Mattie does laundry every Sunday.

There is something oddly comforting about this very commonplace routine; something peaceful in the weekly act of folding freshly cleaned clothes and tucking them away snugly into his drawers for another day. Alfred teases that he would make a good housewife, because even when they were little, Mattie was the one trailing after Francis and helping with domestic duties and homely tasks. For his efforts, Francis rewards him with an affectionate brush of his hand against the younger's cheek, or if he is lucky, a French pastry straight from the oven. Mattie is naturally fastidious, and he takes pleasure in the small things: new curtains, a clean tablecloth, or fresh flowers in the vase by the window. It makes him happy to know that he's making his home beautiful for other people, though that's not to say he enjoys cleaning up after Alfred. (No one in their right mind enjoys cleaning up after Alfred.) Perhaps he picked up this habit from Francis, who takes such delight in beautifying the minor joys of life.

The summer breeze brings the sweet scent of laburnum through the open window, and Mattie sighs in contentment, neatly folding his Canucks jersey into place. Alfred, seated opposite him at the kitchen table, was not quite so content.

"I'm bored!" he complains, fixing Mattie with an imploring, pitiful expression.

Mattie sighs, but there is a small half smile on his face as he reaches into the clean laundry basket and tosses a towel to his wayward older brother. "You're always bored. Go on, make yourself useful and do some laundry."

"Laundry is boring!" Alfred retorts, sulking. "Besides, we did laundry last week!"

Unobservant strangers always underestimate the relationship between Mattie and Alfred. They were brothers, but obviously nothing alike – apart from a strong resemblance in appearance. Mattie is shy, sweet-tempered, and a good listener; Alfred is exuberant, bursting with confidence, and the things said to him often go in one ear and out the other. They don't have much in common by way of interests – "What do you mean, hockey? Football owns hockey!" and there is no real reason why they should get along with each other; they just do.

Mattie rolls his eyes at Alfred's indignant exclamation. "You're supposed to do laundry every week, Al," he says patiently, shaking his head as he reaches into the laundry basket and pulls out Alfred's favorite shirt. It is the color of his eyes and is faded from too much washing, but it is a present from Mattie and Alfred adores it because of that.

"What! That's not true," Alfred protests, throwing the towel back at his brother. "You're supposed to do laundry only when you needto do laundry. Not everyone is obsessive like you and needs to wash everything once a week."

Mattie wrinkles his nose. He's seen the state of things in Alfred's house, and whether it was a beach-front property in California or a cabin in Oregon, Alfred's habitations are inevitably swamped with dirty laundry. Case in point, the shirt he was currently wearing. "Weren't you wearing that shirt yesterday? And the day before that?"

Alfred chuckles sleepily, dozing away while Mattie continues to organize the laundry, separating socks from shirts from boxers. It's easy to tell apart Mattie's clothes from Alfred's – Mattie picked up Francis' fashion sense growing up, while Alfred was left to his own devices, especially after his rebellion. "Remember when we were younger?" Alfred prompts, reminiscing.

"How can I forget?" Mattie answers primly, artfully draping a sock across Alfred's head to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. "You drove Arthur crazy, and when I visited with Francis you drove him crazy, too. Come to think of it, you've never played a prank on me before. Why is that?"

"Because you're my little bro'," Alfred replies matter-of-factly, tossing the sock off for dignity's sake. "I had to look after you, didn't I? Remember when you lost your bear?"

Mattie's brow furrows as he remembers. "Oh yeah; I cried all day, and then he came home after dark."

"He didn't come home; I found him," Alfred snorts, stifling a yawn. "I had to trek through that stupid forest for three hours, and then a squirrel chased me into a bramble bush and then I fell into the lake."

Mattie's eyes widen. "You found him?"

"Of course – I'm the hero, right?" Alfred replies, grinning as he props his chin up on his arms. "I'm your brother and I love you, okay?"

Bashful, Mattie looks about for something to distract Alfred with – and distracting Alfred is never a difficult job. He tosses a towel at him, and he deftly catches it before it can hit his face. "Fold that for me, will you?"

"I'll take that as an 'I love you too.'"

"…Okay."

The rest of the afternoon is divided between idleness and housework, but Mattie does not mind. When the chores are complete at last, Mattie surveys the result with a faint sense of pride and resigns himself to the fact that by this time next week, his house will be a complete train wreck of messy clothes, empty pizza boxes, and missing socks, thanks to his brother's company, and he wouldn't ask it to be any other way.

Author's Notes:

I honestly have no idea what Alfred was up to last night to be so peaceful and snoozy in this fic /orz' I wanted to write something sweet and fluffy, so that required Alfred to not be bouncing off the walls high on maple syrup |D This is a gift for a friend whose prompt was for "any two nations doing laundry together". Not much laundry got done after all…but I hope you enjoyed anyways!