Written in a moment of intense PruCan fervor. I just had had had to write some fluff, after the terrible pile of angst that I've been submitting lately. So; enjoy. My first PrussiaxCanada story EVAR.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
EDIT 10/10/10: Fixed some grammer stuff that was bugging me. AND GUESS WHAT IT'S DAVID TENNANT DAY! GO CELEBRATE.
Maple Syrup and Gloomy
Matthew didn't even bother answering the snowy bear's cat call of 'Who?' anymore. He had simply given up and accepted that Kumajiro would never-not-ever remember his name.
In fact, he had almost given up and accepted that nobody would ever remember his name. Not even his irritating brother, Alfred.
Matthew rubbed the back of his head ruefully, wincing at the spot where Cuba had thrown a brick at him the other day, mistaking him for his brother. Cuba had, of course, apologized and they had gone out for ice cream after, and the bruise didn't hurt too much, but much worse was the disappointment that his only friend couldn't tell him apart from America.
Matthew peered into the mirror. "I don't look exactly like Alfred," he told himself, encouragingly. "My hair's a different shade. Kinda. And my eyes are more purple than his. And Alfred's hair definitely does not curl like that." Matthew blew a puff of air up into his bangs, and said curl bobbed agreeably. Matthew smiled half-heartedly at his reflection. "It'll be okay," he consoled himself. "I-I mean, Cuba-san always apologizes, and we do have fun sometimes…" he sighed and shook his head. "Hey, Kumajiro…time to go to the summit meeting…"
Matthew felt annoyance bubbling up inside him. "Fine then," he said, crossly, "You can just stay at home then." He marched out the door (A sort of limping march that would have made Ludwig cry if he had seen it) and slammed it (raising a little dust but making not much sound) and got into his car, feeling defiant (read: mild).
"WILL ALL OF YOU SHUT UP! FRANCE! STOP THAT! No, you may NOT have any pasta, Feliciano. Wait until lunch. RUSSIA! STOP MOLESTING LITHUANIA!"
Gilbert lounged in his chair, and watched West try to get the meeting under control while being pestered by Italy and Russia's creepy purple aura began infecting the entire room. That eyebrow twat; Arthur; was cackling about a chair that was going to rule the world, and America was guzzling down hamburgers and soda and talking so fast no one knew a word he said.
"Don't worry, little birdy," he said to the yellow fluff ball on his head, "We're too awesome to get involved in this mayhem. I don't care that no one's talking to me! Noooo…none of them are worthy of my awesomeness anyway." He downed another bottle of beer, and picked at the hem of his jacket.
The door opened. No one noticed. A small, unobtrusive figure entered the summit room. He glanced around, took in the chaos around, dodged the radius of Ivan's violet glow and sat meekly down into an open chair.
"AH HA! NOW YOU WILL SEE THE POWER OF THE BUSBY'S CHAIR!" England shrieked.
"Hey…Arthur…that's my brother there, I think, you know…"
"…Watch and learn Alfred. Watch and learn."
…A few minutes passed.
"It's not working."
Arthur examined the chair anxiously. Matthew was petrified. What was this strange chair supposed to do?
"Why's it not working! It's not blowing up like when Russia sits in it, but it's not killing him, either!"
"Maple!" squeaked Matthew, jumping out of the chair, which just sat there.
Arthur frowned. "It's just not registering him, I suppose. Oi; France! Come here a minute…"
Matthew left quickly, to avoid his former guardian. Chairs don't even notice me anymore. It'd probably be better if I just wasn't here at all…then brother could have more space and-
"Hey! You there!"
Matthew shook his head. All this racket was giving him a headache.
The call again, impatient now. "YOU! Answer when the awesome me speaks to you!"
Matthew blinked. The command couldn't possibly be addressed to him, could it?
"HEY! THE GUY WITH THE GOGGLES! I'M TALKING TO YOU, YOU KNOW!"
Mathew raised a hand to his forehead. Sure enough, he was still wearing his favourite driving goggles on his head. He turned slowly to face to caller. "Um…me?"
"Yes you! Get over here!" a skinny albino man was sitting at the table. Empty beer bottles kept him company, and he appeared to have a small yellow bird sitting on his head. Strange. Matthew approached him. The man drained another bottle and plunked it down on the table. He pointed to an empty chair besides him.
"Y-you noticed me." Matthew said, matter-of-factly.
The albino rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah. Why not? You're here, just like everyone else."
"Not really," murmured the blonde, eyes downcast.
"Wha' was that?"
"Not really," louder this time. "I seem to be rather invisible to most people." Shrug. "It doesn't really make a difference whether I exist or not." There was a touch of bitterness in the last words, a touch that did not escape Prussia.
"Oh, come on. That's not a very awesome perspective on life, now is it?"
Matthew felt…well…somewhat pleased. This man- who he knew to be Prussia- had noticed him! He had picked him out and-
A nasty cold feeling spread up Matthew's back. Maybe -no, more like definitely- Prussia thought that Canada was America! He had mistaken him for his brother and was going to start lecturing him on something stupid Alfred had done long ago and-
Fuck yeah! Gilbert thought, happily. He totally knows who the awesome me is, yeah!
"Y-you're not mistaking me for my brother, eh? I'm not Alfred, you kn-"
Gilbert sat up straight, indignant. "Of course not! The mere fact that you thought I could mistake you for that hamburger-eating, low-down little superpower"-he said the last word with a mocking, sarcastic tone-"is entirely insulting! You-" Gilbert jabbed the startled Matthew in the chest with his index finger-"You are Canada. Mattie Williams. Second largest country in da world. Whatever you want to call it."
Matthew blinked. "Erm…Mattie?"
Gilbert waved a nonchalant hand. "Sure. It's cute and awesome. Like little birdy here." He gave the fluff on his head an affectionate poke.
"So. What's with all the depressive invisible talk, hmmm? If ya wanna be noticed, just gotta yell real loud and make yourself known. Like this." Gilbert jumped up on his chair, waved his hands wildly, and hollered, "THE AWESOME ME WILL NOW TAKE THE FLOOR, BITCHES!"
Ludwig, at the head of the table, facepalmed, and Feliciano patted him consolingly on the back.
Alfred immediately began yelling that Gilbert had nothing on his awesomeness, and Arthur tried to coax Latvia into Busby's Chair. The whole room hollered for Gilbert to shut up and get down NOW, and the albino, grinning, sat down.
"So- there ya go!" he said, cheerily, tipping back in his chair. He rocked back and forth for a moment, then went too far, and nearly flipped over backwards. Matthew caught the back of the chair and pushed it upright again.
"Ah ha…you have saved me. Thank you, Mattie…" Gilbert reached for another beer. Matthew slapped his hand away.
"You're drunk enough as it is," he reprimanded, feeling suddenly happier than he had in a while. Gilbert pouted at him. "I said to make yourself heard, not to be my mother," he complained.
Matthew just grinned his small, hesitating grin. Gilbert cracked a wide, wicked smile. "You look less gloomy already," he said, satisfied. "All thanks to you basking in my glow of awesomness, of course. It's energizing." He nodded sagely, as though the nonsense he was spouting was fact or something.
Did I look gloomy before?
Matthew shook his head. "I wasn't gloomy…" he protested, meekly. "I was just…"
"Gloomy. You should have seen your face!" Gilbert accused. He grinned, suddenly, as if an idea had taken hold of him. "Heeeey…I know how to kill two birds with one stone! No offense, little guy," he added, patting the yellow fluff perched on his silver hair.
Gilbert hooked a finger under Mathew's chin and tugged him closer. "Now we'll make a scene," he whispered, wickedly, and leaned forward and planted a firm kiss on the Canadian's lips.
Matthew's first instinct was to pull sharply away and go hide in a closet for a couple months – who was going to miss him, anyway- but that instinct was quickly squashed by the feeling that came rushing into his chest as soon as Gilbert's lips touched his.
He liked kissing Gilbert.
Matthew felt his hands unconsciously rise to the albino's chest, and he wound his fingers into Gilbert's shirt, pressing himself into the kiss. Gilbert's tongue danced on the Canadian's lips, asking permission, and Matthew's lips parted, allowing the other to explore the warm cavern of his mouth. Gilbert –asides from tasting strongly of cheap beer- was altogether a pleasant experience.
He felt like he could go on kissing Gilbert forever.
But forever seemed to be cut cruelly short, because at that moment Alfred and Ludwig both attacked their respective siblings, wrenching them apart with much yelling and reprimanding.
Ludwig was telling Gilbert not to take advantage of people like…like -well, whoever that was. Alfred was yelling at Matthew that Gilbert was a drunken ex-nation who'd only get him in trouble and what on earth had gotten into him? Because Matthew was yelling back, real yelling, not whispering with a cross expression on his face.
"I said, Alfred, that I'm old enough to take care of myself, THANK YOU VERY MUCH and I'd appreciate it if you didn't get involved in my personal affairs and don't you forget who's house is directly north of yours, with, I might add, a VERY NICE POSITIONING IF, SAY, I WANTED TO ENGAGE IN HOSTILITIES!"
It was a thinly veiled threat that even Alfred had to pick up on, and he let go of Canada's lapels, looking somewhat shell shocked.
Gilbert had shaken off Ludwig and was bragging to a disapproving Austria that he had so totally scored with Canada, yeah!
The meeting ended amid general chaos and high feelings on both sides of the Atlantic, with Ludwig and Alfred both blaming each other for their brothers' behavior.
Gilbert was leaving in a flow of people when Matthew wriggled up between the crowd besides him.
"Hey, little Mattie!" Gilbert cuffed him affectionately.
Matthew flushed. "H-hey, Gilbert…"
"When you said that- well- that it would kill two birds with one stone, (apologies to little birdy) one was drawing attention, but what was the other?" he went slightly red, remembering the strategy of 'drawing attention'.
Gilbert grinned wickedly and leaned forward. "Well, you're not gloomy anymore, are you, little Mattie?"
Matthew reflected. He beamed. "No, I'm not!" A grin to rival Gilbert's spread over his face. "Busy?"
Gilbert shook his head. He leaned in to Matthew's shoulder. "You smell like maple," he commented softly.
"Then you wanna come over my place? There's one hell of a lot of things two people can do with maple syrup…"
Oh ho ho...suggestive ending is suggestive! I'm sure you can fill in the blank with your imagination...;D
Oh, and, yeah, I can't write Prussia for my life. Any tips on how to improve?