I know I said sleeping in the guest bed at Oliver's house was a magical experience, but there was something even better about sleeping in Francis and Arthur's guest room. Well, I suppose it could be mine now. But I also remember the last guest room that became mine. Technically, it was attached to Oliver's room to probably keep a better eye on me. We weren't thinking about that anymore. One day, I'll be able to deal with what happened in the healthiest way possible. For now, though, we suppress the shit out of it.
A warm body pressed against my back and an arm pulled me closer. Never in a million years did I think I'd be waking up in Allen's arms, yet here I am. I guess he wasn't joking when he said he wasn't leaving my side last night. However, as sweet as this was, I was hotter than hell and needed to piss like a racehorse. The cuddles were nice, but in the right context. Besides, at the end of the day, Allen was still my brother. Slowly, but surely, I peeled his arm off me. Thank you, Allen. I know you would've killed for something like this after you got away from Oliver, but I get to pee in a big girl potty for a change. I'm going to do it.
Once I got out of the bathroom, a sweet smell hit my nose. And more…Cinnamon, maybe? Definitely vanilla. My stomach dropped to my feet. No. It can't be him. He wouldn't dare show his face around here. Would he? Not in front of my birth parents. Not in front of Francois. And sure as fuck not in front of Allen. Those two had history that I knew one of them wanted to forget about. No. Relax, Amy. Oliver's not here. He's not going to be. I'm ok.
Still, I treaded lightly into the kitchen and saw a man at the stove. He kind of looked like Alfred from the back. Only a little softer and with longer hair. So, that was the culprit. Whoever he was, his cooking smelled fantastic. I took a seat at the island in the kitchen and waited to see how long it would take for him to notice I'm here. Minutes went by and he never turned. Not once. Not to get anything or to turn anything on or off. He stood at the stove. Alright. The quiet was maddening. I had to do something about it.
"Hi…" I spoke softly. Just because he didn't realize I was there didn't mean I wanted to scare the shit out of him.
"Oh…" he jumped a bit, turning around. When I finally saw his face, every part of me wanted to run up to him and hug him. He seemed so sweet, "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"No," I settled him, "You're fine. What's your name?"
"I'm Mattie," he introduced himself.
"Wait," I gasped, "You're Mattie?"
"I know," he giggled to himself. Oh my god, I adore him, "Most people think I'm Alfred. That is, if they see me at all."
I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I got up from my barstool and threw myself into Mattie's chest, hugging him tight. Yep. Just as I imagined it'd be. He's like hugging a marshmallow. And I loved it, "It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Mattie."
"Not that the hug isn't nice," Mattie asked, "But who are you?"
"I'm Amy," I clarified, sitting back down, "I mean…Amelia, but if you call me Amelia, I may have to hit you. I'm Alfred and Allen's sister."
"I've heard all about you!" he chimed, yet barely spoke over a whisper, "If you're Allen and Alfred's sister, in a way, you're mine, too."
"I suppose so." I think I'm going to like it here.
"Are you ok?" Mattie worried, "Along with hearing about you, I heard about what happened with…"
"Yeah," I cut him off, totally not wanting to go down that route this early in the morning, "I'm fine. At least, I will be. Eventually. We'll see what years of therapy can do when I'm ready for it."
"That must have been awful," he winced, "I know Papa can be overbearing sometimes, but he'd never get that bad."
"Hey, Mattie," I quickly changed the subject before I started spewing about Oliver, "You're…Canada…Aren't you?"
"That's right," Mattie nodded.
"So," I figured, "You're Matt's brother?"
"That's right," he confirmed, "Have you met Matt already?"
"And Allen," I nodded, "They've both scammed me out of coffee a time or two because they're little shits."
"What?" I might as well have punched Mattie's puppy, "I'm so sor…"
"No," I stopped him, "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."
"Yeah, but…"
"Then, that's the end of that," I smiled a little, "Besides, that was at my old job. I did end up paying for them in the end, though."
"But," Mattie went on, "I am sorry that Matt can be kind of an asshole sometimes. It's part of his charm. It's the same thing with Francois. They can both be…really exasperating."
"I like Matt, though," I admitted, "Francois, too. I mean, Francois was the one that brought me here, so I can't exactly hate him. And Matt has saved me from Francois before, so…Deep down in their cores, I think they have the potential in them to be good people."
"That's sweet of you, Amy," he awed, "You're right. Matt can be a sweetheart when he wants to be. Especially if he's not denying his medication that day."
Wow. That apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? Before the conversation could get sad, I glanced over Mattie's shoulder, "What are you making?"
"Pancakes," Mattie flipped another one, "Papa always complains when I don't make crepes, but there's something special about pancakes. You can't binge eat pancakes and still feel like you haven't eaten anything, eh? There's not enough substance to crepes. When I was younger and Papa would make crepes for breakfast, I'd always stack mine."
"You still do," Francis joined us.
"Morning, Papa," Mattie's face lit up.
"Good morning, petite," Francis kissed his cheek, only to do the same to me shortly after, "And good morning to you, too, cheri."
"Morning, Francis," I melted inside.
"Did you sleep well?" Francis took the empty stool next to me.
"For the most part, yeah," I nodded, "Allen wouldn't leave me alone, but he's a little protective of me. I'm not surprised. I wouldn't be shocked that if Alfred were here, too, I would've been sandwiched between them."
"That is one thing about them," Francis admitted, "Once they find one of their own, they hold on and they will keep you safe. I'm glad they've ingratiated you into the family so quickly."
"I had a world history class with Allen before I met any of the others," I pointed out, "Even then, he had a soft spot for me."
"It's because he likely knew," Francis assumed, "You do look strikingly like your brother on our side of the family, Amy. If Alfred let his hair grow out, shrunk about six inches, and wasn't flat chested."
"Very nice," I held my face in my hands, "Hey, you guys wouldn't happen to have any coffee, would you?"
"There's a bag of beans to the right of the stove," Mattie directed me, "But they'll have to be ground."
"Grinder's in the island," Francis reached over and opened the cabinet.
"What about a milk steamer?" I crossed my fingers, "You have to have one of those, too."
"It's next to the coffee grinder."
My heart started racing. It's worth a shot, "And a French press?"
Francis got up and hugged me tight, "There. French press."
"Not that kind of French press," I giggled, "An actual French press. You're silly, Francis."
"Your father calls it annoying," Francis laughed with me, "But at the end of the day, I know he secretly loves it, too. The French press is down there, too."
"What do you need all that stuff for, Amy?" Mattie asked, "Why can't you just use the coffee pot?"
"Honestly, Matthew," Francis let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, "Have I not taught you better?"
"I need to make my coffee," I explained, "And I need to do it right. I haven't been able to make a decent cup of coffee in ages. Oliver didn't like me having caffeine in my body. Hell, he didn't even like me drinking coffee as a whole. I told you about Matt and Allen scamming coffee from me, Mattie. That's because I used to work in a coffee shop before Oliver probably had it shut down."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because," I went on, "If I had an income, that meant me not being totally dependent on him."
"Oliver does have some demons," Francis agreed, "But go on, Amy. Be my guest. My French press is your French press."
"Thank you," I stood on my toes and reached into the upper cabinet for the coffee beans. Unfortunately, I couldn't reach, so logic told me to climb onto the counter. Yet again, damn my shortness. Mattie took another pancake out of the pan and reached up with ease, grabbing the coffee beans for me, "Fucking show off."
"I'm sorry, Amy," Mattie chuckled under his breath, "It's alright that you're small. All you had to do was ask. I would've gladly gotten them from you."
"Thank you," I opened up the bag and took a ten second inhale. Hello, old friend. How I've missed you so, "Hey, Francis?"
"Oui, cheri," Francis perked up, "What is it?"
"Whose ass am I kicking for making me short?" I pouted, jumping down from the counter.
"Do you see these dancer's legs?" Francis scoffed, kicking his leg up onto the island, "Do you really think you'd get the short gene from me?"
"Dammit, Arthur," I grumbled.
"That doesn't really make any sense either," Francis thought it over, "Because the only other short one in the family is Dylan. Scott and Ciarán aren't exactly small."
"And who are they?" I asked, "In the grand scheme of things, if I'm considered America?"
"Wales, Scotland, and Ireland," Francis clarified, "They're your uncles on your father's side."
"Uncle Dylan's a good guy," Mattie chimed in, "He used to play with me all the time when I was little."
"That's because you and Uncle Dylan have something in common," Francis rested his head in his hand, "You're both overshadowed by your older siblings. With Dylan, it's Arthur and Scott and Ciarán. With you, it's Alfred. That's why he took such a shine to you, cheri. That and you're just so damn cute."
"Papa…" Mattie hid his face. His quickly reddening face. He is adorable.
I let those two get into their petty squabble. I had more…pressing matters to attend to. I hate myself for making that joke, but we're going to roll with it. My coffee wasn't going to make itself and my ass was already dragging. I didn't need that kind of negativity in my life. It's been weeks since I've been able to construct a good latte and I'll be damned if I don't get one in my veins in the next ten minutes. And I knew if I made one, I'd have to make at least three more. Mattie had a glass of orange juice next to the stove and Francis hadn't gotten up from the island. Going by my deduction, he's waiting on coffee, too.
Might as well, right? Carefully, I poured four cups of coffee. If my logic is correct here, Allen's going to want one. Francois is going to need one more than anyone. Francis may want one (he's got all the shit for making a damn good cup of coffee. There's no way he doesn't drink it.). And if Arthur is anything like Oliver (which, I'm praying to all things holy, it's only in good ways.), he's going to want tea over coffee. I threw some milk in the steamer and got to work. My best time is a little over two minutes. Let's see if I can beat it.
"Morning, Ames," Allen came in and kissed my cheek.
"Morning," I stayed focused on my task at hand. It's really too bad Francis didn't have an espresso machine. I'd kill for some of that, too. My usual coffee was an iced Americano, but unfortunately, I lack the espresso. Oh, well. I can handle a simple latte, too.
"Jesus Christ…" Allen sat next to Francis, watching in total awe, "The fuck is her problem this morning?"
"She's an artist at work, Allen," Francis kept watching, too. I liked the sound of that. An artist at work. If I wanted to, I could do latte art and really impress them, but since I needed some coffee in my body as soon as humanly possible, I'm not doing latte art.
"Spazz," Allen teased.
"Hey," I snapped, "I'm not the only spazz in this family. Have you just met Alfred?"
"You just met Alfred," Allen argued.
"But I got him pegged," I poured carefully from the French press into a cup that sure as hell was not deep enough, but for now, I had to make do, "Don't I?"
"Yeah," Allen admitted defeat, "Since you got coffee going, Amy, how much do you love me?"
"Depends on the day."
"Thanks, Amy," Allen pouted, "Love you, too."
"What do you want, Allen?"
"Francis," Allen asked, "Do you happen to have any almond milk?"
"I think we do, actually," Francis assumed, "Why?"
"Amy…" Allen tried breaking my concentration, "Do you think you could do a brother a solid and…"
"TIME!" I put my hands up, adrenaline pumping through my body, and immediately looked for a clock. Three minutes. Shit. Oh, well. I have the feeling that I'd be getting another opportunity for redemption real quick, "Alright. Now, what did you want, Allen?"
"I was just going to ask for my usual order," Allen backed off, "What the hell was that all about?"
"It's nothing," I brushed him off, "Back when I was working at the café, my boss used to time me on how fast I could throw a latte together. My best time was two minutes. I did mine in three. Yeah. I'll make you some, too, Allen. That's no big deal."
"Thank you," Allen got the almond milk from the fridge and slid it across the island.
"But I'm not making donuts," I stipulated, "I haven't even had my first cup this morning and don't have that kind of energy."
"I don't want donuts," Allen shot me down, "Mattie's making pancakes."
"They're regular pancakes, Allen," Mattie chimed in, "Sorry. Nothing in these are plant based aside from the flour. And the vanilla."
"Dammit," Allen grumbled, "I miss the café."
"I miss it, too," I sighed out, already starting on Allen's. I didn't have it in me to time this one.
"Hang in there, Amy," Francis did his best to comfort me, "I'm sure you'll find a new job soon enough. Maybe if you're lucky enough, the old owner of that café will buy a new building and open up another one."
"A girl can dream, I guess."
"It'd be a shame if something like that were put to waste, cheri," Francis applauded, "That looks fantastic."
"Thank you, Francis," I took a well-deserved bow.
The shuffle of tired feet echoed into the kitchen, along with a still half asleep Arthur, "Good mor…"
His greeting was cut off by the slam of the front door opening, "GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE! HOW'S IT HANGING, MY DUDES?"
"A little quieter next time, Alfred," Francis insisted, pulling Arthur into his shoulder, "Good morning, Angleterre."
"AMY!" Alfred threw his arms around me, "I'm so glad to see you're ok."
"It's good to see you, too, Alfred," I struggled for air, "I'd rather not be snapped in half this morning."
"You're here awfully early, Alfred," Mattie noticed, "What's the occasion?"
"I had to check in on the little one," Alfred's grip loosened. But only slightly. Luckily for me (and my possibly disfigured spine), Alfred's train of thought took a hard left turn, "Awesome! Pancakes! How long have you been here, Mattie?"
"A couple hours," Mattie told him, "I asked you if you wanted to come with me, but you were still asleep."
Thump…
Thump…
Thump…
I looked toward the doorway and noticed a bitter figure standing there. Yet I still greeted him with a gentle and sincere smile, "Good morning, Fran…"
SMACK!
Francois's fist went into Alfred's cheekbone and without another word, Francois turned around and went back upstairs. Alfred didn't even get a chance to respond or hell, hit him back. Instead he blinked the stars out of his eyes, "What the hell was that for?"
"You had it coming," Arthur and Francois could see eye to eye.
"Arthur!" Francis rolled his eyes, getting something out of the freezer for Alfred's face, "I'm sorry, Alfred. Francois has been like that ever since we were little. He's not exactly one for early mornings."
"It's barely nine o'clock," Alfred pressed the ice pack against his face, "I wouldn't call that early."
"If it's anything before noon," Francis added, "It's too early for Francois. Unless he's hungover. Then, anything before four o'clock in the afternoon is too early for Francois. Next time, keep it down please."
"Francis," Arthur held his face in his hands, "We've been together for many, many, many years. We've had our boys for many, many years. In our time together, have you ever known Alfred to be the quiet one?"
"No."
"I can be quiet when I want to be!" Alfred whined, also proving Arthur's point.
"Hey, Mattie," I leaned over, "Is this a normal morning in this house?"
"I'd love to be able to say no," Mattie had a little smile on his face, "But I can't or I'd be lying."
"Normal is a relative term," Francis pointed out, "Have some breakfast, Amy."
"And after breakfast," Arthur decided, "We'll go sit in the living room and talk a little more. How does that sound?"
"Fine by me," I gave him a nod and put a kettle on the stove. If this is a prime example of how mornings are here, I think I'm going to do just fine. Sure, the family is kind of screwed up, but honestly, whose family isn't? Granted, theirs is probably a different dynamic and not composed of nations. Still, I'll take it. I'm going to have to. This is my home now, if I decide to stay. It's not like they can make me stay here. After what I went through with Oliver, I doubt they'd ever make me.