A/N: WELCOME! It's Aksel, and this is my first multi-chapter. It's a PruCan. :D I don't know how frequently I'll update, but I'm in the process of writing Chapter 4. Or 5, I cant really remember. I hope to update frequently. Enjoy!

Diclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, PruCan smut would be included in the bonus scenes.

For Matthew Williams, the normally invisible personification of Canada, sleep was a cherished practice. It was a means of escape, to him. He could just relax and forget about his job, his idiotic family and unfortunate invisibility. But best of all, he could dream. He could lose himself and then wake up a few hours later, the same as before he had fallen asleep. Had he been a man of weaker will, he knew he would be using all kinds of drugs by now, and fucking himself up beyond repair in the process. But, he wasn't weak and he knew that drugs could never give him the dreams he had when he just slept. They would never be the same with drugs, and he couldn't afford to ruin them. So night after night, he fell into peaceful slumber and entered the realm of dreams.

It was the night of February 25th, in 1997, when Matthew realised that not all dreams were good. Sure, he had nightmares in the past, but only as a child. Every young one's mind harbours insecurities and fears which breed long nights of crawling into their parent's beds, trying to banish the terrifying nighttime visions. But, Matthew had been using dreams as an escape from his reality ever since the '40's. Not once in those 50-something years did he ever have a dream that terrified him so much. The content of the dream wasn't the only terrifying thing about it, however. The lingering feeling that it wasn't just a product of his own mind, like every other dream, scared him most of all. There was something else there, trying to speak to him. And he was going to find out what it was, no matter how horrifying.

It was a well known fact in the community of personified nations, that Arthur Kirkland was a little off. Everyone was in some way. It was impossible not to be, they were immortal personifications of countries for Jesus' sake! But, he was assumed to be just a little more off than the rest. He believed in faeries, he practiced magic, and he liked to talk to beings that no other nations could see. But, when his ex-colony (What's his name again? Mark? Michael? Matt-Matthew! That's it) came to visit him, shaking violently and muttering about dreams from another realm before passing out on his doorstep, Arthur knew he wasn't the only off one around here. Except Norway.

Arthur's POV

Knock, knock.

Go away.

Knock, knock, knock.

Go the bloody hell away. I'm sleeping.

Knockknockknockknockknockknoc-

"BLOODY HELL, WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT? GO AWAY! I'M SLEEPING, YOU WANKER!"

...

Knock, knock.

"FINE!"

A very irritated, very tired Arthur Kirkland reluctantly hurled himself out of bed at 2:29am to answer his front door. Some obnoxious and persistent twat was knocking and wouldn't go away, so the chances that he would get to punch who he thought was a certain American behind his door was a promising enough reason to not ignore it any further. Oh, and he probably wouldn't be able to just go back to sleep with all that knocking, because if the bugger was who he thought it was, it would never stop. Stupid Americans.

Arthur dragged his tired body towards his (very loud) front door. He grabbed the handle and readied his empty fist for a packing right hook...

"Alfred! How many times have I told you that I do NOT want to be disturbed by your sorry-" ...Until he saw that it wasn't America who came knocking at all. It was his much more peaceful and much less obnoxious brother, Canada. And Canada looked like shit.

His wavy, blond hair was sticking up in all different directions and looked wet with sweat. His face wasn't flushed like Arthur would have expected, but completely devoid of all colour. His skin looked clammy and paler than usual, and his violet eyes were darkened with fear and shifting around in every direction. He was muttering under his breath about dreams "from the beyond" and his lip was bleeding like he had bitten it too hard. His little body was shaking violently under a pair of red and white maple leaf boxers and a matching hoodie, and he wasn't even wearing his glasses. Or shoes. Or proper trousers. Or-

"Jesus, Matthew! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to call Al-" and then Matt fainted. Arthur stared at Canada's limp form and then sighed and bent down so he could hoist him up by his armpits and drag him inside the house. He dumped Matt on the couch and sat in his recliner. Arthur could feel a headache brewing in the back of his skull as he drifted back to sleep in his chair, unaware of the disaster waiting for him upon awakening again.

Arthur woke up with a stiff back and an even bigger killer headache in the recliner, to the delicious smell of pancakes and maple syrup. He stood up and stretched his store muscles before scratching his stomach and wandering towards the source of the promising smell of (an actually edible) breakfast.

When he entered his kitchen, he remembered just who came to visit him last night (for once) and vowed to interrogate him once they finished eating.

"Morning, Matthew." Arthur greeted, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Matthew jumped and turned around, looking sheepish.

"M-Morning, Arthur. I made pancakes for breakfast! I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen." He said, scratching the back of his head in nervousness.

"Not at all, lad." Arthur smiled. "It's nice, having homemade breakfast!" He didn't want to scare the poor kid away. He did faint on his doorstep last night, after all. It wasn't like he thought he'd certainly be having more than one plate of those good-looking pancakes, and didn't want the little cook running away or anything.

Matthew set down a plate in front of Arthur and motioned for him to start eating, startling him from his thoughts. He said a quick thanks and dug into the pancakes. The second they hit his tongue, he groaned.

"Shit, Matthew." Arthur said, startled by his own use of sudden (and quite ungentlemanly) profanity. "Where did you learn to make such heavenly pancakes?" he said, immediately picking his fork back up and tucking into the pancakes. Matthew laughed and sat down across from Arthur at the tiny kitchen table.

"I'm Francis' son too, remember?" he said, a small smirk rising on his face at seeing Arthur frown.

"Yeah, don't remind me." Arthur figured more delicious pancakes would make him forget the frog. And their shared child. And what they had to go through to make said shared child.

Arthur soon finished the plate in front of him and blushed, looking pleadingly at Matthew. Matt just smiled and took his plate from him, starting the stove up again.

Yeah, he totally didn't want Matthew to stay just because he made good pancakes.

Many of said pancakes and praises directed towards Matthew's cooking skills later, Arthur sat Matthew down at his couch and plopped back down in his own chair.

"So," he began. "Do you remember what happened last night?" Arthur saw Matthew's face darken as he nodded.

"Yeah. I do remember." he said. "I'm sorry for passing out on you, but I was just so tired and...utterly terrified." Matthew unconsciously hugged his arms around his torso and curled into the couch.

"What were you so scared of?" Arthur asked, his eyes softening and casting his ex-colony a sympathetic look. "And what were you mumbling about other-worldly dreams?"

Matthew hesitated, cringing when Arthur said "other-worldly", and then spoke again.

"Well... How about I start at the beginning?"