"I'm just asking you to hear me."
My Blue Heaven; Taking Back Sunday

-Hetalia-

In all honesty, Arthur was very tempted to stay home. He was still irritated with Alfred's immaturity. He was fairly certain Alfred would still be upset with him as well, which meant another band meeting full of arguments and petty insults. Or worse, Alfred would pout.

Arthur had more important things to do. He had to pack, for one. It was never too late to look for scholarships, either. He may not get any more for this semester, but four years of university were expensive and some of the awards he'd earned were only for freshman year.

He also had to make sure Peter didn't trash his side of the bedroom. His younger brother, the only one of the bunch to share both mother and father with Arthur, was a tornado on legs. The last thing Arthur needed was for his things to be rearranged and thrown onto the floor. With work at night and practices twice a week, he didn't have much time to order his things. He certainly couldn't spare time to reorganize them.

But despite Alfred's childish behavior, Arthur felt guilty when he considered skipping out on practice. He sat on the floor of his shared bedroom, pulling his favorite books from a shelf and packing them, acutely aware of the fact that there were only two more practices before he left. He'd known Alfred and Matthew for most of their lives. He'd been in Gilbert's class from pre-school until ninth grade, when Gilbert had to take a year off. The three of them had been there for him in their own ways all throughout his childhood. At the very least, he owed them the courtesy of spending time together while it was still so easy.

Arthur paused, a thick collection of Lord Byron's finest poems in his hand.

Friendship shouldn't have felt like an obligation. He was just under too much stress. Preparing for uni, training his replacement at work, the last lingering traces of hurt from his breakup with Francis, Scott and Liam's bullshit. In theory, being with his friends ought to have been a way to relax. But with band practices, and the bickering between him and Alfred, he felt exhausted. And having Peter constantly pester him with questions added severe annoyance on top of it all.

"Will you have a bunk bed like me?" the boy asked. It had to be his hundredth question that morning.

"You don't have a bunk bed, Peter. There's no bottom bunk." Arthur could hear his brother shift in the massive bean bag chair.

"Will you put down a tape line like ours?"

"Hopefully my new roommate won't make such a mess, and it won't be necessary."

Peter pushed some of his toys across the floor, emphasizing Arthur's point. "Who's your new roommate?"

Pushing aside the laundry list of stresses he was making in his mind, Arthur debated whether or not he wanted to bring his Harry Potter books. He frowned at his box and the lack of space in it.

"Artie," Peter whined.

"What?" Arthur looked over his shoulder at the eight year old. Peter was laying upside down on the beanbag. The only visible carpet on his side of the room was under his head.

"You didn't answer me," Peter said.

Arthur turned back to his books. "His name is Tino." Perhaps he would only bring his favorite book from the series. Would that be the third, or the sixth?

"Is Tino Italian?" Peter asked.

Arthur gave in and crammed both books into his box. "I don't know, Peter. Why does it matter?"

"Because I have an Italian friend, his name is Romeo, like that guy in those books you're always reading."

Arthur frowned. He'd forgotten all about his collection of Shakespeare's greatest plays. His last box was now completely full, though, the two magical novels having taken up every possible centimeter of remaining space. Arthur sighed. He'd have to get another box.

One more reason to go out today.

"Peter, Romeo Vargas is nearly twice your age. I'd hardly consider it a friendship. And Tino is just my roommate. I haven't even met the man yet." Arthur stood and turned to face his little brother. Even upside down, the pout on Peter's face was obvious. He watched as Peter's lip trembled. Arthur lifted a hand to his temple. He could already feel the headache.

"Romeo is too my friend," Peter whined. "We play together all the time!"

"He doesn't even go to the same school as you."

"Alfred doesn't go to uni with you!"

Arthur lost whatever comeback he'd had. Peter scrambled into an upright position and crossed his arms, pouting and glaring at his big brother. The little tears dribbling down his face made Arthur feel guilty. It seemed he was upsetting just about everyone lately. Arthur's phone buzzed from his nightstand, thanks to an alarm he'd set to remind him of their practices. Arthur took another look at Peter's angry face and decided he would rather put up with whatever Alfred had in store for him today. At the very least, Matthew could mediate between them if need be.

Arthur pocketed his phone and took his keys, leaving the bedroom without a word. He went into the living room to get his instrument, only to bump into his father.

"Excuse me," Arthur said. His father put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your mother and I are going out to the company picnic. We should be back by eight tonight, so watch your brother."

Arthur frowned. "I have plans today."

"Scott will take over for you when you have to go into work," his mother said as she stepped out into the hall.

"Why can't he just watch Peter all day?"

"Arthur, don't argue. Just do as you're told."

Arthur opened his mouth, but the look his mother gave him made him reconsider. Gritting his teeth, he nodded. "Fine. I suppose he can come with me."

"Where are you going?" his father asked.

"Alfred's."

"We're going to Alfred's today?"

Arthur hadn't heard Peter come out of the bedroom, and apparently neither did his parents as they all turned to look at the boy. Peter was already over his hurt feelings about Romeo being too old for him. His eyes were wide with the prospect of playing with the American, and his smile was so big his recently lost baby tooth was evident.

Arthur's mother stepped forward. "Yes, you and your big brother Artie are going to play together today," she cooed. Arthur tried not to make a face at that and stepped past his father to get his things.

On the bright side, Scott was currently no where to be seen.

In all honesty, Arthur couldn't wait to get out of here.

-H-

He'd been right when he said he'd be late, and yet Alfred's truck was the only vehicle parked in front of the house when Arthur pulled up to the garage. Peter was bouncing in his seat, going on about how much fun he'd have playing with Alfred. Arthur tuned him out, getting his bass out of the back and wondering why Gilbert wasn't here yet.

The garage door was closed, so Arthur led his little brother up the walkway to the front porch. Peter rang the doorbell three times in his excitement. They waited nearly five minutes.

Matthew looked horrible when he opened the door. Arthur was taken a little aback, and Peter interrupted the Canadian's "Oh, hello," to ask if he was sick.

Matthew turned a little pink and looked away. "Uh, sort of..."

Arthur was going to ask, but a yapping sound distracted him. "Was that a dog?"

"I want to see the doggy!" Peter forced his way past Matthew and ran off in search of the sound. Arthur met Matthew's eyes.

"Yeah, it is." Matthew stepped to the side so Arthur could carry in his bass and amp. The Canadian looked through the living room towards the stairs, frowning a bit.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you have a dog?"

"Since this morning," Matthew said. He didn't turn away from the stairs. "You should probably set that on the kitchen table. At least until Tony's calmed down."

Guessing that Tony was the dog, Arthur nodded and headed towards the kitchen. "Wouldn't want the little beast to trip."

He didn't catch what Matthew said as he set down his bass. There was a thundering sound from the other side of the house. It sounded like four footsteps, as if Alfred and Peter were racing each other down the stairs. Arthur huffed and went to scold them – the last thing he needed was Peter to fall down the stairs while under his watch.

He'd just passed the couch when a big grey thing whipped around the corner and barreled straight into his chest. Arthur yelped and threw his arms out to catch himself, only managing to knock over a little table and bang both his funny bones on the hardwood floor when he landed. He heard laughter over the yapping of the monster on his chest. He tried to sit up, but the dog growled like a demonic chihuahua.

Alfred appeared just over the dog, laughing. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"C'mon Tony, let him up," Alfred said. The dog continued yapping and digging its paws into Arthur's ribcage. Alfred rolled his eyes, like the dog's behavior was all just a joke to him. Arthur could hear Peter laughing on the other side of the couch.

"Tony," Alfred insisted. Tony ignored him.

"Al, he's not going to listen to you," Matthew said. Arthur watched his feet rush past them, towards the kitchen. Alfred tugged at the dog's collar. Nothing happened.

The dog's breath stank, and frankly, Arthur didn't like having all the air squished out of his lungs by this noisy thing. His younger brother's laughter wasn't making him feel any better, and Alfred was treating it all like a joke.

Matthew returned, and something wet hit Arthur in the face.

"Back. Back," Matthew spat. Arthur hadn't heard him speak so forcefully in all the years he'd known him. More of what he hoped was water hit him in the face as Matthew threw it at the dog, who whined and eventually did back off of Arthur's chest. Alfred crouched down to pet the dog. Matthew crouched to give Arthur a hand.

"I want to pet him!" Peter demanded.

"No," Arthur said.

"Sure, little dude," Alfred said at the same time.

Arthur frowned at his boyfriend while Peter clambered across the couch and stuck out his hand. Matthew rushed past.

Peter shrieked when Tony lunged at him. Arthur's heart skipped a beat. The dog's jaws snapped shut around thin air, Matthew having grabbed his collar just in time. Alfred gave the dog a confused look as Peter started to cry.

Arthur rushed to console his brother as Alfred asked the dog "What's the matter, boy?"

"Al, I told you he's not all that friendly," Matthew said. Tony was sitting all too calmly for having nearly eaten an eight year old's hand. Arthur sat down next to Peter and pulled him into a hug and glared at the beast, and then its owner. Peter tucked his head into Arthur's chest and cried softly.

"Put that monster away," Arthur spat.

"Aw, but he just got out of the shelter," Alfred said.

"He nearly caused an emergency room visit."

"Al, he's not friendly," Matthew said. Alfred sighed but took hold of the collar.

"Fine. C'mon Tony."

They left the room as Peter eased into sniffles rather than sobs. Arthur rubbed his back, mumbling consoling words and trying to calm himself down. Now that the dog was gone, he realized just how terrifying that had been for both of them. Matthew made a sound somewhere between relieved and aggravated, sitting down on the other side of the couch. Arthur watched him rub his temples.

"Headache?" He heard his own breathlessness.

Matthew winced. "Sort of..." The blond glanced at Peter, who was pulling away from Arthur's embrace. Arthur watched Peter to be sure he was okay before turning to Matthew for a moment. The younger seemed different today, somehow. A little less timid, perhaps. His patience was wearing a bit thin, as well.

"Can I watch cartoons?" Peter didn't wait for an answer as he hopped off the couch to grab the remote on the coffee table. In a matter of seconds the boy had plopped down on the floor in front of the television. Arthur raised an eyebrow, amazed at how quickly he'd gotten over the trauma.

Eventually he turned back to Matthew. "Are you alright?"

Matthew looked at him without speaking. Peter laughed at Spongebob's antics while Arthur looked over the teen he'd known for twelve years. Matthew looked at Peter, and then back to Arthur.

"I drank last night."

He spoke quietly, but Arthur couldn't tell if that was to prevent Peter from hearing, or because of the shame Matthew clearly felt. Arthur could see it in his eyes. Scenes began playing out through Arthur's head – angry drunken fights, dances on table tops, a certain Frenchman – equally inebriated – panting over him…

"What did you do?" He sounded like a mother hen.

Matthew flinched and stared at his hand in his lap, and Arthur prepared for the worst. "Nothing too bad. I got pretty drunk, though. And..."

Arthur chewed the side of his tongue when he saw Matthew's blush. "And?"

Matthew glanced sideways at him. "I think Gil kissed me." His blush spread to his ears.

"You kissed Gil?!"

They jumped. Neither had heard Alfred come back in the room. The American was staring at Matthew as if he'd said he could set things on fire with his mind.

"No! I mean, I don't know. I think he kissed me? Maybe. But we were drunk, so-"

"You kissed a boy?" All eyes turned to Peter. For a long moment, no one knew what to say. Arthur's eyes flicked from his brother to Matthew, and then to Alfred.

"Um," Matthew tried, but he looked just as lost as he sounded. Arthur swallowed.

"Psh, yeah dude. Everyone here's kissed a boy," Alfred said.

Peter didn't miss a beat. "I haven't!"

"Well you haven't kissed anyone." Alfred shrugged.

"Have too!"

"Mum doesn't count, Peter," Arthur said.

"I still can't believe you kissed Gil." Alfred turned back to Matthew.

"I have too kissed someone!" Peter repeated.

"I said I think," Matthew said. Alfred was frowning at him.

"Hey! Listen to me!"

"Not now, Peter," Arthur said.

"I don't understand why you're so worked up about that, of all things," Matthew said. "You're making a bigger deal of it than when you found out I got drunk."

"I have too! I've kissed my friend Anaise!" Arthur blinked and looked at Peter. He hadn't known that. Hell, Peter and Anaise were only eight.

Alfred and Matthew continued their argument, but now that he'd been pulled out, Arthur felt a bit awkward listening in.

"Because it's Gil," Alfred said.

"What's wrong with Gil?" Matthew asked. Arthur saw it again, the signs that Matthew's patience was running out. The hangover must have been getting to him.

"Nothing's wrong with him. He's a great guy, but he's kinda..."

"Kinda what?"

"A slut?"

Peter's eyes went wide.

"Alfred, there are children here!" Arthur snapped. Alfred was startled, then looked a bit sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck guiltily.

"How could you say that about your best friend, Al?" Matthew asked.

"You said a bad word!" Arthur sighed at Peter's comment. The others ignored him.

"It's not a bad thing, necessarily," Alfred said, his words turning into a mumble as he went on. "I mean, you could ask him and he'd probably say he was a- was one. It's just not something you want in a boyfriend."

The doorbell rang.

"I didn't say he was my boyfriend!"

"Someone's at the door," Peter said. The doorbell rang again for emphasis.

"Why don't you go answer, then," Arthur said. Peter scrambled to his feet.

Alfred looked a bit exasperated, while Matthew was very nearly glaring at his step-brother. It was unsettling to see them fighting, especially when Matthew's hangover was putting him in such a foul mood.

"I know, but you like him, don't you?" It was an accusation, and it made Matthew flush again. Arthur looked him over, the realization that yes, Matthew had a crush on Gilbert, making him see the Canadian in a new light. In all honesty, Gilbert was the last person Arthur expected Matthew to fall for.

"Like who?" Gilbert grunted.

"Gil's here!" Peter announced.

"N-no one," Matthew said without turning around to face the albino. Gilbert gave the back of Matthew's head a confused look, but he let it go.

"Got any Gatorade?"

"In the fridge, dude."

Alfred gave Matthew a look that said he wasn't done with this conversation. Matthew's bad mood seemed to crumble a little as he looked away, giving in.

"Peter," Arthur said, waving his brother over.

"Yeah Artie?"

Arthur frowned at the nickname. "Don't say anything about what you heard, okay?"

"You mean about Mattie kissing a boy?"

"It's a super secret secret," Alfred jumped in. Peter's eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, dude, it's super important we don't tell anyone. We can't even talk about it ever again."

"Wow!"

Arthur sighed. He was thankful for Alfred's childishness, at least. He looked up as Gilbert returned with two Gatorades and a scowl. So, he was hungover as well. Just how much did the two of them drink last night?

Matthew flinched when one of the bottles was dropped into his lap. He blinked and looked up at Gilbert, but the albino was chugging his drink and glaring at the ceiling.

"It'll help," Arthur explained in his stead. Matthew looked at him and then nodded.

"So dudes, ready for practice?"

Gilbert pulled away from his bottle, half of the dark blue liquid already gone. He grunted.

"I suppose that's a yes," Arthur said. He stood up from the couch. "I'll go set up." He went to the kitchen to get his bass and his amp. Peter followed him.

-H-

"So what kind of band is it?"

"If you're going to sit there, you have to be quiet," Arthur said. Peter whined.

"I only want to know."

"We're a rock band," Alfred said. Arthur sighed.

"If you answer one question, he's only going to come back with another."

"What's your band name?"

Arthur let them go back and forth. He couldn't possibly stop them, anyway. He checked his bass again before turning to Gilbert.

"Have you come up with any new songs, by chance?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Work kicked my ass and I was too drunk to do anything last night."

"Gil," Matthew hissed, though he didn't quite look at Gilbert.

"What?"

"There's a little kid here. You can't say things like that."

Gilbert looked across the garage to where Peter was carrying on with Alfred. "Aw, come on Birdie, he didn't hear me."

"Still, I'd prefer if you didn't curse around my kid brother," Arthur said. Gilbert shrugged and grunted.

"We still only have three songs," he said. Arthur nodded.

"Four if you count my awesome song for Artie!" Alfred threw in. "C'mon dudes, ready to practice?"

"We've practiced our three songs enough by this point," Arthur said, turning to face his boyfriend. "We should take this time to write something new. Unless you want to be a one hit wonder and leave it at that."

"Dude, we've got four songs, how could we be a one hit wonder?"

"Bestialement is the only one anyone seems to remember," Arthur said. He heard Matthew squeak at that. Gilbert gave a short laugh, hardly his typical cackle.

"Well I wrote some stuff this morning," Alfred said. "I can go get it if you want."

"It's better than nothing."

"Alright, b-r-b."

"I wanna come!"

Peter scrambled after Alfred. Arthur turned back to the other two. He frowned.

"Got something to say, Art?" Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Arthur narrowed his eyes. Something about that tone told him this wasn't just hungover-Gilbert talking. Something more was weighing on his friend.

"I heard what happened last night," he said. Matthew winced but stayed quiet.

"So? You and I drink all the time."

"I know. But we don't drink with innocent sixteen year old virgins." Matthew shuffled his feet, frowning. "No offense," Arthur added. Matthew shook his head.

"We've been drinking since before sixteen."

"We weren't innocent virgins. No offense. Again."

"Are you seriously lecturing me right now?"

Arthur straightened up at the fire he recognized in Gilbert's eyes. The albino was a bit pissed off but trying to cover it up, which meant whatever had pissed him off happened well before he got to the Jones's home.

"Got it!" Alfred interrupted. He was good at that, it seemed.

"Let's see, then," Arthur sighed, turning away from Gilbert. It was probably for the best they were interrupted. Arthur didn't fancy getting into a fist fight with the Prussian. Especially not when he was supposed to be watching Peter.

Alfred skipped forward and presented a little notebook.

"Al, did you take that from the shelter?" Matthew asked.

"Well I wanted the stuff I wrote in it."

"You could have ripped the pages out."

Arthur took the notebook and flipped it open. It took him a moment to make out Alfred's dreadful handwriting, but once he did he frowned.

"This doesn't look like a song at all," he said. It looked more like a diary entry, or perhaps a letter.

"What do you mean, dude?"

Arthur found his name in a sentence and realized this was a note addressed to him.

"It's not a song," Arthur said. It looked like the argument he'd had with Alfred the night before. Only his side was missing. These were just Alfred's words, and it elaborated further than Arthur had allowed.

"Dude, I totally wrote a so- " Alfred caught sight of his own written words. "Oh shit."

"You said a bad word!"

"Ah, sh- crap, sorry Peter." Alfred glanced over his shoulder only to look back to Arthur again. The Brit read on. It was completely childish, selfish, and irrational. As was to be expected, based on the argument they had in the car. But still, it irritated him.

"Crap is a bad word too!"

"Uh, Artie?"

Arthur twitched at the nickname and threw Alfred a glare.

"Uh, yeah, you weren't meant to see that, so uh-"

"Well if this is how you really feel, why shouldn't I know about it? I am your boyfriend, after all."

"Yeah, but Mattie said to write a angry letter so I could clean my thoughts or somethin'."

"It's an angry letter," Arthur corrected.

"I said organize, Al."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever dudes! The point is that's just a bunch of stuff from my head, it's not all true."

"So you're saying you're not worried that I 'baby' you so much you'll 'never be able to get laid'?" Arthur read. Alfred flinched.

"Small child," Matthew reminded them. Arthur ignored him.

"Or that I'm 'so controlling' that I'll start telling you when you 'can and can't go to the bathroom'?"

"Well you are kinda bossy and controlling, you know," Alfred snapped.

"Excuse me for caring and looking out for you!"

"Oh fuck this shit," Gilbert growled. He snatched up his Gatorade and left the garage.

"Gil, little kid here!" Matthew called.

"What are they fighting over?" Peter asked.

"Looking out for me? I'm almost an adult, Iggy!"

"You just turned seventeen."

"Come on, Peter, let's go watch cartoons," Matthew sighed. He led Peter out of the garage.

"You can't tell me what to do, Arthur. You made some shitty decisions when you were my age. When you were younger, too!"

"That's exactly why you should listen to me! I'm trying to keep you from making the same mistakes that I did."

"Dude, there's no way I'm gonna go through a punk phase and get a tattoo of a guitar on my back," Alfred rolled his eyes.

"It's on my side, and that's not what I meant. If it weren't for me last night, you would have been grinding on strangers in the ballroom and drinking yourself silly in the kitchen. Look what happened to Matthew!"

"Then yell at Mattie!" Alfred flailed his arms. He was actually glaring at Arthur. Not pouting or frowning or rolling his eyes, but a full glare. "Mattie's the one who was all sweaty after Gil took him in the ballroom. Mattie's the one who came home after curfew. Mattie's the one who got drunk and kissed Gil of all people."

"This isn't about Matthew."

"No, it's not."

Arthur blinked at Alfred's suddenly calm voice. Calm, but serious.

"It's about you wanting to control everything I do."

Arthur let out an annoyed breath. "I don't want to control you, Alfred."

"You do though! And you won't listen to me!"

"Oh come now, I've sat through this whole argument with you, haven't I?"

"Yeah, but have you heard anything I've said?"

"You're mad at me for protecting you, and for not scolding Matthew."

Alfred threw his hands up. "This isn't about Mattie!"

"Then what is it about, Alfred? Just come out with it already and stop this silly bickering."

"I already told you what it's about," Alfred shouted. "But fine. If you won't listen, then I just won't talk to you anymore."

"Are you- What are you saying, Alfred?"

Alfred shook his head and crossed his arms.

"Alfred."

Alfred stuck his nose up in the air. Arthur clenched his jaw.

"Fine." He disconnected his bass from the amp. "Fine. I'll give you time to sort out your ridiculous thoughts. Call me when you're feeling more rational."

He gathered up his amp and walked past Alfred, who didn't spare him a glance. Matthew stood up when he saw him come into the living room.

"Arthur?"

"Come on, Peter. We're going home now."

"I don't wanna go," Peter whined.

"Is everything alright?" Matthew asked. Arthur glanced around, wondering for a moment where Gilbert had gone.

"Your step-brother has resorted to the silent treatment," he said. "Unless he comes to his senses, I suppose I won't see you until next practice."

"Al? Being silent?"

"Yes, it's rather shocking isn't it. We're going, Peter. I have to go to work soon."

"I thought you had Saturday off?" Matthew asked while Peter whined.

"I traded to get last night off," Arthur said. Peter dragged himself away from the television, offering Matthew a half-hearted "Bye," as he passed.

"I'll talk to Al for you," Matthew said as he opened the door for them.

"Thank you. And good luck with Gilbert," Arthur said quietly.

Matthew flushed and gave a tiny nod.

A/N: As always, thank you all so much for reading.

BC is still in progress, of course. I hope I don't worry anyone too much. Senior year was honestly the busiest year of high school, and literally the day after I graduated I went to Europe for a month, so there's just been no time to write.

I'm sorry to all the USUK hearts I'm breaking out there. ilybakura, please don't cry. Or disown me. I'm so sorry.

Here we have Arthur's point of view. He's the hardest of the four for me to write, honestly. But now (with help from Hornet394; thank you as always), we see a little more of what's making him so fussy. Mind you he's a fussy person, but he's been taking out his stress on everyone around him, so it's been worse. This is analogous to England's situation during America's colonization. With wars going on here and there, trade issues, etc., there was a lot to pay for and a lot of stress on the mother country. England tried to force the colonies into helping out, but force isn't fair, so situations got worse.
Following the petitions (last chapter), the American colonists began protesting, and then some violence broke out. The argument between Arthur and Alfred here is an allegory for those protests. Soon after, the Sons of Liberty turned up, and began boycotting British goods (hence Alfred refusing to talk to Arthur at the end of this chapter).

Romeo Vargas, by the way, is Seborga. I'm not sure what his fanon name is, but that was the one I found. Anaise is Wy; another fanon name I found.

Taking Back Sunday is one of my favourite bands. On a side note, I just bought 5 meters (yes, seriously) of fabric for a Teutonic Knights!Prussia cosplay.

To the guest reviewer: StillTooLazy: Thank you for the review. I'm so glad to hear how much you like this story, and I hope you liked this chapter. Sadly no PruCan just yet. But Mattie's blushing, so there's that.

Translations for this chapter:
None, as far as I remember.

Thank you so much for reading, and for bearing with the long waits. I can't promise it'll get better; just like Arthur, I'm starting college this year.

~VV