Author: eveliens/eeevee
Genre : humor/ romance (?)
Characters: America, Canada, Russia; one-sided RussiaxAmerica, CanadaxRussia
Rating: T for language and implied sexual situations
Warnings: snarky!Canada, human names, college AU
Summary: Matthew had thought this over a million times, now he just had to voice his idea. He cleared his throat and whispered, “Hey, you want my twin brother, I like you; I think we can work something out here.”
A/N: This started as a one-shot, so there's no telling where it will end (I pray not 300 pages later...) and it had a pretty simple plot... get in Russia's pants. Side pairings have been gleefully decided and take affect eventually... If any of this secretly (or not so secretly) delights you, read on...
Part One
Matthew wasn’t even sure why he was here. He really, really hated parties after all. There were drunks and tmi all over the place and disturbing spills on the carpet that he was quite sure wasn’t all booze… and nobody ever asked him to dance or remembered who he was.
Plus, he had a very important biology test tomorrow.
Beside him Ivan was craning his neck and watching the proceedings with wide-eyed intensity.
Oh right, he was Ivan’s “escort” per Alfred’s request. All week it had been ‘I’d totally take him Mattie but I’ve gotta help set up! You can help him out, right?’
“Matvey, why are…” Matthew looked over in complete horror as two rather unattractive women were (and he supposed this was attempting to be seductive…) stripping off their clothing. Matthew winced at the inadequate support, slightly nauseated by the jiggling. He grabbed Ivan’s arm, and would’ve covered his eyes if he could reach that high without jumping, dragging him towards the backyard. It was twinkies to donuts that Alfred would be by the pool. He was just that stupid sometimes.
And since Alfred was just that predictable, Matthew was right. They found him milling around on the back porch. On the roof. His blue eyes were fogged over and he had a dopey grin on his face. He was intently trying to gauge the distance between the roof and the pool.
“Just do it.” Matthew muttered under his breath. If only their parents knew half of what their little star athlete did in his spare time. A broken arm might teach him a lesson about being a drunk daredevil. Probably not. It would probably just land him in a hospital with more flowers, candy, fruit and cards than paparazzi at Michael Jackson’s funeral.
“Alfred!”
Alfred peered down blearily, almost losing his balance on the tiles before zeroing in on Ivan, who had a hand up. His grin spread even wider if that was possible and he waved back energetically, promptly smacking himself in the nose. Ivan giggled and Matthew sighed.
Okay, so being dumb and drunk was cute?
“Ivan!” Alfred tried to weave towards the edge but cautiously slowed down, looking cross-eyed at the holly bushes below. Before either of them could say anything more he whooped and jumped straight down.
Matthew went into crisis mode. Which, with Alfred, meant he started laughing so hard he couldn’t stand up straight. Oh, and completely panicked, which explained the hysterical laughter. At least that’s what the shrink had said to his parents. Normal people reacted to panic with a variety of reactions; Matthew burst out laughing as the blood poured out and his brother screamed on the ground. It was a very unflattering habit, he had to admit, but he only did it around Alfred.
Fortunately for his brother Ivan had good reflexes. The large Russian leaned over the bushes and deftly caught the plunging drunk by the back of his jacket. Unfortunately, and due to a hefty amount of karma involving Alfred and the French neighbor’s destroyed rose garden, Matthew was sure, his jacket ripped. The resounding screams stopped all nearby activity. It didn’t help that Alfred’s baggy jeans and boxers hooked on a branch and went down to his ankles, ensuring that the back of his legs and butt were full of prickles.
“But I wanted children!” Alfred howled as Ivan carefully fished him out. Matthew was now rolling on the ground, barely missing the puddles of not-water. Alfred was apparently not drunk enough to drowning in a lack of lucid thought that accompanied drunkness. And that meant he realized just how humiliating his situation was, never mind that his ass looked like a porcupine had tried to hump him the wrong way. “God, my nuts.”
Ivan took the opportunity to get an eyeful (and Matthew had to admit was a nice view, if Alfred wasn’t so aggravating… oh, and his brother, gross) of Alfred’s junk.
“Perhaps we should see if they are still in working order, da? They do not appear to be broken; however, appearances can be deceiving.”
And Matthew decided this needed to stop right there. He didn’t really want to see Ivan diddling his drunk brother in the middle of Arthur’s backyard. After all, if Ivan was going to be doing that to anyone, it better be him. Oh God, did he just think that? A mortified blush coated his entire face and he gathered himself up off the ground.
“I think he might need some medical treatment, eh? He wouldn’t want an infection down there…” Matthew said, trying to tug his brother’s pants back up. All he succeeded in doing was making Alfred scream louder as the fabric caught on the welts. He didn’t add that Alfred didn’t need that kind of infection anyway; he was sure that his brother had run into a few other kinds because he slept through sex ed. “Can you pick him up Ivan?” Matthew added in his head (if not, you can just drag him; a few more hits to the head won’t hurt him in this state) “And follow me. I think Arthur has a first aid kit in his bathroom.” Matthew said (and failing that it wouldn’t hurt to slip Alfred some tranquilizers—he sounded like someone was trying to neuter him with a rusty knife).
Somehow Ivan managed to scoop the thrashing football star up and stagger after Matthew. He tried to pick the most direct route to the upstairs bathroom but after tripping over Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis engaged in a scary game of, well, something that involved few clothing, beer bottles and oh god that shouldn’t have gone there, and then interrupting the Asians having a face off on Guitar Hero shouting ‘Move out of the way, aru!’ And ‘Muse was invented in Korea!’, he took the back way.
Which unfortunately involved going through Arthur’s parents’ bedroom. Matthew considered it to be a terrible idea to live on ones parents’ house while in college, let alone throw a kegger in it, but as he pulled Ivan and his brother along into the most disturbing thing yet he almost cried for them. It was best they were on vacation in London.
His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out. He stopped in the doorway, drawn into the horror of the situation, and blocking Ivan. The big Russian peered over him (and Alfred kicked him, the jerk) and giggled.
Arthur, who was more than a little sloshed, had a unicorn in one hand and a Barbie in the other. He was making the two dolls dance around and sing, caterwauling about leprechauns and yetis or something like that. Yetis were a little more manly that what he actually slurred, which, Matthew interpreted as faeries. The Barbie did a fantastic leap and landed on the unicorn’s head.
“And thash—thash what we should doooooooooooo.” Arthur informed Kiku who was quietly watching him on his right. “Ano, forgive me Arthur, but I do not understand.”
Matthew almost puked (okay, did puke, but only a little, in his mouth). Ivan tittered and whispered something in Russian. Alfred made loud gagging noises, informing the two that they had uninvited company.
“Dude,” Alfred complained, “That’s so gay.” And Matthew wryly noted he said this as he hung half-naked from another man’s arms bridal style. “Nobody plays with My Little Pony anymore! That was like, when I was five!” Trust Alfred to miss the point—no pun intended.
Matthew was sure that Arthur hurt the hearing of every dog within a three block radius with his harpy shriek.
“Whatever. You got any codeine?”
“Alfred!” Matthew scolded. It was one thing to slip his brother too much Benadryl (age six, drink this grape soda!) but it was another to let him down prescription drugs after however many beers he had. He turned to Arthur, who he was drooping, “We need some cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide.”
Arthur blinked at him sluggishly before passing out on the floor. Kiku looked curiously at Alfred who supplied ‘I fell out of a tree saving a kitten’ and then glanced at Ivan. His face turned into a tight, polite smile, one Matthew recognized as a oh fuck, this is uncomfortable, but be strong, be polite, don’t dishonor my ancestors smile. It also got a bit icy. It took Matthew a second to realize that Kiku and Ivan had an altercation the day before when the Russian cornered the smaller boy in the locker room. Alfred stopped it before it got too out of hand after admirably commenting both on Kiku’s knife work and that Ivan had ripped the faucet from the boy’s bathroom rather than the fact the two of them were engaged in mortal combat.
“Excuse me.” Kiku stood up and bowed before moving to the side. He stared from beneath his bangs as Matthew tugged Ivan into the bathroom. His baleful gaze didn’t disappear until Matthew slammed the door shut and locked it.
Ivan not-so-carefully set Alfred down on the tile. The hungry lion look was back in full force and Matthew sighed about his oblivious brother, who was trying to drink water from the toilet. He whined about being thirsty when Matthew pulled him back.
“We remove his pants?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Ivan yanked them the rest of the way off without flourish and Alfred gasped at the air conditioner blowing across his body. Ivan gave the welted skin before him a curious poke, then a harder one. Alfred squealed and squirmed. Ivan’s pokes moved up his legs making his squeal louder. Then he went really still and quiet.
“I think he passed out.” Matthew remarked, having found the first aid kit. He pulled out the cotton balls from under the sink. He started working on the cuts while swatting Ivan’s hands when they wandered too far north a few times.
“That is a very beautiful tune, da? Do you sing?”
“Oh, what?” Matthew started, suddenly aware how close Ivan was behind him. He paused to savor the closeness and the hot breath puffing on his neck lightly.
“You were humming.”
Was he? Nooooooo, not again. That was how he got his girly nickname from Gilbert! He thought he had viciously curbed that habit. How embarrassing. He stared harder at his brother’s naked ass (EWW) and dabbed harshly.
He gulped away most of his embarrassment, dearly wishing he had snagged a beer on his way up, and replied, “I do that when I’m concentrating. It’s a bad habit.”
Ivan just made a thoughtful noise and then giggled, “But it is very cute, da? I like it! Does your brother sing?”
Like a cat in heat, Matthew thought, remembering how they used to sing karaoke. His brother always chose songs that were above his range making him sound like a rat that sucked up some helium. Although he also remembered that Alfred sung beautifully when they were younger… with Barney. That brought a rueful smile to his face at how they would run around making forts out of couch cushions in their pjs.
“Uh, he can.” Matthew responded, unwilling to incriminate his brother, even if it would make him look bad.
“You are very cute, Matvey.” Ivan giggled, “You must love your brother very much.”
And suddenly Matthew was wondering who was watching who. Because Ivan certainly knew more about him than he had let on. Steadily ignoring the chill that sent down his spine (because my God, that was hot, Ivan being his stalker instead of the other way around), he shook his head, “Well, I think I’m done. What do you say to leaving him on the bed to recover while we go get some drinks? I mean, it’s a party after all.”
“I believe that you and Alfred should go home, da? This evening has been quite, how do you say it, educational for me.”
Oh how badly Matthew wanted to continue that education right now. Just grab that scarf and pull the Russian down over his brother’s unconscious body.
Instead he nodded, “Good idea.”
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