Title: Operation Not to Hot
Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
Pairing: PruCan and Spamano + USUK mentioned in passing.
Summary: Matthew Williams is shy, athletic, and invisible. He's perfectly fine with hiding behind his brother until he sees Gilbert Beilschmidt, AKA super-good-looking-geek. Matthew hopes to gain the courage to talk to him. But then the German basically transforms into a sex god and guh, how is he supposed to talk normally to him?
Warnings: Swearing, innuendo, canoodling, and OOC-ness.
Word Count: 5,550 (ah, five more words and it would've been so cool)
a/n: ;A; I'm literally sobbing with joy. I'm so glad everyone liked this story after reading it! *frolicks around*/SHOT Thanks you for your very kind reviews! I is a happy authoress. Thanks to the anons and fav-ers as well. *hands out cyber cookies*
a/n2: This totallyfails. It's an extra (Matt's POV) that you can read if you want. I suggest you don't. Agh. I'm sorry I butched your character, MATTHHEWWW! –dies-
Sasha- ;A; Thank you for your kind words! I was truly afraid the ending would ruin the rest of the story, but I'm so glad that's not the case!
ASLKGCVDVDCFC- Does this count as an update? :D
RainWatersCrystal- Your PM is disabled, so I thought I'd answer you here. IF WE GET MARRIED, WOULD YOU GIVE ME BANANA CHOCOLATE CHIP CAKE? THAT'S BASICALLY THE WAY TO MY HEART.
Disclaimer: Do not own Hetalia, Power Rangers, Nintendo, Skull Candy, Kingdom Hearts or Halo- waurghh!
Matthew Williams grew up in Ottawa, Ontario with his doting mother. He was the kid watching animated cartoons and coughing up milk with his brother in kiddie pyjamas, holding his stuffed polar bear. His twin brother, Alfred, was adored by everyone. Matthew didn't mind so much, because he had friends and his mother never forgot about him (unlike his teachers, who frequently marked him absent). Mathew's mother was not unfair; she loved both her sons equally and treated them as so. One never received more than the other.
Matthew did have a father. He moved to the United States after divorcing his wife, living the life of a bachelor freely. Unfortunately, the twin's mother fell ill and when Matthew and Alfred turned ten, he got full custody over them.
Matthew didn't complain. After his teary goodbye with his mother, life changed drastically: he fell completely under his brother's shadow.
He didn't get jealous or spiteful. He got upset and lonely. Of course, Alfred was his best friend, but it wasn't the same as being friends with someone who wasn't family. It just wasn't.
Matthew learned to get over this. So what if Alfred was the favourite of his father, peers, and teachers? Matthew would just have to transform like those animated characters, right?
So, Matthew made himself work. He and his brother were twins, and one of the things they shared other than breakfast was determination and a love for sports.
Matthew became one of the best damn hockey players in their town.
He and Alfred grew closer now that athletics became a bigger bond between them, Matthew's father paid much more attention to him, and people noticed him. It was amazing. It was perfect.
And Matthew liked it this way. He was getting everything he would ever need, and it was satisfying.
And then he transferred schools in his third year of high school.
Matthew sighs discreetly as he is firmly placed at a lunch table by his over-enthusiastic brother, Alfred. He's talking loudly and laughing with a bunch of boys Matthew's never even seen before. It figures Alfred would round up so many people, even on the first day. They've only had two classes and everyone already knows Alfred. It's not as bad as Matthew thought it would be, however. Students are walking up to him, Matthew, and introducing themselves. Girls are winking and boys are grinning. Matthew comes up with two explanations:
1) They have confused him with Alfred. It happens so often, Matthew doesn't mind.
2) Maybe, just maybe, Matthew is getting to be as charismatic as his brother.
It would make sense, right? Earlier this morning in gym he was introduced to the entire soccer team, in which a one Antonio Fernandez Carriedo smiled and welcomed him warmly.
"There are team tryouts later. You got some muscle," Antonio had prodded Matthew's for once uncovered bicep. "Do you play baseball?"
Quietly, Matthew answered "No, hockey."
Antonio had grinned broadly and gave a huge speech about how the school had an ice rink and a hockey team, encouraging Matthew to go to the try outs.
Back to the present, Matthew was poking his poutine. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.
Someone tells a joke and everyone laughs, and Matthew is brought out of his daze. Alfred is laughing so wildly beside him, Matthew can't help but giggle.
"Oh!" exclaims a cheerleader with brown pig tails. She smiles. "When did you get here?"
"Me?" Matthew squeaks, and suddenly people are noticing him and talking to him, and Matthew is a bit overwhelmed. They're asking him to speaking French (damn, Alfred must have let it slip that he was bilingual) and some cheerleaders are staring flirtatiously at him. Matthew quietly answers questions ("I play hockey. I do speak French. Um, yes we have the same parents. My eyes? Oh yes, they are an unusual colour. Say something in French? Um, vous tous parle beacoup. What did I say? Uh…"), hands curling together in his lap awkwardly. He stares at his brother, who smiles reassuringly.
Alfred knows how uncomfortable Matthew gets around people (despite how he wants to be noticed), and gently encourages him to have more confidence. Well, gently most of the times. Other times he is shoving Matthew down a hall to talk to some people he's never even seen.
"You're absolutely adorable!" coos another girl. Alfred hides a snicker into the palm of his hand and Matthew smiles sweetly at the girl before glaring at his brother. Alfred having way too much fun watching him be mauled with words.
When the questions die down, Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. Everyone seems to be satisfied with his answers, and are now talking heatedly about tryouts. Matthew's stomach growls softly and he flushes embarrassedly. Reaching for his poutine, he notices Alfred munching on it.
Alfred looks sheepish (though the look is spoiled because fries are peeking out of his mouth) and clumsily digs around in his pocket for his wallet. When he pulls it out Matthew really has to resist groaning. Because it's an old Power Ranger wallet, one Alfred can't part with. Matthew doesn't really know the story but apparently some British kid Alfred liked when he was younger gave it to him before the kid moved. Alfred smiles as his thumb grazes the wallet before pulling out a five dollar bill and handing it to Matthew. "Here you go!"
Shaking his head Matthew fights the fond smile. "Right. Thanks. Next time try not to consume my meal." Alfred shrugs, continuing to eat the poutine. Matthew looks around the cafeteria, curious on what others are eating.
He sees two boys—who look identical. More twins, perhaps?—sitting with a muscular blonde boy, an Asian boy, and…oh, there's Antonio, rushing to the table. Matthew watches curiously as the Spanish soccer captain pounces on one of the brown haired boys, seemingly nuzzling the top of his head—woah! Did that boy just knee him? What the heck? Antonio didn't seem disturbed or angry; in fact he's holding his injured stomach and continuing to talk happily. What the heck.
Matthew looks away, puzzled, and begins to notice everyone is eating poutine. Matthew assumes that's all there is. Not that that's a problem. Poutine is one of his comfort foods, after all. Though, he swore there was a pasta salad on the menu…So Matthew looks towards the cafeteria line. He doesn't want to line up if it's…too…
But he doesn't find himself looking at the cafeteria line.
He's looking into red eyes shielded by glasses.
Matthew's pretty sure everything freezes in those seconds. He's staring at a boy who's in a huge baggy sweater with the words "NINTENDO" across his chest. He's a bit awkward looking, but that's what's pulling Matthew in. He's awkward and lanky and has hopelessly tousled hair. But it's in that moment Matthew wants to get to know this boy.
But then the boy ducks his head quickly, manoeuvring out of his seat and speed walking out of the cafeteria.
Matthew—reserved, quiet Matthew—has never wanted to talk to someone so badly in his life.
It's in chemistry when he realizes, oh, he's in my class.
Matthew is the smarter of the twins. While Alfred was swimming in charisma and all-around athletic talent and strength, Matthew was more intellectually inclined. He cares about his studies and is polite to his teachers. So it's no surprise that Matthew, although in the same grade as his twin, is taking courses above his grade level. Well, some of them anyway.
Matthew walks into his next class, chemistry. He's nervous; he's only met the kids his age and a couple of seniors who got chummy with Alfred. So entering a grade twelve academic class was making him shake. Just a bit.
He takes a seat near the back, sort of centered in the middle. Everyone else is filing in slowly, laughing loudly while a few are blasting music from Skull Candy ear buds. Matthew's pulling out his pencil and some paper from his binder when a loud SLAM freaks everyone the fuck out.
"Hello!" grins a man at the door, looking extremely boisterous. He has wavy brown hair a a flyaway curl. He's old, but handsomely so. His face is well defined and his body is in good shape. You'd think he'd be a stick in the mud, but he's grinning so widely that that possibility is thrown out the window. Matthew notices the roguish twinkle in his eye. It seems this teacher—who is probably their chemistry teacher—likes more than a bit of fun.
Everyone rushes to their seats, whispering a bit before silencing completely. The man comes to the front of the room at the desk and rests a suitcase down. Looking up he grins. "I'm Romero Vargas, the principal of this school. Of course, you guys probably know that, ahahaha!"
No. Matthew did not know that.
"You probably also know your teacher is currently out for the day—doing god knows what—so I'll be monitoring your class. Just do whatever you want, I don't care. Just don't acid anyone's arm off, 'kay?"
Some guys by Matthew high five each other. A group of girls giggled excitedly.
"Buuuuut~" Mr. Vargas continues, "I need to do attendance first. Then you guys can skip out or do whatever the heck you kids do. Ride ponies for all I know…" he mumbles the last part with a pout. Pulling out a white sheet he says: "When I call your name, say the name of a country!"
"…a country?" a girl asked, confused.
Mr. Vargas simply shrugs.
As Mr. Vargas reads off names in song, it is at this point Matthew realizes this school has people from all cultures. There's a girl named Katsuyasha who says Ukarine, a boy named Feliks who says Poland—even a boy named Berwald who says Sweden (at least, Matthew thinks he said Sweden; he's mumbling and it's hard to hear).
"Matthew Williams!~" sings Mr. Vargas. Matthew is snapped out of his daze. Students are staring at him (from the corner of his eye, he feels like someone is staring intensely at him) and waiting for him to say a country so Mr. Vargas can move on.
"Uh, Canada!" Matthew squeaks as someone says 'hurry up!'. A few students smile at this while Matthew slumps in his seat, face burning.
"Very nice! Okay, Gilbert Bei-lsch-midt!~"
Everyone looks around curiously—even Matthew. It's such a strong, German last name and Mr. Vargas had stumbled over it while singing.
Matthew looks to his right and nearly has a fit.
Because, there's that sweater-glasses guy and he's stretching with a yawn, sweater riding up just a bit, showing a strip of pale skin. He's not as big as the sweaters suggest; in fact, he's skinny. But Matthew can make out some muscle and he likes what he sees.
When the albino boy is done yawning he says, "Prussia."
Mr. Vargas laughs. "Prussia doesn't exist anymore!"
"It's the most awesome country to ever exist. Just take a look at the Austrian Succession." The boy mumbles as Mr. Vargas moves on to someone named Lars. Gilbert is fiddling with his pencil, clearly not paying attention to the rest of the class but Matthew is okay with that. If he was paying attention, he might notice Matthew staring. And Matthew's not sure if this guy will take offence to that or not.
Just as Matthew begins to look away, he's lost in red eyes again. Gilbert's staring right at him and they both just can't seem to stop.
It's Matthew who breaks it off, keeping his face straight and staring at his hands which rest gently on his desk.
He's going to talk to Gilbert. He's going to talk to Gilbert, learn about him, and maybe grow to be his friend.
…or maybe, Matthew thinks shyly as he glances at the boy, a bit more than 'just friends'.
It's been two months since Matthew has basically eye-stalked the poor German, Gilbert Beilschmidt. And Matthew's head over heels for him. He doesn't even know when he started picking up all of Gilbert's habits and quirks. He can't even count the times he stared at Gilbert at the cafeteria or in class. Matthew knows a thing or two about Gilbert now:
1) He has an older brother named Ludwig Beilschmidt.
2) He's friends with Antonio and a boy named Francis Bonnefoy. Apparently they're the 'Bad Friends Trio'. Alfred asked and a girl said "They pull a lot of pranks. They have another name, too." The 'Bad Touch Trio'. Once again, Alfred asked why. Matthew was too busy spacing out about Gilbert 'bad touching' him. "Because Francis is a man-slut and Antonio is sexy." What about Gilbert? "Huh? Oh that albino kid. He's more of a tag-along, I think."
3) Gilbert is not a fucking tag-along. He's actually an important part of the group, Matthew noticed. He's the middle guy, the guy who is flanked by a boy on each side as he gives careful (or not too careful) advice.
4) Gilbert's flustered face makes Matthew malfunction. Matthew is reverted to his shy, unsure self around this boy. The other day they bumped into each other, Matthew was apologizing profusely (as was Gilbert, to Matthew's amusement).
5) He's definitely a gamer kid. He's always wearing sweaters with console names stretched across them, and sometimes he'll crack a joke in class that only Matthew, a handful of guys, and the occasional girl get.
6) He is sexy. Yeah, okay, to make things clear Matthew does not have baggy sweater complex. He in fact has an oh-my-gosh-he's-peeling-off-his-gym-shirt fetish. Because after a day of sweaty basketball with his brother Alfred, Matthew glanced to the other side of the court and saw the other gym class. Which contains shirts and skins. And Gilbert just so happens to be on the skins side, which lead sot super-sexy-peeling-off-of-the-shirt time for Matthew. And so what if all the cheerleaders on the side are giving him a 'ugh, no' look? It's their horrible loss. Because Gilbert is amazing.
Gilbert's awesome (a word the German boy uses a lot), funny, dorky, hot, and everything Matthew wants in a guy. He's obviously not shy and although he seems to lack some confidence, Matthew can relate to that because hell, Matthew is always thinking about how to make people like him and how to be like his brother.
But suddenly all that, being popular crap is insignificant. He just wants to talk to Gilbert.
But he's honestly not sure how to.
"And he's always complaining how I'm too loud and stuff! I mean, yeesh! I'm not loud, I'm excited! He seriously has to get his panties out of twist! You know, I told him that and he nearly tackled me to the floor! I wish he wasn't such a stick in the mud! He was way more happy when we were little tykes!" Alfred quickly laughed, talking to his brother at the kitchen table excitedly. It's an hour after to school, and the boys decided to eat early.
Matthew is making a tower with his sliced up carrots. School is over and he's got no homework, thankfully, but he's still mulling over one thing, or rather, person: Gilbert. He's trying to focus on his brother's ramblings about a guy named Arthur Kirkland (and from what Matthew's seen over these past two months, they have some unresolved sexual tension), but he's too busy scolding himself. He had a perfect chance to talk to Gilbert today.
Gilbert was by his locker, fiddling with his DS and mumbling some German expletives (Matthew assumed, judging how rushed and angry he sounded). Matthew considers barrelling into him and claiming it was an accident, but that was probably a horrible idea. And then he saw the game as Gilbert turned his DS a bit.
Matthew may not be game savvy, unlike Alfred, but he's played a few games and Kingdom Hearts just so happens to be one of them. He could start a conversation! Quickly walking to the German boy's locker, clasping his binder so tight his knuckles are turning white, he opens his mouth—
"Ah! Ma petite Canadienne!"
And fucking Francis chose that moment to steal Matthew away and talk to him in French for the entire in-between class 10 minutes.
"Mattie? Are you listening? Mattie!" Alfred pouts, poking Matthew with a fork.
Matthew snaps out of his daze. "Wu-what?
Alfred sighs deeply. "Mattie, you've been spacing out. What's up?" He grasps Matthew's wrist, prevent the boy from leaving the table and his uneaten meal.
Matthew fidgets uncomfortably. "Uh, nothing." His face is burning up and agh Alfred is beginning to grin!
"You totally want to bone someone at our school!" Alfred exclaims, releasing Matthew and laughing wildly.
"W-what?" Matthew sputters in surprise. "N-NO! I like Gil—I mean, argh, there's no one!"
"Gil, huh?" Alfred smirks, eyebrows wiggling. "If I'm not mistaken, that's that nerdy albino kid, right?"
"Alfred, this conversation is over!" says the smaller blonde, sitting up and beginning to leave the table.
"I know someone who can help you get into his pants~"
"I don't want to get into his pants!" shouts Matthew, face cherry red. "I-I just want to talk to him!"
Alfred smiles, suddenly looking much more serious. "I'm glad you like someone…in our last school even though you were really popular you were so quiet…"
Matthew looks at his feet when Alfred says this. "For good reason. I was always…" In your shadow.
Alfred, understanding the unspoken words, goes around the table and pulls his brother into a hug. "You're not invisible. Not anymore."
"I know…" Matthew sighs. But it isn't about being popular and loved anymore. Matthew just wants to talk to people he could possibly be comfortable with.
"Look, here, I'll call Elizabeta. She's like, this super awesome 12th grader!" Alfred grins excitedly. "She is totally into this stuff, too!"
"Matchmaking?" questions Matthew.
"Nah, gay romance."
"What?" the more muscular of the two says, looking like that was a perfectly good explanation. "She's totally into it. She has this club called the Yow-whee Shippers. They live off this. She'll give you tips to talk to him. She's like, a childhood friend of his or somethin'."
"How do you even know all this?" Matthew says in awe. It's only been two months, but if asked, Alfred could list of details of everyone in their school.
"When you get around like I do—hey, don't laugh, I didn't mean it like that—you learn a lot about people." The blonde twin flipped out his cellphone, dialling a number expertly. He's listening to the phone, frowning.
"Hunh. Voicemail. She must be busy. Weird." Alfred sighs, putting his phone in his pocket.
"Good. I don't need help." Matthew insists. "I…I can talk to him on my own."
"Obviously not, little bro!" Alfred exclaims. "It's been like, two months since I've seen you go all goo-goo eyed in the caf!"
"W-what?" squeaks Matthew.
Alfred nods his head knowingly. "Call it bro's intuition. I was watching you while eating that yummy poutine." He scratches the back of his neck as Matthew looks like a cross between embarrassed and angry. "You know, I think he likes you, too."
Matthew shakes his head and leaves the kitchen. Frowning, Alfred follows after him. They end up in the living room when Alfred grabs his wrist firmly. "Mattie!" he whines.
"Alfred, don't you think he would've talked to me by now? He's not exactly shy!"
"Well, maybe he doesn't know how to! Like you!"
This makes Matthew freeze. He's awkwardly staring at his feet, not really sure how to reply to Alfred. Alfred doesn't wait for him to respond.
"Look, let's have a crazy-ass Halo marathon! I'll get head-shots and educate you on how to talk like a hero!" Matthew raises an incredulous eyebrow as his brother puffs out his chest.
"…Fine." Matthew sighs, Alfred releasing him with an excited whoop. Alfred runs and turns on the television and the xbox, grinning like a two year old.
Matthew wakes up with a throbbing headache and the distinct feeling of his brother sleeping on his legs. Ouch. Matthew sits up, pushing his brother off his legs. He realizes he's in the living room because the television is still blaring and they're on the pull out couch.
The xbox controllers are in a tangled mess on the ground, a few cans of Crush and Moutain Dew littered on the floor. There's a bowl of half eaten popcorn near the couch, and a notebook's right beside it.
Oh, that notebook. Matthew blushes faintly, remembering how he wrote down Alfred's advice. It wasn't super amazing advice, really. It's something your teacher or mom might tell you, except, not as Alfred so wonderfully said it: "Mattie, freakin' grow a pair and just walk up and say 'Hi, I'm Matthew'!"
After that (Matthew smacked his arm really hard), Alfred told him to talk casually to him—no fake 'oh-sorry-I-bumped-into-your-manly-chest' moments (Matthew had spewed his Mountain Dew everywhere when Alfred said this. How much did he know?). Matthew was to introduce himself and ask how Gilbert was doing. If Gilbert took the bait, Matthew would politely ask he wanted to work on the new chemistry lab report. And then they'd fall in love and raise chickens (according to Alfred, anyway—Matthew smacked him again).
Then the rest of the night consisted of Alfred screaming at the television and Matthew ("I'm soooo happy for you, little bro!"), and Matthew helplessly getting his ass kicked by Alfred.
We must've fallen asleep playing Halo, Matthew thinks. He gets off the couch and tries to look for the remote to the television so he can check the time. It's under the couch (with something sticky Matthew doesn't even want to know about) when Matthew finds it. Leisurely, he clicks the 'guide' button and stares at the menu…
And literally starts to freak the fuck out.
Because it's 8:45 in the morning.
And they have to be at school at nine.
Matthew is pushing his brother through the school doors, shoving a lunch bag into Alfred's half-awake hands. He's dashing to his first class, World History.
Thankfully, the teacher's also late.
With a sigh, Matthew plops into his chair, cursing the fact he brought his backpack. Oh well. He pulls out his binder and pencil (damn, his textbook is at home) when he hears some girls giggling and sighing.
"Did you see him? He's like, sex on legs." a cheerleader says dreamily
"You wouldn't think that he would have so much muscle!" another girl sighs.
"You think he'd hookup with one of us?"
"I don't know; he basically brushed past Femke when she was panting all over him."
"Oh crap, do you think he's gay?"
Matthew rolls his eyes. Typical girl talk. Maybe he should move away from the back row this week. It was nothing but gossip.
"Damn it, all three of them are gay!"
"Maybe they have threesomes."
"Hell no—Antonio is all over that sour Italian kid. You know, the principal's grandson."
"And I don't think Francis has time to tap that ass. He already has enough threesomes and other somes."
Matthew, despite his complaints running through his mind, couldn't stop listening. They're talking about the Bad Touch Trio and Matthew is severly confused. If they're not drooling over Antonio and Francis, that would leave—
"Gilbert Beilschmidt is so fucking sexy, it isn't even funny." says Femke, strutting over to her seat. Matthew watches as the other girls turn to frown at her.
"Girl, you're all over the Bad Touch Trio. First you fling yourself at Antonio—"
"We grew up together!" Femke interjects. "Lars and him never got along but we always did!"
"—and then Francis—"
"I needed some attention, okay? My boyfriend was being an ass!"
"—and now Gilbert. He wasn't even hot until today."
Matthew is frozen. What the heck is going on? Matthew thinks Gilbert is extremely handsome, but he's never heard any other girls talk about him. The Canadian feels a little…possessive, all of the sudden. I haven't even talked to him yet. What right do I have?
"Did you see those jeans? They looked so good!"
"I saw him and Elizabeta shopping at the mall last night. Maybe that's why they were together?"
"Ohmygosh, are they dating?"
"No no! She's dating that guy with a pole up his arse—Roderich or something!"
Matthew let's his hit his desk with a loud 'thunk'.
They're too busy talking about Gilbert Beilschmidt.
(But, at least he knows why they got Elizabeta's answering machine).
At lunch Matthew is rocking in his chair, nervously looking around. Where the heck is he? Where the heck is Gilbert?
He hasn't gotten a chance to see him yet—he's only heard everyone talking about him. Everyone who talked to Matthew about random things (small talk, really) were now talking to Matthew about Gilbert's 'transformation'.
And while they talk to Matthew, Matthew is an utter wreck.
Because, a makeover means Gilbert is trying to impress someone, right?
"Wow, Mattie—you look like you're going to snap!" a voice says, sounding shocked. Matthew looks to his right, stopping his conversation with a cheerleader, watching Alfred slip into the seat with a plate of two burgers and large fries (looks like Alfred made a run to McDonalds).
Matthew chews his bottom lip. "Did you hear?"
Alfred nods. "Yeah, sounds like Gilbo-schmidt is the talk of the school."
"Dude!" Alfred exclaims, clapping Matthew's shoulder hard. Matthew glares, teeth clenching. "Stop looking so worried! If he's a hot piece of meat, it'll be easier to talk to him!"
Huh? What kind of logic was that?
And did his brother really say 'hot piece of meat'?
"Don't gimme that look!" huffs Alfred. "Look, it won't be weird that you're suddenly talking to him! He's got a new look! You can compliment him and he won't be all 'wow, where'd this kid come from'. Though I think he has the hots for you too so—"
Matthew slaps a hand over Alfred's mouth. "Shush! Mon dieu! There's people here!" That don't know Matthew's gay. For Gilbert.
And that would spread like wildfire.
Alfred pushes Matthew's hand away, beginning to munch on his burger. "Whatever you say, bro. This is basically your chance. Just remember what I said. Maybe you can go eat with him!"
Matthew perks up at this. Hey…maybe he could. Alfred grins victoriously. Because they both know Matthew gets along great with Antonio and Francis likes him. And…he could say there's no more room for him at this table.
Alfred actually was making sense.
Prepared to go over, Matthew glances at the usual Bad Touch Trio table—
And realized they're not there.
It's in chemistry class when it happens.
Matthew is sitting miserably in his seat. Every break between classes he would rush past people to Gilbert's locker, but he wasn't there. It was like Gilbert was purposely disappearing.
Then in chemistry, the girls began to giggle. The boys began to murmur. Matthew glances up, glasses falling down his nose a bit. And he sees him.
And Matthew is pretty sure he's stopped breathing.
Matthew really wasn't ready. Everything Alfred told him: whoosh! Out his brain's window.
Because Gilbert looks amazing.
No wonder everyone is staring.
He's wearing nothing but bright colours, which make his eyes pop out. Matthew really really has a thing for his eyes; which currently have a super sexy glasses frame over them. His plaid shirt fits perfectly on his body and that white v-neck shows a collar bone that's always been hidden by sweaters. Gilbert takes a seat, wallet chain hitting the chair and making a metallic clinking noise.
Okay, okay. Maybe Matthew should go up and talk to him now. Before his brain fries any further. Okay, so what was he going to say—
And of course, Gilbert takes that moment to bend and place his book under his chair. Exposing a strip of skin as the v-neck and plaid shirt ride up his back.
Matthew was sure mentally, he was incoherently yelling.
Because he was suddenly at Gilbert's desk, looking at him intensely.
What happened to 'planned conversation'?
Oh god he was screwing this up.
He should go back—
Gilbert looks up and his eyes go wide, mouth dropping. His hands clench on and unclench and Matthew is thinking that's the most adorable shocked reaction ever.
So he says the first thing that pops in his mind. Which really should've stayed in there.
"Are you trying to test me?"
Gilbert is silent for many seconds and Matthew is ready to squeak out a thousand apologies. What the heck? What the heck? Why did he say that? Oh god, Alfred would so be laughing his ass off about this!
Then Gilbert answers, sounding a bit cheeky. "Test you?"
Something in Matthew snaps and he needs to talk to Gilbert alone. He needs to tell him how he feels because this is honestly too much. He grabs Gilbert's hand and pulls him out of his seat, guiding him quickly out of the classroom. Matthew tries to ignore the stares of all his class mates, his face burning in embarrassment.
Smooth, Matthew. Smooth.
Matthew needs to say hello or something. But he doesn't stop walking until they're at a corner rather famous for couples to be making out in. Matthew's stomach does flips when he realizes this.
A little too roughly, he pins Gilbert to the wall. Say hello say hello say—
Gilbert is wearing skinny jeans, Matthew notices, not realizing he had done a once-over of Gilbert.
"Oh, mon dieu, you're wearing skinny jeans."
Gilbert's looking so pink, confused, and shocked; and Matthew's hormones are flying and he's so nervous. And when Gilbert looks down at himself, as if forgetting he's dressed up so fantastically, Matthew can't stop himself from leaning in and kissing the guy.
And it's so perfect.
Gilbert responds back and Matthew is melting. There's so much tongue and there's so much pressure; Matthew's never kissed anyone and this is incredibly sloppy. But that's what makes it so perfect. After so much helpless pinning, he's finally kissing the boy he likes. And Gilbert's kissing him back, with just as much force. The hand that touches his hip makes Matthew shiver and make a weird noise. His hearts racing and there's hardly enough air…oh yeah, air.
Matthew pulls back, breathing in sharply. His eyes open and stares right into Gilbert's eyes, refusing to look away (he's glad their glasses didn't hit together).
So Matthew basically just dragged this boy from class to make out with him. Joy. Matthew is expecting a push or a shove, or some German expletives. Because Matthew did act super crazy.
Dumbly, Matthew nods at Gilbert's breathy, shocked voice. He's not sure what to say, either. He's trying to come up with an apology, but his brain really isn't cooperating.
"I guess it worked."
Matthew realizes he says this out loud.
Because he's super confused. What worked?
Gilbert shifts awkwardly. "My awesome outfit. I finally got your attention."
"You know, I think he likes you, too."
Alfred was right. Gilbert…Gilbert liked Matthew. Invisible, awkward Matthew.
He so owes Alfred a meal at McDonalds.
The situation is too hilarious. Before he could stop the impending laughter, it escapes his lips. Gilbert is looking at him like he's an alien but Matthew too happy to care. "Getting my attention?"
"Yes?" Gilbert says, unsure. His look of confusion makes Matthew melt for the hundredth time, and the Canadian swoops forward, stealing a chaste kiss. He pulls back, trying to control the utterly love-struck smile on his face. "You caught my attention way before all this. I noticed you on the first day back to school. You're in my chemistry class, you know."
"O-Oh." Gilbert says, and then he chuckles. Matthew can't hold back his grin. "Wow, we're stupid. That is pretty unawesome."
Matthew agrees completely. "We'll have to make up for lost time." Playing video games, getting to know each other more, meeting each other's friends, hopefully more kissing…
Matthew is happily pleased when Gilbert grins broadly, leaning into for an Eskimo kiss. With nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Matthew reciprocates the affection.
"Should I keep dressing like this?" Gilbert asks, sounding genuinely concerned.
Matthew is sure he's going to say the most cheesy fucking thing ever, but it's perfect and it's exactly how he feels. Hopefully Gilbert won't mind. "Only if you want to. No matter what you wear, I've been liking you for you."
Gilbert is silent for a moment, a look of relief crossing his face. He leans in with a fond smile and kisses Matthew until the Canadian sees fireworks behind his eye lids.
All of the populars who talk to Matthew because he's brothers with Alfred, all of the phone numbers on his cell phone, screaming out Matthew's new popularity—they don't amount to this one, extremely amazing moment.
They don't amount to finally talking and kissing Gilbert Beilschmidt.
Fail ending ftw! Please accept my deepest apologies for any plot!holes. AGH.
vous tous parle beacoup- you all talk a lot
ma petite canadienne- my little canadian
mon dieu- my god