Hello everyone! I'm sorry that I've taken so long to post this next chapter. I am in my final semester of college and it has been hellish this last week and a half. Not a whole lot happens in this chapter but I hope that you enjoy it anyway. I'm getting ready to amp some things up in this fic and I'm excited. I have some ideas that I'm not certain on yet, we'll see. But for now, I'm very happy with where this fic is. This is something that has been in my head so long that seeing it typed is an exhilarating experience. It's even more exhilarating to see people reading it. So thank you. Thank you for your time. Thank you for your favorites and follows. Thank you for your reviews. I truly cannot express how much it means to me.
Chapter Five: A Reunion
True to his word, England met Alfred and Arthur at nine in the morning the next day at the Church Street Inn. Neither had slept well the night before. Arthur had been consumed with thoughts of Alfred telling him that when they were back he would never speak to him again, and Alfred was filled with guilt about what he had done and a nostalgia for a time he wished he didn't miss.
"Good morning, gentlemen," England said to them. "How are you this morning?"
"Splendid, thank you," Arthur answered, only slightly sarcastic.
"Fine," Alfred answered, tired and a little grumpy.
"Alright, then, I have a carriage out front to take us to the house," England said, turning around and leading the way. "Upon arriving, I will go inside, pay the staff, and send them away. Then I will put some tea on and talk to my boy," he paused and turned to look at Alfred. "I've already said this to my future self, but I think it would be better if I explained it to Alfred and then you all came in so as not to confuse him. Don't you agree?"
Alfred thought it had been a rhetorical question, but seeing the look on England's face he realized that he was actually asking for Alfred's opinion. "Uh, yeah," he answered. "He'll get it, I think, but yeah, just you is probably better."
The ride to the house was comfortable. The carriage bumped and jostled, but for the time, it was a pretty smooth ride. England tried to play the proper host and would make small talk about the things in the city and would ask vague questions that would get vague answers about how things were when Alfred and Arthur were from.
Upon arriving at the house, all three men exited the carriage. "Alright," England said. "Feel free to roam the grounds, I'm sure you remember them," he said, brow furrowing as he thought about this situation and wondered again how he was going to explain this to the little boy inside.
England turned around and walked up to the door. He took a deep breath, smiled, and pushed it open. From inside a maid yelled, shocked, "Why, Mr. Kirkland! You're home!" which was followed by the sound of frantic running and a tiny voice yelling "IGGY! You're home early!" Alfred and Arthur watched as England's frame shook as he absorbed the shock of the little boy jumping into his arms. "I'm so glad you're home!" America said, head buried in England's neck as he cried happy tears. The boy's voice still had a tint of an English accent and it made Arthur's heart squeeze painfully to hear him speak.
"I am as well," England said, closing the door behind him.
The shutting of the door caused Alfred to jump and made Arthur shake his head as both snapped out of the state they had been in watching the exchange. They both looked at each other for a long moment before Alfred turned away and walked off in the direction of a small lake at the edge of the property. Arthur knew exactly where he was heading because it had been one of Alfred's favorite places when he was young.
Arthur watched Alfred walk away until he could only barely make him out skipping rocks down on the bank of the lake. Arthur sighed and headed towards the garden where there was a stone bench. At this time the bench was still fairly new. Arthur sat down, feeling his age and his actions weighing on him. The more he thought about it, the more he needed a drink.
Arthur took a deep breath and looked around. In his mind, he could see Alfred running around the grounds when he was young, frantically searching for some imaginary location he had made up. He could see Alfred running in the rain and jumping in puddles despite Arthur's pleas for him to not do that and the later scolding that would accompany such actions. He could see Alfred storming out and slamming the door of a different house farther north, running into the yard and turning towards the building to yell about how unfair his life was. He could see Alfred telling him there was going to be a war. He could see Alfred in a blue coat in the rain.
Arthur shook his head when something wet hit his face. Was it starting to rain now? He looked up at the stunning blue sky and was surprised when the water continued down his cheeks before he realized he was crying. Yes, he definitely needed a drink.
Alfred stood down on the banks of the lake skipping rocks. When was the last time he had done this? It seemed like he never had time anymore for stuff like this. In a way being here was nice. It was nice to have a break from all the responsibilities. As much as Alfred said he would never "unplug" being here made him reconsider. It was nice to not have a constant ding from his cell phone alerting him of a new text message or email or another meeting reminder or a Facebook notification.
It was also sad being here now. Arthur was acting weird, all high and mighty. Alfred couldn't help but think it was because they were in the Empire Days now. Maybe the exchange on the ship had been a bit much. It wasn't that Alfred really never wanted to talk to him again, but he wouldn't mind an apology. But Alfred thought he knew Arthur pretty well. Arthur wasn't going to apologize to him. Hell, half the time he couldn't stand him. So what was the point?
Alfred heard sounds from the house and glanced up to see the staff leaving, smiling and laughing. They were probably glad to have been paid. Alfred turned back to the lake and sighed. Being here really was a strange and terrible reminder of what had been. If he was being honest, it made him sad for his short childhood.
And, if he was still being honest, he was a little worried about how Arthur might react when they made it in the house and he saw little America. He knew Arthur didn't always handle things well, especially when they came to him. Who knew what the older man may do?
Someone was approaching behind him and he turned to see it was Arthur. When he recognized that it was modern Arthur, he quickly jumped to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, hoping to appear as if he hadn't just been thinking about him. Arthur was looking up into the trees overhead, his eyes appeared a little red but Alfred couldn't tell for sure because Arthur refused to make eye contact with him.
"Yeah?" Alfred said, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
"We've been called to the house," Arthur answered, voice quiet, still not looking at Alfred.
"Cool," Alfred said, trying to ignore the fact that now Arthur wouldn't even look at him and how badly that hurt. Alfred took a deep breath and walked by Arthur, making sure to hit his shoulder. "Let's go then."
Alfred stalked up to the house with Arthur a few steps behind him. He immediately felt a little bit bad about shoulder checking Arthur a moment ago, but Arthur wouldn't even look at him. So, really, it was Arthur's fault.
They arrived at the door to find England standing in the doorway. Behind him, a pair of bright blue eyes peeked out from behind his legs. England looked lovingly down on the little boy as he gently guided him to stand in front of him. "Alfred," he said, and Alfred unintentionally looked up at him before realizing he wasn't being talked to. "This is me from the future, and this," he said, angling the boy to look at Alfred, "is you."
America's eyes widened and he seemed to forget his momentary shyness as he stepped closer to Alfred. "Wow!" the little boy said, looking up at Alfred and making him feel slightly uncomfortable. "You're so tall!" He turned back to look at England. "I'm so tall!"
England nodded. "Yes, he is quite tall. But, Alfred, don't be rude," he said, nodding towards the two men.
America turned back around. "Right! I'm sorry! My name is Alfred Kirkland!" He stuck out his little hand to shake both of theirs. "Nice to meet you!"
Arthur shook his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said softly, his voice sad.
"Nice to meet ya, little dude," Alfred said awkwardly. What kind of trippy bullshit is happening right now? Is this how Iggy has felt for like a week now? God and they're like the same age? So like? How is he doing it?
"Why don't you come in?" England said, holding his arm out and allowing Arthur and Alfred to step back into a memory. The house seemed smaller than Alfred remembered it. In his head, it was a massive building with no end, but really it was just a house. To Arthur, it was exactly as he expected.
England led them to a drawing-room where he had set up a nice porcelain tea set, painted with delicate pink flowers. England sat in a high back chair and gestured towards the small couch which Alfred and Arthur sat on together. America was sitting on the floor at England's feet. He was so excited, normally he wasn't allowed to stay for tea with grown-ups but today he was. And these weren't just any grown-ups. It was Iggy and it was him but big and tall and strong.
England began preparing three cups of tea when he looked up. "Do you take your tea the same way?" he asked Arthur.
Arthur nodded. "That would be lovely."
England prepared it and handed it to the man before looking at Alfred. "And how do you take yours?"
Alfred opened his mouth to respond before he realized he honestly didn't know. He only ever had tea at Arthur's house and Arthur always prepared it for him. He looked quickly over at Arthur and was mortified to see Arthur was watching him. God, this was so embarrassing.
Arthur sighed. "Give him what you gave me, but double the sugar you put in it." Alfred could feel his face heating up. He was embarrassed and a little angry. He didn't need Arthur to speak for him. But he also had no idea how he would like the tea. As far as he was concerned, tea was only good for dumping in harbors, but he also didn't want to be rude especially when he was trying to get home and concealing so much about the revolution.
England raised an eyebrow before he nodded and did what had been told to him. Alfred took the cup and sipped at the tea. It was exactly how he liked it at Arthur's house and that made him a little mad.
The silence in the room was overwhelming. No one was talking. The only noise came from the clinking of the teacups on the table and the floor creaking under America who was so absolutely excited that he couldn't stop bouncing up and down. He kept glancing around at the room at all the faces in front of him. This had to be the coolest thing that had ever happened to anyone ever.
"Alfred," England whispered, stern but not harshly.
"Oh, sorry," America said, no longer bouncing. He sat as still as he could. It broke Arthur's heart. If the boy wanted to bounce, let him bounce. What Arthur wouldn't give to be able to go back and see Alfred so young and energetic and happy. Hell, he would let him do anything he wanted to.
Alfred sat next to Arthur, leg bouncing almost obnoxiously. He was picking at his fingernails, a nervous habit he had picked up sometime shortly before the Revolution. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, but he did know that if they were going to be here for a while he may seriously be in trouble. Honestly, there was a good deal of culture shock that came with being an adult at this time when he had spent it as a child.
The rest of the time consisted of awkward small talk. As the night drew to a close, England stood up. He was holding America who had been so excited that he was now crashing hard from it. His eyelids were drooping but he was fighting so hard to stay awake.
"How about in the morning we begin to discuss how to get you home?" he asked. "As for tonight, I have had rooms prepared for both of you." Alfred was confused. As far as he could remember, this was a three-bedroom house. England turned to Arthur. "I've put you in the guest room." Then he turned to Alfred. "I hope you don't mind," he started and Alfred was scared for a moment that he expected him to share a room with Arthur. "But I've put you in Alfred's - well, I suppose your old room. I'll just keep Alfred with me."
"Oh," Alfred said, relieved but also a little uneasy. "That's… That's fine, thanks."
England gave him a small smile. "Well, I'm going to take him to bed. I'll see you both in the morning."
England bid them goodnight and walked up the stairs and out of sight, leaving Alfred and Arthur alone in the drawing-room.
If they thought the silence had been deafening before, nothing compared to this. Alfred was still picking at his fingernails. Arthur hated that, he knew he only did it when he was nervous. Although, according to Alfred he never got nervous. Arthur knew that wasn't true. Alfred's hero act may work on everyone else, but never on him. "Al-," Arthur started, but caught himself. They weren't close enough anymore for that, but it still caused the Americans head to snap up. "America," Arthur said, correcting himself. The last thing I want to do is upset the boy anymore.
"Yeah?" Alfred asked, voice a little rough. When Arthur didn't answer immediately, Alfred spoke again. "What do you fucking want, dude?"
How absolutely rude. Whatever Arthur had been planning to say went out the window. He wasn't going to be talked to this way. He stood up, straightened out his clothes slowly and turned towards the stairs. Without looking at Alfred he said, "Do make yourself useful for once in your life tomorrow and stay the hell out of my way."
Alfred stood up quickly. "Aw, fuck you, England."
Arthur turned, rapidly in Alfred's face. "Lower your voice. You don't want them to hear us, you fucking imbecile."
Alfred clenched his jaw. Arthur was right. He needed to take a moment to lower his voice before he said back "I hate you, you know that right?"
He watched Arthur tense up like ice water had been dumped on him. "Yes," Arthur replied. "You've made that quite clear." With that, Arthur turned, walked over to a cabinet and opened it, took a bottle of brandy, and walked up the stairs.
Well, now Alfred regretted saying it. "Where are you going?" he asked, confused. He had thought Arthur would fight with him. He had thought Arthur would tell him he hated him too, that they would yell back.
"Good night, America," Arthur said at the top of the stairs, throwing back the bottle. Alfred watched as Arthur disappeared into the guest room at the end of the hallway.
Alfred slumped back into the couch. He didn't really hate Arthur, of course. He wanted things to be normal with Arthur. He wanted things to be maybe better than normal? He wanted to be able to talk to Arthur. He wanted to be able to ask Arthur for her help. Whatever. He didn't need Arthur. He hadn't needed Arthur for almost 250 years. Whatever.
He sighed loudly and stood up, dragging his heels to the bedroom he used to stay in every night. He paused outside the door before opening it and disappearing inside. He was completely unaware of a little set of eyes that had watched the end of their exchange and heard every word.