Chapter Text
New England is nothing like Actual England and Peter officially has no idea why they call it that. Sure, it's wetter than he'd thought it would be and the people are just as grouchy, but that's where the similarities stop. England feels like home, and Massachusetts feels cold and daunting and all too unfamiliar. He misses his home, and that pang reminds him of an even greater one, the very reason he can't go back. His parents passed away in an accident about 4 months ago and their house in London was sold shortly after. England may very well never be his home again, and he'd cry about it if only he had any tears left to spare on the matter. Unfortunately he's had to deal with grief far too much for someone of his age, and that makes him all but desensitized to the plethora of changes that have recently taken root in his young life.
As he looks around the busy airport he's currently pushing his way to the front of, he finds himself daring to hope for a familiar face. Or as familiar as it can be, considering his brother Arthur is the one picking him up and he's hardly seen the man since he moved out for university several years prior. He was shocked when he heard Arthur was even willing to take him in for the summer- Peter vaguely remembers being close with him when he was small, but after the unceremonious falling out between Arthur and their parents that relationship had fizzled out quickly. Even so, he was excited to see his youngest older brother. He loves his godparents in Sweden dearly and he's excited to move in with them once his paperwork is settled, but with all the chaos that's taken hold over the last few months it might be nice to see someone that he's actually related to and has fond memories of, no matter how old those memories may be. It had been nice seeing Alistair at the funeral (at least as nice as that sort of thing can be) and visiting Seamus in Ireland afterwards was kind of awkward at first, but they'd ended up having a good time together by the end of his visit. Hopefully this visit will be much the same.
When he finally squeezes his little frame through to the front of the crowd he's surprised to see that he doesn't have to search for his ride, there's a tall blonde man with golden hair and perhaps the friendliest smile Peter's ever seen holding a sign that has his name written on it in blue glitter pen. He's equally surprised when he gets closer and realizes that this man is not his brother- they may be estranged but he can tell that much. The electric blue eyes and prominent cowlick give it away immediately.
"Hey, you're Peter, right?" The man beams at him, sticking his hand out and reaching down to shake Peter's own with an unparalleled enthusiasm. "I'm Alfred! We met once but you were, like, super little so I don't expect you to remember."
"Oh, you're Arthur's boyfriend?" Peter asks with a look of realization overcoming his face. He relaxes almost entirely and finds it in him to smile back at Alfred with sincerity. The American is right, Peter doesn't remember meeting him, but he knows that Arthur has a boyfriend in the states that he ran away with some years ago. He's always suspected that little elopement was the cause of his brother being disowned but he never dared to bring up to either of his parents. And now he never could.
He pushes back that last thought and watches as Alfred beams impossibly brighter and lifts up his left hand, wiggling his ring finger and showing off the simple diamond-encrusted band that adorns it.
"Nope! I'm his fiancé now! Like, officially!" He all but shouts in excitement, turning more than a couple heads and causing Peter to giggle softly. "Doesn't that have a nice ring to it?"
"It certainly does! Congratulations." Peter agrees politely, looking from side to side and noticing that the man in question is neither in the car nor standing beside them. "Where is Arthur, though? Did he not come with you?"
"Oh, he did! He was worried about the crowd and we'd been waiting a while so he went to see if he could find you. I'm sure he'll be back in a sec." Alfred says, turning to pop the trunk of the car so that they can put Peter's luggage inside.
"I'd be surprised if he recognized me," Peter says.
"I'm not a baby anymore."
Alfred just laughs and nods, reaching over to help lug the heavy suitcase into the car. "Yeah, I can tell! Get ready to be surprised, though, because Artie is so stoked you're here. I promise."
Artie? Peter ponders in amusement, scrunching his nose lightly at the nickname while Alfred's back is turned to him. In true speak of the devil fashion he hears a familiar British lilt calling out from behind him seemingly as soon as the name crosses his mind, obscured by the noises of griping and shuffling that come with maneuvering the airport chaos but distinctly Arthur's nonetheless.
"I couldn't find him, do you think-" Arthur starts asking as he approaches the car before stopping when he sees the 12 year old boy standing in front of it. Alfred turns around upon hearing him and looks between the two brothers before stepping forward and clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder, exclaiming happily:
"Oh, hey babe! Look who I found!"
"Yes, I see that. Hello, Peter." Arthur says a bit stiffly, adjusting the crisp green tie tucked beneath his sweater vest before coming over and kneeling in front of his visitor with a warm smile. Despite the welcoming expression Peter can't help but notice his eyes- hard emerald ones that match his tie and are just as distant as Peter remembers. They look just like their father's.
"It's good to see you again," Arthur continues. "It's been too long."
"It has," Peter says with a frown. "You weren't at the funeral. Alistair and Sam went."
"But not the twins?" Arthur asks with a raised brow, trying not to frown at being called out so immediately and derailing the question as quickly as possible. He hadn't been looking forward to this conversation- one of many unpleasant ones to come, he's sure.
"No, Evelyn's busy with grad school and Seamus stopped coming by after you left." Peter explains rather bluntly, blinking at Arthur with soft crystal blue eyes that are just as expectant as Arthur remembers. They look just like their mother's.
"Oh…" Arthur trails off, his own eyes drifting to the side as he finds himself unable to hold that familiar gaze. He clears his throat and stands up promptly to counteract it. "Yes, I believe he mentioned that, actually. He said you visited Ireland, though? How was that?"
Peter wants to press harder on the matter. He knows what Arthur is doing. He's no stranger to the games adults play when they're avoiding hard questions and he can tell by the cinch in his smile that he might not even have it in him to address such things right now. In an act of mercy Peter lets it go. He nods yes and turns to get in the car when Alfred opens the door for him.
"It was fun. I got to see the English Market, and Seamus' girlfriend has a cat!" He recounts his adventure happily enough, smiling brightly as he remembers the delicious food and grand time he had back in Ireland.
"Oh, we have a cat too! He's back at the house, you'll meet him soon." Alfred is all too happy to chime in as he starts the car, everyone properly fastened and ready to begin their journey home. Or at least as close as it's going to get for Peter until he's a properly adopted Swedish citizen.
"Oh!" Peter says in delight. "That's lovely! Father never let me get a pet because he was allergic to animals, but I do so love the furry ones!"
Arthur rolls his eyes widely at that, crossing his arms and grumbling from his spot in the passenger seat.
"He wasn't allergic to all animals. Lying prick." Arthur grumbles this softly as he glares out the window, barely able to be heard. Peter does hear it of course, but when he looks up to say something he instead finds himself watching in the rearview as Alfred shoots Arthur a pointed look. It must have gotten the point across because Arthur does reign it in after that, but the atmosphere in the car is suddenly very tense. Perhaps it's best Peter says nothing.
After a few minutes of intense silence Alfred mumbles something about "turning on some tunes" and flips the radio to some catchy pop station. They listen to that for the rest of the ride, the car filled only with the thrumming of it's engine and Alfred's quiet warbling of whatever Taylor Swift song should dare to play.
The ride takes a lot longer than Peter had thought it would. Arthur never struck him as the kind of person to live out in the countryside, let alone the American countryside, but here he is. Seated the back of Alfred's Jeep and waiting for what seems like ages to finally pull into a driveway and stretch his legs properly. He's so jetlagged, and this time zone business has been quite hard on him.
Perhaps these are the reasons he finds himself drifting off about ten minutes in, forehead rested on the door and his stared fixed out the window towards the dense wood beginning to encompass them. It's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep, heavy eyes falling closed with exhaustion as his mind races with what's to come.
________
When Peter wakes up he's not in the backseat of a moving car like he expects but is instead lying comfortably in a large canopy bed. He's in an unfamiliar bedroom, a cute one that had blue wallpaper and hardwood floors but is very sparsely furnished. There's a window seat obscured by sheer white curtains that match the canopy lining and he can see his luggage sat neatly beside it. His slight disappointment at not seeing the outside of the house on the way in is replaced with sudden intrigue for his new surroundings. The young boy gets out of bed and makes his way to the bedroom door, opening it up and peeking out into the hallway curiously.
"Arthur?" He calls out in enquiry, though he's met only with an empty hall that seems impossibly long on either side of him. He swallows thickly. He likes to think himself a brave young lad, too old to be scared of something as trivial as the dark…
Even so, he finds himself having to gather his courage before walking briskly towards the dimly lit staircase to his left. He can hear voices drifting in from downstairs, hushed ones that are muffled but promising. Peter follows the sound, looking around the old house as he does and taking in the antiquity of it all.
"You should really be more gentle with him, babe. None of it's his fault." Peter can hear Alfred arguing on his behalf, the sound made less clear by the walls of the kitchen they seem to be tucked away inside of. Peter finds himself stopping by the doorway once he spots it, freezing just out of sight and stopping to eavesdrop against his better judgment
"Of course it's not his fault! Our whole family's a mess, Alfred. It's not just him." Arthur sounds exasperated, standing in the corner by the sink with crossed arms and a scowl on his face.
"That's a mean thing to say, he's not a mess. He's a sad kid."
"I didn't mean it like that!" Arthur snaps back defensively. The shouting makes his fiancé flinch, which in turn makes Arthur freeze in place before deflating with a heavy sigh. He walks over to the kitchen island Alfred is seated at and rests his elbows on the countertop to look at him properly, reaching out gently to caress Alfred's cheek and turn his gaze towards him.
"Look, darling, I'm sorry. I know your heart was in the right place, but I don't know why on Earth you thought this would be a good idea. We can't afford it. And I'm…" Arthur pulls his hand away to instead rest it flat on the marble, straightening up with a shake of his head. "I'm not properly equipped to explain any of it to him. I don't know how to talk to children, especially about all this nonsense."
"Sweetheart, literally nobody expects you to be good at it. It's a pretty impossible situation and… and, well, I'm sorry if you feel like I pushed it on you." Alfred reassures his partner as best he can, reaching out and squeezing one of his hands in support. "But he's here now so you just gotta do your best and take it in stride. You're Awesome at those two things!"
"Oh am I now?" Arthur asks with a chuckle and a raised brow. Alfred smiles at him earnestly in response.
"Mhm, you really are. You're awesome at a lot of things, and I just know you're gonna nut up and be an awesome big brother, too. You'll see."
Arthur smiles back softly and turns his hand in Alfred's so that he might lift the latter's up and place a tender kiss to the knuckles.
"Thank you, that's very sweet of you to say."
"Heh, yeah. I can be sweet when I wanna be." Alfred agrees cheekily, all too happy to accept the affection given. From his spot in the doorway Peter scrunches his nose at the suggestive tint to his future brother-in-law's tone and takes it as his cue to go back to bed. He steps away as quietly as possible to sneak back up the stairs, doing so with impressive efficiency.
It isn't until he steps on the tail of an unseen cat, one that's curled up in the middle of the stairs landing and blending into the cream colored carpet there, that his cover is officially blown. The Pet Semetary-esque yowl the cat lets out makes Peter squeak in shock, jumping nearly a foot In the air and clinging to the railing for dear life. The grownups in the kitchen quickly stop the kiss they were partaking in to instead rush out and see what all the fuss is about. What they find is their young visitor, standing on the stairs like a deer in the headlight as the cat darts through his legs and runs down the stairs towards Alfred with a fire under their ass.
""Ace!" Alfred exclaims in surprise as his pet jumps into his arms and crawls up his shoulders to perch there, hiding behind his head and hissing at Peter dramatically.
"Peter!" Arthur shouts at his brother in similar fashion, hurrying over to the foot of the stairs to look up at him. "Are you alright, lad?"
"I'm alright." Peter says, a bit shaken but answering honestly. "I'm sorry I hurt him, I swear I didn't know."
"You're fine lil' dude, he's just an old grumpy guy. He likes to get under people's feet; it ain't your fault." Alfred says with a laugh, reaching up to scratch behind Ace's ears affectionately. He meows as though in disapproval of his owner's words but leans into the petting rather heavily.
"I still didn't mean it," Peter mumbles softly, looking at the ground and fiddling with his thumbs as he turns to properly face the others. He's talking about both the cat and the eavesdropping this time, but they couldn't possibly know that. The guilt in his face looks largely disproportionate because of it.
Arthur softens exponentially when he sees this in a way he hadn't been sure he'd be able to. The nervous posture and anxious fidgeting makes his heart ache, because he knows the youngest member of his family is waiting to be reprimanded just as he had been growing up. Arthur would like to dismiss that fear as quickly as possible, so he waves Peter down with a gentle poise and offers him the same tired smile as he did earlier. He looks a lot more present for it this time around and that alone does indeed ease Peter's anxieties, if only a little. He steps downstairs gingerly, staring at the pathway the entire way down until he's standing in the foyer beside Arthur.
"You're quite alright, accidents happen. Since you're up why don't we get you some supper; I'm sure you're famished from your flight." Arthur offers kindly, placing a hand on Peter's shoulders to direct him back towards the kitchen he'd just been peeping into.
"We still have to go to the store," Alfred reminds him with a slight frown. "I got the fridge working today but I didn't have time to run out before Pete got in."
Arthur looks over at Alfred in shock that this is the first he's hearing of this and opens his mouth to ask why on Earth he hadn't mentioned this little snag earlier, only to remember that Peter is standing right there and he had just recently made a promise to be gentler. After taking a deep breath to compose himself he turns back towards Peter with a tight smile.
"Right then. How does Pizza sound?"
The rest of the evening was rather uneventful after supper arrived. Peter learned over pizza that Arthur is a gardener now- he used to run a floral shop but lately he's been taking on bigger projects. The reason they were even able to afford such a fancy apartment in the first place is because he offered to redo the landscaping in exchange for a discount on the rent. It was surprisingly interesting to hear what Arthur's been up to the last few years. Peter got to hear the story of how he proposed to Alfred and learned all about what it was like moving to America after living in Europe his entire life. He also got to hear stories from Alfred's college days, stories which largely revolved around Peter's god-uncle Mathias being his roommate at the time. The conversation was kept pretty light to the point that Peter couldn't shake the feeling they were dancing around something the entire time, but overall it was nice. It reassured him in some small way that the man he's staying with is still his brother, and as silly as it may sound he had been worried about their relationship being too mangled to salvage. It's good to know he was wrong.
Once they're finished eating Peter offers to help clean up in spite of how little he wants to; thankfully Alfred shoos him away with a hearty laugh and an affectionate ruffle to his hair, telling him it's well past his bedtime anyways. Arthur offers to tuck him in, but Peter's not sure they're there yet. Besides, he's a big boy, far too mature for things like that. He tries not to let Arthur see the way he darts through the dark parts of the hallway. Returning to his room offers some solace, the thin curtains and raised blinds allow the moonlight to spill in freely and illuminate every crevice with a soft, welcoming glow.
He makes his way to his suitcase in hopes of digging out a fresh set of pajamas before he slips back into bed. When he gets there he's compelled to glance towards the window seat, where he can see something propped on the pillow looking right at him. He stills all at once, overcome with a sudden uneasy feeling. It's possible he'd missed that strange shadow when he awoke earlier, but he had thought he'd inspected the room pretty thoroughly at the time. It takes everything in him to creep towards the curtain and pull it back with one quick yank.
What Peter sees staring at him stuns him completely. He isn't sure if it's better or worse than what he expected, but it's certainly… Well, it's something.
To put it plainly, it's a doll. The strange part is how much it looks exactly like him. That's not him being narcissistic, either. Its hair is the same exact color, albeit made of yarn, and its clothes look exactly like an outfit Peter would wear all the way down to the kitschy sailor hat and blue schoolboy shorts. It even has the same pattern of freckles splattered meticulously over its felt cheeks, something Peter rushes over to the vanity mirror to double-check in quiet awe. The only thing that isn't 100% accurate are the eyes. Instead of gentle cerulean orbs the doll is encrusted with pitch-black buttons that seem to bore into him all the same.
Maybe he will ask Arthur to tuck him in, afterall.