Not gonna lie, guys, you're incredibly lucky I'm feeling so inspired for this story. ^_^ I'm sorry if that sounds bitchy, but even I'm amazed at how I've been updating lately on the UK/Canada front. Anyone who follows me closely, knows I am AWFUL about updating. -looks over at the pile of unfinished stories and sobs- But there's not nearly enough UK/Canada and, even if its this sad little attempt by me, its still something yeah?
Anyways, a big thanks to everyone following this story. Please enjoy this fairly long-ish chapter!
Warning: language, OOC-ness, cliches, fail, teen movie-ish, overuse of film quotes and slang, bromance between Alfred & Matthew (yes, a bromance-nothing more but nothing less), song lyrics.
Pairing: eventual Arthur/Matthew
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Hetalia or the song "Chelsea" by Stefy.
Matthew, exhausted and nursing a huge new bruise that spread across the expanse of his back (courtesy of a brutal hit from Ivan), managed to drag himself over to Alfred's house after a quick shower, knowing full well that, no matter how tempting his bed looked, would never hear the end of it if he didn't.
The sounds of low music reached him before he even entered the modest, two-story home and he couldn't hold back a fond smile as he greeted Alfred's father, George, and made his way downstairs to the unfinished basement.
Leaning against the doorframe, Matthew, wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting red shirt, watched his friends practice, the steady beat calming him as Angelique's sweet voice crooned.
"I don't wanna lose my head today. But I know there's something in the way." The tanned girl cooed, lips scant centimeters from the microphone, her plaid skirt swishing gently with the sway of her hips. "Maybe I made a big mistake last night…when I left you alone with Chelsea."
Angelique was a year younger than them in school, having just transferred from Seychelles (which, yes, was a country apparently) and had been the newest addition to the band. It had been purely by accident that they managed to get her involved and completely thanks to Matthew.
The blond had been jogging in the park when he saw the longhaired brunette frolicking about on the banks of the man-made lake, barefoot and dressed in a powder blue dress, happily singing some song in French about fish.
"Petit poisson. Petit poisson. Nager, nager, nager!" Her voice was almost sickeningly sweet until she decided to belt out a screamo version of the lyrics. "Oh non! Il est mange par un…" By this point Matthew had stopped to watch the younger girl do some sort of twist, dance step, completely unaware of the boy creepily watching her from the picnic benches. "Baracude! Baracude!"
Matthew, who remembered that Alfred had been bitching about needing a kickass singer for his Heroic Return to Music (capitals and all) and just knowing that this girl might just be what the band needed (because it was a straight-up sausage fest in that basement and everyone loved a cute female lead), had blurted out, "Wanna join a band?"
Angelique had shrieked, whirling around, and stared at Matthew with shocked sloe-colored eyes. "Rape!" She cried, already dashing for her shoes, her pigtails bouncing with each step.
The Canadian smacked his forehead and mentally kicked himself in the ass. "Why are you so awkward?" He muttered, before calling back to the girl. "Tu chantes tres bien, mademoiselle!" When the girl stopped running and turned around warily, he gave her a charming smile (the same one he gave his homeroom teacher whenever he and Alfred came to class late and saved them from detention). "We got off on the wrong start. I'm Matthew."
"Angelique." She had said, then, with a small smile. "You really meant it? What you said?"
Later, he had offered to bring the rest of the band to the park to meet her and she had cheerfully agreed (now knowing that Matthew only acted like a creeper and wasn't actually one). Alfred, who was even less successful with girls, had demanded that she "sing or get the fuck out" and Angelique, eyes narrowed, gave a brilliant rendition of "Born in the USA" (after seeing Alfred's favorite American flag pants that he happened to be wearing).
Alfred, eyes filled with ("manly") tears, quickly proclaimed her as the newest band mate, without any argument from Steven or Kiku.
Steven, on the other hand, had been with the two blonds since the beginning. A cousin of Arthur's (not that either acknowledged it often), had taken up drumming in his childhood as a way to burn off excess energy and keep out of trouble during the winter. The blond, who had the same ginormous eyebrows as his cousin, could always be found with a wide grin and a joke on his tongue. He tended to take risks and play rough and he seemed to have a perpetual injury on his nose that allowed him to go through various colors and patterns of band-aids depending on his mood. He had been sitting with Matthew at lunch when Alfred had stormed up to the table, pupils dilated, slamming his hands—palm down—on the table and said, "Either we start a band or I kill myself."
Matthew had just stared at Alfred, violet eyes wide. "…Have you been snorting in the bathroom again?"
"Sounds cool mate. Need a drummer?" Steven had asked, calmly spreading vegemite onto his burger.
"Seriously?" Alfred had leaned forward onto the table, practically vibrating where he stood.
"Yeah, chicks love guys who play in bands." The blond had grinned toothily and gestured over to a table across the cafeteria where an androgynous blond with short curls around her face was putting down a sheep backpack in an open chair. "I've got my eye on that sheila down that ways." A somewhat lovesick look overcame his expression. "I volunteer with her at the animal shelter. She bottle feeds the lambs like she's their own ma."
Alfred was rubbing at his nose. "Okay, sounds awesome dude." He looked around, fingers drumming against the table (Steven's brow had furrowed when he realized how out of time Alfred was). "Okay, drummer check. Now we just need—"
"To get your ass home." Matthew hissed, grabbing the blond by the elbow and dragging him towards the exit. "You're in no shape to finish classes. Lets go."
Kiku, finally, had only agreed because Alfred promised to stop skipping out on their joint experiments for the Science Club. Also, he wanted a little more variety on his college application. But mostly because of Alfred.
"When I left you alone with Chelsea!" Angelique finished, her voice ringing low at the end. When she pulled back from the mike, she whirled around and flashed a sunny smile at Matthew. "How'd we sound?"
Alfred, who was still engrossed with his bass and wearing a deep frown, answered, instead, "We sounded off around towards the end. And you hit the wrong notes, Kiku, during the chorus lines. Angie, I think you should sing this song a little lower, huskier and Steve…well, you did okay. Just okay." He looked around at the group, not noticing Matthew. "Seriously, guys, we need to give 310% percent and our souls if we want to win." A competitive glint shone behind his steel-rimmed glasses.
Kiku nodded amiably, hands folded in his lap. Steven rolled his eyes and then winked at Matthew and tilted his head in Alfred's direction as if to say "This bloke needs to get his priorities in order".
"I'm sure you guys will get it." The curly-haired teen then stepped in, hands tucked into his pockets. "The competition isn't for a while."
"Two months!" Alfred snapped, before realizing whom exactly he was snapping at and then a sheepish expression crossed his face. "Oh hey, Mattie." He chuckled nervously. "How was your day?"
Matthew rolled his eyes, striding into the room and bypassing the group, collapsing face down on the worn leather couch he and Alfred had salvaged from the dump and fixed up. "I have no game. And Ivan is one crazy son-of-a-bitch." He turned his head so he could see his friends. "I just want to hear some good music now." The teen said with a shy smile.
And, with a shrill whistle and quick countdown, Steven was already building up a steady tempo with Alfred strumming along as Angelique began to hum. Soon Kiku followed and Matthew found himself drifting off as the music lulled him to sleep.
"Wakey wakey sleepy head."
Matthew groaned, face burrowing deeper into the ratty couch.
Alfred laughed lightly, tweaking one of his friend's messy curls. "Wanna stay the night, dude?"
"…If you'll carry me." The teen mumbled groggily. "I can't feel my toes."
The blue-eyed blond looked concerned. "That psycho really did a number on you, huh?"
"I was distracted." Matthew muttered, eyes flickering open to see Alfred leaning on the couch near his face. "Francis mentioned the Montreal thing."
Alfred winced. "Oh."
"Yeah." Matthew shifted slightly. "But Arthur did notice me today."
"I told you the uniform would work."
"No wonder barely anyone wears all that stuff. I was sweating like—"
"A whore in church?"
"…a lot." Matthew said flatly. "But Arthur said I looked 'smart'."
Alfred snorted. "Weird-ass way to say you look fine, but it's a start." He quieted, his toes digging into the shaggy rug that had been thrown haphazardly into the basement to cover the concrete floor. "Have I told you what an awesome friend you are?"
"Not lately, but you can prove it to me by carrying me upstairs." Matthew said suggestively, before adding somberly. "I can't feel my legs."
"Sure thing, buddy."
The next day, Alfred and Matthew piled into Alfred's old Ford and made their way leisurely to school, stopping by a Dunkin' Donuts so Alfred could get his "donut on" and so that Matthew could bitch about how Tim Horton's could beat down any other breakfast chain in America while still nibbling on a glazed donut and some mediocre hot chocolate.
The two entered into the Academy with plenty of time to spare. Alfred, with a chocolate frosted donut half in his mouth and a little on his shirt, was already waving down some friends from his physics class.
"Gotta go make sure I solved problem 12 correctly. I think I have the correct value for the coefficient of friction but I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with my free body diagrams and I have a test in like three days—"
Matthew just nodded, mouth twitching in an attempt to hide his smile at Alfred's worry. "Yeah, see you at lunch."
"Later, broski."
Making his way to his locker, murmuring apologies as random people bumped into his, even as he internally bristled at their inability to see him. Finally, he reached his locker and swiftly opened it, depositing his textbooks for later and wondering if he could catch up on his Economics reading during history or if he should just wing it later.
"He is right here. Honestly, monsieur le President, you should know everyone in our charming school."
Matthew restrained himself from trying to hide in his locker. Instead, he grit his teeth and turned to face his fellow Student Council members. "Good morning, Arthur. Francis." He smiled lightly.
"Bonjour, mon ange." Francis purred, azure eyes gleaming as he reached out to cradle Matthew's cheek. "You look stunning as ever—"
"That is quite enough." Arthur cut in, grabbing the blond's wrist and shoving it into the cold metal. His eyebrows twitched slightly. "Shut your gob." And for good measure, he added, "Pervert."
"Ah, I'm used to it." Matthew admitted. When both seniors glanced at him, somewhat surprised to see him standing there, he sighed and slammed his locker shut. "What did you two need?"
"A copy of that report you presented yesterday." Arthur said, straightening up and giving Matthew a stern look. "Its quite important that you—"
"I'll photocopy it and bring it to class." The Canadian smiled.
"We don't have class together." Arthur said with a polite cough, shifting uncomfortably.
Francis merely smirked.
"Last period Medieval Literature." Matthew replied softly, gaze on the ground.
How the hell was he supposed to seduce this guy again?
"I suppose this is why I didn't realize you were in this class."
Matthew looked up from his copy of Beowulf. Arthur was taking the empty desk next to him, where a pretty senior named Belle would normally sit. The two desks were at the back of the room, near the window that Matthew had cracked open in order to find some cool air to relieve his overheated cheeks.
Arthur sat down, a little awkwardly, setting his satchel on the desk and pulling out his own copy of the text as well as a notepad and fountain pen.
"You sit in the front usu—"
"We haven't really ever gotten off to a good start, have we?" The Brit asked, not really looking at Matthew. "For what its worth my issue is with Jones, not you."
"Arthur—"
"I don't hate you and I'm sorry I keep forgetting you, is what I'm trying to say, git." Arthur snapped, a bit embarrassed. "So stop interrupting."
Matthew didn't mention that it was Arthur who hadn't let him get a word in edgewise. Then Arthur's words hit him and his eyes widened minutely, seeing his chance. "Well…" He began casually, dog-earing his book and turning a bit more to face the teen, fervently hoping that he would mess up. "I don't hate you either. Perhaps…we can work upwards from there?" He suggested, heart beat beginning to pick up.
Arthur appraised him for a moment. "Alright." He said finally. "After all, I do plan to take a good look at our financials and fundraising, Martin."
"…Matthew."
Arthur blinked. "Bollocks." He swore.
Matthew's lips twitched and he said, wryly, "Maybe you'll be able to learn my name somewhere along the line."
"Thank you." Arthur said absently, already looking over the report that Matthew had handed him after class. "From the looks of it, you did a smashing job putting this together." He smiled lightly at the younger teen.
"Well, if you do a good job once, there's no need to do it again." Matthew admitted, modestly, packing away his notebook with a small shrug.
"Quite right." The sandy-haired teen nodded approvingly, already turning on his heel to leave.
Matthew, pulling up his bag, was suddenly hit by an idea. "Oh, wait Arthur!"
The senior turned slightly, raising an eyebrow. Matthew, blushing a little, gripped the strap of his bag and gathered his courage.
"I'd like to run some ideas past you about managing the budget and about our autumn fundraiser." He began, a little nervously. "But before next week's meeting. Would you be able to meet me sometime so…we could talk?" He glanced hesitantly up at the other through his lashes.
Arthur considered his suggestion. "I have band practice regularly that lasts irregular hours, as you are well-aware. Perhaps before four?"
"I have hockey practice." Matthew said quickly, already aware that his coach disliked him missing practice once a week for Student Council meetings and knowing that he really shouldn't push his luck.
"Well, it can't be helped then." The other teen sighed, looking a little put out. "If you don't mind waiting with that noise, then just drop by whenever."
"Thanks. Sounds good." Matthew exhaled slowly.
Check one for Matthew Williams.
"You're so money, bro, and you don't even know it!" Alfred cheered, throwing his arms around Matthew, his bass squished between the two. "Come here you gorgeous Canuck bastard!"
"You poor bastard." Steven muttered, leaning on his tom-toms and tipping back his slouch hat and shaking his head sadly. "Why you would want to spend time with that pommie is beyond me."
"Perhaps it is Student Council business?" Kiku asked politely, dark eyes interested. "Perhaps it is necessary for you two to be forced together, to read over proposals all by yourselves, for him to demand you to submit because he—"
"Kiku. Dude." Alfred said, shocked. "If you are gonna use this as basis for your next smutty comic, then I don't think I'm okay with that."
"Me neither." Matthew added, horrified.
"Or me." Steven grimaced. "Blimey." He let his head thunk down onto the drums.
Angelique looked too excited.
"I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about." The Japanese boy replied demurely, a perfectly innocent expression on his face.
Translations for the French:
Petit poisson, petit poisson. Nager, nager, nager. Oh non! Il est mangé par un...Baracude, baracude!: Little fish, little fish. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Oh no! He was eaten by a...barracuda, barracuda!
Tu chantes tres bien, mademoiselle!: You sing very well, miss!
Okay, so I can't write song lyrics. So I'll be using existing songs unless otherwise noted. If anyone wants to suggest goods songs, please feel free!
Also, I know I'm making light of Alfred's cocaine addiction, but it was a big deal. It explains a lot of why Matt is protective of Alfred and vice versa. Remember, they are close friends-like brothers. No slash between them this time. But they've been through a lot together, some of which Arthur accidently kick-started.
Secondly, I'm no music buff, so forgive me for mistakes I will make during the course of this story. And please forgive my characterizations.
Thirdly, I do not plan to go into details about the "Montreal Incident". Sorry sorry! -nervous smile- Matthew doesn't like to talk about it. Please use your imaginations.
Fourthly...still good?