C H A P T E R F I V E

• PRUSSIA }} gilbert •

I had a good laugh teasing Matthew while he tried to regain his composure.
"That's-uh, that's… agh! Why did you have to say that?" He cried, putting his head in his hands and letting out an agonized, disgusted groan.

I, in a quite un-manly manner, erupted into a fit of giggles. I have to admit to myself, later, that it was a little inappropriate to do, when I should have been figuring out why Berwald was naked in Toris's home. But, I hadn't thought about that, so I just laughed and shrugged Matthew off when he tried to push me over.

"Why are you laughing? Is it true?"

"Of course not." I said, getting up and brushing off my jeans. I left the living room we had been in and entered the kitchen before stomping upstairs, Matthew silently behind me. I hoped, for everyone's sake, the Scandinavian man was clothed the next time we saw him.

Fortunately for us, when I turned the bend warily, he was pulling a navy blue shirt over his head and was wearing a pair of jeans that looked a little too tight. I was wondering how we even had clothes that would fit him, and where they came from. He was so.. big.

"So, I assume there is some sort of reasonable explanation for this?" Matthew said, staring between the three of them.

I plopped down on the chewed up couch. Berwald followed my gaze and fixed his icy eyes on the corner.

"I don't know, maybe. You did this, didn't you, big boy? Thanks. Now we have to replace it." I patted the armrest on the couch. Toris shot me an annoyed look. Berwald was blushing, and he shrugged an apology.

"Seriously, knock it off!" Matthew frowned deeply at me. "I want to know what's going on, and what that stupid couch has to do with it – ahh, okay, maybe not the couch." He pinched his nose. It seemed very England of him to do.

Toris and I exchanged glances.

Maybe he wouldn't believe it. Maybe he'd try to check us into a mental hospital. Maybe we'd have to show him. But maybe he'd be able to answer the questions we had.

I'd only experienced the crazy-ass shift-into-a-wolf business about a month ago, while Toris had been dealing with it for six months, I think, and Raivis and Arthur a little less than that.

"Let's clear something up, first." Toris said, turning to Berwald. "Who bit you?"

Matthew made a confused gesture with his hands but Berwald interrupted him before he could say anything.
"Bit?"

That didn't make sense. 'Bit' wasn't someone I knew. It just sounded like an echo.

"Yeah. We know what happens – who bit you?"

Berwald's electric gaze pulled itself away from Toris, and he then fixed it on me. I knew my gaze was unnerving, but his was a little, too. More so his scowl than his eyes. I raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't bitt'n. Just… t'rned." He said, shrugging.

Oh.

Toris stared at him for a few moments, before looking at me. Berwald and Matthew turned to look, too.

I didn't have anything to say.
"Bitten by what, exactly?" Matthew asked.

"Ya don't know?" Berwald scowled at Matthew.

"No." He whispered.

This was giving me very bad flashbacks of a terrible chick flick Feliciano had forced me and Ludwig to watch. What was it called? Midnight? Say it… out loud!

"Wolf." Toris said.

The hum of the air conditioning filled the air for a few moments, and I focused on it until Matthew shook his head.

"Uh huh. Wolf. You know, Toris, I never took you as a drinker." He said, standing up.

"But.." Toris reached out, but didn't make any other move towards him.

Matthew looked between us for a little while; I'm not sure how long, before he stomped up the stairs. I listened to him grab his things and leave out the front door, nearly slamming it on the way out.

"You know, he's been kind of aggressive lately." I said, resting my head sideways in my palm. "Something must really be eating him. Pun intended." I smirked at Berwald and he glanced at the couch corner.

"Well, anyways…" Toris turned to Berwald. "You.. really weren't bitten?" He shook his head. "Then… that makes two, doesn't it, Gilbert?"

Put me in the spotlight, thank you. Of course, I love being center-stage, and I'm just so good at it I feel bad for making others watch me, knowing that they will never be as accomplished as me. "Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so." I fumbled. "I mean, supposing we weren't all dead drunk and someone forgot biting me."

Toris shook his head. "Nobody's been drinking since they shifted."

I shrugged. "Well, hell if I know what happened. The important thing is that we're all wolves now, and Matthew will probably blab to Alfred who will tell the whole world! Yippee."

"I don't th'nk so. M'tt d'sn't seem like th't kinda p'rson." Berwald spoke up, before looking back down at the couch.

"Doubt it." I scoffed.

"Whether or not Matthew is going to tell everyone isn't important right now. Why did you two shift into wolves if you weren't bitten? Does it have something to do with our relationship with one another?" Toris asked, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You tell me," I snapped.

Talking about me like a science experiment. There wasn't anything scientific about me, and I wasn't a specimen. Toris looked at me for a long while, meeting my blazing gaze.

"I don't know." He whispered.

No shit, Sherlock. I didn't even have an answer. You were supposed to know your own body. But not I, nor Toris, nor Raivis, nor Arthur could explain why I had shifted, and they wouldn't be able to explain why Berwald had either. We were just lucky no one had seen him. I'd almost been caught myself, caught in the dead of the night on a nearly empty street.

Perhaps he was our saving grace; our panacea. Because I'm sure it's more than just 'wolf' that I needed curing from.

•••

• AMERICA }} alfred •

Did I do something wrong?
I want to know; I can fix it.

Was it something I said?

Tell me; I'll take it back.

I miss the touch of my fingers against the back of your hand. You let go.

I miss the sound of your yelling. The silence hurts worse.

I'd never found myself a real big fan of romantic movies, and especially not books, but now I felt as if I was swimming in one.

I'm not quite sure what I did to upset you, or why you had to leave. Ironic, isn't it? Our roles have been reversed, Arthur, but I can't help but feel that what I did so long ago might have been worse. So, I'm sorry.

I put a stop on the music blasting from my tiny stereo in the corner of my room, before leaving silently and trudging downstairs. Matthew left a little while ago, but he's back now, and is making lots of noise in the kitchen, so I want to see what's up.

When I approached the doorframe I could hear him muttering under his breath, something he only did when he was angry. "Stupid…ert…yeah right… like I'd!...ieve… wolf…shape...ters…"

I stepped inside to see him whisking furiously at a bowl of pancake batter. His red jacket was covered in tawny spots.

"Woah, dude, calm down. It's not cement." I took it away from him, setting it on the counter.

Matthew frowned down at his shirt and shook his hands around. "Not everyone can mix cement with their bare hands, Alfred."

"Yeah, well…well…Whatever." I said.

I sat in the kitchen for a few minutes before being served pancakes by my dearest brother, all the while listening to him slamming things on already beat-up counters and scoffing, shaking his head. Normally I wouldn't have stuck around when he was angry like this, but I was getting his pancakes out of it. How could I say no?

I munched on mine silently, keeping a wary eye on him. He reminded me of a caged animal, so much pure emotion bottled up something small could set it off. Dangerous, I'd say.

He paused, seeming to notice me staring at him.

"What's up with you?" He snapped.

I fumbled over my words. "Nothing." I said innocently.
He held a thoughtful gaze for a moment before snorting, and then laughing as he got up and dumped his dishes in the sink, before casting a last look at me and leaving the room.

What the hell.

•••

here's another chapter! :3 sorry it took a while. I try spacing them out. love you all!