These Arms Of Mine - old man!usuk drabble
Notes: I wanted this to be longer and less fluffy but it just sort of happened. I like this AU idea I have for this and might write more (that isn’t quite as sickeningly fluffy). I just wanted to post this before I go out. Enjoy?
They’d been together for some forty six years now. Their bones were old and their hair-lines receding; Alfred had been the one that had lost the most hair, much to his dismay. It was when he hit fifty that it had started to happen. He wasn’t bald, by any means but his hair was certainly thinner than it had been in his youth. Arthur’s hair had lost its thickness as well, but had only made his hair more tameable. It was somewhat of a good thing in Arthur’s opinion.
Alfred was still beautiful, though, all white teeth and sky-blue eyes. Arthur was just in love as he had been when they first kissed under the midnight sky. But that was a long, long time ago and there had been plenty of kisses since then that had made Arthur fall only further under Alfred’s spell. Alfred reassures him everyday by reminding him that he loves him with quick kisses and the way that he smiles, like sunshine.
The American was in the garden, playing with the dog (Goldie – Alfred’s name choice, not Arthur’s) and his great-nephew and niece. They’re Matthew’s daughter’s kids and they’re always ‘round at Papa Al’s house. Arthur rarely gets involved in playing Football (or Soccer as Alfred insists even after all of these years) but he always tries his best to make cookies for them when they visit. Even if the kids don’t eat them, Alfred will.
“Are you gonna’ play, sweetheart?”
Arthur looked up from his mug, his seat on the porch and shook his head.
“No, no… far too old for such nonsense,” he took a disdainful sip of tea, just to prove how indifferent he was about playing some child’s game. Alfred just grinned and ran over (as fast as he could with old bones) and snatched Arthur’s mug away from him, setting it down on the table.
“Come on, we’re gonna’ teach the kids how to swing!”
“Swing…?” Arthur made a face, being hauled up from his seat by Alfred. “What the devil are you talking about?”
“Dancing,” Alfred winked, leading Arthur (who was shakier on his legs than his partner) down on to the grass.
“I can’t dance anymore,” the Englishman said haughtily but yet he still let Alfred pull him close. “Alfred, stop this at once,” he continued as Alfred began to sway from side to side with some enthusiasm, one arm wrapped around Arthur’s waist as the other held his adjacent hand.
“He loves it really,” Alfred winked at the small curly-haired children who giggled. “Don’t cha’ Uncle Artie?”
“You’re a moron.”
“These arms of mine,” Alfred crooned, “They are wanting, wanting to hold you.” Alfred had always been a terrible singer.
“Oh, Alfred, please do be-”
“And if you let them hold you,” he wasn’t going to be silenced by his partner’s protests, “Oh how grateful I will be.” Alfred was looking at him in such a way, with such love, such affection. Arthur’s expression began to crumble as his heart melted.
The children wailed as they started to kiss.