OneShot Matt x Mattie
It was a miserable looking Matthew that greeted the world that morning as the Canadian slowly raised his head from the pillow to peak at the silver of light from the ajar curtains before slamming his head back down and cocooning himself in the warm blankets.
"Matt?" He croaked, whimpering at the ache in his throat that even the smallest sound irritated and tried again, "Matt!"
The door was pushed open and Matt stuck his head into the dim room, toothbrush jammed into his mouth.
"'Eh?" He garbled, screwing up his face as he tried to pinpoint Matthew's location.
"I'm ill," Matthew groaned, voice breaking slightly at the end before he dived back under the blankets, body racked with coughs.
"Do you want pancakes then?" Matt asked, hovering in the doorframe and face creased with worry. Matthew nodded and then paused before sticking hand out of the warmth and giving Matt a thumbs up.
"Okay. I'll bring some up as soon as I can," the other Canadian said, carefully closing the door as silently as he could. Matthew sighed and curled into a ball before snagging Matt's discarded over shirt and snuggling into it.
"Okay. We need that and that and this and fuck where's the flour?" Matt hissed, trying to be as quiet as possible as he strode around the kitchen, locating the needed ingredients. Cupboards were left open in his wake as he plundered their contents and eventually emerged with everything he needed.
Disaster struck however as it was prone to doing when it came to measure out the elusive flour. A billowing white cloud escaped from the bag, whipping up into the air and hitting Matt in the face, covering him in a fine white powder.
Damn it!" He snarled, frantically rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair but only succeeded in spreading the whiteness further.
A quiet giggle from the corner caught his attention and he whipped around, causing another cloud to billow upwards and saw Matthew, propping himself up on the door frame with his duvet wrapped around him like a cloak.
"You sounded like you were having trouble," he croaked, gaze dancing over Matt's bare chest before lingering on his now white hair.
"I'm fine. Go back to bed," Matt shot back, beginning to mix the dry ingredients together, taking extra care to keep them in the bowl. Instead Matthew pulled a chair out and plopped down onto it, propping his head up on his elbow to watch Matt intently.
"My gorgeous boyfriend is cooking me pancakes in nothing but a pair of boxers. I'm not missing this for the world."
Matt bit back a bark of laughter and shook his head, returning to his task at hand and trying in vain to ignore the burning gaze of Matthew upon him.
