A/N: Hello! Happy Holidays! Hmmmm. This is my last attempt to salvage my interest in writing this story. I'm getting bored with writing only Spamano, so I'm going to experiment by writing from several different POVs and adding in mini stories along the main one. If I'm bored, I don't force myself to write it, so hopefully you guys like this :) Feel free to PM me or leave a comment in the reviews if there's any couples that you want me to include. I will be accepting requests. If it fits with the plot, I'll do my best to write them in.

Have a great day/ night! And as always, thanks for reading.

Edit December 27th: So...I kinda got a really rude review xD: "This is fucking stupid after the last chapter going straight to different pov and pairing? PEOPLE READ THIS FOR SPAMANO AND WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING TO HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM"

Well friend, if you come back to read this, I'm not leaving you guys on a cliff hanger for that long. I'm uploading the Spamano make up chapter next week, so you can chill your capslock using butt. And no, don't speak for everyone. My dumbass self decided to try something new because last chapter, it didn't seem like you guys cared all that much about their fight. So being the dumb bitch that I am, I was like "Hey, maybe I can make my readers happy by trying something new."

I'm getting hella tired with this fandom. If you wanted to know what happened to them, how come you only chose now to comment? Communication is really important! If you don't tell me that you like something, I'll be dumb and try new things! Also, quick side note, if you want an author to write and continue a story, yelling at them in Capslock is probably not the best approach to take lol.

When Awesome Meets Passive Aggressive:

One Day Earlier...

Matthew's POV:

Gosh, it was early. Eliza had scheduled Alfred and I to open the café at seven in the morning, and on a Sunday of all days. You can only guess that I was doing most of the work, as Alfred was currently drowning in a pile of his own drool, snoring beats remarkably similar to dubstep in the kitchen.

I mean, I love him because he's my twin, but man, can he ever be an idiot sometimes. He knew that we had work in the morning, and yet he still chose to challenge Ivan to a vodka drinking contest last night. I concur, he's a moron. Ivan had steamrolled right into Alfred's questionable self-confidence by absolutely destroying him in the competition. Alfred had blacked out after 15 shots, whereas Ivan drank until morning. I wouldn't be surprised if he was still drinking now.

Even after I had dragged Alfred's limp body to work, Ivan was still tweeting victory pics of him sipping vodka out of a wine glass. Honestly, I don't even bother to understand the rivalry that those two share anymore. The sexual tension between them was more than enough to keep me far, far, far away. Like, I ship it, but you don't see me documenting their 'relationship' progress in a scrapbook. Ahem, Liza, cough, Mei. Seriously though, since when is 'love at first throttle' romantic?

I sighed, shaking my head as I knew that I still had a lot of things to do in order to make up for Alfred's lack of input. I swept the floor, cleaned all the tables, and then, after further inspection, I had to sweep the floor again because of Feliks' fabulous tendency to shed glitter everywhere. Thankfully, it was early enough that no customers had showed up yet.

With that done and over with, I headed towards the kitchen and ninja-kicked the swinging doors open, hoping that the sound would be loud enough to wake Alfred. Unfortunately, Alfred was far too deep in his diva slumber, muttering nonsensical gibberish such as 'Ivan, baby, you're cold. Lemme warm you up!' and 'stupid, attractive commie bastard,' under his breath. Like I said before, the sexual tension between those two was unbelievable.

I moved Alfred off the counter and placed him on the floor, where he then curled up into a ball like the little bitch that he was. Oh, sorry. Sometimes I can get really snarky. You'll just have to get used to it, eh? Anyways, if Alfred wasn't going to cook this morning, I was just going to have to make do with my own mediocre skills in the kitchen. I deadpanned upon realizing that I was only capable of making pancakes. Tabarnac, could this day get any worse?

DING!

God damnit Matthew, this is why you should never open your mouth. I grumbled as I headed out of the kitchen to greet my new customer. I stopped by the front counter, ducking gracelessly when I realized that it was Gilbert. My face burned in embarrassment.

Just great, out of all people, it had to be him?! I suppose you could say that I had a crush on Gilbert. He was just so cocky and confident that I couldn't help but be drawn to him. But who cares anyways, right? Why would a guy like him be interested in me? I mean, he did flirt with me whenever I served him, but I've always assumed that that's just who he was as a person.

I slowly poked my head above the front counter, sneakily spotting Gilbert who had now seated himself at table ten, his usual table. Poor guy, his friends haven't been joining him here lately. Antonio was head over heels for Lovino and followed after him like a lost puppy. And Francis? Well, let's just say that Francis had struck a fancy with my grumpy older cousin, Arthur, who was none too pleased about this. Every day now I received a string of angry texts from Arthur, where he ranted about the 'pestering frog' who wouldn't leave him alone. I blame it all on him, really. He knew how crazy this café was, and yet he still came here on occasion to write and work on his stories. It was pretty much inevitable that he would attract an unwanted visitor.

I slowly popped out from my position at the front counter when Gilbert wasn't looking. I walked, more like stumbled over to him, my hands shaking as I fumbled to grab the pen and notepad out from the front pocket of my waiter's apron. I straightened the apron one last time before I stood before Gilbert's table, politely clearing my throat.

"Good morning, Gilbert! What can I get for you today?"

A pair of tired red eyes looked up to meet mine, only to crinkle slightly at the corners when he smiled. Gilbert chuckled roughly, running a hand through his mussed-up silver hair. He must have been out drinking last night. The wrinkled burgundy hoodie sweater and sweatpants that he wore was already a pretty good indication of that.

"Hey Mattie," he smiled. "Just a coffee for now would be awesome."

I smirked when I spotted movement in the front pocket of Gilbert's hoodie. "No problem! Coming right up. Oh, and Gilbert?"

"Ja?"

"You can take the bird out of your pocket. You're probably suffocating the poor thing."

Gilbert laughed again, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Oops, you caught me!" he said, pulling out a yellow ball of ruffled feathers from the front pocket of his sweater. Gilbird hopped onto the table's counter, cheeping tiredly while his owner teasingly poked his feathery little butt. Gilbert always bragged about how good of a twerker his bird was. This was the first time that I had seen the spectacle for myself. Oddly enough, I couldn't have agreed with him more. That bird put Nicki Minaj to shame.

"Liza usually doesn't let him in here. It's not my fault that Gilbird has good instincts and decided to take a dump on Roderich's shirt!" Gilbert huffed, puffing up his cheeks to match that of a chipmunk's.

I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing. Gosh, what I would give to have seen that disaster play out. "It'll be our little secret," I smirked, turning on my heels. "I'll be right back with your coffee."

Gilbert gave me an incoherent grunt in response. I don't know why, but he always seemed to get nervous around me.

I headed into the kitchen, pouring Gilbert a generous mug of coffee. I then grabbed a small dish for Gilbird to drink water out of, nearly tripping over Alfred's snoring form in the process.

When I got back to Gilbert's table, the albino looked up and blushed slightly. "That was…uh…" Gilbert cleared his throat loudly, looking at the small dish of water that I had brought specifically for Gilbird. "Um…really nice of you!" he barked, and quite aggressively at that. Gilbert pointed an index finger at the bowl, causing me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Was he thanking me, or challenging me to a duel? Who knows.

I spared him an awkward smile, setting down his cup of coffee. "Not a problem. Can I get you anything to eat?"

Please say pancakes. Please say pancakes. Mon dieu, I can't make anything else.

Gilbert hummed in thought. "What would you recommend to me?"

My cheeks stretched into a shit-eating grin. "Why, I would recommend the chocolate chip maple pancakes! They're my favourite thing to eat here!"

Ohohoho! Matthew, you sly, conniving bastard.

"Awesome! I'll have some of those…er…p-please!"

I smirked and headed back into the kitchen with a newfound skip to my step.

I hummed to myself as I mixed together the batter for the pancakes. "We're Outstaffed! Outmanned! Outnumbered! Outplanned! I gotta make an all outstand! Ayo, I'm going to need a right-hand pan!"

I poured the batter into the buttered skillet. "Can I be real a second? For just a millisecond. Set down my pan and bitch about my job for a second! Now I'm the model of a modern gay waiter, the venerated Canadian pushover whose men," I looked down to jab an accusatory index finger at Alfred. "Are all snoring up…"

It didn't take me long before the stack of pancakes were cooked and ready to go. I drizzled some extra chocolate sauce onto the side of the plate, grabbed a bottle of maple syrup – ahem, real Maple Syrup. Not that sugary devil heathen atrocity that goes by the name of Aunt Jemima- and headed out into the café again.

Gilbert winked at me as I set down his stack of pancakes before him. "Wow! That was quick!" he remarked.

I shrugged nonchalantly, all the while feeling like a badass on the inside. "N-no big deal," I stammered, immediately feeling self-conscious of myself. Why? Just why? Why did I have to be such an insufferable dork?

"Enjoy!" I squeaked, turning on my heels, only to falter when Gilbert called after me.

"Oi! Do you want to have some? I can't eat all of these on my own, you know!"

I turned around, blushing profusely. "Oh, no, no. I couldn't possibly do that! Besides, I'm on shift right now."

Gilbert swirled around his fork in the air, pointing to the otherwise empty café. "I'm sure that you can afford a break. Now come on! It isn't everyday that the awesome me decides to share his food with someone!"

I let out a defeated sigh and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Gilbird cheeped and moved to rub his head against my wrist. I smiled slightly, gently scratching the bird's tiny head.

"What did I say?" Gilbert said in between chewing on a large mouthful of pancake. "Gilbird has good taste. He only likes those who are almost as awesome as me!"

Honestly, the amount of times that Gilbert had called himself awesome in the past ten minutes flew right over my head. I had long been desensitized to his routine, and dare I say fake, cockiness. I know for a fact that he was a lot sweeter than what he would like others to believe.

I jolted with a start when Gilbert shoved his plate of pancakes in front of me. "Eat," he grunted, taking a sip from his coffee.

I meekly looked at the half-eaten plate of food.

"Oi! What are you waiting for? Are you worried about using the same fork as me?"

I shook my head. "Well no…It's not that…"

"Then what is it?"

"There's not enough maple syrup on it."

"Ahhhh, I see. Well go ahead then. Pour as much maple syrup as you want! You've already proven to me that you have a good taste in food."

I grabbed the maple syrup bottle, avoiding direct eye contact with Gilbert as I tipped it over the stack of pancakes. I blushed and felt clammy all of a sudden as I poured an endless stream of the heavenly brown liquid onto the plate.

SNAP!

I dropped the maple syrup bottle when I realized that Gilbert was filming me with his phone.

"D-did you just snapchat me?!" I spluttered, stuffing my mouth with an impossibly large bite of the pancake. Just like Alfred, I had a bad habit of overeating whenever I was nervous.

"Ja? Why not? You looked cute," he pouted.

"I hope you're satisfied," I shyly grumbled to myself.

A flare of recognition sparked up in Gilbert's crimson eyes. "You were singing."

"Eh?"

"Back in the kitchen," he said, uncomfortably fidgeting with his hands. "I heard you singing…I didn't want to miss my shot to tell you what an amazing voice you have!"

Gilbert and I exchanged matching smirks.

"How come you didn't meet me inside then? We could have sung together!" I mused.

"Ah, but I knew that you'd be back with my pancakes soon enough!"

I laughed. "You like Hamilton too?"

"Yup! Roddy wouldn't shut up about it, and I thought: why not listen to it for myself? I've been obsessed ever since. Don't even get me started on Francis. He lives and breathes for Lafayette."

"You don't just become obsessed with Hamilton. It consumes you," I snickered.

"You're right on the nail with that! Say, you should come over to my apartment. We can listen to it sometime…"

I cocked my head to the side in question.

"Uh…that is, if I can make time in my VERY busy schedule for you! Wouldn't want to get your hopes up or anything…"

I shook my head in disbelief. "Well, if you can make the time, I'd love to listen to it with you."

"R-really?! How about tonight! Uh…er…one second. Let me just check something real quick." Gilbert pulled out his phone and pretended to check his schedule. I sighed and patted Gilbird's head again.

"You're in luck! I'm free!" Gilbert beamed.

"I'm not," I muttered, trying my best not to sound too disappointed. "Liza's hosting a staff meeting tonight. We have a lot to prepare before tomorrow's Cherokee night."

Gilbert deflated considerably. "Can't you come over afterwards?" he moped.

"Um, wouldn't that be too late for you? These meetings usually run all night."

"I don't mind! I hardly sleep that much to begin with!"

I shrugged. It was hard to say no to this guy. "Oh fine. I'll come over to your apartment afterwards."

You have a physics midterm to study for, you dummy.

Shut up. He's cute. I'll do whatever the heck I want.

Gilbert fist pumped the air, narrowly missing Gilbird who had taken flight to reciprocate his owner's excitement. "Awesome!"

I shuffled sideways, exiting the booth. I could spot customers in the distance heading for the café. "I should probably get back to work now."

"Wait!" Gilbert handed me a napkin that had his number hastily scrawled onto it. "Text me when you're done later!"

I shed Gilbert with one last smirk before I left for the kitchen. "What am I? Your obedient servant?"

Gilbert blushed, causing me to crack up again. This was the first time that I had ever seen him speechless.

I waved back at Gilbert. "Thanks for the food, my dude. Later!"

…

I stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from the refrigerator, and poured it onto Alfred's face. When that didn't work, I resorted to my last and most dangerous option.

I cleared my throat. "COMMUNISM PREVAILS!" I bellowed.

Alfred jolted awake, snorting exactly how a pig would. "Huh? What?! Let me at those elitist bastards!" he growled.

I grabbed a pan and whacked the now disoriented Alfred on the back of the head. "Get to work and start prepping ingredients! It's going to be a busy morning!"

I smirked, flipping the handle of the pan in my hand.

I was now beginning to understand why Liza was so fond of these things.