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Arthur and his brothers were incredibly competitive. Sometimes in unusual ways. The competition had been going on practically since their birth. Each of them had different fathers and each of those men resided in a different country that made up the United Kingdom and Ireland. It had been a different time, their mother often said to explain. Additionally, each sibling's custody situation had been slightly different. As a result of all of these factors their rivalry was born.
In the beginning, they believed that the better they could do in their competition, the more attention they would receive. By now it was a point of pride. Their competition pitted achievements of both personal and national in nature against each other. If Liam won first chair in the school orchestra, he was winning. If Scotland beat Ireland in a football match, Alistair was winning.
That's what this holiday dinner was about. It was certainly not about time together or introducing his boyfriend to the family.
Or to be more accurate bringing his boyfriend was all a part of his plan. There was nothing short of a new baby that would so captivate his mother's attention like a new partner. She would be talking about Alfred on every phone call for at least a month. It was going to drive his brothers insane.
Victory was in his hands.
He had even gotten Alfred to wear a tie. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Alfred to consent to traveling overseas, but he had stressed the importance of meeting his mother and had promised his boyfriend a full day of doing whatever he wanted. No doubt that day would begin the moment the sun rose and end long after it went down with lots of sugar and grease in between. But it was going to be worth it.
Of course, his mother had only seen Alfred in his suit for about ten minutes before one of his brothers had shown up. The moment Alfred saw his brother's blue jeans and scuffed boots all promises and pleas were forgotten. His suit jacket was abandoned on a dining room chair with his tie. Alfred had quickly released several of his shirt buttons and allowed his brothers to sweep him away.
Arthur's foot hidden by the kitchen table bounced rapidly as he stared at his boyfriend's jacket. It was a slight hiccup in his plan but not its ruination. There was a clatter from the sink, a gasp, and then a crash.
All noise in the next room abruptly stopped. "Mum!"
"I'm fine, just made a right mess out of supper." His mother hissed a curse as her hands buried themselves in her blonde hair. A shattered pan had splattered across the floor. Steps away the oven was left open, ready to receive it, and now deprived of its purpose. She started pulling off her apron. "Would you mind cleaning this up? I'm going to run to the neighbors' and see if they can spare a pan for the day. I may be able to save the meal if I act fast."
At Arthur's nod she pressed a kiss to his check and her apron to his chest. As the door shut behind her he returned the apron to its hook. His fingers swept over his worn messy stiches. It had been an early sowing project of his. The cooking done in his mother's kitchen had never been any area he could succeed but he had provided her with a number of aprons over the years. The first one, littered with bunnies and carrots, had always been her favorite. It was the only way he had ever managed to sneak a victory in the culinary domain.
He went down on his hands and knees, focusing on the glass first. He plucked the larger shards out of the creamy casserole. He looked about the kitchen for paper towels. They always had a habit of migrating about. As he cleaned the casserole escaped his clutches oozing out and on to his hands as he worked.
"Knock. Knock." Arthur looked up to see Alistair leaning against the kitchen doorway looking very smug. "Lost in thought, little brother?"
Arthur sat back on his heels. He smirked up at his oldest brother. Arrogant jerk, like he could catch Arthur off guard. "Yes, actually. I'm just so glad Mum and Alfred seem to be getting along so well."
Alistair smiled back at him with an alarming amount of sweetness. "Oh aye, and it sounds like his mum would get along with her too. Leave them alone for too long and they'll start hearing wedding bells."
"Well then, I guess that settles that. Should I start looking at wedding venues?" Arthur eyed his brother suspiciously. None of his brothers ever took a victory so calmly.
He chuckled. "You should get married in Scotland or Ireland."
Arthur's lips curled. He went to the sink to wash his hands and hopefully clean the image from his head. "Why on earth would I do that?"
Alistair smiled, absolutely delighted by the thoughts in his head. He held a Glencairn glass in his hand. He tilted the glass watching his whiskey swirl around. "I think his mum would be delighted by it."
"Alistair what do you think you know?"
Alistair laughed. "Well we were talkin' to your sweetheart. And he mentioned how his mum's real into genealogy."
"Yes, I've heard all about it. She's very proud of her family's history. They've been in the States since the beginning."
"Oh aye, they have. Came over before the revolution, he says." His brother let his words hang in the air, enjoying every moment of Arthur's attitude. He always did this. If he didn't go off the handle, then he would twist his verbal knife real slow. "Did he ever mention why?"
"Freedom?" That was what Alfred had always said in an impression of Mel Gibson in Braveheart.
Alistair's grin was like a wolf crippling its prey. "Yes, they were fleeing the English."
Arthur scoffed. "Don't be dramatic. Not every colonist found England to be unlivable."
"They were Jacobites."
"No," Arthur gasped.
"Oh Yes. And his fathers' side..."
"Fought in the American Civil War," Arthur was quick to cut off his brother hoping that would be enough to stop his slander.
"Immigrated during the potato famine." Arthur hands fumbled for a glass. Desperate for something to relieve the foul taste in his mouth.
"Your boy is Scottish-Irish-American. We told him to ask mum for her calcannon recipe. He said he'd love that." Arthur flinched at the thought. Calcannon! He loved his mother, truly he did, but her family cooking included far too many "Celtic" dishes. The worst among them, excluding haggis, was the tasteless, formless, unholy combination of potatoes and cabbage was calcannon.
You'll never escape Arthur." Arthur gulped water down. Then he took his glass, raised it high above his head, and brought it crashing down into the sink. It instantly shattered and stopped Alistair's laughter. "Fuck, you just ruined mum's-"
"I will replace it," Arthur hissed. A wild anger burned in his eyes. Of all the fucking stunts his brothers could have pulled, of all the tricks they could have played, this one was most foul. His guest, his boyfriend was being turned into a weapon to not only humiliate Arthur but all to invalidate all his arguments about their respective homelands. Well, he was not going to stand for it.
Arthur charged into sitting room. Alfred had changed seats from when Arthur had left him. Instead of occupying the loveseat alone he was now sharing the couch with Liam. Their laughter stopped when they caught sight of Arthur.
"Artie?" Alfred's lips were already beginning to fall downwards.
Arthur smiled sweetly at him. His brother scowled at that. They had gotten very familiar with Arthur's deadly grins over the years. "Alfred, darling, may I have a word."
Alfred nodded as he stood. Arthur's hand latched around his arm and began to drag him off. His brother grumbled, "Nice meeting you laddie." Arthur shot a glare back at him.
Arthur took Alfred back to his childhood room. The door had two locks that Arthur had demanded as soon as he had heard he would be living with any of hi brothers. He quickly snapped them into place. Then he dropped to the floor and pressed his ear to the crack between the door and the floor. He needed to ensure his brothers had not followed.
Once he was satisfied, he began to pace. This needed to be handled. He needed swift and firm action. If given the chance his brothers would turn this into a never-failing final hit to every battle they would ever have.
Alfred sat on the bed watching Arthur pace the room with furrowed brows. "Umm…Artie, is everything alright?"
Arthur didn't look at him. How could he? Where could he even begin? "Why wouldn't everything be all right?"
"Well, you've let me call you Artie twice. Once even in front of your brother." Great. Arthur had been so caught up in separating Alfred from his brothers that he didn't even notice. It was just one more thing that they would hold over his head. Arthur huffed angrily.
"So…"
"Nothing is wrong."
Alfred gave out a little huff of air that meant he wanted to laugh but knew it was a bad idea. It only added further fuel to Arthur's anger. That he could laugh when Arthur was clearly upset. "It really doesn't look like it," Alfred said.
"Has it occurred to you that maybe you've misread the situation? That maybe you just haven't grasped the intricacies of my family's inner workings in five minutes?"
Alfred flinched at Arthur's tone. "Maybe but-"
"No buts. Not now. Just let me think." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
Arthur looked at his boyfriend with narrowed eyes. The nerve of Alistair, to suggest that they get married in up north. What a stupid idea.
Leaving aside all the failings of brothers homelands, it would be a disaster. There wouldn't be a single photo that didn't have sheep in them. It gave Arthur a headache just thinking about it. Alfred would probably be delighted though. He would want to pet them. He'd probably ruin his suit. And it would have taken so long to get him into a proper suit in the first place. Well, maybe not. Alfred may not like dressing up, but he did love looking good and for a wedding looking good meant having a suit if not a tux. Alfred would look good in a tux.
He'd probably want the something similar for the proposal. Perhaps a classic night at a top restaurant with red wine and roses. There would have to be romantic music when he went down on one knee. Or perhaps he should do something a bit more modern. A surprise proposal on the steps of the aerospace museum with dancers, music, and balloons or the like. Arthur was shit at dancing so maybe he could just plan it, walk up the stairs, and then propose.
Would Alfred want to be the one proposing or being proposed to? And…Arthur stopped.
"Artie? Are you alright?" Arthur's mouth opened and closed. Red rose up on his cheeks as he lost his breath. Had he just? Oh God, he had.
"I," Arthur's voice trailed off. I just realized I want to marry you. "Yes. Yes I am. Alistair was being an ass and I needed some time away. I lost control of my temper, I didn't mean to snap at you."
Alfred smiled at him. A tension that Arthur had barely noticed leaking out of his shoulders. He reached out for Arthur's hand and pulled him closer. Arthur's gaze remained stuck on Alfred's fingers imagining a gold band. "Family'll drive anyone crazy. But I'm proud of you. I know you've been working really hard on your temper." He pressed a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth. "You really do take your competition too seriously though."
"My competition?"
"Yeah the one you have with your brothers. It's really obvious." Alfred's smile was dazzling. It was one Arthur had never been able to resist reacting to, either in anger or affection. It said, I know I'm smart and you do to. Don't you want to kiss me?
He did. He desperately wanted to kiss him. But he couldn't right now. With the knowledge he had now, if he started kissing him he wouldn't be able to stop. And if Alfred said yes, he would never have to. He could spend the rest of his life waking up to kisses in the morning, ending each day with more, and having countless ones in between. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, you may be right about me not knowing enough about them to know the 'intricacies' of your family. But I do know you and you looked like you just watched Francis throw your scones in the trash. Whatever they said to you, you're taking it too hard. Who cares what they have to say? You don't even live here anymore. If you decided you never wanted to come back, we wouldn't."
Arthur pushed back on Alfred's shoulder until they were lying across the bed. Arthur hovered over him. "I thought you were enjoying the visit?"
"Yeah I am but I love you, so you get to set the rule." Arthur kissed Alfred, slow and lazy. Taking time to taste the peppermint on his tongue, to savor the soft heat under his own lips. These lips were his to kiss. This man was his to hold and love and cherish. And he would hopefully forever. He drew away slowly.
"My mother would be terribly disappointed if we didn't visit."
Alfred stretched his arms out and lay them behind his head. "Then use me as an excuse. You could tell her I have a terrible fear of flying."
Arthur laughed at that. Alfred was ridiculous. How could he explain that his boyfriend had a pilot's license but was afraid of flying? Or maybe he could never say anything about it. He could come over every holiday season, put up with his brother's competition and his mothers recipes and sneak his fiancé away to steal kisses.
"Perhaps I do take it a tad too seriously." But that was all he would admit to today. He couldn't tell anyone about his revelation, not now and never truthfully. Competitions and rivalries may be silly and far too dramatic but he'd be damned if he let his brother know it was his snarky comment that made Arthur decide to propose.
Besides, he needed a ring first.