts with everyone, he can't keep his hands to himself… He's France, what more need I say?"
Canada remained silent, letting the Brit relieve the weight on his shoulders.
"All we do is fight! I've known the guy for ages, and not a century has passed without us bickering! How is anyone supposed to be in a relationship with someone like that? And then all that nonsense about Alfred…"
Canada tilted his head. "What about Al?"
England snorted. "Bloody wanker's got it into his head that I'm in love with America of all nations! Me! With Alfred Foster fucking Jones! Please, I've practically raised the kid!"
Canada chuckled, but didn't make any noise otherwise. He was sure that not everybody would see a problem with that (seeing as they were countries, not humans), but he just couldn't fathom the Englishman loving his obnoxious brother.
"And then-" England cut himself short.
Canada waited for the nation to continue. When nothing came, he quietly asked: "What is it Arthur?"
England turned to look him in the eye. Vivid green clashed with smooth mauve. And for the first time in his existence, Canada felt older than the Brit. For from what little he could see of England's face, it just read embarrassment, insecurity and maybe a little anxiety.
"I-I… I don't know how to love."
Canada didn't move a muscle, fearing he would push the Brit into defence. He didn't want him to close up again, not now that he was finally being so open with him.
"H-honestly. I wouldn't have a clue. I mean, sure I've been in plenty of those sort of relationships-" Canada knew exactly what England meant by those relationships. "-but I've never actually loved anyone before." England chuckled darkly. "Who would love me anyway? I'm a grumpy old man, I'm a former hoodlum, I'm the black sheep of Europe, I'm shorter than a lot of other nations, I'm not the most muscular around, I swear continuously, people think I am insane, nobody ever takes me serious, and all I ever seem to do right is push people away from me."
England hadn't noticed he was crying until Canada reached out a hanky. He gratefully took it.
"S-sorry lad… You must think of me as a complete fool. An old man blubbering his heart out is not appropriate in the slightest."
Canada gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Francis does."
England froze, still holding the handkerchief. His emerald green eyes slowly looked up at the Canadian.
"What's that Matthew?"
"I said Francis loves you. Me and Alfred do too, only not in a romantic way. But Francis definitely loves you, more than he would ever show. Don't be so hard on yourself Arthur. There is plenty to love in you. You're funny, you're kind, you tell amazing bedtime stories, and sorry if it sounds wrong coming out of my mouth, but you're incredibly good-looking. So please, don't you dare ever speak so badly of yourself again."
Tears were flooding out of the Brit's eyes as Canada wrapped his arms around him.
"Th-thank you Matthew," he wailed.
The Canadian smiled. He was getting better and better at comforting others.
"Arthur… You may not like it, but I think you should talk with Francis. Just tell him that you don't know, he'll understand. Maybe it'll take away some of the confusion, eh? But I just can't stand seeing you two like this, so something has to change."
England nodded into his shoulder, too tired to argue. Maybe the younger nation was right, maybe talking would solve things.
England hoped it would.
xoxox
"What do you mean Iggy and Francis already left?" America asked after arriving downstairs.
Prussia shrugged. "Francis left really early, saying he still had work to do."
"And when Arthur heard he was gone, he left as well," Canada added from behind the stove. He of course knew the real reason behind England's sudden disappearing, but that was private business between him and the Brit.
"Huh," was America's intellectual answer.
"Dobroe utro!" Russia chirruped as he entered the kitchen, after which he sat down on the nearest chair.
"Morning Ivan!" Canada answered.
Prussia simply gave him a cocky grin/glare, before feeding Gilbird some birdseeds. Kumajiro came strolling into the kitchen as well, and the cub immediately went over to Russia.
"Food," it said.
"Why do you always want my food?" Russia asked the cub after allowing it to crawl into his lap.
Kumajiro stared at him with beady black eyes.
"I like you," it stated.
Russia blinked a few times, and then hid his face in his scarf to hide a happy smile.
"Are those pancakes I smell?" the American inquired, taking in the scent.
"Yup!"
Canada swatted Prussia's hand away as he tried to tear off a piece.
"Wait till it's done Gil!" he scolded, but his eyes shone playfully.
America watched them warily, still not liking the way things had turned out between the two of them. He had no idea why, but something about 'Prussia', 'Canada' and 'boyfriend' in the same sentence made his hair stand on edge. But as long as Prussia didn't openly do anything wrong against his brother, he couldn't act. So he would just have to go with the flow.
Suddenly, he felt a hand in his hair. He looked to the side, and almost jumped out of his chair when he all but brushed noses with Russia.
"I-Ivan?" he squeaked. His face immediately started burning.
But then Russia moved back, holding a little fluff in his hand.
"There was dust in your hair, da? I removed it." He smiled at the American, and then returned to the cub in his lap that was begging for his attention.
America looked at the other two nations in the room. Prussia was sending him a knowing mien, smirking smugly. The look on Canada's face was unreadable.
His brother turned off the stove and marched over to him.
"We need to talk," he hissed, before pulling America out of his chair and dragging him to his room. After closing the door, he pinned the American to the wall.
"Alfred, you hypocrite!" he shouted, which sounded like speaking on a regular level to most others.
America swallowed. "Wha-what do you mean Mattie?" he asked in a tiny voice.
"You know very well what I mean! You distrust me with Gilbert, but then you don't tell me shit when you hook up with Ivan!"
America tried to calm his brother down, ignoring the blush that was now painting his entire body.
"Matt, you've got it all wrong! Ivan's not my boyfriend!"
Canada's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Don't lie to me Alfred! We all saw how you reacted when he almost kissed you!"
America hung his head. "He wouldn't kiss me in that way…"
Canada raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"
America swallowed the lump in his throat. "…In a romantic way. Kissing is… For Ivan, kissing is something friends do."
The Canadian paused at seeing the way his brother was acting now.
"…Alfred, do you mean that you wish he would kiss you? In a romantic way?"
America shyly looked up, playing with the zipper of his sweater. He looked like a kid that had to confess to his parents that he had done something wrong.
"Do you think that's weird?" he hesitantly asked.
Canada let go of him, no longer pushing him against the wall.
"No Al, I don't think it's weird. Russia isn't as bad as everyone gives him credit for. Tell me, how long has this been going on?"
America shrugged and looked at the ground. "Dunno. Quite some time, but it took a while for me to notice it."
Canada's expression changed into a sympathetic one.
"I wish you would've told me, Al. You know you can talk to me about these things."
"Thanks Mattie," America softly said.
Canada looked at the door, as if expecting someone to be there.
"And you're sure Ivan doesn't want to kiss you because he likes you?"
America nodded. "He even said so himself. For him, kissing is normal between friends."
Canada gave his brother a short hug. "Sorry Al."
"That's okay. I'm the hero, I can take it," America said with a crooked grin.
The gentle nation smiled.
"Let's go to the kitchen again. I hope Gilbert hasn't eaten all of the pancakes."
"He wouldn't dare!" America growled, before taking his brother by the hand and storming down the stairs.
Canada giggled. "Ready for a double-date?"
"Mattieeeeeeee, don't make me think about that!" America whined.
xoxox
Anchovies in hamburgers are actually pretty yummy.
