A/N: Hey mein awesome peoples! I'm not dead! I'm sorry for taking so long but I lost my notebook for a while. I found it again though and finished up chapter 12. I understand if you all hate me but for those of you who are patient souls and have put up with me being a complete lazy ass I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. I love you all and I really hope that you forgive me for taking so long.

I've also been sick this past week. Well not really sick. My therapist prescribed me to take this pill that's supposed to help the ADHD medicine I already take. Well my body had a bad reaction to it. Ever since last Monday I've been sore all over my body, hell even my ears are sore. I've had horrible headaches and have had very little appetite, and overall just have not been myself. It really sucks especially since I'm not allowed to stop taking the medicine because it will make me go through something similar to with drawl symptoms that alcoholics get when quitting.

Overall, I'm in pain and I hate my life at the moment. However, I know that all of you beautiful people have been waiting for me so I'm going to say screw the headache and type this for you. So again, I'm terribly sorry for taking so long but he's the newest Chapter of My Red Eyed Guardian Angel.

Here we go, Chapter 12. Enjoy ^-^

Chapter XII

Gilbert's POV

We talk about anything and everything as Birdie directs me to his house. We arrive after about ten minutes in front of a nice, two-story home. I pull up and we climb out. I grab Birdie's backpack and the shopping bag that has his dirty clothes from yesterday in it out of the backseat.

We walk up to the door and Birdie unlocks it. He opens the door and calls out, "I'm back!"

A short man with messy, straw blonde hair, bright green eyes, and the most ginormous eyebrows I've ever seen (Beta Note: IGGY BROWS) enters the front hall wearing a sweater vest with a scowl on his face.

"Who the bloody hell are you and why do you have a key to my house?" he says in an angry British accent.

I look at Birdie in confusion and see that melancholy look on his face.

He sighs as if he's used to this, which is totally unawesome if he is, and says, "Dad, it's me, Matthew, your youngest son, the one who uses the art studio in the attic."

The British man just scoffs and replies, "I have no clue what you're talking about. I only have one son and his name is Alfred, not Matthew. Now get out of my house before I call the police."

Birdie stares at the man in shock and says in a voice so small that it's barely above a whisper, "Dad."

I look at the scowling Brit and feel anger growing inside me. How dare this man treat Birdie, his own son, like this? I clench my fists so hard that my fingernails dig into my palms. I'm one second from pummeling the Brit to a pulp when we hear the door behind us open.

All three of us turn to see a tall man with wavy, blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He has alight stubble on his chin and is looking at the three people in the front hall curiously.

"Francis, can you keep these two hooligans here so I can call the police? They just came in here and one of them is claiming to be our son," the British man says to the new man.

The blue eyed man who just walked in, the Brit called him Francis I believe, looks at the Brit with a confused expression on his face. He then looks at Birdie who is fidgeting and almost hiding behind me, then looks back at the Brit.

"Arthur, this IS our son. His name is Mattieu. We adopted him when he was six years old. He has his art studio up in the attic. You always mistake him for Alfred. He won the art award hanging on the wall right behind you," Francis says in a thick French accent.

The British man, Arthur, scrunches up his face in concentration before realization washes over his features. His eyes widen in shock.

"Oh, my God…Matthew, I'm so sorry. How could I ever forget you? I'm so sorry," he says, horrified at having forgotten his youngest son.

A look of relief passes over Birdie's face, and he smiles.

"It's okay, Dad. It's not your fault, just so long as you remember now."

I look at the three of them, shocked. How can they treat this so calmly? It's like it's a regular occurrence.

"No, it's not okay, Matthew. I almost called the police on you. Let me make it up to you, please," Arthur begs.

Birdie thinks for a moment before saying, "Can papa cook dinner tonight?"

"If that's what you want, so be it," Arthur replies with a nod.

"Now that we've fixed that, may you introduce us to your little friend, mon cher?" Francis asks, looking at me in a way that makes me feel like he's undressing me with his eyes. Birdie steps out from where he was standing behind me and takes a step forward.

"Gilbert, this is my Dad, Arthur Kirkland," he says, gesturing to the British man with the huge eyebrows, "and this is my Papa, Francis Bonnafoy." He gestures to the Frenchman.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sirs. Mein name is Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm new around here," I introduce myself, extending my hand for Francis to shake.

Arthur shakes my hand after Francis and raises one bushy eyebrow.

"So where do you come from, Gilbert?" he inquires.

"I just moved here with Mein bruder und mein großervater, from Duestchland," I explain. They give me odd looks and I realize I slipped back into German. According to Ludwig, I have a habit of doing that.

"Sorry, I have a habit of doing that without realizing it. I said that I just moved here with my brother and my grandfather from Germany," I explain.

"Ah, I see. So how did a handsome lad such as you meet our sweet little Mattieu?"

Birdie blushes scarlet, looking even more adorable then he normally does, and I have to use all my restraint to keep myself from kissing him or squealing.

"Well, I found Birdie stuck in his locker before class yesterday and he helped me find my first class. We share several of our classes," I explain.

"Yeah, and I was at Gil's house last night, and today he took me out on a…a date," Birdie says meekly.

I can't help but notice that Francis eyes seem to light up and sparkle at the word date.

"Ohonhonhon! A date, eh? So you are interested in mon petite Mattieu," He asks me waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Papa!" Birdie cries, looking absolutely mortified.

I try to stay professional so that I can make a good impression.

"With you permission, sirs, I would like to have the honor of dating your son."

Arthur looks somewhat impressed, and I hope that he is. I don't want him and Francis to try to prevent me and Birdie from being together

"Why don't you join us for dinner, Gilbert? I would like to get to know you before I judge whether or not you are worthy of dating my son," he suggests.

I swallow hard and nod my head.

"Well then. I shall have to begin dinner. Why don't you and Gil go play in you room till I call you down?" Francis suggests, and Birdies seems to visibly relax.

"Oui Papa. Merci," Birdie says, giving both of his fathers a hug before grabbing my hand and leading me up the stairs and down a hallway to a door with a maple leaf on it.

Birdie opens the door and we enter a room that could only belong to a die-hard Canadian. The walls are painted red and white, and are covered in hockey posters and signed hockey gear. Above the bed, a Canadian flag is hanging, and the duvet has the same flag printed on it.

Hockey gear sits in a corner next to a desk with a laptop covered in maple leaf stickers on it. A large dresser sits against the opposite wall and has several pictures on top of it.

On the bed is a stuffed animal, about the size of the average dog, that's a polar bear. It's curled up in a sleeping position and looks so real that I swear it looks like the thing is breathing.

Birdie closes his door and leans against it, sinking to the floor as if exhausted. I chuckle quietly.

"I'm so sorry about my parents. Dad is really strict about being a gentleman, and Papa can't seem to go five minutes without making a sexual joke," he says as he rests his head back against the door.

"Don't worry, Birdie. I care too much about you to get chased away by some crazy parents," I assure him.

I look back at his bed and approach it, getting a closer look at the polar bear that sits there.

"Cute stuffed bear," I say as I poke the nose.

Suddenly, two beady eyes open and blink at me. I stare at it with wide red orbs for a second in shock. The bear opens his mouth and chomps down on the hand that poked its nose, which was frozen in front of its face. Its teeth sink into my hand and I let out a scream (a very manly and awesome scream, mind you).

Birdie's eyes go wide and he jumps yup.

"Don't move, Gil," he tells me, rushing forward. He grabs the bear and attempts to pry its jaw open.

"Bad Kuma! Bad! Open up! Gilbert is NOT for you to eat! He is not food!"

A blonde teen runs in, screaming, "Don't fear! The hero has arrived!"

"Shut up, Al, and just help me get Kumajiro off of Gilbert!" Birdie yells at him.

At the appearance of the other blonde, the bear growls and bites down harder.

"Scieße! Just get the damn thing off of mein awesome hand," I yell in pain.

The other blonde hurries forward and grabs hold of the bear with Birdie. After several more minutes of prying and Gilbird flying down off my head to peck at the bear's head, we finally get it to let go of me. Gilbird is chirping angrily at the bear, which growls back. Somehow, after about a minute, the two animals seem to make peace. The bear pads off with Gilbird resting on his head.

We stare after them for a second in a mixture of shock and confusion before Birdie remembers my bleeding hand. He rushes me to the bathroom and pulls out a first aid kit. The other blonde kid follows us, stands at the door, and watches as Birdie cleans my hand with antibiotic.

"I'm so sorry, Gilbert. He's never done that to anyone before except Al and the Vet. I'm so so so sorry," he apologizes profusely.

"Chill, Birdie. I'll be fine. I've been through worse than this. Mind telling me, though, why you have a polar bear as a pet?"

"Oh, well he wandered out of the woods one day and seemed to take a liking to me. He's not too much of a hassle and has never gotten bigger than the size of a dog, so Arthur and Francis let me keep him. I named him after a stuffed bear that my parents gave me when I was little. I don't understand why he attacked you. He's usually very docile," Birdie explains to me.

"Yeah, what did you do to piss him off enough to make him do that?" the other blonde asks.

Now that I don't have a polar bear gnawing on my and I have a chance to better examine him, he's taller than Birdie by a few inches and has shorter hair that's sandier in color and has a cowlick sticking up over his right eye. He has black, rectangular-rimmed glasses and bright, sky blue eyes.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I'm the hero! Alfred F. Jones at your service," he says loudly with a blinding smile.

"Huh. Well, I guess the hero isn't as awesome as me, cause I'm the most awesome person ever," I reply.

The blonde instantly scowls at me.

"That's impossible! No one is more awesome than the hero, and that's me," he yells.

"Relax, Al. Be nice," Birdie says with a hint of warning in his voice. The warning is promptly ignored, or missed, as Alfred continues.

"I'm the captain of the football team, so I'm obviously more awesome than you."

"That shit you Americans call football is stupid with all the pads and crap. You want a real game, try rugby or real football, or as you call it soccer," I rebuff, smirking. Alfred now looks like he's about to murder me.

"What the hell are you saying!? Football is the greatest sport ever!" Alfred yells at me.

"Al, Stop it! Be nice!" Birdie cuts in with another warning glance at his brother.

"How can you say that, Mattie? He's insulting Football!"

"Al it's just a stupid sport. Who cares? Now leave my boyfriend alone!"

Alfred's eyes seem to bug out of his head and he yells with even more force then before.

"What?! You've been brainwashed Mattie! How can you date this guy? Just look at him! He's like the devil!"

I tense instantly, memories flashing in my mind of people giving me hate-filled stares and men threatening me with knives.

There a loud crack, and Alfred's head is turned to the side as a large red mark is forms on his cheek. Birdie is standing in front of him with his hand raised and an absolutely furious look on his face. I put two and two together as I stare at them. Birdie slapped his brother, the star quarterback of the school's football team, full on in the face. There's silence as Alfred turns his head back to look at Birdie, the shock evident on his face, as his mind processes the fact that he just got hit by his innocent baby brother, who, from how much I've seen, normally wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Mattie-" Alfred starts to say, but is swiftly cut off by Birdie.

"Shut up, Al." I'm surprised at the cold, harsh tone his voice has taken on. "Alfred F. Jones, you listen to me. You will never, NEVER say something like that about Gilbert EVER again. I honestly don't give a fuck if you like Gilbert or not, because I do. I like Gilbert, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. Also if I EVER hear you say something like that about Gilbert, of if I even hear from someone else that you said it, I will not hesitate for even a moment to get out my hockey stick and beat you with it until your face is so deformed that you won't even recognize yourself."

As Birdie is giving his little speech, I see Alfred's face grow paler and paler, until he's even more pale than me, and I'm albino so that's saying something.

I watch in silence as Al looks at me with eyes full of hatred.

"I don't like you; I don't trust you to not hurt Mattie. I'm watching you, and I WILL kick your ass all the way back to Germany if you hurt him," he says to me in a threatening voice.

I stare right back at him, determined to stand my ground, and reply, "Don't worry. I'll never purposefully hurt Birdie. I care way too damn much about him to ever bring him any harm."

Alfred looks at me for a few moments longer before turning his head and storming away into a room that's down the hall from Birdie's and has the American flag hanging on it. I can only assume that that room belongs to Alfred.

"I'm so sorry about him, Gil. He tends to be overprotective of me when he actually remembers me for long enough," Birdie says as he finishes bandaging my hand. "I understand if you don't wanna be with me anymore."

I see tears pricking his eyes. I reach up my uninjured hand and brush them away. I cup his cheek and make him look at me.

"Birdie, nothing will ever make me leave you, especially not some asshole like him," I tell him with a smile.

"Really?" he asks, looking up at me with sparkling tears in his eyes.

I smile softly and kiss him tenderly on the lips, "of course. I love you, Birdie. Don't you forget it."

"Thanks, Gil," Birdie says, wiping away his tears. We head back to his room, sit on his bed and talk and snuggle for a while.

"Boys! Dinner's ready! Come down and eat," we hear Arthur call up the stairs.

I give birdie another kiss, and we head downstairs to eat dinner with his family.

A/N: thank you so much for being patient with me. I love you all so much and it means the world for me for you guys to put up with me being super slow with my updates so thank you so so much. I hope to get the next chapter up soon though after that I don't know. I'm not quiet sure how to write the next part but I'll figure it out eventually.

Now a word from my lovely Beta Sakura414:

This is Sakura414 reporting from the happiest place on Earth! Fan fiction doesn't let you send hearts, but everyone please send a smile to Wolf-Chan, because it sounds like she needs it. :) On behalf of myself and Wolfen Artist of Hetalia, thank you for reading!

Again thank you for being patient and I'm sorry being sick cause of this medicine is really kicking my butt. I hope to get better soon though, especially with band camp starting up soon. I'm going to be doing color guard (the people with the flags for those of you who don't know). I'm very excited though I won't be able to write as quickly during that. I will still try to get these chapters out to you ASAP. Thanks four you patience you wonderful beautiful peoples.

Till next time mein awesome readers.

Wolf-Chan out.