There were days that Arthur believed Alfred would always be a child.
Not in the physical sense, of course, considering the boy was a good half a head taller than him and could still pull a car for several miles without breaking a sweat. It wasn't entirely his attitude either, because Arthur had seen him serious on many occasions, dealing with politics and wars he'd never wanted to enter. But sometimes, it was easy to forget all that, to see only the childish hopes and dreams, the grin on his face and wild ideas that he knew could never come true.
But it was a time like this that he remembered that Alfred was more like himself than he would like to admit, and yet the image of Alfred in his uniform seemed wrong to him, like they didn't suit him, and yet they matched the look in his eyes. It was calculating, cool, and firm, and then Arthur could see the man who led many a squadron against their foes, who could take out a man with a single shot from a hundred yards or more. Today they were supposed to be working together to rescue a few dozen soldiers who were being held captive by the Axis powers, and while Alfred had been told it was a ridiculous suicide mission the boy was determined to succeed. Arthur alone knew the real reason, that the men were part of Alfred's personal squad, that had flown many a mission with him, and he wouldn't let them remain prisoners only to be tortured for information or killed.
"This will have to be quick, or they're muster forces to combat us and we'll be wiped out."
Alfred told the few soldiers they had at their command, Arthur surprised that he was taking such control, usually he would simply gives commands, but rarely did he see him like this, stern and showing no fear. Arthur, of course, knew that wasn't true, Alfred hated fighting, but he also knew that Alfred was loyal, and he wouldn't let his companions stay there.
"But Captain Jones, what if they see us coming? They'll wipe us out withing moments-"
"Only if you defer from the plans that I've set." Alfred replied, looking at the man who had spoken up, who immediately nodded and saluted him, looking down at his feet. Alfred sighed, standing up, Arthur noticing the square, determined set to his shoulders, the way his hand rested carefully calculated inches from the gun he always kept tucked in his belt on his hip. He outlined the rest of their plan, without a single laugh, a single mentions of giant super heroes or wild attacks. It was a quick, easy rescue plan, one that had obviously been well thought up, and Arthur knew that Alfred had come up with it himself, and he tried not to be surprised at that thought. Alfred was, as he'd always known, a brilliant tactician when he wanted to be, he was good with the land and with the men. Of course, he insisted on leading the attack, and Arthur insisted on going with him. He also knew the boy would protest.
"Arthur, you're supposed to be in the back, where it's safer."
"Safer?" Arthur scoffed, looking at him as they both strapped on their guns and other weaponry. "I am more than twice your age, Alfred, I hardly believe my safety should be your concern."
"I also have it completely covered by myself, and I could use you at the back to cover us." Alfred replied, turning to him, and Arthur was once again struck by the look on his face, the stern look of an experienced soldier that it was so easy to forget he was. Arthur sighed and nodded, realizing that it might jut be best to do as Alfred said.
"Alright, but if you get yourself into trouble you better not come crying to me, you hear?"
"Oh, I won't, Arthur." Alfred's mouth quirked into a smile, flicking the safety on his handgun before he tucked it into his belt, pulling his coat back on before he walked from the room. They set out for the camp, keeping silent as they walked through the forest, but then it was broken when they caught sight of the first guard outside the little encampment, Alfred whipping out his gun and firing a quick shot at first one, then another, waving them forward.
"Come on, move in! We have to be in and out, follow me!"
Arthur watched as the men followed without a second thought, their loyalty and trust in the man before them complete and true, and they moved into the camp like an arrow, Alfred's shots precise and always hitting their target, and Arthur could see why he always claimed to be a perfect shot. No one would ever doubt him, if they ever faced him in battle, and no one would ever know that this was the same man who would joke and whine for ice cream in the middle of a war. No, this was a Captain, a soldier who would fight for his people, his country, and a man who would never stop surprising Arthur.
"Arthur, come on, you're hanging too far behind!"
Alfred's shout brought him back to that moment, and Arthur gripped his gun, following behind the taller blond, who had successfully found the room where the soldiers were being kept, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake, kicking down the door, a feat that Arthur new took a mere fraction of his true strength. The rest of the men rushed in, freeing their comrades, Alfred guarding the door, keeping their way clear. They moved out quickly, Alfred swearing under his breath as they heard the sound of engines approaching, urging them onward.
"Come on, let's get out of here!" He yelled, hanging toward the back, aiming a few shots at the soldiers who tried to follow them out of the building, bullets flying at them, but Alfred stayed calm, firing back over his shoulders, tugging on Arthur's arm as they started running after their men.
"Shit." Alfred mumbled when the sound of engines grew closer, and they could see a truck full of soldiers following after them, a large machine gun mounted on the back. Alfred came to a stop, Arthur stopping with him, glaring.
"Alfred, run! What in God's name are you doing?"
"Just go, Arthur! I'll be right there!" Alfred yelled, shoving him after the men, but Arthur shook his head.
"You idiot, I'm not leaving you here by yourself to fend them off! Just come along with us!"
"Just go, Arthur! I have a plan, but I can't have them see it!"
"What the hell kind of plan is it, then?" Arthur snapped, but Alfred just waved his arm at him.
"Get the hell out of here, Arthur, or I'll make you!"
"You-" Arthur stopped, groaning, realizing he had no choice, he had to trust in Alfred, he knew he could. "Fine, but I expect you in less that half an hour, or I'm coming back!"
"I'll be there, Arthur, that's a promise." Alfred said, mouth quirking up into a smile as he turned around, and after a moment Arthur grudgingly did the same, heading out after their men. Alfred waited until they were out of sight, pulling a grenade out, a smirk lighting his lips as he popped the pin, looking at the convoy in front of him.
"Alright, let's get this over with, then. I've got a date."
He flung the grenade, and it sailed just past the first truck, landing right between it and the next one, and when it went off both flew in the air, and then before any of them could even realize what had happened Alfred was on them, firing a few quick shots, dodging bullets easily, only a few barely scraping him as he made his way to the next truck, grabbing the front and flipping it easily, the weight nothing to him, and it was over in under fifteen minutes, every truck and every solider was down. Alfred stood in the middle, staring through the smoke, a heavy sighing passing his lips when he looked at the destruction, tucking his guns away and looking down at his hands, a wry smile on his lips.
"I've become such a good soldier, haven't I?" he whispered, surprised to feel something wet on his cheeks, scrubbing his jacket sleeve over his eyes as if to hide the evidence, walking away back towards their own camp, and he would greet Arthur with a smile and a little jab as always, but both of them knew what he was capable of.
And both, although they would never admit it, feared it.