christmas cheer.

For Revvie because she made me finish it. UsUk to the minorest of extents.

---

It was cold, Christmas around the bend as stores set up their flashy displays as if the time of year needed any more pronunciation – he was in America though, after all. It wasn’t even December, instead only a day after Thanksgiving yet everything had turned from fall into winter. Clasping his scarf a little tighter, Arthur pushed into the small book store and wandered to his usual place in the corner. It was more of a sit down café with a section dedicated to coffee and little things, but the back was lined with books and all the inspiration a writer could ever need. And, well, they had free wi-fi which was a luxury he couldn’t get to work in his apartment.

There was a silence today he mused over the hum of his computer as it started up, the cold causing a lag on the components. Susan was the older woman who owned the shop, large and short, but her eyes sparkled with warmth and carried a special fondness for him, so Arthur was never to complain when she came over and pecked his cheek. She was sort of like his American mother.

“How are you today?” she asked, seating herself across from him. Arthritis had gotten to her over the years, and he watched her flex her fingers as her wedding band slipped up and down over her knuckles, far too large since the day she had received it. Susan had told him the story once, but he feared if he thought too much over it, he’d look saddened himself and crate her grief too, so he just nodded and responded.

“Good, it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” the youngest Kirkland answered, patting her hand before moving to type in his password. She watched him with a glimmer, her lips tightening into a smile.

“That it is, it’s so good you come in otherwise I’d feel so lonely in all this cold.”

Arthur smiled faintly, emerald eyes giving a little special shine of their own. “You know me Susan, I won’t ever keep away from here. Aren’t the holiday shoppers about?”

The elderly widow sighed loosely, shaking her head as she moved to stand. “You know kids these days as much as I know you – they don’t want anything little ol’ me can offer. Well, except for you, boy.”

He turned and looked, confused by her tone as she clearly wasn’t speaking to him anymore. Lifting his chin to glance over the counter, he realized that they really weren’t all so alone as they thought. The boy waved, standing up with a groan as he dusted off his pants.

“I’m here, Mrs. Susan,” he stated, fixing his glasses on his face. Even from here Arthur cold see they were dirty, like he had been kicking up dust and just left it there. Frowning, he tried to remain friendly as the boy moved from out behind the oak cupboards. “It’s almost all sorted, I got the shelf all fix’d up too,” he continued, accepting a hug as she opened her arms.

Arthur tried not to look jealous, instead busying himself with opening files, muttering under his breath as they took eons to load.

“Thank you for your help, sit down, I’ll get your pay,” she told him softly, running her hands down the boy’s shoulder before shuffling off to work, pulling out cups and packages. The blond boy nodded eagerly, and without any warning, took the seat across from him.

Arthur stared blankly over the screen of his laptop.

“Alfred F. Jones!” he greeted loudly, sticking out his hand to the elder man, the fool smile still plastered on his face beneath dirty glasses. Arthur scrunched his brows together, simply nodding in greeting.

“Arthur Kirkland,” the Englishman muttered, wondering idly how much longer Alfred would be here. He’d be hospitable for Susan’s sake, but he was still confused. There was at least four other tables he could seat himself at.

She set a cup of tea down on the coaster Arthur had already moved over where he always placed it, beside his left hand just in reach of his finger tips, and set a thermos of hot chocolate beside Alfred who had already had the top off before either of them had said ‘thanks’.

The snow was still falling and finding a spot to rest his feet where Alfred’s weren’t so rudely close, he sipped his tea calmly as he fell into the practice of re-reading his lines. He was lacking progress, but he figured the holidays were in place of that. They always kept him in such a vile mood.

“So,” the blue eyed boy asked, a thin mustache of his drink warm on his upper lip, “what are you doing?”

Arthur gestured to his computer like it was the most obvious thing ever, and Susan laughed from her perch behind the counter, a note pad under her fingers.

“No, like,” Alfred started as he shook his head, face heating up to the same degree as his hot chocolate. He looked utterly childish, tugging at a thread on the seam of his worn out looking sweatshirt. “Susan told me you were a writer. That’s really cool. Fantasy? Si-fi? Auto biography? Action heroes?”

It didn’t surprise him – she rather bragged about him like he was her own child, but usually, he knew the other people that were coming in and she was speaking to. Alfred was leaning forward, and with a swift motion he snapped the laptop close. “Ficton, actually. Simple people living life.”

“Oh,” he bespectacled boy said in a little bore of a sound, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand. He licked his cracked lips, running the back of his other hand across his mouth. “That’s cool. I really like the sci-fi high flying fantasy stuff. Super heroes and the alike. Y’know?”

“Charming,” Arthur responded in the flattest tone he could manage, and to his surprise, received the most genuine smile ever in return.

-

“Who was that?” he asked loudly, watching as Alfred’ retreating shape moved down the snow covered road. He had his backpack with him, something Arthur hadn’t noticed before, but it was largely stuffed and only dangled from a single strap.

“Alfred’s a good boy,” Susan responded instantly, taking up the already warmed spot as she replaced Arthur’s old cup with a new, fresh steaming one. Her tone was sad though and worriedly, the author wondered if he had offended her with something.

“Never seen him before, but he did seem like an alright lad,” he responded to try and lighten the mood, but she didn’t seem to hear the intentions in his words. Shifting his emerald eyes up, he patted her hand again before clasping it lightly. Arthur wasn’t sure what had put her into the mood, but she took his hand up gently and he felt her old wedding ring press against his calloused fingers.

“He’s been coming here for ages asking for a job, but I can’t afford to take on another. Marci went home for the holidays, but even then I can’t spare him the pay. He said anything would do, so I’ve been paying him in some left over stock,” Susan explained lightly, glancing out onto the very street the boy had left on. “He said as long as he could warm up for a bit, he was fine with it.”

Arthur stared at her for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. “Issues at home?”

She sighed, her hand slipping from his as she stood, the door ringing as another customer entered. “Who knows.”

-

Alfred was there again and the day after when Arthur returned to complete his work. The store was silent again except for the radio tuned into Christmas cheer and the sound of the younger boy stacking boxes in the back room. Susan was upstairs, the door to the staircase open so she could be beckoned if someone entered. While he had made peace with the boy the past two days since meeting him, the Englishman seriously required progress to be made on his story if any chance of meeting his deadline was to come.

He worked beside the chilly window, pulling at his hair as he combed through it, reading over each and every word. Did it make sense? Would it offend anyone? Screw those offended, does it appeal to the rest? Arthur was deep into his work when he was startled from the commotion behind him.

“It’s alright!” Alfred yelled instantly before Susan could come running to his aid and attempt to clamber down the stairs, so instead the boy singularly began to pick up the tumbled stack. Arthur sighed, closing his laptop before walking over.

“Sorry,” he apologized under his breath, flustered that he had brought Arthur’s attention over even though he had been working. The author shook his head, helping to re-stack the books as he skimmed the spines to assure they had been in the right section in the first place. He’d seen Alfred squint at them a few times.

“It’s alright,” Arthur echoed, pausing to rub at his eyes so they’d refocus properly from his transition from fantasy land to the real. He reached to grab a book from Alfred’s hand and was shocked to feel his fingers so ice cold.

“What?” the boy asked, picking up the dropped book to hand it back to Arthur once more. He shook his head, swallowing hard.

“Nothing,” he admitted. Alfred had been here almost as long as he had. Sliding the book into place, he watched and younger boy from the corner of his eye. Who left the house in winter in only a tee-shirt and an abused sweatshirt?

“Alfred,” Arthur started again, shifting on his heels to get better access to the shelving. The blue eyed boy paused, his jaw dropping in inquiry, “are you working much longer? I-I was going to get Dinner.”

He shook his head, the smile lighting back up on his face. “No, not much longer,” he stated, but the look fell just as fast as it had appeared, “but ah, I really don’t have the cash in the pocket for that…”

“No matter,” Arthur dismissed, standing and offering a hand to hoist the other one up. “I think I can handle to pay for the two of us.”

-

The cold had made them red faced, blushed over with cold as they entered the restaurant. A server came over as Arthur pounded out his boots on the carpet, and Alfred sluggishly tried to wipe the slush from the top of his beat up Converse.

“For two?” the curly haired woman asked, a pair of menus under arm and the author gave a swift nod. With indifference, she led them to a booth in the back where the business was a bit warmed and Arthur appreciated it with a warm compliment as he ordered a simple water.

“Same bill please by the way... Alfred?” he prompted, already gliding through the menu. The younger blond frowned, glancing at the choices for a second like he had never heard of such thing as Pepsi products.

“White soda is fine,” he informed her after a bit and she parted with a promise to be right back to take orders. Arthur watched him for a moment, having no need to pay much attention to the menu other than to confirm what he always ordered was still there. He could see the other man was obviously hung up about either the options or the prices, but he kept hush and adjusted his legs under the table only to kick Alfred’s large backpack from where it had been thrown under the booth.

“Sorry,” he apologized swiftly, but Alfred barely even breathed in response. Tapping his fingers on the table next to his, the Brit drew his attention.

“Order what ever you want, this isn’t life or death lad,” he urged, large brows furrowing a bit as the younger blond looked so hopelessly at him. He nodded in agreement, laying the menu flat and smoothed it out with cold fingers.

“Alright,” he responded, smiling the same way he always seemed to. Arthur ordered for himself as she returned, and after another pause of consideration as he twirled his straw in his soda, Alfred told him simply a cheeseburger, mayo on the side, please. As she left, the green eyed man couldn’t help but hone onto to the other entirely.

He watched him sip at his soda, and he almost lit up like a very Christmas tree before him, even though Arthur could clearly tell he was trying to hide his delight. “Alfred, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

Alfred almost jumped, glancing down as his drink as he gave a loud ‘uhhhh’ for a moment and Arthur shook his head to reassure him that no, he wasn’t acting out of place or anything, he was just curious.

“19,” he responded honestly, eyes large behind his glasses, face largely innocent as Arthur gave him an incredulous stare.

“Not to be rude, chap, but you don’t like you should even be out of secondary school,” he admitted honestly, and Alfred laughed and said something about how he didn’t look like a middle schooler, but it was apparent it was just lost in translation.

The Englishman really didn’t mean that young though - the other had broad shoulders, the large hands and the height to be 19 possibly, yes, but it was just hard to believe. He’d gotten through puberty well then to turn out to be such an attractive man if Arthur could nudge that in without sounding extraordinarily creepy.

“I’m not lying, it’s exactly what’s on my license man,” he laughed, reaching down and pulling his backpack up but it’s sole strap. The American took out his wallet and laid his official plastic down on the table, grinning wildly. “Not to be rude, you look like you could be married to my Mom, how old are you?”

Arthur snorted, verifying with a down stroke of a glance that he really honestly was as aged as his claimed. It was also slightly unsettling of thinking of Alfred driving - he’d seen him try to stack books before, what would he do with a vehicle? “23, you offensive git.”

“Prove it!” he beamed, wide grinned as he pulled his license back and stuffed it again into his over sized bag, setting it beside him this time on the bench. Arthur did very that, producing it and placing it on the table. Alfred went through the same motions, nodding in approval for some reason. “Not bad, I thought you we’re like, British or something? Why you got a Massachusetts license?”

“I was raised in England,” he explained casually, sliding his wallet back into place. “Moved here with my Mother before I turned 18 so it made me a citizen. As much as it pains me to announce it, I resigned my citizenship in favor of here in the states so I could keep my Mother happy. All my fools of siblings are still across the ocean.”

Alfred hummed, clasping his hands together as the warmth of the restaurant finally caught up with both of them. In his thick down jacket, Arthur had long been toasty, but across the way, the younger’s fingers had barely stopped shaking. He was pulling off his thin mittens and pushing them into the flap of his bag, and the Brit tilted his head the slightest.

“... if you don’t mind me intruding again Alfred, what exactly do you always carry with you?” he asked softly in a submissive tone, alright with being turned down.

The American paused, glancing up at him over the dirty rims of his glasses. He nodded slowly, cheeks dimpling as he only cracked a hair of a smile, “Here, yeah, I’ll show you!”

Surprised by the response, he shifting both their drinks over as the bright blond began to pull things out, startling Arthur a little bit further. It really was like a mobile home, and he felt like a bastard. He was showing all the people around them his life fit in a child’s school bag. He was pushing aside extra shirts, a few the emerald eyed man recognized from the past few days, but it surprised him more when he pulled out a worn Superman comic book and laid it on the table, shoving the rest down beside him again.

“I keep it in the middle so it doesn’t get ruined by the weather,” Alfred explained giddily, leaning over the table so the over head light shone almost directly over his head. The cover was torn in half, and the first few pages were water logged and almost illegible, but almost on cue from memory, the boy began to read them for him and Arthur stared, incredulous.

“And here, it’s like super cheesy, so I’ll narrate, but he like pulls her up with one arm to his chest,” the blue eyed man paused for effect, “and she leans in to kiss him... and then the page goes yellow, says bang...”

“And?” the author asked, still slightly stunned.

“Who knows,” he admitted quickly, laughing, “I’ve never seen the issue after this.”

“That’s a shame. It seems like you’ve had this a long time though, it’s out and published, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered softly, closing the cover again slowly to slip the loose pages back into place. He was tracing the letters with his eyes, and for a second Arthur swore he was going to cry as he bent one of the staples back into place. The Englishman reached out and rested a hand on his wrist out of concern, unsure what he would do if that was the case. “I’m good,” he reassured quickly, and Arthur backed off.

“My Dad used to buy them for me, and I used to have all of them in this series... some stuff happened, but I was also so excited for the next, I only kept the last issue I had just so I knew where to leave off when I got the next.” Almost hurt, Alfred glanced out the snow packed window, a small section left open where the snow drift couldn’t stick. “He said he’d bring it the next time he saw me and my Ma but he never did.”

The younger boy was looking at him, but Arthur had no clue what to say. He cleared his throat lightly, looking down as he gave Alfred a moment to himself. “That’s sad to hear. At least you can always picture your own ending?” he prompted, trying to spark some life back into the usually cheerful American.“... Yeah,” he said finally, laughing a bit to himself as he slid it back into place, “they get past the shit then whoosh, off into the sky they go again and have five kids or something like that.”

He was ready to respond, but the bouncy lady was back with a tray on each hand. “Grilled cheese,” she stated as she left Arthur’s meal and only hummed as she set down Alfred’s, a fry rolling off onto the table. “Enjoy!”

Whatever had to say he held back, as Alfred looked happier than any kid could.

-

Night time had only made it colder, but walking side by side with distance to spare, at least loneliness was kept at bay. Susan’s curtains were already closed, and Arthur watched the store pass as they moved down the slushy block.

“So where are you heading?” the author asked tentatively, as they were already moving in opposite direction Alfred had departed in the last few days. He didn’t want to embarrass him, but somewhere down, he wanted to hear the words for sure. Alfred was homeless, that was that.

“Over by the park,” he responded casually, shoulders bunched as he tried to keep warm. “My brother and I stay over there.”

Arthur hummed, thinking. While they we’re only a few hours acquaintances, it hurt to think about it. He couldn’t only offer the blue eyed blond a place to stay for the night, then not his brother. Playing off his quilt, the Englishman nodded. “Working tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he responded happily, hands bunching inside his pockets as they came to a slow at the corner. “Thanks for supper.”

“Not an issue. See you tomorrow,” Arthur responded slightly hoarsely and moving away, he couldn't help but catch that same over the top smile.

-

Somehow a week had passed under Arthur’s fingers, a first draft finally rounding out under his fingers. He was proud as he was well before deadline, and felt almost sick to admit his motivation came from Alfred. If he could be happy and move forward to be productive, why couldn’t he? Triumphant, he’d left his laptop open and wandered into the book section beside his said inspiration, smiling warmly to himself. Susan was off on the other aisle, a customer at her side as they discussed cook books and how to prepare Christmas ham.

The American looked up from the box, adjusting his glasses. “Hey.”

“Hello,” he muttered under his breath, trying to find amusement in the titles before he’d gloat. For his usual reluctance to share his life - Arthur was well proud of his accomplishment.

Apparently it wasn’t well enough, as the bespectacled boy glanced up and laughed. “Who put what in your tea today?”

Arthur flushed over, folding his arms in a huff. “The tea was perfectly lovely as usual - the only one to ever do such a barbaric thing would be you, Jones. Actually, I finished my first rough draft.”

“Congrats,” he stated airily, standing up with a heave as he lifted a box onto the stack. The author waited for a moment, but when he received no more words, he shifted his weight. Alfred caught on, dusting his hands off. “I can’t really say much else without reading it, you know that right Artie?”

He detested that name and it had formed in the past few days, but to his dislike it had somehow stuck. Susan had even said it in passing when she gave him his good morning kiss. “If you can prove to me you actually can, you may,” he retorted quickly.

Alfred glanced over, biting back words and puzzled, Arthur wondered if he said the wrong thing once more. Putting his foot in his mouth was rather his style these days. “Read it out loud to me instead?”

Arthur scoffed and patted the American’s back once strongly in annoyance before pounding back off to his seat.


-


The lights went off on him, leaving him the wake of the blue glow from his computer. Glancing up, he saw both Susan and Alfred at the door, and a hand on the large switch that ran the whole store. Most had them in the back but as a remodel of an old home, these sat at the front. “You must of missed closing call,” she said with a laugh, “we didn’t want to disturb you but it’s late, hun.”

Arthur rubbed at his eyes, shutting the lid and slipping it back into his carrying bag. He pecked her cheek and walked out with Alfred as Susan closed the door behind them, locking it before moving through the dark for her upstairs home. It was unusual for the younger man to still be around so late, so he asked with a yawn what the occasion was.

“Christmas is in two weeks,” he pointed out, his breath gathering before him as they stood under the street light. Arthur was aware of that, so he shrugged in prompt. “I worked out a deal to pick up some reads for Matthew with Susan, so I’m pulling over time until the Holidays are over. Besides, he’s staying somewhere else tonight so I had no need to get home,” Alfred explained on a shrug. His face seemed drained under the low light, and the author wondered if the boy was getting sick.

“Alfred,” he said sharply, which was the best way only to ever get his attention. He looked every time, but Arthur couldn’t tell if it was just because he was the one saying it. “... Why don’t you come over with me tonight? I’ll share my draft with you and you can get a little warm.”

The elder Jones twin stared for a moment, crumpling his hand around the strap of his backpack. He looked taken back, like he was making out with the cash and the police dropped the follow light on him. Arthur glanced down to his nice Oxford’s, then to Alfred’s soaking Converse.

“... I’m not wrong, am I? To be thinking you’re out of a home, Alfred?” the Englishman asked carefully, afraid that the younger would bolt and never come back. He wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if that happened.

The blond boy looked so visibly hurt, his gaze off to the road as a wheezing car slowly drifted by on the snow slick. “... No, you’re perfectly right,” Alfred responded, and his backpack slipped off his shoulder as he visibly slumped. “... We’ve been living at the Holiday shelter since before Thanksgiving, but you can’t always promise much as you have to be there early.”

Arthur let his jaw hang a little slack as he reached up, not far, Alfred was only inches taller than him, and pulled him down into a hug as he shushed over the noise of the night. He cried so openly that he wondered how long it had been going on. It struck how much he had been trying to hide it from them - Alfred hadn’t been on a rush with him after their meal because he no longer had a chance to stay anywhere. He’d purposely slept out in the snow or god knows where.

“If you or your brother are ever shorted, Alfred, just tell me. I live on my own, I won’t protest to company,” he stated softly, brushing down his blond hair as the boy clung a little closer. Arthur wasn’t sure how long they stood like that but his own fingers had gone numb, and he feared as to what that equated for the American. “... if Matthew is already somewhere warm, please, take up my offer.”

He sighed heavily, lifting his glasses to wipe at his freezing face with a nod. “Yeah, I will,” Alfred responded hoarsely, and Arthur placed a hand on the small of his back, tracing small comforting circles.

“Hope you like bed time stories then, lad.”

-

Rudolph was on the television when Arthur awoke and under his breath he cursed the stations for anticipating too early. As he had been reminded last night, Christmas still was only two weeks away. If Rudolph was to be cherished, this was far too early. The couch shifted beside him and he figured it was far too early for Alfred too.

With his laptop cradled at right side, the blond boy was curled into his left, his head pillowed on his thigh as they had attempted to share the couch respectively despite it being too small. His left over tea was cold on the coffee table beside the empty mug of hot chocolate and glancing down, he inspected Alfred with emerald orbs before slowly sliding out from underneath. His hair was almost complete static and it crackled as he slipped away, but if he hadn’t been such a tosser of a sleeper, he wouldn’t of generated it from rubbing against his pants so much. His own fault.

Despite the commendable actions going on the TV, tracking down an Abominal and all, Arthur lazily began to make himself breakfast. Maybe today he’d ask Alfred to introduce him to his brother so he could properly extend his home and welcome them in. While he’d made it sound like an option while they stood in the cold, he was more than willing to hand over his guest bedroom to the two. What caused him to be so hospitable he wasn’t sure, but it felt good.

The couch moaned, and with a fresh cup for each of them in hand, he slyly plopped back down next to Alfred and pulled up his laptop. “Where did we leave off?”

-

The store had picked up, the rush of last minute shoppers pushing Arthur practically out of the store. While out on his internet, he could still at least do research and study off of his small library of books if not actually catch up on the news and happenings beyond the walls of his daily routine. Susan had been allowing Alfred his extra hours and he had eagerly grabbed them up, leaving his presence absent from the small apartment.

Matthew was on the couch when the author returned home from his tea run, and he smiled gently at the awkward boy. Despite their similar appearance, it amazed him how far apart their personalities drifted.

“Morning,” the Englishman greeted, taking the seat in the arm chair. The younger Jones waved tiredly, returning the salutations a bit more softly. He had no issues with the boy - he was respectful and treated his home like a hotel, unlike Alfred who had set up camp all the way down to sharing his toothbrush holder with Arthur.

It was quiet as he worked, pouring over another novel he greatly enjoyed and took light inspiration from as the boy chased down girl who was set on her adventure through towns. Gone one day and there the next, as if a map could ever be wrong.

“Arthur,” the blond boy asked to break the silence and after a brief pause, Arthur looked over in inquire. Matthew’s eyes were so much more captivating then Alfred’s if he could admit that - so grey they almost appeared violet.

“Yes?” he chimed, folding over the page to book mark it.

“... if you don’t mind me making assumptions,” Matthew stated openly, and worriedly, stopped looking at the Englishman. “Was there a bigger reason you asked Alfred and I to live with you?”

Arthur paused, frowning for a moment in thought. “What does that mean? I’m not doing it to save rent, actually quite the opposite case, nor shouting it to the heavens to make myself look better if that is what you are hinting.” It wasn’t sour, rather calm, but he was still relatively taken back by it.

“No, like,” Matthew defended, his shaggy blond locks falling around his face. He paused though, and in the same sense of thought like Arthur, he stopped. “Nothing,” he finished with a knowing smile, and the Brit stared, confused. “Nothing at all.”

-

Christmas Eve was uneventful as the three of them gathered in front of the television, their newest place as of late to congregate. Susan had been over earlier, her fresh offering of Christmas Apple pie taking over the usually musk scent of Arthur’s apartment. Alfred and Matthew had been squabbling earlier, but now were in a tangle on the couch, and as the younger had claimed, ‘in a show of brotherly love’ before forcing down a headlock. Matthew had clearly fallen asleep, but Alfred’s blue eyes were showing in the dim dark. Their gifts were on the floor beside them, a polar bear mug for Matthew so they could stop sharing, a few CDs to match the old Walkman Alfred had managed to pull from his closet last week and a cradle of candy.

Arthur shifted, catching sight of Alfred so contently on the couch where one arm dangled over the edge, the rest of him almost completely covering Matthew.

“Hey,” he chimed softly at the Englishman, and he returned it properly while he edged the volume on the television down a few notches. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Arthur replied softly, moving from his spot resting against the couch so Alfred could get up without waking Matthew. He arched like a satisfied cat once he gained the room, and the Brit heard as his back cracked loudly.

“I’m heading to bed,” he blue eyed Jones informed, tugging down his shirt where it had drifted over his stomach as he yawned tiredly. He was into the hallway before Arthur caught up with him, stopping him by the elbow with his thin, writing calloused fingers.

“Wait, come here with me,” the elder man responded, pulling him sideways and into his room with the gentlest of tugs. Usually they only interacted during the day in his room, and it felt odd in the dark to see him standing there as he dug out the thinly wrapped package. Arthur slid the door closed, gesturing for Alfred to sit, to which he did. He held the present out with it’s button wrapping paper, and the younger man took it.

“Artie, you know I couldn’t get you anything, I’m broker than broke...” he trailed off, flipping it over in his hands.

“Open it,” Arthur encouraged, sitting beside him on the tartan quilt. He did so slowly, tearing away the paper gently. Alfred’s voice shrank and disappeared, leaving his jaw only to hang a bit slack.

“... it’s the last issue,” he cooed softly, trailing his fingers over the glossy inked letters. The author chuckled at his own accomplishment, draping an arm over the other’s shoulders as he hugged him loosely.

“I wanted to help you complete it, so maybe you can rebuild a proper collection,” Arthur explained just as softly as if he would ruin everything if he didn’t, taking Alfred’s words as a way of gratitude. Matthew had told him about their father, and he knew he was never coming back, not atleast before the Englishman could right out ring his neck. Reaching over, he opened the cover and exposed the front page before the blond shooed away his hands and began to read on his own. He watched in silence as the pages flipped, not even peaking as it allowed him to experience it on his own. When he finished, he stared at the back cover blankly.

“And the conclusion?” Arthur asked softly, both his hands back into his lap as his watched Alfred search for the words.

Breaking into a smile he turned, laughing loudly enough in glee he was sure they heard it next door. “Happily ever after.”

“Yeah?” the Englishman cooed as if he hadn’t know that, tilting his head the slightest as he parted his lips in order to smile fondly at the bespectacled boy. “You must be some sort of mind reader.”

He leaned back in the slightest and kissed him gently. “Or some sort of closet Superman.”