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zo_oneArthur sighed into the fabric of Alfred’s shirt, nuzzling his cheek against the American’s chest as he turned his eyes back to the telly. His mother, as he had expected, was less than agreeable with his choice and had spilled lists upon lists of reasons as to why he should not go over the hour long phone conversation. Alfred had sat next to him, gently rubbing his back and arms, placing kisses on the tips of his fingers to try and relax him as he argued with his mother.
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Alfred asked, turning his head so he could see Arthur from his position on the couch.
Arthur only sighed again, a few choice phrases his mother had said running rampant in his mind. “What if she’s right?” Arthur asked. “What if I shouldn’t go? What if it ruins everything, or, or something happens and we’ll never be able to fix it?”
Alfred laced his fingers between Arthur’s, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position. “I don’t wanna be the bearer of bad news or nothin’, but she could be right.” Alfred smiled, wide and sincere, as Arthur’s brows furrowed in distress. “But she could also be wrong. And I’d be pretty heartbroken if ya changed your mind.”
“And… and if I did, Alfred? What if I did change my mind? Would… would you…”
The American silenced Arthur by touching a finger to the blond’s lips. “Whatever you decide, I’ll still love you and want to be with you, Arthur. Nothin’s ever gunna change that.” He kissed the palm of Arthur’s hand. “I hate ta say it, but you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
Arthur chuckled, sitting up on his elbows and kissing Alfred sweetly. “I happen to like it,” he murmured, kissing Alfred lazily, over and over. “A lot more than is healthy, I’m afraid.”
------
This time around they stayed on the bus for the duration of the trip, staring out the windows in a nervous silence. Alfred held Arthur’s hand the entire way, their fingers rubbing together with gentle coaxing movements and reassurances.
“It’ll be just fine,” Alfred whispered every time Arthur squeezed his hand nervously. “I’ll be right there with you, it’ll be okay, I promise.”
The bus stopped at a small, out of the way stop next to a grassy park with dew covered playground equipment.
“It’s just down the way here,” Arthur mumbled, grasping the crook of Alfred’s arm as they walked, occasionally nuzzling his cheek against the American’s shoulder.
“Did you play here a lot when you were a kid?” Alfred decided to ask, hoping to break the nerves that had encompassed his lover.
Arthur flushed lightly, his green eyes casting over towards the ill-used playground as his grip tightened on Alfred’s elbow. “Not often. Connor and Chloe came here the most, I believe. I… I enjoyed the plot of forest behind the house… Ah… I’ll show it to you some time.”
“I’d love to see it,” Alfred said. And it was true, because he wanted to know what Arthur had loved to do when he was younger – the things that Arthur had never told him in his letters. He was excited by the idea that Arthur wanted to show him something he cherished. That’s what couples did, what people in love did.
As they approached a new block, Arthur pointed out a two-story home with an orange ceramic shingled roof and windowsill gardens with flowers attempting to bloom in the foggy March weather. It was white and a bit plain, just as its neighboring houses. “That’s the house I grew up in,” Arthur muttered, glumly. “It’s nothing special. Certainly nothing like your ranch… but…”
Alfred only smiled, nudging at Arthur with his shoulder. “Nah, I think it’s pretty neat! It’s gotta be nice to have neighbors this close – in case somethin’ happens, right? And it looks like it came outta a story book! It’s awesome!”
“You… you’re just saying that.” Arthur flushed, his grip on Alfred’s hand tightening as they approached the house, three golden numbers on the brown door reading, 893, the same three numbers that Alfred remembered writing on the envelopes that contained letters to his best friend.
Arthur’s feet toed the doormat before he knocked on the door, ignoring the confused stare that Alfred sent his way before the doorknob twisted. The door opened slowly, revealing Arthur’s mother. She wore a tight expression, but it melted quickly as Arthur’s grip tightened on Alfred’s hand. “Alfred dear! I didn’t expect for you to come as well! What a lovely surprise! Come in, the both of you, come, come!”
Arthur sent Alfred a side-long glance. “Thank you for coming,” he mouthed silently as they stepped inside the threshold.
“’Course.” The house was warm, a sweet fruity scent wafted in the air and Alfred hoped some was baking. “It’s real great to see you again, Miss Rosie,” he said pleasantly as he took off his jacket and shoes at Arthur’s behest.
And you as well, dearie! I must say that I was not expecting the circumstances of your visit.”
Arthur sighed.” Yes… about that…”
“No, no, your brother and sister are here as well, and there are tarts in the oven. Let’s try and enjoy a good afternoon tea with family for once, hm? It would be delightful, don’t you think?”
Alfred followed Arthur’s mother further into the house, sending Arthur an optimistic, yet nervous smile. “It smells real good, Miss Rosie!”
She tittered a bit, her hands brushing against her cheeks in humble flattery. “Oh, why thank you dearie! I do pride myself in my cooking. I’ve been trying to teach Chloe my recipes, but she’s not one to take to them very well.”
Alfred nodded. “Yeah, cookin’ can be frustrating. I like it best when you got someone to help you.” He paused to admire a neatly painted clock – the image of children playing with fairies neatly detailed onto the clock’s face. “Why don’t you teach Arthur your recipes? I think he’s a great cook!”
There was a sudden bark of laughter and Alfred looked away from Arthur’s mother to see Chloe and Connor sitting at the kitchen table, delicate looking teacups and saucers on the table before them. Connor let loose a long, amused sigh after his laughter had died down. “Arthur? Cook? Either you can’t taste, or you’re nutters!”
Arthur scowled. “Shut up, you windbag,” he growled, taking a seat at the table. Alfred sat next to him, his fingers tracing along the grain of the thick wood of the tabletop. Arthur couldn’t help but to think of all the memories that Alfred’s hands were touching. Had it been the same for Alfred when he had visited the ranch? It was a strange thought.
“It’s nice to see you again, Chloe, Connor,” Alfred said, his smile becoming lopsided and handsome. “Long time no see.”
Chloe grinned. “Aw, the strapping devil remembers us,” she cooed. “I bet you remember every little thing, don’t you? At least about Arthur, hm? Do you know when your anniversary is?”
Alfred glanced at Arthur, only to see his boyfriend give the same expectant look as Chloe. “Well gee, July twenty-first, but we’ve never been able to celebrate it together…” He frowned. “Not yet, anyway,” he added as an afterthought.
Connor made a gagging noise, his freckled face wrinkling up. “You two are sickeningly sappy,” he griped. “Not even Erin is that bad! And she’s feckin’ awful.”
“Erin?” Alfred asked curiously as Arthur rolled his eyes.
Chloe sighed dramatically. “She’s this tart that Conner’s been with since sixth form. Won’t marry her, won’t leave her either. Strange business if you ask me.”
“No one was askin’ you!”
Arthur’s mother bustled about the kitchen, pouring tea and preparing plates for warm tarts. She hummed to herself, making a few comments on how marriage and grandchildren would make for a pleasant future. Connor grumbled and Alfred hung his head. That wasn’t an argument that he ever wanted to hear, no matter who it was directed at. Somehow it made him feel incapable – a failure to his family and his generation and the American government. He wasn’t sure how, but it did.
Arthur cleared his throat. “Perhaps a change of subject would be best,” he suggested, picking up the teacup and saucer as he mother placed it before him. He nudged Alfred with his elbow, hoping the familiar gesture would help lift the American’s spirits a tad. “Chloe, you never did tell me if you received that promotion…”
Alfred listened to the conversation, answering when he was asked questions (which were mostly, Don’t you think so, too Alfred?”) He praised Miss Rosie’s cooking, happily eating as many tarts as she asked while still managing to lean over to Arthur and say, “I still think your cooking is the best,” without getting caught.
After an hour or two of catching up and chatting about nothing in particular, Alfred and Arthur began to grow worried. They knew there was no way that they were going to leave the house without a lecture or a stern talk, or a barrage of questions, at the very least.
Finally Miss Rosie set down her teacup with a definitive sigh. “Alfred, dearie, would you mind coming into the study for a spell? I’ve something to show you.”
Yeah, sure thing Miss Rosie,” he bumbled, standing up awkwardly and sending a paling Arthur a nervous look.
He followed Arthur’s mother through the house, trudging his socked feet along the white carpets. The study smelled of must, bookshelves with sagging, wooden shelves lined three of the walls and a long desk was pushed up against the fourth. Miss Rosie sat in a wheeled chair, motioning for Alfred to stand next to her as she pulled out a thick, crackling binder from one of the desk’s drawers.
Alfred did as he was told, shifting in his spot and hoping that he wasn’t too close or too far away to be considered rude. “This,” she said slowly as she opened the cover of the binder, the plastic sleeves inside making crinkling noises of ill use, “is the family album.” Arthur’s mother pointed to a faded photo of a chubby baby with a wide, toothless smile. “That’s Oliver when he was but a few months old. He always had something to grin about, that one.” She flipped through a few more pages, pointing at another photo. “And there is my dear John. He was a big boy, nearly thought I was given birth to a grown man when he came, I did. He was a fine man, my son. You met him, did you not?” Alfred nodded solemnly. “A great man.” She flipped the page again, smiling as he showed Alfred more photos. “The twins take up half of this album, I swear. They were so photogenic. Loved the camera. See here, that’s Chloe, I can already hear her saying, ‘Take one of me, mummy! It’s mine turn now!”
She went through more pages, pointing out family portraits, candid shots, each one the number of children and their ages seemed to increase. Sometimes there was a man as well, sometimes not, and hardly was it ever the same one.
Her thin finger touched a photo, water damage evident on the folding corners. “That’s Arthur when he was but a week old. He was my ickle Arthur; liked to grab onto your fingers and never let go. He was as bald as can be until he was about nine months old. My bald baby boy. We were so positive that he would be a ginger like his daddy. I’m glad he’s not. I don’t think it would much suit him.”
“Wow,” Alfred breathed. “Arthur was such a cute baby!” He poked the picture where Arthur’s almost abnormally round cheeks were. “Look at that face,” he cooed, “I bet he had one fierce pout.”
Miss Rosie smiled nostalgically. “’Twas the most adorable thing you had ever seen.”
They went through several more pages, all the way up to Arthur’s first day of school. Miss Rosie closed the album gently, giving the cover a loving caress. “My children are precious to me,” she said softly. “They’re all I have in this life; they’re all I will have. Promise me that if you do take my baby boy to America with you, then don’t leave me out of his life. I want letters and phone calls. I want pictures of your firsts as a couple: house, jobs, marriage – whatever. And I want grandbabies… I know… it may not be as easy, but if it ever does happen – and you seem like such the type to want children… I want so many photos of them that it’s shameful. Understand?”
Alfred breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh you bet, Miss Rosie! I’ll be just as excited as you when all of those things happen. I would never wanna leave you out of something so wonderful.”
Miss Rosie smiled, her round eyes teary. “One last thing before I let you back out there.” She cupped her hands around Alfred’s face, her fingers pinching the fleshy lobes of his ears. “If you ever hurt my baby boy, I will personally see to it that you never see the light of day again. Savvy?”
The American winced in her grip, but managed to smile nonetheless. “I would never dream of it. Arthur is… he’s precious to me, too.”
Arthur’s mother released him, patting him gently on the cheek with affection. “You really are a wonderful ear. I’m sure Arthur is safe in your care… If he truly desires to leave – I won’t like it, however… I will not stop him…”
“Thank you very much, Miss Rosie,” Alfred said softly, helping her to stand by offering her his hand. “Haven’ your… well, blessing, it’s a great feelin’.” He paused. “Your opinion means the world to me – and I’m sure it goes the same for Arthur.”
Miss Rosie sniffled, fanning her face with her hand for a moment before she collected herself. “Thank you lovely. Thank you so very much.” She touched his cheek once more and sighed. “Let us head back, shall we?”
She led him back into the kitchen, returning to her busting activities over the pot of tea and pastries, occasionally sniffing or stopping to wipe at her face. Arthur grasped Alfred’s hand as he sat back down, leaning towards the American with a perplexed expression. “Are you alright? What’s wrong with Mother? Did she say anything to offend? Alfred?”
Alfred grinned lightly, trying to tone down the surge of relief and excitement and sheer hope that felt as if it were washing through his body. “Other than threaten my life? Nah, she didn’t say nothin’… but…” His smile grew, curling in amusement. “You were the cutest little baby I ever did see, Arthur!”
The Englishman blushed brightly, shrinking back in surprise and embarrassment. “I… she... she showed you the album?”
Chloe laughed nervously. “Mum… you didn’t… well, didn’t show him everything id you?”
Arthur’s mother smiled widely, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “Why of course I did, dearie,” she said, wiping down the counters before rejoining them at the table. Chloe flushed, her reddening face clashing with the copper color of her hair. “No need to be embarrassed, my sweet! You were a gorgeous child.”
Alfred chuckled. He was pretty sure he knew where Arthur had gotten his penchant for pet names. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell no one about the bathtub photo shoot.”
Connor and Chloe both choked on seemingly nothing. “Mum!”
Miss Rosie only laughed behind a hand. The conversation dwindled and Alfred looked to Arthur’s wristwatch. “We really oughta head back or we’ll miss that bus.”
Arthur perked up in his seat and checked the time for himself. “Blasted… you’re right, love. It was lovely to see you, mother. Connor, Chloe… a pleasure as always.” Miss Rosie stood to kiss Arthur and Alfred in turn, taking a few moments to whisper something into Arthur’s ear before bidding them farewell.
The American chose to ignore the secrecy for the time being, saying nothing as they left the comfortable house. Arthur checked his watch again, mumbling numbers under his breath. He wrapped his hand into the crook of Alfred’s elbow and pulled him in the opposite direction of the bus stop.
“Arthur?” Alfred questioned as they made their way down the cracking sidewalk ad around the block corner. “What about the bus?”
“We can take the final bus,” Arthur replied, sounding distracted and anxious. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with two fingers. “I must show you something.” Arthur looked into Alfred’s face, his green eyes bright and open. “It’s my… special place.”
Alfred nodded in understanding, pulling Arthur closer and wrapping his around the Briton’s shoulders. They walked together in a companionable silence. Arthur snuggled into the leather of Alfred’s jacket and smiled, his feet following the too familiar path off the sidewalk and onto a dirt trail that was no more than a small line cut into the manicured grass. Alfred watched the trail intently. The ones behind the ranch weren’t nearly as narrow, beaten down over the years by the wide hooves of horses and cattle alike. This path seemed so frail in comparison; almost completely disappearing once it hit the woodland.
“This is the forest I spoke of,” Arthur said gently. He broke off from the trial, easily picking his way around gnarled and skinny trees and brush, his and Alfred’s fingers entwined as they moved through the forest. The trees grew thicker and thicker as they went, the orange sunlight leaving glowing speckles on the ground.
Arthur stopped suddenly, releasing Alfred’s hand to touch the mossy bark of a massive tree. “I used to come here every day,” Arthur began, inspecting the tree with fondness. “I would read – there are grooves in the roots here, see. It made for an excellent chair when I was younger. This is where I came to get away.” He smiled at Alfred. “As you may have noticed, my siblings can be less than tolerable when together.”
Alfred hummed; there was a small smile on his lips as he touched the bark of the tree, letting his knuckles graze across the soft, dewy mosses. “I don’t have siblings, but I know what it feels like to want some peace ‘n quiet.” On the ground he spotted a gentle dip in the ground between two thick, gnarled roots. “How much time do we gave before the next bus?”
Puzzled, Arthur frowned as he checked his watch. “Thirty minutes, why?”
“Awesome!” Alfred clambered into the shallow dip, the roots poking at his hipbones, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. “Come an’ sit with me,” he said, fixing his posture and patting the leaf covered ground between his knees.
Arthur made an amused noise and shaking his head. “My trousers will get dirtied,” he protested. “And I’m sure the ground is damp from the rain we had recently.”
With a grimace, Alfred shifted slightly, ignoring the way Arthur smirked at him. “Aw, c’mon Arthur! Live a little! You said you did it all the time as a kid. What’s so bad about doin’ it now?” Alfred pouted, doing his best to look cute – or at least he hoped it was cute. “You can sit on my lap if you want?” he tried.
“You’re impossible,” Arthur said with a huff, giving up the argument and climbing between the American’s knees, his back pressing against Alfred’s chest. “I’ll sit here. Don’t want to excite you too much, now do I?”
Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur, rocking back and forth in a loving rhythm. “Well darn,” he whispered. Alfred smiled slowly. “But still… this is a nice place.” He nuzzled his cheek against Arthur’s ear.
The Briton shuddered as Alfred’s breath tickled the side of his face. “I… I’m glad you think so.” They sat together for a while, simply sharing heat. Alfred pressed a moist kiss to the back of Arthur’s neck and the Englishman’s fingers curled into the cuffs of Alfred’s sleeves. “Do… do you think we’re doing the right thing?” he questioned briefly, his eyes traveling up to stare at the rustling canopy above them.
“Do you think it’s the wrong thing?”
“Point taken.” Arthur let his head fall back onto Alfred’s shoulder so he could eye the sandy blond through half lidded eyes. “I guess I’m nervous over the entire thing. It’s one thing to visit America, but to live there?” He pulled Alfred’s arms around him tighter. “It’s strange to think about – about it actually happening. I’ve dreamt about it, but reality…”
Alfred sighed through his nose. “I know how you feel. I had the same thoughts, you know? Thought about moving here with you instead of going to school, but I knew you wouldn’t agree to that.” Smiling his dimple deepened smile, Alfred squeezed Arthur close and relented. “You were always so adamant about me having a good future – and is all I wanted was you in it. I’ve always known I’m gunna be a rancher, I’m okay with that – happy, even, knowin’ I got a place in life. I’m just worried that that’s not what you want for your future. That’s all.”
“I’m going to say something,” Arthur started, swallowing thickly, his adam’s apple rising and falling with the motion, “And it will be awful – you know how I am with the cheesy, corny mutterings that you’re so adept in.” A small smile twitched onto his lips. “When we were leaving mother whispered into my ear. She said, ‘Follow your heart, love. Your brain is a bit numb, don’t you agree?’ And well… you’ve my heart, Alfred. I’ll go where you go, whether it be America or Mexico or wherever you can conjure. I won’t regret a moment of it.”
The American was silent for a long time, only the sounds of their breath and the light breeze winding through the trees were to be heard. Finally Alfred spoke, “We’ll be a team,” he said, his goofy smile in place as he rubbed his cheek against Arthur’s. “I’ll be like Batman and you can be Robin and we’ll work together and overcome fucking everything and we’ll be inseparable and in love – although I don’t think Batman and Robin were like that, but we totally are ‘coz we’ll be better than Batman and Robin! It’ll be you and me forever and ever, just kicking ass and having great sex!”
“You are absolutely impossible!” Arthur squawked out, sitting up and trying to send Alfred a glare, although he couldn’t rid himself of the amusement that tugged on the corners of his lips. “Batman and Robin? Well I never… And why must I be Robin? Why can’t I be Batman, hm?”
Alfred stuttered and fumbled over excuses as they both started to stand, grimacing at the dampness on the seats of their pants. “W-well of course you can’t be Batman… ‘coz… just because.”
“Aha! See you can’t even think of a decent reason.” Arthur dusted off his shirt with a self-satisfied smirk and Alfred couldn't help but to shake his head fondly.
“Well at least you didn’t disagree with the great sex part.” Arthur scoffed, punching Alfred on the shoulder in retaliation. “Okay, okay!” Alfred breathed in through his nose, staring up into the canopy for a moment. “Hey, Arthur? We’ll came back here again someday, won’t we?” he asked, taking the Briton’s hand into his own.
Puzzled, Arthur frowned. “I… I would hope so. Why?”
“I just…” Alfred shrugged. “I like those future promises, yanno? It makes it seem… like everything’s gunna be alright.” He sent his lover a tentative smile. “It just feels good.”
Their entwined hands swung back and forth as they left the forest, walking down the sidewalk and to the bus stop with light hearts and high hopes, even as the sky clouded over and the rain began to pour.
------
Francis frowned around the lip of his wineglass, his brows falling in concentration as he tried to comprehend everything Arthur told him in the rowdy din of the pub. “You’ve decided to move to America?” he repeated slowly, as if maybe he’d misheard Arthur somewhere along the line.
“Yes. It’s absolutely nutters, I know, but Francis, I’m entirely thrilled and scared and happy. It’s such an odd feeling.” Arthur grasped at his shirt over his chest. “This might just be the best decision of my life.”
The Frenchman raised his brows. “Oh?” He smiled genially. “It sounds to me as if l’amour has stricken you deeply. It is a beautiful feeling, is it not?” Arthur picked up his glass of whiskey, swirling it around a bit before taking a gulp. “Speaking of Americans, where is your little lover? Hm? I didn’t think he left for another three days.”
Arthur flushed slightly. “Ah… yes he’s at my flat. Had to finish an assignment he said. Although I’m sure he just wanted to give me some space and the chance to speak with you alone… A right thoughtful bo– man he is.” He took the last swig of his drink with a sigh, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Scotch, if you would please, bartender!”
“I didn’t think you would be up to drinking so much tonight,” Francis said in good humor. “What would Alfred think to find you stumbling home drunk, giddy and flushed – ah, you must be doing this on purpose, you dog.”
“Shut your mouth, frog.”
Francis guffawed, swirling his wine within his glass as he watched Arthur sip at his new scotch. “Well, at least tell me how long I have to enjoy your pleasurable company.”
Arthur stared into his glass. “’Bout a month. I have a feeling Excalibur isn’t going to take well to the flight. I’m just glad he can come with me in my carryon.”
“That cat…” Francis sighed. He couldn’t think of anything to say, not anything that he was willing to say at any rate. His best friend was leaving – to live a better, loving life with his boyfriend no less. He took a longer drink of his wine. Something inside him felt a bit broken.
------
“I’m home, love!” Arthur shouted as he opened the door of his flat. Francis had brought him as far as the lift, placing a stern hand on his shoulder before bidding the pleasantly drunk blond farewell.
Alfred startled from his lying position on the sofa, wiping sleep from his eyes and pushing his glasses back onto his face. “Arthur… uh… are you drunk?” he asked, blinking rapidly as Arthur leaned over the back of the sofa to kiss him wetly.
“Not terribly so, no,” Arthur answered grinning and kissing Alfred once again. “Although I really wanted to say that. That thing about being home. Can’t wait to hear that and say that every day.”
The American chuckled, his fingers finding their way into Arthur’s mussed hair. “Me either.”
Arthur frowned suddenly. “I need a good wank.”
“Ya – you!” Alfred blustered, choking on a laugh. “Why have a wank when you can have a shag?” he asked with a horribly fake accent, wiggling his brows suggestively and pulling the Englishman down onto him.
They laughed together, exchanging sloppy kisses and writhing together. The future never looked so bright.
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Date: 2012-06-24 05:27 am (UTC)I was always scheptical about long distance relationships but this fic made me reconsider it XD
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Date: 2012-06-25 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-24 05:46 am (UTC)And I quote myself again, never stop harassing us with your fic! Never stop!
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Date: 2012-06-25 09:15 pm (UTC)nyaaah~~~~
Date: 2012-06-24 07:12 am (UTC)Please don't make it angsty, let them be together without any trouble, please :( and let Arthur recover, since Al is with him, he shouldn't be too stressed from now... please u.u
I hope to read the next chapter soon, I love your style <3
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Date: 2012-06-24 07:52 am (UTC)You perfect human being. I don't know what to say, other than... this is perfect.
Waiting for the next -and last- chapter ;u;
Poor Francis!
Date: 2012-06-24 10:04 am (UTC)Will you post this on FF anytime soon? The "purge" as you called it is pretty much over, I'm sure others would be simply delighted.
Re: Poor Francis!
Date: 2012-06-24 06:07 pm (UTC)And Francis! It always, always sucks to be the friend that gets left behind, no matter your relationship status. :o But I'm sure he'll be alright. ;)
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Date: 2012-06-25 07:13 am (UTC)I'm so excited for their moving and the future ahead of them! But I don't want it to end! I just love this universe so much!
I have to say that bit with them in Arthur's special place, just sitting there together, was really adorable. Possibly my favorite part in the story next to when Alfred makes love to Arthur for the first time. :3
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Date: 2012-06-26 08:38 pm (UTC)