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“Alfred...” Arthur placed his hands on his hips, brow furrowing in concern as he watched their son scamper about outside their window. “You need to stop him.”
Alfred quirked a brow in turn, confused. “Stop him from what?”
“He’s...!” Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation as he grumbled. “He’s gathered up all the beetles he’s found and is bringing them next door!!”
“Uh-huh...” Alfred nodded, squinting in confusion himself as he rose from his seat to join Arthur, watching as Peter began to knock excitedly on the Irwins’ door. “And... Do we know why, exactly?”
Arthur groaned, expression pained as their son began to call out loudly for their neighbor to hurry and come out. “He said something about finding a beetle the same color as Wendy’s eyes and how he really wanted to show her?" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. "Honestly, I know he’s my child but I just don’t understand that boy sometimes...” He winced as their neighbor’s door opened, the child in question bouncing in place excitedly as Wendy came forward, rolling her eyes.
In contrast to Arthur, Alfred’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Ohhhhhhh...!”
“Ohhh?? What do you mean ‘ohhhhhhh’?!” Arthur demanded, narrowing his eyes as Alfred began to grin almost manically. “You said that like you know something – what’s going on? Is this some sort of Jones thing??”
Alfred just laughed in response. “He’s as much a Kirkland as he is a Jones, babe! And besides, not everything he does comes from my side of the family!”
Arthur huffed, rolling his eyes not too unlike Wendy had at Peter mere moments before, Alfred couldn’t help but note with amusement. “Please! That boy is a Jones through and through! The only thing he got from me was my eyebrows, poor thing...”
Alfred frowned. “Hey, stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop that.” Alfred emphasized, reaching over to turn his husband’s face towards him and get a better look, expression softening as their eyes met and Arthur began to fidget, still so easy to embarrass even after all these years. “You know I don’t like it when you talk bad about yourself like that.”
Arthur rolled his eyes again, swatting weakly at the man’s hand. “You pick the oddest things to get worked up over. I’m just stating a fact, love.”
Despite his words, Alfred wasn’t fooled. He’d known Arthur long enough to know it did bother him, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his brow, comforting and sweet, smiling victoriously when the blond stuttered in response.
“S-Stop that!!” Arthur tittered, stepping back to recompose himself, blushing like mad as he did. Alfred beamed, delighted by his reaction. No matter how old they grew or how long they’d known each other, Arthur never failed to prove to be incredibly easy to fluster and Alfred always found it incredibly attractive the way the flush of his cheeks brought out the green of his eyes.
“Can’t help it! You’re just too adorable, Artie!” Alfred chuckled, the corners of his lips quirking higher as Arthur turned a shade redder and sputtered. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself!”
“You-You’re just too much sometimes, you know that!?” Arthur huffed, crossing his arms to turn away from him as he did so, but didn’t pull away when Alfred stepped closer, wrapping his arms around his waist as he rested his chin on the blond’s shoulder, sighing contentedly. “Just insufferable!”
“I think ‘insatiable’ may be a better word, all things considered...” Alfred hummed, pressing another small kiss to the small of Arthur’s neck, excitement racing through his veins at the shiver elicited in response.
“Alfred,” Arthur cautioned, though it sounded halfhearted and a bit breathy. “Peter could return at any moment...”
“I can be quick.” Alfred assured him, suddenly desperate to have Arthur in his arms... Or on his lap... On the table...? Any way Arthur would allow him to, really.
“A-Alfred...!” Arthur’s breath stuttered as the man in question pressed another, longer kiss to his neck, suckling lightly along the pulse point there. “Oh... Oh, darling...!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Both men were jolted from their shared reverie as a high-pitched scream came from next door.
They looked up just in time to see Wendy run screaming from Peter, beetle clinging tightly to her hair, as Peter screeched apologies and began to hit at her with his net (presumably in an effort to capture the beetle again) as he ran in pursuit.
“Oh, for the love of...!” Arthur swore, reluctantly tearing himself away from Alfred to throw open the window, yelling through it. “PETER FRANKLIN JONES-KIRKLAND!! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE, YOUNG MAN!”
“I’M SORRY, DAD!!”
“DON’T APOLOGIZE TO ME!! APOLOGIZE TO HER!!!” Arthur screeched, horrified by the scene unfolding before them. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO—”
Before either Arthur or Peter could say anything else, Wendy spun around, beetle in hand, and launched it back at Peter, sending the youngest member of the Kirkland-Jones family running screaming as it landed squarely on his face.
“Oh, boy...” Alfred winced, too mortified by what was happening to feel much frustration at his and Arthur’s ruined moment (not to say he was entirely over it, mind you – perhaps the beetle was karmic justice). “PETE!! STOP RUNNING AND BAT IT OFF!!!” He called through the window, just in time for Peter to run head first into the Irwins’ fence post, Wendy crying out in alarm as she, and his parents, rushed over to tend to him.
- - -
Alfred sighed as he stepped into his and Arthur’s shared bedroom, walking over to plop face down on the bed, dejected.
Arthur sighed, lips quirking slightly, sympathetic, as he reached over to rub along his husband’s back. “How did it go?” It had been Alfred’s turn to take whatever tongue-lashing Mrs. Irwin deemed dole out.
“Well... She hates us, I’m pretty sure, but, I mean, nothing new there...”
Arthur grimaced. “I’m sure she doesn’t... Surely, she doesn’t. Or else Wendy would never be allowed to come over here and play.”
“Yeah, about that...” Alfred sat up slightly, hoisting his chin to rest on the palm of his hands as he hummed. “Peter’s not allowed to come over unannounced anymore. She says we need to call in advance.”
“Fucking wonderful.” Arthur groaned, withdrawing his hand to hold his face in both his own. He had been hopeful he and Mrs. Irwin could be friends when they had moved next door. They both enjoyed embroidery and read many of the same books, but, alas, clearly it was not meant to be. “Just bloody brilliant... What was that boy thinking?!” He huffed, beyond frustrated.
“...” Alfred grew very quiet, his eyes narrowing as he considered the situation, before rolling onto his back to sit up and better face Arthur, speaking his thoughts aloud. “I think he likes her.”
“Huh?” Arthur felt his world stop.
That... What?
“He likes her, Arthur.” Alfred repeated, as though knowing on some level Arthur wouldn’t get it immediately. “Like, like likes her.”
“What— But he— No—!” Arthur shook his head, disbelieving. “He’s a child! He’s far too young to—!”
“To what? To know he likes her?” Alfred’s expression grew strangely thoughtful. “I hate to break it to ya, but like you said earlier, he is a Jones, Arthur...” He pointed out, smiling gingerly as he did so. “When we know, we know. And sometimes we know pretty early on.”
“He’s a Kirkland, too!!” Arthur insisted, despite his earlier assertions otherwise about Peter’s own inherited traits. “He’s— Wait a minute.” He froze, eyes growing wide as he processed what his husband had said mere moments before. “What do you mean by that?”
“By what?”
“The way you said it, it sounds like you...” Arthur hesitated. It couldn’t be... Could it? “Alfred..." He had never thought to ask before. He had been curious, sure, but it had never come up. Now, though... "When did you realize you—?”
“Oh, I knew immediately.” Alfred confessed, his tone confident but a bit awkward, almost bashful, as though he’d never intended to admit it.
“Alfred,” Arthur started, looking at him as though he’d grown another head. “We met when we were six years old...”
“Yeah,” Alfred shrugged, expression appearing mostly unbothered except for the light dusting of pink gracing his cheeks. “I know.”
“I—” Arthur faltered. “We were six!”
“Yeah, I know! But when I knew, I knew!” Alfred explained, eyes flitting about sheepishly, looking anywhere and everywhere except for at Arthur. “Look, I know it sounds weird, but I'm telling you it’s the truth!”
“WE WERE SIX!!” Arthur reemphasized, astonished. “The first thing you asked me when we met and you realized I was from England was how my ride over aboard the Mayflower went!!!”
Alfred groaned. “Don’t remind me! I was just kid! I didn't know any better!!”
“Exactly!! So,” Arthur gestured wildly this way and that way, beyond exasperated. “How the hell would you have known that you... You...!”
“Well, for starters, you were stunning. Just—Just absolutely beautiful. You always have been. I’m sorry, Arthur, but that’s just the truth.” Alfred asserted, talking over his startled, stuttering protests otherwise. “Your eyes were the very first thing I noticed about you... And even when you got pissed and called me an idiot for the Mayflower question, I swear they got greener somehow and I just...” He tittered, trailing off and averting his eyes shyly before continuing. “And I mean, you were wearing a Batman shirt, too. So, like, even if it felt like you were really mean in that moment, I knew you had to be pretty cool.”
“Green eyes and a Batman shirt...” Arthur repeated dryly, staring incredulously at him as he did, almost impressed by his idiocy. (And why did it always make his heart want to swell and sing? Was he moronsexual? Was there a name for this maddening condition?? There had to be something deeply wrong with him, on some level.) “That’s how you knew you liked me? At six years old??”
“I don’t know, Arthur!” Alfred spluttered in an almost whining tone, face reddening, as he flopped back down onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. “There was more to it, but I’m not explaining it very well, okay!?”
“I just— I just can’t believe that you—”
“Do you remember?” Alfred asked, cutting him off. “That first summer you were here?”
Arthur hesitated. “... What about it?”
“You know—” Alfred gestured awkwardly here and there, before making a strange flittering motion with his fingers, as though that explained everything. “The June bug thing?”
Arthur paled. “Oh, god...”
Arthur remembered. Of course he remembered.
The June bug incident.
He had been a jealous child, he could admit as much. So much so that his family had taken to teasing him that he was a little “green-eyed monster” quite frequently. Perhaps more so than was warranted at times.
Though they’d clearly meant it as lighthearted ribbing, little Arthur did not yet possess the emotional intelligence to know as much. Somewhere along the way, he began to hate his eye color, annoyed by the easy jab it allowed his brothers to throw at him.
He’d made the mistake of confessing as much to Alfred, a month into their friendship. Summer was in full swing by then, and the boy had proven deceptively easy to warm up to, and when Alfred learned Arthur did not like the color of his eyes, he had set out to prove to him just how “amazing” his eye color truly was.
Which, Arthur had to concede, looking back on it now, did feel like an odd thing for a child his age to say to another... He hadn't registered it at the time, but it certainly did not feel like the normal level of friendly that would be appropriate for children their age, in hindsight...
In the end, Alfred spent about a week gathering up every green thing he could find, trying to find “the perfect shade of green” to show Arthur just how cool his eyes looked to him.
This was annoying at times, but not too terrible. That was, until Alfred had learned about June bugs...
Apparently, June bugs were precisely the shade of green Alfred had wanted to find to show Arthur and, with all the wisdom of a six-year-old, the only acceptable course of action was, of course, to catch as many as he could possibly find to show him.
Which was all fine and dandy, until Alfred excitedly showed up in the Kirkland household, opened his jar of bugs, and the June bugs flew everywhere.
It was the first and only time he’d heard his mother scream, and he remembered it taking hours for him, Alfred, and his brothers to collect and release all of them. (And he’d still gotten jump scared a day later by a couple stray ones they’d missed.)
His mother had considered banning Alfred from their house after that entirely, but relented when Arthur begged her not to. For all his faults, and for all his idiocy, Alfred was a good friend. The only real friend Arthur felt he had had, up to that point, in fact, and—
Arthur’s eyes went wide, raising a hand up to cover his mouth as he stared, stunned, at his husband as the implications fully hit him.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Alfred fidgeted, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “Oh.”
“Oh... Oh, darling...” Arthur couldn’t help but soften at the self-conscious expression on his love’s face, leaning forward to crawl over and lay atop him, pressing a kiss to his jawline before settling in and laying against his chest, positively enamored. “Oh, you sweet, stupid man...”
“I told you...!” Alfred blushed as his husband began to truly dote on him, suddenly and inexplicably lovesick, apparently. “When I knew, I knew! And I was stupid about it!”
“It was sweet.” Arthur insisted, punctuating the statement with another peck to the man’s neck, lips quirking slightly as he felt Alfred’s pulse quicken beneath them. “It was an ill-thought-out plan, but I must admit...” He smiled fully and uninhibitedly. “The color was incredible... I couldn’t believe it when I realized why you’d brought them over to show them to me.”
“I mean... The June bugs were as close as I could find at the time, but,” Alfred shifted Arthur in his hold, moving him so that bright blue eyes would meet effervescent green, expression so soft, so sincere, that Arthur swore he felt his heart stop beating in his chest, his breath stolen away. “I still haven’t found anything that compares to the green of your eyes, Artie...”
They didn’t do much speaking after that.
- - -
The following morning, when they asked Peter why he’d felt the need to show Wendy the rhinoceros beetle, he’d had just one thing to say in his defense.
“Wendy was complaining about how her eyes are the color of mud! I told her, no, they are not!! They're much nicer than mud and there are so many cool things out there the same color as her eyes! I was trying to show her!” Which is why he’d shown her the “incredibly cool beetle” not realizing how much it would freak her out.
Alfred just laughed, smiling smugly as he sipped his coffee and cast Arthur a knowing glance.
For his own part, Arthur just sighed, but smiled nonetheless, as he reconciled just how truly alike the two were.
Like father like son, indeed.
Heaven help that poor girl...