So there was a discussion on lj, "Who is your fav historical figure?" mine is the founding fathers, and after reading some of the comments, i decided that there really WASN'T enough love for those wonderful men. so i decided to put this out~
I may continue this...and go through each of the founders. Thoughts on that or should i just leave it as a drabble? Idk. I just love the idea that they met alfred before they knew him as "america"...
Date: 1751
"Samuel! Good god, you blundering moron, where have you gone off to?"
The boy ran through the forest, his feet making a light pattering noise against the worn path. He was dressed rather simply, his dark hair pulled back into a tight pony tail, his face stern and drawn into a frown. He wore a plain, white shirt, a simple cravat, tanned breaches, a matching vest, and dark, buckled shoes. On his right arm, he carried his coat, having removed it some time ago due to the heat.
He paused, panting for breath, before looking around once more, "SAMUELLLL!" he hollered, cupping his hands to his face. He paused for a second, letting the sound echo around. However, when he was met with no response, he scowled and started shuffling along the path, grumbling under his breath.
"Stupid…bloody drunken bastard…"He continued along the path for some times in this manner, not pausing until he reached the end. It led to a wide open field, and in the distance, he could see a small, rather quaint cottage. Smoke was coming from the chimney, and as he strained his eyes, he could see two figures squatted in front of the door.
One of them he quickly recognized as Samuel.
He let out a sharp growl, and drawing himself up to full height (which, though he loathed to admit it, was not much) he stormed up to the house, his coat flapping behind him. As he approached the pair, he realized that he did not recognize Samuel's companion. He was a boy, perhaps younger than himself if only by a few years, with bright blue eyes and golden hair. He wore a light cotton shirt and blue trousers, dirtied and torn.
Upon hearing him approach, the pair, Samuel and the boy looked up, the former's face breaking into a grin.
"John! What took you so long!" Samuel stood up, from where he had been squatting on the ground, the blue-eyed boy following suit.
"What took me so long!" John cried, exasperated, "You go galloping off on your precious horse, leaving me to fend for myself! You drag me away from the center of the city, off to some…some...backwater town, then run off and tell me to follow you! Good god! Are you mental!"
"John" Samuel said, staring at the shorter boy, "Did you ask the stable hand for a horse?"
John spluttered, waving his hands about, "Wh..what, no!"
"You were supposed to." Samuel responded, smiling slightly, "Or what ? Is little Johnny too proud to ask for help?"
John glared up at the other, his face, already red from the running he had done, slowly turning redder. However, Samuel seemed unnerved, laughing and opting to ruffle his hair instead, "Now, John, since we've got that figured out, there's someone I'd like you to meet"
Samuel stepped aside, allowing the blue eyed boy to approach John, "John, this is Alfred. Alfred, John."
"It's awesome to meet you!" the boy chirped, grabbing John's hand and wringing it enthusiastically. John gasped at the strength of the boy's grip; it seemed far too strong for a boy who looked a mere thirteen years old.
"The pleasure is mine" John managed to grind out, cradling his hand to the chest once he had been able to wrest it from of the boy's grip.
"So you know Sam?" Alfred asked, smiling at John.
"In a manner of speaking" John said, still scowling at Samuel, who stood to the side, grinning like an idiot, "He's my second cousin."
"Oh!" Alfred exclaimed, excitedly, "That's pretty nice. So you're John Adams? Sam talked about you a little!"
"Indeed." John replied, ignoring the smirk that Samuel was undoubtedly sending his way, "Either way, I never did catch your surname"
"Jones! It's Alfred F. Jones!"
"Wonderful. " John said, nodding curtly.
"Wanna see what we were doing before you came?" Alfred asked, quickly scurrying back to whatever they had been working on, excitement radiating from his very being.
"Why not," John shrugged, following the pair to where they had been upon his arrival, "I don't suppose it could be too-GOOD GOD WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME WERE YOU TWO DOING!"
Alfred and Samuel grinned at him, clearly amused at the other's reaction. There, on the ground was a rather large keg labeled, "gunpowder". Attached to it was a fuse, made of white rope. Next to the explosives was a pair of something that looked like wings, made of a wooden frame and rather thin cloth, and a cannon.
"I'm gonna fly!" Alfred exclaimed, his bright blue eyes swimming with excitement, "See, we made wings, and Sam's gonna shoot me outta the cannon, and then the wings will open up an' I'll drift safely to the ground!"
"No, you won't drift safely to the ground", John growled out, resisting the urge to throttles his moronic cousin for allowing a boy to go this far with an idea, "You'll be blown into a billion godforsaken bits, and perhaps, yes those bits of you may go flying out of your bloody cannon and drift safely to the ground, but you will not. Because you will be dead."
"No I won't!" the boy cried out, "I won't die. I can't die."
"Yes, yes, actually, you can." John said, pinching the bridge of his nose, and trying to prevent the seemingly inevitable migraine, "You can die."
"Nu-huh."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes you can."
"Nope!"
"Good god!", John cried, exasperated. Ignoring Alfred's protest, he grabbed Samuel, dragging him away from the younger boy.
"Are you crazy!" John cried, glaring up at his second cousin, "You told that boy you were going to blast him out of a cannon!"
"He asked me to!" Samuel cried, holding his hands up in self-defense, "He was really excited about it too!"
"AND YOU LISTENED TO HIM!"
"Relax John" Samuel said, rolling his eyes, "You know, for someone of only 16 years, you certainly have a rather large stick shoved way too far up your ass."
"Let's not talk about what is up my ass, but rather what you are planning on doing to that poor child."
"I wasn't planning on actually shooting him out of the cannon, John" Samuel said, "The wings aren't even close to done. It'll take forever to finish them. And after that, I'll just throw him off a small cliff. I don't know, tell him the cannon is broken."
"Because tossing a child over the edge of a cliff isn't going to get you into any trouble at all."
"Have some faith, John" Samuel said, shrugging, "I think the wings might actually work. Truth be told, I'm somewhat interested in the outcome myself. Plus this kid just won't take no for an answer…he's obsessed with flying, and just wouldn't drop it. Plus, I said small cliff. He might get a few bones, worst. And they say the burnt hands learns best, no?"
"No" John growled, smacking his palm to his forehead, "No. No, no, no. No. Samuel, you can't just go tossing random children off of escarpments. Are you insane? What about the boy's parents. What do you expect to tell them when you bring their son back with a few broken bones?"
"He doesn't have parents."
"What?"
Samuel frowned, his usually cheerful disposition fading into a troubled expression, "He…lives alone in that house."
"But…doesn't he have anyone…?"
"Well…he mentioned a couple people; he's always talking about his "big brother" Arthur…he won't shut up about the man…and then he mentioned a "Matthew"…"
"Wait, so where is this Arthur and Matthew?" John asked
"I don't know" Samuel shrugged, "I tried asking him. Apparently, Arthur's back in Britain, and Matthew is in French-Canada."
"So…he's all here by himself…" John asked, staring back at the boy, who had once again occupied himself with the wings.
"Yea." Samuel shrugged, "He came to me one day, and when I asked him about his parents, he just…got really quiet. He misses this "Arthur" character quite badly."
"He can't be older than 13…" John said, "And he's all alone out here…"
"Yes" Samuel nodded, "I come out here as often as I can…try to keep him company, you know? I'd imagine he would get lonely out here all by himself. What I don't understand is why he'd choose to live all the way out here, rather than in Boston. He's smart. There's a lot he could get from living closer to the city. We don't only work on the wings, you know…we talk a lot, mostly about some philosophers…Locke and Voltaire, just to name a few. He's fascinated by these "Enlightenment" ideas; you should hear him go on about them sometimes."
John nodded, watching the boy labor carefully over the wing, his slender fingers quickly making changes and adjustments, "Why did you want me to meet him?" he finally asked.
"He asked to meet you."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly that." Samuel shrugged, "I mentioned I had a cousin named John…he smiled and said, "John Adams. I like that name. Could I meet him?" Who was I to deny him?"
John frowned , then shrugged, walking past Samuel and to where the boy sat, "How is the progress coming?" he finally asked softly.
Alfred looked up at him, beaming brightly, "It's great! I can't wait to show Arthur!"
"Um. Yes. Arthur. Where is he?"
Alfred's smile faded, and he looked away from John, his attention refocused to the "wing" in his hands, "He's not here now. He's busy. He has a lot to work to do an' stuff. S…so I can't bother him! I…I've gotta be big an' strong, so he won't hafta worry 'bout me, and someday…someday I'll protect him, an' provide for him, an' then…then he won't be busy no more, an' he can stay with me!"
The boy's voice had grown progressively shakier as he talked, his fists clenched into little balls. John frowned, uncomfortable with the boy's obvious pain and loneliness. Here he was, a young lad of only thirteen, out in the wilderness all by himself with nobody to turn to.
"Alfred…um. Arthur." John coughed uncomfortably. He had never been particularly good at dealing with human emotions, "Um…I'm sure he'll be back soon." Kneeling by Alfred, he placed an arm around the boy's shoulder, pulling him into a somewhat awkward half hug.
Alfred looked up at John, his eyes slightly glazed over with tears. Then, without another second's notice, he tackled the other boy to the ground, crying and sniffling rather loudly, as he covered John's cravat with mucus and tears. Patting his back, John tried to soothe the boy, "Come now, come. Don't cry…he'll be back..."
Alfred cried for a few more minutes before his tears subsided to a light sniffle, and then, nothing.
"Alfred?" John asked looking down at the other boy in his arms. Much to John's surprise, he was asleep, apparently worn out from his time with Samuel and the crying session. Ordinarily, John would have had nothing to do with such "rubbish" but something about the boy prevented John from shoving Alfred off his chest where he had fallen asleep. Perhaps it was pity, the sympathy he felt for the poor, lonely child…but no. John frowned. There was something more. He studied the boy's face carefully, a warm feeling, something akin to love and a strong desire to protect the sleeping child bubbling up from within him.
"John?"
"He's asleep Samuel"
Nodding, Samuel leaded over, and after a quick nod from John, picked the sleeping figure off the ground, and carried him into the small cottage.
"Samuel?" John asked, trailing behind his second cousin.
"Yes?"
"Alfred…there's something…"
"Strange about him?" Samuel finished, reaching the bedroom of the house and gently depositing Alfred onto the bed, "Yes. I know…I don't know what it is. When I met him…it was just…strange. I…I felt ready to die for this boy, to give him everything I had, to help him in any way that I could…and I had just met him!"
John nodded, frowning slightly, "I feel the same. It's strange…like, I need to protect him, to help him. This Arthur. I don't like him. How dare he just leave Alfred here…all alone, by himself! Good god, what kind of irresponsible parental figure is he! "Oh, let's just abandon our son here and go prance across the Pond!" I don't give a damn how busy that bastard is, he should be back here, protecting and caring for Alfred!"
"Shh" Samuel said, "Not so loud John, you'll wake him up."
John frowned, and hesitantly, reached out, laying his palm flat against Alfred's forehead, "He's so young, Samuel…" he stood there for about a minutes in silence, watching the up and down movement of the boy's chest before drawing his hand away.
"It's getting late, Samuel. We need to go back into town."
"I'm assuming you'll be riding on my horse?"
"Of course, you blathering imbecile." John replied, loftily, striding out of the house, "Now come. The ride back to Boston is rather long, no? We need to return back home by sunset."
Samuel smirked, following his cousin to where the horse waited outside.
So I Samuel Adams was somewhat of a contriversial figure in American history. Some people see him as basically a terrorist, others as a patriot. I just see him as a guy with a deep love for his nation...and horribly brash. So, idk...Alfred would get along with him well...like, you kno those friends you do stupid shit with? (hence the willingness to chuck alfred off a SMALL cliff) Yea. them.
John Adams, on the other hand, is absolute love. Seriously, I love that man to death. Which is kinda strange, cuz I don't necessarily agree with all his ideals...but I still love him. And all the founding fathers. They're just full of love and awesome~This fic was set when John was about 16 years old; right before he left for Harvard. Sam is 8 years older.
I kinda see sam and john as rivals in private..brothers but not quite. i mean, sam was the fiery patriot, and john, while "obnoxious and disliked" tended to be more of a thinker...they were second cousins.
And before anyone freaks out, yes, I know Sam Adams never tossed his country over a cliff, and this senario never happened. Creative lisence?
Reviews? And feedback...continue this or leave as a oneshot?