May 25th, 2014
AUTHOR: isap8
May 25th, 2014
May 25th 1961
"Shush Artie!" Alfred said in a loud whisper as he sat, unblinkingly, and watched the television with excitement. John F. Kennedy had to be one of Alfred's favourite bosses yet, other than George Washington, of course. The man spoke so perfectly, his words captivating and his promises larger than life. And although Arthur would never admit it himself, he rather liked seeing Alfred this excited.
Arthur stepped into the living room and took a seat on the bright orange couch beside Alfred, watching with him as some of the most memorable words on earth were spoken.
"First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the Earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish," the man said through the telly. Alfred simply stared wide eyes, his mouth hanging open like a landed fish as he tried to process the information.
He only had one goal then. I'm going to the moon.
…:…:…
Arthur had begun to grow worried about Alfred's sudden obsession; his hours spent pouring over books and studying physics with almost childlike excitement. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't stop for more than two seconds to do anything. His constant companion was the book under his arm, loose sheets of paper shoved randomly between the pages of the monstrous work of nonfiction, each absolutely covered in Alfred's almost illegible scribbling of formula upon formula.
"Alfred, you'll get sick if you keep pushing yourself this way," Arthur said, his brow furrowed in worry. Alfred didn't even look up, his eyes scanning the page before him as he worked rapidly along the page. "You should get some sleep."
"I can sleep when I'm dead, Artie," the younger of the two men said cheerfully, a cup of coffee in his right hand and the pen in his left. Besides, he didn't have time. If he didn't work, they'd develop a spacecraft before he could finish and they would leave without him. He had one chance to get to the moon and by golly he was going to take it.
The American had lived a life with borders he could not cross. He was born into a world with set rules, with specific ideas. To be able to break people's ideas of what could and could not be done, that excited him like nothing else. Finally, he would show the world that he wasn't a child anymore. He would show them how much he could do.
"I'll be in bed if you need me," Arthur said finally with a sigh as he turned around to hide the hint of hurt in his eyes.
The bed was far too cold without his warm American beside him.
…:…:…
Arthur had had enough. It had only been a few months but dammit he was tired of being shoved aside. He woke up that morning frustrated and impatient, marching into the kitchen in his robe and glaring down at the obviously tired but still awake American. "Alfred, for Pete's sake, stop this madness now!"
He was angry. He was angry with Alfred for letting his health and hygiene deteriorate this way. He was angry with his government for putting this mad idea into the boy's hyperactive mind. But it was the way that he was pushed aside that angered Arthur the most, the way that Alfred treated him like nothing as he poured over the books. Arthur wasn't the most important thing in the insufferable boy's world anymore, and he missed the sweet smiles and warm kisses, the cuddling on cold nights and all the culinary mishaps they'd shared. He wanted his Alfred back…
Arthur was nearly fighting back tears as he angrily ripped the physics book from Alfred's hand, hurling it against the wall in a furious fashion before he glared down at the bewildered American. "Stop, Alfred! Dammit, just stop!"
The younger of the two was just watching in shock at the outbreak, unsure of how to react to the fury in his lover's eyes and the tears that were streaming down his cheeks as Arthur snapped. And for the first time in centuries, Alfred saw genuine fear in Arthur's usually calm eyes. "Arthur please…"
"N-No!" Arthur croaked, his voice breaking as the initial fury gave way to the pain he'd been feeling. He hated looking this broken. It was an insult to his past power, to the image he had built up. It was the wall he'd never let come down before, the one thing that had always kept him from getting hurt. "Stop. Stop this…this obsessing! Stop the damn studying and just…just come back. I want you back."
…:..:…
"I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing and hope that my dreams will come true." The oh so famous voice of Paul McCartney filled the room as well as Arthur's ear as Alfred whispered them to him. While the American astronaut was not the best singer, Arthur couldn't complain. He was dancing with him, and not caring who watched, with only a week before Alfred's flight. He didn't care about all the whispers, the people who watched them dance with a look of shock and confusion.
Please come home to me, Alfred.
…:..:…
"Alfred!"
Arthur was almost crying as he ran past the spectators barricade to go greet his boyfriend, pushing his way past the guards as Alfred grinned and held his arms out to the Brit, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I missed you, you bloody yank," he muttered as he held the man in the spacesuit close, feeling dwarfed by him but not caring in the slightest. He was back in his arms and that was all that mattered. His astronaut was back home.