Because I just can't stop tormenting my dear America. I present you, dear readers, with this bit of fanfiction. The plot bunny just wouldn't leave me alone and... -helpless shrug- IDK. I hope it turned out well.
Warnings: Language, OOCness, slash, incest, undertones of non-con
Pairings: LarsXMatthew (NetherlandsXMatthew) & one-sided Alfred/Matthew
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
"Get off him you pervert!"
Matthew gasped as his brother, eyes ablaze, grabbed Lars by the collar of his shirt and dragged him away from Matthew. "Alfred!"
"What the fuck man?" Lars snarled, shoving the blond teenager. The ashen haired brunet adjusted his shirt collar and glared viciously at Alfred.
"Lars please." Matthew pleaded, placing a comforting hand on the older boy when he noticed the way his muscles tenses as though ready to lunge at Alfred.
"Stay out of this Matthew." Alfred snapped, becoming further enraged.
"No." Matthew snapped, turning cold violet eyes towards the other. "No, I will not stay out of this. You're the one who should stay out of this. This is none of your business."
Alfred was seething. Is this really how Matthew was going to be? He had been skipping class (it was Spanish anyways and its not like the teacher would notice he was missing since he was always too busy teasing one of the Italian students) when he saw the two in the hallway. And while he may not be the most observant guy in the world, but he knew what he saw.
He saw Matthew, his precious innocent darling Matthew, pinned to the wall with that Dutch bastard looming over him with that creepy creeper grin! He saw his Matthew cornered, virtue at stake, and…and…
How was this not his business?
"Matt! I'm just trying to protect you!" Alfred protested. He couldn't help but feel a sense of hopelessness when the other glared at him through pale gold bangs. "He was going to rape you!"
"I was only going to kiss him you idiot." Lars snapped.
Alfred froze and, for the longest while, it seemed like he couldn't breathe. Finally, he looked at Matthew, who averted his gaze, choosing instead to idly fiddle with one of the loose threads of his too long red hoodie.
And that's when Alfred saw it. Peeking just above the collar of Matthew's hoodie, just below the curve of his jaw, was the damning scarlet splotch standing out against pale—almost white—skin.
Matthew had a hickey.
His Matthew had a hickey.
Wordlessly, Alfred turned on his heel and stalked off, half hoping to hear Matthew call him, urge him to come back and beg to talk it over.
When his name wasn't called, Alfred didn't know whether to cry or punch something.
When asked about the angry cuts and blossoming bruises on his knuckles, Alfred laughed and said something about falling off his motorcycle.
"As long as you live under my roof, you abide by my rules!" Arthur bellowed, his thick eyebrows bristling with rage. "And having significant others and sexual relations before you are eighteen are prohibited!"
He glared down at his guilty son with hard emerald eyes. Matthew glared back at him, tears of hatred brimming in his eyes. Arthur felt his resolve weaken at the malice in his youngest child's distinctive eyes but he forced himself to stay firm.
"You are sixteen years old. You should be focused on your schoolwork! Do not let anything get in the way of your education!"
"I never brought home anything less than an A." Matthew said hoarsely, feeling tears slide down his cheeks. "I'm on the honor roll. You would know that if you paid attention!"
"Don't take that tone with me boy."
"Why not? You never listen to any other tone!" Matthew snapped. "You're always too busy berating Alfred for failing a class to even glance at my report cards! My accomplishments are nothing to you! It doesn't matter if Alfred fails or not! He's always been first in your eyes! You've never cared about what I did before so why start now?!" Matthew shouted, relishing in Arthur's stunned look. He had been aiming to hurt.
"Because you've always been the good one! I've never had to worry about you! Until now!" Arthur was overcome with guilt. He knew there was truth to his youngest son's words, loathe as he was to admit, but that didn't mean the lad was unimportant to him.
"If Alfred was having sex, you wouldn't care." Matthew muttered, angry and hurt and tired of all the unfairness.
"That's not true. And this isn't about Alfred, Matthew. It's about you—"
"I've wanted that for so long." Matthew laughed coldly. "But it's just my luck it happens now."
"Matthew—" Arthur started, taken aback when his usually obedient son shot to his feet and ran up the stairs, feet pounding on the wooden steps. The slam of a door reverberated throughout the house and Arthur sighed tiredly, sinking into the couch and holding his head in his hands.
Francis, who had been silently listening to the scene in the kitchen, slipped out and slid his arm around his husband's shoulder and pulled the shorter man to him.
"I didn't handle that well, at all."
"Non, pas du tout."
"It's just…its Matthew. He's always been so polite, sweet. He's always listened to me." Arthur murmured.
"But, mon amour, that doesn't mean he was always happy. You've overlooked him so often and treated him like a child for so long…"
"But he's my baby." Arthur said stubbornly.
"He's your son. He knows you love him and that's why he's always listened to you. But, this time, you didn't even let him explain his self."
Arthur was silent, listening.
"But, instead, as soon as Alfred came in, ranting and raving, and told you Matthew was having sex, you accosted the poor boy and started haranguing him."
Arthur winced. The elder man spoke the truth.
"And so what if he had sex? Let him explore love, lust. He is young. Perhaps, he will find his soul mate like we did?" Francis said softly, pressing his lips to his husband's temple. "Go apologize to him. And don't be your usual gruff, frowny self. Be tender and he will come around."
Arthur nodded. He wanted to fix things with Matthew, prove to the boy that, even if he was ignored in his elder brother's shadow, he was no less loved.
"And if you don't make sincere amends avec mon bébé, you will be sleeping on the couch forever."
"Matt, you know I don't understand that French babble."
"Okay, I get that you're mad."
"—And I don't blame you. But, would you just listen to me?"
Matthew didn't respond. Alfred reached for the doorknob and twisted it.
He sighed and let his head drop so his forehead was resting on the smooth wooden door. "I did it to protect you." He whispered, pressing both palms against the unforgiving door. "I did it because I love you."
Alfred didn't get a response but he didn't expect one either.
It really wasn't normal.
Alfred understood that whatever he felt towards Matthew wasn't normal.
He had understood that it wasn't normal to feel short of breath whenever the other smiled at him. It wasn't normal to blush whenever Matthew laughed at whatever he said. It wasn't normal to enjoy touching the younger, no matter how soft his skin or silky his hair.
And it definitely wasn't normal to notice how soft that pale skin was or how silky those tresses were.
It wasn't normal to wake up, in the middle of the night, sweating and panting with damp boxers with the name of the boy who was raised as his brother.
It just wasn't normal.
Hell, he was pretty sure it was wrong.
But he couldn't help it.
And was that so wrong?
Every since they were children, even back at the orphanage, they were close. They weren't biological brothers, despite their uncannily similar faces. Nevertheless, they gravitated towards each other and were inseparable. They slept, ate, and bathed together.
Alfred would protect Matthew and Matthew would get Alfred out of trouble.
They were even adopted together by two men who couldn't bear to separate the cute toddlers.
At the orphanage, it was understood that it was never just Alfred or just Matthew. It was always Alfred and Matthew or Matthew and Alfred.
Alfred was happy with that.
Outside the orphanage, however, it was a different story.
Alfred was a vivacious child and he drew friends with his sunny and outgoing personality.
Matthew was more reserved, shy. He looked out at the world with wide eyes and was content to just watch it. He too had friends, but never as many as Alfred but he never complained. He happily played with the same kids who loyally stayed with him, preferring his soothing quietness to the hustle and bustle Alfred created.
Soon, it became just Alfred and just Matthew.
Alfred didn't like the change. He forced Matthew to play with him, with his friends. Matthew was the damsel in distress whenever he played knights and dragons. Matthew was his deputy when playing cowboys and his sidekick when playing superheroes.
Some kids resented Matthew for being Alfred's clear favorite. Alfred never let Matthew be bullied, however, and things were okay.
Until Matthew refused to play with Alfred and instead chose to go back to his friends or play with his stuffed bear.
Alfred liked bullying Matthew's friends and hiding his bear.
He didn't like it when Matthew looked sad whenever that weird kid from Iceland stopped visiting or when he cried because he couldn't find Kumajirou.
But, it was okay because Alfred was there to play with Matthew and to hug him and help him find that plush toy.
It occurred, now to Alfred, that perhaps he had always been unnaturally possessive of Matthew even as a child.
He never grew out of it. Though Matthew was active in sports and a good student, he was always shy and people confused him for Alfred. Alfred didn't help by pretending to forget the other as well.
Matthew, though his eyes grew bitter, said nothing and merely went on, playing hockey and acing tests.
But Alfred couldn't stop everyone from interacting from his brother.
Feliks, Katyusha, that Cuban communist sonuvabitch, that Russian communist sonuvabitch, and Lars.
Lars who was fucking his Matthew.
He loved Matthew. Wrong or right, he always had. He never planned on stopping.
He'd just have to try harder.
Alfred's heart ached.
"Matthew, listen to me."
Matthew turned, his slightly curling hair whipping back even as that singly errant curl bobbed mocking in the air. His eyes narrowed. It had been two days since Alfred had tried to approach him. Two days that Matthew spent ignoring the other boy despite the pleading looks and azure eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere.
"Why should I?" Matthew hissed, glancing around him. The hallway was empty. Classes were in session.
"Because I'm sorry for what happened—"
"You told Arthur and he forbid me from seeing Lars."
"It doesn't change the fact that you told him! Not to mention you acted like such an ass the other day."
"I'm not a little kid, Al! I can take care of myself." Matthew interrupted. "I don't need you constantly butting into my life. I'm tired of it."
Alfred had stopped listening after hearing "I don't need you…"
"Look, maybe I overreacted. You were just being you, after all. Let's put this entire mess behind—" Matthew was cut off as Alfred shoved him up against the row of lockers. Matthew could feel the cold metal vibrate against his back and he looked up in shock at Alfred who had his hands fisted in his cotton shirt.
"Alfred…" Matthew was shocked. The light shining on his glasses obscured his brother's eyes and his jaw was clenched.
"I'm sorry, Matt." Alfred whispered, locking eyes with the other blond. "I just can't accept that."
His gaze was unwavering and Matthew felt uncomfortable.
"I love you too much." Alfred said softly, unashamed by his confession.
And suddenly everything started to make sense in Matthew's mind. The years of Alfred chasing away his friends, of dragging him into his games seemed darker than before. Alfred's unnatural possessiveness of him, which he once found exasperating and endearing, now seemed frightening.
For the first time, Matthew was afraid of Alfred.
And, equally quietly, he pleaded, "We're brothers."
Raised like brothers, close like brothers, brothers in appearance.
Brothers in every sense but blood.
"No," Alfred said, seriously, "Never."
I never called you brother.
Alfred let go of Matthew's shirt and leaned closer to the other boy, slipping his knee between the slimmer blond's legs. Ignoring Matthew's struggles, he pressed his weight fully on the other until their noses were touching.
"I really love you." Matthew could feel the other's lips brush against his own and he turned his head as much as he could so he wouldn't have to look into the other's innocent and adoring gaze.
Matthew could feel disgust and anger rise in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to scream I hate you.
But he couldn't do it.
Alfred was still his brother.
Yeah... erm... I actually like this even though I'm not sure what to say of it. ...I hope it wasn't too bad, however, and thank you for reading it. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review and let me know what you thought of it, though!