Oh Maple! CanadaXReader

"Do you want to go to Canada with me?"

With confusion clearly stated in your (e/c) eyes, you stared at your best friend Matthew Williams. In all the years you'd known him –since he moved into your town during the fourth grade –he had never invited anyone to go with him to his home country –not even his stepbrother, the highly popular and dominating Alfred F. Jones. So, as is to be expected, you were frankly surprised. The two of you hadn't even been discussing travel when he popped this particular question –only watching Doctor Who on Netflix after an epic battle over the remote.

The battle, just so you know, was a rigorous two out of three thumb war –which, after deciding this was unfair due to the strength of his fingers –apparently hockey can make one's hands insanely strong –the two of you scratched all of his wins –much to Matthew's disappointment –and decided to play Rock Paper Scissors. Yet, after he won once more and grabbed the remote off of the desk which held the TV, you –unhappy as any very overly competitive sore loser would be –tackled him to the ground. A small fight ensued and the remote went flying across the room. The two of you paid little attention to this largely important detail as you wrestled until you sat on top of him –straddling his waist with your legs wrapped completely around him.

Due to your athletic prowess in the sports of soccer (football), basketball, volleyball, and cross country running, your legs were lethal powerhouses of doom and destruction. However, since, being the male, Matthew possessed more physical strength and used his tree-trunk arms of death –due to years of extreme hockey –to push you off then rolled on top of you. You then kicked him in the gut and made a short mad dash to where you thought the remote would be.

It wasn't there.

So, you sighed, and proceeded to rip up –theoretically- the entire living room until you found it, somehow wedged underneath the small two seat couch that occupied your front room. Matthew by this point had decided to just let you watch Doctor Who instead of a Canadian drama –thus bringing us to the present situation.

You remember the whole "Go with me to Canada!" thing.

"What brought this on?" you inquired, puzzling intonations in your voice.

Matthew fiddled with his hands and averted his eyes to your white carpeted floor. You turned Doctor Who on silent, not bothering to pause the show since both of you had seen the entire series at least ten times.

"W-Well, it's just that we've been best friends for a long time and I thought that I should introduce you to my birth mother."

Every summer, Matthew would go up and spend time in Canada with his real mom -a very queer woman who wasn't the kindest woman in the world. She met his father while stripping at a club, and the two hit it off right away –or well, his father loved her. She ended up having an affair on Matthew's dad, Mr. Williams, causing the two to divorce and her go back to being a prostitute. Since she didn't have the best mothering records, Matthew's dad got custody, moved to (country name) and ended up marrying his best friend, Ms. Jones –Alfred's mom who was an American. Alfred's birth father was a soldier in the Army –however he ended up killed in action, leaving them both widowed.

Not waiting for your response, seeing as how he was convinced it'd be negative, he continued, "I mean; it's ok if you don't want to. I can just go up there with Kumakira."

"Matthew," you began, "I would love to go with you to Canada. I don't even know why you think I wouldn't since I've repeatedly told you how jealous I was that you got to go," you paused then added, "Oh yeah, and by the way, it's Kumajirou."

"Right, Kumakichi," you shook your head at your best friend's inability to remember is favorite stuffed polar bear's name. Whether this was involuntary or a passive aggressive memory failure due to the melancholy fact that Kumajirou couldn't remember Matthew's name, you didn't know. Matthew continued, "So you want to come with me?"

You grinned widely at him, "Of course I want to!"

Matthew smiled happily back, "My mother gave me two tickets this year and said that she wanted me to bring a friend. I chose you above Alfred, Gilbert, Yong Soo, and Yao because I've known and been friends with you longer. Also, you're the only person I've ever wanted to show my homeland to."

Your face flushed slightly as a strange twisting feeling lit up in your stomach. For some odd reason, you were strangely giddy that he had chosen you above everyone else. You didn't understand why you felt that way, but you did know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you wanted to share this with Matthew; you wanted to be the only person that would ever go with him to Canada.

How terribly selfish, you thought, I can't believe I'd be that self-centered to want such a thing. It's not like I'm his girlfriend or anything –our relationship is completely platonic –at this, your stomach churned and bile rose in your throat from the overwhelming and strange disgust you felt –Well, that was weird…

You hid this and smiled broadly, "I'm glad that I can share this experience with you Matt. Come to think of it, I'd have been pretty damned pissed if you took anyone else with you. Anyone except Alfred that is since you guys are stepbrothers and all."

Your best friend blushed a little bit as you picked up the remote and turned the sound back to the initial volume and absorbed yourself into the British television show. He continued to watch you as you laughed over something the Doctor had said and sighed. You'd never like him in the same way, it made him sad to relish on the fact that you only thought it was platonic. The two of you were best friends; and as much as he loved you, that's all you'd ever be.

Because seriously, how many times had you friend-zoned him into oblivion?

A lot.

Yet, he could never stop loving you. He loved your laugh, smile humor, he loved your hair and eyes and the way you stood up for people that got picked on. He loved your intelligence and also –while you found this trait undesirable in yourself –he thoroughly enjoyed how much of a smartass you could be. He adored that you accepted his maple syrup fetish and that he talked to Kuma-whatsit as if he was a real bear.
Suddenly, you stood and stretched your arms over your head, making your spine pop slightly. Matthew felt his mouth run dry as he stared at your pushed out chest –unbeknownst to you.

Oh yeah, he also loved your boobs and curves. Never before had he appreciated those feminine features. Of course he noticed that they were there, but until he fell for you –the reason boys were gaga over them was way above his head. Even with a perverted freeloading cousin like Francis Bonnefoy –who just so happened to live at Matthew's current residence –he had never been a pervert. Until now.

"I'm going to make some popcorn. You want any?"

The Canadian nodded and smiled, "Sure, if it's not too much trouble."

"I'll get you your own since you like to douse it in maple syrup."

"Thanks!"

You just shrugged in response and headed into the connecting kitchen. Your small apartment consisted of one bedroom, a small closet, private bathroom, a living room, kitchen with an attached alcove that you used as a dining area, the living room, smack dab in the middle, held the door to leave the complex, as well as being the largest room in the miniaturized house. An archway separated it from the tiny but manageable kitchen, which, for your information, had another archway that led to your makeshift dining room.

You opened the pantry's door and quickly grabbed two bags of popcorn then stuck Matthew's in the microwave whilst you searched the small enclosure for two large bowls. You walked to the small cabinet beside your sink –which is where you kept those types of things –and opened the doors, squatting down to get a better view inside. After having an "AHA!" moment, when you located the things you were looking for, the timer went off. You grabbed out a bottle of maple syrup, poured the popcorn into a large blue bowl and commenced to shove your own popcorn into the teeny tiny microwave.

"Here you go," you said, holding both the food and the accompanying condiments to Matthew who received them gratefully.

"Thanks again," he said, "You always know how to make me feel good."

This caused a strange bubbling feeling to start up in the pit of your abdomen, as well as the usual butterflies that came with any comments Matthew gave you.

However, not knowing that this feeling was significant to the plot of the story, you ignored it and replied with a simple, "No problem," before going to stand in the archway with your back leaning against the wall so you could watch the TV and not be bored out of your wits waiting for your unhealthy snack to be ready. When it did, jumped slightly in excitement –much to Matthew's enjoyment for obvious reasons that were not so obvious to you –and quickly got your junk good and sat back down on the couch, snuggling into your best friend on an impulse. Matthew, while blushing at the contact, took this opportunity to lace his arm around your shoulders and hold you closer to him.

You wriggled into his warmth and went back to the Netflix menu before handing him the all-powerful remote of epic Gilbert-ness. You kindly said, "You choose what movie we watch."

He flipped through the options and weighed his choices, if he chose a horror, he might get the chance to have you in his lap since, unlike his brother, those kinds of things never scared him. If he chose a romance, would that give him a chance to kiss you? A comedy wouldn't help that much and an action/adventure wouldn't be too great for his ulterior motives to surface. So, with all this indecision in his mind, he decided to settle on a Mystery/Suspense.

TIMESKIP

The credits rolled.

Matthew inwardly seethed with frustration.

Why couldn't he make a freaking move?!