~*~

Chapter Three: Those Hot Summer Days

~*~

The sun beat down on the Canadian, and he immediately regretted wearing a long-sleeved, button-down shirt. The jeans were as bad, but if he was going to be kneeling in dirt and playing with lumber, he might as well stay protected.

Dere are oder vays you should ztay protected, Matvey. Damn that Ivan, slipping in Matthew's mind to point out a sexual innuendo like that.

"Hoo-EE!" Matthew turned to see that Alfred had followed him outside. Alfred was wearing jeans and a t-shirt advertising advertisements. He stopped on the Canadian's small deck and began to take off his shirt in the summer heat. Matthew stood, rooted to the spot for a minute before he shook it off and returned to the task at hand. He picked up his spade and kneeled in the dirt of his flower garden.

"I'm surprised you didn't plant your flowers in the shape and colors of your homeland's flag…" America said, coming up behind him. Matthew looked up at him, his eyes lingering over the America's chest muscles before moving up to the stupid expression the American had on his face.

"I did plant the flag, though, eh," Matthew replied, pointing the tiny flag in the middle of the flower garden. What a small flag you have there, Mattieu… Francis said in his head. Matthew blushed at the… ah… sexual innuendo. Between Francis and Ivan permanently lodged in his brain, Matthew was getting a headache. Why couldn't Feliciano be one of the voices in his head?

Ve~ Hand him a spade, Mattie~

Wish granted. Matthew simply smiled and handed Alfred the spade, "Make yourself useful, eh?"

Alfred took the spade and knelt down beside his Canadian friend, "Okay… so what am I looking for?"

"Anything that doesn't belong…" Matthew replied.

"This clover, then?" Alfred asked, pointing with the spade.

Matthew smiled, "Yes…"

He walked back to his tool-shed and found another spade. Upon finding one, he walked out of the cool shade back into the hot sun. The heat was finally taking a toll on him. He shook his head, too stubborn to do anything about the heat. He knelt down just as a clover hit him the lap.

"I don't know what to do with them, Mattie~" Alfred almost whined. Matthew knew he was only trying to be cute (and it was working), so he put the clover off to the side in the middle of the two boys.

"There, just… make a pile and I'll deal with them later… put them in the compost or something…"

"Compost? With worms?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah. I started out with two worms, Fredy and Desdemona, and somehow, there's now over five hundred in the box, eh," Matthew replied, digging up some more weeds as he told his (really random) tale.

"Damn… those worms got busy," Alfred commented, giggling. Matthew blushed as another one of Francis' sexual comments made its way into the Canadian's brain.

Soon all the weeds were picked out of the flower garden, so Matthew got out the hose and watered them for a brief moment. The sun glared down on them both, but it didn't seem to bother Alfred that it was so hot. Then again… he wasn't wearing a shirt. Matthew was uncomfortable and sweaty, but he was too stubborn to take off his shirt (plus he was just plain embarrassed with himself). Alfred looked at him when Matthew finished watering.

"You look a little… off, Mattie," Alfred said, "Wet… yeah, that's the word I was going for."

"I'm f-fine…" Matthew nearly panted, the heat making his brain a little fuzzy. He leaned against his maple tree to steady himself, and Alfred walked briskly up to his friend and looked him in the eyes. Matthew blinked as Alfred went for the top button on Matthew's shirt, "W-w-w-what are you d-doing, eh?"

"You're overheating, stupid," Alfred barked, unbuttoning the buttons on Matthew's shirt. He went to take it off, but Matthew batted his hands away, one arm going over his chest and his hand clasping his other arm to his side. He closed his eyes to fend off the heat to his face and turned to the tool-shed.

"I'll go get the lumber for the fence, eh…" he said quickly, walking briskly into the cool shed. He went to button the buttons again, but stopped short. He sighed, surrendering, and picked up some lumber. When Alfred saw him coming out, he ran to help him with the wood.

"Sorry for nearly saving your life, Mattie," Alfred said, almost angrily.

"Yeah, my hero," Matthew said, rolling his eyes.

Alfred smiled, "That was the first thing you said to me when we first met," he said.

Ve~ What is this? Not a memory about his relationship with Arthur? You're getting somewhere, bella! Matthew's Feliciano angel whispered.

"Except I meant it back then," Matthew said, still a little shocked and embarrassed at Alfred's behavior earlier.

It wasn't as if he was undressing you completely, mon cheri, the Francis devil cooed.

But geeve eet dime, Matvey, the Ivan devil chuckled.

Matthew wanted to kill both of his shoulder devils on the spot… Feliciano he would definitely keep.

Alfred smiled, "Do I need to make you another cup of coffee? You're getting a little feisty, there, Mattie~"

Matthew gulped as Alfred lifted the lumber from his hand and put it up where it would go. Matthew went back to the shed and got the hammer and a tin of nails. "No, you don't. I'm sorry, eh."

Alfred smiled and shook his head, taking a nail and the hammer and getting to work on the fence. The Canadian tried to help, but Alfred simply shook his head and kept working on the fence. Matthew soon gave up and went inside. Since Alfred had made him breakfast that morning, Matthew decided to make the American some lunch. He got a box of Kraft Macaroni from the cabinet and followed the instructions.

Alfred came in a few minutes later, "It's done!" he said.

"Sit and eat, then," Matthew said, setting a bowl on the table.

Alfred sat down and began to eat, "Very tasty, you'll make a good housewife someday," he joked. Matthew blushed, but sat down with his own bowl of macaroni.

"Thanks, eh," he said after a few minutes, "For helping me out today."

"It's the least I can do for you after your taking me in on such short notice," Alfred replied, smiling.

"How much more do you need. Of time, I mean," Matthew asked.

Alfred sighed and looked at his forkful of macaroni, "It still hurts."

"No worries, no worries, eh! Stay as long as you need to!" Matthew said quickly.

Alfred once again gave Matthew his winning, make-your-heart-flip-over, make-your-legs-turn-to-jelly, thank-God-your-sitting-down-or-you'd-have-fainted-on-the-spot smile and said, "Thanks again, Mattie~"

~*~

Yes, all Canadians eat their weight in Kraft Macaroni (and dream of driving a Zamboni. Props to any of you who get that reference. Hint: It's a song).

And wow... I didn't know that America's smile could do that. But then again, it happens to me all the time, and I've never found the right words to describe how I feel~

Two shoulder devils?! Matthew should be a bad egg then. He's not because Feliciano is like having five shoulder angels. Beat that, Russia and France, beat that. And don't let Prussia in on your little should devil spree. I beg you, please.

Review, sil vous plait? (That was Canadian French... not French French.)

AR