Silly, annoying plot bunnies ripping up my sheets and eating my homework. This one wouldn't leave me alone and since I was rather fond of it, I decided to type this up. It's not that original an idea, but I liked it and wanted to try my hand at it. Sometimes I like to experiment with new ideas to help me improve and save me from writer's block on other stories. -sob- I hate writer's block.
Summary: Matthew's new roommate is cheerful and annoying, and tends to enter the bathroom without knocking while Matthew's in the shower. Oh, and he's also a ghost.
Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matthew
Warnings: AU (...yeah...), language, perving, OOCness, probably other things I'm forgetting
"Thanks again for helping me move, Gil." Matthew said, violet eyes wide and grateful as he looked over at the platinum blond. Crimson eyes (new colored contacts he gleefully bought weeks ago and decided they were the only color awesome enough for his eyes) flickered away from the road and at the younger man.
"Like I said the first hundred times you thanked me, it's no problem Matt." The older man smirked, reaching over and ruffling wavy blond locks roughly. "'Sides, it would be totally unawesome of me to leave you to carry all those heavy boxes with those noodles you call arms—"
"Hey!"
"—and since you offered to make me pancakes—"
"When did I—"
"—and since you pretty much got on your knees and begged—"
"Gilbert." Matthew growled, eyes darkening. The German (or Prussian as he adamantly argued) laughed and playfully punched the sulking Canadian's shoulder.
"Cheer up, Mattie. You know no one can deny you anything." Gilbert's smile dimmed and he muttered, "Unless its Arthur."
"Gil, don't." Matthew sighed, looking out his window.
"'Don't' what?" Gilbert asked, heat rising in his voice. "Don't say that he's a bad excuse for a brother? Don't say he's a forgetful prick?"
"You're being unfair." Matthew argued, turning away from the window and glaring at the other. Gilbert's mouth was set in a thin line and he was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles whiter than his complexion. "His best friend just died!"
"And you're his brother!" Gilbert argued. "Trust me, Matt. I don't mind helping you move in. I was willing to help whether you wanted me to or not. But I'd expect Arthur to be helpful when his baby brother is moving out into his first apartment!"
"You know he's been absolutely miserable since the funeral!" Matthew snapped, ready to defend his older sibling. "And with the way you and Francis act, one would think he disowned me!"
Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek, resolutely avoiding the smaller blond's sharp gaze. Sure, maybe he was being a little unfair. Arthur wasn't exactly a bad brother. He had been young when his father and Matthew's mother (his step-mother) died and unable to care for the blond toddler. As a result, Matthew's aunt and uncle in France had adopted the boy, raising him alongside their son, Francis. Arthur had written regularly and visited Matthew whenever. When he had finally found a steady job after school and settled down, he had sent for Matthew (much to Francis's annoyance).
He had sent Matthew to school, given him everything and played both the role of father and brother.
But Arthur, who had been so used to being on his own and not being the best with people, was still getting used to having a brother and often even forget he was living with another person.
Matthew often had to go home by himself after school because Arthur had forgotten to pick him up. At times Arthur would even forget Matthew lived with him and often struggled with trying to place a name to match the quiet boy who would be eating cereal in the morning. For the most part, Matthew had to be independent (a strange concept after being coddled and spoiled in France) and learned to be patient with the strange man who oscillated between stern and awkwardly loving and never bothered to tame his prominent eyebrows.
Francis, who moved to be closer to Matthew, had never been fond of Arthur (simply for being British and taking back Matthew and then not continuing to love the boy at the same level Francis did).
Gilbert (who was Francis's childhood friend) tended to be harsh towards the Brit because he had been enamored and fond of Matthew since the little boy moved in with Francis and because he too was an elder brother (overly clingy and adoring, much to Ludwig's annoyance).
But Matthew was rarely bitter and always loyal to the sandy-haired man and vehemently defended him before Gilbert and Francis.
Finally Gilbert spoke, "Look, I know not every guy can be an awesome big brother like me, but I think he's been moping around long enough. The least he could've done was drive you."
Matthew was silent. He knew there was some truth to the older man's words, but he didn't want to dwell on them. His brother had been nearly inconsolable after the funeral, even avoiding Matthew, who didn't want to bother the other. Matthew had telephoned the man, mentioning how he was going to be moving that day. He had half-hoped Arthur would offer to help, thinking it would be good distraction for the green-eyed man. But his only response was a heavy sigh and apology citing that Arthur had to work that day.
Matthew had smiled, swallowing his disappointment and said that he understood. Arthur had weakly offered to drop by after work but Matthew just said, "If you're not too tired, of course."
Sometimes Matthew felt the divide between them was too wide and jagged and impossible to mend. He had no idea why their relationship was so tense and strained. Maybe Arthur was guilty about letting him go in the first place, about not being the ideal brother when Matthew first moved in with him.
Maybe he was to blame?
But, regardless of the reason, Matthew had tried and reached out to his brother, never being overly demanding or complaining. He'd try to stay out of Arthur's way as often as he could, never wanting to unnecessarily burden his brother.
But he missed Francis's free and easy love, though he dared not hint at it.
So wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed a rough hand settling at his arm and rubbing it reassuringly. Looking up, faintly surprised, he stared at Gilbert.
"I'm sorry, kiddo. It was really lame of me to take shots at Arthur." The man said quietly. "This is supposed to be an exciting day for you."
"It's okay." Matthew reassured him, softly.
Exhaling loudly (and extremely uncomfortable by the silent atmosphere), Gilbert said, "Fucking damn, Matt. How far is this place, anyways?"
Rolling his eyes, Matthew replied, "We're almost there. Turn left up there."
"Sir yes sir." Gilbert smirked, rounding the corner sharper and earning a loud curse from his passenger when the violet-eyed teen slammed into the door hard.
"Geez, being dead is so boring." The man muttered, sprawled out on the carpet flat on his back. "I can't even go outside." He pouted, glaring up at the white ceiling. With a heavy sigh, the spirit rolled over and crossed his arms under his head.
The spirit, or Alfred as he was once called, was tied to the building, his last home when he had been alive. The small, one-bedroom apartment was depressingly empty. Once filled with mismatched furniture and knickknacks, the space had been cleared out by family and cleaned so that another owner could move in. The only thing that remained of the previous owner, was the previous owner himself.
The most he could do was hang around the building, spying on his neighbors and playing harmless pranks on unsuspecting tenants. He was also still getting used to being dead, and floating through walls and ceilings and floors. Of course, he actually needed to be careful. It took a fair amount of effort not to accidently fall through the floor and become stuck in the strange dimension between two floors. Apparently, being a ghost wasn't that easy. He had to worry about getting stuck between floors and ceilings and walls and about dealing with someone new moving into his home.
Of course, he wasn't really upset that someone else would be moving into his home, Alfred was more annoyed by the fact that he couldn't leave. He'd be stuck floating around, being a voyeur to someone else's life.
Maybe a hot girl would move in. A bright and slightly perverted smile spread across the ghost's face. Maybe she'd like to walk around naked and have friends over for slumber parties where they'd dress up in skimpy outfits, more like shreds of lace than actual clothing, and have pillow fights.
That'd be so awesome, Alfred decided. It would totally make up for the whole being dead thing.
The slight creak of the doorknob twisting caught his attention and the ghost perked up, moving to stand. He watched the door excitedly, wondering if the girl's name would be Ashley or Samantha or would she be a brunette or redhead or would—
And then the door swung open.
Alfred felt his hopes burst into flames and boner die when an albino strode in and looked around.
"Not too shabby, Matt!" He called out, twisting slightly to look behind him.
Alfred, who had started sulking again, caught a glimpse of gold from the corner of his eye. A slender blond with slightly wavy hair and violet eyes quietly shut the door behind him.
"Honestly, Gilbert. Try to be a little quieter. I don't want the neighbors to hate me already." 'Matt' scolded, looking around at the apartment. "And it is nice, isn't it?" He said, cheerfully, looking around.
When pretty purple eyes paused on the spot where Alfred was, the ghost felt strangely warm and tingly all over.
And then he slipped through the floor.
Ahahaha, poor ghost!Alfred. Ahem, I know nothing about ghosts, so please forgive my lack of knowledge. Anyways, how was this? I might continue this but I'm not entirely sure... -wanders away-