Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
Comments and Suggestions go here
Don't forget to link your new fill at the fill index over here.
Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
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A couple of days passed in relative calm. Alfred hadn't forgotten to put the towels back in the bathroom, and Arthur had managed to put the events of that evening behind him...mostly.
The whole thing would have been so much easier if every move the boy made, if all the subtle changes in his posture (no longer curved the way it used to be), his voice (still very high, but now completely without the lisp of childhood), the way he carried himself (he seemed so sure of himself, so ready to take the world head-on) hadn't been so damned prominent.
They were on horseback now, riding through the exquisite countryside, gazing at the mountains in the distance and silently contemplating what lay beyond. Alfred caught sight of a hawk soaring into the distance, and he got his horse into a fast gallop following the bird.
"Hey!" Arthur was soon after him. "You're getting off the track! We'll get lost!"
"No we won't!" Alfred called back, the wind whipping through his amber-gold hair and making his eyes narrow into slits. "I know this place better than anything. I just want to see where it goes."
Arthur huffed, but continued onward.
The hawk led them to a rather high ledge, then continued onward. Alfred stopped his horse and watched it with an expression akin to longing. Arthur joined him soon after.
"I guess I can't go that far just yet." Alfred murmured.
"Yeah," Arthur watched the bird disappear from his line of vision. "I guess not."
A moment of silence, and then:
"I hope you know how to get back on the trail."
"Of course I do." Alfred led them back the way they came, and sure enough, they had soon made their way to the path they'd been taking beforehand.
"You know," Alfred said in a melancholy tone, "sometimes I really do know what I'm talking about."
~~~~~
They were curled up on the living room floor, sharing a blanket. The fire wasn't lit, but it was nice to relax in the center of the house, watching the stars through the window.
"Tell me another," Alfred said dreamily.
"I'm running out of stories," Arthur laughed. "Why don't you tell me a story."
"But I don't know any good stories yet," Alfred sighed. "I haven't seen everything you've seen. You have all the good stories, Arthur. Pirates and fairies and wars and all sorts of stuff. You're just...awesome."
He moved closer and rested his head on the older nation's chest.
"I love you, Arthur." It was barely more than a whisper, but Arthur heard it loud and clear.
"I know, my boy," Arthur ran a hand up and down his small back. "I love you, too."
"No," Arthur leaned back quickly and looked him straight in the eye, "I mean it. I love you. Not in the way you think I mean it. I want to live with you for the rest of my life, and I want to have you all to myself."
He leaned back against Arthur's chest again.
"But you don't think I mean it like that, do you?"
Arthur didn't reply. He just held the boy close and prayed to God they both forgot about this in the morning.
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What are you doing to me author!anon?
Your prose. I like it. Your pacing. I like it. Your characterizations. I like it.
I'm not sure how precocious Alfred is... so many questions still linger in my mind. You make me want to missfire so I can tell the rest of the kink meme how much ILU.
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Incidentally, in regards to Alfred's precociousness, author-anon also (as if she wasn't going to hell already) literally just finished the last day of working in a child care center before writing this. Kids perceive a lot more than she previously gave them credit for.
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You are setting this up to be the most delicious UK/Colonial US shota I have ever read.
Please, I beg of you, take as long as you need to fill it but PLEASE don't abandon this fill ;___;
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I PROMISE, THIS WILL BE FINISHED. (The plot won't leave me alone, anyway. XD)
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The next morning, Arthur awoke to find himself on the living room floor, alone. Alfred must have gone to bed after I fell asleep, he thought. Can't really blame him, either. My back is killing me.
From down the hall, he could hear someone doing laundry and seemingly trying to make as little noise as possible. Laundry wasn't supposed to be done until the end of the week. What on earth...
There was the sound of something dropping to the floor, followed by a soft curse. Why in God's name was Alfred doing laundry at daybreak?
He got up, cracked a few joints he hadn't known he possessed, and headed toward the laundry room thinking they really needed to pull in one of the mattresses if they were going to do that again.
"Alfred, what on earth are you doing up so earl--"
"Oh!" Alfred nearly jumped out of his skin. "Hello, Arthur! I was just washing my bedclothes. It was time to wash them, anyway. I mean, you're always getting on me about leaving things until they're unusable before I clean them. So, what were we going to do today?"
Alfred's face was reaching the color of a poinsettia, very quickly, and he put a little more soap than was necessary into the water so Arthur couldn't even see if there was anything in the wash, let alone what it was. Besides, didn't he have people who did this? Arthur could have sworn he did...whatever. He wasn't awake enough to care. Alfred had done some oddball things before; it wasn't like this was really all that surprising.
"Alright," he yawned, trying to stretch out his violently protesting legs as he shuffled to the kitchen, "I'll make us some breakfast."
By the time they'd finished breakfast, Alfred's little jaunt with the laundry had completely left Arthur's mind. He was far more concerned with their trip to the seaside that afternoon.
~~~~~
"Arthur! I found a jellyfish! Come look!"
Arthur was really tired of walking through sand, but nevertheless he followed his colony to a glimmering spot on the shore, where the poor creature had washed in with the tide. This particular beach wasn't really visited by people very often, so as usual, they were alone. Arthur suspected it had something to do with the near-impossible route you had to take to get there, but the emptiness was most of the reason why they had always come to that beach. It was their own place, a place where they could just flout all the regulations and appearances they were required to uphold and just live.
"Don't touch it," he warned, "it's gone through enough already, being out of the water."
"You don't think it'll die, do you?"
"Alfred, you already know the answer to that question."
"..."
"I'm sorry, my boy, but some things just can't be helped."
"No."
And with that, Alfred took the small pail they had brought that had previously contained their lunch, removed the cloth that lined the inside, ran out into the water, and held out the pail as the tide came in as though he were trying to catch the power of the ocean itself.
He came back, pail full of water, and gently, oh so gently, scooped up the ill-fated thing, sand and all. Quick as lightning, he ran back out to the water and released it, hopping up onto a rock so he could see what happened without the risk of being stung by the frightened animal. Arthur watched with him as the sand washed away, and the fish swam quickly back into deeper waters. It was a damned lucky fish, to have Alfred get there in time Just a few more minutes and it would have been long gone. It would probably never realize just how lucky it really was.
"Don't call me that."
"Hm?" Arthur was still watching the jellyfish as it disappeared.
"Don't call me your boy. I'm older than that, now."
Arthur froze, mind snapping back to the previous night. Quickly, silently, a small part of his heart broke.
"Alright, Alfred. I won't."
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I love this fic so far, I hope you continue it soon!
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Also, I do, in fact, know where this story is going. It's just taking a little longer to get there than I thought.
And I swear to GOD I hadn't meant for it to have this much angst. It'll get resolved, but I mean, where's the fun in release without a little tension beforehand?
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I can't wait to read the next part!
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The next part is in progress!
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~~~~~
"Why are you doing this, again?"
"Because your hands are filthy."
"I'm not a girl, you know."
"That doesn't matter. You should still have presentable hands. Otherwise you appear uncivilized and unprofessional."
"Fine. But do you really have to use the stone?"
"They're uneven. It looks unkempt."
"You are the only person I know who would use the word 'unkempt' seriously."
Alfred was in the bath again, and Arthur was sitting beside the bathtub, attacking his hands with a pencil-shaped piece of pumice stone. Arthur could tell the boy actually enjoyed the feel of it, and that he would sooner throw himself under a horse than admit to it. And for what it was worth, Arthur enjoyed it, too. It was a calming exercise.
Unfortunately, it brought to light a rather unsettling notion. Arthur was sitting parallel with the colony, so he couldn't see anything but bubbles and Alfred's head and arm, but...every time he moved, it was a reminder of the first night he'd spent here, of the stunning structure that was hidden from view by nothing but a thin layer of bubbles.
And, once the layer of dirt and callouses was removed, he had lovely hands. The palms were curved just so, and the fingers were long and flexible. His fingernails, even with the efforts of Arthur's stone, were remarkably long. It felt comforting in ways he didn't fully understand, to hold Alfred's hand in his own and smooth away the imperfections.
He didn't trim his nails, though. Just considering their length for too long made Arthur's mind go places they should never, ever go, and besides, to shorten them would do those hands a disservice. They suited him.
He finished with the first hand, and walked around to the other side of the tub and sat down once more. Alfred withdrew his other hand from the water to meet him.
Arthur took a small towel to remove the bubbles from Alfred's hand before using the stone to even out the callouses on Alfred's softened palm. Alfred let out a small giggle.
"What?" Arthur gave a small grin.
"Tickles." Alfred murmured. Arthur turned to see that Alfred had drifted off, and was resting his head on the rim of the tub. It took Arthur a moment to realize that Alfred's forehead touched the side of his own, and that his eyes had slipped shut, a content smile gracing his lips. He looked so content, so happy. Arthur hadn't seen him this genuinely relaxed all week.
Arthur wasn't relaxed at all. In fact, his face was heating up at an alarming speed. He didn't realize he'd completely frozen in place until Alfred's brow furrowed and he opened his eyes.
"Why'd you st...stop?" He asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he realized how close their faces had become.
They stayed like that for a minute, neither of them moving, neither of them speaking, and if one was relying on sound alone, neither of them breathing.
Time stood still.
And then it seemed to move more slowly than ever.
Alfred raised his other hand from where it rested on the other rim of the tub. Gently, oh so gently, he ghosted his fingertips over Arthur's forehead, spread them out and ran them through his hair, brought that soft, exquisite hand to stroke his cheek, those long fingernails giving the caress a tingling friction at the end, and this wasn't ever supposed to happen, and my god Arthur he's only a boy, and it was wrong and completely inappropriate and--
--Alfred's lips were on his own, pressing gently, his other hand coming to frame the other side of Arthur's face--
perfect...
Before Arthur even realized what had happened, his lips were pressing back, his hands were making his way to the boy's shoulders--
Such small shoulders--
Arthur broke apart with a gasp, face vermillion, pulse in his ears, pumice stone long forgotten on the floor.
"I'm sorry." he said quickly, darting out of the bathroom and straight to the liquor cabinet, searching for something that would put him to sleep, and fast.
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*nosebleeds*
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It's gonna get better. Just...not tonight. I find I write better when I'm not sleep-deprived.
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