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Matthew is sitting on the edge of the windowsill, clutching a battered green walkie talkie to his chest, when he realizes that he might have a problem.  

A five foot seven problem with a crooked smile and braces.

“Breaker 1-9.  Birdie, come in Birdie,” the walkie talkie rumbled to life and Matthew almost dropped it.  “Do you have your ears on, over.”

“I thought we agreed my handle was Eagle One, over.”

“Birdie is cuter, over.”

“You’re full of crap,” Matthew said, even as he flushed.  “Over.”

He could almost see Gilbert shrug on the other end.  He knew it would look casual, easy, and just a little bit cheeky.

“I’m still right.  Over.”

Matthew huffed and leaned further out the window but the street was empty.  

“You’re still full of crap.  And you’re late.  What’s your 20?  Over.”  

“I’m still on Springfield, over.”

“That’s three blocks away!”  Matthew readjusted himself.  “I’m going to get caught, over.”

“Then lower your voice, over.”

“I’m going to get in trouble,” he hissed.  “Over.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”  He could hear the crackles and pops of interference as Gilbert hurried.  “Start climbing down and I’ll be there to catch you.  I promise.  Over.”

“I don’t need you to catch me,” Matthew grumbled, tucking the walkie talkie in the front pocket of his oversized jacket and reaching for the tree branch outside his window.  

The truth was, he probably did need Gilbert to catch him.  His bedroom was on the second floor of his modest suburban home and the tree did not have any branches lower than eleven feet.  Even if he hung off the lowest branch before letting go, he would still fall five feet and twist his ankle.  Again.

He pulled himself into the tree and started climbing down anyway.

Matthew had more than one problem, really.  He had several and all of them had something to do with his best friend.  Gilbert made him reckless.  Gilbert made him do things he would never dream of doing on his own.  Like sneak out at midnight on a Thursday.  

Gilbert chipped away at his reservations and made his knees weak when he smiled.  He made him stutter and trip over his own feet.  He made him blush.

Matthew was a mess when Gilbert was around.

But Gilbert also made him laugh.  He made Matthew feel smarter and stronger than he actually was.  He made Matthew feel like he could do anything if he put his mind to it.  

Gilbert believed him when no one else would.  

He always believed in him too.

Matthew did not understand where his unwavering faith came from but it made his heart ache.  It made him want to be there for Gilbert.  No matter what.

Even if that meant climbing out of his window on a school night.  

Matthew focused on shuffling along the branch before lowering himself to the next one, and the next one.  It was hard work and the rough bark of the tree scraped the palms of his hands.  He was sure there were at least a dozen leaves tangled in his hair.  

He turned to look down when he heard Gilbert approaching.

“It’s about ti-”

The branch underneath him suddenly snapped with his shifting weight and he was falling, falling, and oh, shit, this was going to hurt so much and he was going to be grounded for a month if he did not end up in the hospital and…

Gilbert caught him around the legs with a quiet ‘Oof!’ and then he was falling again, forward this time, into his arms.

He landed on top of Gilbert.

“I, uh, are you okay?”  He whispered a little too loudly, leaning back and looking for injuries.

Gilbert blinked up at him for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face.  The moonlight glinted off his braces and, oh, Matthew knew he was still in trouble.  He had always thought braces were ugly and embarrassing until Gilbert came to class with a mouth full of metal last year.  

Now they made his stomach tighten uncomfortably.  

“I promised I’d catch you,” Gilbert hummed lazily.  “Over.”

Matthew glanced at the walkie talkie in the grass to his left.  Gilbert must have thrown it when he ran to catch him.  

“You’re so full of crap,” Matthew snorted before he could not stand it anymore and he ducked down to press his lips against Gilbert’s teeth.  His braces were warmer than he had imagined but, then, Gilbert was kissing him back and it was awkward and uncoordinated and a little bit perfect.  

He never wanted it to end but he eventually pulled back to study his best friend.  His ears were bright red and he looked a little dazed but he did not seem upset.

“I think I like you.  Like, ‘like like’ you,” he said.  Gilbert slipped his hand into his back pocket and squeezed.

“10-2.  I’m reading you loud and clear.  Over.”

Matthew knocked their foreheads together, a little too hard, before kissing him again.  

Oh! Yes! It should be a simple procedure unless there are complications. Diagnostic testing and ultrasounds are not the same as poking it with a scalpel. The doctors do not want to confirm what it is until it has been thoroughly poked!

Maplevogel will take good care of me and I’m sure she would let you know if I was horribly mangled.

I’m not dead!  (Yet.)  I’ve been focusing on my education but I am in good spirits for the most part.

I’m going in for surgery on the 25th but Maplevogel is going to come and look after me.  I have a mass in my abdomen (approximately the size of an apple) so they’re going to cut me open and pull it out.  It might be causing some of my health issues so I’m pretty excited to find out what it is.  

For my favourite person on her birthday. Happy birthday, Maplevogel!  You said you wanted a domestic piece so I hope this counts.  A little bit of sharing and caring and patience.  

Inspired by the song ‘Depth Over Distance’ by Ben Howard.

Depth Over Distance

The hinges on the door squeaked in warning as Canada pushed it open.  The house was stale and dim but he could hear the ‘click, click, click’ of an oscillating fan in the distance.

“Gilbert…?”

He slipped out of his shoes and dropped his suitcase on the worn hardwood.

“Gilbert?  I’m home.  Where are you?”

He squinted into the kitchen as he passed and sighed at the pile of cardboard boxes and garbage. The stove was blackened, the coffee pot was filled with noodles, and the sink was stacked with unwashed dishes.  

He knew what that meant.

Canada squared his shoulders and marched up the staircase with his heart in his throat. Kumajirou was sitting outside their bedroom door with his nose scrunched up in displeasure.  Canada tapped him on the head twice before pushing the door open.

The hinges seemed to screech even louder than before in the silence.

“Gilbert?  Are you in here?”

“No,” the bundle of blankets on their bed replied.  

“Are you sure?” Canada asked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.  Prussia had drawn the curtains but he could see piles of clothes and more unwashed dishes scattered around the room.

“No,” the blankets repeated.

Canada bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

“No, you’re not here?  Or no, you’re not sure?”

Prussia peeked out from under the covers and blinked at him.

“…  Both?”

Canada chuckled, he could not help himself, and reached out to smooth his tousled hair.

“Bad day, then?”

“Bad week,” Prussia pouted, but he leaned into his hand.  “I missed you.”

Canada hummed in understanding.  He had missed Prussia too.  But he knew that it was more than that.

“Are you going to get up?”

“…  I don’t want to get up today.”

Canada clucked his tongue and nudged Prussia until he scooched over.

“Then move,” Canada said.  “I want in.”

Prussia raised the corner of the blankets and Canada slithered underneath.  He wrapped his arms around Prussia and pressed wet kisses to his shoulder and collarbone.  

Prussia clutched the back of his suit jacket.

His hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” Canada mumbled against his skin.  “You should have told me.  I would have come home sooner.”

“I know.  That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Canada smiled even though he felt like crying.