Chapter 19
Before Arthur could go downstairs for breakfast, Francis waylaid him at the door.
"How are you?" he asked. Arthur was a little surprised, and blushed.
"Oh, err, I'm fine. Better, anyway, than I was last night."
"That's good to hear. This is unrelated, but I am breaking up with you," Francis said matter-of-factly. Arthur scowled.
"What?"
"I talked with Matthew last night, and we are going to patch things up. I cannot expect him to be my boyfriend again if I already have one."
"So…you're just dumping me? Just like that?" Arthur said. He would have said more, but Patrick came down the hall and ruffled his hair, despite Arthur's attempts to dodge.
"It's okay, Arty. I know it feels like torment to get dumped when you're fifteen, but you'll get over it in a week or two. Mum will be sad she'll have to stop the wedding plans, though," he joked, as if not even Arthur's own family took him and Francis seriously as a couple.
Arthur contemplated going right back into his bedroom and not coming out, but Francis just chuckled and threw an arm around his shoulders.
"Come on…now you are free to confess to your roommate, no?" Francis persuaded. Arthur scowled, shoving off his arm.
"So when you're pissed at Matthew, you want to date me to make him jealous, and when you want to date Matthew, you want me to date Alfred so that Matthew isn't chasing after him?" Arthur clarified. His old friend scowled petulantly and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I do not care that much about Alfred. He is no threat to me at all," Francis insisted. Arthur rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, frog. And you're an insensitive prat, by the way. First, you killed my unicorn, and now you dump me a week before Christmas, in front of my entire family," Arthur accused.
"Watch your tone. I could share something else with your family that would really embarrass you," Francis provoked. Arthur scowled, but pushed him down the last three or four stairs just for good measure.
"You're bluffing!"
"I am not! Let us just say that I have a video…of a certain prince…while under the influence…"
"You didn't! I'm going to bloody kill you! It's on your phone, isn't it?" And Arthur came charging after him, fists swinging, trying to locate his phone in his pocket and failing to do so. They brawled their way into the sunroom, where breakfast was typically served. Their mothers instantly started squawking at them as they'd done when they were little boys, attempting to untangle them.
"What's the meaning of this?" Arthur's mother demanded. Arthur wormed around her and managed to pull rather harshly on a fistful of Francis's hair.
"He's an arsehole!"
"He is just upset because I have dumped him," Francis said. He pretended to be more hurt than he was, and rubbed tenderly at his scalp. "He abuses me!" Francis's mother smiled, but babied her son anyway.
"I'll show you abuse, you bloody wanker!"
"Arthur! Watch your language!" His father chided, having just entered the breakfast room. He sat with his paper calmly, as if totally undisturbed by the scene Arthur and Francis were making. Of course, a similar scene played out nearly every time Francis visited, and nobody had really expected Arthur's revelation from the previous night to change anything. Colin and his wife were sharing amused smiles, and Patrick was already wolfing down his first plate of food obliviously.
"Urgh, let me go already!" Arthur whined. His mother had her arms wrapped lovingly around his shoulders, smiling against his unruly hair.
"Are you calm now, poppet?" she asked. Arthur glared at Francis (who was taking his seat across the table) and nodded. Arthur's mother kissed his temple and released him. Arthur sat with a huff, doing his best interpretation of a stormy, little black raincloud. His family (accustomed to this as well) merely continued with breakfast.
"So, tell us about who you are really dating at school," his mother said, a teasing little smile on her face. Dylan, who had just arrived, rolled his eyes.
"Urgh, do we have to hear about it at the breakfast table?" Dylan whined. His wife, who looked very traditional and uptight, sneered unpleasantly. Just to spite them, Arthur decided he felt talkative.
"Francis is in love with a boy from Canada named Matthew," Arthur ratted. Across the table, Francis blushed and scowled at him, clutching his butter knife rather tightly.
"Two can play that game. Arthur has a huge crush on Alfred Jones—who knows Arthur likes him and has not done anything about it all term, I might add. At least the boy I love is my boyfriend…or will be again, soon."
"Man, you kids are so weird. You're only freshman! Don't you have better things to do than date?" Patrick chimed in. There was a long moment of silence and then Arthur grumbled a response.
"I'm in the music and craft clubs," he said. "And I've been pretty busy in student council."
"I'm so pleased you're joining groups of children your own age, Arthur," his mother said. Francis's mother smiled at her own son and fussed a bit with his hair, which made him scowl and bat at her hands.
"And what about you? You never tell me anything in your e-mails. Who is this boy you like so much?" she asked. Despite her friendliness, and obvious desire to connect with him, Francis rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"It is nothing. Can't we talk about something else?"
So the topic of conversation shifted again, and both Arthur and Francis eagerly wished the vacation would go by speedily, for the sake of their sanity.
USUK
"It's a shame we'll have to lose a day together getting these braces put on, but it really is for the best. Stop fidgeting, dear," Helen said to her wiggling son. Alfred was currently lying prone on an orthodontist chair, with large moulds of his teeth crammed in his mouth, waiting for the putty to harden.
"This last one should almost be done. Once I've had a look at it, we can start applying the braces." The orthodontist was a sinfully chipper man, and Alfred desperately wanted to bite him the next time he put his fingers in his mouth. Already, his jaw was aching and his teeth felt like they'd been tugged on with pliers.
"How long before he can eat normal food?" his mother asked. Alfred's eyes went wide in horror.
'She didn't tell me I wouldn't be able to eat! This has to stop!' Alfred thought desperately. But it was too late. His mouth was full of plaster and the assistant was preparing the evil metal contraptions. 'I'm never going to get kissed ever again. This blows!'
"You'll be able to eat normally for the most part after about a week or so. Until then, your mouth will be a little sore and you'll probably prefer soft foods. You should avoid anything sticky or too brittle, and be careful of foods like apples and carrots. They're good for you, but if you aren't careful about how you eat them they can do damage. But don't worry, lad. Your teeth aren't in that bad of shape. You'll probably have these off in about eight or nine months, if you follow your plan," the orthodontist said.
"At least they won't have to be on for very long. If you wear the bands, and use the headgear at night, they can be off as early as this summer, darling," Helen promised. Alfred shot her a betrayed look, which caused her normally icy heart to melt ever so slightly.
"We can go to McDonalds after this and I'll let you get a milkshake," she bartered. Alfred's eyes lit up like Christmas tree lights. He loved McDonalds, but considering his parents were health-freaks, it was a rare occasion when he got to go.
"Alright, we can take this out now," the orthodontist said. He passed the mould of Alfred's bottom teeth to his assistant for her to clean it off, and he grabbed the x-rays of Alfred's jaw. "I'm just going to look over these in my office and then I'll be right back."
"Mom, do I have to do this?" Alfred whined.
"Alfred, don't be so ungrateful. Some children are just stuck with ugly teeth, but because I love you, I'm getting you the treatment you need. The least you could do is be mature about it," she scolded. Alfred pouted. Taking pity on him, the pretty assistant brought over a plastic box.
"You'll get to pick the color of your bands. That's kind of cool, huh?" she said. Alfred peeked at the available colors, reluctantly interested. "These ones here glow in the dark," she said. Alfred flashed a small smile.
"Oh, Alfred, don't get some ridiculous colors. Just get silver," his mother said, glancing up from her fashion magazine. The assistant winked at Alfred.
"Sorry, but the policy is that the patient gets to choose. You like these, yeah?" she asked. Alfred nodded a bit shyly. His mother rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything more about it.
"That is kinda cool," Alfred said. The assistant laughed, revealing that she had perfect, shiny white teeth.
"I liked getting all the colors at once when I had mine. You should do that next time," she advised. Alfred smiled, but it made his cracked lips hurt. He pulled out his phone, and read a text from Mattie asking him how it was going. He replied (this totally blows!) and then the orthodontist was back. They started the application, and two hours later, Alfred had a mouth full of metal that glowed in the dark.
His mother gave his shoulder a little squeeze as they left the office. "Okay, honey?"
"No," Alfred replied, some drool escaping down his chin. His mother bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. Alfred had four rubber bands total, two on each side, and special headgear in his hand to wear at night. He could barely open his jaw due to the bands, and his whole head was aching.
"Come on then, I'll drop you back off at your dorm and then go get you your junk food."
Alfred was so miserable that he didn't even think McDonalds could make him feel better.
USUK
Matthew enjoyed taking walks, especially when it felt like the campus was totally empty. Alfred was getting his braces put on during the first official morning of vacation, which left Matthew rather alone. He started walking the path he typically took with Francis, mulling over their phone call from the night before as he did so, but for the first time, he noticed what appeared to be a walking trail that led off into the woods.
Matthew trudged through a bit of snow until he stood peering into the pretty, snow-drenched forest. He glanced behind him, wondering if it was smart to go into the woods alone, but decided no harm could come from it if he didn't go too far. He picked up a stray rock that was rather sharp, and gouged a little mark in the tree. If he made a trail, he could enjoy his walk without worrying about getting lost. He spotted a few pretty winter birds, hopping about energetically on the branches above his head, and in the distance, a lone deer considered him as she stood nibbling on some shrubs. He went deeper and deeper into the woods, until he spotted some tracks that were definitely from a human. Curious, Matthew began to follow them, still carefully marking his path.
He walked for at least another half hour before he spotted the shed. It was covered with dead overgrowth, and clearly hadn't been given any attention for years. The metal was rusty and dilapidated looking. It was a fairly large structure, leading Matthew to assume it might have been the storage shed used by whoever maintained the schools' grounds. Perhaps it had been abandoned when the newer one was built closer to campus.
Regardless of how it came to exist in the woods, the front door was slightly ajar, and the tracks led inside. Matthew might have been scared or nervous, but the rather telling strains of heavy metal music he heard led him to suspect who was inside.
He pushed the door open slightly, peeking in. Sure enough, with his jacket discarded and wearing only short sleeves despite the snow, Gilbert sat in the shed…surrounded by tons of potted plants. It was warm inside, due to the heat emitted from an electric heater in the corner, and the spacious shed was illuminated by a haphazard trail of electric bulbs. Gilbert's hands were stained with dirt, and as the awful music blasted out of his ipod speakers, he lovingly tended to the little flowers and herbs.
Matthew took a sniff of the air, which was a little smoky looking, and realized with wide eyes that he was smelling weed. Gilbert turned to tend a different plant, and his reddish eyes landed on Matthew. Clearly stoned, the other boy just smiled lazily.
"Hey man, what's up?" he asked, as if it were perfectly normal for Matthew to discover his illegal little greenhouse. Matthew opened the door a little further, wanting to escape the cold for a bit…and curious, despite himself.
"What on earth is all this?" he asked, his eyes trailing over all the pots—some blooming, others not.
"It's me and Mogen's awesome little garden away from home—by invitation only. Never thought Mogens was talking about sending you here, though. Did you come for the Purple Kush or the Super Silver Haze? I got a special running on the haze—its good shit, man."
"Uh…what?"
"Ah, first time buying some Mary Jane?" Gilbert asked, standing up and dusting off his hands, an excited smile on his face. Matthew looked like a startled baby deer. Oblivious to his confusion, Gilbert pulled a tiny little bag out of his backpack. "We're on vacation, and you got nothing to do but bake your ass off. Go for the haze, man."
"I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding…" Matthew said. Gilbert cursed.
"Fuck. Did Mogens tell you I'd take a b.j. instead of pounds? I told that asshat we gotta cover startup costs. He can't keep blowin' our profits…ha…get it? Blowing our profits? Don't know why I'm laughing. Fuckin' perv has gone through half the freshman class already and it's not even spring. He probably thought you were a girl."
"Gilbert…what the hell is going on?" Matthew asked. The other boy just sighed, and undid his belt. Matthew's eyes went wide in surprise.
"Fine. 'Cause Mogens fucked up our deal, the first time only you can give me a b.j., but next time you gotta pay, okay?"
"I'm not…I don't…I'm not s-sucking you off for weed!" Matthew finally spat out. It was too late, though. Gilbert already had his pants down around his ankles and Matthew's jaw dropped. Who knew stoner Gilbert was hung like a horse? Matthew felt his cheeks flush with color. Gilbert smirked, his eyes devilish.
"That's right, teddy bear. Take a picture of this awesomeness—it'll last ya longer."
"Oh my god. I'm…I'm leaving now," Matthew said. Or at least, that's what he intended to do, but Gilbert was just letting it all hang out and honestly, Matthew had never seen one so impressive. At first he was just blushing, but then he started giggling.
"Dude, get the fuck in here. I'm hotboxin' this shit and you're letting the smoke out." Gilbert pulled him inside by his jacket, closing the door behind him. The smoke in the small greenhouse was pungent and thick in the air, and Matthew coughed a bit. When he recovered from his cough, Gilbert had extended a blunt in front of his face. He was still half-naked, without a care in the world, his hair wild and disheveled and his lips twisted into a devil-may-care grin.
Matthew took the blunt, knowing he was probably going to regret this…but he was still technically single, right? And it was Gilbert, the boy who he was most curious about (aside from Francis, of course) in their whole year.
He was already feeling a bit light-headed, but as soon as the smoke hit his lungs, he started rolling. Gilbert took the blunt back, puffed on it, then handed it back to Mattie. The soft-spoken Canadian boy took it again, with a little less hesitation this time.
"After you inhale, take another quick breath," Gilbert advised. Matthew couldn't believe just seconds ago he'd been taking an innocent walk, and now he was in a shed getting high with the school stoner, who was undressing, but there he was, and he couldn't bring himself to care about it overly much.
He couldn't really care about anything, except the fact that his skin felt amazing and hot and he wanted his jacket off…and he really could not stop staring at Gilbert's monstrous cock.
"How do you walk with that thing?" he asked. Gilbert sat beside him, playing with himself without a care in the world. He smiled.
"Oh, I do all kinds of shit with it. You feeling it?"
Matthew had just tossed his expensive pea coat onto the dirt floor, covered in muddy snow, without thinking twice about it.
'Oh yeah, I'm definitely feeling something,' Matthew thought. Or had he said that out loud?
"Can I touch it?" he asked, giggling a few seconds later. Gilbert shrugged.
"Whatever dude. I'm totally not gay, but my dick is like a work of art. Everyone should get to enjoy it, you know?"
"Yeah," Matthew agreed, forgetting all about his usual hang-ups and insecurities and reaching for the other boy's penis. He and Francis had made out a lot, and they cuddled and held hands, but they'd never actually gone all the way. Matthew was too insecure about his body to let Francis see him naked, though he'd kept his boyfriend happy with oral. Francis raved about how good he was at it.
Matthew was curious if Gilbert would feel the same…
"Fuck yeah," Gilbert moaned, as Matthew took him in. Matthew worked his lips around Gilbert's head, feeling floaty and rebellious and sexy all at once. He'd never done something like this—he was just boring Matthew, who never got high or had sex with a stranger. He felt like a total slut, and it was turning him on.
Gilbert was fully hard now, lazily pumping his hips into Matthew's mouth. Time began to slip away, and Matthew used every trick he knew of, but Gilbert lasted for an incredibly long time. All Matthew knew was that his jaw was aching before the other boy tugged him off and came in his hand after a few harsh tugs.
Gilbert fixed his pants, and then casually slipped his hand inside Matthew's unbuttoned jeans. Matthew's eyes went wide at the sensation—it felt a million times better than when he touched himself—and came embarrassingly quickly. He sat slumped against the shed wall, dazed, his shirt off and his fly undone, his limp manhood exposed.
'Holy fuck!' Matthew thought. His brain didn't seem able to process anything more than that one thought, which rolled through his head on repeat. Gilbert pulled up his baggy jeans as he stood and wiped his hand off on a spare rag. He checked on a few more of his plants and changed the song on his ipod. He shuffled around in his backpack, produced the little plastic bag full of herbs, and tossed it at Matthew.
"I'm still not gay, or whatever, but that was fucking hardcore man. You can pay in blowjobs any day. Now get outta here. Mogens will probably be here any minute with the guy who was actually supposed to find this place." Gilbert winked at him, and Matthew slowly did up his pants and stood. He picked up his jacket, seeing the mud stains but not really seeing them, feeling nothing except the urge to sleep for days and days.
He stumbled out into the snowy woods as if it were an alien planet. Everything was crisp and startlingly beautiful. He felt amazing. He was filthy and sweaty and he'd just given Gilbert Beilschmidt a blowjob in an abandoned shed where he was growing weed…but Matthew felt totally badass.
He smirked in the beautiful, clean air. Francis had certainly never done that before. Carrying his dirty little secret like a war medal pinned over his furiously pumping heart, Matthew began stumbling back towards the school, eyes red-rimmed and his world tilting and tumbling like he was looking through a kaleidoscope.
USUK
It was Christmas Eve. Alfred and Matthew baked cookies with Alfred's mother in the empty cooking classroom, and because they were using Helen's recipe, they were absolutely perfect (even though Helen didn't eat any of them). Alfred gave Matthew his Christmas present—a comically huge bottle of maple syrup—and Matthew gave Alfred his gift, which was a story he had written.
"I know you don't like to read, but I wrote it just for you. I hope you'll enjoy it," Matthew said shyly. Alfred gave his friend a grin, glancing casually at the first page. He was less than psyched at the length (because he knew he'd have to read it) but he also knew Matthew was a talented writer and he'd no doubt find the story interesting.
"Thanks, Mattie. You must have put a lot of work into this!" Alfred said. His friend just blushed and smiled, pleased with the attention his story was getting. Helen also favored Matthew with a smile. He wasn't a flashy kid, nor was he anything special per say, but he was incredibly kind to her son and seemed to genuinely adore him. He was also fairly normal, which was a huge plus, and it was the first time Helen had seen her son interact with another boy without mentioning super heroes and space crusaders every two minutes.
But Helen was a smart woman, and she never missed the details. She knew Matthew was gay, that was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes in their head, but less obvious was the way Alfred interacted with him. It was almost the lack of interaction that made it stand out. For instance, while baking the cookies, Alfred had reached for the oven mit at the same time Matthew had gone for it, and the both of them seemed to freeze, as if remembering something that had happened between them that made things awkward. Then Alfred moved away, as if determined not to touch or brush up against the other boy in any sort of way.
Helen watched them closely all week, and she tried to include the Canadian boy in as many of their outings about London as she possibly could. Now, at the end of her visit, she was fairly convinced that something was different about Alfred, beyond how he'd grown, and how his voice had lowered ever-so-slightly. Her mind kept coming back to the pictures that had hit the tabloids of her son's visit with the Queen—which had been late night fodder for months. Was her son really gay, or was she just imagining things because that was what everyone was saying back home?
She decided she'd have to speak with Alfred about it first, and then with his father when she returned home. They would decide what to do from there. She really didn't care who her son fooled around with, but their family was high-profile and in the tumultuous world of politics. Her husband would be up for re-election in just three short years, and having a gay son could dramatically affect his numbers. They'd talked about the possibility briefly, but decided to forego further discussion until Helen had a chance to see Alfred over the break.
"Let's save this one for Santa! It's the best looking one," Alfred said happily. "Too bad Arthur's not here. He'd love your cookies, mom," Alfred said casually, shooting her a smile dripping in metal. He'd adjusted with no small amount of whining to the braces, but he really did look pathetic. With glasses, braces, and that awkward look about him still, Alfred sometimes made her wonder if her baby hadn't been accidentally switched with someone else's at the hospital. It was not just looks, either—Alfred was too sweet to be the child of herself and her husband. He was kind hearted where they were ruthless, simple-minded where they were sharp, and innocent where they were corrupt.
She sometimes wondered what she had done to deserve such a good kid, even though she didn't always know how to express her love for him. She tried to do what was best for him, treating him like some never-ending make-over project in the process. She wondered why her son didn't hate her for it, and wondered if he would finally hate them if they had to drive a hard line on the gay issue. He was a sweet boy, but even Alfred surely had his limits. She wondered what the next Christmas would be like for their family, and hoped it would still be intact.
Matthew cracked a joke in his quiet way, and Alfred laughed happily, his blue eyes sparkling. Helen found herself incredibly glad that Alfred was spending this important year away from their influence—enjoying being a teenager for once. He'd made friends for himself, and gotten involved, and all in all Helen was incredibly proud of him.
He came over, once again offering her a cookie and glass of milk.
"Sure you don't want one, mom? It's not gonna make you fat—you're the prettiest girl in the world, ya know," Alfred said sweetly. Feeling oddly emotional, Helen took a tiny bite of the cookie and a sip of the milk.
"They're good, Alfred. I'm very glad I'm getting to spend Christmas with you this year. You know that, right?" she said. Matthew smiled at them, and pretended to be absorbed in cleaning up the kitchen.
"Of course, mom. I'm glad you're here, too. I'm even glad about the braces…kind of. I don't want to have messed up teeth—then I'll really never get a girlfriend."
She saw right through his brave smile, as she always had. She gave his cheek an affectionate pat, and wondered just how much damage that smile was trying to hide. She should have never been given a son like Alfred. They really were a terrible match.
"You know…I've always pushed this girlfriend business, but I think that was a mistake," she said. Alfred's eyes widened in what was obvious fear—he thought she knew. Her son's whole body was tense, as if waiting for a blow. She knew whatever she said next would impact her impressionable son deeply, and so she considered her words carefully.
"I think…it's best not to get into anything too serious, too soon. Even if you really like someone, and let's assume this someone is another boy, don't rush into anything. Next year you'll be back home, and more in the public eye than ever before. You really can't date just anyone. We should talk about it as a family first. What do you think?" she asked. She had never seen her son look so confused.
"I…I don't understand. Mattie, can you give us a minute?" Alfred asked, feeling embarrassed. His friend ducked out of the kitchen after a quick nod. "I'm not gay. I don't know what made you think that, but I'm—"
"Alfred, darling, I'm not saying you are. Whether you're gay or straight—that's not really the issue. The issue is that whatever relationships you pursue are going to be seen through a magnifying glass. I don't know if it's Matthew you've got your eye on, or someone else entirely, but just know that any gay relationship you have is going to affect your father's career. I'm not saying you can't be gay, but I'm saying I want you to be sure—really sure—before you make that choice. You've changed and grown so much since coming here—I really couldn't be prouder—and part of why I'm so proud is that you're trying to really figure out who you are, and you aren't hiding in comic books anymore. I want you to grow into a strong, confident man who knows what he wants, but I also ask you consider the very public nature of our family's lives. Do you understand?" Helen could tell it was rather pointless to ask. The boy looked like someone had just asked him to calculate the distance between Earth and Mars in centimeters and divide mentally by thirteen.
"Let me just be straightforward with you. Matthew seems like a sweet enough boy, and Arthur is insanely popular in the media for being a teen heart throb. Either of them would be a good choice, but your father and I have heard that you sometimes hang around a Russian boy with questionable family ties, and that's what's really troubling us."
"Mom, I don't know how you know all this…and I'm glad you're not angry…but don't you want me to be straight? I looked into it, and I found out that there are these camps you can go to—"
"Alfred, darling, use your brain. Have you any idea how terrible it would look if your father and I allowed you to go to some right-wing, conservative extremist anti-gay camp? Your father may be a more conservative minded democrat, but he's still a democrat. We'd lose a huge support base in the gay community if that were to happen. Just put that silly little thought out of your head," she said. Alfred seemed to shrink inside his rugby jacket, as if his mother's opinions and decisions about the topic were weighing him down to the ground. Seeing he was speechless, she continued on.
"No, your father and I have already discussed it somewhat, and we think this could be quite beneficial if we spin it right. Because we have a gay son, your father could throw his support behind more popular gay rights movements without losing touch with his older, more conservative supporters, but this could very easily slip into scandal. That's why it's important you choose carefully, and be absolutely certain this is what you want. I like Matthew well enough, but dating Prince Arthur would certainly make headlines in a good way. Just avoid that Ivan boy. That's all I'm saying."
"So…you want me to be gay so dad can get more votes…but you just don't want me to be with Ivan, because his family is shady?" Alfred asked, finally putting it all together.
"Well, it's more complicated than that, but essentially that's what it boils down to. We care about your happiness, too, of course. I just want you to realize that we should handle this as a family."
"But…but I like Ivan. He's my friend, and he's a good person. He's just had a really hard time of it, and—" Alfred said, his eyes sparking with determination that had become familiar to his friends. His mother, however, had never seen him with such a look.
"So it is the Russian boy? I should have expected as much. Nothing can ever be simple with you, can it Alfred? Look, I think I'm being very reasonable. As long as you date someone presentable, your father and I will sort the rest out, but the Ivan boy is off limits. I mean it, Alfred. Really, even just a friendship could reflect badly on us."
Alfred stared at her, really stared at her, as if measuring her up. She stood, arching a perfect brow, as if daring him to challenge her. After a long moment, Alfred hung his head, feeling horribly wronged somehow, and pushed past her to flee the room. Helen stared after him and sighed.
She'd hoped he would be happy that she'd given him her blessing to date a boy, but that hadn't gone at all as she'd planned.
A/N: So…some questionable stuff in this chapter. We have the first descriptive sex scene, and of course it would go to Gilbert. Shame on you Prussia, getting high with Holland (Mogens – got the name off a list the creator of Hetalia was considering for Holland) and soiling Canada's innocence! I hope you guys don't hate me. Well, at least Gilbert can't hate me, since I made him so impressive and what-not. :P
Also, I didn't plan for Alfred's mother to realize he was gay during her visit, but as sharp as I've made her, and as much speculation as there has been in the states after the Queen photos, it seemed like the topic would come up, and Helen is the sort of woman that would force her opinions about it onto Alfred before he was really ready for them.