Jul. 10th, 2011 03:48 am
[Fic] Summer Camp: Holding Out - Day 9
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fivedayslaterTitle: Holding Out - Part 7: Gardening
Characters: America, England, mentions of Hungary and Austria.
Rating/Warnings: PG13, Sorta X-men-universe crossoverish kinda sorta except I call 'mutants' 'supers' so maybe The Incredibles crossoverish kinda sorta? Point is, some people have superpowers. And it's a pseudo-police state.
Summary: Alfred and Arthur go shopping for some gardening supplies. What could possibly go wrong?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Arthur had a magnificent garden in the backyard. It had every kind of flower Alfred had ever seen as well as several that he hadn’t contained within it. It was Arthur’s pride and joy, and he took immense pleasure in working on the garden himself. Elizaveta, Roderich, and Alfred helped him from time to time, but Arthur liked to do most of the garden work himself and leave the things like cooking, cleaning, and the rest of the yard work to them.
Arthur loved his garden, it was practically his baby, and his baby could only have the best materials available to him. This involved going to all sorts of special garden warehouse places for the sole purpose of looking for specific soil or fertilizer or a gardening tool or whatever. For some reason, Alfred was always coerced into coming along as well.
“Why am I here again?” Alfred asked as he and Arthur were led through the topsoil warehouse full of huge shelves with nothing but dirt on them.
“Because I need someone to carry the soil once I pick it out,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “Obviously. It’s not like you even know the difference between screened topsoil and unscreened topsoil. What use would you be in picking it out?”
“Quite right Mr. Kirkland,” the salesman guiding them agreed.
Alfred huffed as he followed them, looking at bag of dirt after bag of dirt. In the end it was just dirt, why Arthur and this guy needed to talk about which dirty was dirtier or why it even mattered was a mystery to him.
“You should get servants for this kind of thing,” Alfred muttered at some point. Arthur had him holding three different bags of soil and he was still looking for more.
“Roderich and Elizaveta are taking care of things at the house,” he waved the issue away as the salesman went off the fetch yet another bag of dirt, “Besides, I know more about gardening then them. It would be silly to send them out when they’d get the wrong thing in the end.”
“Then why don’t you hire a gardener?” he shrugged as best as he could while holding three bags of soil, “I mean, it’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“I like working in my garden. I don’t need a gardener.”
“Well what about other servants? Like, how about a chef? Not that Elizaveta is bad, but she also does a lot of the cleaning, and it’d make sense for someone who specializes in food to deal with the food.”
“I don’t need a chef,” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, “Elizaveta has never complained about cooking before, and in turn, no one has complained about her food.”
“How about more maids? Or more butlers?” Alfred shifted the bags in his arms, “I mean, it’s a really big mansion, and only the four of us live there and run it. You can afford more help, why don’t you have it?”
Arthur stiffened, “I don’t need more help, Alfred. Elizaveta and Roderich have proven more than capable of taken care of the house by themselves over the past ten years. With the addition of you to help them from time to time, that's more than enough.”
“Yeah, but,” he shifted again, “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Arthur’s mouth dropped open as he fumbled for an answer. Luckily he was saved by the return of the salesman with three new types of soil for him to pick, distracting Arthur and boring Alfred, who set down the bags in his arms and began to wander about the warehouse.
The voices had become a distinct mumble by the time he heard the creaking. It was a sharp sound, but barely noticeable unless you weren’t bothering to listen to anything else. Alfred whipped his head around to look for the source of the noise and his eyes landed on the tall, metal shelves that reached from floor to ceiling that were currently falling on Arthur and the salesman.
“Arthur!” he shouted as he raced back towards them, “Look out!”
Arthur’s face went pale as he looked up to see the falling shelf. He backed away as far as he could, back hitting the adjacent shelf as the salesman bolted down the aisle away from him. The falling shelf hit the one behind Arthur, causing that to fall as well, as Alfred skidded to a stop right next to him.
“Alfred what are you doing?” Arthur shouted at him.
Alfred ignored him and put his hands up to catch the falling shelf to prevent it from crushing them. Once he got it balanced enough to be supported with just one hand, he reached out and grabbed onto the second shelf to stop that one from falling anymore.
“A-Arthur,” he said, panting, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Alfred glanced down and saw Arthur on the ground, looking up at him with a strange look in his eyes, “What about you?”
“These are k-kinda heavy,” he admitted, “D-don’t know how much longer…”
“That’s alright. You’re doing good Alfred. Keep it up,” he smiled at him, “Can you stand that one in your right hand up?”
Alfred concentrated and did as he suggested, “Like that?”
“Yes, good. Now see if you can rest the other one on it so it doesn’t fall.”
He nodded as he slowly retracted his right hand from the one shelf to use it to lift up the other one, just a bit, until it caught onto it. Alfred relaxed his grip to test if the shelf would move again, and when it didn’t, he retracted his hands completely.
“Very good,” Arthur reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder as he stood up, ducking his head so it didn’t bump into the shelf, “Good job Alfred. Now let’s get out of here.”
Alfred let himself be led by Arthur out from under the fallen shelf and to the front of the warehouse where the salesman was waiting, frantic about the faulty shelves and the lost wares. He apologized profusely to Arthur, who brushed it off as nothing and informed him that he would not be making any purchases today before leading Alfred out of the warehouse, hand never leaving his shoulder.
They ended up back in the garden later that day despite their inability to obtain soil, Arthur replanting some roses while Alfred observed from a nearby bench. He kicked his feet uselessly at the grass, staring at a ladybug that was crawling all over a nearby stone fountain.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t get your dirt,” he said after a while.
Arthur looked up from his plants, “What?”
“Your soil,” he corrected, “I’m sorry you couldn’t get any.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Arthur waved his spade at him before digging it into the ground again; “You didn’t push the shelf down… did you?”
“No!” Alfred crossed his arms and frowned at him, “But I couldn’t stop it in time so-”
“You stopped it before it hit me,” he sighed as he put his hands on his knees and smiled at Alfred. Not just any smile, but the special smile that Alfred had only seen occasionally, when Arthur was really, truly happy. Now that he thought about it, he usually saw it in the garden, “I’d say that’s stopping it in time.”
“Well, yeah, I guess…”
“Thank you,” Alfred’s eyes went wide as Arthur blushed and looked away, smile still on his face, “for saving me. I’m not sure if I got the chance before, so…”
“You’re welcome,” Alfred looked away and felt his face heat up as well, “I mean, you would have done the same for me, right?”
“I doubt it would have had the same results, if you haven’t noticed, I can’t lift as much as you, but… yes, I’d have saved you too, if that’s what you mean.”
An awkward silence fell between them as Arthur went back to his roses and Alfred looked everywhere that wasn’t him. Eventually he settled for lying down on the bench, watching the clouds, listening to the birds and bugs and Arthur in the garden.
Relaxing in this garden, saving people, Arthur’s gratitude, they were all things he could get very used to.
Part 8
Characters: America, England, mentions of Hungary and Austria.
Rating/Warnings: PG13, Sorta X-men-universe crossoverish kinda sorta except I call 'mutants' 'supers' so maybe The Incredibles crossoverish kinda sorta? Point is, some people have superpowers. And it's a pseudo-police state.
Summary: Alfred and Arthur go shopping for some gardening supplies. What could possibly go wrong?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Arthur had a magnificent garden in the backyard. It had every kind of flower Alfred had ever seen as well as several that he hadn’t contained within it. It was Arthur’s pride and joy, and he took immense pleasure in working on the garden himself. Elizaveta, Roderich, and Alfred helped him from time to time, but Arthur liked to do most of the garden work himself and leave the things like cooking, cleaning, and the rest of the yard work to them.
Arthur loved his garden, it was practically his baby, and his baby could only have the best materials available to him. This involved going to all sorts of special garden warehouse places for the sole purpose of looking for specific soil or fertilizer or a gardening tool or whatever. For some reason, Alfred was always coerced into coming along as well.
“Why am I here again?” Alfred asked as he and Arthur were led through the topsoil warehouse full of huge shelves with nothing but dirt on them.
“Because I need someone to carry the soil once I pick it out,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “Obviously. It’s not like you even know the difference between screened topsoil and unscreened topsoil. What use would you be in picking it out?”
“Quite right Mr. Kirkland,” the salesman guiding them agreed.
Alfred huffed as he followed them, looking at bag of dirt after bag of dirt. In the end it was just dirt, why Arthur and this guy needed to talk about which dirty was dirtier or why it even mattered was a mystery to him.
“You should get servants for this kind of thing,” Alfred muttered at some point. Arthur had him holding three different bags of soil and he was still looking for more.
“Roderich and Elizaveta are taking care of things at the house,” he waved the issue away as the salesman went off the fetch yet another bag of dirt, “Besides, I know more about gardening then them. It would be silly to send them out when they’d get the wrong thing in the end.”
“Then why don’t you hire a gardener?” he shrugged as best as he could while holding three bags of soil, “I mean, it’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“I like working in my garden. I don’t need a gardener.”
“Well what about other servants? Like, how about a chef? Not that Elizaveta is bad, but she also does a lot of the cleaning, and it’d make sense for someone who specializes in food to deal with the food.”
“I don’t need a chef,” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest, “Elizaveta has never complained about cooking before, and in turn, no one has complained about her food.”
“How about more maids? Or more butlers?” Alfred shifted the bags in his arms, “I mean, it’s a really big mansion, and only the four of us live there and run it. You can afford more help, why don’t you have it?”
Arthur stiffened, “I don’t need more help, Alfred. Elizaveta and Roderich have proven more than capable of taken care of the house by themselves over the past ten years. With the addition of you to help them from time to time, that's more than enough.”
“Yeah, but,” he shifted again, “Don’t you ever get lonely?”
Arthur’s mouth dropped open as he fumbled for an answer. Luckily he was saved by the return of the salesman with three new types of soil for him to pick, distracting Arthur and boring Alfred, who set down the bags in his arms and began to wander about the warehouse.
The voices had become a distinct mumble by the time he heard the creaking. It was a sharp sound, but barely noticeable unless you weren’t bothering to listen to anything else. Alfred whipped his head around to look for the source of the noise and his eyes landed on the tall, metal shelves that reached from floor to ceiling that were currently falling on Arthur and the salesman.
“Arthur!” he shouted as he raced back towards them, “Look out!”
Arthur’s face went pale as he looked up to see the falling shelf. He backed away as far as he could, back hitting the adjacent shelf as the salesman bolted down the aisle away from him. The falling shelf hit the one behind Arthur, causing that to fall as well, as Alfred skidded to a stop right next to him.
“Alfred what are you doing?” Arthur shouted at him.
Alfred ignored him and put his hands up to catch the falling shelf to prevent it from crushing them. Once he got it balanced enough to be supported with just one hand, he reached out and grabbed onto the second shelf to stop that one from falling anymore.
“A-Arthur,” he said, panting, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes I’m fine,” Alfred glanced down and saw Arthur on the ground, looking up at him with a strange look in his eyes, “What about you?”
“These are k-kinda heavy,” he admitted, “D-don’t know how much longer…”
“That’s alright. You’re doing good Alfred. Keep it up,” he smiled at him, “Can you stand that one in your right hand up?”
Alfred concentrated and did as he suggested, “Like that?”
“Yes, good. Now see if you can rest the other one on it so it doesn’t fall.”
He nodded as he slowly retracted his right hand from the one shelf to use it to lift up the other one, just a bit, until it caught onto it. Alfred relaxed his grip to test if the shelf would move again, and when it didn’t, he retracted his hands completely.
“Very good,” Arthur reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder as he stood up, ducking his head so it didn’t bump into the shelf, “Good job Alfred. Now let’s get out of here.”
Alfred let himself be led by Arthur out from under the fallen shelf and to the front of the warehouse where the salesman was waiting, frantic about the faulty shelves and the lost wares. He apologized profusely to Arthur, who brushed it off as nothing and informed him that he would not be making any purchases today before leading Alfred out of the warehouse, hand never leaving his shoulder.
They ended up back in the garden later that day despite their inability to obtain soil, Arthur replanting some roses while Alfred observed from a nearby bench. He kicked his feet uselessly at the grass, staring at a ladybug that was crawling all over a nearby stone fountain.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t get your dirt,” he said after a while.
Arthur looked up from his plants, “What?”
“Your soil,” he corrected, “I’m sorry you couldn’t get any.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Arthur waved his spade at him before digging it into the ground again; “You didn’t push the shelf down… did you?”
“No!” Alfred crossed his arms and frowned at him, “But I couldn’t stop it in time so-”
“You stopped it before it hit me,” he sighed as he put his hands on his knees and smiled at Alfred. Not just any smile, but the special smile that Alfred had only seen occasionally, when Arthur was really, truly happy. Now that he thought about it, he usually saw it in the garden, “I’d say that’s stopping it in time.”
“Well, yeah, I guess…”
“Thank you,” Alfred’s eyes went wide as Arthur blushed and looked away, smile still on his face, “for saving me. I’m not sure if I got the chance before, so…”
“You’re welcome,” Alfred looked away and felt his face heat up as well, “I mean, you would have done the same for me, right?”
“I doubt it would have had the same results, if you haven’t noticed, I can’t lift as much as you, but… yes, I’d have saved you too, if that’s what you mean.”
An awkward silence fell between them as Arthur went back to his roses and Alfred looked everywhere that wasn’t him. Eventually he settled for lying down on the bench, watching the clouds, listening to the birds and bugs and Arthur in the garden.
Relaxing in this garden, saving people, Arthur’s gratitude, they were all things he could get very used to.
Part 8