Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or . Or Google-Translate. Or Radiohead and their song "Creep." Or Sir Gawain and The Green Knight. Or Disney's Pixie Hollow franchise. Or Eagles.
Warning: Some profanity! Some stereotypes. Some OCs for sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, and grammatically). Hunters vs. Hunt Saboteurs in the U.K. Brief 9/11 reference. Two finger salute-in the U.S.-an acceptable quirky send off gesture...in the U.K…still the middle finger (just...apparently hanging out with a friend). Baseball vs Golf terminology. Finnish spelling: Timo. Kids subconsciously think that their parent is superior to other adults in an array of abilities. Don't mess with America's sugar intake-it never ends well. Fluff. Creepy throw away references to rather scary fae. Tsunderes and their interactions with other tsunderes.
AN: Thank you for your reviews! Glad you guys have been enjoying it thus far. To one anonymous reviewer on England's view of America's success: I agree; it's more than luck, but his Empire ego seems to be clouding his vision.
Chapter 12: Affection Ninja
Scotland yawned and stretched-staring blearily at the clock on his bedside table.
A solid eight hours. He'd needed it.
Following his tirade, Arthur had a raised an eyebrow and point blank asked, "And what am I to do about that? They do as they will. The cold will come and when it does, they'll retreat back into their kingdoms for the rest of the winter."
He then dragged Scotland with more strength than Alistair liked to acknowledge to the guestroom.
"Now sleep that horrid mood off."
The sight of a bed was too beautiful, and sleep too heavenly a possibility for him to let the chance pass him by.
He glanced around as he cracked his wrists and knuckles: there wasn't any cat equipment-thus, confirming his long held suspicion that Arthur moved those in here whenever he was expecting him.
As he emerged into the now darkened house, stomach rumbling with hunger, he found Arthur stretched out on the couch watching the weather forecast.
Alfred was asleep; cuddled between his father and the back pillow-giving him no chance of rolling off.
"We've already eaten; go make yourself something" his brother declared imperiously.
Alistair scoured the pantry and settled for some curry flavored instant noodles. Rather than eating at the table, he came back into the lounge
Arthur glared, "If you make a mess-"
Scotland rolled his eyes and made some obnoxious slurps.
Arthur gave him a dirty look while he pulled a blanket off the top of the couch-careful not to jostle Alfred as he draped it over them. He used an edge to gently dab at the drool dribbling down Alfred's chin.
While the weatherman droned on about the unusually mild winter temperatures they were experiencing, Arthur took to petting his child's hair.
"Not worried at all about them stealing off with little 'uns?" Alistair asked pointedly.
Arthur paused and glowered, "They don't target them anymore."
"So tha's how ya sleep at night."
With Changelings and Redcaps wandering about, the latter of which were getting bolder now that fewer people were frequenting their castles and they needed to keep their dyes fresh, they really couldn't afford to turn a blind eye.
It was troublesome enough to have to deal with them in the height of their power through spring and summer. Usually autumn saw them tapering off in retreat to their respective kingdoms to escape the approaching cold; resulting in a highly reduced number of magical incidents. Sure, there were a few winter fae that came out specially for the snow and creatures like banshees and wights were never affected by the changing seasons...but it was the warm weather fae that had a greater penchant for mischief...at least in their lands.
From what he'd seen over the years, Norway's trolls' activities weren't really affected by any season at all.
Alistair looked back over to find Arthur had returned his attentions to Alfred.
Dammit, Arthur needed to focus! They'd need to appeal to the courts to do something about their erring subjects and quickly. Though knowing their mischievous streaks; an appeal before either ruler could last days as they jumbled one's sense of time-no doubt Arthur didn't want to bother with it all since he would soon have company over and he couldn't afford to simply vanish for a week or more.
Still, just because it was inconvenient-didn't mean it could be ignored.
Fine.
He took another bite.
Fine. If Alistair couldn't appeal to his nation side via logic, he'd aim for the soft underbelly of his human side.
"For Alfred's sake, I hope you're right."
Arthur immediately held the child tighter.
A direct hit.
Good. Get him worried about it.
Because while Alistair was fairly sure the Boaban Sith wouldn't dabble with Alfred (his child form wouldn't provide much of a meal), a kelpie would find it good sport to lure him into its loch.
Alistair continued, "Still...I'm surprised at you. It doesn't sound like you're equally concerned about your other citizens."
"Well, people shouldn't be gallivanting about in woods and parks at the witching hour anyway" Arthur grumbled as he swept Alfred's fringe out of his face. "If they were at home, safe in their beds like the rest of us-they wouldn't have any chance of stumbling into an active fairy ring."
"So nothing. You intend to do nothing-"
"Time for bed" Arthur muttered curtly as he carefully picked his son up. "Reilley will be here in the morning, they're going golfing. I suggest you go. And I advise you use the rest of tonight to think up a suitable apology. Alfred was quite upset by your behavior earlier."
Great. That was the downside of Arthur's "father mode;" he actively tried to parent everyone.
"Or else what?"
Arthur gave him a cold look and then smirked, "Or perhaps your fae visitors will become roommates when I tell them how lonely you've been."
"You wouldn't dare-"
"Goodnight" He enunciated harshly-deliberately turning lights off as he went.
Maybe Alistair had spent too many centuries as the Bearer of Bad News for Arthur. Maybe the role of messenger needed a fresh face with baby fat and big blue eyes.
In the glow of the television set, Alistair finished off his meager dinner and plotted on how to recruit his nephew to his cause.
Alfred gripped the wheel more tightly-trying not to let Scotland's wet blanket attitude bother him. Something was up with him beyond sleep debt.
His Scottish uncle was now several holes or greens or whatever behind because he wouldn't ride with them in the golf cart while Alfred was at the wheel.
Yeah, his driving skills weren't...super. For him to hold the steering wheel and press the gas pedal required stretching in such a way that he couldn't see very well over the dashboard.
And it wasn't his fault that Reilley was a lousy navigator. His uncle kept his eyes squeezed shut during most of it and he was too busy alternating between cursing in Gaelic and praying in English to bother telling Alfred "left" or "right" or "watch out for the sand trap."
The last one would've been really helpful-they probably wouldn't tipped over if he'd known it was so close...and if he hadn't made such a hard left.
Yeah…
It wasn't long before security came and escorted them out.
While camped out in the car, waiting for Alistair to finish up his game, Alfred's phone rang.
"Hey Dad!" he chirped as he tried to open a Double Decker candybar one handed. Reilley offered him a soda. His uncle was awesome and had already agreed to bring him soda and candy over the course of his "holiday" with them. The caveat being that should America ask him for alcohol or coffee-the smuggling operation would end.
Really, they were just harming themselves; an America without sugar, caffeine, and alcohol became a rebellious, spiteful, grouch.
That was another reason his government kept his food supplies stocked when he went overseas for missions.
"Hello! Alright there?"
"Yes."
"Having fun?"
"...yeah...but my line drive wasn't as impressive as it used to be…"
"...Long drive?"
"Hmm."
"But you're still having fun? They're treating you well?"
"Uh huh."
As well as his uncles were gonna treat him.
Yeah, they were old. So...they were always gonna be at least a little cranky. They swore and shoved and complained a bunch and each respectively either smelled of a blend of aftershave and cigarettes or aftershave and alcohol. Smells he'd come to associate with bachelor unclehood. But he'd come to accept all that years ago.
Naturally they weren't gonna be as mushy and parental as Arthur.
Geez, just that morning the old man kissed him on the cheek as a farewell before he took off for work.
He felt his cheeks warm at the memory. He'd done it right there in front of his uncles and everything!
Plus, there was their magic lesson...
'Knot of Fourhearts...Familial love...'
'...Everlasting...'
And the fact that he'd given the bookmark with that symbol to Alfred before…
Before his downsizing...
Before his capture...
Before everything got soap opera-y…
Dude…
A bookmark…
A bookmark!
A bookmark that pretty much said: 'I'll love you forever' in England-speak.
America shook his head embarrassedly; Geez England, you affection ninja-what other stealthy moves have you made through the ages that I...that I haven't noticed?
Arthur was being obvious now (thinking their differences were put aside) but how many little clues had Alfred missed?
"They're behaving themselves?"
"Yup, we're having fun" Alfred assured-and they were...kinda; in that forced-familial-bonding sort of way.
It wasn't their fault. The three of them couldn't visit a pub now, which kinda limited the amount of fun activities they could do that would make everyone happy.
"If they don't treat you well, you tell me. Understand?"
He blinked at the hard tone. Before he could swallow it down, an uncharacteristically obedient "Yes sir" escaped him.
"Good."
He was kinda surprised he was even calling. They were gonna see him for lunch and then Alfred was gonna chill in Arthur's office again. Hopefully, the ghosts wouldn't attack. It made him jittery thinking about it.
"Is one of them nearby?"
"Yeah."
"May I speak with him?"
"Kay. Please hold while I transfer your call" he handed the phone to Reilly who raised a large eyebrow at him.
Whoops. Yeah, he'd been one of the few male switchboard operators back in the '20s. At least until, he'd been informed that despite his courteous manners-female voices were just more pleasant to the ear than his and he was let go.
"Yes...Yes. I know. No. Aye. Hmm. Aye. Well don't get your knickers in a twist. He's fine. 'Course he's fine. Yes. Yes. We'll see ya then and not a moment sooner ya worrywort."
He then ended the call and handed it back to Alfred.
No sooner was it in hand that it vibrated and rang with an incoming call.
It was Arthur again, who sounded rather flustered, and insisted that they hadn't had a "proper" goodbye.
It was the sort of thing Alfred and Tex did when their phone calls with one another got cut short from low battery. They usually immediately redialed one another on a landline. In fact, they sometimes did it at the exact same time and got a "busy" signal. Eventually this prompted them to set up a system. Alfred usually went first (since Alfred came before Texas alphabetically) and if he couldn't get through-he needed to count to twelve before trying again (which would give Tex a chance to dial).
It was important to them; ensuring that nothing bad had happened to the other and to make a habit of saying "I love you" before they hung up. Because ya just never knew when one of you was going to be ambushed by highwaymen, or have your submarine sunk, or be crushed in a falling World Trade Center.
"I'll see you later dear. Mind your uncles...unless they're being ridiculous. Remember to say 'please' if you need to ask anyone for assistance."
Alfred rolled his eyes. Yup, he answered the phone for this.
"Use the crosswalks. Don't spoil your appetite; yes, I can hear you snacking on something. Try not to soil your outfit."
Alfred surreptitiously tried to brush some more of the lingering sand-trap sand out of the creases of his clothes.
"Don't linger on the right hand side of walkways-it's different here. Don't wander off. Be courteous to my police officers and for God's sake don't two finger salute them. And-and...I'll...see you soon. I love you." There was a pause and then the call ended.
Alfred noted belatedly, as his face burned, that the pause had been space for him to echo the statement back.
It's just…
He wasn't expecting it-knowing that England was at work (he could hear office workers bustling behind him) and that there were people standing around within earshot…
And...England didn't mind…? If they overheard?
Something about that touched him deeper than he liked.
Made him feel a connection between them…
For one moment there, they felt...so alike…
That could've been himself waiting for an "I love you" from Hawaii or Tex or Molossia.
And now he felt kinda bad...what had Arthur felt during the silence?
Dammit, his old man was wearing him down with his steadfast mushiness.
A couple days in and Alfred's walls were turning to goo!
If that wasn't bad enough...they'd only been apart for a few hours and he was starting to miss him.
Two long hours later (after an uncomfortable but somewhat deserved 'You're-both-idgits' lecture from Scotland) England and America were reunited in a Chinese fast food restaurant.
And if Alfred wasn't mistaken Arthur seemed a teensy bit impressed with him-Alfred wasn't too shabby with chopsticks.
Thank you Japan and China! The former of which would usually model appropriate utensil holding techniques for his benefit while explaining the cultural significance (which was great because it usually turned the moment into story time and Japan was almost as good as England).
Meanwhile, China went for the more direct approach and just called him out when he was holding/eating/behaving "incorrectly:" 'America! Why you make me embarrassed to be seen with you?!'
Yup. That usually got his attention pretty quick.
"I was thinking," Scotland mused aloud as he grabbed an egg roll "that we ought to do somethin' a bit more exciting."
"Golf was exciting!" Reilley interjected.
"Go on, I like exciting!" Alfred heartily endorsed.
"Poppet, don't speak with your mouth full" Arthur lightly scolded.
"Oi, if you'd been sitting where I was sitting-you wouldn't be sayin' that at all" Reiley groused pouring more sweet and sour sauce over his meal.
"Been a while since we did some trail hunting."
Alfred immediately perked up "Hunting?"
Finally! Scotland was acting more like his cool self again! He still wasn't sure what his issue had been yesterday and while just about everyone who interacted with him had various "Blame America" moments, he usually had an actual hand in whatever misfortune had aggravated them.
Ah well, he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Alistair?" Reilley looked a bit uncertainly at his brother.
Arthur glared, "A ridiculous idea. His age-"
"He's enough experience for a hundred marksmen" Scotland waved a dismissive hand "and I'm certain I could likely pull a few strings and-"
"Yeah! Now you're talking, I-"
"No" Arthur shook his head firmly "This holiday is meant to be peaceful."
"Awwwwwww."
"He might just relax different than you...and we can exhaust some of that youthful energy."
"Yeah!"
"Oh yes; you. You, who were just freaking out yesterday over a few missed hours of sleep, I want you to be handling guns" Arthur sneered "You think you should be the one to take my son hunting? Oh yes, that sounds safe. I'm going to consent to that" his voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Hmm...yeah...there was that but…Alfred wasn't his charge anymore. He could make whatever decisions he wanted. Alfred mulled around the idea of being with Scotland who, while gruff, always had a sort of "old-school-warrior-esque" aura...and woods and hunting and-and-and….ADVENTURE!
"Really Uncle Al? You're gonna take me hunting?"
"Out of the ques-"
"I jus' might. They're some trails and I think it'd do you good to go riding and hunting with some hounds and-"
Alfred squealed delightedly, "I promise I won't get lost this time! Hey Dad! Are you gonna come too? I hear they're really cracking down on hunting here. So you better get in on it, if you wanna see some action-"
"Alfred...there's a rather violent track record between hunters and sabs. And I would really prefer we not even risk getting caught up in-"
Alfred glowed with thoughts of hunting, "We chase foxes at home. Coyote are fair game in some parts though. Cuz they eat the foxes."
He shuffled closer to Scotland.
"Will there be horns and bugles and stuff? I love it when there's horns-reminds me of stories and ballads like-"
"Alfred-"
"Come on Dad! It'll be like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight but more modern and less armor...unless you wanna let us borrow-"
"Sweetheart look, there's one more dumpling! Would you like it?"
He swiveled and immediately moved closer to Arthur, "Would I?! O'course!"
He munched happily on the potsticker.
England felt the little fingers in his squirm at the tight grip.
He forced himself to relax it, but it was difficult.
God, it was difficult.
Only a few minutes after departing the restaurant and waving farewell to Alistair and Reilley (because they had watched Alfred the whole morning and deserved a reprieve from his energetic offspring), Alfred had nearly scared him to death looking left instead of right before trying to cross the street.
Thankfully, they'd been holding hands and Arthur was able to yank him out of the way of oncoming traffic.
A careless "whoops" had been followed by a frustrated "why do you guys have to drive on this side anyway?"
Despite the fact that America used to drive on the same side! It was after his revolution that he chose to change it...hmph...juvenile rebellion...
Arthur tried to calm himself and gave the boy a strained "Please be more careful."
Maybe he heard the desperation in his voice, because the boy dropped the attitude and Arthur received a soft "kay."
It seemed like matters were resolved until they approached Westminster Palace, and Alfred stopped walking-like an obstinate mule, he dug in his heels and wouldn't budge.
Funny how nations could summon such strength at times; the sudden pull had jolted Arthur's arm rather painfully.
God, if this was about the "ghosts" so help him...
"You're hurting" Alfred growled. "Too tight!"
Dammit, his grip had tightened again.
"Sorry," He let go and Alfred flexed his fingers.
"Don't hold so hard Old Man," Alfred reprimanded-voice low and harsh.
That sentence.
Within that simple snarled declaration...
Arthur swallowed a sigh.
Alfred's desire for independence and Arthur's need for control would always have them locking horns.
And even while Arthur could acknowledge and even sympathize to an extent-he'd been that way in his youth-considered his brothers the meanest of tyrants whenever they stood in the way of his desires...
And yet...try as he might, Arthur just couldn't see himself as an unreasonable authority figure. Yes, he'd made mistakes with all of his wards...but usually whenever he tried to reign them in or correct misbehavior, he did so out of concern.
He frowned back at the two sharp ungrateful blue eyes and the slightly wrinkled nose.
He felt his ire raise instinctively at the confrontational tone and the obvious lack of respect, awareness, and gratitude; he was trying to keep the child safe!
He took a deep breath.
Easy Arthur ol' boy.
They needed to find a middle ground. Arthur would make the first step in search of it and hoped that Alfred would follow suit.
"I'm sorry" he repeated.
The child's vexed expression became something more fragile and he flexed his fingers again, "...hurt me…"
"Didn't mean to harm you" Arthur replied sincerely-carefully reaching for the (admittedly pink) fingers and feeling rather awful.
He clasped the hand gently between both of his, "Very sorry. My nerves...still...a bit...on edge from...earlier. Car almost struck you...needed you to stay close."
Alfred blinked, "Oh." He scuffed a shoe and wiggled the fingers in Arthur's hold. "You coulda just said so."
"I'll try to remember to do that."
"S'okay. Tex was always having to manhandle me outta the way of wagons and coaches and stuff. Thought you were mad at me for messing up and bein' all passive aggressive and dragging me behind you like a stupid oxen."
Arthur took that moment to gently scoop him up before walking up the steps and through the entrance-figuring Alfred could use the comfort and Arthur could use some peace of mind that his child would arrive at his office unscathed.
"I can walk you know" Alfred pouted-a hint of his previous frustration already resurfacing.
"I know, Sweet. I just...I missed being able to hold you. There were a lot of years when I couldn't." It wasn't a lie. He'd long missed the days where he could carry him-had regretted all those moments where he'd told a little colony "No. Not now" and "You're old enough to walk on your own. So do so." Far too soon, he'd had a teenaged Alfred on his hands. And Arthur had often been caught up in maintaining appearances that he'd scold the lad when he'd disrupt his ship's disembarkment to ambush his colonizer with a fierce embrace.
Not long after the smoky battlefields of 1812 cleared, when trade had resumed and his empire needed him to improve relations with the United States, he experienced the phenomena of not having someone waiting for him in the harbor.
He, along with several of his best handpicked advisors, arrived at the White House unescorted and furious.
When he commented on the blatant disregard of propriety, Alfred had laughed him off with "But they had you! Aw England, I thought it would be an insult to include a guide-"
He'd bristled, "Address me as The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Irel-"
"Hahaha, what a long title! I should need to take a breath in the midst of saying it. No disrespect intended, next time I'll send someone. I just figured you knew the way very well."
Arthur stilled as he reached for the button for his floor.
He'd always dismissed it as carelessness on Alfred's part-an amateur nation knowing little about the ways of hosting and-
He blinked.
Except...he'd taken his job as host of Thanksgiving so seriously. It was difficult to reconcile himself to the possibility that he simply had less interest in his role as a host to other nations in a professional setting. He shook his head, well, Alfred had been much younger then versus now-and a certain amount of ignorance was to be expected and excused no matter how irritating or inconvenient it might be except…
Something wasn't quite right about that interaction. His lingering hurt and resentment and his need to hurry the negotiations along (he had wards and a government to return to) distracted him from it in the moment.
"I'll send someone."
Someone else.
And he did. It wouldn't be for another century or so that Alfred began being the one to meet him after voyages or flights to his country.
"I just figured you knew the way very well."
Was it a jab? At his past as his colonizer? That Arthur had lost him or...
Perhaps….it...no…but…
No.
Because the White House hadn't existed until 1800 and during America's early years as a sovereign nation, England usually had most of their trade meetings happen on his side of the Atlantic (the boy needed to see how proper hosting was supposed to be done), so how would he-
Abruptly, he saw the White House in flames flash across his memory's eye.
'...I just figured you knew the way very well...'
After all, you knew it well enough to come and burn my capital to the ground.
He remembered Blue's cold expression, "It'll never be over."
No. They were reconciled now. Blue was wrong.
Had to be.
Alfred squirmed, reached over, and pressed the button where Arthur's hand was hovering. He flashed a charming 'I'm-being-helpful' smile and whispered apologetically in his ear, "Sorry dude, that's the right floor, right? I just had to go for it, people were starting to stare."
He nodded distractedly and moved away from the panel so the other elevator passengers could make their selections.
It was a long ride up as his mind raced.
1812.
That was the ghost haunting them.
They had to talk about it.
Soon.
He knew Mathieu and Texas should be present-he'd promised Mathieu.
But...
He wasn't sure if he could wait that long.
Arthur exited the elevator, nodding to various assistants as he approached his office.
He adjusted his hold on Alfred, as he searched for his keys.
After setting his briefcase on the desk, he moved to deposit Alfred in his chair. Except that the boy took that moment to wrap his arms tightly around Arthur's neck and lean more fully against him.
"I…" Alfred murmured hesitantly "Ya know I…"
"Hm?"
Alfred chewed his lip a moment and buried his face into Arthur's shoulder and murmured so quietly that if Arthur's office hadn't been deathly silent-he wouldn't have heard it:
"I missed you too."
Alfred crunched through another spoonful of bland, healthy oat cereal.
Old man cereal…
Blech…
His uncles had left last night to "check" on Wales. Yeah, there was something going on alright.
They'd all been crashing on the couch: Reilley had the left side, Scotland had the right, and Alfred and the cats had the top...or did until Arthur lifted him off it and settled them both on the green velvet high back chair in the corner.
Even worse, when they all started arguing about what to watch, for some reason England wouldn't let them all just arm wrestle for it.
No, in a totally arbitrary move he pulled the "You're-under-my-roof" card and changed it to Dr. Who.
During a commercial, Eire had checked his phone.
"Whoops" Eire had commented flippantly "Had this off. Let's see. Oh...hmm…Oh dear."
"What now?" Alistair dragged a hand over his face.
"It's Rhys. Tryin' to get ahold of you actually. Yeh haven't been returning his calls and when he went to check up on you, the sprites wouldn't open the door. Yeh should hear him, Alis! Awwww" he reached over to try and pinch Scotland's cheek "Sounds like he's worried about you deartháir"
"Hmph. Not worried about you."
"He knows I can withstand just about anythin'-"
"Like a cockroach-"
"I'm more than a match for some little wittle pixies-"
Scotland gave him a kick which didn't stop his brother from chuckling malevolently.
Alistair crossed his arms, "See if I defend you from wendigo again!"
"Ha! Ya didn't. You put me in a different humvee and didn't even wish me the best."
Alistair did have the good grace to blush then and stuttered, "Y-y-you were fine! It all worked out. You were fine!"
Alfred glanced at Arthur, now curious, "Hey Dad? Are pixies mean?"
"Nasty lil' buggers" Reilley answered.
"-that bite" Alistair added. "And steal. And hide things. And make noise. And bite. Bite hard."
Alfred turned wide eyes to Arthur for confirmation.
Arthur frowned, "It is true that some...some are not so...pleasant. But-"
Both of Alfred's uncles groaned.
Reilley sighed in exasperation, "You'll be hard pressed to hear Arthur speak ill of any fairyfolk."
"So...they're NOT like...Disney's Pixie Hollow fairies?"
His uncles roared with laughter-Reilley actually fell off the couch wheezing with mirth.
Great. Now he felt really stupid. He'd downloaded several movies for him and Arthur to watch-thinking he'd enjoy them.
He felt his cheeks burn and he turned away from them-only to realize that now he was facing Arthur who was biting his lip to try and keep his mouth from smiling.
Nope. Done for the night. Strike three he was out. He needed to cut his losses and go to bed early and escape this.
He slinked off not long after that giving a flat "goodnight" which prompted another round of sniggers at his expense.
Feeling sorry for himself he flopped pathetically on his bed.
There was gonna be a lot of this; him being a total newbie and everybody laughing at him over it.
He'd just started up a game of digital card solitaire on his laptop to take the edge off, when the door to his room opened.
Arthur had a large burgundy tome with tarnished silver markings in his arms.
He sat down on the bed-leaning against the headboard and beckoning Alfred over as he cracked the book open.
"These are pixies, dear."
Curiosity won over injured dignity and he crawled over-ducking under Arthur's arm for a better view.
"Eep!" Alfred pulled a face.
Arthur nodded, "They...look quite a bit different than what you imagined?"
Sure did. All pointed and thin and stretched…
"Some live in water and others in woodlands or glens. Quite a variety" he explained pointing to different illustrations.
Some with huge eyes…
Others with wings or claws...or even fins…
Many with sharp little teeth…
Arthur noticed his gaze and admitted-amusement coloring his tone, "Yes; some do bite."
Subconsciously he leaned back and Arthur rested his chin on top of Alfred's head.
"You don't need to be afraid. Just treat them respectfully and they're unlikely to cause you trouble. And should they...well then, all you need do is tell me."
As Arthur began going into depth about habitats and behaviors of pixies Alfred was more likely to encounter, his uncles peaked in.
"We're heading off" Alistair remarked. "Phoned Wales. Still sounds jumpy so we're goin' ta check in on him."
Reilley came over to the bed and deliberately ruffled both blond's hair, "Slán go fóill!"
"We'll come back by before we head over to Kirkland Manor."
Alfred slurped the leftover milk in his bowl.
All that morning Arthur had been running around frantically cleaning.
Ding.
"Your toast is done!" Alfred called.
His father practically collapsed into the chair across from him. He'd only eaten a few bites of toast before the doorbell rang.
He immediately bolted towards the door.
"Oh Alfred" he called-his tone a bit too expectantly for Alfred to think it was really a surprise "It seems we have visitors."
He padded over and there in the entryway: Finland and Sealand.
America managed to tack on a smile-he knew he was the reason behind this "surprise" visit.
Yesterday, while chilling in Arthur's office-he'd found himself preoccupied with Arthur's dying plant. Old man walked in on him cradling the small pot to his chest, stroking a few of its petals, and murmuring the last refrain of Radiohead's "Creep."
Because...well...obviously the plant was British, so the Star Spangled Banner or anything by the Eagles was kinda out of the question.
Yeah…
Yup…
He did that with plants sometimes.
And yeah...he knew it was kinda...unusual.
He quickly explained that touch could help trigger immune responses and that some plants actually liked to be touched.
What he couldn't quite explain was the tingling feeling he'd gotten in his fingers-or the way he could almost envision an electrical like energy slowly leaving his hands and entering the plant-meeting some sort of...source within it. Like an invisible hand looking for a power switch and turning it on.
"And they like to be sang to?" England had asked surprisingly interested.
"I dunno...I guess…" He'd set the plant back on the desk after that. "Just got in that habit...whenever Tex left for solo jobs and missions and stuff, I usually focused on the garden..."
"...You're lonely in here...aren't you pet?" Arthur murmured-eyes looking sad.
Alfred blinked, "I know you're busy."
"I'll see what I can do."
If he'd have known that exchange would prompt Arthur into attempting to set him up on a playdate with Sealand…
He would've done everything in his power to convince him that he was one hundred percent a-okay with solitude.
It wasn't that he disliked Sealand, the kid kinda reminded him of himself when he was little…well little-er. But he also an irritating tendency to boast and make himself out to be a hero-which admittedly was sometimes cute...but it could be uber annoying when he tried to put himself into the same league of heroism as America.
Because...
Hell. No. Back The Truck Up. Don't even go there.
Finland gave him a cheery wave while Sealand stared.
"Wow" the micronation murmured "Molossia wasn't exaggerating."
America felt his eyebrow twitch-way to protect sensitive information Molossia!
"Berwald wanted to come but couldn't get out of his meetings" Finland explained as Arthur closed the door. "So he asked if I was willing to take Peter over. Anyway, here we are and-Oh!" He snapped his fingers. He turned around, pulling something out of his pocket and put it on.
He spun around, "Ta da!"
Alfred gasped and pointed, "You remembered!"
"I did!"
Arthur's eyebrow twitched at the sight of the fake beard now on Timo's face.
"My offer to you still stands. You can call me Papa Finland."
Finland seemed blissfully ignorant of the dark crackling aura that immediately surrounded England following that statement.
Alfred blinked considering it, "Wait right there! I gotta grab something from my room."
"Will do."
It was the perfect time to practice.
He jumped the last few stairs on his way back down, an index card held tightly in his fist.
"Okay, Papa Finland!"
"Yes!"
"Alfred!? You have a fath-"
"I need you to be totally honest with me after I read this off-"
Timo nodded-clapping both hands on Sealand's shoulders to keep the boy still and giving him a side glance that warned him to listen politely.
A flustered Arthur interrupted with, "Alfred, I'm certain I can help you later with whateve-"
"Now keep in mind this'll be my first read through. So I'll probably make mistakes."
"I am glad to help" Timo assured-eyes bright.
Alfred cleared his throat and read off in his practiced, perky, plastic-ish, pageant voice (which he usually reserved for assemblies and when dealing with lawyers and lobbyists), "Good morning fellow nations, it is a pleasure to be among you today. I was and remain the United States of America. As you can see, my appara-sorry-appearance...ugh...Congress didn't use spellcheck...has been altered as a result of my recent recession and the swift growth I underwent as a colony in the 1700s...1770s actually...I'll...make that more specific. Uh...um...Right...please don't worry for me or yourselves as this "Age Adjustment" is not contagious and in no way affects my capabilities as a member of the G8. I will take this time now to thank you for your kind treatment of my representative Texas these past months. He was pleased to make your acquaintance…wow…I dunno if I can read that off with a straight face…and my government thanks you for your inclusion of him and your understanding during this trying time. Any further questions regarding my condition or past absence can be directed to my staff. Thank you."
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