Arthur stepped outside into the crisp, autumn morning. A dense wave of clouds moved like lumbering beasts in the sky. They promised hefty showers by afternoon. For now, nary a drop fell, and Arthur locked up his house with a pleased hum. He wouldn't have to worry about getting wet during his walk to the Tube.
He turned to see that his neighbor Berwald was bustling about as well, coming up the sidewalk to return to his home. Arthur would have liked to head on to work without a word, but he made the mistake of meeting that frigid gaze.
"Arthur," he rumbled lowly in greeting. The houses were situated so closely that Arthur had no trouble hearing the man. And he would have returned the greeting, if only to be polite (the memory of their last talk lingered uncomfortably in his mind), but there was something . . . curious.
"Good . . . morning," Arthur said carefully, eyeing the bright pink leash in Berwald's hand. The end of the leash attached to a tiny white cloud.
"Brff," the cloud barked at him.
It was a dog. Berwald, the neighborhood Viking who crafted glass figurines and enforced well-intentioned romantic interventions, had a small, fluffy dog.
Arthur considered it bad form to laugh, seeing as he himself had a fondness for stuffed animals and indulged in needlework.
It was just so . . . small compared to Berwald. The dog was smaller than Jasper even!
No Arthur, keep it together. Gentlemen do not snicker at their neighbors.
Berwald nodded towards the dog, which sat scratching at one folded ear. "My dog," he said needlessly. "Just adopted him recently."
"Oh?" That would explain why Arthur had seen no sign of the pup during his visit.
"Thought it might help," Berwald confided, looking terribly serious. It took Arthur a moment to understand.
Berwald had taken what Arthur said about his intimidating image so personally that he went out to find the most unthreatening pet to counteract it.
"His name's Hanatamago," Berwald added.
Arthur wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask questions. He wanted to walk away. In the end, he croaked something about that being a fine name and let the moment pass entirely. Berwald nodded with a distinct air of pride and disappeared into his home.
What a peculiar way to start the morning. He should go to work before anything else strange happened. But blast all, he probably should have asked Berwald if his new dog was friendly with other animals. It wouldn't do for Jasper to be chased around if Hanatommy-something ran off its leash. Then again, maybe he should be more worried for the dog, since Jasper tended to get riled up around other animals. He might have to warn Berwald later—
"Bonjour Arthur!"
Arthur took off in a mad dash that would make an Olympic racer proud. Too bad Francis knew him too well and quickly grabbed him by the back of his jacket.
"Let go of me, you arse!"
"No, I think not. Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me."
"As if I need a reason to avoid your ugly mug.
"Your words hurt me deep, like a paper cut."
"I will hurt you if you don't let go."
"So prone to violence. I could show you a way to vent that anger in a way that would be pleasurable for the both of us~"
"Shut up and—KEEP YOUR HANDS AWAY FROM MY TROUSERS!"
Fists really might have flown if the two of them hadn't felt an ominous aura assailing them. They froze where they stood grappling each other and, as one, they slowly looked towards Berwald's house, which they stood directly in front of. Icy blue eyes glared at them from between the cracked door.
A vivid memory of Arthur's visit to Berwald's home flashed in his mind. Arthur had cleared up the misunderstanding before, but damn it, Francis was going to make him think Arthur had been lying!
Arthur shoved Francis away (unfortunately, not resulting in him tripping over the curb and getting run over by a passing vehicle). He had to create distance and preserve his dignity!
"This isn't what you think, I assure you," Arthur called to Berwald, laughing nervously.
"Isn't that what unfaithful lovers say when they get caught cheating?"
"Belt up, Francis!"
"Good morning, Berwald!" Francis greeted. He smiled amicably and threw an arm over Arthur's shoulder like they were good friends. Arthur elbowed him in the side and felt a deep satisfaction at Francis's pained grunt. He continued with a strained grin, "What a wonderful surprise to see you here."
They could just make out Berwald's short reply of, "I live here."
"Yes, yes, of course!" Francis said, acting like he wasn't stupid, and Arthur wanted to hit him.
Berwald's glare turned wary before he slid the door shut.
Francis breathed out in relief. "How many bodies do you think are hidden under his floorboards?"
"Come off it, he's not . . . that . . . bad."
Both of Francis's brows shot up at Arthur defending Berwald. "I saw the devil in his eyes. Were you not looking at the same man I was?"
"He can't help the way he looks. I'm sure he's a decent bloke once you get to know him. Why last week he invited me over for coffee."
Francis could not have been more appalled. "And you went?"
"I did."
"And you lived?"
"No Francis, he bashed my head in right and good. Don't mind my seemingly corporeal self standing before you."
Something dawned on Francis, and by the way his expression lit up, Arthur knew he wouldn't like it one bit. "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have you been flirting with danger?"
"Good God, man, do you ever shut up?" Arthur groused. He pushed away from Francis and went to resume his daily route. Francis followed right beside him, undeterred as always.
"Arthur, my dear friend, tell me truly. Have I done something to offend you?"
"Your existence offends me."
Francis waved away the familiar insult. "Besides that. You haven't come by to eat dinner with me in over a week."
"Not unusual."
"Nor have you answered my texts or calls."
"Also not unusual."
"And when I came over the other day, you so rudely tossed me out."
"You broke into my house, you twat!"
"It is not breaking if the door was unlocked."
Arthur scoffed, "That'll hold up in court."
"Why is it that I get the feeling you're not telling me something?"
Arthur continued to look straight ahead and didn't dare look towards Francis. "Must be your imagination. Or maybe feeling a bit touched? If you're experiencing these grandiose delusions, I can direct you to some excellent doctors."
"Oh? The ones who treat you?"
Arthur would have responded by kicking the bastard's shin, but his phone chimed then. He whipped it out a bit too fast to check his newest message.
AlfredtheHero: "What side of a duck has feathers? . . . .the outside!"
The joke was incredibly lame which was what made Arthur chuckle and type in a response. He only realized that Francis was watching him suspiciously after he had finished replying.
"And just who was that you were messaging?"
Arthur cursed internally. "No one. My brother. Leave me alone."
"That wasn't your brother. You were smiling. You don't smile like that at your brothers."
"You don't know me."
"Oh, but I do! And more importantly, I know exactly what type of smile you were smiling."
"No you don't. Stop talking."
"So how did you meet them? How many dates have you went on?"
Why did it sound like Francis was channeling his mother?
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around asking me about my personal life?"
"At the moment, no. Consider yourself lucky that you are honored with my presence."
"I feel something but it's not honor."
"Don't be this way, Arthur. Tell me all about them. Is it a woman? A man? However did someone as brutish as you gain their favor? Or are you still trying? Oh, I can help you! I am a well of romance. Feel free to drink from me."
"I would rather die! And besides! . . ." Arthur stopped and stared down at the sidewalk. "It's . . . not like that."
Arthur thought everything would be said and done once their collaboration ended last week. They made the video, it had been posted, and what else was there to continue? Arthur reminded himself that it had been business, or friendly business, if he was feeling optimistic. Alfred and he had a good time. And judging by the comments on the video, many people enjoyed the outcome (there were plenty of . . . negative comments on Arthur's behalf, but that wouldn't sully the experience!). Arthur could be satisfied with that.
But then, Alfred messaged him. Just some friendly words to thank Arthur for collaborating and to talk about the viewers' reactions to them. Nothing to get that excited about.
Except, Alfred kept messaging . . .
And he hadn't stopped. From lame jokes to daily musings, it was almost like . . . Alfred wanted to be friends.
Arthur wanted to be skeptical, but Alfred kept making him smile and hope . . .
"I see," Francis said, sounding remarkably solemn. He placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder, beckoning him to look up into his light blue eyes. "Unrequited love can be a heavy burden to carry. I should know. I have broken many hearts."
Arthur gave him a withering glare. "And just when I thought you would say something useful."
Francis smirked, patted his shoulder twice, and stepped away. "If you do need someone to talk to, I am but a house away. Have a nice day, Arthur." He waved and began the trek back home.
"As if," Arthur huffed to himself. Francis was just being dramatic as usual. It's not as if Arthur was suffering from some devastating problem. There was a man he fancied, a man who might at least want to be friends with him. It was a good thing, a sign that things were looking up in his life.
"By the way, Arthur!" He looked back to see that Francis had stopped some meters away, before he got too far. "I wanted to ask you if you noticed anything strange about my house."
Oh no.
"Strange?" Arthur returned, the picture of oblivious.
"Yes. Sometime last week, I returned home to find a window open and a vase of mine broken on the floor. I was wondering if you had seen something about that?"
Arthur tried desperately to hide his expression as he answered back in a choked voice, "I don't know Francis. Maybe it was a . . . cat burglar."
"Ah, but nothing was stolen."
"I'm sorry, Francis. I don't know anything. I really must be going now. Goodbye!"
This time, Arthur escaped before Francis could stop him.
AlfredtheHero: "What side of a duck has feathers? . . . .the outside!"
Cat Owner: "A duck has no feathers if you're eating it."
AlfredtheHero: "Hey! No eating the animals in my jokes!"
Cat Owner: "Why not? I'm feeling a bit peckish."
AlfredtheHero: "Dude, was that a bird pun?"
Cat Owner: "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."
AlfredtheHero: "You totally did! Tell me another please!"
Cat Owner: "No, let's end this before things get hawkward."
AlfredtheHero: "Omg, I'm cackling, can't breathe."
Cat Owner: "Sorry, I didn't mean to be such a birden on you."
Alfred was overwhelmed.
On the kitchen tile he lay, holding himself as his body wracked with laughter. Here he thought he was the master of jokes. And here he had been outmatched by a true pun master.
"I can't. Just—ha!—give me a minute," he laughed at his phone as if Arthur could hear him. What would Arthur say if he could see him right now? What would his face look like? Alfred bet all of his video games that Arthur had a smirk on his face this very moment, so proud of his punny accomplishments. It made Alfred giggle more, and through his euphoria, he swore he was starting to hallucinate Matthew standing over him in flannel pajamas.
"Alfred," the very tired hallucination said. "It's one in the morning. What are you doing?"
"O-oh Matt! I—heh—I didn't mean to bother you this late. I guess you could—ha!—could say I'm a bit of a night owl! HAHAHAHA!"
The hallucination was not pleased. He didn't yell at Alfred, rather he stepped away to swipe up a couch pillow. He came back to gently press it over his brother's loud face-hole.
Funny, it was almost like Matthew was actually smothering him.
"Can't . . . breathe!" Alfred grunted. He pushed the villainous cushion away and took in a big gulp of sweet air. "Geez Mattie, if you didn't like my puns, all you had to do was say so."
"I have said so. Many times before. But you have selective hearing. I think you get it from Mom. Me and Dad can tell you both 'no' all we want, but all you guys hear is 'yes'. If you hear us at all, that is."
"Huh? What'd you say?" Alfred looked up from where he now sat cross-legged on the floor, gorging himself on a bag of donut holes. "I got them from that new shop down the street. Want some?"
Matthew sunk down to the floor in defeat. "I don't know why I bother."
"…donut?" Alfred asked, holding one of the tasty confections out to his twin. He pressed it against the corner of Matthew's mouth, tapping him over and over. "Donut? Donut?"
"Donut," Matthew sighed in agreement and opened his mouth to take the prize.
Don't believe Arthur. Him and Francis are better friends than he lets on. I also headcanon that Arthur loves lame jokes, especially puns. More so when he's the one telling them. Most of the time if you try to tell him one, he'll probably think it's funny but try not to laugh. It's also funny, Arthur and Alfred messaging each other, because I didn't realize I had written that first bird pun, where Arthur said he was feeling peckish. It wasn't on purpose, nor do I think Arthur meant for it to be, but we both ran with it. :)
I HAVE NEWS! An awesome reviewer, SomethingMoreQ, was inspired by last chapter's bonus scene so much that they drew fanart of goose Russia! Like, Ivan as an honest to god goose. It's beautiful. Please go check it out! Just google "JasperSompher deviantart" and you should find their deviantart profile.
Speaking of bonus scenes, I don't have one this time. I'm hella tried, ya feel? So I'm gonna pass this time around.
…ya know what? I'll do it. I will write it right now regardless of sleep deprivation. Just watch me.
Berwald had only intended to get a dog.
"W-what can I do for you today, sir?" an angel asked him.
He didn't mean to fall in love.
Berwald didn't know that angels of the lord worked in animal shelters, but here one was, large violet-like eyes peering up at him, a sweet smile blessing that round face, and body shaking in excitement at the chance to find a loving home for a pet.
Yes, that's why the angel shook.
Berwald momentarily forgot what he came there for.
The angel glanced away, probably just feeling shy, and brushed his blond bangs out of his eyes. Berwald knew that if he could watch this ethereal being until the end of his days, he would die a happy man.
Another worker entered the lobby from a glass door behind the front desk. This man was blond as well, though he wasn't nearly as beautiful. The angel sent him a look and his fellow employee hurried over beside him.
"Anything I can help you with?" the newcomer asked, putting on a practiced smile. He wore glasses and the same dark blue polo that the angel wore.
Disgruntled by the interruption, Berwald pointed at the angel, "He was helpin' me first."
Violet eyes widened. No doubt the angel was surprised and grateful at Berwald pointing out how this man had interrupted them.
"Y-yes," the angel stammered. "I asked what I could help you with?"
"A dog," Berwald answered straight to the point. It was better than blurting out a marriage proposal. "I need a dog."
"What kind of dog are you looking for?" his angel responded.
"Somethin' cute." Berwald had a weakness for small, cute things. Like the angel before him.
"Oh? Okay. That's good," the little blond said. "Um, if you'd like, Eduard can show you to the kennel so you can—"
"I'd like you to take me," Berwald said.
The angel let out a little squeak and Berwald's eyes narrowed slightly at the reaction. It occurred to him that this might not be his specific job. It made sense that the shelter would want an angel to man the counter with his wonderful customer-service skills. What if he got in trouble if he left his post?
"If ya can," Berwald amended, glancing down embarrassed. He didn't want to ask too much of one of God's holy servants. "Don't want to trouble you."
"Oh. Um . . ." the angel began. Berwald glanced back up hopefully. "Well then. I suppose . . . Eduard, I guess I can take him. Would you mind staying out here for me?"
"You sure, Tino?" this Eduard man had the nerve to question.
Oh, but Tino? His angel's name was Tino? Berwald wanted to say it. Many times. Maybe sigh it occasionally while staring up at the clouds and picking flowers. He should pick some flowers for Tino.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," Tino assured his coworker. He stepped around the counter and beckoned for Berwald to follow him through a different door. Berwald followed him unquestioningly.
"Sooo. What made you decide you wanted a dog?" Tino asked. Berwald must have looked at him a bit too sharply because Tino amended, "Not that you have to answer! Just making conversation! Don't mind me!"
He was so thoughtful, not wanting to be bothersome. Just what Berwald would expect from an angel. But Berwald wouldn't mind if Tino asked him any question. He would answer without hesitation.
"I thought it might help," Berwald answered honestly. At Tino's blinking stare, Berwald elaborated, "My neighbor told me that I can be . . . intimidating. I don't mean to be. So I thought a dog would help."
"So you . . . you wanted a cute . . ." Tino said to himself, as if understanding something. He stopped as they reached the end of the hallway they traveled. They stood outside the door leading to the kennel. Barking echoed from inside. Tino didn't make a move to open the door yet.
"Something wrong?" Berwald asked, worried he might have said something. He wasn't the best at social situations.
"Oh! Oh, no! Not at all!" Tino rushed to say. He seemed brighter than before now, the way he looked up at Berwald. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."
"S'okay," Berwald said, though he didn't know why the angel was apologizing.
"That's actually really sweet," Tino said, giggling softly as he somehow smiled with his eyes.
Berwald felt his heart literally crush in his chest with the urge to reach out and hug the smaller man. He needed to hold and protect something so precious.
"Alright, let's go get you a puppy," Tino said.
They walked down an aisle, pens running down the length on either side. Many of them were occupied with dogs, dog beds, toys, and food and water dishes. Another employee was busy going to each of them to feed them.
"If you're looking for something small, we have a couple of corgis. Or maybe a terrier? We've got mixed breeds of course, so some you can't really tell, but they're all still very cute."
Berwald let Tino take him around to different pens, giving him a chance to pet the dogs. Most were eager for attention, though some did shy away. Tino told him not to be discouraged because some of them were slow to warm up to people due to poor treatment from previous owners.
"It really breaks my heart, what some people could do to these sweet babies," Tino told him, looking through a cage door at a spaniel huddled in a corner. The white and brown dog had a cast on its front leg and watched them warily.
Berwald couldn't bear to see Tino looking so sad. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "They have you now. I bet they're happy."
Tino didn't look sad anymore. In fact he appeared taken aback, mouth slightly open.
Then he let out a little laugh. "Thank you, but I'm sure the free food and roof over their heads are what really matters."
"No. You care. That matters a lot."
Tino plucked at the front of his shirt, not looking at him. "W-well, how about we see a few more? Oh, I know! We got a new puppy the other day. Someone found the poor guy in the trash. But he's so friendly! Over here, see him? Isn't he adorable? I kinda named him already—temporarily of course—and I've been calling him Hanatamago because I think it fits him. But isn't he cute?"
Berwald could sit around and listen to Tino gush all day. But he remembered that he did indeed come here today to adopt a dog. So he wrote up the paperwork Tino gave him and listened to all of his caregiving instructions. By the time Berwald was finally able to bring Hanatamago home, he had decided something.
"I need to get another dog."
And so Berwald will return back to the shelter. After about twenty adoptions, Tino may start to realize that it's more than the dogs Berwald keeps coming back for.
I can't believe I just spent two extra hours writing SuFin. Those babies are worth it though.