And so, Alfred found himself idly wondering how the hell he, the United fucking States of America, managed to get topped by his shy, near-invisible, and totally unawesome brother of his while said brother was smirking down at him, purple eyes glinting mischievously.

Only a few moments ago (or was it a few hours ago?), Alfred was comfortably seated on Matthew's sofa, clear blue eyes watching the other drowning his pancakes in maple syrup (Alfred could just imagine the originally perfectly good food flailing its chubby arms in the air, wailing and screaming for mercy while the syrup rained down on it unrelentingly). The Canadian, sensing Alfred's eyes on him, turned his face towards his brother.

"Yes, Alfred?" Matthew smiled gently at the American, all the while continuing to send his pancakes to a syrupy death. His slender eyebrows knit together in mild bemusement (thank God he didn't inherit Arthur's caterpillars of eyebrows - Alfred just might have been forced to raze them off forcefully).

Alfred jumped slightly. "I-I just, ya'know, grk," he said intelligently. He winced a little and cursed himself for being so inarticulate. He blamed it on how Matthew looked so adorably innocent (as usual) while cruelly murdering his own cooking.

The Canadian, shrugging, returned to suffocating his poor soggy pancakes with his beloved syrup.

"It's just – Mattie, all that maple syrup can't be good for you!" the American finally blurted out after watching Matthew's movements for a few more heartbeats, unable to stand the obvious pain of the pancakes who were now staring at him with great big pleading eyes.

The Canadian waved a hand at Alfred. "Don't worry about me Alfred. I would actually worry about your diet a bit more," Matthew added in an undertone. "But I've been meaning to ask: what did you come to my place for anyways? Did your boss send you?"

"What, can't your own awesomely heroic brother come visit you?" America pouted, ready to pull the puppy dog eyes. "And nah, Obama didn't send me. I came here 'cause I wanted to see you, bro!" He beamed, flashing his brilliant heroic smile at Canada.

Matthew simply picked up a fork, finally taking pity on the pancakes that were now crying big fat tears of syrup, and proceeded to stab at them, bringing the maple-drenched food to his mouth. However, Alfred noted with amusement, the other's cheeks were flushed pink, betraying his otherwise passive appearance.

Alfred pulled the puppy dog eyes. "You know you love me, bro~" he said teasingly.

Matthew ignored him and kept eating, the blush much more noticeable on his face.

Alfred stuck his bottom lip out a bit more.

Matthew continued jabbing at the stack of pancakes, a deep flush now crawling up his neck.

Alfred made a small whining noise at the back of his throat.

Canada picked up the last piece of pancake, swiped it around his plate to pick up the last of the syrup, then delicately placed it into his mouth. He then attempted to give his brother his infamous "Vimy Ridge" glare; although, the blush did take a lot away from its intended coldness.

Alfred gave a rather high-pitched (and completely manly) giggle. Despite the glare probably not being as frightening as the one Canada gave Germany years ago, it was still pretty intimidating. Alfred winced a bit. 'Dude, that so ain't cool,' he thought.

Realizing that Arthur would probably be calling him a "wanker" and a "git" and many other colorful words for ruining the "beautiful English language" by now, Alfred gave another shrill (and completely manly) giggle.

Matthew gave another confused glance at his brother as he uncorked yet another bottle of maple syrup. "What is it, Alfred?"

"Nah, just thinking 'bout our old man," Alfred said, leaning back, an easy grin gracing his face, having already forgotten about the glare he received just a few moments ago.

"England, eh?" Matthew smiled a little stiffly.

"Yeah man," Alfred replied, not noticing that the temperature in the room was quickly dropping several degrees. "Was just thinkin' about how that stuffy old man would be trying to kick my heroic ass for ruining his 'beautiful' language. I can only imagine what Artie's face would look like if he could hear this right now." He chuckled, mind drifting off to happily imagine the Brit's glowing green eyes glaring daggers, his monstrous eyebrows eating up his entire forehead in his anger – not that that was anything new.

Matthew's smile became impossibly strained. "Yes, England would definitely not be happy with you."

Alfred finally noticed the rather twisted look on Matthew's face. "Yo Mattie, you alright there?"

"Wonderful. Never been better," the Canadian gave a bright – and rather fake – smile.

America frowned. "Are you sure Mattie? You sure that all that maple syrup didn't finally get to you?"

"Oh no, there's definitely nothing wrong with the maple syrup!" Matthew frowned. "Actually …"

"What is it Matt?" Alfred was starting to become very concerned.


"Just spit it out, man. Ya'know, Artie wouldn't want you holding it in either –"

In the next instant, Alfred found himself lying flat against the couch, arms pinned above his head. His brother's vivid purple eyes glared into his own blue ones, mouth pressed tightly shut in anger.

"U-uh, Matt? What's –"

"Are you and Arthur seeing each other." Canada's voice cut flatly in, eyes still boring into his.

"Wha – of course – why would you – no!" Alfred replied, face flushing a deep red as the Canadian leaned down towards his ear.

"Then you shouldn't be talking so much about Arthur when you're with me, eh?" Matthew whispered into the American's ear, causing Alfred to shiver.

"A-aha, Mattie, when'd you become so … badass …?" Alfred giggled nervously, trying to break the intensity of the situation.

Matthew lifted his head up in surprise, then grinned. "It's all in the maple syrup, you know."

Alfred gave one last mental note to himself before his mind completely shut down as Matthew began attacking his neck.

Start importing more maple syrup from Canada.


/brain explodes.

Sorry about OOCness and fail ending. D : I had intense problems with trying to characterize Mattie – it's surprisingly hard to write about him. :\

I PROMISE I'LL GET AROUND TO MY OTHER FICS. OTL I just had a sudden urge to write Hetalia. :'D