Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or British Airways. Or London City Airport. Or Captain America. Or Austin Powers. Or James Bond. Or Pret-A-Manger the restaurant. Or the magazines: Woman's Weekly and Simply Knitting.

Warning: PROFANITY (note the use of the caps-lock key for emphasis). Some stereotypes. Some OCs for sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, and grammatically). Drunk people can make real jerks of themselves-especially if they're jerks to begin with. England is a protective papa...and a delinquent which results in Action!Arthur. British slang. Limited knowledge of the UK's public transport system and London City Airport. Shameless use of quotes from my other fic Wendigo-cuz why write something if you can't copy and paste some bits now and again. Copious amount of FLUFF in this chap-be sure to chew it carefully, we don't want anyone choking. It is illegal to bring meat into the U.K. from another country (pretty much the case for most countries). People make snap judgments over wardrobe choices. Various tidbits (hopefully somewhat accurate) regarding British Airways and their Skyflyer Solo Program for minors. Brief mention of NSPCC (National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children). The fandom seems to have named England's cat: Camelot Fitzpatrick Kirkland III (and who am I to disagree with that wonderfully pompous, long winded name :D)

AN: Thank you for your reviews! I'm glad you've enjoyed thus far! Know that I read and reread your guys' comments for inspiration. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: Like A Cow With A Bell


Arthur cheered with the crowd as the next song started.

It was always so important to schedule time for one's hobbies.

He'd often found it especially prudent to indulge the rougher side of himself before he played host to his former colonies.

Yes. He needed this:

One last well-earned-alcohol-infused-hurrah before he was swept under a wave of familial drama and paternal responsibility. After all, as a colonizer he'd found, that he was only as happy as his least happy colony. And it was almost like a pact among the children for one of them to act up when they all got together under one roof.

Still, he felt his heart warm at the thought of seeing all of their faces at once. Well...not all...alas, like Spain, he had quite a few that thought of him...less than fondly. But no one sent back his holiday cards...any more. And quite a few that weren't staying with him for the holiday were still stopping by on the night of the ball.

He tried to content himself with that. Hopefully, he'd get to see Kenya, Malaysia, Singapore, and India then.

Still...

Even with only ten or so of them lodging with him (he suppressed the melancholy sigh at the small turnout-reminding himself that the ones that weren't attending were adults now...they were allowed to make their own traditions and spend their time however they saw fit), it could still be a challenge. He'd learnt long ago with Australia that age did not necessarily mean maturity. So naturally, it would take all four Kirkland brothers to keep the children toeing the line-respecting one another's cultural differences, moving past historical disputes, and...not hiding the helmets of Arthur's suits of armor.

Oh yes, he took a deep gulp of ale. He needed this night off. To drink until he was near legless, to whoop until he was hoarse, to-

His phone vibrated again...he'd told himself before going out tonight-that he wasn't going to answer until the concert was over.

That he deserved personal time.

It vibrated once more.

Bugger. He'd specifically told Parliament not to bother him unless it was dire. Did he forget to sign something off? Could it really not wait?

He answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Wot?" He answered irritatedly.

"Oh! Ummm...I..."

The rest of the sentence was drowned out by the crowd's roar of approval.

"What?" he repeated as he pushed past the crowd of dancing bodies to step out into the lobby.

Dammit, this better be good-there was a really wicked guitar solo he was missing out on.

He tapped an impatient foot, boredly watching a flickering fluorescent light overhead.

"What is it? Say it again."

"A-are you okay?" a worried little voice asked.

He almost dropped his beer. He leaned against the wall to steady himself.

"Alfred, yes, yes. What's wrong, poppet?"

"I...I've been trying to call you for a while...I...was scar-concerned that-that something happened to you."

Scared...

He felt his heart squeeze at the frightened tone and guilt seeped in where his annoyance had been.

'For a while…'

"No pet, I'm alright." Did he have a bad dream or something? He checked his watch. Let's see if it was 23:30 hours here then...wait...no, that didn't make any sense.

"...then...then where ARE you? I-"

"What do you mean 'where am I-"

"I can't keep Americat in his cage much longer. If I do there'll be consequences! He'll revenge-pee on everything!"

Arthur felt his eyebrows twitch as a horrible sinking feeling of intuition settled.

Five days. He was five days early. He'd wrote it down, emailed him, made him repeat it several times.

"You were supposed to arrive on the 8th…"

"No, you said...I've got it right here and...oh...OH...oh no...I got frosting on your paper...we had cinnamon rolls a couple of days ago...and...made it look like a three…"

Arthur took a deep cleansing breath and ran a hand through his hair, "Alfred, are you at the airport?"

"..."

"Alfred?" So much for his night to himself.

"...heh heh heh, s'okay...s'okay...hero can figure something out. I-I'll see you on the 8th as agreed. S-sorry to interrupt. Bye."

"Alfr-"

The line went dead.

Arthur blinked and immediately redialed him.

"O-oh hey, um...how are you? Ha...heh...um..."

"Are you waiting at London City Airport?"

"...y-yeah..."

Damnation. He checked his watch! Damnation, he'd have to hurry if he was going to catch the last Tube service over. Had to hurry before the airport carted Alfred off to God-Knows-Where out of fear of parental neglect!

"I'm on my way. Don't wander off."

He ended the call and slipped the phone back in his denim pocket.

"Art?" Molly (who hated her name and always seemed to be asking others for their input on what she ought to change it to, but never actually went through with it and thus remained Molly) asked. "Art, wot chu doin' out here?"

Her current beau (she seemed to have a new one every concert) sauntered up and slid an arm around her shoulders.

"You alright?" Piers asked taking a gulp from his plastic cup, "Not spewing already? We barely even start-"

Molly giggled a bit embarrassedly and Arthur felt himself flush. Last year found both blonds sharing a bin after indulging a bit too heavily. He wondered idly if she'd shared that story.

Humans. Sometimes it seemed impossible not to forge some sort of bond with them. Meet up at enough concerts and before you knew it...well...he wouldn't go so far as to call them mates but...friendly acquaintances with a mutual appreciation for punk rock. In a few years (when his lack of aging became apparent), he'd need to lie low.

"Something's come up" Arthur bit out tersely.

"Can't it wait? You'll be missing out."

Yes. He knew. Arthur set his cup down on the wobbly nearby bench-fighting a desperate urge to knock it back and ease the frustration he was feeling.

"Artie?" Eva called as she entered the lobby, one hand sweeping her neon red fringe out of her face, "Why'd you rush out? Somethin' the matter? Wha's all this, fer? Having a bloody conference? Why's everyone out here?"

Jasper followed at a few paces behind-eyes fixed on her. Poor git had been after her for ages-not that she seemed to notice. She had higher standards than the likes of him. Arthur approved; she could do much better than that idgit. His opinion might've been influenced by the fact that he and Jasper just...didn't get on well. Perhaps, it had something to do with his hair; anything that reminded him of his brothers tended to irritate him.

As a nation, he was obligated to care about the wellbeing of all of his citizens...regardless of how obnoxious they could be. But as a man, there were more than a few he'd love to have a round of fisticuffs with.

Arthur sighed, "There was a...mix up. My kid arrived at the airport early and I must-"

"...you have a kid?" Jasper laughed.

Arthur stiffened at the incredulous tone and their snickers. What business of it was theirs to know he had a child anyway? And why such surprise?

He was the British Empire! He was a paragon of masculine strength and virility!

"I mean, god how old is he?"

"Yeh gotta a picture?" Eva asked with interest. "On yer phone, yeh've a picture?"

"Must be going" He muttered. Wallet check. Phone check. Watch check.

"Jesus, what year of secondary school did you have him?"

His fists clenched and he turned on his heel.

"Aww come on Artie, I wanna see the lil' fellow-"

"Ugh, child support must suck-" Piers chuckled until Molly elbowed him.

"Betcha wish you'd known how to use the johnnie properly right?" Jasper laughed again and gave him a hard shove. "Or were you so lagered you-"

The rushing sound in his ears grew louder as his face heated up with anger.

More laughter sounded and-

'Saunee says we aren't a s'posed to have families.'

Unbidden, memories of a barefoot Roanoke with sad blue-green eyes shivering in the cold flitted through his mind's eye.

His bright blue eyes crinkled in a sad, sincere smile: 'I'll love you in every lifetime I have…'

Arthur gently brushed Alfred's fringe out of his eyes and Alfred leaned in lightly to the touch.

"My heart would never again know the frigid hold of loneliness if I could hear the warmth of your voice at all hours."

"Guess ya couldn't convince the bird to save yourselves an 18 year commit-"

He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him hard into the wall of the lobby-loosening bits of plaster, "Belt the fuck up, you stupid wanker!"

There were several cries of dismay and "easy now!"

"The fuck is with you?" Jasper hissed.

Eva rested a long-nailed hand on his shoulder, "Jasper's just bein' hisself; a rotter, Artie let him go."

Arthur gave him a rough shake, "You don't talk about my boy that way. You keep your goddamned trap SHUT about my son. "

He released him with a hard push that knocked him into Piers.

"Art..hur?" Molly mumbled.

"Touchy" Piers mumbled, helping Jasper right himself and tugging him and Molly back toward the concert.

"S'alright" Eva assured even as Arthur made the exit.

God. He ran a hand through his hair-torn between feeling satisfied and disgusted with himself. And a bit disappointed-though whether it was for taking such a violent action or not being violent enough...he couldn't tell.

"I got a little girl meself!" she called after him. "She's four. Oi! Tell him 'ello from me, won't you? I'll 'spect details at the next concert!"


Alfred pushed a bit of beef jerky through one of the small square holes on the front of Americat's carrier.

He glanced over at Martha-an airport worker in her late twenties who was currently on her cell phone explaining to her boyfriend why she was running late.

He gave her kudos points for trying to stay professional, but she should've been off two hours ago and frustration was beginning to color her tone.

Alfred appreciated the effort though.

When it became clear that he didn't have a guardian to be handed off to, he'd been shuffled among various attendants as the hours passed.

Only a call to the American Embassy, who got in contact with Arthur's assistants and who gave the airport a special little phone call kept the police and NSPCC from being involved.

It did however pique all the humans' interest in him.

Naturally being British, they guarded their surprise and curiosity pretty well...except that they'd stare at him a beat too long.

No doubt wondering who the hell he was related to and what connections that person had.

Aside from all the drama and frustration, they'd been pretty nice; one guy, Tom, had ran down to Pret A-something and gotten him a sandwich for dinner. Didn't even let him pay. And he tried! Twice!

The roughest part of it all was the whole thing could've been avoided if he'd just flown on some other airline or jet or something. It was hard to believe none of his military aircraft were passing by. Dude, he could've easily been dropped off somewhere (maybe even parachuted...though Americat would've been unhappy) and hoofed his way over.

Admittedly, Alfred should've done more research and found an airline that didn't bother with the whole 'oh noes, he's a minor' business.

But Arthur was pretty fond of British Airways.

And so, Alfred had his assistants coordinate with Arthur's to make his arrangements.

He'd had no idea until it was too late that he couldn't escape the Skyflyer Solo Program. Apparently, being seven (and sadly looking younger than that) meant the world suddenly doubted his abilities to safely transport himself between countries.

And he had to wear a big ol' identification tag around his neck.

Like a cow with a bell.

Notice me. Herd me. Feed me.

He glanced over to where Martha was chatting and staring longingly out towards the window.

Ignore me.

Americat gobbled up the last bit of jerky America was holding.

Which was was for the best, otherwise Martha would wonder where he got it, which would lead to shock and anger and surprise that Customs hadn't separated him from his stash of U.S. meat.

Which would no doubt get back to Arthur eventually, and then there'd be more things to get upset about.

He really didn't need that.

He ran a hand through his hair-frustrated with himself.

Messing up his arrival date by five days.

Five days. He was five friggin' days early.

Crap.

He felt like such an idiot. He was already ruining Operation: Reconciliation/GoGo Magic Hogwarts! And he wasn't even out of the gate yet!

And when he'd finally got a hold of Arthur…

He'd sounded so...annoyed.

Not that he blamed him.

He had that 'America-I'm-terribly-busy-and-you're-being-a-hindrance' tone and this fiasco wasn't gonna help things.

Stupid flyer program.

There'd been forms he'd had to fill out 48 hours prior. Forms before he boarded. And no doubt there'd be forms to get him released into Arthur's care.

He totally understood the legal issues surrounding everything but…

God, he was so tempted to just bumrush his way out.

But now that Arthur was coming...he really had to stay put.

He should also try and stock up on Coke cans, because it'd be easier to smuggle soda into Arthur's house through his luggage than on the grocery conveyor belt.

He rubbed his eyes; he might just need to get one right now for his own sake if he was gonna stay awake.

And staying awake was uberly important, since that one creepy guy was still hanging around.

He'd noticed him about an hour or so ago.

Alfred wasn't sure what it was about him that was so unsettling.

It was winter; so long coats were the norm and he was pale because….well, England and the sun had a spotty relationship.

But the dude was...kinda grey.

Not that he was against greyness.

Tony was one of his besties and he was grey...but he was alien-from-outer-space grey.

And this guy was creepy-drowning-victim-purple grey

He kept telling himself that dreary weather did that to some people but...

Maybe it was lingering paranoia on his part (though getting kidnapped, held hostage and nearly fed to wendigo kinda did that to ya) but ever since he'd stepped out of the plane, he'd felt a weird awareness. Kinda like he was surrounded by fog which made the whole place seem scary and mysterious.

It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end from time to time.

And for a time there he'd gotten really jumpy when he couldn't get a hold of Arthur, and he didn't know if his old man was in trouble, and he was stuck here in airport limbo, and it seemed that the creepy gray guy got closer each time Alfred had looked for him.

Tentatively, Alfred scanned around.

CRAP!

Less than twenty feet.

Eeeeep.

The worst part of all was that Martha was too PC to notice his creepiness. When he told her about the dude, she scolded him for labeling anyone as a "creeper."

He reached a hand into his Captain America backpack and rubbed one of Hop's floppy cloth ears for good luck.


Arthur swiftly decided that the brisk night air was good…very good against his rage-flushed skin. Calming.

And he was lucky. Very lucky...that this wasn't a mainstream concert, or his little outburst would've been met with a lot more consequence.

As it was, he still had to outrun two guards (who'd witnessed his actions from afar), climb a chain link fence, and hide in an alley for several moments longer than he liked. Not good. Not when he was running on a tight schedule.

While riding the tube over to the airport, his mind buzzed like a hornet's nest.

Illegitimate. Unwanted. An accident. No, worse. A mistake. To insinuate that-that-that he didn't want him-just-

Stupid wanker!

His nostrils flared.

It didn't matter that "bastard" didn't hold the same awful potency of insult that it used to.

The fact that he said it-implied it...Let alone what he'd insinuated about Alfred's value to him…

God.

Sickening.

As if someone's child was ever an appropriate target for such cruel remarks.

Arthur's nails bit into the flesh of his palm-he'd lived through eras where lineage meant everything. Days where a surname could be the difference between having a home or wandering the streets.

He'd seen firsthand the messes that could be made in households, in wills, in lines of succession...

Illegitimate…

Arthur hadn't been there for his birth...that was true….but…it wasn't to say that he was-was a…

Yes. They'd gotten their fair share of gossip by the colonists. Usually, whenever one of them grew particularly nosy, he'd drop a less than subtle hint on the demise of "Lady Kirkland" via childbed.

He blinked. Damnation. What story should he go with now? He hadn't really given the matter much thought.

Alfred didn't have his last name anymore either…

What would people think when they saw their differing last names?

It made his insides twist painfully.

Would they think it was the mother's maiden name? That he and the supposed 'bearer of his child' had never been married? Or perhaps it was the surname of her new spouse.

He didn't really like any of those options…

Still, he supposed a somewhat believable story would be…

He sighed.

That he'd had a fling with an American exchange student...in secondary school. They'd kept the baby, but their relationship didn't last and...they lived in different countries. Blah blah blah, young love or lust-whatever.

It would be assumed from the fact that Alfred had a very noticeable accent that he was "visiting" the U.K. and that she had full custody. Arthur got to have him over for certain holidays and whatnot.

People would also assume from his lack of a significant other, that he was still enamored with her.

God. How tragic. It sounded like the opening to one of those American Lifetime Channel Movies. (He really had watched entirely too much telly during his stay in the U.S.)

Hmmm...

Maybe...keep the first bit, and add the 'death via childbed' lest people pester him for details or pictures or whatever.

Hmm…

Except that wouldn't explain why Alfred wasn't living with him to begin with!

Unless!

He was adopted by her family!

Yes! Yes, that would work! He could even sell Momilani as Alfred's grandmother! Momilani...Jones…?

He blinked...though...Alfred didn't look Hawaiian in the slightest.

He shrugged it off. Alfred didn't look like Iroquois either.

He took entirely after him in the genetics template! And if anyone inquired about it that's what he'd say: "Alfred looks like his Daddy."

With that backstory crisis handled, he listened to the slew of messages Alfred had left on his phone-hearing the voice go from bored to annoyed to worried to scared.

Poor lamb.

"I-I called my embassy and they connected me to your office, but they already said you'd left...you're okay...right? Maybe...you've just got a low battery, right? Or you're in a tunnel? Or-or-um...Please call me back."

Hours.

He'd been waiting for hours!

And Arthur had received messages. Messages! Not ill-typed texts! It made his heart flutter.

His assistants and the American Embassy had also left him urgent voicemail-regarding America's situation.

A small eternity later he was power-walking into the terminal building (he didn't want to frighten security) and over to the nearest desk-breathlessly informing the receptionist that he was Arthur Kirkland and he needed to pick up his son.

He hastily filled out the paperwork releasing Alfred and the woman made a quick call.

Soon after, he heard the rolling of a heavy suitcase and there….

There.

His son.

Blue eyes brightened as they focused on him.

The child sprang forward, causing the cat to slide roughly in its carrier with a shocked yelp.

"Thank God you're here!" the child declared as he slid to a stop in front of him.

The bright smile lifted his spirits. Jasper could go jump off London Bridge. Arthur was happy to be reunited with his boy regardless of the circumstances.

"I have to pee so bad" Alfred whined.

And the good feeling dampened a bit.

"Ah, Mr. Kirkland" the second woman greeted a bit woodenly-eyes roving over his ensemble.

God.

He felt his face heat up intolerably. Unfortunate connotations involving stereotypes, lifestyle choices, narcissism, and poor parenting were made.

"Sorry. Terribly sorry for the inconvenience" Arthur apologized embarrassed. "Bit of a mix up. Thank you for watching over him."

There was an urgent tug on his trousers, "Daaaad."

The woman gave an amused smile and a pleasant "goodbye" to Alfred, a cold unimpressed look to Arthur, and then went on her way.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, took over the handle of the rolling suitcase, and then beckoned for Alfred to follow.

"Alfred...I'm certain you could've just asked her to watch Americat while you headed to the loo." And even if he hadn't, Arthur knew from firsthand experience that the cat was far too heavy to make off with easily.

"Huh? No...it wasn't that...it's just that...that dude in the trench coat keeps watching me."

Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes.

Was he going through another spy phase? The child had always been totally enamored with James Bond movies. And while he was pleased that Alfred appreciated the character-he wished he wouldn't try to emulate him.

"Oh really? And what sinister thing is he up to?" Arthur inquired indulgently. He half-expected a ridiculous answer possibly inspired by that horrid Austin Powers movie.

"Well…" the boy murmured quietly "...he's following us right now."

Arthur immediately stopped and looked behind him.

He blinked looking over to see...well true enough, there was a man in a long coat at least forty paces behind them.

Following...

Though...he appeared to be reading a magazine: Woman's Weekly? Perhaps there was a good recipe in there. He'd check the next time he visited the newsstand. It got him thinking. Why, he hadn't gotten to purchase a Simply Knitting magazine in ages. And with Alfred's young form…

Delight flooded him. O there were an array of fun patterns he could use now! And Alfred always got cold so easily, he'd be sure to wear them! Unlike Wy who didn't appreciate how many ruffles he put on items he made for her and Sealand who loved his sailor uniform too much to cover it with a cardigan.

"The creeper...creepin' on me."

"Alfred" he sighed. The child did always have a tendency to exaggerate things and believe the world revolved around him. That everyone everywhere had their eye on him-though in this particularly case there might've been some truth to it. Goodness, how could he fail to draw attention on himself trotting about as he was?

Arthur felt his eye twitch.

The pet carrier (a bright shiny silver) was strapped haphazardly (with a neon orange jump rope?) to an overly large rolling suitcase that was colored like the American flag. The suitcase had various baubles dangling from it's zippers.

And then there was Alfred and his current outfit; the denims and the bright grass green shirt were acceptable (though a more muted emerald green would've suited the season better). He'd even let the childish, laminated Captain America rucksack slide (because of America's age).

No. The deal breaker was the slick, bright yellow raincoat, hat, and matching wellies he was wearing.

Noticing Arthur's gaze, he shrugged "Cuz it's so rainy here…"

Except it wasn't raining now. Surprisingly warm for the season actually.

"...and I wanted to save luggage space. Anyways…" Alfred scuffed a shoe on the floor "maybe yeah...it's just my mind playing tricks...could be coincidence...but...he started to follow me both times I made for the restroom."

"..." That got Arthur's hackles to rise. He directed a fierce glare at the man who, damn it Alfred was right, was watching them.

Venomous green eyes narrowed aggressively.

The man abruptly took a right and moved further away from them, but the way he moved was odd…

Stilted…

Like his joints didn't move quite…right...

"Dad."

Very odd…

"Daaaaaad."

Unsettling...

"Ahhhhhhh, I gotta gooooo" Alfred whinged dramatically, wringing his hands and crossing his legs.

"Righto! Come along," He took the luggage handle in one hand and snagged his child's arm in the other, "the sooner you relieve yourself, the sooner we can be off."


Arthur was quietly cursing the weight of the suitcase as he pulled it along.

Good God, what had the child packed? And how much extra money had he paid to transport it? Absurd. He better not have brought 10 kilograms-worth of video game paraphernalia nestled in there.

He glanced behind him to find Alfred dragging his feet.

He frowned.

"Alfred" he warned; he did not have the patience for a sulking boy at this late hour.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur sighed, "Well then hop to it. Come on now. One two, one-"

"H-huh?" his head snapped up with a confused expression. "F-for...messing up, I mean. I-I really thought today was…"

Oh…

Alfred released a frustrated breath, chewed on his bottom lip, and looked hesitantly up at Arthur.

Oh...

Arthur waved a dismissive hand.

Was it inconvenient, to suddenly have his plans turn topsy turvy despite his earnest attempts to maintain some semblance of order?

Yes.

Was it a bit exasperating to have his child suddenly appear before Arthur had the house tidied or the groceries bought or the final preparations for the country estate done with?

Perhaps.

Was it an unworkable situation?

No. Not by any means. It simply meant that Alfred would need to accompany him on some of the tasks he needed to accomplish over the next few days.

And he said so-commenting that poor Alfred would now be his official assistant in his preparations for their winter holiday by arriving so early and that it'd be a good opportunity for Alfred to repay the copious amounts of housework Arthur had done for him over the past few months. He'd expected a groan about exploitation and guilt tripping and was a bit concerned when he received a subdued, "...kay."

He immediately shortened the gap between them and rested his hand on the child's head.

"You did the right thing" he assured "I'm glad you called me and that you didn't run off when the situation became...troublesome."

"...I thought about it" Alfred admitted "But I didn't wanna make a bunch of extra work for the airport workers and the police officers by setting off an Amber Alert."

"Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't answer sooner" he ran a hand through the soft hair "Have you eaten?"

Alfred nodded and described the sandwich in more detail than was strictly necessary for a simple "Yes" or "No" question.

And perhaps Arthur imagined it, but it seemed like Alfred held his hand a bit tighter after that and Arthur didn't need to remind him to stay close when they exited the airport and he began signalling a taxicab over.

The air of woeful contriteness wore off completely as the vehicle sped along.

It was as Arthur sat back-worrying over the adult seat belt strapped across Alfred's torso-that he realized he was the sole focus of Alfred's attention.

Seated beside his father and back to his usual self, he became increasingly interested in Arthur's apparel.

Typical.

Alfred had been so invested in his own gloom he couldn't process anything around him. O the "travesty" of making an honest mistake. He'd seemed ready to fall upon his sword a few moments ago.

So dramatic.

Silly thing.

And now that his fears (almost comically blown out of proportion) were set to rest; he once again became perky and dangerously curious. He pulled at the seat belt to stretch it, so he could better face his father-prompting an immediate scolding to sit back properly for his safety.

Arthur's mistake had been pressing Alfred gently back into place and rearranging the belt to lie correctly.

He hadn't realized that his hands were what had caught Alfred's eye and Alfred latched onto them gleefully.

Bugger, he really should've removed the jewelry in his jaunt over. God, he looked ridiculous. Those airport workers would no doubt tell all of their coworkers what a terrible father 'Mr. Kirkland' was-too busy having a nightlife to bother picking his child up in a timely manner.

"You're dressed so cool" Alfred admired-snapping a few of the bracelets. The little fingers immediately began exploring the rings on Arthur's fingers. Arthur felt a little annoyed as one was was outright plucked from his finger-so Alfred could better ogle it.

So help him, if he dropped that sapphire ring in the darkness of the cab's floorboard...

The boy tried it on several fingers before coming to the disappointing realization that all of his fingers were much too small.

Which killed his enthusiasm stone dead...and the ring was swiftly pushed back into Arthur's hands.

Both hands quit their pursuit, laced themselves together, and retreated to lay reservedly in Alfred's lap.

Arthur sighed and removed an old signet ring from his left little finger. Birds usually commented on it for being so "vintage."

He wondered idly if Alfred would even recognize it; it was an old, heavy iron thing.

Ages ago, it seemed that he was constantly having to fish it out of the boy's collection of toys.

He slid it onto Alfred's thumb-where it was still too large but a closer fit than the other ring by far.

Alfred admired it in the in light of the intersection-fingers rubbing across it.

"Why don't you dress for more meetings like this?"

He balked at the idea. While he occasionally came in a leather jacket and bandanna on casual meeting days, there was no way he'd come dressed in concert gear.

No. He was a gentleman even when he was dressed in such trappings as this.

"Of-of course not-that's absurd-completely unprofessional-"

"You don't dress like this when you visit me either. You..." Apparently the child had an unhappy epiphany and sat back-cheeks puffing as he fumed, "You...you do fun stuff when I'm not around!"

He fully expected the ring to be chucked at his head, and was surprised when the boy held it closer.

He shook his head; he would be needing that back eventually.

Thankfully the late hour and jet lag soon dissipated the child's anger and before long he was leaning against Arthur. By the time they arrived at the house, his eyelids were drooping and he yawned every few minutes.

Arthur paid the driver, moved the luggage out, and lifted the tired child up into his arms. Once Alfred was balanced on his hip, he pulled the rolling luggage with his free hand.

He was shocked that his actions weren't met with violent protest. Usually, Alfred would insist on doing everything and would've dragged himself and his luggage up the stairs even if it killed him. Perhaps this was a happy side effect of their reconciliation? Perhaps, Alfred would no longer rail against every action he took in regards to him and would defer to him more often?

Arthur was still proud the child had patiently waited (for several hours) for him to arrive at the airport rather than trying to pull something foolhardy.

"You smell funny" the child informed him sleepily as he buried his cold nose in Arthur's neck, the iron ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

Alas, considering where he'd been and the substances his fellow concert-goers had been partaking in, he was certain he did. A quick shower would be in order after he introduced Americat to Camelot's litter box.

Alfred sighed and mumbled into his shoulder, "I'm glad you're okay. I was worried something bad happened to you. That it was your turn now..."

Arthur kissed his cheek, "Everything's alright, love."

True, it wasn't the stress free evening he'd envisioned for himself at all. Running out on a concert he'd been looking forward to, nearly getting into a brawl, once again being dragged into the eye of the storm that was Alfred F. Kirk...Jones? Kirkland.

Later, as he toweled his hair off, he contemplated Alfred's passed out form on the bed: He'd barely managed to change into his pajamas (the shirt was on backwards) before he'd slumped in exhaustion. Oddly enough he still had one welly on.

Arthur gently removed it and set about getting the boy tucked in properly.

Arthur had figured it made more sense to share his bed for the night. The guest room's linens needed to be changed and it was too late at night to go to so much trouble….

Besides, if Alfred did experience a night terror he'd be right there.

Arthur smoothed the rumpled sleeve of his own pajama shirt and finished turning the lights off-leaving just one dim one on for America on the off chance he awoke and felt disoriented.

As he slid under the covers, he caught sight of Hop held tightly in Alfred's left hand. No sooner had Arthur settled in, the child wriggled closer-instinctively seeking out warmth.

He took that moment to gently remove the ring from Alfred's other hand and set it on the bedside table.

The now empty little hand sought new conquest: and would've satisfied itself with a handful of Arthur's pajamas had Arthur not intervened. He gently took the hand in his own and gave it a light squeeze.

No; not quite the festive night he had planned, but he wouldn't write it off as bad per se.

Arthur yawned as Alfred's face pressed into his shirt and he realized that Alfred had flung Hop atop of him. The stuffed animal was now laying splayed across his shoulder-nearly nose to nose with the Englishman.

He gave a soft chuckle as he recalled countless other nights where this was the norm.

Yes.

It was just another night of being a father.

"You have a kid?"

Why yes. Yes, he did.

Said kid sighed happily as Arthur bid him goodnight.


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