INTERNET SPAZ!!!
Alright, attempt two. Here's a Maple Tea pirate fic that has been annoying me for ages cuz it started the pirate invasion... Now that it's done, if I see ONE MORE PIRATE...
Anyways, hope you enjoy!!
All characters (c) NOT ME
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It was a beautiful Wednesday morning at the house of Matthew Williams, and said Canadian nation had just awoken to the cliché sounds of birds chirping and his bear snoring. He yawned and stretched his arms, then pulled down on the old t-shirt he wore to bed and removed himself from the covers carefully, so as not to wake the polar bear that had been sleeping soundly next to him. Matthew pulled his slippers out from under the bed and stepped into them, then grabbed his glasses from the nearby nightstand and placed them on his face.
He yawned again. Then he rubbed his eyes and walked across the room to the attached bathroom. Taking his toothbrush and syrup-flavored toothpaste from one of the sink drawers, he began to brush his teeth until they were both bacteria-free and delicious tasting. After he put those away, he grabbed a hairbrush and started combing it through his golden hair. It tended to knot up while he was sleeping, so the task was a bit easier said than done. Matthew had almost finished when he heard a knock at the bedroom door.
Now, this probably would have shocked most people, but Matthew (being the naïve and trustworthy nation that he was) never locked his doors. His place was rather safe though, so it wasn’t any problem. However, it did allow for guests to invite themselves in, though most times, they would knock on the front door…in fact, Matthew could only think of one person who would simply let himself in and come to the bedroom first.
“Come in,” he shouted from the bathroom, finishing up with his hair and putting the brush away. He heard the door open and smiled softly. “Morning,” he said, walking out of the bathroom. “You’re not usually up this…early…” He stopped and blinked. Now, yes, he was expecting to see his boyfriend standing in front of him. What he did not expect was to see his boyfriend standing in front of him decked out in full pirate gear, eye patch and hat and everything.
“Morning, poppet,” said Arthur Kirkland, tipping his feathered hat down with a slight smirk. He sauntered over to the shocked Canadian and gave him a small peck on his cheek, still grinning. Matthew felt his face lose its color. Why in the name of all things syrup-covered was Arthur acting like a pirate?! Matthew was rather young during the times when Arthur actually was a pirate…and though the English nation usually calmed down by the time he came back to Matt and his twin, there had been a few occurrences where…well, let’s just say Arthur had a bit too much rum and had come home acting a little…scary…Those were the times that Matthew had hid under Alfred’s bed until Arthur had passed out. So it was fairly understandable that Matthew’s first reaction would be fear.
“Er, you alright, Arthur?” he asked, eyeing his pirate boyfriend warily.
Arthur laughed, quite arrogantly, if Matthew dared to say so. “Of course, pet!” he said, draping an arm over the Canadian’s shoulder. Matthew stiffened automatically as Arthur pulled his face closer. “Why? Do ye think something’s wrong?” He grinned again. Hm. No rum on his breath. Matthew thanked God profusely.
“Well, you’re, er…” Matthew struggled to find words with Arthur’s face mere centimeters from his own. “…acting, um, a little…off today, eh?” He laughed nervously and tried to step away, but Arthur pulled him back using the arm over his shoulder.
“Off, pet? That’s insulting,” he said, almost sneered. Then he grinned again. “Maybe I should punish ye, poppet…” he said, moving closer and wrapping his other arm around Matthew’s waist. If Matthew had any color left in his face, it was gone now.
“A-Arthur!” he said hoarsely, struggling to remove himself from the Englishman’s tight grasp. Arthur leaned even closer to him, still grinning almost terrifyingly; then, his grin suddenly turned much more innocent, and he gave Matthew a quick kiss, beaming.
“I wasn’t being serious, poppet!” he said with a laugh. “Ye look like ye’ve seen the Flying Dutchman or something!” He hugged Matthew tightly, then pulled away, keeping a hand gently resting on the Canadian’s shoulder. Matthew blinked.
“Eh?!”
“Come on,” said Arthur, ignoring the confused look on his boyfriend’s face, “we’ve got things to do today! There be treasure everywhere, Mattie! And I’ve decided that ye are going to help me find it!” He smiled wider, then scanned the Canadian over. “…But not dressed like that!” Arthur let out an indignant huff. “We can’t have ye sailing the sea in those rags! Hurry up and get yerself dressed, luv!” He laughed, kissed Matthew’s cheek again, then broke away and walked out into the hall. “I’ll be waiting, poppet!” he said, then slammed the door shut.
…Alright, what?!
Matthew took a minute to compose himself and allow the color to return to his face. He turned to Kumaroo (wait…that wasn’t right…), expecting the bear to tell him that he was seeing things and that he needed to go back to sleep. The only response he got was a snore. Sighing, Matthew decided to roll with it. Maybe Arthur would snap out of it before he attempted to rape him again. He seemed…chipper enough. More chipper than he’d be normally, which in itself was kinda scary, but chipper nonetheless. Matthew walked over to his drawers and grabbed a pair of jeans and a slightly nicer t-shirt with a moose on it, then changed quickly, shivered, and slipped on his Canadian flag sweatshirt as well. Finally, he pulled on socks and sneakers, took a deep breath, and exited the room.
Well, either he was awake or this was one long hallucination, because Arthur was still standing there, still dressed like a pirate. “About time!” he said, tapping his foot. “If ye were any longer, I’d have thought ye’d gone back to sleep!” Matthew opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Arthur grabbing his hand and almost pulling him down the stairs. “The treasure be waiting!” he exclaimed. Matthew tried his hardest to follow along and not fall headfirst, face bright red.
They reached the bottom in record time. Once there, Arthur stopped suddenly, causing Matthew to crash right into him. The Englishman took no notice. “Ye don’t seem to have anything seaworthy here, pet,” he said, looking around the downstairs.
“That’s cuz I’m not a friggin pirate,” Matthew mumbled. Arthur turned to him.
“What was that, poppet?” he asked, tilting his head slightly and causing the feathers in his hat to bounce a bit.
The Canadian blushed and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing!” he said innocently. Arthur looked at him for a few seconds more, then squeezed his hand and smiled.
“Well, we’re going to build something then! We can’t look for treasure without a ship!” he said happily. Matthew blinked. Build a ship? Like, a real pirate ship that actually sailed the seas or whatever? Before Matthew had a chance to complain, Arthur was off again and pulling him into his living room. He stopped, again causing Matthew to crash into his back. “That should do!” he said triumphantly, pointing to the chesterfield on the left side of the room.
…Arthur was delusional. That was really the only explanation.
“We’re going to use my chesterfield as a pirate ship?” Matthew asked, disbelieving. Arthur scoffed.
“Chesterfield? What kind of newfangled word be that?” he said, releasing Matthew’s hand to put both his own on his hips. “This be a beautiful ship! All she be missing be the sails, of course!” Matthew resisted the urge to smack his head against a wall. Quite delusional. “Ye stay there, poppet!” Arthur continued with a grin. “I’ll get us some sails!” With that, he gave Matthew a gentle shove onto the chesterfield and dashed out of the living room.
“D-don’t destroy my house!” Matthew cried, but Arthur was already long gone. He sighed and sank into the chesterfield a bit. What could be the explanation for Arthur’s sudden want to relive his pirate days and hunt for treasure in Matthew’s house? Maybe he was sick? Lack of sleep? Whatever the reason, Matthew hoped Arthur wasn’t going to relive his punk rock days next…
After about five minutes, Arthur came flying back into the room with a ladder, a gardening rake, and a sheet from Matthew’s closet. “Alright, pet, these should do,” he said with a triumphant grin. He motioned for Matthew to stand up, which he did with a sigh.
“And how exactly are we building a sail with that?” he asked, giving Arthur a skeptical look. The Englishman merely laughed.
“Patience, luv. Have a little faith in me!” He grinned again and then proceeded to wedge the ladder between the middle cushion and the back of the chesterfield. He straightened it until it stayed without his support, then took the rake and stuck it between two of the rungs so it rested there. After a few more alterations and such, he turned to wink at the Canadian before throwing the sheet over the rake dramatically.
It fell right off.
“Dammit,” Arthur mumbled under his breath. He picked up the sheet and flung it over the rake again with no less gusto. Again, it slipped off. Muttering curses, Arthur gave up the dramatics and began trying anything from every angle to get the sheet to stay. Each and every time, the sheet fell off, and each and every time, Arthur’s curses grew louder. Eventually, he gave a frustrated growl and simply threw the sheet at the ladder. It flew up into the air and landed on Arthur’s head. “DAMMIT!” he shouted from under the sheet.
Sighing, Matthew turned and walked through his foyer to the kitchen. He rummaged around in one of the drawers, ignoring the “Where ye be going, poppet?” from the living room, until he found a roll of duct tape. He exited the kitchen and made for the living room again, only to crash into Arthur halfway. Regaining his senses, Matthew handed the duct tape to the Englishman.
“Hold this,” he said, motioning for Arthur to follow him to the living room. Arthur trailed behind, holding the duct tape roll in front of his face and looking quite curious.
“What be this?” he asked, examining it from different angles. “Treasure?”
Matthew ignored him and picked up the sheet. He shook it out a little, then rolled up one of the edges to shorten its length. He held the sheet up to the rake, shook his head, rolled it up a little more, then put it back and nodded. “Tape, please,” he said, holding out a hand. Arthur blinked, then, with a look of realization, handed the duct tape to Matthew with a smile. Quickly, the Canadian taped the sheet to the rake; when the rake began to fall, he duct taped that to the ladder; when the ladder began to fall, he let out a sigh and duct taped the whole thing to his chesterfield. “Finished,” he muttered, handing the tape back to Arthur.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “She’s beautiful!” he exclaimed, jumping onto the chesterfield with a shout of glee. “What shall we name her?” he asked before pulling Matthew into the space next to him.
“I dunno, come up with something,” Matthew sighed. Arthur’s eyes narrowed, and he moved to sit cross-legged, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with the gloved hand that wasn’t holding the duct tape. Matthew waited. Arthur let out a small hmm, opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind and went back to thinking. Matthew checked the clock. Arthur narrowed his eyes more and tsked quietly, still lost in thought. Matthew yawned and closed his eyes.
“GOT IT!” Arthur shouted. Matthew jumped and almost fell off the chesterfield. He grabbed the Englishman’s arm for support, and Arthur pulled him back gently. Mumbling his thanks, Matthew moved his hand down Arthur’s arm to lay it on the hand holding the tape and looked to him.
“Er, you were saying?” he said quietly. Arthur gazed at him for a minute before snapping back to reality…er, whatever reality was for him.
“Ah, the ship! I think Nabooru fits her well, yes?” He grinned, as if he had just had a stroke of genius. Matthew thought the name sounded funny.
“Yes, lovely name,” he said, smiling. Whatever makes you happy. Arthur, content with that answer, smiled back. Then he raised the duct tape in front of his face, letting Matthew’s hand rest on his knee.
“Tell me, poppet, what be this then?” he asked, intrigued. “It has such…odd qualities. It sticks things together?”
Matthew sighed. “That’s what duct tape does, Arthur.”
“Duct tape?” Arthur tilted his head slightly, feathers bouncing gently again. “That be a type of treasure, luv?”
“It’s a common household item.” The Canadian rolled his eyes.
Arthur stared at him for a few seconds, then glanced to the duct tape, then back to him. “…I think it be treasure,” he said finally. “We’ll be putting this in our hoard then. Do ye have some kind of chest we can store it in?” Arthur didn’t wait for Matthew to answer, instead standing up and walking back towards the kitchen. Matthew didn’t bother to follow him, sinking back into the chesterfield and sighing again. It only took a minute or so for Arthur to return, large laundry basket in tow. “Here we are!” he said, placing the basket on the rightmost end of the chesterfield and dropping the duct tape inside with a clunk!
Matthew glanced between the basket and the pirate standing in front of him. “Alright,” he sighed, “we found the treasure. Now what?”
Arthur laughed and grabbed Matthew’s hand, pulling him onto his feet and causing him to shout in surprise. “We found a treasure, poppet!” the Englishman said. “The sea be full of treasures! And we…” He paused to kiss Matthew’s nose. “…will find them! Ready, pet?”
Matthew barely had time to mutter a “Maple!” before Arthur was dragging him off once more.
