Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Or the article 'An Animal You Do Not Want To See On Your Picnic' on . Or Vitali's Chaconne. Or Oberon. Or David Beckham. Or Tom McCarthy and his book: Satin Island. Or Princess Diana's Memorial Park (awesome Pirate Ship playground). Or Greensleeves. Or Star Wars. Or My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

Warning: Some profanity. Some stereotypes. Some inaccuracies (historically, culturally, grammatically). PETA's condemnation. Langham Creek Bridge in Texas is haunted : D. Fairies. Fluff. And overprotective fathers. Alas, this chap just kept going and I had to cut it off at a reasonable place-Sorry Wales, you get bumped to Chap 21.

An: Thank you so much for your reviews! Terima kasih : D Wow! Whoohoo! Sorry for the delay, this chapter kept stretching and I had to cut it twice! (I strongly suspect this fic is gonna be a beast-The way I'm going right now...I'm thinking 300,000 words easy. Any bets? XD)

Chapter 20: A Tickle Curbstomping

Texas couldn't quite suppress his "eep" of distress.

Dammitdammitdammit.

Ghosts? Were there goddamn ghosts here?

The back of his neck tingled with fear.

Dammit, that was no fair. England should've warned them.

He'd have warned Arthur if he'd been travelling near Langham Creek Bridge.

It was just the hospitable thing to do-cautioning folks about paranormal hot spots!

He barely had time to react as Arthur shoved Alfred into his arms.

His little brother curled up against him, "Don' worry Tex, nobody can kick somebody out of a house...like...Arthur can. Ask Francis."

Arthur twirled his wrist with a flourish and pulled his wand out of thin air.

The star at the top of glowed brightly-illuminating glittering eyes in the corner.

"Show yourselves!" Arthur hissed. "NOW."

Double "eep." That was the same tone of voice he'd heard out of the Briton, back when England had thought Tex was responsible for Alfred's disappearance.

Six little things fluttered towards them-hovering in midair.

Texas backed up several spaces and reached over and turned the light switch.

The little things squinted their dark black eyes as light flooded the room.

Arthur's shoulders suddenly slumped and he slapped a hand against his forehead and muttered: "Dartmoor Pixies."

"Huh?"

More unease dripped into Tex's stomach as he took in the pointed faces, the large batty ears, the dragonfly wings….and the spiny little teeth.

"They're Dartmoor pixies" Arthur commented-as if that explained anything. "Thank God, for one terrible moment I feared we had a Bodoach on our hands."

Arthur crossed the room and opened the window. He pointed his wand at it.

"Out."

There was an unhappy chattering of strange inhuman voices.

"No. Alfred cannot play with you. He needs his rest. Yes, he does. No-no-I said no. This is not up for discussion, I-Damnation..." Arthur turned and looked at Alfred-eyebrows knitting together sympathetically. "Dearheart, these are probably your "ghosts," aren't they?"

Alfred made a drowsy noncommittal sound.

Furious, he whipped back to face the strange creatures, "Have you been following my poor Alfred around? Frightening him?"

The fairies bobbed up and down-avoiding his gaze.

"Are you disobeying your Queen's orders? I was very clear: I will introduce Alfred to both courts next Yule."

A myriad of sour expressions met that remark.

"He isn't ready for so much excitement and you'll wear him out."

They made sounds of protest.

"You know full well you will."

They chattered something Texas couldn't quite make out, but it was clearly derisive.

The Englishman spluttered, "St-stuffy? Priggish? I most certainly am not."

They continued on.

"Wanted to play?" Arthur replied incredulously "He wanted to sleep and you pulled him out of bed-Oh that's enough out of you! Out. Out. Out. Get you gone, little beasts."

His wand crackled threateningly with red sparks and the pixies shot out of the room slipping through the window's bars easily.

Arthur closed and latched the window "Stuffy? Hmph. Good riddance. I can't believe they'd disobey-"

"WHAT IN TARNATION DID I JUST WITNESS?!"

Al whimpered at the loud exclamation.

"Shh!" Arthur hissed, speeding over and lifting him out of Tex's hold, "He's trying to rest."

"What-what-what did I just-"

"Such an overreaction" Arthur chuckled "Did you see Alfred panic? No, you didn't."

"They seemed...familiar" Alfred mumbled.

Arthur looked like Christmas came earlier, enthusiastically affirming that statement with: "You used to play with pixies often when you were very small. More than once I found a few stowing away on my ship, just to see you Sweet."

"...oh…" Alfred yawned and pressed his face against Arthur's shoulder.

"Yes. So those were the ones responsible for our pixie infestation" Arthur hummed-letting his wand vanish back into the magical void. "Dartmoor pixies...Harmless. I just haven't had one of those since...well, since you were all very young. They're extremely fond of children."

Alfred sighed and curled his fingers into Arthur's shirt.

The Briton smiled, "Now I think a cup of warm milk will set us all to rights."

Twenty minutes and several cups later, Texas was staring down a potent glower from Arthur.

The brunette glared back, "Deal with it."

"You're being bloody ridicul-."

"Yeah, well...you're not makin' him go back into the creepy room," Texas pointed at Alfred who was fast asleep lying between them. His head was pillowed on Arthur's bicep expression content, mouth...drooling just a little bit.

But that was only fair. Tex had been drooled on plenty over the years-it was Arthur's turn.

"..."

"Have you learned nuthin' from our horror movies? Ya don't go in the woods. Ya don't make out in the cemetery. Ya don't take a bath and ya don't split up. Sorry partner, I am bunking with you. Deal with it."

Arthur slowly awoke to the sound of music...and snoring.

He unceremoniously pushed Tex's head of curly hair off his shoulder-cursing the inconvenience of unwelcome bedfellows.

Texas continued on unrepentantly.

Fearful that Alfred had been squashed under his brother's weight, Arthur immediately looked under the bedsheets.

But Alfred wasn't there.

Now suspecting the identity of the mysterious music maker, Arthur slipped out of bed and pulled on his robe and slippers as he padded downstairs in pursuit.

The music led him to the back garden where he found Alfred playing his violin. The boy was up and dressed in denims and a jumper.

His eyes were shut in concentration as he played Vitali's Chaconne...G minor.

Arthur felt his jaw drop a bit..

Would never have guessed Alfred knew that one.

He couldn't be prouder to hear it either…

As Arthur approached the small cement garden bench, he noticed two pixies from the previous night spying on his child from a low branch of a tree.

Arthur marched over and gave the branch a firm thwack!

The little pests gasped and bumped into each other in their haste to depart.

God. Keeping them away was going to be more difficult than he first thought.

If King Oberon could only see his granddaughter's lack of control over her subjects; it was a sad day when the citizens of the Seelie Court were less rule abiding than the Unseelie's.

Arthur shook his head and sat down on the bench.

He could worry over that later, he needed to appreciate Alfred's music now.

He couldn't keep from smiling. Given the high level of mastery, he was witnessing now...it was hard to believe that he'd known a time where "Baa Baa Black Sheep" had been at the high end of Alfred's musical ability.

He enjoyed seeing the determination in Alfred's face and the grace in his movements in an activity that didn't involve combat or weaponry.

As the child finished, his eyes opened and he let out a little startled gasp upon being discovered.

"Bravo" Arthur praised, clapping. "Well done. I'm so glad to see you've kept at it all these years."

The boy turned a brilliant red, "You-you...when…?"

"We'll have to perform a duet soon. Though you'll need to be forgiving with me, I fear my skills may have rusted a bit. I usually practiced during long voyages, with airplanes being in style now..."

"...uh...um…" the child scuffed a shoe "kay."

"Brill. We usually have a music day, you know. At the manor. I can help you select a piece, if you'd like. Though what you played just now would be good. Truly. You may even find that you'll want to collaborate. Kaoru is a wonderful pianist, you know."

"Hmm."

"You've...you've just been practicing ever since..."

Ever since the 1680s...

Ever since the Revolution...

Alfred gave a shy nod.

Ever since...

Abruptly he thought of the sad, delipidated Music Room in Kirkland Hall.

"So proud of you. That...that is dedication."

Alfred bit his lip as his cheeks went pink.

"I hope you'll do me the honor of playing more often...now."

Blue eyes met green, "Kay. But I mainly just know old stuff and country stuff…"

Alfred shuffled over and perched on the edge of the bench.

"Well, I'm very intrigued in the 'old' stuff."

Alfred contemplated his instrument.

"So...Sweet, I was thinking today was a good day for a picnic."

Alfred nodded distractedly.

"Unless you'd prefer dining in a rest-"

"Arthur?"

"Y-yes, pet?" He answered; trying to keep his voice light, despite feeling a bit hurt that he was being called by his first name once more.

"D-dad?"

"Yes?"

"You…" he fidgeted with his bow and kicked his feet.

"Yes?"

Alfred stared at his feet, "You...you still like Greensleeves...right?"

Arthur gave the small gloved hand in his an affectionate squeeze and was delighted when it was returned.

Oh yes, the walk over to Kensington Park was splendid.

A few holiday decorations here and there made it festive, the people were all bustling around, there were flowers blooming, and Alfred had played Greensleeves for him that morning.

O how that brought back memories of sunny days of singing while hanging laundry. Little Alfred would sit in the basket handing him clothes-pegs and joining in on the chorus with "Gweensweeves was all my joy, Gweensweeves was my dewight…"

Arthur tried to assure himself that they kept getting stares from passersby because of Tex's ridiculous outfit...and not Arthur's stupidly giddy expression.

He readjusted his hold on the picnic basket in his other hand. He'd had to clean off the dust this morning. If his other children were given the choice between dining in a fine restaurant or on a blanket over grass, it was no contest.

The chance of bugs, rain, grass rash, sweat stains, grass stains, mud, sunburns, and limited food selection (some things just couldn't keep well) usually saw it removed from the list of "fun family activities."

It was always Alfred, who'd been his happy-go-lucky-picnic-goer.

This basket was finally going to see more use. (In the past, it had been depressing packing it for one and he'd finally just started stowing it away in the far recesses of his pantry.)

Thankfully, Texas appeared to be a picnic-goer as well. He hadn't fussed at all as he outlined their plans for the day, and he didn't roll his eyes when Arthur asked the younger man to carry the football.

He didn't dare ask Alfred (he knew the child wouldn't be able to resist playing with it and the idea of him running into the street after it…)

Arthur took a deep breath and forced it out. Wy had done that once. Yes, she'd been younger than Alfred was now and Arthur had managed to snatch her out of harm's way but…

Alfred was currently dangling-stretching as far as he could to brush a hand over bushes and tree trunks as they walked along.

"Dear" he chided "You're blocking the way. Other people are approaching."

"O-oh" he hastily drew back to Arthur's side-genuinely unaware that he'd been in the way.

"Now, now. No harm done. We just don't walk on that side here, Sweet."

He'd probably repeated that hundreds of times, but it'd yet to sink in.

"Now, when we're at Kirkland Manor in an effort to make things fair (as there's a lot of compromise necessary whenever so many people are sharing one roof) we usually let everyone pick an event or special meal or outing-"

"STAR WARS!" the child blurted "Daddy, Daddy, DadDadDad pleasepleaseplease. Star Wars."

"Er…"

Usually it was something cultured; a museum, a ballet, a restaurant meal, an orchestral concert, meeting with an author or artist or scientist...

"I...I'll see what I can do."

Blasted thing was probably sold out.

Tex scoffed, "Al, there's no way he can get that many tickets in so short a time. And not everyone's into spacey stuff either. Be reasonable."

"Oh…" Alfred's face fell and Arthur felt an immediate swell of indignation.

If he called in enough favors, perhaps asked the Queen, he could probably get some sort of private showing for them and-

"Daddy? Do they all like Star Wars?"

"Er…"

Alfred's rapt attention at that moment gave him no chance to piece together a gentle let down.

"...erm…"

Because a loud, Science-Fiction blockbuster, brimming with CGI and explosions just wasn't everyone's cuppa.

"...oh…" Alfred mumbled.

"Sweet-" They could go after! They could go on New Year's Eve. Or a bit later when the audience of devoted fans had perhaps thinned a bit and movie-goers stopped dressing up.

"No...I don't wanna drag everybody there...Oh! We could do laser tag!"

"Now you're thinkin'" Tex grinned.

"H-huh?"

"Everybody likes laser tag!" Alfred nodded "It's fun! The lights are cool! And it's stress-relieving! And I'm getting weapon withdrawal-so it'll make me feel better. And you get to wear armor! Which is kinda medieval-ly, so you'll like it too!"

"Er...yes."

Yes...they could do that. Though Arthur would have to do everything in his power to assure they were put on the same team. And medieval armor in no shape or way proved similar to laser tag armor. Perhaps, he'd let Alfred dress up in some of his old armor and chain mail and figure that out for himself.

Alfred released a cheer of delight and swung their hands happily as they entered the park.

Perhaps, in light of Mathieu's recent behavior. Arthur half-expected Texas to tease his younger brother for holding his father's hand. The lad surprised him by taking up Alfred's free hand with his own, which allowed both adults to swing the child between them.

By the time, Arthur had picked a spot and was spreading the blanket out-Alfred was a happy ball of energy darting to and fro as he and Texas chased each other. It was good to see his spirits so high, though it did make Arthur rather nervous when Texas hefted the child over his head.

It would've been different if Arthur was the one doing it.

He would never drop his boy.

Arthur was pleased to see how Alfred tucked into the meal: sandwiches, juice, crisps, grapes, cubes of cheese, and small rolls of meat were hardly extravagant...But you'd have thought Alfred was feasting with the gods on Olympus.

Alfred devoured his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with relish.

Arthur chuckled and gently removed several smears of peanut butter from Alfred's face with a napkin.

"This was all really good, thanks" Alfred smiled.

"Good."

When Arthur finished, he stretched and laid down-staring up contentedly at the blue sky.

At the bottom of the basket, he'd packed Tom McCarthy's Satin Island. It was high time to see if the novel deserved praise or not.

Arthur yawned; He just wanted a little rest first and then he'd crack the book open.

Alfred crawled to his side, leaned over, and pouted, "Are you gonna take a nap?"

Spoiled little thing, he thought fondly, expecting Father to spend every minute entertaining you.

Arthur laughed at the accusation and ruffled the child's hair, "I just might."

Little fingers began toying with the buttons on Arthur's coat. He couldn't bring himself to feel annoyed. A reprimand on respecting his person and his belongings would only do harm. Instead, he reached right back adjusting the collar of Alfred's jacket to fold correctly.

Alfred didn't freeze or flinch or watch him warily and Arthur let out a breath, he didn't realize he was even holding. The child was at last overcoming some of his inhibitions regarding personal space.

"Are you tired?" Alfred asked; blue eyes filled with concern.

"Oh, just a little."

And then he took on a knowing look, "It's cuz Texas snores."

"I don't snore-" Texas growled.

"He snores-"

"Well, not loud-"

"Snores loudly-"

"Yeah well, sometimes you drool!"

"Yup, but drooling is still quiet. Which makes me easier to sleep beside...so I win. Not by a lot. But I do still win."

And then Texas started to snicker, "I love that you don't even deny it anymore."

Alfred snickered too, "How could I? You both know. You snore, I drool, and Dad cuddles."

Arthur felt his face heat up and tried to stammer a denial.

Alfred blinked in surprise, "Hey, it's not a big deal. For what it's worth, that was one of the reasons I always chose you over Mattie when I had to share a cold, muddy Foxhole in winter 1917. It was freezing there and everybody I liked kept dying. The last thing I needed was Mattie stealing the blankets. I just can't do it when it's jungle-ly. Then, it's just too humid to snuggle...all smelly and sweaty and ew..."

"..." Arthur wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. On the one hand it was rather embarrassing to have that habit called out. On the other...hearing it phrased in that context...It painted a rather sad image of Alfred trying to covertly glean some scrap of affection from him because he didn't seem to think he would receive comfort from his father by asking.

"Hey Al, you remember that one picnic we had when that alligator-"

"Hell yeah, I do!

Arthur frowned, "Alfred, I want you to know-"

He wanted to continue that conversation.

"Scaly bastard ate my burger!"

"Language!" He muttered distractedly; he wanted Alfred to know that he could come to him when he was distraught. He didn't need to run off (as he had after Canada's "gift") and he didn't need to bottle up his grief (as he had-shivering and sniffling miserably in 1917).

Tex, chuckled "Australia would've been proud-"

"Alfred...you can always-"

"He had to pay! And yeah, PETA will be angry with me, but...he had to pay."

"Made the most beautiful boots Art-"

"Artie!" A woman's voice laughed.

Arthur sat up, "E-eva?!"

"Eva!" Alfred exclaimed, waving frantically.

"Hello there!" The woman greeted, setting her sunglasses on the top of her head, "Enjoying the odd weather? We are."

She indicated to the little girl hiding behind her leg, "This is my Emma. Emma say hello to Artie and Alfie, won't ya?"

The little girl mumbled something and then hid her face against her mother's leg.

"I'll translate" Eva snickered "Hello gents, my name's Emma and I love unicorns."

The child nodded and mutely pointed to her ruffled shirt, which had an adorable fluffy white unicorn on it.

"Unicorns" Alfred nodded "I'm not really an authority on the subject. That's up Dad's alley. He's more qualified to chat about it than me. But I think they're okay. They sleep in closets-building nests made from pilfered left socks. And they like popcorn."

Eva and her daughter giggled, "Oh Artie, he's hilarious."

Arthur felt his eyebrow twitch. One: because Eva thought Alfred was joking. Two: because Eva clearly didn't believe in mythological creatures. Three: he'd given Alfred very clear instructions when he gifted that unicorn to him on what their diet was supposed to be comprised of. And four: that unicorn was getting territorial and he and Alfred would have to house train her properly.

"Y'all gonna introduce me to your lady friend?"

Eva gave Arthur a questioning look.

He shook his head: "Spain."

Texas tipped his hat, "A pleasure to meet you both, ma'am. I'm Tex."

"Eva."

"Any friend of Al's is a friend of mine. 'Specially the lovely ones."

Eva cleared her throat with a bit more force than was necessary and tried not to blush.

Arthur sent the flirt a warning glare.

As the children played "keep away" with Texas (throwing his hat back and forth between them and Tex indulged them with halfhearted swipes and tickle attacks), Eva and Arthur got to talking.

First about upcoming concerts, then about Molly who, according to Eva, was already seeing someone new.

And then...

"Bless him, he's a wee thing" Eva remarked softly.

He followed her gaze and felt his stomach flop a bit.

Seeing their children side by side...it was almost alarming.

Emma was four. Alfred was seven. And yet, Alfred was barely half a head taller than her.

He thought of his poor Roanoke.

His tiny baby...

So small…

So very small…

Frightfully small...he'd have fit in Arthur's hands…

He'd seen noblemen and women turn their noses up at such delicate heirs-sending them off (minutes old) with nursemaids-sometimes almost impatiently waiting for them to die so that they might steel themselves to try again. At that time, they were all ignorant of what "kangaroo care" could've done for those children. Often what he knew now made him regret their fates.

It had been easy pinning their deaths to cruel destiny and poor breeding and bad weather and rotten luck. Waving it all off as unfortunate but necessary-they didn't need a weak successor.

Begrudgingly, he felt a wave of gratitude towards Iroquois. Though she was a terrible mother figure in his opinion…at least she hadn't allowed his child to be wholly abandoned. And his little one survived long enough for Arthur to find him and take him underwing.

"Premature" he admitted gruffly, knowing full well Eva had already guessed and was waiting for him to say it. If she'd done even the most minimal of research, she'd have read about his early colonizing days in America: the abandoned forts, the shortage of willing volunteers, the lack of food and supplies and shelter and protection. "But he'll grow up into a strong, strapping lad just you wait!"

She raised an eyebrow at his defensive reply-likely surprised by the fierce, certainty in his voice.

The fact of the matter was he'd already seen the young man Alfred would be. He was small for his age now, but he'd shoot up spectacularly during his teenage years. It was probably the first time, that thinking of that growth spurt brought Arthur relief.

Yes; Alfred would grow soon enough...there was no reason to rush it.

So Alfred was small now…

So what…

Hmph...acting like his size was some sort of issue.

It wasn't.

He was healthy and beautiful and sweet and he told her so.

Alfred took care not to frown as Eva ruffled his hair...but he didn't smile either, only Arthur was allowed to do that.

And that was just cuz he was old.

He glanced at Arthur who was having an honest heart-to-heart conversation with Emma on the virtues of...My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

So Arthur was a Brony...how unsurprising…

Still, when you were super old you got away with hair ruffling, and cheek pinching, and sappy nicknames, and My Little Pony.

"We're heading over to the Diana Memorial Playground. There's a huge wooden pirate ship, ya know? Ya could do Arthur a favor and pretend to be plundering the Spanish Main. Let Daddy relive the glory days of being a pir-"

"I was not a pirate!" Arthur insisted.

His interest piqued at the thought of an awesome ship that wouldn't make him sea sick.

Except...

He had an instinctive feeling that it'd be crawling with kids and…

"I was a privateer. Thank you very much."

It wouldn't be like when he was an adult clowning around for the little kids running around there.

He would be the little kid.

"...with the Queen's blessing…"

And that would be like accepting that this new form was here to stay and he couldn't change it…

"No thanks!" Alfred replied "I have to prove my supreme star-spangled greatness by defeating them in soccer."

He pointed at the ball lying on the edge of their blanket.

"I see. Well, do go easy on Arthur. He's still stinging from the last World Cup."

Arthur scowled as mother and daughter laughed and gave a cheery goodbye.

Had Alfred known then how much he was gonna suck at soccer, he'd have popped that stupid ball.

Alfred's main skill in the game had always been by being aggressive and while he'd done okay in an indoor scuffle with Sealand...

Now that he was up against Arthur and Tex…

Lacking his previous muscular form (which he'd used a virtual battering ram-body slamming into people to get the ball) he was terrible.

He was reduced to kicking shins and hitting people behind the knees.

"Dammit boy, I don't have the ball" Arthur barked rubbing his shin "Red Card. God. Red Card!"

Alfred chewed on his bottom lip in frustration.

Their half-field-every-man-for-himself soccer game just wasn't going his way.

Tex had already scored twice-kicking the ball into the designated goal spot between a trash can and a scraggly tree.

"Must be in the blood" Tex grinned which made Al pout.

"Channel David Beckham" Arthur muttered to himself repeatedly. As if he could just page the man's skills.

Did that actually work? It almost made him tempted to try...only...he couldn't imagine England would be pleased if he overheard America saying "channel George Washington" or "Benjamin Franklin" to himself whenever he needed to be impressive.

Before he could give it a try, he swore he saw something in the bushes. A raccoon? He'd heard that the furry bandits were sometimes kept as pets here and ended up getting loose.

It'd certainly explain what he saw. The way the shrub shook-whatever was in it was too large to be a squirrel or a bird or-

BOP!

The ball hit him soundly on the head and bounced off and away.

Texas guffawed, slapping a knee as Arthur panicked.

"I'm fine" Alfred barked and chased after the ball. This was probably gonna be his only chance to have the ball since their longer legs kept giving them the advantage.

There!

Among some mushrooms!

He was about to get it when two hands abruptly seized him under the armpits and lifted him up.

Arthur was red faced and wheezing.

"H-hey…" Alfred grumbled as his feet dangled "that's gotta be cheating or a foul or a black flag or something. I-"

"I'll get it."

The tone was low, deep, and surprisingly serious.

Alfred stared as Arthur carefully set him down several feet away from where the ball was. Curious now, the boy watched as the Englishman deliberately trod on two mushrooms- breaking the circle before entering it and picking up the ball-he also took care to stomp on a few more on his way out.

"D-daddy?"

Only the goalie was supposed to touch it with their hands...were they not playing anymore?

Arthur took a deep breath, "That...is a fairy ring."

"The mushroom...circle? Oval? Kinda kidney-shaped really-"

"Alfred" His name was said too seriously and Alfred stilled.

Arthur rested a hand on his shoulder, "It's a fairy ring: Elferingewort."

"Elfer…"

"Elferingewort" Arthur repeated, his hand moved to cup Alfred's cheek, "And I want you to avoid them; they're bad luck. Walking through them...even when they're inactive may garner you unwanted attention from fae."

"How are they made?"

"Dancing...it's where they dance often."

"Oh."

Well, that didn't sound too bad. He thought it was gonna be something along the lines of ritual sacrifice or devil conjuring or...something.

Unbidden, a dim memory cropped up of him dancing around toadstools as someone played a harp.

"If you see any mushrooms in the garden, you let me know."

He swallowed and nodded, "Kay."

"Alfred, it's important."

"Yes, sir."

"Good lad."

Arthur didn't want to play soccer after that. He tossed the ball to Tex and declared him the winner of the three way match.

Not that Alfred really minded-it just meant it was easier to pull him into a game of tag around their blanket.

He was just about to show off and do a cartwheel when he heard a tinkling, metallic sound.

There…

Shimmering as it hung on a low branch...was some kind of necklace with a winding key hanging off it.

"Got you!" Arthur crowed-his arms coming around Alfred and lifting him off the ground.

Arthur spun them around again and again and again until the world became a swirl of color and then he carefully used a "side fall" to flop them onto the blanket. Since Alfred was always involved in "stage combat" whenever he was in a play, he recognized the move instantly. He'd thought himself a master, but...dammit...Arthur was better.

And then the old man began an epic tickle battle which became a tickle curbstomping when Texas combined forces with Arthur. The traitor!

By the time Alfred even thought to look for the necklace again…it was gone.

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