The next few weeks after that passed rather uneventfully for Matthew. Sure, there had been a few gang brawls now and again, but it was nothing big. Arthur's arm was slowly starting to heal (because Matthew was such a great caretaker). Alfred seemed to be unfased by the things going on around them- despite his casted arm, Arthur was getting particularily hit up on, as well as Francis.
However, Matt wasn't worried about this so much either. He'd been spending quite a bit of time now with Gilbert, in fact, he was spending almost every free moment he had. Though they hadn't progressed anywhere romantically (much to Mattie's growing dissappointment- they hadn't kissed again since day 2) but they were great friends now. During school lunches, Matt would eat outside and Gilbert would be waiting for him, always with a sandwhich that he shared with the creatures that flew by. No one on campus seemed bothered by this, and although Matthew couldn't fathom why he couldn't really bring himself to care either.
Sometimes Katyusha would sit with them and coo over the birds that Gilbert seemed to attract like a magnet. However, Elizaveta seemed to be avoiding Matthew as of late. The one time he'd talked with Elizaveta she seemed enthralled with him, or more like his relationship with Gilbert. But he understood her attitude towards him - when he saw her in the hall at school a few days after their meeting, he'd asked to see the camera so he could delete the photo. She'd seemed angered with him, and when she pulled up the picture on her device, he saw a plainly obvoius Allied symbol sewn to his shirt sleeve.
And then he'd realized she was a part of the Axis. However, it seemed as if Elizaveta was really the only one around them who cared about anything.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder, if Gilbert and her are so close, does that mean there's something he's not telling me? But Gilbert seemed not to care that Matthew was a part of the Allies, so even if Gilbert was a member of the Axis, he didn't see why he should care either.
Boy, was he wrong.
All was quiet in the main branch of the Allied household, the Kirkland-Bonefoy residence. The past few days had remained peaceful between the 2 gangs, there had been absolutely no action going on. This seemed to disturb no one, all of them enjoying the short little break from their activities.
The steady hum of the washing machine could be heard in the room next door as Arthur and Matthew sat in silence, debating over the cards held between their fingers. Matthew could see Arthur was thinking hard about his plan for trade-out. His (huge) eyebrows had a tiny glimmer of sweat over them, and his tongue was stuck out in thought (Alfred would always laugh about that). His hand tentatively reached out, and he took a card from the stack in the middle, closing his eyes and then flipping it over to peer at it quickly. His face lit up.
Gosh, Arthur had a horrible poker face.
"Fold." Matthew said quietly, barely heard over the buzz in the room adjacent.
Arthur made a dissapointed face, obviously displeased that he couldn't squeeze more money out of his younger brother. Ruefully, he slid the poker chips off the edge of the table, mumbling, "And I had 3 of a kind too." Matthew couldn't help but notice that Arthur's mumble was just as loud as his own normal talking voice. Real sad. He thought to himself.
And then he and Arhur found themselves 3 feet off their seats, suspended in mid air as Alfred swung open the wooden door behind them with a BANG. The dirty blonde was panting heavily in the doorway, his frame bent over in exhaustion.
"Alfred, you bloody gi-" Arthur started, but was cut off rather quickly.
"It's Francis!" Alfred yelled, and suddenly the room was silent. Even the washing machine seemed to be on hold, waiting for an explanation to the situation. "It's the Axis, they've got him! They bound him up and are hostaging him in their house!"
Arthur was off the floor at once, grabbing the nearest thing he could find as a weapon (the wooden kendo stick he'd stolen from Japan), and was already pushing the dirty blonde not-twin out of the doorway. "Those fucking arses!" He was yelling now too, and the rest of the house seemed to erupt in a cacophony along with it.
Quickly trying to avoid a bad situation, Matthew grabbed a hold on Arthur's still good shoulder. "Wait, England!" He yelled / whispered, (he couldn't tell with his own voice) "Let's think about this a second. The Axis expect us to barge in after him, won't they?"
"Who cares!" Alfred threw himself into the conversation.
"Well, I can understand why you don't." Matthew stated, flipping his blonde waves in Alfred's direction. "But Arthur, it's not like you and I to just jump the gun, eh?" Arthur actually seemed pensive about this, his emerald eyes glazed over in deep thought. "We need to think about this. Let's just approach the house quietly, and we'll decide what to do when we get a good look at the advange points of the house, alright?"
Alfred was growing impatient, like always, tapping his foot on the floor and adding to the already noise-destroyed household. "Alright, we'll do that then, Mattie." The firmiliar boy flinched at the similar nickname. "But come on already, let's go."
The house- no, mansion- was way larger than any of them would have thought. The stone building was filled with gigantic windows and two-story doors, and Matt guessed there must have been at least 20 different rooms in the house. At least six of them were probably bedrooms (who needs 6 bedrooms?). A wooden veranda wrapped itself around the second story, and small balcony's protruded over those from the third. A beautiful garden speckeld the back yard, dotted in the center with a gazebo and several old benches.
Well, at least the garden gave them cover to sneak in through. Currently, they were wading through the flowers and plants, prickers catching in their jeans and pollen tickling their noses. Matt couldn't help but roll his eyes at the irony of the situation. Really, a gang prancing through a flower garden? Man, if anyone caught them, they'd be suffering through hell for it.
"Shit, you guys, something's caught on my foot!" Said a startled American, and the alarm was off. Speak of the devil.
Germany was on their tail in an instant, charging towards America with determination. However, England would have none of that. Quickly, he leapt in the way, cutting off the bulky man's path and shouting out behind him, "Go on ahead! And let Matthew do the rest of the sneaking!"
Alfred whined, but turned around to run to their left. They were approaching the back of the house now, and broken out of their flowery prison. However, the alarm was still going off, blaring harshly in their ears and leaving a deaf ringing sound inbetween the noises. Matthew outstretched his hand to the similar blonde and they both halted, eyes flickering in all directions.
"Shh, Alfred. Someone else is coming!" Matthew said, putting a finger up to his mouth for emphasis. Alfred did as he was told, and when the noise died down for a breif second, sure enough a distinct rustling of footsteps could be heard. They whipped their heads simultaneously around, and before they knew it, Alfred's feet had been pulled out from under him. Now he was on the ground, with a black haired Asian looking boy standing over him. He held a gun in his hands, and the laser sight left a red dot directly between the down man's forhead.
Matthew gasped and instinctively took a step backwards. His legs hit the metal of a railing, cutting off his path. The material was cool on the back of his exposed legs, and it was doing a good job of slowing down Matthew's now quickly beating heart.
However, he knew Alfred could defend himself. And the other proved this point by quickly lashing out his fist, grabbing the black haired boy's wrist and twisting it so the gun was pointed away. The kid's eyes widened breifly, shocked and soon Alfred was on his feet, flipping the position. He pulled out a rather large looking pistol, pointing it directly at the kid's stomach. He wasn't aiming very well, however when Matthew's purple eyes scanned over the large amount of ammunition his step brother had brought with him, he realized why. So it was a sub-machine gun. Which meant aiming wasn't all that important. It was so like Alfred to pick out a semi-automatic high tech weapon only used by government officals and military members.
And suddenly shells were flying around like crazy, each trying to hit their own target. Alfred had taken his cover around the edge of the brick fence they'd just exited from, and the other found a makeshift place around the corner of the house. They each took turns poking out their heads, searching for a quick and easy shot before firing. Most shots missed, ricocheting off the sides of the rock each was stading behind. Matthew was finding himself ducking every few seconds with his hands over his head, and with a smart decision he hurtled himself over the metal railing blocking his path and ducked under a patio table. For once he was glad for his invisibility.
A scream rung out over the noise of the still flaring alarm, and Matthew's heart skipped a beat. Shit, Alfred had been hit. He looked over and saw his nearly identical brother bent over in pain, his hands desperately trying to cover up a bunch of blood pouring out of his leg. The Asian enemy made his mistake now, and turned his body around the corner to see the damage done.
Quickly realizing his chance, Alfred picked up the gun and abandoned the wound for a second, firing six consecutive shots and effectively hitting his target. The man's body collapsed, falling to the ground in a fountain of blood. He wouldn't die, Matthew realized, but he wouldn't be involved anymore in this fight. Neither would Alfred, who was currently rendered barely mobile. The younger blonde would probably stay on sight because he was stubborn, but he wouldn't be of much use.
Letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Matthew turned towards the house a couple yards away and looked for his way inside.
AN:// Hey guys, I've come down with a horrible cold. I've overdosed on 4 different medications and was put in the hospital for a day, so sorry the chapter may have taken longer than you expected. Disclaimer: If I owned hetalia, Russia would be my hitman, Canada would be my huggable plushie doll, and Gilbert would be my lover. Sadly, I don't own it.