Fiona (blood_winged) wrote in usxuk,

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Because of Him

Title: Because of Him
Genre: General
Pairing: USxUK
Rating/Warnings: G. Slight angst.
Summary: 500 word flashfic to freshen my mind a little. Alfred's thoughts on Arthur's drinking habits.

Sometimes Alfred likes it when Arthur gets drunk, because that’s the only time that he ever really needs him.

Arthur will lean heavily against him, cling to his arm and slur vague insults in a strong cockney accent that Alfred can’t understand anymore. Usually, he’ll fall, tripping over some invisible crack in the pavement and Alfred will scoop him up into his arms, trying to ignore the smell of whiskey so strong that it burns the inside of his nose and the disgruntled protests that never last long once Arthur realises that being carried is far easier than walking. Because Arthur loses a lot of his pride when he’s drunk, but he is still a very stubborn man.

He’ll try to put Arthur down as he gets to the door, but Arthur won’t co-operate, and he’ll cling to Alfred and mumble and complain bitterly about ungrateful little upstarts and their fights for independence. He’ll do this not really realising that Alfred is there, as if he thinks that Alfred is somebody else. This is what Alfred tells himself as he heaves the inebriated man into the house and watches him fall on the hallway carpet, asleep before he hits the floor. Alfred will always sigh, then, and roll the man over, and pick him up. It would be too dangerous to try and take him upstairs, he tells himself each time, taking the older man into the front room and putting him down on the sofa.

Alfred always keeps a blanket and a pillow in the cupboard under the stairs for times like this. Arthur doesn’t know that they’re there, and he goes to get them now, sliding the pillow beneath Arthur’s head. It takes effort to get his jacket off him, because even in his sleep he’s a bloody obstinate sod and Alfred utters his fair share of curses under his breath as he struggles. Pulling his shoes and socks off is less difficult, and Arthur will always make a little sound when Alfred tugs his trousers down his legs. He folds everything neatly and puts it over the back of a chair, and covers Arthur with the blanket. Arthur is sleeping that strange, fitful sleep of the intoxicated and Alfred knows that he needs to be very quiet, since any small noise could wake him.

Straightening his glasses, he sits on the floor beside Arthur and watches the faint twitches flickering over his face. He worries about Arthur, and not because he is a hero and therefore must, but because he loves Arthur with every fibre of his being, and wants to worry about him. He worries that Arthur drinks too much, and wonders why he drinks, because Arthur won’t tell him when he asks, he’ll just look at Alfred under his eyelashes and prod his chest, or try to, because he usually misses, and he’ll mutter something incomprehensible and turn back to his whiskey.

Sitting in the dim light, Alfred sometimes wonders if it’s because of him.

Tags: fanfiction
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