THIS IS A REPOST! I took down this one-shot before due to certain circumstances but I've made a few changes and it's ready to go online again.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Hetalia – Axis Powers… and never will.

Claimer: I own this fic and the ideas? Yeah, that's about right.

Kitchen High Jinks

Canada, or Matthew Williams, smiled contently to himself. This week was going very well compared to the previous. A few people recognized him at the World Conference, and his brother decided to stay the weekend. It was almost like old times when they lived under the same roof. The nostalgia made Matthew's heart feel lighter. He really missed those times, but this wasn't so bad either.

Although, when he was younger, he remembered that he and his brother were very keen on rules and safety. If you messed up, Arthur would spazz on you. That's why this particular thing peeved him a bit. And no matter how many times he told his brother to use proper procedures, he'd be laughed at.

This irritated the Canadian greatly.

He noticed it a few times before, but he guessed that's only because it was for convenience, but now there was no excuse.

"Chill out Matt, it's no big deal," the American stated a matter-of-factly.

Matthew didn't buy it though, "Alfred, just wash your hands."

"Don't need to."

"Alfred, are you that dense? Your hands are the dirtiest part of your body, wash them."

America smirked rather obnoxiously, "I can think of dirtier places."

Canada's eye twitched dangerously, "Alfred."

America stared right back at him, "Matthew."

"Wash, your, hands!"

Still in serious mode, Alfred crossed his arms, "N-O, no."

This was becoming ridiculous. Everyone knew that the American was stubborn, but he almost always listened to Matthew. So why was he acting like this for something as trivial as this?

"Alfred, what's wrong with you? It's only proper hygiene to wash your hands before you eat. It's not like you're eating with chopsticks or a fork either."

America puffed out his cheeks and put his hands on his hips, "No means no. I'm going to eat your pizza too if you keep peer pressuring me."

Matthew sighed exasperatedly, "Fine, do what you like."

Throughout lunch, Matthew looked at Alfred with a knowing yet slightly annoyed expression. Alfred questioned him several times on that but Matthew shrugged it off. The American gave up and ate his pizza in silence. It bothered the American that his brother would be so upset over something so stupid.

Finishing the last piece, America had to inquire, "Matt, are you mad at me or something?"

"No," came the reply. It was fast, almost like he was expecting the question.

"Then what's the big deal?"

Matthew put his pizza down, "The big deal is Alfred that one of my friends recently died of the swine flu and now one of my provinces has it..."

America wanted to respond, he really did. He wanted to apologize for being an insensitive asshole. The memories were playing back, and he clearly remembered that was part of Canada's speech this Wednesday. His brother nearly choked out the name as he said it. But, him being him, the only thing his mind could come up with was—


"Yes, Alfred, oh."

"Well, I don't mean 'oh', but I—I mean, I did say that, but that's not what I wanted to say!"


Alfred stared at his brother, and he stared right back. They both knew what Matthew wanted, but neither would make a move.

"Alfred F. Jones."

America glanced around nervously, "That was some good pizza, where'd you order it? Pizza Pizza or Pizza Hut?"


"Man this table's sturdy!" America did a test shake of the dinner table and ended up tipping over Matthew's maple syrup.

Oh shit.


America felt a bit of sweat drip down his forehead. His brother could be scary when he wanted to, and he was definitely going into scary mode.


"Pass me your plate."

America blinked an eye. His brother could be rather unpredictable when in scary mode. What was he going to do with the plate? Alfred paled, could he be plotting to smash it on his head?

However, the logical side of America's brain persevered this time. He handed Matthew the plate.

"Thank you." Matthew took the dishes and began cleaning them in silence. The air was so tense Alfred was almost choking on it.

Instead of feeling bad about making Matthew remember his dead friend; Alfred simply turned his head away from the blame and pinned it on Matthew. After all, it was his fault for being so soft. His brother needed to toughen up, like him. There were so many good things that came out of not being an emotional pansy.

"Hey," Canada began. This snapped America out of his reverie.


The Canadian took a deep breath and sighed, head dropping a bit to stare at his feet. "Sorry for spazzing on you... I guess."

America smiled brightly; he knew his brother would see it his way! "No problem, Matt! It's no big deal; England goes insane on me all the time. I'm used to it."

Canada nodded stiffly, but didn't move. Now America was becoming concerned. He poked tentatively at Canada's arm, but got no reaction.

"Matt?" Alfred leaned down to look his brother in the eye. His stomach constricted and he suddenly felt guilty. Matthew's eyes were skewed shut, with tears slowly leaking out. He had a look of absolute anguish on his face.

Panicking, Alfred did what he always did when Matthew cried. He pulled his brother into his arms and cradled his head. Matthew didn't push him away, and Alfred took that as a good sign and hugged him tighter. He rubbed his brother's back in a soothing circular motion, hoping to stop his tears. When they were younger, Alfred would whisper how everything was going to be alright, but he didn't now. He wasn't a naive child anymore, and he knew that not everything was going to be alright.

Nothing he said or do could bring back the dead. Not even England's black magic.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, 'kay? Stop crying, please... I'm sorry."

Matthew only cried harder, shaking his head 'no'. Alfred cursed inside his head for being so stupid. He was now trying to come up with ways to stop the crying Canadian. But he was too helpless to do anything in this situation. All Alfred could do was coddle his little brother and hope he would stop by himself.

The Canadian sensed his brother's anxiety and forcefully stopped crying. Alfred didn't mean to, he knew that. It wasn't fair to make him feel awkward and helpless.

"No, no. I should be sorry. It was stupid of me to break down like that," Matthew said, wiping his tears with his sleeve. Alfred held him out at arm's length and had an uncomfortable look on his face.

If miracles happened, this would be one.

Alfred swallowed his pride and faced the Canadian in all seriousness. "No Matthew, it wasn't your fault. You had nothing to do with her death, and your province will be fine; I should know, your country knows how to take care of itself better than most. And Matt, I'm really sorry f-for—for being an insensitive jerk."

Matthew stared at his older brother with wide eyes. Had Alfred just...? Was he dreaming? Matthew felt inclined to pinch himself, but the grip on his upper arms had already confirmed that he was awake.

When moments passed without Matthew saying anything and just staring in disbelief at Alfred, the American paled, taking it as a bad sign. "Please Matt! I'm sorry, what do you want me to do?"

Matthew didn't know what he wanted, but his chest tightened when Alfred yelled at him. He felt hurt, why was his brother so upset with him?

Taken by his sudden frustration of being rejected, Alfred pushed Matthew up against the counter and stared him straight in the eye. "Damn it Matt... Why won't you forgive me?"


Matthew lost his voice as Alfred pressed his lips against his. Matthew, too shocked to react, stayed perfectly still and his eyes closed tightly. Alfred's hand found his and took the younger's in his, putting them behind his back. Breathless, Alfred pulled back. Matthew opened his eyes again but still said nothing. Suddenly, Alfred felt a knot in his stomach.

What had he done?

Alfred backed away from Matthew slowly, this time it was his turn to be shocked. He didn't know what came over him. Why did he just kiss his younger brother? This was so wrong...

"A-Alfred...? W-why did you—"

"I don't know!"

Alfred clenched his hands at his sides, shaking slightly. He glared angrily at his feet, he had messed up everything. He didn't see how the Canadian flushed ever so slightly and lift a trembling hand to touch his lips.

Matthew carefully approached him. "Alfred, I'm—"


Matthew flinched, but didn't stop.

"I don't know what's wrong with me...! I don't know what I'll do next!"

Matthew breached the short distance and brought his brother in a hug. Alfred stiffened in his hold, but slowly responded. It was as if he didn't trust himself.

"It's all right, Al. I'm not mad or anything."

Hearing this, Alfred hugged back tightly. His face was buried in the crook of Matthew's neck and inhaled his scent. "Really?"

"Y-yes, Al." Ticklish, Matthew failed to hold in his giggles. Alfred smirked contently and purposely nuzzled against his neck more. "S-stop that."

"Mmm, no."

Damn Alfred for knowing where he was most ticklish, damn him. Matthew smiled lightly and laughed wholeheartedly, forgetting all his troubles, if only for awhile.

Alfred, a jerk most of time, had the biggest soft spot for his brother. He was happy that he could still make him laugh, even though it was usually he who brought the tears. From now on however, he swore to himself to pay more attention to his northern neighbour. Being able to let loose and just laugh again was priceless. Not to mention an added bonus of an adorable, blushing Canadian.