He's a Keeper

Chapter Twelve: Amidst

Important Notes: John – Scotland, Oliver – Wales, Connor – Ireland, Chloe – N. Ireland, Angie/Angélique – Seychelles, Emma Peeters – Belgium, Katya – Ukraine

Arthur woke up to a gentle shake. He groaned and mumbled something obscene under his breath before he recalled exactly where he was and turned over to glare sleepily at the person who decided to wake him. "Well, good mornin', sunshine!" Alfred chirped down at him, pulling the lovely warm quilt from under his chin. "I'm making some breakfast, so come on out when you're ready, okay?"

"Shower?" Arthur managed to say as he stretched himself along the mattress, ignoring Alfred's amused laugh.

"Sure thing. It's just at the end of the hall. I'll grab a towel for ya and put it on the sink, then come on out to the kitchen, yeah?" Merry blue eyes watched as Arthur leaned over the side of the bed, pulling his luggage closer before rummaging through it for a change of clothes. "You really aren't a morning person, are ya?"

Arthur grunted a bit in response. He pulled out a neatly folded pair of trousers and sighed. "What time is it?" he asked, mournfully begging to extract himself from the little cocoon he'd made himself on the bed.

Alfred paused in the doorway. "Uh, I'd say 'bout a quarter after eight? Why?"

"I thought you said I could sleep in," he grumbled.

The amused smile that broke onto Alfred's face was almost startling to his tired mind. He did his best to glare, even though his eyes were dry and his face and limbs felt unresponsive. "You're so cute," Alfred said in a singsong voice, chuckling when Arthur made a grimacing face. "I've been up for hours now – the cattle come first, yanno? But the chores ain't done, so after breakfast I'd like to take you out on the ranch and show you around!" His smiled widened and his blue eyes seemed to almost sparkle with excitement. "You have to meet Nova! I'm sure she'll just love ya."

"That bloody horse," was Arthur's only response as he fished out the rest of his clothes, holding them to his chest. "I'll be quick about my shower, then."

Alfred nodded, darting down the hall to grab a fluffy green towel from a closet, and running back to give it to Arthur with a smile. "If ya ever need a towel or a new sheet for your bed, you can get 'em right out of the linen closet there," he said with a jab of his thumb to indicate the closet he'd just rifled through for the towel. "See you at breakfast."

Arthur smiled wearily and took the towel gratefully, slipping into the bathroom once Alfred left with a goofy laugh and a nod. The bathroom was an oblong shape with brightly colored blue tiles and peach highlights. A few white rugs were placed in front of the sink and the shower stall. It baffled Arthur that two men could have such a well decorated home – and to be able to maintain it so well at that. He wondered if maybe it had been the womanly touches of the past Mrs. Jones' that brought all this together. And the thought warmed his heart – this house itself was a piece of history, a testament to time.

He made sure his shower was quick and he toweled himself off, running his fingers through his dampened hair once he was dressed. It always looked nice when it was damp, but as soon as his hair dried it always ruffled out into an unmanageable mess.

The kitchen smelled thickly of batter and grease and Arthur blinked down at the table. Three seats were set with round, blue ceramic dishes, dinnerware, and clear glasses filled with frothy orange juice. It seemed so extravagant for a breakfast and his brow creased as he watched Alfred pull a flaky waffle from an iron with a fork.

"Good morning," Arthur said a bit hesitantly, pausing before taking a seat in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. His finger traced the edge of his plate. Alfred glanced back at him with a grin, his smile wide and bright and Arthur found it difficult to even be awake let alone so frighteningly chipper. "Is this normal?" he decided to ask with a shrugging motion at the scene around him.

Alfred chuckled a bit, walking over and placing a large serving platter of waffles next to a bowl lined with paper towels and bacon. "Yes and no," Alfred answered. "We always have a family breakfast after the cows an' horses are fed and turned loose. Breakfast and dinner. But for lunch you're on your own." He sat in the seat next to Arthur, pulling his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans and casually winding his other hand into Arthur's. "Just a sec, okay?"

The Englishman watched curiously as Alfred pressed a button and held the device up to his ear. A phone in the next room began to ring shrilly and Arthur jumped at the sound. Mornings just seemed to make everything louder. Alfred laughed lightly and squeezed Arthur's hand. "It's just me – there's a phone in the barn… Hey Pa! Breakfast's ready. We're waitin' on ya."

Arthur watched curiously as Alfred hung up his mobile and stuffed it back into his pocket. A family breakfast… He looked out at the table settled with warm food, cold drink, and condiments. He could just imagine what it would be like with a full family – cheery faced children squabbling, the warmth of the stove in the dewy mornings, the almost tangible love it required to have such sweet ritual. His grasp on Alfred's hand tightened. Why did they hold onto such a tradition when they were so broken?

"Alfred…" The front door opened and immediately they snatched their hands away and stuffed them in their laps. "Good morning, sir," Arthur greeted Alfred's father as casually as he could, trying to smile.

"Mornin'," Alfred's father replied with an energized huff. He sat in the unoccupied seat, shedding his thick, brown colored coat from his broad shoulders. "Looks good, Alfred."

Alfred smiled brightly. "Then dig in!" he cawed, his blue, blue eyes sparking with pride. Arthur couldn't help the smile that inched its way onto his face as he accepted the plate of waffles. Alfred was just too cute.

"Hey Pa, I'm gunna show Arthur 'round the ranch. Is there anything that needs ta be done?" Alfred asked once breakfast was over – a comfortable silence had fallen over the three of them, caught up in the drowsy morning atmosphere. Arthur rolled up the sleeves of his jumper as the sink filled with sudsy water.

Alfred's father shrugged his shoulders. "Ain't much to do today," the man replied with a sniff. "I'm just goin' ta check if the heatin' system is working good in the barn. Gilbert'll be over tomorrow ta help with the roof."

"Alrighty. Me an' Art got the dishes. You're gunna be home ta watch scary movies with us tonight, right?"

There was a sudden stillness in the kitchen as Arthur turned off the water flow of the sink. Arthur looked between Alfred Senior and Alfred Junior as they both paused before Alfred Senior shrugged and tossed his coat back over his shoulders. "I'll try," was the only thing he said before pushing his way outside.

Alfred visibly deflated, turning towards Arthur with a frown. "He prolly won't be joining us tonight," Alfred said in a tiny voice, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. "But that's okay! Everything'll be just fine."

Arthur grabbed the first of the dishes with a frown. "Poppet…"

"It'll be fine," Alfred reaffirmed with a shake of his head. "Oh, we could invite Toris over! Then it'll be like a real Halloween party!"

"That sounds like a smashing time," Arthur said with as much excitement as he could muster. Just seeing Alfred so upset broke his heart; the boy didn't like to show it, and he was terrible at hiding it. It made Arthur's chest constrict all the more. "Do you pass out sweets and cakes?" he asked, hoping to deter the conversation from the more negative spectrum.

Alfred's brows creased a bit, dishes clanking together as he scrubbed leftover syrup, butter, and grease. "Cakes…? Oh! Do you mean passin' out candy? If so, then no. We're out in the middle of nowhere, so not many people actually make the trip just for a couple candy bars. For the most part people just party and play pranks." He grinned sharply. "One year me and Toris let loose all the Hammon's steer into Mrs. Dumski's lawn. Aw, I swear we coulda heard her screamin' at the cows all the way back home."

Arthur snorted. "Well, if that's what you want, you best bell your mate now before he makes other plans."

"But the dishes…"

Arthur pushed Alfred away from the sink. "I'll finish them, fret not." When Alfred didn't move, Arthur pushed harder, making the American stumble back a bit. "I'm serious, you know. You get everything settled, understand?"

"Arthur…" Alfred smiled his dimple deepened smile that made Arthur's heart flutter. "You'd wanna meet Toris? Even though you have no idea who he is, or anything?"

"I just –!" Arthur huffed, relentlessly scrubbing a plate that was already clean just to give his hands something to do. "I want you to be happy, is all. Now stop making such a fuss and bell your mate."

However, instead of doing as he was told, Alfred's smile grew and he shimmied back up next to Arthur, peering out the window of the kitchen before dipping down and capturing Arthur's lips in a quick and tender kiss. "But I am happy," he murmured before scampering off to make his phone call. Arthur felt his face bloom into a pleased blush and he set back to work on the dishes with a tiny smile on his tingling lips.

By the time he was finished and had the dirty water draining, Alfred came back grinning. "Scary movie marathon starts at six!" he announced, waving around his cell phone a bit before sticking it back in his pocket. "And thanks for helping with the dishes, Arthur. Ya really shouldnt've 'coz you're the guest of the house."

"I'd rather be of use than to stand about like a lazy lout," he replied, drying his hands and rolling his sleeves back down. "Now, what are we doing until six?"

Alfred almost jumped in excitement. "Oh man, there's so much I wanna show you, Arthur!" He grabbed his leather coat from a peg by the door, pulling it over his shoulders quickly. "Do ya got a jacket or something, Art? It's mighty cold out – winter's gunna come early this year."

The Englishman paused. "Ah, well, all I have is my overcoat…" And he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted it dirtied as it was his only coat and rather expensive at that.

But Alfred only snorted in amusement. "I figured you might not come prepared," he said with a casual wave of his hand. "C'mere." He led Arthur into his room, pushing the door open slowly.

Arthur was startled when he walked inside. He imagined that Alfred's room would be messy – like any teenagers' (although the American wasn't much of a teenager now at the age of nineteen) – but the floor was clean and there were neatly piled books, video games, and magazines on cramped bookshelves. All of which were accompanied by bright blue walls and tasteful decorations; Arthur was impressed. He stopped when he saw an American flag framed and hanging across the entirety of one wall. It almost looked new, with obvious creases as to where it had been folded over many times in the exact same spots. Arthur stepped up to it, touching his fingers lightly to the glass.

"It was hers," Alfred said from behind him, making Arthur jump a little in surprise. "They gave it to me at her funeral and I remember… I didn't wanna just put it up in a box somewhere to get forgotten. But hey, this is my old jacket – it's real warm and it should keep you cozy from the wind."

Arthur looked away from the flag to see Alfred hand him a plain leather jacket that was similar to the one he wore now with the exception of the faux fur collar and sleeves, and the decorative patches. "Thank you," he murmured as he accepted the coat and tucked himself into it. It fit well over his jumper and he smiled at the old, earthy smell inside the collar.

Alfred took his hand and pulled him outside, dropping it once they were around the corner of the house. The wind bit at his nose and cheeks and he found himself pulling up the collar of the loaned jacket to try and protect himself from the unexpected nip.

"Isn't it great?" Alfred asked suddenly, standing at the crest of the hill that led down to the property of the ranch, the land spreading as far as Arthur's eyes could see. There was warmth of pride in the American's voice and he turned to Arthur with a hopeful glance.

Arthur smiled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as the wind blew bitterly at them. "I've never seen anything quite like it," he answered honestly. "It seems like something from a story."

"Do you really think so?" Alfred asked, and when Arthur nodded firmly, he broke out into a massive grin. "I know! It's awesome isn't it? C'mon! I have to show you around!"

He took off down the slight slope, nearly skipping through the browning grasses and wildflowers. "Alfred! S-slow down!" he called, chasing the exuberant American down the hill and towards a large wooden building with a wide sliding door in the front. Alfred merely spun around as he ran, flashing a huge smile before turning back around and sprinting to the building. Arthur caught up to him shortly – he wasn't exactly athletic, and chasing Alfred in the cold when he could be sleeping wasn't his idea of fun. "Bloody fucking tosser," he huffed out, trying to ignore the burn in his lungs from the cold air.

Alfred only smiled at him, patting him on the back to patronize him further. "This is where the stables and corral are!" he said brightly, twisting a door handle that Arthur hadn't even seen and opening a door. He glanced over at the large, sliding door curiously. "Oh, that's for the horses – when we decide to take 'em for runs or bring the steer in."

"Steer?"

"Ah… Steer, cattle, cows, moo-moos – same thing, really. But if you wanna get technical about it…" Alfred chuckled when Arthur shook his head quickly. "Anyway, I have someone important for you to meet!" he went on, kicking around bits of sawdust as they walked down a center aisle; long stalls lined with hay and small woodchips surrounded them on both sides. Alfred stopped short in front of one of the stalls, making childish kissing noises. "Hey Nova girl! Look who came to meet you!"

Alfred slid open the stall door, reaching up to scratch the horse along her cheeks. Arthur hesitated – he'd never been around horses much, not since he was in school and they went on the occasional fieldtrip to see competitions. Nova was much larger than he'd imagined and he felt himself grow nervous as Alfred simply smothered the brown and black horse with scratches and affection. "C'mon Arthur! Just pet her nose – you'll be fine, I promise. Nova's a good girl!"

"I… I'm not so sure about that," he mumbled, watching Nova snort with a hint worry. "She's awfully… large."

The American stopped lavishing the mare to sidle up next to Arthur with a warm smile. "Hey, she's just a horse. She's prolly more scared of you than you are of her. Nova may be a mule sometimes, but most horses are pretty timid. Here." Gently Alfred cupped his hand beneath Arthur's, twining their fingers together so that the palm of Arthur's hand was facing upwards.

Slowly Nova's nose dipped, the whiskers of her chin tickling at Arthur's fingertips, until her velvety lips brushed curiously against Arthur's upturned palm. "So soft…" Arthur mumbled in a quiet astonishment and Alfred slowly dropped his grip on Arthur's hand. He watched as Arthur gained a little confidence and raised his hand to let his fingers touch Nova's nose, stroking the mare from her nostrils to between her eyes and back again.

Alfred smiled so hard that he felt his cheeks might go numb from emotion. This was something he'd always imagined showing Arthur. Seeing Nova taking an interest in the Briton as well... He wasn't sure what the pang in his heart was, but he was almost positive that it was pure joy. He excused himself a moment and jogged over to the tack room, pulling out a bag of horse treats and stuffing a few in his pockets before rejoining Arthur, who had began scratching Nova behind the ears like he always suggested.

"Hey Arthur, give her one of these," he said softly, placing the clover shaped treat into Arthur's palm and another one in the pocket of Arthur's pants, telling him that it would be for later.

Arthur held the biscuit in his hand for a moment before offering it gently out to Nova, making a sheepish noise when the mare took the treat between her rubbery lips, snuffing at Arthur's hand and tossing her head. Arthur gave a breathy laugh. "I've never done that before," he admitted with a flush. "I've never seen a horse up this close up, either. I've seen many competitions, mind you, but they're so…"

Alfred smiled. "Amazing," he finished, reaching up and patting Nova on the nose as she chewed. "Nova's prolly my best friend – after you of course. We pretty much grew up together, yanno? Got her as a little filly from Toris' ranch… We've been through a lot together, and it's just… it's great to see that she likes you."

"Likes me? Hardly." Arthur ignored the stinging flush of his face and attempted to level Alfred with a sardonic stare, but then suddenly there was loud breathing in his ear and a heavy tickle as Nova leaned into him, snuffing at his hair and nickering at the golden strands with her velveteen lips. "A-ah! My hair's not food!" he blustered, making Alfred snort with suppressed laughter. "Alfred!"

"See! She likes you!" he managed to say through his chuckles. "C'mon, let's bring her out to the corral and let her run a bit ta stretch her legs." Again Alfred dashed off to the tack room, grabbing Nova's lead and a couple more treats; spoiled mule.

He returned to see Arthur more flustered than before, his arms held out in both a defensive and surprised manner as Nova began searching Arthur's pockets with heavy sniffs and wandering lips for extra treats. Arthur pushed at Nova's head feebly, his face bright red in color when he couldn't figure out what he was supposed to do about the situation. "Alfred!" he huffed at the American when he approached. "Your horse is molesting me!"

Alfred guffawed, attempting to smother the sound with his hand as he pushed his way between Arthur and Nova. Of course he'd put the treat in Arthur's pocket for this exact reason, but he knew that if he didn't help out soon, Arthur would get too upset to have fun for a while. He choked on his laugh and pressed his fingers against Nova's sensitive chest, breathing deeply when she took a step back and tossed her head up a bit. He turned back to Arthur with what he hoped was a straight face. "Err, you okay?" he asked carefully, patting Nova along her neck reflexively.

"I… I suppose I'm quite alright. Just startled… I wasn't expecting… but – ah… Yes. I'm fine, thank you." He coughed awkwardly into a hand and sighed.

After a couple of apologies from Alfred, the American worked Nova into her lead and rope, bringing her and Arthur to the gated, indoor corral in the adjacent area. Alfred led Nova around the corral in leisurely circles, pulling Arthur by his side. "We have to walk her," he explained with a good natured shrug. "If we just take her off the lead she'll stand around, 'coz she's lazy. Either that or I could toss a saddle on her and take her for a ride, but I wanna talk to you."

Arthur complied silently, inserting himself next to Alfred and stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his borrowed jacket. "And you do this every day?" he asked, somewhat amazed. He knew that there was a lot of work involved in keeping a ranch of this caliber up and running, but all the small things that were added into the mix as well – it was almost overwhelming. How did these two even keep up with it all? It was truly mind boggling.

Alfred hummed a bit in thought. "We have this schedule – sorta. It's not set in stone or nothin', it's just… how we've ended up doin' things, yanno?" He gave Arthur a contented smile. "Wake up in the mornin' and turn the cattle loose, stock the feed bins and give the horses their oats and hay – Boss, that's Nova's son, actually – normally grazes out with the cattle, but we make sure he gets his oats. Then we get breakfast, and on Monday's we muck the stables, Tuesdays is the feed barn, Wednesdays we take stock, Thursdays are laundry days, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays are general maintenance and to keep up on whatever pops up – like vaccinations or health inspectors, USDA officials – things like that."

"Sounds like a terribly busy lifestyle…"

The American merely shrugged. "It keeps ya busy – and I'm not sayin' ya work constantly, but it's busy and…" He breathed deeply, his mouth screwing over the side as he seemed to think of the right words to express himself properly. "It's like that garden you want," he said suddenly. "Ya work hard at it, diggin' and weedin' and plantin', until you have this huge beautiful garden that makes people say, "Ooo!" and "Ahh!" – that's kinda what ranching is like for me. You put in all the work, and the result is a happy, simple life and it's more than I could ever ask for." Arthur said nothing but allowed the words to ring deep. He'd have to think on that later.

He spent the rest of the afternoon following Alfred around the ranch, taking note of the various buildings and occasionally asking questions when he wasn't sure what the purpose or use of something was. ("Aren't propane tanks dangerous?") But before he knew it, most of the chores were complete at it was well after four in the afternoon.

Before they returned inside, Alfred ducked inside the small rusting shed that he'd parked the truck in the night before, coming back out with a frown etched onto his face.

"What's wrong, poppet?" Arthur asked as they made their way inside the house. Arthur relished in the wave of warmth that lapped at his face like a loving puppy.

Alfred shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it by the door; taking Arthur's to do the same. "Pa took the truck," he mumbled a bit. "That usually means he went to the bar…"

A frightened pang dashed its way through Arthur's chest and, on instinct, he reached for Alfred's hand to grasp within his own. "Alfred…?"

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," Alfred replied with a shrug. "He does his heaviest drinkin' at home anyway, so he'll be just fine. We should make snacks and pick out the movies for our marathon, though. Toris should be over in about an hour or so."

Arthur wasn't sure he wanted the conversation to drop right there, and the way Alfred's shoulders tensed and his mouth turned downwards in the slightest of frowns, it made his heart ache with worry. After glancing around a bit, he slid his arms around Alfred's shoulders, burying his nose into the crook of the American's neck and sighing deeply. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Arthur, it's not your fault," Alfred answered incredulously, his chin brushing against the side of Arthur's head.

The Englishman only shrugged, nuzzling his face further against Alfred's neck. Alfred was warm and smelled of sawdust and earth. "I know, I know… but somehow I feel that it is…" He sighed and pulled away just enough to look Alfred in the face. "If you… ever need to talk – I'm here. Right here."

Alfred gave a tentative smile, reaching up to brush away a lock of hair that threatened to fall into Arthur's eye. "I love you," he whispered happily.

After that, the tension seemed to completely dissipate from the air, and they went about the next hour popping popcorn and sifting through Alfred's horrendously large stack of horror movies and video games.

"Hello, my name's Toris Laurinaitis." The brunet stuck his hand out gingerly at Arthur, a nervous smile plastered on his thin face.

Arthur smiled back, taking the proffered hand and shaking it with a bit more enthusiasm than he truly felt. "Hello Toris Larrann – I'm sorry… could you say that again?"

Toris chuckled. "Laurinaitis," he repeated. "It's alright if you can't pronounce it – hardly anyone can. But you must be Arthur, right? Alfred talks about you all the time, you know."

Alfred made some kind of choking noise in the back of his throat at that and Arthur flushed a bit. "D-does he now? And yes! I'm Arthur Kirkland; a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

"Thanks for inviting me over, guys," Toris said once they were all situated in the basement on an old, springy sofa. Alfred had brought down the wide television from the den, claiming that scary movies were best in the basement where it was dark. Arthur hadn't felt like arguing with him. "My parents went over to Father Vargas' place to celebrate with him and his brother."

"No problem, dude!" Alfred cawed brightly, slapping Toris on the shoulder and bending to pick up four separate DVD's. "Two doesn't make much of a party, yanno? And we have popcorn and a bag of Milkyways and there's soda pop in the fridge – we are so set! Now, me and Art have it narrowed down to four movies to start – which do you think we should watch first; 'Paranormal Activity', 'Dawn of the Dead', 'The Shining', or 'Psycho'?"

Toris smiled nervously. "Oh… uh… I don't know…"

"None of them are very frightening," Arthur drawled.

"Hey! Let him pick! When you're busy hiding under the couch and pissing yourself, I'm just gunna laugh at you!"

After a bit of squabbling between Alfred and Arthur, Toris quickly picked a movie at random and got up to place it in the DVD player. "I uh… I guess we'll start off with 'The Shining'," he said with a passive wave of his free hand. "Does anyone want anything to drink? I'm already heading up there…"

"Oh! Can I get a soda, dude? Please?"

Arthur grumbled a bit. "I suppose I wouldn't be against a fizzy right now…" He flushed when both Alfred and Toris shot him strange looks. "Would you stop that?"

Alfred laughed deeply. "I'm sorry! It's just, sometimes you say the funniest things – no matter how many times I've heard it." He turned his bright grin to Toris. "That makes three sodas! Thanks Toris!"

Once everyone was finally settled with their drinks and food, and the movie was playing with the surrounding lights off, Arthur finally allowed himself to relax. He'd already seen this film, so there wasn't much in the ways of suspense for him and he sipped at his can of coke lazily. Of course he'd never admit that the first time he saw it, he had nearly choked Francis to death for taking him to the cinema just for him to scream in front of a large group of people.

He watched as one of the actors began the "REDRUM" scene, and sighed a little bit. When the axe hit the door in the movie, Arthur had been expecting it – what he hadn't been expecting for Alfred to wedge his head underneath his arm with a tiny shriek, almost knocking the coke can from his hand. "Oh my god, oh my god, they're going to die!" Alfred whispered with fervor.

"No they're not," he grumbled, passing his drink to his other hand to keep Alfred from knocking it. He glanced over to see Toris leaning onto Alfred's shoulder, his eyes screwed shut and nose pressed into a throw pillow, chanting, "This is so messed up, this is so messed up!"

Arthur took another sip of his fizzy drink. He felt like the only sane one in the room.

Arthur stifled a yawn as he moved about the basement with a rubbish bin, picking up cans and trash from the floor. It was two in the morning and they had been watching movies for eight hours in a row. It had to have been a personal record of his – he usually began to feel highly unproductive after about three hours of telly. Sometime over the past hour Toris had fallen asleep behind the sofa with a pillow and throw that had been folded across the back of the sofa. Alfred was sprawled out across the cushions, breathing heavily in his sleep. Honestly, he hardly expected himself to be the last one awake.

Once he was finished cleaning, he settled his hands on his hips and stared at the scene before him. It was cute. It was juvenile. But most of all it was sweet and he was a part of it.

Quietly he stole his way upstairs, pulling the blankets and quilts from both his and Alfred's beds and went back down into the basement. Carefully he placed another blanket over Toris, making sure not to wake the brunet. Then he tucked Alfred's comforter around the sleeping American before wrapping himself up in the quilt that was on his bed and rolling up a smaller blanket to use as a pillow.

He thought it childish to not simply sleep in his bed, but his heart pounded in his ears with a kind of warmth that came from deep within his stomach as he curled up on the front side of the sofa so he could watch Alfred sleep – the American's glasses dangling from his limp fingers.

No, maybe it wasn't childish to want to be a child, even just for a night. He breathed in deeply, noting the scent of must and carpet, before finally letting his eyes close on the serene picture before him.

- End Chapter Twelve -

Yay~! Thank you everyone ever for reading this! Y'all are so nice and sweet and fluffy and I love you~! :3 :D

I wanna give a special thanks to theheroandhisbrit on tumblr for beta-ing this while Lucia-luce is under the weather. Get well soon, Luce – and don't give it to me, dude. I dun want it. D: