Oh gawd, I am so sorry. -sobs- The bunnies just won't leave me alone! -is dragged away by the plotbunnies-

Warnings: sexual situations, AU, slash, language, fail, OOCness

Pairings: Alfred/Matthew, Arthur/many, Arthur/Francis eventually

"Its like he's cockblocking me on purpose, Matt!" Alfred whined, draping himself across his boyfriend's lap. Glancing up at Matthew's unsympathetic face, the blond's lips twisted into a pout, blue eyes sulking.

"Just because Arthur is my brother and you two have been arguing since you the day you both met, does not mean that he's out to get you." Matthew said dryly, violet eyes unimpressed with his boyfriend's behavior.

"When was the last time we did the mattress mambo, huh?" Alfred demanded.

Matthew looked thoughtful, idly running a comforting hand through the other's golden hair. "Last night?"

"I barely had the lube out before Arthur called, drunk, wanting to apologize for all the times he accidently locked you out of the house when you were young."

"At least he apologized." The Canadian pointed out gently.

"And the time before that? He purposely flushed the toilet when we were trying to have shower sex!" The elder blond scowled, still tormented by the memory of a wet and squirming Matthew and still incredibly bitter that he wasn't able to savor the moment.

"When nature calls…" Matthew shrugged, tugging on Alfred's flyaway strand of hair.

"And Christmas sex?" Alfred snapped, sitting up and grabbing Matthew's face between his hands. "He just had to deliver your presents that night?"

Matthew glared at Alfred, cheeks smooshed together under the other's palms. "He gets excited during the holidays."

Giving his boyfriend a final frustrated look, Alfred sighed loudly and flopped against the younger man. "Just because he can't get any, he thinks we all have live like nuns."

"Alfred." Matthew scolded, shoving the other man with a frown. "He's my brother. He's all I have left. You don't like him, fine. But just because you're incapable of going with sex for a few days, doesn't mean you can make him the bad person in all of this. When he finds that special person, he will give us some more space but until then show some compassion!"

Alfred ducked his head, shame coloring his cheeks. His boyfriend always knew how to make him feel bad. Sometimes, that soothing, soft voice would drag him to a pit of despair and tears, if Matthew were really angry.

"Honestly, sometimes I think you only want me for the sex." The blond huffed, glaring at the contrite American.

"That's not true!" the man responded quickly. "You make orgasmic pancakes too!"

Matthew, smile twitching on his lips, grabbed one of the throw cushions and smacked Alfred upside the head with it. "Hoser."

"But you love me anyways~" Alfred cooed, grabbing the pillow as Matthew swung it again and pulled the leaner man onto his lap. "My little Canuck cap."

Matthew smiled widely this time, leaning forward and pecking Alfred on the lips. "And you're favorite bitch." Laughing at the other's confused frown, he explained, "Just like America is Canada's bitch—'cause my nation tops."

"Hahaha—yeah, no." Alfred said flatly, blue eyes teasing. "Speaking of bitches, are you ready to watch my boys spank your precious Habs?"

"No, but I'm prepared to watch all of Boston cry when we trounce them." Matthew responded carelessly, a competitive edge to his voice. He glanced over at the digital clock. "Ten minutes to game time."

"…I think that's enough time for a quickie."

Matthew just stared at him incredulously, prompting Alfred to defend himself. "I'm horny, damn it!"

"I think you're offsides."

"I might be offsides," Alfred smirked, tugging Matthew closer. "but wouldn't you like a little high-sticking in your crease?"

The other blond blinked before starting to laugh. Alfred grinned and tilted his head up, pressing his lips firmly against the other's and drinking in the peals of laughter that fell from Matthew's lips. Pulling away, he set to work nipping and kissing the area below Matthew's jaw while slipping his hand's under the other's shirt.

"He shoots, he scores." Matthew murmured, knotting his hands in Alfred's hair and tugging his head back for another kiss and Alfred gladly obliged, fingers pressing into the warm skin of his boyfriend's torso—

When the door flew open and a distinctly British voice called out, "I believe there's a hockey match on the telly today. I've brought dip!"

Both men froze, turning their heads to see Arthur enter the living room, green eyes stern and a disappointed curve to his lips. "This place is a mess, Matthew. I thought I raised you better than this." Finally he noticed the two blonds on the couch. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Matthew was the first to come to his senses. "N-no, of course not!" He denied vehemently, mortified that his brother had caught him in such a position. Pushing himself off Alfred, he dashed into the kitchen, shouting, "I'll make some tea!"

Alfred, on the other hand, made no move to stand or cover his hard-on. Lips forming a thin line, he laughed harshly and said, "What a surprise, Iggy! I don't remember inviting you."

Arthur just smiled coldly. "Not on my watch, you Yankee git." With a haughty sniff, the sandy-haired man turned and followed his younger brother into the kitchen.

Alfred just cursed. "Not trying to cockblock me, my ass."

"Remember when you said once Arthur finds that special person, he'll leave us alone?" Alfred began casually, eyes focused on the television as he flipped through the channels.

Matthew made an affirmative noise, not even looking up from where he was refilling Kumajirou's bowl. The cat meowed happily and started to eat, though not before giving Matthew a questioning look.

Oh well. It wasn't the first time (in the five years he had been taking care of it, Matthew noted with resignation).

"Well, I have this friend—"

"We are not setting up my brother with one of your insane friends just so 'Little Alfred' can get some action." Matthew said with finality.

Well, damn it.

Alfred finally settled on Real Housewives of New York. Just to annoy Matthew.

(And also because he wanted to know what would happen when Jill crashed the girls' getaway.)

"Fuck, just like that." Alfred said breathlessly, shakily brushing a few strands of Matthew's hair away from his face, just so he could see those wicked lips wrapped around his dick. "You're so beautiful."

Matthew hummed lightly, the vibrations forcing Alfred to groan even as his blue eyes were locked on the source of his pleasure. Shimmering violet eyes stared back as Matthew purposely dragged his mouth up and off the other's member, before teasing the head and underside with kitten-esque licks, hand sneaking forward to fondle Alfred's sac.

"You're killin' me Mattie." Alfred whined, throwing his head back even as his body trembled under the other's ministrations.

Matthew just chuckled lowly before, much to Alfred's delight, he began to pump the organ leisurely with sure strokes of his hand.

"So fucking close—"

"Matthew! I just found this new recipe for scones!"

Alfred bit back a wail of despair as Matthew jerked back, violet eyes wide and cock immediately flaccid, when he registered his brother's voice.

"Coming Arthur!" He shouted, ever the dutiful brother. Turning back to Alfred with apologetic eyes, he whispered, "Let me just finish you quickly."

"Don't bother." Alfred snapped, blue eyes furious. "I'll just go jerk off in the bathroom." Sneering, he added, "Unless you gave him the keys to that too?"

The hurt on Matthew's face as he got off the bed and starting to pull his clothes back on, made Alfred feel like an ass.

"I'm sorry, Mattie." He said cajolingly, blue eyes watching the other's jerky movements. "I shouldn't have—"

Matthew ignored him, buttoning up his jeans and pulling on a discarded shirt before storming out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Alfred swore, brushing his hair back roughly.

He was still painfully hard and he'd probably be sleeping on the couch for the next week. If he was lucky.

"Forgive me?"

Matthew glanced up from his book, pretty violet eyes frosty as he regarded Alfred evenly. The other blond wore a hesitant smile but his pacific blue eyes were repentant as held out a haphazardly gift-wrapped box. With a pointed frown that indicated that Matthew was only humoring the other male, the Canadian reached for the box and began to unwrap it with deft fingers.

Alfred held his breath and crossed his fingers as he waited for the other's reaction. Once Matthew had removed the brightly colored paper and lifted the lid to reveal the brand new jersey nestled between tufts of tissue paper, he said, quietly, "I know how much you like Sidney Crosby." He watched Matthew lift up the jersey and turn it over to see the name emblazoned across the back. As he pulled up the material, two tickets tumbled down. "I thought you'd wanna go watch…"

Matthew was silent, but when he spoke his voice was subdued. "This is…I mean, I appreciate it…but its too much, don't you think?" He looked up, face guilty. "I was just going to ignore you for another day."

Alfred shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I thought me constantly complaining about being horny made you feel less important." He paused, flashing a boy-next-door smile at his boyfriend. "I just want to spend some time with you, like we used too before we got so busy at work." And before your brother decided to hijack our lives, he added to himself. "And while you still owe me a blowjob, I figure I'll just put it on your tab for now." He said with an easy laugh.

Matthew's lips curved into a sweet smile. "Actually, I think I want to pay off my tab now." He stood up, stretching languidly so his shirt rode up to reveal pale skin. "Maybe lay down a deposit?"

And with that he sauntered down the hall and into the bedroom.

"God, I love this man." Alfred muttered, following close behind with a rakish smile on his lips.

Yes, Arthur did call just as Alfred entered Matthew, eliciting a stream of filthy Quebecois curses from Matthew and a litany of "Why me?"s from Alfred.

After hanging up on Arthur following a long and tearfully boring discussion on what color of socks Matthew wanted Arthur to knit, Matthew turned to Alfred, who was now curled up on the side of the bed, exuding a miasma of sorrow so thick that even Matthew felt the urge to tear up.

"Maybe we should put a personal ad for him in the paper?" The blond said softly, now a little miffed at his brother's repeated coincidental interruptions. "But with his permission, of course. I want my brother to be happy."

Alfred, who would much rather sell Arthur to a black market prostitution ring (sell? Hell, he'd just hand over the stuffy, meddling Englisman for free!), was quick to agree.

The sooner Arthur had someone special, the sooner Alfred could get back to his special someone.

Worth continuing?