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The first thing that Arthur knew was his mate’s voice, speaking softly as he jostled Arthur back and forth. Instead of replying, Arthur simply ignored him, keeping his eyes shut as he was shaken about.
“C’mon Artie, get up.” Alfred cooed. “I wanna show you something.”
“Sod off.” Arthur grumbled. “It’s too early.”
“It’s only six in the morning.” Alfred laughed quietly. “Please, Artie? It’s worth it, I promise.”
“There’s nothing worth getting up early on a Saturday.” Arthur replied, ducking his head under the pillow in an effort to block out Alfred’s voice. Of course, his mate instantly caught on; Alfred seized the cushion and tugged it away from Arthur, proceeding to hit his mate with it in earnest.
“C’mon, get up!”
“You’re as bad as Peter.” Arthur mumbled, referring to their three year old son, who was sleeping down the hall.
“I carried him around for nine months; he damn well better have some of my qualities.” Alfred cheerfully replied. “Get up before I have to drag you out of bed.”
Arthur made no attempt to move, prompting Alfred to yank the covers away from him.
“Oi!”
“C’mon Artie, the faster you come look at this, the faster I’ll let you go back to bed.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Arthur replied, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. “Why are you even up this early? You like sleeping.”
“Woke up, couldn’t fall back asleep.” Alfred said, hopping off the bed. “Now, come over here and look out the window with me.”
“The sun hasn’t even risen yet. What on Earth can you possibly see out there?”
“Get over here.”
With a groan, Arthur reluctantly pulled himself away from the bed, shuffling over to Alfred, his eyes half-open. “It’s pitch black outside, what do you want me to see?”
“Just look.”
Arthur grudgingly complied with Alfred’s request in the form of slowly pulling the curtains back. At first, nothing seemed out of place; the street seemed just as ordinary as ever, if not a tad more quiet than he was used to. It took a few moments for his brain to register that fact that was a peculiar substance upon the street, if that was a proper way to phrase it.
“Snow.” Arthur said, his voice dropping to an amazed whisper. “A real, proper, snowfall.”
“Best one we’ve had all year.” Alfred replied, wrapping his arms around his mate’s waist. “Isn’t it amazing?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you, Artie.” Alfred said, pressing his lips to Arthur’s neck, smirking as his mate’s face began to heat up. “We’ve been married for five years and that line still gets you every time.”
“Well, I can’t exactly help it.” Arthur replied, sounding flustered. “You’re still quite a charmer.”
“Am I now?” Alfred laughed. “Well, how about this line? Your face is significantly better than your cooking.”
“I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”
“Your face is nice.”
“Thank you. Now, come back to bed with me.” Arthur said, looking up to meet Alfred’s loving gaze.
“Aw.” Alfred pouted. “Can’t we stay here and watch the snowfall for a little longer?”
“Alfred, I’m freezing.”
“I’ll get a blanket!”
Protesting was no use; Alfred had already raced off the snatch the covers from their bed, leaving Arthur to continue his shivering beside the window. After a moment, his mate returned, wrapping the blanket around the two of them.
“Now, all we need is some coffee and this would be perfect.”
“Absolutely not.” Arthur said, making a face.
“Hot chocolate.”
“That’s a much better idea.”
“Come on, Artie.” Alfred laughed. “You’re going to have to like it eventually; it’s practically a staple of the American diet. It’s been over a decade since you moved here, you know.”
“I refuse to let go of my English traditions.” Arthur said, allowing Alfred to pull him close. “I’ll stick with my tea and hot chocolate, thank you very much.”
“And your charcoal scones?”
“Yes, and my- oi!”
Alfred burst into laughter again, as Arthur pushed him away, pretending to look offended, but quickly returning to his mate’s warm embrace as the cold air washed over him. “If we’re making fun of each other’s dietary habits, shall I bring up your disastrous attempts to make me tea?”
“Don’t you dare.” Alfred replied, feigning an horrified tone.
“Honestly Alfred, how did you mix up salt and sugar?” Arthur asked.
“It was a long day and I may have grabbed the first grainy white thing I saw. Didn’t notice the difference until you spewed tea all over the table. Peter got a kick out of that.”
“That he did.” Arthur agreed. “Speaking of white things, Peter’s certainly going to kick out of this weather.”
“And speaking of Peter, I wonder if he’s awake right now.” Alfred said, turning his head towards the door. “I know he’s usually asleep, but maybe-”
“Alfred, let him sleep.” Arthur said. However, by the time the words had left his mouth, Alfred was already moving towards the door. Of course, Arthur made no attempt to move; trying to convince Alfred to not see Peter was about as productive as trying to turn a slice of toast back into bread. A few minutes later, Alfred returned with their son, who was asleep in his arms.
“Isn’t he adorable?” Alfred whispered as Arthur re-wrapped the blanket around their shoulders. “That’s you coming out in him, I swear.”
“He’s going to be awfully cranky when he wakes up, you know.” Arthur said, looking amused by Alfred’s cooing over Peter.
“Eh, it’s worth it.” Alfred said. “He’s the cutest thing in the entire world.”
Arthur wasn’t the type to gush over anything like Alfred did, but he wouldn’t hesitate to admit that Peter was certainly an adorable child. (And no, it was not because he was one of Peter’s dads, Peter was incredibly cute regardless.) He was the couple’s only son and their pride and joy, even though Peter’s current accomplishments mostly consisted of things like “went a whole day without crying” and “didn’t throw a fit at naptime”.
Their son had a tendency to be a bit of a handful, but it seemed to run in Alfred’s side of the family, so perhaps it wasn’t Peter’s fault. Alfred had apparently been just as bad when he was younger, if not worse, according to his parents, who also happened to adore Peter. Purely coincidental.
Thanks to Alfred’s constant cooing and Arthur’s continued attempts to shush him, their son began to stir a few moments later. Peter opened his eyes, revealing sleepy blue irises as he stared at Alfred, apparently confused as to why he wasn’t in his room.
“Dad..dy?”
“Good morning, Peter!” Alfred replied with a level of enthusiasm that made Arthur and Peter both wince. “How did you sleep?”
Peter furrowed his eyebrows for a moment before he responded. “Tired.”
“That’s not good! Did someone wake up too early?”
“I think the question should be ‘did someone wake you up too early?’” Arthur chimed in, laughing as he watched Peter’s eyes light up the moment he had begun to speak.
“Quiet Arthur, we’re bonding.” Alfred replied. “Okay-”
“Daddy!” Peter exclaimed, pointing a finger at Alfred. “Too loud!”
Alfred raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Me? Too loud? You must be joking.”
“No.” Peter replied, meeting Alfred’s incredulous expression with a flat stare. “Papa time.”
“I see how it is.” Alfred said, handing the toddler over to Alfred. “Here you go Peter, it’s Papa time.”
“I like Papa time.” Peter said, snuggling into Arthur’s embrace.
“I like Papa time too.” Alfred said, winking at Arthur, who began to sputter. “He doesn’t like it when I say that in front of you though.”
“He is a child.” Arthur said, shooting a half-hearted attempt at a glare at his mate, although his red face certainly ruined the effect.
“Eh, he doesn’t understand what we’re talking about anyway. Right, Peter?”
“Huh?” Peter replied, sounding like he was falling back asleep.
“Exactly. Don’t worry, Artie, Peter will remain pure for a little longer.”
“Please don’t corrupt our child.”
“It’s too late for that, babe. You ready for a fun filled day, Peter? It snowed last night!”
Peter began to shift in Arthur’s arms in an apparent response to Alfred. “Snow?” he asked, picking his head up to look at Alfred, then towards the window. “SNOW!” he suddenly screeched, nearly causing Arthur to drop him in surprise. “Down, Papa!” Peter yelled, beginning to thrash around in Arthur’s arms.
“Okay, okay, down you go.” Arthur said, lowering Peter to the ground, wincing at his volume. The moment Arthur released him, Peter dashed towards the window, then looking back at his parents as he pointed towards the snow. “Snow!’ he yelled again, excitement clearly displayed on his formerly sleepy expression.
“Yes darling, there’s snow on the ground.” Arthur said, lowering himself until he was eye level with Peter. “Do you want to play in the snow?”
“Yeah!”
“Hold your horses you two.” Alfred said, scooping Peter back up into his arms, despite Peter’s immediate protests. “We have to eat first. Peter, do you want some snowman pancakes?”
“Whipped cream!”
“We can put whipped cream on them!”
“Only whipped cream!”
“You can’t have whipped cream for breakfast!” Alfred said. “You sure you don’t want pancakes? They’re really good pancakes.”
Peter pondered for a moment. “Chocolate chips?”
“He’s clearly your child.” Arthur said, earning a mock glare from Alfred, who was trying his best to appear serious, but failing miserably.
In the end, the promise of hot chocolate was enough to quell Peter’s requests for whipped cream and the morning passed without incident, although Peter had been glued to the window for the entirety of breakfast, completely transfixed by the falling snow, which had slowed to a gentle flurry. After the meal, it was another twenty minutes of trying to get Peter dressed in his winter apparel (“Yes Peter, you need to wear the gloves, please stop taking them off- no, keep your hat on too!”) before the trio finally made their way outside to the front yard.
In no time at all, the perfectly even snowfall that covered the lawn was quickly destroyed by Peter, who had charged right into it and promptly falling down as he did so. However, he simply giggled and continued his activities, a wide grin on his face.
“Ah, youth.” Alfred sighed, leaning into Arthur. “Makes me wonder what would happen if there was more of him.”
“Are you referring to clones or him having other siblings?” Arthur asked.
“Him having other siblings, but cloning him could be fun too. Just think of it Artie, we could have ten Peters.”
“You’re not allowed to clone our child.” Arthur said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
“You’re no fun.” Alfred said, a smile on his face, but it quickly turned into disgust when he saw the drink in Arthur’s hand. “I assume you’re still enjoying that sugary disaster? You know, that’s definitely a crime against hot chocolate.”
Alfred was a huge fan of the beverage, but the way Arthur preferred it had so much sugar, even Alfred couldn’t tolerate it. But to Arthur, who had grown up on chocolate that was nearly pure sugar, it tasted perfectly fine.
Thankfully for his mate, Peter shared Alfred’s tastes in hot chocolate.
“Papa! Daddy!” Peter called. “Come here!’
The pair glanced at each out simultaneously, when smiled.
“Let’s go see what our adorable little angel requires of us.” Alfred said, a smile on his face.
“That almost sounds sarcastic.”
“Come on!” Peter yelled. “Let’s bury Papa!”
“What?”
“Please don’t bury my face.” Arthur said as Alfred dumped another clump of snow on his chest.
“Definitely not. Wouldn’t want to cover up such a work of art.” Alfred replied with a grin.
“Oh, hush.”
Peter, completely oblivious to the situation, did what Arthur had requested that the two of them not to do: dump snow on his face. Arthur sputtered, causing the toddler to giggle. “Peter!”
The toddler continued to laugh, although he made no move to do it again. Alfred simply dumped another pile of snow on Arthur’s legs, looking highly amused.
“Don’t get any ideas.” Arthur warned.
“Relax, I got the message.” Alfred chuckled. “Peter, come pack down the snow for me while I bury Papa.”
“Okay!”
“You ready to transform into a snowman, Artie?” Alfred teased as Peter began smashing the snow down with a tad more force than Arthur would have liked.
“Am I really a snowman if I’m laying down like this?”
“Shush, we’re humoring Peter.”
It seemed that they had been outside for the entire day, but it was still mid afternoon when Peter began to whine, the excitement apparently beginning to wear off. It took a remarkable lack of effort to pull him away from his latest artistic creation (a lump of snow) and take him inside; he was already nodding off as the two of them pulled off his various items of winter clothing.
His parents weren’t faring any better; they didn’t have the exuberance of youth on their side, nor was Peter responsible for managing a small child. Alfred half-heartedly suggested that they all pass out on the couch, but after Arthur recently pointed out that there wasn’t enough room, the pair made their way upstairs with Peter sleeping in Alfred’s arms.
However, sleep didn’t come as easily as it did for Peter; the pair was used to be being up and about at that time of day. Alfred settled for snuggling up to Arthur, Peter still firmly held in his arms. Arthur placed a kiss to Alfred’s forehead, smiling as Alfred hummed contently.
“You have fun?” Alfred asked, keeping his voice low to avoid waking the toddler.
“Yes.” Arthur replied. Looking down at the toddler, his smile grew. “Peter seems like he had fun.”
“Yeah, he did.” Alfred said, doing the same. “Little guy’s finally tuckered out though. Man, I wonder how exhausted we would be if we had more kids.”
Arthur thought back to the conversation that they had had that morning, which had gone in a similar manner. There was no way Alfred wasn’t hinting at something, and it wasn’t hard to guess what that something was.
Another child… Arthur hadn’t considered the possibility of having another kid since Peter had been born, but now, it didn’t seem like a horrible idea. Actually, it seemed like a great idea. After all, Peter was three, it was the perfect time for him to have a sibling.
“Artie?”
Arthur snapped back to reality. “Hmm?”
“You doing okay? You just completely zoned out there for a second.”
“Just thinking, that’s all.” Arthur said, pressing his lips to Alfred’s check. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Alfred replied with a smile. “What were you thinking about?”
“I’ll tell you later.” If they were going to have a discussion about having another kid, it was definitely not something he wanted to talk about while the two of them were barely awake. After all, they had technically waited three years already, he could wait a little while longer.
If Alfred was more awake, he probably would have pressed the issue, but all he did was yawn. “Okay. Goodnight, Arthur. I love you.”
“I love you too. Sleep well.” Arthur paused. “And it’s still afternoon, you know.”
“Quiet, I’m sleeping.”