~*~

Chapter Five: Ukrainian Eggs

~*~

Christmas was approaching. And fast. Too fast for Arthur, who had just come inside from getting the mail, and he looked accosted by the large stack of catalogues in his arms.

"Alfred… I hate your obsession with Christmas…" he growled to the American.

"And I hate your obsession with making me scones on my birthday," Alfred replied. His come-back only resulted in a death glare from his house mate, which made the temperature colder than the snow outside. "Who said that…? Mattie, shame on you…"

"No pulling me into this conversation, Alfred," Matthew replied, setting down the paper. He looked up at Arthur and immediately jumped up to take a few of the catalogues from him. The picture on the cover of the first catalogue in his stack made him pause as he moved to the counter where Alfred was sitting. It was of a pretty young girl holding a decorated egg. "This isn't a Christmas craft…" he said quietly, pointing.

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other. They hadn't remembered ever telling the French-Canadian that the craft (Ukrainian eggs) were actually a spring craft… Matthew had remembered something from his past life

"Yeah… but other people don't know about that… you want to try it? It looks fun," Alfred said, trying to prompt the other into remembering. He was curious about the French-Canadian's life before the amnesia thing happened.

"S-Sure… but it'll take us a while to have it come once its ordered…" Matthew pointed out.

Alfred thought about it, "Actually… I think Yao has something like this at his shop…" he looked at the catalogue and blushed, "Yeah… it's Yao's shop's catalogue… I'll go… I'll go get it…"

"Bring protection," Arthur called as the American left the kitchen.

Matthew nearly did a spit take with the water he gotten from the sink, and he distantly saw the American flip his British housemate off as he got his coat, hat, scarf, and gloves on and left the French-Canadian and the British boys for Poppy Crafts, the craft store Yao owned.

~*~

"I'm pretty sure Kiku would kill them if he had to run the store while they made out in the store room…" Arthur said after 30 minutes of his American housemate being gone.

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"Kiku Honda. The Japanese guy who always visits the café in the afternoon? He's Yao's only worker because he works so hard, so Yao and him… they get things done. But every time I see one or both of them, they look so tired…" Arthur mused, sipping his tea.

"Oh… him. Yeah. I've noticed that too… you think we should… you know, do something about it?" Matthew asked.

"Siccing Alfred on Yao is only the beginning of my plan for that store…" Arthur said, grinning evilly and rubbing his hands together.

Matthew slapped the other's quad muscle and the Brit groaned, face-planting onto the counter next to his mug. Matthew laughed, "But that's not a good thing to say, Arty… though, yes, Yao seems like the person who needs a boyfriend to get his head away from work…"

"And Kiku needs our humble coffee shop," Arthur countered, returning to a sitting position, "Though I'm sure he's had a tumble in the sheets with Yao while Alfred and him were off-again…" Arthur said, earning another quad-slap from a giggling French-Canadian.

"Wrong. Wrong. That was the wrong thing to say. You need to get a filter on that mouth of yours," Matthew managed to get out.

"I know… I think it's the British side of me… we have no qualms…" Arthur replied.

"Or maybe you need to stop hanging around Francis," Matthew replied, getting the Brit back for his quip a couple days prior.

Arthur simple laughed and put his hand over his face to… was that a blush? Matthew didn't ask, simply tucked it away in the back of his mind. Arthur suddenly opened the door and let in the snowstorm a little before slamming the door again. He had a plastic bag in his hand, and he handed it to Matthew before taking off his snowy outer clothes. Arthur jumped up and began inspecting the American.

"Can I help you, sir?" Alfred asked, "Not even a hello, and you're already making me nervous…"

"I'm checking for hickies…" Arthur replied simply.

Matthew dropped his head in both hands and laughed loudly into them before looking up, and flushing deeply, "Arthur! You damn Brit!"

"I'm sorry! I worry about my little Alfie and his various boyfriends…" Arthur replied, "If I check your wallet will I not find that condom you stashed there last week?"

"INAPPROPRIATE, ARTHUR!" Matthew shouted, laughing too hard to make things coherent.

"You're just lovely, Arthur, really…" Alfred said, rolling his eyes and shoving Arthur out of his way. "Shall we begin crafting?"

Matthew glanced down at the bag and moved the three to the kitchen, where he began setting up the Ukrainian eggs… without the help of the back of the box. He mixed the dies and made the dippers by himself. He found the candles and began sticking the tool into the flame before putting the beeswax into the top and beginning to draw. Arthur and Alfred tried to follow Matthew's lead, but they lost him as he fluidly began drawing and dipping.

A few hours later, the phone rang, and Arthur gave up on drawing on his egg to get the phone.

"Hello? Oh. Hello Francis. Yes, this is Arthur. No. Yes. We're making Ukrainian eggs. Yes. I guess it is a spring craft. Matthew is remembering stuff, though. Yes. Okay. Here he is…" Arthur said, handing the phone to Matthew, who paused in drawing the last little bit on his egg.

"Mon petit Mathieu!" Francis cooed into the phone.

"Allo, Francois. Comment ca va?" Matthew asked, moving the phone conversation to the living room while his housemates continued in struggling to read directions and catch up with their French-Canadian friend.

"Ca va tres bien, Mathieu. Ecoute. Est-ce que tu veux diner avec moi?" Francis asked. "C'est ne pas romantique…"

"Juste parler avec moi?" Matthew questioned.

"Oui… parler de… Arthur et moi…" Francis pressed, a little ambiguity in his voice.

"Ah, bon? Interessant…" the French-Canadian replied, a slight smile appearing on his lips. "Quand est-ce que nous dinons?"

"Samedi?"

"Bon. Ou est-ce que nous dinons?"

"La café Monde?"

"Oui? A quelle heure?"

"Sept heure demie."

"Oui, bon. A bientot~" Matthew replied, filing the information in his head.

"A bientot, Mathieu. Au revoir."

"Au revoir, Francois…"

Matthew returned to the kitchen to put the phone on the cradle.

"What was all that?" Alfred asked, finally at the point where he could melt off the wax on his egg and his patterns would show up in the different dye colors. Matthew sat and poked a hole in the bottom of his egg, letting the insides ooze into a metal bowl that already held Alfred's egg insides.

"That was a call from Francis…"

"Did he ask you over to his house for dinner? Because I heard you say 'yes' a lot into the phone…" Alfred pressed.

"Non, Alfred," Matthew laughed, "He just called to ask me to dinner. Just as friends…" he saw the look both the Brit and the American were giving him, "He wants to… to talk…"

"What about?" Alfred asked, still not trusting the Frenchman.

"Nothing important. We're friends. He wants to have dinner with me and I want to go. I'll be gone Saturday night. Lovino and I have a date Friday, as well…"

"Goodness, you're just busy this weekend…" Arthur commented, "How about you stay home on Sunday night and we watch Gilmore Girls before falling asleep in a pile on the couch. Then we can wake up all groggy and push each other off the couch and grumble, until we get take our showers and get coffee into our systems so we can all get to work and be our loveliest…"

Matthew and Alfred laughed, but nodded at their British friend.

Matthew finished his egg and went to the cupboard; he took out some rice and began putting the rice onto a small plate. Alfred glanced at him, "What are you doing, Mattie?"

"… I, I thought that the eggs would look better on rice… I guess. I guess… I guess someone in my past taught me how to do this…" Matthew said, staring off into a space with a cute little smile. Arthur and Alfred knew he was trying to picture this person's face, now that the memory was established. Matthew snapped out of it quickly and placed his and Alfred's finished eggs onto the rice. He arranged the table so that the plate was in the middle.

"Tres joli," Arthur said, smiling at the new table decoration.

He placed his finished egg on to the plate and got up to see what it looked like along with Alfred. The three men stood in a line for a few minutes. Then Arthur snapped out of his mind and began cleaning up the materials. Alfred was next to begin helping. Finally, Matthew began to help. That girl… he thought, who was she?

~*~

Translations from French:

Mon petit Mathieu – "My little Matthew"

Allo, Francois – "Hello (used for the phone), Francis"

Comment ca va – "How are you?"

Ca va tres bien – "I am very good"

Ecoute – "Listen"

Est-ce que tu veux diner avec moi – "Will you go to dinner with me?"

C'est ne pas romantique – "(This) isn't romantic…"

Juste parler avec moi – "Just to talk with me?"

Oui… parler de… Arthur et moi – "Yes… to talk about… Arthur and me…"

Ah, bon? Interessant – "Oh, really? Interesting"

Quand est-ce que nous dinons – "When are we dining?"

Samedi – "Saturday"

Bon. Ou est-ce que nous dinons – "Good. Where will we be dining?"

A quelle heure – "At what time?"

Sept heure demie – "Seven thirty"

Oui, bon. A bientot – " Yes, good. See you later"

Tres joli – "Very cute"

~*~

*coughs* I think you know who 'that girl' will wind up being. And I'm beginning to make Alfred and Arthur like Lorelei and Rory in Gilmore Girls. I think I should be stopped.

I know it already takes me like, two weeks, but next week, for me, is my Thanksgiving Break. I'm going to LA, and I'll bring my laptop. I don't know if I'll have internet, but I will difentely write the next chapter like the wind. I have to practice writing two lovely ladies who will show up really soon~

Anyway, here's another chapter, mon amis. Please review if you have a chance (and even if you don't. Ana loves to see your smiling reviews in her email inbox~)

Ciao~

~Anastasie~