Alfred took a deep breath, and smiled. Gazing out happily at the 100 acre ranch he had built up over the years, he sighed, and sat down. Moments later, Arthur sat down next to him. Alfred turned to look at him, smile widening.
Dressed in surprisingly worn dark jeans, a black button down, some English riding boots and the black Stetson that Alfred had gotten for him, he no longer looked like the stuffy Englishman he had been that morning.
Arthur turned his green-eyed gaze to meet Alfred's, and frowned, a light pink dusting the tops of his cheeks. He mumbled, "What are you staring at, you git?"
Alfred reached an arm over, tugging Arthur against him, and with a slight smirk, said in a heavy Texas drawl, "You darlin'. Nothin' like seeing my sweet lil' Iggy all dressed up in his ridin' boots and such." He let out a loud laugh as he saw Arthur blush violently.
"Git. Are we going riding or not?" Arthur said crossly, not bothering to remove Alfred's arm from around his shoulders. He glanced back at where the horses had been tied, and when he turned his head back, he found his lips captured by Alfred's. Briefly he debated challenging him for dominance, but quickly gave up when Alfred's arms wrapped around him, capturing him in a comforting embrace. The kiss ended all too soon in Arthur's opinion and he showed this in a frown.
Alfred just smirked at him, before standing, taking Arthur with him. Keeping one arm around Arthur's waist, he started walking over to the horses. Arthur looked up at him. Alfred had a look about him, an air of utter happiness, and Arthur allowed a small smile. That is, until Alfred looked back down at him, and he glared at him.
Upon reaching the horses, Alfred stood back slightly, and offered his hand to Arthur. Arthur scoffed at it, and swung himself up smoothly into the saddle, fitting his feet into the well-worn stirrups and picking up the reins. He looked down haughtily at Alfred, who stared back with love and affection in his sky-blue eyes.
Alfred turned, and after freeing both of the horses, swung up into his own horse's saddle. Feeling the slight pick-up of adrenalin, he leaned over, and gave Arthur a light butterfly kiss on the lips. He then clucked softly to his horse, Maggie, and wheeled her around, setting off at an easy trot to warm up. He listened, and heard the grumblings of Iggy that really meant that he was happy, and then the pickup of Iggy's horse Caroline beginning to trot. They rode together through the gates, and soon were cantering down the hill. Once they reached level ground, Arthur urged Caroline into a gallop, and Alfred followed on Maggie.
Soon, Alfred put his plan into action, and motioned for Arthur to follow him down a trail into the woods. After a minute or two of riding, they come to a clearing. Alfred hops off of Maggie and lets her mill around a tree, and Arthur dismounts gracefully afterwards, tying Caroline up near Maggie. He turns around to see Alfred grinning, holding a massive picnic basket. From inside it he produces two thermoses. Offering one to Arthur, he plops down by the tree, giving Maggie and Caroline a few carrots to munch on. Arthur opened the thermos and sniffed delicately, smiling as he caught the scent of bergamot.
Alfred patted a spot next to him, and Arthur sank down into the soft grass, taking a few tester sips before setting down the thermos. It was only then that the familiar scent of coffee greeted his nose. As he breathed it in, he thought of how much it smelled like Alfred, and how much he loved the smell of Alfred, and how Alfred was right next to him right now… And then he saw Alfred smirking at him again. He quickly put on a customary scowl, and looked away. He heard Alfred chuckle, and then heard that deep, Southern accent that always gave him shivers.
"Like what ya see, darlin'?" Alfred asked, mouth right next to his ear. He huffed, and searched for a good cover up. Of course he liked what he saw. The American's gold hair was set off by the dark brown Stetson he wore, and his fitted red plaid button down and old worm jeans highlighted his strong yet slender frame. But he couldn't say that, of course.
"No, I'm just wondering how it is you haven't slipped into a coma from all of the coffee you drink all of the time." he muttered. "I swear I even hear some of your people referring to you as the coffee nation."
"You know why they call me coffee? Because I grind so fine." Alfred said, low and slow in Arthur's ear.
Arthur blushed bright red, memories flooding his brain, before he shut them all down in favor of showing the American right in front of him that Americans weren't the only ones who could do coffee.