Disclaimer: I do not own HISHE. Or Bill Nye the Science Guy and its theme song. Or Fruit Shoots. Or CinemaSins, Superman, Lego Batman, Marvel, Supersmash Bros. Brawl, Mario Kart, or McDonald's and its menu items. Or Superman phrase "It's a bird, it's a plane…"
Warning: Some profanity! Some stereotypes. Some OCs for sake of plot. Some inevitable inaccuracies (historically, culturally, and grammatically). Finland has sauna competitions and if you look them up, they're intense and kinda crazy. Brief reference to Captain John Paul Jones. Japan has a giant mecha display (and no one on the globe is surprised). Panic attacks-they suck. More Fluff.
Special Warning: Violent flashback. Dedicated to those of you who lost sleep wondering about Al during Wendigo. Spoiler: there will be more.
AN: Thank you so much for your reviews! And your love. It's so fun reading what you guys have to say. Sunsetonmars: Yes, it's amazing how parents often think "Hey, they're young. You're young. You'll be besties!" : D. And when it doesn't pan out-they'll still try another playdate—overly optimistic that your first-impression of the other kid was wrong. (Usually, it's just that they're good friends with the other kid's parent and are willing to keep smushing the two of you together until one or both of you get into such an ugly disagreement that the adults go O_O …guess they don't like each other. To one anonymous reviewer (who I will now affectionately dub 'Gold'): You've come to the right place and thank you for your review. "America and Sealand... as playdates... *barf* I can see England forcing that to happen" Not gonna lie; I lol'd pretty hard at that. As for your disappointment regarding the efforts behind the index card...alas...I can see it happening...sadly, I've watched the government rush to tackle the issue of…serving chocolate milk in cafeterias with more zeal and concern rather than dare address a slew of other, ya know, immediate more important issues that might bruise a few toes. :/ And I don't like thinking how my taxes went into that battle…
Spoiling you guys with a pretty swift update! Enjoy! : D
Chapter 13: Jerkland, Jr.
Alfred nodded as Timo suggested he say it in his own words so it sounded more natural.
Though whether that meant he should make the wording more or less casual-Alfred couldn't tell.
Not to be outdone England began advising, "More eye contact of course, once you're more familiar with the piece. And you'll want to stand up straight."
"And you're not going to field any questions? You've been away for a while..." Timo asked.
It made a cold chill run down his spine-just imagining trying to speak candidly about Osha and Nekosi or the whole Clinic Counseling thing…
"Call me Osha" she replied steadily in her low, steady voice.
"Yes, Dr. Oronhiatékha-I...I am pronouncing that right? Right?"
"You are."
"Wow, really? Surprising, I usually butcher-wait, Osha. You...you really want me to call you by your first name?"
She gave a calm nod-her earrings swaying with the motion.
"It's just you...you guys-girls-sorry-women-I mean professionals! Are so gungho about 'I graduated from so-and-so Acadamedy with high honors,' I…"
"Titles imply ranking, which create distance, and bring attention to and enforce the differences between people. Separation. That's largely the reason you have been sent here. You have become separated. You feel this separation. This….aloneness which harms you...and those around you. Separation is not what we wish to promote today. No; today, we are building bridges General Jones."
He looked up at her in surprise. He'd expected her to automatically use his first name, "You…"
She smiled, "My assistant and I will address you by what you deem feels most comfortable at this time."
He took a deep breath. If he was gonna survive this session and earn a rave review from his Counselor, he needed to make some concessions. Besides...didn't he want to get better? The sooner he got better, the sooner he could go home.
It was just like Arthur said:
"They're not punishing you...
I thought you prided yourself in trying new things.
If it works, you'll return to us rested and more productive."
"Alfred. Call me Alfred."
She reached a hand out to cover his (which had the arm of his chair in a white knuckled death grip).
"Thank you Alfred. I appreciate how willing you are to make use of this opportunity. We shall make our way through this journey together."
He was supposed to share this in front of people like Russia (who'd likely be amused) or China (who would probably tell it a whole bunch of times-and like a game of telephone wind up spreading weird inaccurate stories).
Not to mention, if he wasn't completely ready to share the whole thing with Tex (who could keep his opinions to himself until asked). How could he handle a room full of people who'd want to discuss or question or challenge him about it and why he didn't do X or Y to get himself out.
He grabbed at the nearest shrub, desperately ripping leaves and branches. Anything that could possibly anchor him. Nekosi ruthlessly dragged him until Alfred managed to twist one foot out of his grip and deliver a hard enough kick to make the man let go of him completely.
He barely made it to his knees, before Nekosi tackled him-the man used his full weight on Alfred's emaciated form. God, his kidneys.
He was too weak...too exhausted to do much more than flail and yell for help until Osha's disappointed face came into view sporting several bruises from when he'd fought his way out.
When her hand came and tried to caress his face or staunch the blood from where a branch had scratched him on the forehead-he tried to bite her fingers.
A more resigned expression crossed her features then, and she pulled out a bottle and a cloth.
After several attempts, Nekosi twisted Alfred's arms behind his back.
"Please calm yourself Dyami," Osha pled. "If you would but listen, none of this would be necess-"
"HELP! FIRE! BOMB! HELP! SOMEBODY! TEXAS! TEX-"
The cloth was held over his nose and mouth.
He tried his best to hold his breath, to keep the chemical from doing its work, but the need for air won.
They won.
The hero lost.
The world went hazy like an Impressionist's painting, blurring and swirling into colors as he was tossed over the man's shoulders like a sack of potatoes.
Alfred took a big steady breath.
He wouldn't call it pain, it was too empty a feeling and it immediately prompted him to halt it in his tracks before it could become something more.
He exhaled slowly.
He still had enough control over himself to freeze it. Like a bud under heavy frost-as long as he didn't let it open…
It sometimes made him imagine that he had frozen fields inside him.
He started as a hand rested on his shoulder.
Arthur had crossed over to stand beside him, "If he wants to keep certain information private, that's well within his rights."
He realized that somewhere in the time following Finland's question, Alfred had lost his smile and Timo was looking at him with open concern.
"Yup."
He quickly flashed a grin and skipped over-taking the soccer ball from under the man's arm.
Sealand gave chase and Alfred liked to think the awkward moment was lost.
The ball was confiscated pretty quick after he and Sealand ignored England's request to play outside and Sealand knocked over a small table with a chessboard-scattering chess pieces everywhere. There was still a black knight unaccounted for.
Alfred wouldn't say he liked being lectured about rough horseplay, but it lent a sense of normalcy that was calming.
And so began a morning chock full of him and Peter egging one another on as the adults talked in the parlor.
First it was various video games like Super Smash Bros. Brawl and Mario Kart and who could get the best score or the most smash balls or whatever. When they attempted to play Lego Batman they couldn't make it past the menu as neither was willing to compromise and play Robin.
Board games weren't quite a good fit for them either as Sealand was a poor sport with trivia based games (If it wasn't straight up battle history, which he was oddly well informed about, he didn't think it was fair). He also proved to be an absolutely unbearable winner at games of chance.
Their taste in anime differed too-with Sealand only wanting to watch shows with mecha and wasn't really into the magical quest series. And America could only watch so many Gundam episodes before he needed a break. More than once he thought to himself that Sealand ought to have a playdate with Japan-they could go ogle the Gundam Front Tokyo attraction in Koto for hours reenacting various scenes.
When Sealand couldn't appreciate HISHE or CinemaSins and wasn't a big fan of literature (Even British literature) and Alfred didn't feel like talking about the 1940s with him, America accepted that they just weren't gonna mesh intellectually either; they ended up jumping off stairs. Whoever could jump the most and land on their feet would have bragging rights.
Sealand's longer legs gave him a definite advantage, but Alfred just had more combat experience; and they kept neck in neck until the racket they were making alerted the adults to their mischief.
Alfred couldn't help but feel rather grateful that the game ended prematurely-because Arthur saved him from totally eating it.
Like seriously.
He didn't know how the old man did it.
One minute he was all "blah blah blah my joints. You're wearing me out" and the next he had Jedi Master reflexes!
He managed to snatch Alfred out of the air-grabbing the back of his suspenders and keeping gravity from exacting her vengeance against stupid ideas...though it did mean enduring a lecture about foolhardiness.
A DVD of Bill Nye the Science Guy was quickly set in the DVD player.
Alfred bounced happily in his seat singing along,
"Bill Nye the Science Guy
Bill Nye the Science Guy
Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill
Bill Nye the Science Guy
(Science rules)"
As the theme song finished, and Bill introduced the subject of fossils, Sealand gave him an oddly triumphant leer.
Arthur and Timo were having tea in the room over discussing boring stuff like weather-though they kept the door open to better listen for juvenile instigated chaos.
"Betcha can't scare ol' Jerkland" Sealand taunted.
Aha, so now they'd transitioned into the realm of dares.
"I hear that he can still make you wet yourself on Halloween if he-"
"WHAT?! Who-who said that!?"
"Wy heard it from Australia who said Barbados witnessed it!" Sealand replied smugly.
"N-nuh uh!" he argued, feeling his face heat up.
Dude. He was a toddler when that happened. It totally didn't count! Plus, that was like late 1650s. He was still mastering toilet training. So yeah, he had some accidents-over-tickling was another culprit that got that particular result.
Which led him to accept the challenge; they'd both try to scare England. Whoever won would get to choose the next two DVDs they'd watch.
Sealand wanted to make the loser be forced to acknowledge him as a nation-which was his run of the mill demand for whenever he won anything-but Alfred laughed (as his usual response to that) before giving a hard "No" once again.
And so several minutes later, Alfred found himself doing a military low crawl into the parlor.
His mission became more difficult when Americat discovered him and decided it was a good time to try and nuzzle his face. Worse, Camelot seemed to think he was fair game and tried to swipe at his elbows as he moved.
Squeezing under the couch saved him from their feline attention and thankfully they didn't yowl and give away his location.
He took a deep breath as his target came into view.
He wriggled a bit closer.
A pair of boots were now just inches away.
Moment of truth!
He thrust both arms out-grabbing the ankles suddenly.
Nothing.
They weren't empty were they? Arthur hadn't removed them and just set them here. Dammit, he used to do that when they would play hide and seek sometimes.
He gave a squeeze.
No...it felt like they had feet but...there was still no reaction.
Was he asleep?
He pulled himself out farther and started to twist his torso to better see.
"Eep!"
Oh noes. The dreaded smirk!
He tried to escape but it was too late.
England's hands descended on either side of him-tickling him mercilessly and eliciting high pitched shrieks and giggles from him.
Arthur laughed heartily as he pulled Alfred out from under the sofa. And to his mortification (because he could see Sealand watching from the doorway and Finland was just a few feet away), England took that moment to nuzzle their noses together and laugh:"If you want my attention there are less dramatic ways to go about it, pet."
He then set Alfred on his lap for a while as he and Timo resumed their conversation about saunas. First on how well it could treat rheumatic pain (which Arthur was really interested in) and then into the crazy sauna competitions which Timo admitted he often participated.
When Alfred squirmed one time too many, Arthur mentioned that there were still two coloring books in his briefcase. Commenting that Sealand might like borrowing the Marvel one while Alfred used the "special" one.
He perked up at the thought. Yesterday, when he wasn't babysitting the rosebush, he'd flipped through the second coloring book. Arthur had made it himself-just for Alfred!
The "Special One" which Arthur had hole punched and woven leather ties through to bind it; it even had two leather panels to act as a front and back cover. It made it look super mysterious and intriguing...and it was his.
There were some pictures of tribe-like scenes (Though they all wore robes instead of deerskin and their plaits and braids looked decidedly different from the ones he'd grown up knowing).
There were also pictures of different kinds of magic creatures (including a really wicked looking serpent that Alfred both looked forward to and dreaded coloring-cuz he'd probably end up dreaming about it).
There were puzzles and word searches and dotted line versions of the knots Arthur had shown-for Alfred to trace and practice making on his own!
He really wanted to memorize the "Strength" knot.
And-and-and….it was made for him!
"Kay!"
Plus, if he was doing that-it'd save him from any more of Sealand's dares at least for a little while.
He rushed out of the room-ignoring Arthur's rebuke to walk as he quested for the coloring books in the older man's office.
Once he had his prize in his arms, he hurried back toward the parlor. If he could learn the "Strength" knot well enough to freehand it, Arthur would probably be really impressed!
Arthur had already told him that drawing the knots could be tricky.
He was almost there…when a zombie jumped out.
The teacup fell from Arthur's numb fingers-shattering loudly as the porcelain met the floor.
Royal Chelsea. Red with golden filigree. Hand painted.
He didn't care.
Heart pounding in his throat, he raced out of the room with Finland on his heels.
Fae? Ghost? Burglar? A horrific memory? God, if Iroquois had somehow gotten loose!
That scream. That bloodcurdling scream!
He hurled himself around the corner to see Alfred cowering behind a faux ficus tree feet away from a very short "zombie" in a sailor outfit...whose sniggering was muffled by his gruesome latex mask.
Of all the cruel pranks...
Arthur ripped the Halloween mask off of Sealand's head startling the boy.
"Peter J. Kirkland you explain yourself this minute young man!"
Peter's eyebrows drew together sullenly as he crossed his arms, "N-not my fault he scares so easily."
"Now, now," Finland assured-coaxing Alfred to stand back up, "There's no danger."
Arthur gripped Peter by the upper arm and brought him into the parlor.
"Of all the insidious, inconsiderate-Peter! He's only recently been returned to us! He was captured boy! Tormented! And you think it's fair play to prey on that? That was very unkind of you to do."
"I...I just…"
He gave the lad a shake, "Bad form Peter! Bad form."
When he'd scolded the boy enough to make him sniffle remorsefully, he pointed to the mess of tea and smashed porcelain.
"Clean that up. That resulted from your foolish hijinks. You know where the cleaning supplies and dustpan are. Hop to it. And apologize to America first."
Sealand wiped his now runny nose on his sleeve and trudged over to where the smaller blond was sitting on an footstool-hugging his coloring books to his chest.
"I-I...I'm sorry...that...you're such a big crybaby."
"Peter" Arthur warned darkly "We can deal with the matter now or I can call Berwald tonight."
Peter stiffened. If he chose the latter, it would mean a full day of worrying for the boy.
"F-fine. J-jerkland. I...I'm sorry Alfred. I was just...playing I…that-that wasn't funny to you...I...I am sorry."
Arthur looked to see how well Alfred received the apology. The little one's face was still red and blotchy...and angry.
"Y-you're mean. A-a-and you can't play with my Marvel coloring book or my video games or nothing now!"
England blinked and sighed as he knelt down next to the boy-resting a hand on the little foot which was trembling anxiously, "Alfred. He did a mean thing. That doesn't mean he's "mean" in and of himself-"
"It's not Halloween. Scaring people when it's not-" he glared at Sealand "That's like a penalty-foul-black-flag, Jerkland Jr!"
Sealand flinched.
"Alfred" Arthur warned sternly. Since Sweden's adoption of Sealand, England was limited when it came to disciplining Peter. Thankfully, Peter never pushed matters too far. A scolding usually did the trick.
Alfred though...Alfred had a penchant for paying lip service. He'd better behave. Sovereign nation or not, Alfred could easily earn a swat from Arthur, if he didn't watch himself.
Especially if he attacked the likes of Sealand who, while immature and occasionally obnoxious, was so far below America in terms of power, knowledge, and brute strength. It wouldn't be fair to let Alfred loose on the other boy.
"Alfred" he repeated.
"Not fair. I've always gotta be the good guy when people are mean to me" Alfred grumbled setting the coloring books down on the floor with a hard thump, so he could cross his arms across his chest.
"I know, but that's what separates heroes from the rest."
Alfred glanced at him as if to gauge his sincerity.
Alfred nodded miserably and muttered tersely, "S'okay Peter. I'm okay and I won't call you that again. Sorry."
It was a shame; the hope had been that if Alfred and Peter had gotten along well, Alfred could've spent a few days with him and Berwald-having a slumber party with anime and video games and candy.
Next week, Arthur had an all day meeting and a presentation the following day. He hadn't wanted the child to feel lonely in his absence. He'd originally planned to have Scotland watch him (but considering his older brother's behavior as of late) he'd begun looking for alternatives.
Not to mention Peter and Wy were friendly with one another and would be the closest in age to Alfred during their winter festivities.
But if they couldn't get on with one another...
Arthur sighed and tousled the golden hair.
As Finland apologized and offered to replace the broken cup (feeling responsible since he was Sealand's caretaker for the day), he began to dread what having both under one roof for over a week would result in.
England decided a jaunt over to McDonald's was in order for lunch to try and clear the air.
As he opened the right rear door, his fears were confirmed-Alfred had entered a truly, rotten, full blown sulk.
"Stop using the child lock. I'm not Australia" Alfred glowered as he hopped out of the vehicle.
Yes; Alfred was in quite a surly mood-arms crossed tightly over his chest, feet shuffling.
As they waited in line, Arthur noted that Peter's earlier remorse had dissipated greatly-smugness seeping in its place, "You're just angry because I won. In fact, I won double; I got you and England and-"
Arthur gave him a warning look and Timo gave Peter a sharp tap on the head-the twelve year old suddenly found his shoes very interesting.
"Hey, it's not my fault!" Alfred exploded. "Weird stuff's happening. My toothpaste was in an entirely different place this morning and had bitemarks! I had to go hunting for it."
Arthur gave him an incredulous look.
"Hey, yes; Americat does eat a lot of weird stuff, but fluorite isn't a favorite taste for him. He's not the reason it wound up in your sewing room. Plus! He's got little furry paws. How would he open the door? He hasn't mastered knobs yet-just handles."
"Maybe one of your uncles borrowed it and…"
"Decided to snack on it while knitting?" Alfred sneered.
Possibly. It was very likely they'd found Arthur's stash of rum behind the bust of Shakespeare and then made questionable food choices. It was probably Reilley.
Arthur cleared his throat, "Do you know what you'd like?"
The prospect of food lightened Alfred's countenance tremendously-adding a sparkle to his eyes which had been absent for the last half hour.
"Two, no, three happy meals pleeeeease. One with a burger, one with fish fingers, and one with nuggets. Please. All with fries. Please."
Well, England mused, he'd learned to add "please..."
One too many times to sound especially sincere...but…
He smiled. He could address that later.
Still, that was an awful lot of food and he'd noticed that between his smaller size and the fortitude spell breaking-he wasn't eating as much as he used to.
And since he had a tendency to clean his plate and he didn't want him getting a stomach ache, Arthur decided to negotiate.
"Two happy meals. Burger. Nuggets. One with fries, one with apple slices."
"But...they're happy meals, they don't come with lots of fries."
"You can share some of mine."
"Milkshake."
"No."
"Mcflurry?"
"Try again."
"Fruit smoothie?"
"Heading in the right direction."
"Fine. Just a coke then."
"Ha. You're funny. You get two Fruit Shoots."
"But...only two happy meals...and fruit juice. That's not a lotta calories. What if I'm hungry afterwards?"
"If you're still hungry, we'll order more. Alright? Let's start with this."
Alfred chewed his lip and stared rather seriously into Arthur's eyes.
"I skipped breakfast."
Arthur blinked. No he didn't. He had a bowl of cereal this-
"And they wouldn't let me have as much as I wanted for lunch. And before I knew it breakfast wasn't offered anymore-just coffee. And then we couldn't have coffee. And then most of the dinners were salads and I started to dream about restaurants cuz I went to bed hungry. All the food went away a little bit at a time. And then I was always hungry. And I was always tired. And they kept trying to make me forget about food, but I wouldn't. And it made them mad at me. And then they tried to make me forget about your eyes, but I wouldn't. And then things got bad." He looked up, eyes wide, "Can't I just have the third happy meal? Even if I don't eat it. Can't I just take the food with me. For if I get hungry later?"
Arthur immediately picked the quivering boy up, and held him tightly, "I promise you, I won't let you go hungry. We'll get the two happy meals. And if you're still hungry, I swear on Buckingham Palace that I will get you the third meal. And when dinner time comes, we'll eat then. And if you're hungry before then, tell me; we'll find a shop and get you something. And if you need a little something before bedtime, you are welcome to anything in the pantry or refrigerator."
The trembling continued as they moved further up the line.
He knew what this was.
The shallow breathing.
The rapid heartbeat.
The cold hands on his neck.
The chest tightening fear of being trapped echoed through their bond.
It was a panic attack.
To be honest, considering everything Alfred had been through and his behavior that morning (Goodness, that "thousand-yard"-stare he'd given them) plus Peter's nasty little stunt-Arthur wasn't surprised at all.
Very common symptom of PTSD.
He was actually sort of relieved to have it out in the open. It meant that (subconsciously at least) Alfred finally felt "safe enough" to begin reflecting and moving through the events emotionally.
Very likely he'd have several more attacks as he waded through the traumatizing memories of his captivity.
"Dammit" was muttered very softly in his ear "Dammit I know that. Dammit."
"Do you need us to go somewhere more quiet?"
Alfred shook his head stubbornly.
"What do you need? Tell me."
"..."
The arms around his neck tightened.
"I'm nearly at the counter now. Do you still want to eat here?"
There was a nod and a heavy puff of breath against his neck.
Arthur rubbed small circles into his back, feeling the effects of the panic attack ebbing as he made their order.
This was confirmed when Alfred twisted around to correct the cashier when he made a mistake. Once he was satisfied the order was correct-he rested his head on Arthur's shoulder and grumbled about cashiers not listening and expecting their customers to just accept their incorrect meal.
"Feeling better?" he asked as they approached where Finland and Sealand had saved a table.
He nodded.
"Would you like to discuss-"
He shook his head.
"You may feel better after."
He still shook his head no..BUT for the first time since he'd begun asking that question over a month ago, Alfred had hesitated-seriously considering it before declining the offer.
So close.
Arthur just needed to be patient.
"You...you felt…just now...didn't you?"
"Yes."
"...do...do you ever have…?"
"I'm over two millennia old and I have a large family. Of course."
Goodness. The child really seemed to think he lived in a vacuum. He was the only personification to ever experience night terrors. The only one to ever feel anxiety.
Alfred let out a breath of obvious relief-sagging in Arthur's arms.
Arthur kissed his temple and sat down.
He was a bit disappointed though: forget his eyes?
He wanted to hear more about that.
He didn't like to imagine that he'd been used as an instrument of torment.
Not to mention...using food as a means to control Alfred!
Despicable.
He'd always had issues with food and his captivity had clearly exacerbated it.
Poor thing.
It was an emotional wound-it needed to be cleaned out so it could heal. The only way it could be done was by talking it out.
Perhaps...later tonight he could ask Alfred to clarify.
By the time he looked up a "War of the Raspberries" had commenced with both children attempting to outdo one another.
"Boys" Arthur warned. "We can go straight home with the meal. No PlayPlace."
Alfred gasped as though injured, slapping a hand to his chest dramatically, "But we gotta ride all the slides and I have to climb up at least one."
Sealand scoffed, "That place is for babies"
"Wha!? Nuh-uh. It's a wonderland of static electricity and-"
"My sense of fun is more sophisticated than running around in my socks-"
"You played in one last month" Finland commented offhandedly. "Didn't you name yourself King Peter of Pla-"
"T-timo! I'm older now and-" Peter blushed.
"Big whup. Arthur played in there with me last month. Didn't cha, Dad? And we had a battle in the ball pit; Hero versus-"
England flushed and felt practically euphoric that his order was called before he had to answer for anything.
He could feel Finland's amused stare as he set Alfred on his feet and made his way to the counter-intending to give a nod of acknowledgement to the food server and whisk his tray away.
"Artie?" A woman asked in obvious surprise.
"E-eva?"
Yes. It was her. Clad in uniform with several of her facial piercings absent and rather neutral makeup, she looked quite a bit...tamer. Though her nails were a shocking electric purple and there was something about her general air that made her still seem rather...wild.
"Ha! Nice jumper. Didn't think I'd catch you visitin' an establishment that...how did you say it? 'Vulgarly celebrates commercialism'?"
He felt his cheeks warm, but before he could retort-
"The hero has come to help you bear the tray!" Alfred announced trotting up.
Eva glanced down, looked back at Arthur and raised an eyebrow-waiting for confirmation.
He felt his face heat up even more as he gave an affirmative nod.
She grinned, "'ello there, luv."
"Hi."
"I'm a mate of your dad's."
Alfred gave her a look of disbelief, "Really?"
Arthur felt himself bristle at the tone-as if he couldn't fathom Arthur having friends.
She laughed, "My name's Eva, what's yours?"
"Alfred."
"Pleasure to meet you Alfie."
"Al-fred" he repeated-emphasizing the last half of his name-ending with a hard "d."
She chortled, "Oh he's yours alright. You are jus' like your father. Isn't he Artie?"
In their initial meeting, he too had railed at the too-familiar shortening of his name from Arthur to Artie.
Alfred however was a better sport than Arthur had been and simply decided the best course of action was to ignore her.
He began giving orders-in a similar obnoxious way he handled collaborative war missions, "I got the tray; you get the napkins. And straws. And plastic cutlery."
"Yes. Fine. What? Why? You don't need-"
"I need it for my backpack. Emergency spoon. It's important."
"What sauce would you like, luv?"
"Barbecue! Sweet n' Spicy! And a mystery one-your choice!" After Eva deposited several dipping sauces onto his tray, he sped away.
"Thank you" Arthur nodded "I'll try to see to it that he doesn't destroy anything. A pleasure to see you, now I'll leave you to-"
"Definitely not what I expected when I imagined you with a kid."
He nodded-calmly waiting for her to comment on the child's accent or ask about his "mum." He could then segue into the backstory he'd created for them.
Or perhaps it was something even more innocuous. Something along the lines of what a handsome child he was. Most of the shops they'd visited for clothing had been quick to comment on Alfred's good looks.
"Can't believe he didn't get your eyebrows. Perhaps he'll acquire them in the teen years. Rite of passage." she waggled her own eyebrows suggestively.
His twitched in response to the teasing.
"So that's America, right?" she murmured "No wonder he gets away with so much shi-" she immediately glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping "stuff." She grinned, "He's adorable."
England froze.
She shrugged, "I've been meanin' to ask ya fer a while; ya ever going to correct all the 'Mother England' references?"
Damnation.
She'd figured it out!
"Hey Eva?" Alfred called coming back up to the counter "My happy meals had the same toy can I exchange one?"
He immediately pulled the child behind him.
"Daddy?"
Eva walked out from behind the counter-slipping past a customer who was making a god-awful-long order.
Alfred tried to peek around his parent's leg, but Arthur moved again to block him from view.
"Sorry" Eva murmured softly "Bollocks...I didn't transition into that very well, did I?"
She offered Alfred a new toy option.
"How's this one, poppet?"
"Superman! Yessss." He quickly exchanged with her "Daddy look!" He held the figurine up. "It's a bird. It's a plane. It's-"
Arthur picked him up and immediately took a step back. He could leave. If he was quick, he could leave right now. Call Timo on his cell and have him get Sealand out of there.
"Daddy?" Alfred blinked in concern. "H-hey...now you feel funny. Are you okay?"
When no answer was given, the child glanced from his parent to the human and apparently had an epiphany.
He glared, "Don't insult his cooking Eva! Yeah we're here and I know there's certain connotations with that, but his food is still…somewhat edible! I can eat it; Mattie's just a lightweight that's all."
Eva blinked and then her expression softened.
"Don't worry" she held her hands up in a placating manner as she approached.
She dropped her voice low, "I think I'm…patriotic enough that my nation doesn't have to be afraid…I mean no harm to ya…either of ya…I-"
"Oh…" Alfred relaxed "she figured it out, huh? Now, whose is she?" He looked confusedly from one to the other. "I can't tell; is she one of yours or mine? You sound like him…gah you're one of his-but you give off a vibe like me. That means it's not too late for you. Be like Captain John Paul Jones! Alistair and I shared him! Actually, a lot of us shared him-dude was adventurous. Hmm, that sounds kinda…I don't mean it like…I mean…he was an adventurer. That's what I mean. If he was into…that other kind of stuff, I dunno…but that's not important!"
Both Britons stared at him.
Here Arthur was deeply concerned for their safety and Alfred was…
Arthur blinked in realization.
Before their separation, they'd covered the danger of being mistaken for a witch. The importance of moving from place to place to hide their youthful longevity. They'd even gone over which sort of people to reveal themselves to.
But they never broached the topic of what to do should a human discover for his or herself what they were.
"Ooooh. Pick me" Alfred promoted shamelessly. "Liberty, opportunity, and who knows maybe I'll have another Gold Rush? I'm due for good luck."
"Son…"
Alfred flashed a thumbs up and a sparkling white smile, "Pick me. Because I'm the Hero!"
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