Icannotspelldefinnnately - I Like Men Like Coffee And Women Like Tea

Number 16 for Alfred plz

Short, contemporary set fic. Alfred wakes from a nightmare and Matt knows what to say. On ao3 here. From prompt 16. “Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?”

21st Century, Ottawa.

Mathew's bedroom was still and dark when he woke, and he stared at the dim glow filtering through the blinds. The light of the streetlamps was tinted blue in the storm, and he wondered why he'd woken. Kuma was still dead asleep on his memory foam sheepskin bed just next to the vent. If there'd been any intrusion in his space, he'd have been up, hackles raised and howling. Oh. He had to piss. Fuck, he must still be drunk. Groaning and cursing himself for not taking a pit stop when he and Alfred had finally put the beers and video game controllers down to go to sleep, he finally peeled himself out of bed. The room was cold, and peeling off the duvet made his thoughts switch languages and wish for a quick death in French.

Shaking the drama off, he shoved his feet into his indoor boots and shuffled down the hall, rubbing at his eyes and letting the. Business completed, he was turning off the water and drying his hands when he thought he heard something. He stumbled, still groggy, down the hall, away from the bedroom. Again, Kuma didn't howl or join him.

The TV, mounted above the fireplace, was on and thew an eerie cast over the living room as Matt approached, poking his head in. There was Alfred, hunched over.

"The fuck are you doing up?" Matt asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Alfred glanced up, expression inscrutable.

"I couldn't sleep," He said, sounding wrecked, like he'd been throwing up or crying.

"You good?" Matt asked, frowning.

"Fine."

"Fucken liar," Matt replied. Alfred's gaze flashed up, the hint of Cherenkov radiation flashing in anger.

"Don't give me that face, o mighty superpower." Matt laughed, rubbing a hand down his face, incredulous. "Christ. You know, I'd normally be happy to do the usual song and dance where you deny everything until I hit a nerve. And then you can have your semi-annual mental breakdown on my couch, but it's 3 in the fucken morning. So get your ass up, turn off the TV, put your butt in a chair in the kitchen and spill your guts while I make us hot chocolate, and then we can go the fuck back to sleep. Okay?"

Whatever it was that made Alfred their kind's weird undying version of superman seemed to drain from him, and his shoulders slumped. It was like watching someone drain the water from a nuclear reactor and shut it down.

"Yeah, all right."

In the kitchen, Alfred sat at the old kitchen table. Matt raided the cabinets and dumped milk, cream, and chocolate into a pot, breathing in a bit of the soothing steam as it warmed.

"You going to start talking?"

"I'm organizing my thoughts," Alfred said as he stared at the kitchen table, tracing the grain of a knot Matt had sanded smooth himself with two fingers. He glared at the wood. "Or I'm trying too."

"Okay. Take your time. This will take a minute." Matt's heart ached, and he opened another cabinet. There was vanilla extract there, but glancing at his brother and full of something softer, he selected one of the vanilla beans he had purchased on his last trip to Mexico and scraped it clean. In it went with the chilli and clove and cinnamon to simmer away.

"Doing okay?" Matt asked. Alfred's hand had gone still on the table, balling into a fist.

"Yeah," Alfred said.

Deciding his brother needed more time, Matt took down a bowl and whipped the living hell out of the rest of the cream until his arm shook. It was always a process. His brother's emotions were structured with the strongest joy on earth on a delicate pedestal of half-processed memories. He stirred the hot chocolate, and now melted together and velvety, it clung to the sides of the pot.

"Okay," Alfred said at last. "Okay, fuck."

He quickly poured two terracotta mugs, scooped on the hand-churned whipped cream and even dusted them with more cinnamon. He sat across the table from Alfred, shaking his left hand out. It was sore from all the whisking now.

"Damn, Matt. You were busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. That's amazing."

"Have to do something while you brood," Matt replied, pulling his hoodie sleeves back down. "Now, what's the fucken problem?"

"I had a nightmare," Alfred said plainly. Well, that'd been easier than usual.

"The 'showing up to the Armed Forces Committee with no pants' nightmare or the 'I got hung for witchcraft and dad presented the head of the fuck who sentenced me on a silver platter' nightmare."

"Neither," Alfred said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He sighed and took another long drink.

"Alfred," Matt said. "Talk."

"I'm trying," He whispered. "It feels like if I say it, it'll come true."

"That's bullshit," Matt replied. "Out with it."

Alfred sighed. "You're a piss ass when you don't sleep, you know that, right?"

"I'm going to be puking chilis and tequila when I wake up. I'm allowed to be cranky." He countered. "Saint Bibiana can't do shit about it. Now, what was this nightmare?"

"I dreamt I woke up, and the world ended while I slept," Alfred said. "Russians yeet some ICBM at me, I tossed some back, the world burned."

"You've had that nightmare since the Russians dropped their first bomb."

"Yup," Alfred said. "But usually, in the dream, I cross from New York into Quebec, and you're there. A little crispier than usual, but there and mostly okay. This time..."

Matt stared at Alfred over his mug.

"This time, what?"

"This time... nothing. No survivors. No glowing zombies, no gas-masked raiders, nothing." He paused, and Matt was silent.

"No you either," Alfred said, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and leaning into the table. "Just ash."

"Alfred," Matt said gently, softly. His brother didn't look up. "Alfred, look at me."

Watery blue eyes appeared from behind his hands. Alfred sniffed, and Matt gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm not going to die,"

"I'm stronger than you," Alfred said. "I'm stronger than everyone. If anyone would survive and be alone, it'd be me."

"So you're afraid that if you go to sleep, you'll have another nightmare about this?"

"I'm scared that if I fall asleep, I'll wake up alone." Alfred scrubbed his hair and looked on the verge of tears again. "Just me on planet earth."

"Alfred, you didn't die on me. I won't die on you, much less the entire planet."

"When the hell would I have died?"

"Does the American Civil War ring a bell?" Matt replied. "You were dead for four days after Gettysburg. But you lived."

"No one was firing nukes at Gettysburg."

"No one is firing nukes now," Matthew said. "If you're okay, I'm okay."

"Can you just... can you promise me you won't die?" Alfred said. Sometimes there was something so childlike about his mind. "Just promise you won't leave me here by myself."

"Cross my heart and hope to live, bud." Matt made the motion of the cross over his heart. He smiled. "Happy?"

Alfred nodded. "Swear to god, though, I will fucking kill you if you die before me."

"Hard same." Matt returned. "I'll set your ass on fire and make DC look like a bathroom candle if you leave me here alone."

Alfred took another sip of hot cholate and shook his head. "You're a firebug, you know that, right?"

"Well yeah, I had to settle for pyromaniac since my big brother is the one with the nuclear hellfire in his back pocket." Matt knuckled his chest and swallowed bile. "But I might be getting there. Holy shit, this is giving me heartburn."

"It's not even spicy." Alfred laughed.

"You know damn well chilli powder, and I don't get along." Matt exhaled, trying to get rid of the taste of bile in his mouth.

"Why'd you make it if you knew it'd give you heartburn?"

"I'm not the one who needed cheering up," Matt shrugged. "Hang on a second. I need antacids."

"Jesus Christ, gringo."

"Hey," Matt flung open the drawer he kept various bottles of over-the-counter pills and tablets and popped something he'd hoped would help. "That's tabernaco to you, Tex-Mex."

Alfred snorted. "Did Mari start calling you that before or after you vomited Salsa Verde all over her nice floor?"

"I put in that floor for her," Matt said. "And it was before if you must know."

"You've got too much slav in you."

"Eh," Matt countered, sitting back down, this time with a glass of water. He shoved his still-hot mug at his brother, and Alfred took it to finish it off. "Katya hasn't pegged me in a while, actually."

Alfred snorted hot chocolate so hard he choked. "Ew, dude, gross."

Matt smacked him on the shoulder. "Finish that up, and you can come huddle for warmth like we're fucken four,"

"Fucking heat-seeking missile,"

"Goddamn right."

absolutely love watching what having children does to the people I know. one friend in particular didn’t change at all, because he always had strong dad vibes, so the baby just completed the picture. and then you contrast it with the people who changed wildly, like my brother, who has been more patient and gentle with his baby than I’ve genuinely ever seen him be in my life. I’m 26. in my 26 years I have never seen this man so tender and every time I’m just ?????????? this is the person who used to suplex me on the trampoline?

in any case I love how Arthur goes from the utter menace the Normans made him - even if the Hundred Years’ War and War of the Roses left him a little less menacing than he was before - to, you know, a dad. a very doting dad at that. like just imagine being Erin and Morgan watching this usually mean, vicious fucker turn into someone so gentle. a man so concerned with his reputation and meticulous about how he carries himself and and what emotions he does/doesn’t show and he’s just like… shamelessly singing silly rhymes or cooing at his baby in public. baby Alfred could throw an apocalyptic fit and Arthur would just find it cute (in a pitiful way). it’s like this man has never felt annoyed in his life. the literal pirate, the scourge of the Atlantic, at one time one of the best and most brutal knights in Europe, an unrepentant and ruthless conqueror, keeps kissing his baby’s forehead and very solemnly asking if he knows how loved he is. the baby that no one really expected to exist in the first place and that Arthur gave zero indication of planning to have, but here he is and good god Arthur loves him more than he’s ever loved anything or anyone. it’s bizarre and no one understands what the hell is happening.

you know i hate tumblrs “i hope they do something problematic” shit so much? its not only with people like thomas sanders or john mulaney or that comic guy with the bike, but with whole ass shows and projects? like nobody ever said b99 is cop propaganda. nobody was saying that until one single person mentioned it and suddenly its the worst show you could watch because of one aspect of their show, while ignoring the shows diversity and political stances.

same happened to dream daddy, like you cant deny that that game was groundbreaking for the lgbt society, but suddlenly some people started shit like ‘uhhh but 5 years ago the game grumps made transphobic jokes’ and ‘you know that joesph is actually a satanist, right?’ and suddenly no one talked about the game anymore?

everytime someone tries their fucking best to be inclusive, diverse etc. people are digging through everything they can find just to justify that they dont like it? overwatch recently hosted a huge event to raise money for breast cancer research in association with the BCRF and without even doing one second of research people accused them of working with the susan g. komen foundation (which wasnt true) and tried to boycott a fucking charity event?

what im saying is, dont let tumblr ruin everything you love because they are bitter

At least it’s not a brick

@out-of-context-batfam

Reblog if you’d be okay if your friend came out as transgender

let’s see how many transphobics we can weed out

best friends forever

i just remembered a story my first plug told me. she's butch and gets mistaken for a man a lot. one time she was walking home when a guy pulled a knife on her and asked for everything in her pockets. panicking, she said "ok" and the guy hearing her voice was like "oh shit, are you a girl?" and she was like "yeah" and he put the knife away and said something like "sorry. i can't do this to a woman" and left. feminist ally.

if pornhub buys tumblr while the deals pending ill take all my art off this godforsaken site and yall should too bc their company has a policy that legally owns whatever work you upload to it

Jewish people: Never Again means now Jewish people: When we say Never Again we don’t mean just us Jewish people: This is the same exact way this started for us last time Jewish people: We’re being arrested for trying to do something and they aren’t letting people know what’s happening or how many have died Jewish people: These are concentration camps, start calling them that. Goy, repeatedly: Uhhh, calling them that diminishes the suffering of The Jews, so you shouldn’t make those comparisons!!

Goy can (and should) reblog but don’t comment.