[fanfic] All Rabbits Go To Heaven
Title: All Rabbits Go To Heaven
Author: me!
Characters/Pairings: England, colonial America
Rating: G~
Warnings: bunny death, sad colonies D:
Summary: Do they? Alfred wants to know.
Oh, bloody hell, Arthur thought to himself, dread sinking into his stomach. Fuck you, you stupid little animal.
He laid a handkerchief over the little black and white rabbit, limp and still, under the bush where Alfred had said goodnight to it the evening before. The night had been brutally cold, the first frost of the fall, and Arthur didn’t doubt that it had frozen to death. But it had been old anyhow-Alfred had been carrying the thing around since Arthur had met him, and for however many years beforehand. A long life for even the most durable of rabbits.
The little thing looked peaceful, relaxed and asleep, but Arthur had prodded it, poked it, picked it up and let it flop back to the cold dirt, and could say with some certainty that the little thing was indeed dead. And goodness knew he didn’t want his little colony to come to that conclusion on his own.
He picked himself up from the frozen ground with a weary sigh, and headed back into the house to wake Alfred for breakfast.
~*~
“Can I go outside yet, Arfur? Can I?”
“Not now, Alfred. It’s much too cold.”
Alfred’s face fell, and the damnable guilt began to fester. “But the grass is all white… I wanna go touch it.”
“You can’t go outside, Alfred, you’ll be frozen. Why don’t you go and read in your room for a while, hm?”
“Will you come when you’re done with work?” Alfred’s face was hopeful, and Arthur found his denial washed back down his throat.
“…Of course I will.”
Alfred nodded solemnly, and gave a forlorn, longing little look out the window as he passed it, padding into his room. Arthur sighed heavily, wondering why no one had told him that raising a colony would be such a guilt-ridden endeavor.
He quickly and quietly shrugged into his coat, opening the door with the utmost care and stepping out into the cold on silent feet. Once around the side of the house, he knelt down into the shrubbery-oh, how the mighty do fall-and scooped the now cold rabbit into his hand, wrapping the handkerchief around it and carrying it carefully back inside.
He hurried his parcel into the next room where the fire roared in the hearth, and knelt down beside the stone, wondering absently and perhaps too late if the rabbit would smell as it was cremated-but he could not worry about it now, he had to be rid of the body before Alfred-
“What are you doing, Arfur?”
“Oh, ah-me? Nothing, I’m only… stoking the fire. That’s all.”
Arthur felt fear run cold through his body, and set the rabbit carefully down in front of him on the hearth, hoping it would be hidden until Alfred left and he could burn the damn thing.
“Is that bunny?” Alfred asked innocently, somehow having come up closer to Arthur’s back while it had been turned.
“Oh, um, yes, in fact, it is-the poor thing was cold outside, you see, so I’ve brought it in to warm it up. Why don’t we-go read while we wait for it to wake up?”
Alfred looked up at him as he stood, his face innocent but devoid of expression, and Arthur was terrified in the moment of silence before Alfred nodded and headed back towards his bedroom.
~*~
Arthur was sure to read Alfred his favorite story-King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table-but even at the climaxes of suspense and action, where Alfred would usually be rowdy and bouncing with enthusiasm, the boy remained silent and solemn by Arthur’s side, leaned into him with his head resting gently on Arthur’s arm, his eyes staring down at the pictures as Arthur narrated.
Arthur comforted himself with the thought that Alfred must just have been upset about being confined to the indoors, assuring himself Alfred would perk up when they took a walk that evening after dinner. But even when Arthur closed the book, and the moment where Alfred usually begged for an encore had come and passed, the boy remained despondent.
“What’s wrong with you, hm?” Arthur asked cheerfully, patting the boy’s head. “It will be warm again soon, and then you may go out and play. Perhaps even this afternoon, we could-”
Alfred did not respond to Arthur’s encouragement, instead pushing the book gently out of Arthur’s lap to make room for himself, crawling onto Arthur’s legs and fisting a little hand in the front of Arthur’s shirt. The relative calm of his little voice was perhaps more unnerving than Arthur had anticipated.
“Arfur, is bunny dead?”
Arthur’s blood froze. In that moment, he wasn’t sure why he had assumed Alfred to be stupid, at least in these matters. The boy had surely known his own people to die before, sometimes in droves; why he thought Alfred would buy his tricks was, by that point, beyond him.
He put his hand on the boy’s head again, soothing and gentle this time. “Yes, love, I’m afraid he’s passed away.”
Alfred curled into him a little, tugging at his shirt and leaning into Arthur in a silent request to be held, and Arthur complied, wrapping his arms around his colony and pressing him close. Alfred’s tears were heavy but quiet, his little body quivering with respectfully silent sobs, mourning his faithful friend. Arthur’s heart broke for him, as the pain of losing a companion was familiar to him as well, and he simply cradled his colony the best he knew how.
After a long while, Alfred’s tears abated, and he wiped his reddened cheeks on Arthur’s shirt.
“Can we bury bunny?” he asked, his voice a water-logged croak.
“Yes, of course we can,” Arthur assured him, rubbing his back a little. “Under the tree in the back yard, how does that sound?”
Alfred nodded, leaning back against Arthur’s stomach, tired and limp from crying. “Will bunny go to heaven?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, he will,” Arthur said, without hesitation. “God will take good care of bunny, I promise.”
“Do all bunnies go to heaven?”
“I should think so,” Arthur said, petting Alfred’s hair softly. Whether that answer satisfied him, or the exhaustion from crying overcame him, Alfred was asleep a moment later, curled up in Arthur’s lap, latched onto his shirt. Arthur smiled fondly, gathering his colony up to lay him back onto the bed, stroking his sleeping face softly.
“…stupid rabbit.”
Written fairly fast, so please corret any mistakes. ^^
Shamelessly stolen borrowed from a scene in Little Miss Sunshine. I am a bad person.
Author: me!
Characters/Pairings: England, colonial America
Rating: G~
Warnings: bunny death, sad colonies D:
Summary: Do they? Alfred wants to know.
Oh, bloody hell, Arthur thought to himself, dread sinking into his stomach. Fuck you, you stupid little animal.
He laid a handkerchief over the little black and white rabbit, limp and still, under the bush where Alfred had said goodnight to it the evening before. The night had been brutally cold, the first frost of the fall, and Arthur didn’t doubt that it had frozen to death. But it had been old anyhow-Alfred had been carrying the thing around since Arthur had met him, and for however many years beforehand. A long life for even the most durable of rabbits.
The little thing looked peaceful, relaxed and asleep, but Arthur had prodded it, poked it, picked it up and let it flop back to the cold dirt, and could say with some certainty that the little thing was indeed dead. And goodness knew he didn’t want his little colony to come to that conclusion on his own.
He picked himself up from the frozen ground with a weary sigh, and headed back into the house to wake Alfred for breakfast.
~*~
“Can I go outside yet, Arfur? Can I?”
“Not now, Alfred. It’s much too cold.”
Alfred’s face fell, and the damnable guilt began to fester. “But the grass is all white… I wanna go touch it.”
“You can’t go outside, Alfred, you’ll be frozen. Why don’t you go and read in your room for a while, hm?”
“Will you come when you’re done with work?” Alfred’s face was hopeful, and Arthur found his denial washed back down his throat.
“…Of course I will.”
Alfred nodded solemnly, and gave a forlorn, longing little look out the window as he passed it, padding into his room. Arthur sighed heavily, wondering why no one had told him that raising a colony would be such a guilt-ridden endeavor.
He quickly and quietly shrugged into his coat, opening the door with the utmost care and stepping out into the cold on silent feet. Once around the side of the house, he knelt down into the shrubbery-oh, how the mighty do fall-and scooped the now cold rabbit into his hand, wrapping the handkerchief around it and carrying it carefully back inside.
He hurried his parcel into the next room where the fire roared in the hearth, and knelt down beside the stone, wondering absently and perhaps too late if the rabbit would smell as it was cremated-but he could not worry about it now, he had to be rid of the body before Alfred-
“What are you doing, Arfur?”
“Oh, ah-me? Nothing, I’m only… stoking the fire. That’s all.”
Arthur felt fear run cold through his body, and set the rabbit carefully down in front of him on the hearth, hoping it would be hidden until Alfred left and he could burn the damn thing.
“Is that bunny?” Alfred asked innocently, somehow having come up closer to Arthur’s back while it had been turned.
“Oh, um, yes, in fact, it is-the poor thing was cold outside, you see, so I’ve brought it in to warm it up. Why don’t we-go read while we wait for it to wake up?”
Alfred looked up at him as he stood, his face innocent but devoid of expression, and Arthur was terrified in the moment of silence before Alfred nodded and headed back towards his bedroom.
~*~
Arthur was sure to read Alfred his favorite story-King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table-but even at the climaxes of suspense and action, where Alfred would usually be rowdy and bouncing with enthusiasm, the boy remained silent and solemn by Arthur’s side, leaned into him with his head resting gently on Arthur’s arm, his eyes staring down at the pictures as Arthur narrated.
Arthur comforted himself with the thought that Alfred must just have been upset about being confined to the indoors, assuring himself Alfred would perk up when they took a walk that evening after dinner. But even when Arthur closed the book, and the moment where Alfred usually begged for an encore had come and passed, the boy remained despondent.
“What’s wrong with you, hm?” Arthur asked cheerfully, patting the boy’s head. “It will be warm again soon, and then you may go out and play. Perhaps even this afternoon, we could-”
Alfred did not respond to Arthur’s encouragement, instead pushing the book gently out of Arthur’s lap to make room for himself, crawling onto Arthur’s legs and fisting a little hand in the front of Arthur’s shirt. The relative calm of his little voice was perhaps more unnerving than Arthur had anticipated.
“Arfur, is bunny dead?”
Arthur’s blood froze. In that moment, he wasn’t sure why he had assumed Alfred to be stupid, at least in these matters. The boy had surely known his own people to die before, sometimes in droves; why he thought Alfred would buy his tricks was, by that point, beyond him.
He put his hand on the boy’s head again, soothing and gentle this time. “Yes, love, I’m afraid he’s passed away.”
Alfred curled into him a little, tugging at his shirt and leaning into Arthur in a silent request to be held, and Arthur complied, wrapping his arms around his colony and pressing him close. Alfred’s tears were heavy but quiet, his little body quivering with respectfully silent sobs, mourning his faithful friend. Arthur’s heart broke for him, as the pain of losing a companion was familiar to him as well, and he simply cradled his colony the best he knew how.
After a long while, Alfred’s tears abated, and he wiped his reddened cheeks on Arthur’s shirt.
“Can we bury bunny?” he asked, his voice a water-logged croak.
“Yes, of course we can,” Arthur assured him, rubbing his back a little. “Under the tree in the back yard, how does that sound?”
Alfred nodded, leaning back against Arthur’s stomach, tired and limp from crying. “Will bunny go to heaven?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, he will,” Arthur said, without hesitation. “God will take good care of bunny, I promise.”
“Do all bunnies go to heaven?”
“I should think so,” Arthur said, petting Alfred’s hair softly. Whether that answer satisfied him, or the exhaustion from crying overcame him, Alfred was asleep a moment later, curled up in Arthur’s lap, latched onto his shirt. Arthur smiled fondly, gathering his colony up to lay him back onto the bed, stroking his sleeping face softly.
“…stupid rabbit.”
Written fairly fast, so please corret any mistakes. ^^
Shamelessly stolen borrowed from a scene in Little Miss Sunshine. I am a bad person.