Author's Note: Howdy y'all. I know most are waiting for an update on both Black Tie Affair and Cross My Heart and Promise To Cry but this is for a writer who writes beautiful UsUk/Jokir/AmericaxEngland in the form of And All That Jazz. Gogogo and read it because it makes me squeal. This is for you dear.
Read and Review! I want to improve my writing and grammar because while I feel I have a decent concept of it, I know that as a human I am not perfect.
Edit: Went back through and re-edited some minor things. I loved all the favorites and lovely reviews I have received. Thank you so much!
(And updates will come eventually on my other two. Sometime after my one-shot plot bunnies stop spamming me.)
I looked into the eyes of my boyfriend. My loving, caring, adorable... No, I need to stay strong for this.
"Alfred," I started hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't be able o tell what I was about to say.
"Yeah baby cakes?" I scowled at the horrendous nickname before taking my hands from behind my back, shoving...that thing! back into his hands. "I-I...I can't do this anymore." I looked at him guiltily, noticing how Alfred's eyes (his beautiful, blue eyes that always shined with happiness) watered as he looked down at the thing in his hands.
"Bu-but Artie...di-didn't you like it?"
"..." Silence was the only answer I could offer him. I couldn't offer comfort. I had to stay strong.
He looked back down at the cat in his arms that was struggling to come back to me. "Don't you know how long it took me teach him to say-"
"DON'T-," I commanded before the cat cut in.
"Her-owwww!"
Now I know you are looking at this going "Wow! That man is a right tosser! I mean, who gives back a cat their boyfriend picked out just for them!" but I have my reasons. Very good, sound reasons unlike the bullocks Alfred comes up with.
One: It never shuts up.
At first it was really adorable, the way Hero (the cat) would follow me around making his (now) agitating meow. Alfred, before he gave him to me, somehow taught it to replace it's m's with an h. So instead of hearing an adorable "meow", you hear something that sounds like "hero".
Like my boyfriend. Wonderful.
Before Hero gets his food (we will delve into the phenomenon later), he makes a wheezing noise. Haz, haz, haz. Herow, haz. It's bloody maddening, especially when it is at three in the morning. When I forgot to get him "real food" after dealing with meetings and dates with Alfred.
The only time Hero is somewhat quite was when I am on the phone with France. He sulks away to nibble at whatever is in his dish, comes back, and glares at the phone. He then sneaks up to me (none to subtlety), until he is seated in my lap. He preens and nuzzles at my hands, purring and mewling, and being a general nuisance. He purrs louder, slightly digging his nails into my pants, when he hears me getting frustrated and my accent changes into a think Cockney accent that no one but my brothers can decipher.
(It is rather endearing...not the noise, but the jealousy.)
"So why don't you want him anymore," Alfred asked as we returned from picking up some food for Hero who wouldn't shut up (much like his soon to be owner). In both of their defenses though, it was nearly suppertime and both couldn't go more than an hour without eating.
"Because...," I trailed off as we entered the house, Hero barreling down the hallway more dog-like than the feline he is. "Haz, haz, haz! Her-owwww haaaz!"
"Yes, yes pet. One second," I exclaimed as he circled my feet as I put his food in his dish as Alfred shoved fries into his mouth angrily.
"Y'u still smile wh'n you see hmmm! It doesn't make s'nse on why you don't want hmmmm," he said through a mouthful of food and a pout. I knew he would be displeased when I did this but...
I ignored his question in favor of Hero gulf down a hamburger.
Two: His eating habits.
Yes, you read correct: my cat eats hamburgers. And yes, it's entirely Alfred's fault. When Hero was a kitten, he ate normal cat food. He received half-a-cup of dry food, twice a day except on Friday evenings as a reward.
But one weekend when I had to work in Italy, Alfred stopped by unexpectedly (as usual). He begged to go with me, saying he needed to go with me to "save his damsel from exhaustion", when I got a (not that) brilliant idea. It's not that I didn't want him to go with me; I just knew I would be exhausted making sure he didn't make me even more stressed after dealing with the two halves of Italy, idiots they were.
"Alfred, can you watch Hero for me? He's going to be here all by himself this week and I'm going to be oh-so-worried..." He jumped at the idea. He took notes more attentive notes than I ever saw him take at meetings on his feeding instructions, carefully stored the pounds in his wallet to buy Hero some dry food (as he was running low), and we...'signed the agreement' before I left.
When I finally came back (after a week of long talks, nothing getting done, and walking in on questionable brotherly bonding), I was tired. I wanted a cuppa, cuddle Alfred, and go to bed. That's why when I saw a questionable red stain on my cat's mouth, I walked to his food bowl and stared. "Alfred...what is in my cat's bowl!"
"Artie! ~," he exclaimed happily as he approached me, nuzzling my neck as he continued talking, "It's a hamburger! I saw a videogame at the store, bought it with Hero's food money, and bought him some Mickie D's to compensate!"
(He looked so proud of himself I didn't have the heart, or energy, to realize the monster he had created. That didn't stop me from making him leave our warm bed at six am in order to get Hero something to shut up.)
The night before he left, after making additional arrangements to take Hero back over that horrible three thousand mile distance, we relaxed. Nothing dirty, just cuddling. I know that most of the world is convinced that we screw twenty-four-hours-a-day-seven-days-a-week, but we aren't over sexed teenagers. We have spent decades apart; we know the meaning of self-control. (I'm not saying we don't have sex. The sex we have is...amazingthankyouverymuch.)
I love these nights the best though; Alfred seated on my couch, me placed on his lap as he played a videogame. He will wear a pair of ratty sweat pants that have small holes and coffee stains, his chest bare and warm against me as I'm clad in just one of his tee-shirts (which is more like a mini-dress on my smaller figure). His head rests on my shoulder and he will occasionally press shy little kisses along my neck or shoulder when the collar slips down that far. He places my hands on the controller and cover them with his, controlling the game with the slight barrier of my hands. He chuckles softly in my ear as I pout when 'he' looses by purposely swinging the character around to be shot on purpose. Each time the man regenerates, I press huffy kisses on his lips, both of us mumbling 'I love you's.
Hero watched us from the next cushion over before wanting in on the action. He dodged our intertangled arms and settled in my lap, purring as we exchange friendly banter of "git" and "old man", head perking up when I cheered excitedly when we won the round against Kiku and Gilbert. He padded after us as we headed to bed, Alfred and I holding hands above the cat's head. Hero perched himself on my side after Alfred pulled me to his chest when we lay down. I feel asleep to the sound of his purrs as Alfred rubbed circles on my stomach.
(I almost feel bad I'm sending Hero away. But it's best for me...I think.)
"So why didn't you want him again?" Alfred tried bringing up the subject again, right before he left, carrying Hero's cage with him. Hero was curled up in the corner, staring between his burger with disinterest and me with a (pitiful, hopeless, needful) pout. I mean...if cats could pout.
"Because...because...," I stuttered out. I took another look at Hero, who seemed to be looking at me with a look that said "Just tell him."
Three: He made me miss Alfred.
Hero is so sweet, loud, hyper, annoying, cuddly, obsessive, and the most persistent cat ever. And he is mine.
Like Alfred.
And when Alfred wasn't here he would licks at my tears, listen to my slightly tipsy ramblings, nuzzle me, and "say" hero until I felt better and reassured.
(I couldn't get rid of him. It would be like getting rid of Alfred, even if this made me THAT much more dependent on him.)
I grasped at Alfred, pulling him down for a kiss. He was puzzled at my unusual public display of affection, but when he was distracted I wrestled the crate away from him lax fingers. I pulled back from him, blushing heavily as I mumbled. "I-I think I want him still."
Alfred lazily smiled at me. "I'm glad. Because I couldn't actually get him a spot on the plane because I'm a bit low on cash right now..."
Idiot.