"Did you have fun?" Yao asks from the kitchen when Kiku slips in through the front door. He's making dinner, a stir fry of sorts, from the smell of it.
With a soft smile, Kiku clicks the lock shut, letting his gaze focus on no where in particular. He's glad that his older brother cannot see his expression from where he is in the other room.
"Yes," the younger boy responds, almost without thinking. An avoidant answer, simply telling the other what he knows he wants to hear. It's instinct. But this really is the truth, isn't it? He did have fun.
"Really?" comes his brother's response, with more than a hint of surprise. Perhaps the authenticity of Kiku's answer was more apparent than he thought.
"We went ice-skating," Kiku answers, not directly to the question, but in a way. More information. He bends down to slip his shoes off, before moving through the hall and into the kitchen.
Yao glances up at him when he enters, spatula in hand, moving around the pan's contents. Stir-fry: he was right.
"I'm glad." Kiku looks up from the sizzling vegetables to see a smile on his older brother's face. Not just his usual grin of contentment, but a real smile, with a certain depth behind it.
"What…?" the younger one half questions, too distracted by his guessed explanations to finish the inquiry.
"You're happy," Yao says, so much more interlacing those two words than is apparent on the surface.
Kiku opens his mouth to respond, to deny the comment, only to realize that he has nothing to say. He is happy. Despite his computer's situation, despite everything.
"Food is ready, aru~" Yao chimes, interrupting his thoughts. He clicks the stove's dial off, lifting the pan to scoop its contents onto two awaiting plates, before moving to the rice cooker to repeat the process.
Smiling fully, for the first time in what feels like ages, Kiku takes the proffered plate from his brother and sits down to eat. Tonight, perhaps, he will actually be able to sleep properly. For the first time, since this all started.
"I'm home," Arthur greets as he enters through the front door, a bag of groceries in each hand.
Alfred is sprawled on the couch in the living room, staring off into space with a goofy grin on his face, when the sound of his roommate's voice and footsteps reach his ears.
"Hey!" he returns, stumbling off the couch and into the hallway. Seeing the groceries his cousin is holding, he moves past him towards the front door to grab the rest.
When he brushes past the other, however, his cousin steps into his path, smirking at him knowingly. "I see you followed my advice, for once in your life…"
"Aww, come-on; you don't have to be all bitter about it, Arty!" Alfred pokes, though he knows the other is joking. For the most part.
"No, really…I'm glad," the older blond assures, laughing at the look the other boy sends him. "Is there something wrong with me being happy for you?"
"No, just…" Alfred glances down, tracing the lines of the wooden floor with his eyes. He isn't used to the other boy being so open about his feelings; so honest and straight forward. There is a softer side to the roughness, he knows that. A side that doesn't argue and pester, a side that is caring and concerned, rather than cynical and harsh. A side he rarely sees.
"Just what?" Arthur presses, moving past him to the small kitchen, depositing the two bags and beginning to empty the items inside.
"Just…"Alfred is aware he could say the wrong words here. 'Just why do you care? Why, after what I did to you?' The response burns on his lips as soon as the words enter his mind, but he holds them back. Their fragile relationship is something he has worked too hard to repair, to throw it away on mere impulse.
Instead, he tries to lighten the mood, diffuse the tension. "Just…who are you, and what have the aliens done with my cousin?"
Arthur actually chuckles at that, rather than biting back a disparaging retort as he is so usually prone to. He puts away a few boxes before turning to look at his relative, a softness in his expression that Alfred truly wishes he could see more of.
"Aliens don't exist, you dolt…" the words lack their usual surliness, replaced instead by a reluctant fondness.
Alfred smiles, slipping out the door to grab the rest of the groceries.
When he returns, his cousin is already starting dinner. Fish and chips again, most likely, Alfred guesses with a grin. Figuring he'll wait on the food, he plops down in one of the chairs around the small table, sitting in it backwards so that he can rest his head on his arms to watch the other boy.
Not that he's really watching him; more staring off into space on the pretense of doing so. He marks off his mental checklist of the required ingredients, matching those Arthur has gathered to those he knows he needs. Now, it's his turn to feel triumphant.
"So where did you head off to, exactly?" Arthur breads the fish, setting it down into the dish. Somehow, the food he makes tends to look pretty appetizing before entering the oven; that's where the "magic" happens. "Were you out with Kiku?"
"Matty, actually," Alfred responds, unable to restrain a laugh when Arthur jolts lightly, obviously not having anticipated that response. "And then…Kiku."
The shock is gone, replaced with a silence, as Arthur continues cooking. Several minutes pass before he places the food in the oven. He then turns to the potatoes.
"How was he?"
"Kiku? Or Matty?"
"…both." Arthur slices the starches neatly, before placing them in a pan, and adding oil.
"Kiku's pretty good," the triumphant glow behind the glasses doesn't go unnoticed. "I might not be any closer to fixing his computer, but at least I cheered him up some. And that's something…"
"Good to hear," the older blond responds, and there is quiet for a few minutes, filled only by the sounds of cooking.
"What about your brother?" he asks, hesitance clear in his voice this time, knowing how touchy the subject is.
"Matty…was good. The doctors seem to think he's doing better. They said he might even be able to come home in a few months; go back to school. As long as there's someone around to keep an eye on him…"
The older boy doesn't miss the implication. "I suppose you'll be moving back home, then?"
"I guess so…" Alfred isn't too keen on the idea. He hasn't been home since his brother's admittance, only to grab some of his belongings after taking Arthur up on his offer to stay at his place.
His parents are busy people, out working more often than not. It had never really been a concern of his. Not when he had friends to hang out with, games to go to, movies to see. Not before.
With his brother's absence, however, he suddenly found any length of time spent in the house depressive, unbearably lonely. He couldn't stand it, couldn't help but think of the sick irony of it all, how it was nothing more than he deserved.
But, like the coward he knows himself to be, deep down, he had copped out. Escaping to Arthur's, ridding himself of the lingering memories. As much as one can ever forget something like that…
"…he could always move in here."
Alfred has to blink a few times, reminding himself that he's in a conversation. "What?"
"I said…" Smoke is emitting from the stove, the contents beginning to char, though Arthur remain unphased, continuing on. "Matthew could always move in here. It might be a bit crowded with the three of us, but he could squish in your room. Besides, your parents are never home much, and I hardly think you alone would be accurate safe-guarding against…seeing as you can barely take care of yourself, I…"
Alfred smiles, genuinely, knowing that Arthur is merely reverting to his usual method of defense, trying to cover up and not show others exactly how much he cares. Or exactly whom the care is directed towards.
"That would be great." Alfred responds softly, the quietness to his voice earning a glance from his cousin, before he rushes to deposit the meal onto plates.
That would be really great…
When Arthur hands him his plate, he knows one thing that he'll be looking forward to upon his brother's return:
His cooking.
So. I kind of fell out of love with the Hetalia fandom for awhile. I have been into sooo many other fandoms recently, that Hetalia just got shoved into the backseat without my realizing. However, I seem to have regained my interest a little bit, at least enough to finish this story up. I will try to complete it before I start college at the end of the month, but no promises. I do know where I'm going from here on out, though, so it is not too unfeasible. Expect another 4-5 chapters. At most. Probably.
My apologies if the characters are out of character! I have not been with the fandom for several many months now, and I am a bit out of touch. I also haven't written anything in awhile, so I apologize if my writing is off. I reread the entire story before finishing this, so I hope that helped the congruency to some extent. It has been over a year since I started this, however; what can you do.
Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy~ I'll try not to make you guys wait so long on the next one.