Just something I threw together one night, for fun. I like the concept, and might do more. Don't worry, I'm still working on 'Aged Heart Meets Young Soul'.

Alfred held his breath, easing his fingers under the window sill. He coaxed the old, stiff frame upward, wincing as it squeaked softly. On one hand, he'd oiled it so it was pretty quiet. On the other, it was a sad statement that he'd used this method so often the scatterbrained blond had actually gotten around to oiling it.

Please don't let him wake up, thought Alfred, easing himself through the window. And if he does, please let him not be mad.

Arthur had expressed his displeasure with Alfred's late returns on more than one occasion. Alfred went out of his way to avoid the Brit's wrath where he could, though he did admit it could be fun getting a rise out of Arthur. This was not one of those times, though. If Arthur did get mad he'd end up on the couch. Again.

Alfred carefully peeled off his uniform once he'd pulled the window shut, stripping down to his stars and stripes undies. After dumping everything in the corner of his office, he tiptoed into the bathroom, easing the door shut. At least he didn't have to worry about the shower waking Arthur. He'd had to get up early for work enough times his lover was attuned to it. He found it ironic that he could take a shower, bad singing and all, without waking up the Brit. Meanwhile so much as a fart on the other side of the apartment would have him sitting bolt upright in bed, demanding an explanation and an indication that Alfred was aware of just what time it was.

Once he had showered and brushed his teeth, Alfred tiptoed out into their bedroom. Moving very carefully, with more practice than he cared to think about, he eased himself onto the bed, carefully peeling up the covers. He slipped his legs under the sheets, slowly laying down on his back, setting his glasses on the nightstand.

Alfred waited a heartbeat, and then relaxed, sighing softly. Wow, he'd made it-

"Got carried away again, did we?" came a drowsy murmur from beside him, making Alfred go ridged.

"Uh, you're awake? Sorry Iggy, I tried to be quite. Please don't send me to the couch," he blurted.

Arthur rolled over, and to Alfred's surprise put an arm around his shoulders, nestling his head against Alfred's neck. Still in a drowsy tone, he said, "No, you already worked so hard to get this far. You look quite funny when you're trying to be stealthy."

Alfred drooped, but still reached up to run his fingers through Arthur's sandy blond hair. "I still woke you up, huh?"

"Mmm, no," murmured the Brit, closing his eyes. "You're fine, love. I figured if you were just going to wake me anyway I'd just as well wait for you. Read for a bit...was dozing when you came in...

Alfred smiled softly, still petting Arthur's hair as he nodded off. Once he was out Alfred took a moment to study Arthur in the dim light. It was moments like this that made it all worth it. No matter how bad things got, no matter how rough a day he had, no matter how much work sucked or how hard a villain tried to kill him, he could come home to this. He would come home to a cozy apartment, a warm bed, and Arthur. No he couldn't cook, and he had a temper, and many other faults, but so did Alfred. One of his many good traits was this, that rather than continue to complain and argue, he'd simply waited up for Alfred. It was the forth night in a row, and Alfred was still getting used to it. Not that he'd blame Arthur for getting upset, but it was nice when he didn't.

He was a hero, he couldn't stop saving people any more than Arthur could stop making tea. It had taken time, but he'd found someone who understood that. Even when he'd complained it was just about the late hours and getting woken up. Not once had Arthur had any negative sentiment to Alfred's playing the vigilante, besides the fact he might come home wounded. Super strength didn't mean he was invincible, after all. Fast-healing and almost indestructible, yes, but it was the almost part that kept Arthur worried.

Alfred closed his eyes, fingers slowing to a stop. Today had been particularly rough, even before he'd pulled on his hero suit. Honestly he'd had half a mind to forgo that night's vigilante post to spend more time with Arthur. But it the police scanners had been firing off reports like a machine gun all day, he couldn't resist. Unfortunately it had only ended him with two near-misses with the police, a bullet wound Arthur hadn't noticed yet, and a measly six criminals at a police stations doorstep. A few years ago he would have slipped into a bar somewhere. Now, he only thought about going home. Hot shower, clean bed, and Arthur. Arthur in old plaid boxers and a ratty Dr. Who t-shirt, Arthur who smelled like lavender soap and Earl Gray, even after a shower.

Exhaustion finally settled in as Alfred relaxed, musing over Arthur. It didn't take long for him to nod off, but when he did, it was a with a smile on his face. He considered it a testament to just how crazy he really was that the smile was from him imagining Arthur flipping out when he found the bandage wrapping his right arm. Without the fear of banishment to the couch, he was looking forward to Arthur blowing his top when he realized one of the criminals had managed to put a bullet through his bicep. It would be healed by morning, but the bloodstained bandage and hole in the suit would be obvious evidence.

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