Getting over jet lag was taking longer than they expected. Maybe they shouldn't have been so naive to think that by the merit of youth, they'd be immune.

Getting out of bed was difficult, especially when the covers were nice and thick and comfy. Nothing would've been able to pry the soft pillow from Matthew's arms as he curled around it and nothing could've moved Alfred from the most comfortable position he'd ever been contorted into in his life.

Eventually, they realised that sleeping in would mean wasting the day, and the fear alone was enough to give them the strength to crawl out of bed. They were on a whole new continent! How cool was that?!

Alfred was pacing around the room with his toothbrush in his mouth while Matthew was unpacking his backpack into the drawer by his side of the bed. Both of them jumped when the doors to their bedroom were pushed open to reveal Clarissa. Alfred froze like a deer in headlights, still in his pyjamas and his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. Figuring it was up to him, Matthew stepped away from the drawers.

"Good morning," he said politely with a smile.

"Oh, morning," she replied. "Alfred, could I get your advice on something?"

"I'm Matthew. I've got longer hair and round glasses," Matthew awkwardly corrected, "but yeah, sure."

Clarissa gestured for him to follow and led him to her room. Alfred followed while aggressively brushing his teeth, as if brushing faster would make the minimum of two minutes pass faster.

Matthew was wondering what he could possibly give advice on. Clarissa's room was just as fancy as theirs, albeit more personalised. It was clean, apart from the many clothes laid out on the bed.

"I can't decide which one to wear to the show tomorrow and I was wondering what you thought?"

"Me?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, well, being the same age I hoped you'd have a similar eye for fashion."

Matthew eyed all the pieces, there were tops and skirts of various lengths, but they all had a similar aesthetic.

"Damn, you can wear rockin' stuff at a royal dress show?" Alfred said through a mouthful of toothpaste, voicing Matthew's thoughts. Clarissa visibly cringed when Alfred dribbled some toothpaste down his shirt.

"I got this Al, just brush," Matthew said.

"Please, don't be vile," Clarissa added.

Alfred groaned but threw his hands up in surrender.

"Anyway," Clarissa announced, "that's the whole point of the royal dress show. You simply cannot turn up in something sensible or you might as well be wearing a sign that says 'spot the plonker.'"

Alfred makes a noise and Matthew sighs, knowing exactly what his brother wants to ask and annoyed that Alfred can't figure out from context that a 'plonker' is a bad thing.

"What's a 'plonker'," Matthew asks, completely resigned to the fact that he sounds like some idiot American, which he isn't.

Clarissa looked as pained as Matthew felt before regaining composure.

"A twit, and as your stepsister I couldn't possibly let you go looking like a twit."

"Thanks," Matthew smiled and with renewed vigour turned back to the options laid out on the bed. If Clarissa wanted his opinion, he'd try his best to help her out.

"How about this and this?" Matthew suggested as he picked up a red shirt with long sleeves but a short middle. Then he grabbed a white knee-length skirt with lots of folds and held them together. "Then you could wear red or white Converse and add whatever accessories you want?"

Matthew may be a bit biased because of the colours, but you couldn't go wrong with red and white.

Alfred made noises of disagreement and pointed to a different skirt, a short tartan and then held up a shirt that only had one shoulder strap.

"This and boots!" He struggled to say with a mouth full of toothpaste and Clarissa grabbed the shirt from him and scowled in disgust.

"Go sort yourself out, you feral boy," she demanded and pointed him out of the room.

Alfred slumped his shoulders but shuffled out of the room.

"Uh, all of these could go with each other," Matthew said as he considered what could match with what. "I guess in the end it's up to you."

"Oh, I've already made my mind up. Your assistance has been most valuable," Clarissa said and gathered up the clothes while Matthew wondered what she had made her mind up with.

Their only warning of Alfred's impending arrival was the obnoxious squeaking of someone's shoes moving very fast on tiles before he banged into the door and skidded to a halt in front of them.

"Ouchy, pretend y'all didn't see that. Anyways, are we ready to dress up or what?"

"I don't need your assistance, thank you," Clarissa said tersely.

"Oh, well, let us know if you want our opinion on anything else!" Alfred said cheerfully and turned on his heel.

Matthew was about to leave too when something occurred to him.

"How did you know that we're going to the fashion show?"

Clarissa hesitated before fixing a smile back in place.

"Arthur told me. He thought it would be a great opportunity for us to spend time together. I'm looking forward to it."

"Yeah, us too," Matthew returned the sentiment and Alfred flicked some finger guns in response.

When it came to getting ready for the fancifully titled 'royal dress show', the twins blamed jet lag when they started getting ready much, much later than they should have.

"Shit," Alfred cussed and he cycled through the limited clothes in his bag. Sure, he had some banging outfits that were sure to impress, but he did pack light so working with what he got was turning out to be quite difficult. Especially when he wanted to look as good as possible. He tried not to panic, if worse came to worse he and Matthew could just mix and match their clothes. The perks of being a twin.

Arthur did offer to let them use his clothes, but that was late last night at dinner and Alfred had been so sure they'd have time in the morning... something something hubris. Matthew was certain that they wouldn't fit into their father's clothes despite Alfred's protests that they should attempt to anyway. Their choice was made for them when they accidentally slept in.

"You should've set an alarm," Matthew snapped as he tipped his clothes out on the bed and picked out what could do with them.

"You could've set an alarm!" Alfred protested and settled on his skinny jeans with embroidered American patches on the pockets, which were really just the same jeans he wore every day but sue him, they were his favourite. "You're just blaming me cus you're mad at yourself for forgetting to do it."

"Yeah, I am, so what? Why's it always on me?" Matthew said tensely as he decided on black jeans that flared from the knee. "Arthur invited us out and no pressure but we're already failing!"

"Don't be like that!" Alfred was quick to reassure him. "We're not late yet and I'm sure we can get ready real quick."

Matthew wasn't too sure about that but quickly grabbed the rest of his outfit. He put on a plain white tee then over the top picked out a deep red jumper with a boxy yet fashionable silhouette. Also, it had a white maple leaf with a gold-stitched border around it. To complete the casual look, he picked a pair of black straight-cut jeans.

"How does my hair look?" He asked as he ran his hands through it.

"Could be fluffier," Alfred said as he set his regular bomber jacket aside and Matthew wondered why he bothered if he was just going to wear what he always wore.

Matthew shook his hands through his hair in an attempt to make it more dynamic while Alfred pulled out a belt with studs in it and set aside his red converse. Then he picked up his blue ripped jeans with 'the best flag in the world', the American flag embroidered on it.

"Maybe I'm just regularly hella fashionable cus I wear this shit every day. But can you blame me for wanting to wear it again, I'm super patriotic!"

"Let me see your outfit," Matthew said as he violently shook his head and ignored how he was feeling lightheaded. "You should wear that shirt instead."

Alfred picked up the white tank top.

"Uh, this is kinda short. I've been wearing it to bed." He chuckled

"Not short by much, right?"

Alfred shrugged and estimated the gap that would be left on his stomach. Matthew rolled his eyes when it wasn't even half the length of his pinky finger.

"Yeah, wear that."

"Aye aye, you'll have to lemme see your fit before we leave. No way are we going out there if our fit isn't immaculate."

"Of course," Matthew smirked with excited confidence.

Getting ready naturally meant using whatever items they could find in the bathroom. Matthew checked out his hair in the mirror, satisfied with how it bounced and formed a halo around his head. He cautiously picked up the perfume bottle sitting on the counter and sprayed it on his neck. Immediately, he recoiled and was overwhelmed with the urge to scrape it off of his neck with his nails.

"Fuck, get that off," Alfred pretended to retch as he smelt it and Matthew wet a cloth to get it off.

"Man, surely one of these has got to smell good," Alfred mumbled as he dug through the cupboards.

"Spray them on your wrist first," Matthew suggested.

"Yeah, no shit," Alfred agreed as he tested them and settled on one. "Here, this is tolerable. I don't know if these fancy pants people are just pretending to enjoy them or if they genuinely enjoy smelling like chemicals."

"Maybe it's acquired taste," Matthew said as he tested the vial Alfred gave to him and shrugged when he found it was, in fact, tolerable.

"Boys!" Came Arthur's call from downstairs and both of them froze.

"Shit, I still need to get into my outfit," Alfred said quickly, "tell him we're almost ready.

Matthew sent Alfred a dirty look but still stalked out of the room.

"I'm sorry," he called from the doorway of their room, "we'll be just one second!"

He could hear Clarissa commenting about their tardiness and Glynnis fretting about being late. He was about to reassure Arthur again when he heard Glynnis suggest they leave them behind, but then Matthew flinched when he heard Alfred shriek.

"Fuck! This isn't good!" Alfred cried as the sound of something flying around the bathroom and hitting the walls reached Matthew. He could feel his face burning up and his hands ached to pull at his hair. Alfred was really embarrassing him.

"I'm so sorry, we're almost ready," he called and ran to see what his idiot brother was doing. When he got to the bathroom he was shocked to see the shower hose flying through the air like an angry snake as it spewed water everywhere and Alfred was struggling to contain it.

"Why the fuck is the water pressure so good here?" He grunted. "Sorry Mattie! I let the impulsive thoughts win!"

"Why did you do that?" Matthew asked, exasperated as he turned it off by the tap instead of trying to catch the hose.

"I don't know! What do you want me to say? The voices? I just needed to wash my hair as quickly as possible!"

"Just do it in the sink?" Matthew really felt like hitting his brother in the head sometimes. "Or use hairspray?"

"Yeah, I'll use hairspray after but I need to look my absolute best!"

It was 20 minutes later when they discovered that Arthur and his family had left without them and Alfred had the audacity to pretend he didn't mess everything up. He kept insisting that everything would turn out alright and Matthew wanted to bury his face into his hands.

"I'll take the fall," Alfred promised as they jumped out of the car and Matthew thanked the driver. "I'm strong. Now let's just get in there and spend some time with Father dearest," Alfred said as they walked towards the front doors of the large stone building-

"Sorry, no admittance. The show's already started." A man said as he latched the doors, locking the twins out.

"Oh come on!" Alfred groaned and stomped back down the steps.

"I blame you," Matthew said as he crossed his arms and scowled.

"Ugh, blame me if I can't get us in there," Alfred said and grabbed Matthew's arm. "Come on."

"We're about to do something stupid again, aren't we?" Matthew asked, completely resigned. "Just because it worked once doesn't mean it'll work again."

"Sure it will," Alfred, ever the optimist, dismissed as he dragged Matthew around the side of the building in search of an alternate way in. He spotted a side door and tried his luck giving it a push and grinned when it gave in.

"Ta-da," he said as he stepped in. "Now we just go find Arthur and pretend we weren't late at all."

"You make it sound like it'll be easy," Matthew said as they speed-walked through the building in search of the show. He kept his eyes sharp as Alfred pulled him along and led them up a grand marble staircase.

"Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Alfred bragged and walked up to one of the staff standing by a thick curtain. "Is this the way to the show?"

"Uh, yes," the man paused in confusion and looked down at his clipboard while Alfred ignored all red flags and beamed.

"Thanks, dude!"

Matthew figured out what was about to happen but was too slow to stop it. Alfred pulled him through the curtain and onto the elevated catwalk, into view of all the guests who didn't miss their arrival.

"Oops," Alfred whispered as everyone stared. Matthew sucked in a sharp breath as his body locked up. Knowing his brother didn't do well in the spotlight, Alfred relaxed and slapped a big grin on his face as he shrugged his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. He moved to stand in a wide confident stance that kept everyone's curious eyes on him while blocking them from Matthew.

The crowd was already rumbling with mutters, some questioning if the male models were supposed to appear so early and others questioning if this was really the royal dress show.

"Don't worry bro, you escape. I got this," Alfred whispered. "I was born to stand out. Social anxiety fears me!"

Matthew kept his eyes staring dead ahead, too terrified to watch as his idiot brother made a fool of himself while sauntering down the catwalk. All Matthew could do was hope that people forgot he was there. Of course, that was harder to do when shocked emerald eyes locked right on him Matthew tried to smile in apology, but he was sure it was more of a grimace. His heart was beating louder than the crowd, who were still staring intently at them like they could just inherently smell that they were out of place. As much as Matthew hated it, he knew that escaping would only draw more attention. The thought of everyone just knowing how nervous he was terrified him. So as mortified as he felt, he had to pretend to belong until they got off the stage. Easier said than done when it came to him. While it didn't come naturally to him, Alfred was more than eager to live in the spotlight.

Alfred was having the time of his life. The models gave him annoyed looks as he strutted on the walkway and bumped into them. He shrugged it off though, the crowd was completely obsessed with him. It didn't escape his notice when Clarissa's friends gave him impressed looks. What good of a step-brother would he be if he didn't go annoy her? He made sure to stop in front of them and pull various silly poses as he eavesdropped.

"Ugh, that's them," Clarissa groaned.

"I don't see what you're complaining about, they seem absolutely... entertaining," her friend said sarcastically.

Satisfied that he'd shown off enough in front of Clarissa and friends, Alfred let his eyes roam the crowd in search of his father. He couldn't hold back to toothy, hollywood grin when he spotted him. Alfred gave a little wave to Arthur and tried not to let his smile slip when Arthur averted his gaze and covered his face with his hand.

Alfred tried to not let it get to him, the cheers of the crowd were enough to keep him going. Most of the things being said all ebbed and flowed together so he couldn't distinguish exactly what was being said beyond them actually thinking they were models. That amused Alfred to no tomorrow. But what especially pleased him was they were somehow inherently able to differentiate him as American. Yeah, no way he could be anything like a stuffy Brit! Nothing made him prouder than being an American.

He withheld a chuckle when he heard Matthew correct them with 'Canadian' under his breath behind him.

"You're doing great dude," Alfred said over his shoulder. "This is what gap years are all about! Living our best life! Look how much they love us!"

"Look how they're all dressed sensibly and we're not?" Matthew said with spite.

"Yeah, methinks we've been played. But at least they think we're a part of the show and not 'plonkers'," Alfred giggled. "That's such a silly word."

"Not as silly as we look," Matthew muttered.

"Can't let the haters know they got to us," Alfred advised as he continued to live his best life rocking it on the catwalk. "As long as we don't hear any dumb shit that we always get asked because we're twins. I can't stand that."

Neither of them appreciated the really weird questions they get asked when someone with no filter decides it's their prerogative to ask them whatever they'd like. Especially if they were being fetishised somehow. Even if they were 18, it still wasn't okay because they were still teenagers.

"Do you think if one gets hurt the other one can feel it?" One of the boys sitting along the edge whispered to his friend, who snickered.

Matthew sighed. At least that wasn't the weirdest thing directed at them.

"Well, that's our cue," Alfred uttered and stepped up to the edge to take a bow before making a break for it.

"Thank you, London!" He declared before losing balance and tumbling off of the catwalk and into the crowd.

"What a disgrace!" Some old woman gasped.

"Must be American," another muttered scornfully.

Matthew would've facepalmed if it wasn't for the stress and performative pressure of still being in view. All his customer service training was for this moment.