(no subject)
Title: Second Childhood.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Drama.
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur.
Rating/Warnings: No warnings, just cute fluff here.
Summary: A belated kink meme fill. The OP asked "hope this not a strange request.....Anyway I would like to see England magic backfire on him, turning him a into child but with his memories intact, and America takes care of him. Bonus if this happen while their relationship is a little strained and after they become closer"
For once the world summit meeting was quiet. Well, that was a complete and utter lie, as France was busy trying to molest Austria, who was trying to maintain his dignity while Hungary was trying to castrate France with her frying pan. Spain and Veneziano were busily conversing about a particular pasta dish with a delicious tomato sauce they'd tried at a nearby restaurant. Turkey and Greece had somehow ended up sat next to each other with predictable results and Prussia was loudly telling Finland exactly why he was so much awesomer than Finland, much to poor Tino's bemusement.
Ludwig rubbed at his temples wearily, wondering why a benevolent universe would keep putting him in these situations. Still, he looked over at America and felt relieved that at least one nation seemed to be behaving himself, although that was probably because his usual arguement-partner was absent. The thought drew a frown-line between Germany's eyebrows. England was not in the habit of simply missing the world summits, even when hung-over and in such a foul mood that everyone wished he hadn't turned up.
Ludwig watched as Alfred practically bolted out of the venue as soon as he'd brought the rambling meeting to a close and shook his head. They weren't fooling anyone, those two.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. The man in the seat next to Alfred was on the verge of throttling America, a fact that Alfred remained unaware of as he fretfully tapped his fingers on the fold-out tray. Anxiety thrummed along string-tight nerves as he wondered what had happened to Arthur. The scene changed as the 'plane landed with Alfred barely paying attention. The cabbie was yammering something about those bloody foreigners coming over here and something or another, but all Alfred could think about was his destination and Arthur.
The door slammed shut behind him and Alfred ran through the house, going from room to room looking for Arthur. He opened a rarely opened door in despairing hope that Arthur would be there and was turning to close it again when a movement caught his eye. He turned slowly and made eye-contact with a knee-high little urchin. Had Arthur been having more kids again? The lad had big green eyes and enormous eyebrows set under messy blond hair.
The gigantic eyebrows drew together and the little wretch jerked his chin up in an arrogant gesture that was pure Arthur before unleashing a stream of gibberish at the American.
'Hang on, is that, like, Welsh or Irish or something?' Alfred asked in utter bemusement. The boy rolled his eyes and padded forward on bare feet, reaching up to take Alfred's hand. He guided the man down to Arthur's study with a familiarity that weirded Alfred out. He scrambled up onto Arthur's desk chair and grabbed a framed photo, turning it so Alfred could see that it was a candid picture of him and Arthur apparently snapped mid-argument. He pointed to picture-Alfred, then to Alfred himself, with a nod. Then he pointed to Arthur and then himself, sprouting another load of gibberish. 'You're Arthur?'
Alfred's disbelief was so obvious the little boy got even more frustrated, berating him in a tirade of that weird language again that Alfred was sure contained some words that boys that young shouldn't be using. He rummaged in the drawer of Arthur's desk, yanking out a battered address book and flipped through it until he stabbed at an entry with one chubby little finger. He pointed at the entry and then at the telephone. 'You want me to call this Rho...Rhodry guy?' Alfred considered it and then shrugged, why not?
The 'phone rang for a while before someone picked up, sprouting off some weird language that sounded a bit like what the apparent Arthur-child was gibbering in.
(Or bore dda, as a Welsh speaker would have heard.) 'Uh, what?'
'Ah, right. Hello again, Rhodry Ap Morgan speaking, can I help you?'
'Oh hi, I'm Alfred Jones and... things got a bit weird here, can I put someone on the line to talk?'
Rhodry's voice was bemused, but he agreed and Alfred handed the receiver over to the boy who prattled away in some of his weird language. An animated conversation then took place before the boy handed the 'phone back and Alfred raised it to his ear. 'Hello?'
'Right boyo, you're at Arthur's house in London, right? I'll be there in about two or three hours depending on flights and traffic. We'll get things sorted when I get there, but at the moment all you need to know is that yes, that boy is my brother Arthur and I've no idea what the mad little bastard's got himself into this time.'
Alfred replaced the 'phone and could only think of one thing to say. 'Well shit.' Arthur's expression echoed him exactly.
By the time Rhodry arrived Alfred had been forcefed tea by the little savage, who had negotiated the kitchen surprisingly well. Alfred took the time to examine Arthur, recognising the robe that the boy was wearing as adult Arthur's favourite t-shirt. It had been cut down and re-hemmed, the strips of left-over cloth having been plaited into a crude belt from which hung an elderly dagger Alfred recognised from Arthur's collection of old weapons he'd picked up over the centuries. He tried taking the sharp object away from the small child, but it didn't gone well. So instead he went and found the bandaids.
Arthur jumped to his feet as soon as the doorbell rang and ran to the front door, waiting impatiently for Alfred to answer it for him. Alfred was expecting an enthusiastic welcome or something, but instead there was another wave of the angry weird language and he tried to kick the older country in the shins. Wales sighed.
'Hello, you'll be America then, boyo?' The brythonically handsome fellow guessed. He spoke a few words to Arthur who quieted, but kept his hand close to the dagger. 'Oh dear, I don't think I can stay long, things are busy back home in Caerdydd. Bychan brawd is also clearly not quite himself.' Alfred had to concentrate hard to understand Rhodry's words, due to his sing-song delivery and broad Welsh accent.
Arthur and Rhodry conversed at some length and Alfred began to get the rhythm of their speech, enough to realise that they weren't actually speaking the same language, or at least not quite. Arthur hadn't relaxed an iota in the time Rhodry had been there and Alfred just felt hopelessly out of his depth. He followed the other two as they headed to the room where Arthur got his magic freak on and Arthur gestured to Rhodry, pointing at the chalk circle on the floor, gesturing to a bowl with some liquid in it and the bunch of dead herbs spilt on the floor, jabbering away.
Arthur left them, wandering off into the garden as Rhodry made them both coffee. 'It looks like you're stuck with him. I need to do some research, but the long and short of it seems to be that a spell went wrong, he doesn't know how long it'll take to wear off and that yes, he does remember pretty much everything up to the present day, even if he's stuck with the body and language he had about two and a half thousand years ago.' Rhodry paused and grinned. 'As you might have been able to tell though, the little body is affecting more than his vocabulary - he's pretty much regressed on an emotional, primal level too. That's why I've got to leave. As far as bychan brawd is concerned I'm just here to make another raid on his people and cattle. Even in the present day our relationship can be difficult, but it was much worse back then. You were sensible not to call Padraig or Hamish, they've always been more hostile to him, riled him up more and haven't made the same efforts with him in recent decades that I have. At least Artie and I can stand to spend a wet weekend together without attempted murder. Mostly.'
He shook himself back into the present. 'There's not a lot that you can do, other than keep the little barbarian from getting into trouble. He likes you, even when he's as odd in the head as he is now, I don't think he'll ever stop caring for you.' The Welshman's eyes misted with fond recollection, 'He always used to write me letters about you whenever he could spend time with you when you were a little colony, then after you gained your independance he'd write all these angry letters that made it obvious he was reading every scrap of information he could find about you, pointing out all your mistakes. You should have seen his face in world war two when we finally heard you'd decided to join us in the fight... he was so proud and glad and scared for you all at the same time, even though he was practically falling to bits under the strain of the bombings and fighting on all those different fronts.'
He smiled. 'Well, I think I ought to be going back home. You've got my number if you need help or translation, but he understands you, so you should be able to make yourself understood. Give Arthur my love!'
'Hey Arthur, let's watch a movie!' Alfred cheerfully suggested when little Arthur returned. 'Lessee, what've you got? Aww sweet! Vampire movie!' He'd found Arthur's collection of Hammer Horror dvds, specifically the ones with Christopher Lee being an excellent actor and plenty of randomly lesbian female vampires being mildly homoerotic.
Arthur was pretty much drowsing as the end credits ran, curled up beside Alfred, who was hiding behind a cushion and jumping at shadows. 'Wow, that was pretty scary. I think I should sleep in your bed tonight to make sure you're okay after that.' Alfred decided, as obviously he would have to take good care of Arthur and heroes didn't neglect their loved ones.
Arthur had drunk a cup of milk surprisingly obediently before going up to bed and he scrambled up onto adult Arthur's wide double bed, defiantly planting himself smack bang in the middle of it. He gave Alfred a defiant glare as if to stake his terretorial claim. 'But what if you get scared? What if ghosts or vampires come?' Alfred asked, quite sensibly. Arthur just continued to glare at him. Alfred wilted, lower lip sticking out. 'Fine!' He slunk off in the direction of the spare bedroom. Let the wilfull little brat have nightmares then!
Arthur had been sleeping peacefully when a noise woke him. He tensed, ready to fight back before he recognised the sound from when Alfred had been a little colony. The temporarily diminished in size England dropped from the bed and wandered through to the spare room, where Alfred was hiding under the duvet. Arthur grabbed the edge hanging over the side of the bed and yanked it out of the way so he could clamber up next to Alfred. The boy was such an idiot, really! The boy didn't even stir, turning into Arthur's warm body and hugging him like a teddy-bear. Gradually Alfred stopped snivelling and quaking and Arthur managed to drift off back to sleep again.
Alfred shifted and frowned, he was far too hot and kicked off his covers to find little Arthur nestled against his side. He grinned at that, he just knew Arthur was going to get scared in the night and need his company to scare away the nightmares! He decided that Arthur would need a good breakfast to get over the scary dreams and headed down to the kitchen to make some pancakes.
Arthur was kinda cute like this, Al had to admit. Watching the de-aged nation enthusiastically scoffing bacon and eggs very messily with his hands Alfred felt something warm in his chest and a gentle smile crept across his face. He wondered if that was how Iggy had felt when he'd been caring for Al when he was younger.
Arthur blinked at America's soppy expression and promptly had his messy face covered with a damp flannel that muffled his loud complaints. So this was how Alfred had felt when Arthur had wiped the muck of his face! Pouting in annoyance he submitted and held his hands out for Alfred to wash. Then as soon as the undignified task was done with Arthur slid down from the kitchen chair and headed out to his back garden. The roses needed pruning back and seeing as Arthur could hardly go to any meetings in his current condition there was no time like the present. Well, maybe the pruning could wait until after he'd played in that big pile of leaves!
Alfred nearly dropped the stack of crockery he was grudgingly tidying up. Artie really was way too short to do the chores and Al knew that he'd bitch if the place was messy when he grew back up. He dashed outside to see why Artie had shrieked like that, only to slump in relief when Arthur burst out of a big pile of gold and red leaves yelling something happily. Evidently those child-emotions Wales had mentioned were in charge at the moment. Al grinned and charged in, scooping up an armful of the leaves and chucking them up into the air. Arthur yelled back, an answering grin lighting up his face and threw himself into Al's belly as if trying to wrestle him to the ground.
It was the reddy changing colour of the sunbeams streaking across the garden that finally reminded them of the passing of time. Arthur's stomach rumbled at that moment making Al laugh. 'Yeah, it's getting late I guess. What do ya say to hamburgers fer dinner?'
Arthur nodded enthusiastically, jabbering some sort of agreement in his weird language. He scratched his cheek absently, leaving yet another smear of mud there from the mud pies they'd been making with the garden tap and some mud borrowed from the herbacious borders. Artie'd hardly notice the difference when he got big again, Alfred was sure.
After dinner and a bath that Arthur hardly fought at all (the sticking plasters remained in their box in the medicine cabinet this time) the pair of them settled to drowse on the sofa with a cheesy comedy movie playing more as background noise than as an entertainment. Alfred stayed very still, inwardly squeeing as Arthur's breathing slowed and the warm little body grew heavy and lax in sleep. He just wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. Gradually his eyelids got heavier and heavier until two blonds snored contentedly on the sofa instead of one.
Arthur frowned and shifted. His bed had pointy bits that were digging into his ribs, a feature he didn't remember it having. The bed was also snoring. Slowly more brain functions came on line and Arthur realised that he probably wasn't in bed. He chanced cracking an eye open and having a little look around. He was in his sitting room. Channel 4 was showing some strange early-morning educational programme and his sofa was uncomfortable under him because America was occupying it.
Oh.
Slowly, carefully Arthur eased himself up, stopping breathing for a moment as Alfred grumbled like he had when he'd been a bairn and Arthur had tried to tuck his blanket back over him. Fortunately Alfred just shifted to rest on his side and Arthur semi-gracefully swung his leg over Alfred to stand up. Seeking out a blanket Arthur covered his little brother and padded off to his own room. His old bones couldn't tolerate the sort of sleeping habits Alfred had.
Alfred yawned and stretched contentedly, he was warm and chilled out and feeling real happy. He reached to give Artie a contented hug and froze. Shit!
'Artie! Where are you?' Al was up and running in the blink of an eye, Artie's disappearance acting like a gallon of coffee on Alfred.
'I'm here you pillock! What bloody time do you think it is? Go back to sleep!' Arthur bellowed from his room. Al charged upstairs and stopped in the doorway of Arthur's room, chest heaving with the sprint and the sudden surge of fear. Arthur was propped up on one elbow in his bed, squinting irritably.
'Arthur. You're... you're big again.' Alfred couldn't censor the desolate note in his voice and Arthur's head jerked up.
Arthur lifted his duvet. 'I'm big again and you were very... kind to me when I was small. So are you coming back to sleep or are you going to bugger off?'
Al grinned. 'Sure, I just knew you couldn't resist my awesome after I beat ya in that game of tag yesterday.'
Arthur rested his head on Al's shoulder and hugged Alfred like a giant teddybear. 'Won, my arse. I clearly beat you and any claim you have otherwise is the ramblings of a confused mind. Now shut up and let me sleep.'
'Keep telling yourself that, bro.' Al muttered half under his breath as he shut his eyes. Oh Arthur'd prolly kick his ass later when he remembered more of his time as a kid, but it'd work out fine.
Fandom: Hetalia.
Genre: Drama.
Pairing(s): Alfred/Arthur.
Rating/Warnings: No warnings, just cute fluff here.
Summary: A belated kink meme fill. The OP asked "hope this not a strange request.....Anyway I would like to see England magic backfire on him, turning him a into child but with his memories intact, and America takes care of him. Bonus if this happen while their relationship is a little strained and after they become closer"
For once the world summit meeting was quiet. Well, that was a complete and utter lie, as France was busy trying to molest Austria, who was trying to maintain his dignity while Hungary was trying to castrate France with her frying pan. Spain and Veneziano were busily conversing about a particular pasta dish with a delicious tomato sauce they'd tried at a nearby restaurant. Turkey and Greece had somehow ended up sat next to each other with predictable results and Prussia was loudly telling Finland exactly why he was so much awesomer than Finland, much to poor Tino's bemusement.
Ludwig rubbed at his temples wearily, wondering why a benevolent universe would keep putting him in these situations. Still, he looked over at America and felt relieved that at least one nation seemed to be behaving himself, although that was probably because his usual arguement-partner was absent. The thought drew a frown-line between Germany's eyebrows. England was not in the habit of simply missing the world summits, even when hung-over and in such a foul mood that everyone wished he hadn't turned up.
Ludwig watched as Alfred practically bolted out of the venue as soon as he'd brought the rambling meeting to a close and shook his head. They weren't fooling anyone, those two.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. The man in the seat next to Alfred was on the verge of throttling America, a fact that Alfred remained unaware of as he fretfully tapped his fingers on the fold-out tray. Anxiety thrummed along string-tight nerves as he wondered what had happened to Arthur. The scene changed as the 'plane landed with Alfred barely paying attention. The cabbie was yammering something about those bloody foreigners coming over here and something or another, but all Alfred could think about was his destination and Arthur.
The door slammed shut behind him and Alfred ran through the house, going from room to room looking for Arthur. He opened a rarely opened door in despairing hope that Arthur would be there and was turning to close it again when a movement caught his eye. He turned slowly and made eye-contact with a knee-high little urchin. Had Arthur been having more kids again? The lad had big green eyes and enormous eyebrows set under messy blond hair.
The gigantic eyebrows drew together and the little wretch jerked his chin up in an arrogant gesture that was pure Arthur before unleashing a stream of gibberish at the American.
'Hang on, is that, like, Welsh or Irish or something?' Alfred asked in utter bemusement. The boy rolled his eyes and padded forward on bare feet, reaching up to take Alfred's hand. He guided the man down to Arthur's study with a familiarity that weirded Alfred out. He scrambled up onto Arthur's desk chair and grabbed a framed photo, turning it so Alfred could see that it was a candid picture of him and Arthur apparently snapped mid-argument. He pointed to picture-Alfred, then to Alfred himself, with a nod. Then he pointed to Arthur and then himself, sprouting another load of gibberish. 'You're Arthur?'
Alfred's disbelief was so obvious the little boy got even more frustrated, berating him in a tirade of that weird language again that Alfred was sure contained some words that boys that young shouldn't be using. He rummaged in the drawer of Arthur's desk, yanking out a battered address book and flipped through it until he stabbed at an entry with one chubby little finger. He pointed at the entry and then at the telephone. 'You want me to call this Rho...Rhodry guy?' Alfred considered it and then shrugged, why not?
The 'phone rang for a while before someone picked up, sprouting off some weird language that sounded a bit like what the apparent Arthur-child was gibbering in.
(Or bore dda, as a Welsh speaker would have heard.) 'Uh, what?'
'Ah, right. Hello again, Rhodry Ap Morgan speaking, can I help you?'
'Oh hi, I'm Alfred Jones and... things got a bit weird here, can I put someone on the line to talk?'
Rhodry's voice was bemused, but he agreed and Alfred handed the receiver over to the boy who prattled away in some of his weird language. An animated conversation then took place before the boy handed the 'phone back and Alfred raised it to his ear. 'Hello?'
'Right boyo, you're at Arthur's house in London, right? I'll be there in about two or three hours depending on flights and traffic. We'll get things sorted when I get there, but at the moment all you need to know is that yes, that boy is my brother Arthur and I've no idea what the mad little bastard's got himself into this time.'
Alfred replaced the 'phone and could only think of one thing to say. 'Well shit.' Arthur's expression echoed him exactly.
By the time Rhodry arrived Alfred had been forcefed tea by the little savage, who had negotiated the kitchen surprisingly well. Alfred took the time to examine Arthur, recognising the robe that the boy was wearing as adult Arthur's favourite t-shirt. It had been cut down and re-hemmed, the strips of left-over cloth having been plaited into a crude belt from which hung an elderly dagger Alfred recognised from Arthur's collection of old weapons he'd picked up over the centuries. He tried taking the sharp object away from the small child, but it didn't gone well. So instead he went and found the bandaids.
Arthur jumped to his feet as soon as the doorbell rang and ran to the front door, waiting impatiently for Alfred to answer it for him. Alfred was expecting an enthusiastic welcome or something, but instead there was another wave of the angry weird language and he tried to kick the older country in the shins. Wales sighed.
'Hello, you'll be America then, boyo?' The brythonically handsome fellow guessed. He spoke a few words to Arthur who quieted, but kept his hand close to the dagger. 'Oh dear, I don't think I can stay long, things are busy back home in Caerdydd. Bychan brawd is also clearly not quite himself.' Alfred had to concentrate hard to understand Rhodry's words, due to his sing-song delivery and broad Welsh accent.
Arthur and Rhodry conversed at some length and Alfred began to get the rhythm of their speech, enough to realise that they weren't actually speaking the same language, or at least not quite. Arthur hadn't relaxed an iota in the time Rhodry had been there and Alfred just felt hopelessly out of his depth. He followed the other two as they headed to the room where Arthur got his magic freak on and Arthur gestured to Rhodry, pointing at the chalk circle on the floor, gesturing to a bowl with some liquid in it and the bunch of dead herbs spilt on the floor, jabbering away.
Arthur left them, wandering off into the garden as Rhodry made them both coffee. 'It looks like you're stuck with him. I need to do some research, but the long and short of it seems to be that a spell went wrong, he doesn't know how long it'll take to wear off and that yes, he does remember pretty much everything up to the present day, even if he's stuck with the body and language he had about two and a half thousand years ago.' Rhodry paused and grinned. 'As you might have been able to tell though, the little body is affecting more than his vocabulary - he's pretty much regressed on an emotional, primal level too. That's why I've got to leave. As far as bychan brawd is concerned I'm just here to make another raid on his people and cattle. Even in the present day our relationship can be difficult, but it was much worse back then. You were sensible not to call Padraig or Hamish, they've always been more hostile to him, riled him up more and haven't made the same efforts with him in recent decades that I have. At least Artie and I can stand to spend a wet weekend together without attempted murder. Mostly.'
He shook himself back into the present. 'There's not a lot that you can do, other than keep the little barbarian from getting into trouble. He likes you, even when he's as odd in the head as he is now, I don't think he'll ever stop caring for you.' The Welshman's eyes misted with fond recollection, 'He always used to write me letters about you whenever he could spend time with you when you were a little colony, then after you gained your independance he'd write all these angry letters that made it obvious he was reading every scrap of information he could find about you, pointing out all your mistakes. You should have seen his face in world war two when we finally heard you'd decided to join us in the fight... he was so proud and glad and scared for you all at the same time, even though he was practically falling to bits under the strain of the bombings and fighting on all those different fronts.'
He smiled. 'Well, I think I ought to be going back home. You've got my number if you need help or translation, but he understands you, so you should be able to make yourself understood. Give Arthur my love!'
'Hey Arthur, let's watch a movie!' Alfred cheerfully suggested when little Arthur returned. 'Lessee, what've you got? Aww sweet! Vampire movie!' He'd found Arthur's collection of Hammer Horror dvds, specifically the ones with Christopher Lee being an excellent actor and plenty of randomly lesbian female vampires being mildly homoerotic.
Arthur was pretty much drowsing as the end credits ran, curled up beside Alfred, who was hiding behind a cushion and jumping at shadows. 'Wow, that was pretty scary. I think I should sleep in your bed tonight to make sure you're okay after that.' Alfred decided, as obviously he would have to take good care of Arthur and heroes didn't neglect their loved ones.
Arthur had drunk a cup of milk surprisingly obediently before going up to bed and he scrambled up onto adult Arthur's wide double bed, defiantly planting himself smack bang in the middle of it. He gave Alfred a defiant glare as if to stake his terretorial claim. 'But what if you get scared? What if ghosts or vampires come?' Alfred asked, quite sensibly. Arthur just continued to glare at him. Alfred wilted, lower lip sticking out. 'Fine!' He slunk off in the direction of the spare bedroom. Let the wilfull little brat have nightmares then!
Arthur had been sleeping peacefully when a noise woke him. He tensed, ready to fight back before he recognised the sound from when Alfred had been a little colony. The temporarily diminished in size England dropped from the bed and wandered through to the spare room, where Alfred was hiding under the duvet. Arthur grabbed the edge hanging over the side of the bed and yanked it out of the way so he could clamber up next to Alfred. The boy was such an idiot, really! The boy didn't even stir, turning into Arthur's warm body and hugging him like a teddy-bear. Gradually Alfred stopped snivelling and quaking and Arthur managed to drift off back to sleep again.
Alfred shifted and frowned, he was far too hot and kicked off his covers to find little Arthur nestled against his side. He grinned at that, he just knew Arthur was going to get scared in the night and need his company to scare away the nightmares! He decided that Arthur would need a good breakfast to get over the scary dreams and headed down to the kitchen to make some pancakes.
Arthur was kinda cute like this, Al had to admit. Watching the de-aged nation enthusiastically scoffing bacon and eggs very messily with his hands Alfred felt something warm in his chest and a gentle smile crept across his face. He wondered if that was how Iggy had felt when he'd been caring for Al when he was younger.
Arthur blinked at America's soppy expression and promptly had his messy face covered with a damp flannel that muffled his loud complaints. So this was how Alfred had felt when Arthur had wiped the muck of his face! Pouting in annoyance he submitted and held his hands out for Alfred to wash. Then as soon as the undignified task was done with Arthur slid down from the kitchen chair and headed out to his back garden. The roses needed pruning back and seeing as Arthur could hardly go to any meetings in his current condition there was no time like the present. Well, maybe the pruning could wait until after he'd played in that big pile of leaves!
Alfred nearly dropped the stack of crockery he was grudgingly tidying up. Artie really was way too short to do the chores and Al knew that he'd bitch if the place was messy when he grew back up. He dashed outside to see why Artie had shrieked like that, only to slump in relief when Arthur burst out of a big pile of gold and red leaves yelling something happily. Evidently those child-emotions Wales had mentioned were in charge at the moment. Al grinned and charged in, scooping up an armful of the leaves and chucking them up into the air. Arthur yelled back, an answering grin lighting up his face and threw himself into Al's belly as if trying to wrestle him to the ground.
It was the reddy changing colour of the sunbeams streaking across the garden that finally reminded them of the passing of time. Arthur's stomach rumbled at that moment making Al laugh. 'Yeah, it's getting late I guess. What do ya say to hamburgers fer dinner?'
Arthur nodded enthusiastically, jabbering some sort of agreement in his weird language. He scratched his cheek absently, leaving yet another smear of mud there from the mud pies they'd been making with the garden tap and some mud borrowed from the herbacious borders. Artie'd hardly notice the difference when he got big again, Alfred was sure.
After dinner and a bath that Arthur hardly fought at all (the sticking plasters remained in their box in the medicine cabinet this time) the pair of them settled to drowse on the sofa with a cheesy comedy movie playing more as background noise than as an entertainment. Alfred stayed very still, inwardly squeeing as Arthur's breathing slowed and the warm little body grew heavy and lax in sleep. He just wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. Gradually his eyelids got heavier and heavier until two blonds snored contentedly on the sofa instead of one.
Arthur frowned and shifted. His bed had pointy bits that were digging into his ribs, a feature he didn't remember it having. The bed was also snoring. Slowly more brain functions came on line and Arthur realised that he probably wasn't in bed. He chanced cracking an eye open and having a little look around. He was in his sitting room. Channel 4 was showing some strange early-morning educational programme and his sofa was uncomfortable under him because America was occupying it.
Oh.
Slowly, carefully Arthur eased himself up, stopping breathing for a moment as Alfred grumbled like he had when he'd been a bairn and Arthur had tried to tuck his blanket back over him. Fortunately Alfred just shifted to rest on his side and Arthur semi-gracefully swung his leg over Alfred to stand up. Seeking out a blanket Arthur covered his little brother and padded off to his own room. His old bones couldn't tolerate the sort of sleeping habits Alfred had.
Alfred yawned and stretched contentedly, he was warm and chilled out and feeling real happy. He reached to give Artie a contented hug and froze. Shit!
'Artie! Where are you?' Al was up and running in the blink of an eye, Artie's disappearance acting like a gallon of coffee on Alfred.
'I'm here you pillock! What bloody time do you think it is? Go back to sleep!' Arthur bellowed from his room. Al charged upstairs and stopped in the doorway of Arthur's room, chest heaving with the sprint and the sudden surge of fear. Arthur was propped up on one elbow in his bed, squinting irritably.
'Arthur. You're... you're big again.' Alfred couldn't censor the desolate note in his voice and Arthur's head jerked up.
Arthur lifted his duvet. 'I'm big again and you were very... kind to me when I was small. So are you coming back to sleep or are you going to bugger off?'
Al grinned. 'Sure, I just knew you couldn't resist my awesome after I beat ya in that game of tag yesterday.'
Arthur rested his head on Al's shoulder and hugged Alfred like a giant teddybear. 'Won, my arse. I clearly beat you and any claim you have otherwise is the ramblings of a confused mind. Now shut up and let me sleep.'
'Keep telling yourself that, bro.' Al muttered half under his breath as he shut his eyes. Oh Arthur'd prolly kick his ass later when he remembered more of his time as a kid, but it'd work out fine.