Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.
"Um…hi?" Matthew said softly, shifting awkwardly as he stared up at the yawning teenager leaning against the frame of the open door. "Is Alfred home?" He asked, cheeks darkening as the older boy blinked down at him, green eyes drowsy.
"The little twat's got practice or some rot like that." Arthur muttered, squinting against the harsh light. "Bloody sunlight." He scowled, knitting his thick eyebrows together.
Matthew felt his chest go cold as the older boy's words sunk in. "But…" He protested, clutching his worn baseball glove closer to his chest. "…he invited me over to play catch today."
"Brat says a lot of things, just can't remember a single word." Arthur said indifferently as he shrugged, before catching sight of the way Matthew's face fell. The teenager shifted uncomfortably, feeling a burst of pity for the blond as the child sniffled softly.
"Stupid Alfred." Matthew said vehemently, sniffling ceasing suddenly. "He always does this!" He looked up, sharply, indigo eyes indignant. "He said that we'd play together every day this summer so I shouldn't sign up for camp because he wasn't either! That…that…hoser!"
The final word was filled with so much fury and his tiny body trembled with understandable anger that Arthur's lips twitched upwards (even as his head pounded and he felt like his brain was being dashed against the inside of his skull).
"Listen up, poppet." He said loudly, silencing Matthew mid-rant. "How about you let me wash up—had quite the bender last night, completely shitfaced I was—and have a quick cup of tea and then you and I'll have ourselves a jolly good time without that git." He studied the younger boy thoughtfully, tousling his choppy hair. "…How do you spell centre?"
Matthew just stared at him. "C-e-n-t-r-e. Or c-e-n-t-e-r, if you're going the American way." He said slowly. "…Why?"
Arthur grinned brightly, then. "No reason. We'll get along just swell…" He trailed off, blinking.
"Matthew." The younger blond sighed.
"Right, of course." Arthur laughed and turned on his heel, absent-mindedly tugging up his Union Jack boxers. "Never drink, mate. It'll fuck with your head." He paused before adding. "Don't swear either."
Matthew, still upset with Alfred, couldn't help but smile, excited to spend the day with the cool teenager.
"This is so unfair!" Alfred huffed, slamming down the beaker, its contents lapping the rim dangerously.
"Please be careful more careful." Kiku warned, eyeing the blond warily. "Perhaps I should—"
"What does he even see in him?" Alfred continued, blue eyes annoyed and completely oblivious to his lab partner's attempts to confiscate the chemicals. "He knits doilies. He quotes Shakespeare. He drinks tea."
"I like tea." Kiku interjected politely, finally succeeding in taking away the beaker as the blond began to sulk, flopping over onto the black tabletop and burrowing his face into the sleeves of his white lab coat, safety goggles pushed up onto his forehead.
"And he's old." Alfred spat out, voice muffled.
"What's wrong with that?" The Japanese boy asking softly and thinking of his own boyfriend who was a Classics major at the university. Far be it for him to impose his view's on Alfred's infatuation with his best friend, but Kiku couldn't really bear to see the normally rambunctious blond so depressed. For one, they would never get the experiment done and then they'd fail the assignment. And secondly, Alfred was a good friend of his. "Perhaps you should simply confess to Matthew? Leave a note in his locker asking to meet him at the rooftop and—"
"Dude, that sounds so gay." Alfred interrupted loudly.
Kiku bristled, fingers briefly tightening around the vial of acid.
"Mr. Kirkland?" Matthias asked loudly, expression horrified. "Another teacher? Damn it, Williams."
"I can't help it, Matthias." Matthew snapped, wondering if he could bash the taller teen over the head without the coach seeing. "And I liked him even before he was a teacher—"
"Not that!" The Danish boy whined. "I just lost the bet."
Next to him Anders grinned a little viciously. "Pay up." He snickered. "Big brother's saving up for a new pair of blades."
Matthew looked at Matthias and then Anders. "You two bet on who I would have a crush on next?" He asked quietly, indigo eyes frosty.
"Uh…" Matthias glanced at Anders and then the Canadian before dashing away, screaming, "Berwald!"
Anders remained standing there. He looked at Matthew with contrite eyes. "Hot chocolate? My treat." He promised.
"Damn straight." Matthew muttered, skating away.
"Mr. Williams." Arthur said, looking up and catching Matthew's attention before the student left the room.
"Sir?" Matthew asked hesitantly, heart fluttering as his longtime crush smiled faintly at him. "Is there a problem?"
"I was hoping to ask you that." Arthur responded, standing up and gathering his papers. "You and Alfred are still quite close, I hear."
"Yes sir." Matthew asked, a little nervously.
"I hope that you don't believe, in light of your friendship with my brother and our past relationship, that I will be lenient with you." He eyed Matthew sharply. "I despise favoritism, Mr. Williams."
"Of course not, sir!" Matthew reassured hurriedly. "The thought never crossed my mind."
"Good." Arthur nodded briskly before his expression softened. "That being said, Matthew, I do hope that we can maintain our friendship outside of school and keep it separate from here. I am your teacher after all." He straightened and shut his briefcase with a decisive snap.
Matthew just grinned, secretly swearing that he'd keep his childish infatuation hidden for his, Arthur's, and especially Alfred's sake.
It wasn't that Matthew went out of his way to fall for his and Alfred's mutual friends, it just happened. And, unfortunately, it often resulted in a strained relationship between he, Alfred, and the recipient of his infatuation.
Even if Matthew never ended up dating said friend, things would become weird and tense, a small chasm opening up and widening until the friends just drifted apart, realizing that perhaps distance was necessary.
There were a few friends with which things did not end messily. Those people were Matthew's hockey teammates (who were more than happy to be on the receiving end of Matthew's interest—especially Anders who briefly dated Matthew and still carried his books from time to time) and Ivan (who was just happy to have someone relatively sane interested in him and glad to find another way to annoy Alfred) and Miguel (who also was pleased to find another way to annoy Alfred). Matthew had been honest with each person, desperate not to lose those friendships like he had others when he realized that he wouldn't be able to continue the friendship without pining for the other person.
Of course, the greatest success story had been with Alfred. To this day, Alfred remained oblivious to Matthew's on-and-off again, ephemeral instances of puppy love.
Matthew didn't think he could bear it if Alfred rejected him (like Lars who only liked preteen girls—though he had let Matthew down gently and with regret and still kept in constant contact with the boy).
So Matthew couldn't let this crush on Arthur become anything more. If it did, he'd only end up hurt again (like after Francis left). Arthur would rebuff him.
And Alfred would hate him.
So Matthew just excused himself from his classroom, forcing away the butterflies in his stomach when Arthur smiled at him.
"You've been hanging out with him?" Alfred shrieked, ignoring the way his ice cream dripped down the cone and down his fingers.
"Well its not like you were there." Matthew pointed out snidely, glaring at Alfred while licking his own ice cream. "You were too busy at baseball practice."
"I said I was sorry dude!"
Matthew shrugged indifferently. "Arthur is cool."
"You're on first-name basis too?"
"He taught me how to play rugby."
Alfred looked horrified, eyes wide and mouth open before shouting. "Traitor!" He pointed accusingly at Matthew.
"You're being ridiculous." The other blond snapped. "I like hi—" He was cut off by an ice cream cone being shoved into his face. Sputtering, the Canadian wiped the melting treat off his face and stared incredulously at Alfred whose face was crimson and enraged.
Matthew, not one to let a challenge go unanswered—especially when it was Alfred—snarled and launched himself at the other boy, tackling him roughly to the ground and shoving his own ice cream into his face while shouting some choice French words that his mother warned him to never repeat (but he thought this was a good time).
The boys wrestled for a while, taking turns shoving the other's face into the dirt and yelling things that would've most definitely earned them a time out.
Finally, after several minutes of furious grappling, the two boys collapsed against each other in exhaustion, breathing heavily and faces flushed.
"I bet…you guys are…like…best friends now." Alfred whispered, hands clenched into tight fists, an inexplicable, familiar feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.
"You're so dumb." Matthew responded, throwing a tuft of grass at Alfred. "I like him, but I like you more."
Alfred looked over at his friend, disbelief written on his face. "Really?" He twisted around, shifting to his knees as he grabbed Matthew's dirty shirt and shook him lightly. "I'm your favorite for real?"
"Yeah, of course!" Matthew rolled his eyes, slapping away Alfred's hand, before laughing as the other blond threw himself at him and pulled him, unresisting, into a bear hug.
When Matthew hit puberty and had his first wet dream about his old grade school teacher, he didn't tell Alfred.
But the first time he kissed the pretty exchange student from Seychelles, he did tell Alfred because the other blond had been bragging about getting a hickey from the new student from Vietnam.
Alfred had patted him on the back and congratulated him after a beat of silence.
A few months later Arthur came for a visit and took both boys for a soccer game.
Alfred fell asleep before halftime so Arthur spent the game patiently explaining the finer points of the sport to Matthew and the younger boy had sat, listening raptly, as Arthur gripped his shoulder and offered a play-by-play commentary.
That night Matthew dreamt of being pushed down onto that grassy field as Arthur hovered above him, smiling rakishly and jade eyes gleaming.
He shared the dream with Alfred, emboldened by their close friendship. Alfred had sat still and said nothing. When he did speak, he pretended as though Matthew hadn't said anything.
After that, Matthew was careful not to mention Arthur around Alfred. It was after that moment, that the troublesome crushes started and Alfred and he began to argue more.
And there you have it folks. Alfred's little crush isn't quite as unrequited as he believes. -evil grin- And I see younger Arthur as a weird mix of old Arthur and Gilbert? (Delinquent? Why yes, yes). Yeah, so, still worth continuing? And, if so, what should the pairing ultimately be? Al/Matt? Arthur/Matt? THREESOME? -shot repeatedly-
R&R please!