This was originally written for the kinkmeme, and isn't even finished yet. Normally I don't de-anon before I write to the end, but I haven't uploaded anything on here for so long, and pretty much dropped the "Ask Netherlands and Canada" idea for now (I eventually will continue that though). So I figured I might as well post the first chapter for now at least. This one falls under the category "stories that I will most likely finish", so it should be fine to post it now.
Matthew Williams, eighteen years of age, Canadian, was now officially having the time of his life. It was only a few months ago that he had left his parental house and jumped on a plane to Europe to travel. He had dreamed of this for several years already and saved up the money he had until he had enough for a plane ticket to Paris.
Paris had been a suggestion from his father. The Frenchman always told the boy wonderful stories about his birth country and Matthew wanted to see it for himself. His other father however, had not a good word to spare about France, like a typical Englishman. How his parents ever ended up together was beyond him. They could never agree on anything and bickered a lot. It was a miracle that Matthew had been able to get away.
Then again, Arthur Kirkland didn't even know about the journey he was planning. He had conveniently departed when he had just left on a business trip. The man would never have allowed it. He kept it secret for Francis as long as he could as well, though at some point he felt he did have to tell him. It would feel wrong to leave without giving them any indication about where he had ran off to.
Francis had been excited for him, and even helped him plan the rest of his trip and brought him to the airport. On the condition that he would call a lot, of course.
Paris had been amazing and succeeded all his expectations. He didn't stay in the same place for long though. He took on small jobs to earn some extra cash, saw as much as possible of wherever he was, and went on to the next place. He slept on cheap campsites and the occasional hotel.
After France came Belgium. When he entered Flanders, his French skills didn't help him as much anymore. A lot of people still spoke it, but as he neared the Netherlands they became less, and the street signs were more difficult to decipher, too. Luckily a lot of people also spoke English.
Once in the Netherlands, he headed for Amsterdam. That was about one and a half month ago. He hadn´t planned on staying this long, really. But right now he didn´t feel like leaving any time soon. The reason was amazingly simple, and not one he had counted on when he left home. He had fallen in love. Both with the city and one of its citizens.
He met Lars at a café on his first night in Amsterdam. They got along really well and quickly became close friends. Lars took him out into Amsterdam and showed him the places he otherwise would've never come across. Before he knew it, Matthew found himself falling for the tall Dutchman. By the end of that week they shared a bed together for the first time. Suddenly Matthew wasn't as eager anymore to see the rest of Europe. And Lars didn't really want to let him go either. So it was decided that Matthew would stay in Amsterdam for the remainder of his holiday.
The language barrier didn´t make it easy to find a more steady job, but Lars taught him some basic Dutch and eventually he found a job as a cleaner somewhere. There wasn´t much talking involved in a job like that. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills, so he wasn't complaining.
Lars himself was a college student, five years his senior. The age difference didn't matter one bit to them though. During the summer Lars had a job as a security officer at some company. The Dutchman didn't like uptight clothes that much, but Matthew couldn't say he didn't enjoy the sight of Lars in his uniform when they met up after work. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the sight even more when those clothes were coming off.
Lars buried his face in Matthew's neck, leaving a few kisses there. A smile spread across his lips. "You know that you are amazing, right?"
Matthew didn't answer. He just ran his hands through the other's hair and sighed happily. The two were lying on the bed of Matthew's hotel room, still basking in the afterglow of their previous activities. Their naked bodies were snuggles up close to each other and their hands never left the other's body. Lars caressed Matthew's face softly. They leaned in to share a sweet kiss.
"So, have you thought about it yet?" Lars wanted to know.
"Ditching this place and come crash at mine," Lars said. "You're only wasting money here while my place doesn't cost you anything."
"Oh, so you're not going to make me pay rent?" Matthew teased.
"Hmm, I might," Lars ran a hand gently over the other's chest. "Not in money though. I'll take your body instead."
"But... you live on a boat," Matthew giggled as he softly tickled his stomach. Lars owned a houseboat that laid in one of the canals of Amsterdam. The first time he had taken Matthew home he had laughed at the idea of living in something like that (and at the same time felt bad about laughing at someone's home). He had gotten used to it though, and it turned out it was actually pretty cosy.
"So?" The Dutchman said and gave him a suggestive look. "I already know you don't get seasick."
Matthew gave him a playful punch for that. "Okay."
"Okay?" A large grin appeared on his face. "You're saying yes?"
"Yeah," A small blush crept onto Matthew's face. "I mean, if you really don't mind."
Lars answered that by pressing a firm kiss to the other's lips.
Matthew wrapped his arms around Lars' neck. "So, should I pay the rent up front?"
"You are more than welcome to," Lars said.
They shared a passionate kiss and Lars' hands were already roaming his body when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. They broke apart and Matthew sighed. "Why do they always gets the wrong door," He mumbled. "I'm sorry, we didn't order anything!" He shouted at the door.
"This isn't bloody room service!" A man shouted back from the other side of the door.
Matthew grunted and started to look for his clothes. "One moment!"
Lars grumbled as he got out of the bed, "I'll handle this," He threw on some boxers and went to answer the door. He looked down at the man that had been ramming on their door. "Did the neighbours complain about the noise? Look, we'll try to keep it down, okay?"
He man looked at him as if he was insane. He had obviously neither expected the tall Dutchman to open the door, nor him to state something like that. When Lars wanted to close the door again, he blocked it with his foot. "Where's Matthew?" He demanded.
Matthew, who was elsewhere in the room halfway in pulling his shirt on, recognized the voice and suddenly felt like his heart had stopped dead in his chest. He sped towards the door and stared at the man in disbelief. "D-dad?"
Arthur took one look at the in boxers and shirt clad boy and an angry flush appeared on his face. "You disappear for months without even a goodbye, and this is what you've been doing?" He didn't raise his voice, but the tone with which he spoke made Matthew flinch. Then he looked up at the Dutchman. "You. Out."
Lars raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Arthur pushed past him and stepped into the room. Before he even knew what was happening, Lars was pushed out into the hallway and the door had slammed shut. Lars knocked on the door loudly. "Hey!" He opened it briefly again, only to shove his clothes into his hands. Then it slammed into his face.
"Dad! You can't do this!" Matthew protested.
"Yes I can!" Arthur said firmly. "Have you any idea how worried we were?"
"I called papa every two days! He would've known if something happened!"
"Him, yes! The incompetent bastard. Did you answer any of my calls?" He asked accusingly.
"No I didn't! Because if I did you would tell me to come straight home and you'd keep me there and I would never be able to actually do something with my life!" Matthew never really raised his voice. Though now was an exception. His father had caught him completely off guard and he was upset.
"Doing something with your life? You mean running away from home and coming here to shag some random guy? How old is he? He can't be your age!"
"Don't talk about him l-like that!" Sobs started to escape his throat. He was too upset to even bother trying to hold them back. "If I j-just wanted a shag I f-fucking would've stayed in C-Canada!"
"Watch your mouth, young man! And pack your bags. We're leaving tonight."
And that was the last of the argument that Lars heard. He had gotten dressed and was now sitting against the wall next to the door, waiting for them to come out. All he heard now were small sobs and mumbled words, and eventually they died out too.
When the door finally opened again he quickly stood up. Matthew, eyes red from crying and a large backpack on his back, made a move towards him, but was instantly pulled back by his father. "I'm sorry..." He said softly and followed after the Englishman.