Eh, guys, I'm sorry for taking this chapter down and then taking forever to repost it. The ending was bugging me, so I made it better and longer. So voila! I hope you all like this chapter better than before!

Chapter 37-

Matthew had always hated dressing up, no matter the occasion. He couldn't stand putting on a bowtie that would ultimately strangle him all night, and hated dress shirts. Adding a stuffy jacket, too-tight vest, and patching pants only made matters worse.

But what was truly worst of all was having to watch Francis's nervous twitching behind each of his smiles and polite gestures.

The restaurant they were at was a very lovely place, Matthew noted. The entire building seemed awash with golden hues and glittering diamond accents to scream elegance. Everyone was dressed accordingly as well, themselves included. Therese and Michelle were like Aphrodite clones (Matthew had been hanging around Mr. Simmons, their English teacher, and Mr. Karpusi too much it seemed). Both of them wore stunning green dresses that sparkled and shimmered in the chandelier light, and they wore identical, intricate hairstyles. Really, the only difference between the two besides their age was that Therese wore a pearl necklace and Michelle had a diamond necklace that had a… fish on it?

No way. There was not a fish on her necklace in the middle of a classy four star restaurant. She could not be that obsessed with fish and fishing.

But Matthew knew it had to be. It was her favorite necklace and she wore it everywhere, so he knew it well.

It had taken Francis a good ten minutes to stop complimenting them. Matthew knew exactly, because he spent the entire time reading the thousands of texts Alfred had sent him. Something just seemed… off about Alfred. He was surprisingly halfway polite, and had actually wished him luck with dealing everything. Like he really cared about him when everything about his life were currently in shambles. Matthew almost expected Arthur to have finally arrived, and he had caused Alfred's attitude to shoot through the roof with happiness. Of course, something like that wouldn't have been ignored momentarily for Alfred to talk to Matthew. No, if Arthur had really come back, Alfred wouldn't have paid anyone any attention. It would have been all about him again.

But that didn't mean Matthew didn't have a smile on his face when he realized that Alfred was trying, in that weird, unorthodox way of his, to apologize for being an all-around jerk to everyone. Matthew had forgiven him ages ago for punching him and breaking his glasses. Not even that could make Matthew hold a grudge.

"And what will you have, sir?" a voice at his ear asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Matthew politely smiled up at the waiter. "The House Special, please." After nodding and moving on to Michelle, Matthew nervously tugged at his bowtie. Ugh, he hated the things. It was entirely too stuffy in here.

The waiter left, and more awkward conversation ensued. When Therese started to fake laugh too, Matthew had to shove the groan back down his throat. Why couldn't Francis have just proposed somewhere… less public? Somewhere where they all wouldn't have to care about being awkward. Matthew wished he was back home making pancakes. The world's problems could be solved over a plate of buttery, smothered-in-maple-syrup pancakes.

…Matthew had never felt more like Lovino, so apathetic and willing to eat to forget his problems. It was a very disheartening thought.

A hand suddenly popped up in front of his nose. Matthew flinched back in shock, snapping his head around to his father. Francis chuckled, leaning his chin on his palm. "You're wandering off again, Matthew."

He gave a quiet laugh. "Sorry, Papa." His smile faltered just the tiniest bit, bringing back the awkward. Did Francis really have to wait until after they ate? Why couldn't he propose right now, and eat to celebrate?

It was too hot in there. As soon as attention was directed away from him again, Matthew let out a silent sigh, this time tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. Dinner was going to last forever at this rate. It wasn't until they got their food that Matthew realized he was the fidgeting, not Francis. He also realized that no one else felt as stuffy as he did.

So that meant he was freaking out over nothing, and their waiter was probably getting tired of handing him refills of his drink every time he walked in their general vicinity.

I really am one of those snotty kids who's afraid of a step-mom, aren't I?

The thought almost caused him to frown. However, he refused to let his lips turn down. That would ruin everything, if Francis noticed. He'd feel guilty and call it all off because of Matthew. Matthew couldn't do that to his father! For once, he had actually found a woman he liked who liked him back, and things were wonderful. Therese was just amazing, and Matthew knew he should be thankful that she was going to be his mother instead of someone else. There's no way she would ever turn out to be a fabled evil step-mother. Matthew wasn't Cinderella, now or ever.

Still, he couldn't stop himself from freaking out.

That's it. Enough's enough.

I'm calling Alfred.

((((()))))

"You're in… Chuck E. Cheese's."

"Peter wouldn't shut his bloody pie hole until we stopped," Arthur grumbled over the phone. His sigh was almost muffled by the blaring shouts in the background. Alfred could pick out Peter's obnoxiously happy crowing within the crowd.

A grin unfurled itself on his face. "Sounds like you're having fun. Hey, will you take me to-"

"No."

Alfred shrugged, the smirk growing when Samantha erupted into snickers, so carefully hidden by her hand. "Worth a shot. Anyway, Ivan came back! We saw him at Red Flower. Natalya didn't try to rip my head off, so I guess she was happy for once. Her smile is a neutral face. She's almost as bad as Anna."

Another sigh. However, this one seemed on the verge of turning into a groan. "Alfred, I've told you a thousand times not to bother the poor girl and- No, Peter! I've already given you all my change! You've played enough silly games! Do you want to make it home any time this month? I'm not made of money- STOP LAUGHING, SAMANTHA!"

"Sorry, Artie, but it's pretty pathetic that you're letting a- what, eight or nine-year-old?- drag you all over creation, while we're hosting a hamburger contest. Whoever makes the best gets dibs on the TV remote for a solid five hours."

Arthur was silent for a moment. Then: "Good God, woman. What were you thinking? I'm going to come back home and find everyone dead on the streets!"

"HEY, MY HAMBURGERS ARE AWESOME."

"HIS HAMBURGERS ARE AWESOME," Samantha also shouted into the phone. "Except, you know, mine are ten times better."

"Excuse me, Mother?"

"You heard me, kid."

Amidst their arguing, Arthur's yelling at Peter to get a move on, and Peter's insults in response to Arthur's yelling, Alfred's phone began beeping with a fury. It took a while to calm them all down. "Oh, it's Mattie," Alfred announced. "I'll you back in a minute, Dad."

Before he could get in a goodbye, Alfred switched calls. He spun on his heel, walking out of the kitchen. "Hey, Mattie! What's up? Is Therese Mrs. Bonnefoy yet?"

"...Je te hais, Alfred."

He blinked, cutting his walk to the couch short. "…What?"

"It's not important," Matthew said curtly, voice laced with a sigh. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor. Think you could, um… come to Beckley's? Please?"

That was a good hour's drive away. But Alfred flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at Samantha. He put his hand over the receiver end of his phone. "Mattie's a terrible, horrible pickle and he needs me to come get him out of it because he's a wimp and I'm awesome. Can I go?"

Samantha shrugged, completely nonplussed about traveling an hour down the road to ship her son off at a fancy restaurant. Certainly not the most eccentric, random thing she'd ever done. "Sure. Give me half an hour to get ready. I need to do something to my hair."

"Okay! We'll be there by eight. Think you can hold out for that long?" Alfred burst. He skipped back over to the fridge and got out all of his hamburger making supplies. Matthew would need one in order to cope with the horrible fancy food Francis was torturing him with. After all, hamburgers were true cuisine- especially Alfred's!

Matthew almost sounded panicked. "I-I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Are you sure there's no other way you can come a bit sooner…?"

"I don't think so. No! Wait a minute! Earlier today, when we were all at Red Flower, I heard Katyusha tell Ivan that she'd take him out somewhere to go shopping. If she hasn't left yet, I'll ask if I can go with them. They should be ready to go by now," Alfred explained. He stuffed his supplies back into the fridge. "Hey, Mom! Can I go with Ivan and Katyusha?"

"Call them first!" she shouted back. "But sure!"

Alfred could practically see Matthew rubbing his abused ear. "Sorry," he apologized. "I'm gonna call them, okay? I'll see you soon. Don't instantaneously combust out there before I arrive."

"I'll try not to."

((((()))))

Katyusha always looked concerned about something, but tonight, it was down right stuttering worry. "Y-you're sure you want to get out here?" she repeated for the fiftieth time. "I-it's a long way to the mall and Matthew. Grigori can wait, can't he?"

Even though Alfred had spent the past hour annoyed and bored out of his mind, he had to admit it was funny to see both Ivan and his crazy huge dog frown and whine. If he pretended hard enough, he would almost believe that the hour-long ride had been entertaining. However, Alfred wasn't very good at imagining things while his background noise was complaints and anxious droning. "But he's been such a good guard dog, keeping stupid Alfred away from Natalya!"

It was true. When Alfred so much as looked in Natalya's general direction, the husky would give him a menacing growl, which, he refused to admit aloud, was really creepy. What was worst of all, Natalya cracked a mirthless smile every time Alfred would yelp in response to one of the dog's nasty looks.

Maybe he should have waited and gone with Samantha.

Katyusha finally sighed, pulling over to the side of the road. She shut everything off in silence, biting her lip as she did so. "I still have a bad feeling," Katyusha muttered. She turned to Ivan with tears in her eyes. "Please be careful?"

"I have Grigori and Alfred with me."

"Yeah! Hear that, Natalya? Even your brother thinks I'm a hero and-"

Ivan cleared his throat, cutting Alfred's boasting short. "I was about to say that you would make an excellent meat shield for me. While you… distracted them with your obnoxiousness, Grigori and I would run away." He pleasantly grinned to himself. Alfred had the sinking suspicion that Ivan was imagining his pained screams as he was imaginatively torn apart. He wouldn't admit this either, but Alfred shivered. Something had been off about Ivan since he came back. Alfred wasn't sure what it was, but his heebie-jeebie spidey senses had never failed him before.

As Alfred thankfully hopped out of Katyusha's truck, he caught Natalya looking at him. He ignored Grigori's snarl long enough to give her a thumb's up. "I'll be a good meat shield. But only after the dog gets it first."

Natalya's eyes flickered to Katyusha, who was twittering on again to Ivan, and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make fun of Ivan's dog," she growled, sounding just as dangerous as the husky. But Alfred merely smiled. Honestly, it almost cute how she sounded so completely evil all the time. He knew Natalya wasn't nearly as maniacal as she tried to make herself out to be. After the breakdown he'd seen, Alfred was convinced that she was just trying to protect herself. Too bad she didn't realize that Alfred was always willing to be that shoulder for her to cry on.

He chuckled, stealing a quick hug that made her freeze up. "I won't. And I'll make sure Ivan isn't mugged for his shoes or something. Thank you for driving me, Ms. Braginski."

She instantly switched back to being as happy as she had been when Alfred asked to come with them. "Any time, Alfred! And come on, you know you can call me Katyusha!" The murderous glare Ivan cast him certainly said otherwise. Forcing the yelp back down his throat, Alfred waved goodbye and ran to meet Ivan, wasting no time in following Grigori down the street.

It was surprisingly warm out on the streets of the city. Alfred hoped that the freezing December weather had been all the winter they were going to get this season, and that spring and summer would come quickly. After all, everything terrible had happened with snow (or, in the wreck's case, rain).

Surely this was a sign that bad things were over, right?

"Alfred!"

He let out a screech, melding himself into a karate stance he'd learned from TV. "I KNOW KUNG FU!" Alfred shouted. Across the street, standing in the flashy lights of Berkley's, Matthew palmed himself. Ivan was muttering to himself in Russian, and Grigori looked like he'd be doing the same if he could talk. Everyone else on the streets… well, Alfred frankly didn't care if they stared at him like that.

The boys met each other half way. Alfred could tell from the way Matthew joked, "Didn't know you turned into Keanu Reeves over night." that he was seriously freaking out. Usually Matthew's jokes didn't have an ounce of funny in them. That one was almost decent. Alfred gaped. "Oh, geez, Mattie, don't tell me she said no."

Matthew blinked. Then he furiously shook his head. "No! He hasn't even asked her yet, and it's killing me, Alfred! I can't stay in there. Papa's cracking jokes that are worse than Arthur's."

"That's pretty bad."

"Exactly."

Alfred snapped his fingers impatiently, herding them over to a bench. "Come on, Braginski. I need you to help me be Oprah for the next several minutes."

Matthew wanted to protest, but stopped himself. That was exactly why he'd called Alfred, wasn't it? To once again push his problems on him? A new kind of guilt slammed into him. He was always so dependent on Alfred, wasn't he?

While Ivan wandered around, exploring the area with Grigori, Alfred fished an ink pen from his coat and grabbed an imaginary notepad. "Alright, Matthew. Tell me how this makes you feel."

Though he didn't know for sure, Matthew was almost positive that Oprah was not a psychiatrist. He was definitely sure that a psychiatrist wasn't what he needed. "Like I'm being a spoiled brat?" he deadpanned with a tired huff, leaning his chin on his palms. "Alfred, seriously. You're the only one I could call for this. Can't you make up some inspirational speech about how wonderful change is?"

"Oh, so you want me to be Obama, not Oprah? Make up your mind, man!"

Alfred smirked in triumph at getting a chuckle out of him, even if it was awfully unenthusiastic. The boy laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the night sky. The stars were bright enough to be seen tonight, even with the street lamps angrily blaring in the way. The moon was fully illuminated too. Honestly, Alfred thought that tonight would have been bright enough to walk in without the street lights on.

"Hey, Mattie?" Alfred asked, his voice softer. "You really miss Jeanne, right?"

The answer was obvious. He nodded anyway, his eyes locking onto the busy street.

"What do you think she'd think about all this? I mean, with Francis and stuff. Think she'd be happy he's finally stepping out?" Alfred paused a moment, looking over at Matthew to gauge his reaction. His sullen look had turned into a thoughtful one. He reverted his gaze back to the stars with a faint grin. "I personally think she'd angry that he hadn't found someone earlier. Jeanne always wanted the best for people, didn't she? I kinda remember when she'd tuck us into bed and say our nighttime prayers with us."

There was nothing halfhearted about the smile on Matthew's face now. "'God bless Papa, Mama, Arthur,….'"

"…Antonio, Aria, Lovino, Feliciano…."

"Gilbert, Helda, Ludwig."

"Roderich, Elizabeta, Heilrich."

"Alice and Lars."

"Matthew…."

"…And Alfred."

They both finished the prayer together: "And lead us one day to heaven, to be with You there. Alléluia, nous vous remercions Dieu. Amen."

It took them both a while to stop laughing- so childishly innocent they'd both been back then. Everything was so different now. It made Alfred wonder where everything had begun to change, and who the change started with. But none of that mattered now. He'd sulk about that later. For now, he was busy making things right. "See?" Alfred grinned after he was sure Matthew's mood had lifted just the tiniest bit. "This is how Jeanne would want to see you. Smiling like the sap you are."

Matthew couldn't even find a retort. Instead, he shook his head. "Thank you, Alfred. Do you think you could give Papa a pep talk next?"

"Sorry buddy," Alfred apologized, jumping up to his feet, "but I'm all out of sagely wisdom for tonight. But you know you could always tell him Jeanne wants to kick him in the butt for being so lame in front of Therese. Putting shame to Frenchmen everywhere like that, commitment problems or no." Suddenly, after a quick look around, Alfred's eyebrows furrowed. "Where'd Braginski go?"

"Ivan?" Matthew asked, just as surprised. He'd been there just seconds ago, walking around aimlessly to wherever Grigori led him next. "He was just-"

But Alfred wasn't listening, panic shadowing his face. "He left me! How am I supposed to save his butt from danger and get Natalya to like me if he isn't here?"

This was not good. Alfred's afternoon plans hadn't just included brightening Matthew's day- it had also involved heroically saving the Stupid Commie Russian Freak (known to everyone else as Ivan) and thus winning over his sister! Because if Alfred didn't convince her that she was madly in love with her, when school started back, Toris would ask the SCRF- hey, if I add an "A" in there, it'll spell SCARF!- all about Natalya. Since he liked Toris- geez, poor guy- there was a good chance Natalya would like him too.

And if Natalya liked him….

Alfred had to find Ivan right away.

"I gotta run, Mattie," Alfred spewed, hastily waving goodbye. Without waiting for his okay, the brunette turned and ran down the street and out of sight, swallowed by the crowd.

"Wait, Alfred! You can't just run off… down the street by yourself," Matthew ended in a sigh. He fell back against the brick wall of Berkley's and ran a hand through his hair. Only Alfred could ruin such a moment because of his silly superhero act. Matthew took a deep breath. If he stayed outside any longer, Francis would start to freak out. Another excuse.

Matthew wasn't about to give it to him. Steeling his own nerves, now sure that this was definitely right, he walked back into the restaurant.

((((()))))

Ivan was surprised to find a soft grin on his face. In confusion, he blinked, and it went away. How silly random smiles were. Before everything that had happened to him, Ivan wouldn't have had second thoughts about being cheerful. He had always been cheerful, polite, and as nice as possible. After all, Katyusha was happy and kind, so Ivan had tried his best to be the same. But now, he wasn't so sure if that was necessarily normal. Not that he was normal. Ivan was as strange as they came- aside from Feliks, of course, but the Pole was in an entirely different category of strange.

The sounds of fast cars and noisy people faded into a quiet stillness that made Ivan feel better. He did not like the loudness. It made his head hurt. Ivan reached down and scratched behind Grigori's ears. "Good boy," he chuckled, "taking care of me like this." And that too was true. Grigori was always looking out for him since Morozko had found him and given Grigori to Ivan. Grigori was the best friend he had. Toris and Eduard hadn't even talked to him, and Matthew had been too bothered to truly talk to him aside from a "Hello! Welcome back, Ivan!"

What was that even supposed to mean? Welcome back? Ivan wasn't coming back from a vacation. Being driven halfway across the country hadn't exactly been enjoyable. "Maybe the voice was right, Grigori," Ivan mumbled, his grip on the dog's leash tightening. "Maybe… maybe they really are afraid of me. I don't want them to be friends with me because I scare them into it. I want them to be friends because they like me- like you like me, Grigori."

He stopped walking altogether. That wasn't exactly true. He'd forgotten to add Yao onto his list of friends. He'd been so nice at Red Flower, offering to help him like that. And he supposed he should add his sisters as well. Katyusha and Natalya had been very excited to see him, hugging him so tight and crying. "They're wonderful," Ivan told his dog wearily. "They're so lovely. But I lied to them. I broke my promise to them…." He felt himself choking up, could see that his vision was starting to blur. Ivan rubbed his arm across his eyes. He hated crying. Thus, he decided to never cry again.

Now not crying, Ivan mentally changed subject away from his guilt. He narrowed his eyes at the crowded area he'd came from. Alfred sure was taking a long time talking. Figures, with that fat mouth of his. Alfred always seemed to be talking- to Ludwig, to Kiku, to Lovino, to Matthew, to anyone and everyone. Like they all loved him and wanted him to grace them with his presence.

Ivan found himself scowling. Stupid Alfred, always so noisy. He'd give Ivan a headache too with all of his boasting and shouting. I'm the hero! is what he told everyone. Ivan scoffed. Heroes were for fairytales, like Cinderella. They never come true.

"There you are, man!"

And speak of the devil….

Hiding his irritation well, Ivan turned to meet Alfred, running up to him. He met his obnoxious happy face with a slight frown. Alfred nodded back to whence he'd come. "Mattie's good to go. Ready to head to your sisters? Hey, why'd you come all the back in here?" he suddenly asked, as if just noticing they were in the darker, quieter part of town.

Alfred shivered, eyes growing wide as they darted around. "This is where the boogey men live!" he whispered furiously. "We have to hurry and go!"

Ivan couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Silly Alfred, boogey men don't exist."

"How do you know?" Alfred demanded in all seriousness.

Wondering if they were really having this kind of conversation, Ivan shook his head. "Boogey men are fictitious characters thought up by parents to scare their children with. They are the things of legend and story, Alfred, like your superheroes."

"SUPERHEROES ARE TOO REAL!"

Ivan winced at Alfred's booming shout. No longer hiding his annoyance, Ivan let the glares fly. Alfred didn't even care, nor did he pay attention. He was ranting on about how Captain America and his sidekick Bucky had been proud additions to World War II. Then, after arguing that it was thanks to Captain America that the Axis met their end, Alfred began speaking of Tony Stark- this "Iron Man". What kind of hero ran around in an iron suit? It was hardly convenient, technology or no. It would have been far too heavy to move around in. And today's technology was not nearly as advanced as Mr. Starks!

Sadly, when Ivan turned and walked away, Alfred followed. "Looks like we're going to have loud unwanted company, Grigori," Ivan muttered.

Alfred paused his story about the Green Lantern long enough to ask, "Who're you talking to, dude?"

"I did not speak a word, Alfred."

"Oh. Sorry. Could've sworn you'd said something like-"

He was cut off by a shrill scream. Alfred and Ivan's heads snapped to the left. In front of an old shop, now closed at this late hour, stood an old woman, clutching tightly at her purse. A man with a covered face had the other end of her purse.

Alfred's eyes narrowed dangerously. "A-Alfred," Ivan lowly warned, "I do not think it's best if we-"

"HEY!" Alfred shouted anyway. "Hey, you can't just take her purse! COME BACK HERE WITH THAT!"

"ALFRED!" Ivan burst, breaking into a run after him. Stupid, stupid Alfred! Heroes weren't real! He was not a hero! They were FAKE!

"You fool, you're going to get yourself stabbed or something!"

His warning fell on deaf ears too late.

Translations

French-

...Je te hais, Alfred- …I hate you, Alfred

Alléluia, nous vous remercions Dieu.- Hallelujah, we thank you God.