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acemapleeh · 2 years

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Bridge Over Anxious Coffee Cups

May 25th: Living Together/ Domestic

Summary: The morning is early and already, Matthew's thoughts and heart are far too loud. The morning fog rolls gently over the canal waters.

Written for Day 3 of @nedcanweek, May 25th: Living Together/ Domestic

Characters: Netherlands, Canada

Word Count: 2580

Read on ao3

Warnings: Sexual Content, Self-Hate

September of 1980, Appingedam, Netherlands

Johan liked sticking to a routine, planned things in advance and kept his word on being exactly where he said he would be on any given day. His body naturally rose around the same time each morning; it never mattered if it was for work or if he was on holiday or what hour he stayed up to the night before. It was always around the time the first bit of sunlight would trickle patterns in through the lace curtains that he would begin to stir. It was harder to rise when Matthew was there, but he would somehow ease his way out of his embrace; promises were kissed on Matt’s shoulders and stubbly cheeks only for them to be met with a grumble and slight shift of the mattress.

Matthew’s mornings were slow and lazy, wrapped in soft linen and hoping for warm limbs for hours on end. He was never an early riser and if he managed to get up at a decent hour, he would never be up for long. The kisses would always pull at his heart but they weren’t always strong enough to rouse him from bed. He hated how early Jan got up, even with the knowledge he would come back if Matt hadn’t moved for a set amount of time.

Still.

When Matthew was finally done hiding his face in Jan’s still warm pillow and complaining about the lack of warmth to nobody, he’d pull himself up from the bed with rumpled sheets wrapped around himself and shuffle his way to the kitchen.

A hot cup of coffee in his favorite overseas mug always waited for him.

Perfectly sweet.

Perfectly capable of clearing the fog of his sleep-hazed mind.

That wasn’t the case every day.

Some mornings, Matthew wouldn’t let Jan go, tangling himself as much as possible so neither would have the processing power to get themselves up and away. Jan would be persuaded with licks on his exposed clavicle and tender circles rubbed into his chest. How quickly he was reduced to trembling and caving into the suggestions whispered in his ear. Further away he melted at the kisses on his throat.

There were also times when Matt would be the first to rise. He would blink sleepily as his mind tried to figure out where he was, and slowly, he would realize just how entangled he was in Jan’s arms. He held him for dear life; it felt like if he let go, Jan would disappear like he was nothing but a dream. He clung to him, heart trembling, despite the solid foundations they had worked so hard to build together.

He had tried getting better.

To try to correct his spiraling thoughts.

'How could he be possibly okay with a such useless, fucking sack of emotional distress like me?'

Matthew would go sunless months feeling devoid of anything, hiding away somewhere in the deep forests and tundra of home in hopes that something out there would bring him solace. The first time he’d done it since he started dating Jan, he came home to an answering machine full of messages asking where he had been.

Johan flew out to Ottawa the day after Matthew called him back and Jan clung to him the same way Matthew clung to him now.

Matt had never felt so cold in his entire life.

On those endless nights, where he felt his thoughts consume him, he would trace fingertips along Jan’s bare chest; he would move slowly, waiting for the lace to trickle in its morning call. He had to assure himself Jan was real and tangible. Fingers danced along his toned stomach and the dips of his hips to where only the thin sheet hid any more secrets.

A whispered reveal.

Further along, they moved to the base of his shaft and combed mindlessly over the wiry hairs surrounding it. It was only another moment before Jan stirred with a slight groan.

He wondered vaguely if the man thought he was dreaming as well.

“Lieverd...” Jan finally moaned in that voice he wished was meant for his ears alone.

“Godverdomme,” he breathed, hips beginning to rut into the circle of Matthew’s fist.

“Mattijs...”

It was the most beautiful sound Matthew had ever heard.

He moved to lay beside him and adjusted his grip to wrap his hand around both of their leaking members. The strokes were unhurried, even as Matt’s breath turned into impatient whimpers. Jan’s hand soon joined and it felt like every one of his nerves were awake and in need. He buried his face in the other’s shoulder and Johan smelled like yesterday’s blissful, after-sex shower. His free hand gripped his back, nails digging and afraid everything would float away if he dared let go.

Matthew cried out softly as he found the sweetness of release.

His heart wouldn’t stop beating.

Thumping, thumping, thumping.

His stomach felt like a fish was flopping inside- afraid of its death as it gasped desperately inside the confines of the net.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Body alert, prepared to find the oncoming attack. There were no weapons. There was no way to defend himself.

Beating and beating; the pulse in his ears simply wouldn’t stop.

Matthew laid on his stomach, head spinning and dazed. Jan’s body was warm beneath his and a gentle hand rubbed along the ridges of his spine, tenderly attending to the knot in his shoulder he felt he could never truly be rid of.

It made his stomach twist.

A kiss.

An apology.

A question.

An apology for an apology.

Lingering silence.

The room was grey and even with the curtains drawn back, little light came in.

Here was daylight, covered up with pouring rain, not that it was unusual this time of year.

Matt slowly reached for the nightstand for his glasses, peeling away from the sanctuary of affirmation to try and locate one of his discarded shirts. He roused himself with a back-popping stretch and cringed as his shoulder tingled.

Some unnamable, emotional feeling continued to burrow into his chest, making his heart lurch as his arms pulled through the sweater.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Matthew, it’s fine. Just take a minute to calm down and you’ll be alright.”

“No, you don’t know that. You’re going to ask how late I stayed up last night, how much sleep I got if I want coffee, and if I want to talk about it.” He was attempting to pull his sweats on, wanting nothing more than to leave and not wanting to look at his long, crooked legs a second longer. “I don’t want to talk about it because there’s nothing to talk about it. I’m fine. You don’t need to tell me I’m fine.”

He cursed as he checked his hip on the bedpost in his rush to leave the room.

The stairs leading to the kitchen felt too large, and Matthew had to think a little too much about each step to avoid tripping and falling.

Maybe he’d feel better if he laid a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

The window overlooking the Damsterdiep Canal held too many scenes of a time long ago. Running a now washed hand slowly over the wood he shaped himself, lost in a time away, he didn’t hear Jan come downstairs to start boiling water. He watched a couple in their kayaks float along the water, the low clouds seeming to part at each stroke of their paddles as they made their way through the mist.

Another pair was seated on their patio across the way, sipping coffee and chatting about intimate, morning thoughts when the backdoor creaked open. They turned to see the face of a small child who looked just tall enough to reach the doorknob. She was crying, even Matt could tell from here. The father quickly set his cup down to pick her up, giving his wife a reassuring look for her to stay as he went back inside.

Not much had changed since Matt helped Jan rebuild this home after the war other than how much older that once small boy had grown.

And here he was again, to help bring this star city back to shining its brilliant light.

A steaming mug was set in front of him that he accepted quietly.

“You’re different from the last time you were here.”

Jan’s own kayak was tied up at the makeshift dock attached to the bottom floor, resting in the shadow of the hanging kitchen. Matt could just go down the stairs and make his way out into the fog.

Never to be seen again.

He sipped his coffee and the thought slowly dissipated like the sun was starting to peak through the clouds.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” Jan tried to clear up after the extensive silence. “Believe it or not, you look better.”

Matt almost snorted into his coffee, it mostly turning into an exasperated huff.

“My hair is touching my shoulders and I just panicked after having an orgasm. Tell me how that’s better than the me just after the war trying to remember how to function as a person.”

“You still came here to work and spend time with me. We both know what you’re more tempted to do when you get like this.”

At that, Matt bit his lip before silently taking another sip. He didn’t want to admit how much the idea still gnawed at his mind. Matthew had hidden this part of himself from Jan as long as he was able to, blaming tiredness or bad weather on days where his self-deprecation clung like spider webs to his every thought. But silently, he pressed himself a little closer to Johan which was met with a kiss on the side of his head.

“Is it just because I’m young?” Matthew finally asked, chewing the inside of his cheek between the spaces of his words. “That calling to be lost?”

He could feel Jan shake his head. “I think we, as nations, experience it when we need to experience it. Even to this day, I’ll find my feet taking me to my coasts or endless fields. But my youth had me behind the wheel of a ship with only the desire to keep on sailing. I lost myself to the sea the same way you lose yourself to the trees.”

Matthew could envision it clearly before him, the rough callouses of Jan’s hands forever the telltale sign that he was a man of the sea. He’d seen those same hands that ran smoothly through his hair at work, completely mesmerized by the way Johan would tie off knots and the muscles of his arms tugged at ropes. How strongly he desired to show he was just as capable at sailing from everything his father had taught him.

The waves hadn’t been the only thing to rock Matt’s personal sloop out on Lake Superior several summers ago.

“I think I recall one of the first times you came to me,” Matthew said, leaving the warmth of the cup to rest on his chin. “You came to Newfoundland to fish for cod. All I really remember is feeling like something was in my shores, something I had never felt before. I don’t even think I ever even saw you, just the ship.”

Matthew always loved the low sound of Jan’s hum.

“Ah, yes. That was in 1620... I think I still have my journal from that voyage and detailed accounts of your coastline and the flora and fauna I observed during my short summer there.”

There was the slightest flutter of his heart at the idea of Johan finding his land beautiful even all those centuries ago, almost in the same way he had admired the man himself as a young ward to Lord Kirkland at an extravagant party nearly a hundred years ago.

To Johan, he was a nameless face and another asset to his father’s empire.

To Matthew, he was an endless daydream that took him far away from his studies for hours on end.

To be remembered and recalled, even upon first impressions being so plain and notwithstanding that the ballroom was packed with dozens of more attractive bedmates and beautiful faces.

Here they were together, watching the sun fighting tirelessly to break through the morning gloom.

“It’s strange being back here,” Matthew spoke up after taking another sip of his now lukewarm drink. "I feel like I should be listening for artillery and explosions.”

Another of Jan’s chest-deep hums that Matthew could feel travel up his own spine.

“It’s been thirty-five years since the war and eight years since we acquired the status of a conservation area here, but, you're here again to help rebuild all the same.”

"I think you just secretly love me for my craftsmanship. It's one of the only reasons father invites me over anyway. At the rate I'm going, I would rebuild his entire estate twice over."

"And my home thrice over."

Matthew shrugged, getting increasingly upset at how cold his drink was becoming but tolerated every sip of what Jan had prepared for him. "Proves my point," he all but muttered.

His head was turned gently, fine fingers taking his chin to turn and face the man that made his heart lurch so tenderly. "You know I love you for more than just how good you can upholster a chair or retile a roof right?"

He wanted to roll his eyes and just go back to leaning quietly against him, facing the window and not having to look at his stupidly handsome face.

"You're right, it's also because I know how to raise a barn and fix garden trellises."

"Why are you such a wijsneus first thing in the morning?"

"Because it's too early to even consider being awake and I haven't even finished one cup of hot coffee."

Silence rested between them and Matthew could hear the house creak when the wind blew in a little too harshly. He would have to find those points of weakness and replace what he could.

"You know," Jan said, running a hand up and down Matt's arm. "The hardware store doesn't open for a few hours. We can go back to bed if you're still tired."

"You wouldn't sleep though," Matthew argued. "You couldn't fall back asleep even if you wanted to."

"Then I'll sit up with you. I'm sure I have some paperwork I can go through or a book to read."

Matt muttered something under his breath and finished what remained of his cup. He rinsed his dish tepidly before taking hold of Jan's hand. He practically dragged him up the stairs and back to the bedroom, sighing in almost delight at the site of the bed being made and any stray clothes had been put away.

Forever reliable and dependable.

Matthew was back under the covers, the scent of yesterday's bliss still lingering on the sheets a clear image to his closed eyes.

Jan's breath was steady as he settled in next to him, sat up, and carefully thumbed through papers that had been waiting to be attended to.

Back into a routine of well-founded love, Matthew sighed and tried counting the times he felt Johan's hand run through his hair.

He only got to seven before the morning fog changed into an afternoon haze.

#hws canada #hws netherlands #hetalia #ace writes #nedcanweek2022 #nedcan #yeah i don't know either #i'll write something nicer for them someday #where the feature of matthew self loathing isn't the primary focus #how late am i on this again?

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