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Alfred hadn’t been keeping count of how long he’d been standing there until Arthur got up from sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“I’ll be back in just a moment, love, I’ve got to call your father-” And then Arthur had just frozen, upon turning around, “A-Alfred!”
It was then Alfred had realized just how worn he felt, how long he’d been standing there just watching them, Arthur and Peter. His knees almost gave away beneath him, his shoulders sagged under the work bag slung over his shoulder.
It was then he felt so tired, having those beautiful green eyes look into his- god, Arthur was so beautiful. Alfred’s mate was so beautiful, with his golden hair tousled atop his head, dark, thick eyebrows knitted together, that lightly-freckled nose, his wiry frame wearing one of Alfred’s old nightshirts and a pair of fuzzy pajama pants. Alfred felt his heart wrench in his chest at the sight of it, and he was made aware of his tiredness by his inability to be able to sweep his omega off his feet and kiss him senseless into their couch.
Nevertheless, Alfred mustered the energy to step forward. “Arthur, baby, I missed you so much-”
And that warm scent of Arthur’s had shifted into something like orange zest, that stung Alfred’s nose as he attempted to step closer to his mate. “You… You’re not supposed to be home yet!”
Oh.
Arthur’s strange outburst startled more than just Alfred, it seemed, because Peter had peeked out from his place nested safely in his pillow fort.
A gasp. “Dad!”
And the pup had scrambled right into Alfred’s legs, knocking the wind out of Alfred’s lungs as he practically climbed up into Alfred’s arms. “Hey there, bud, I missed you too-”
“Get down, Peter, your father’s too tired,” Arthur said sternly, likely sensing it on his mate’s scent. Peter had obeyed with a huff.
Arthur always was the bad cop. He was the one that told Peter he couldn’t have ice cream before dinner, even if Alfred had bought it from the store. He was the one that Peter most often would shout at- I hate you! I hate you! And Arthur would cross his arms and discipline him as a parent should, as Alfred couldn’t find it in his heart to do, but would practically sob in Alfred’s arms when Peter was asleep- Does he really hate me, Alfred? Alfred would kiss away his tears- What? Of course not, Arthur, every kid just says that!
Perhaps that was why Alfred had been so entranced by the sight of Arthur cramped into a pillow fort next to their son. Arthur loved their son to death, but there were somethings he would usually leave Alfred to do, such as pillow-fort building shenanigans, what, because of Arthur’s bad back.
It warmed Alfred’s heart to see him go out of his way for the comfort of their pup. Alfred had unlocked the door to their house as quietly as he could to attempt surprising them, yet as soon as he’d walked in, he’d been rendered frozen by the scent of warm vanilla, the scent of a household at peace, with Peter in Arthur’s arms as they watched one of Peter’s favorite movies. Alfred had only seen the back of their heads, of course, but he could practically envision it, the blue glow of the television screen illuminating smiling, content faces.
It was where Alfred so desperately wanted to be after two weeks, fourteen days, of back-to-back business meetings, all the while being four states away from his family.
Arthur sensed the longing on him as well, seeing as a cold hand came to cradle Alfred’s face. “You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Something would come up every now and then, so I had to keep checking in on my work computer,” Alfred muttered.
“Peter, I’m turning the television off, your father needs some rest-”
“No, don’t let me bother you two, I could use some T.V,” Alfred said with a slight smile. He let his bag drop to the floor, inching his suit jacket off his shoulders.
Although the orangey scent from before had ebbed away, Alfred felt he needed to address whatever had distressed his mate, even if he didn’t really know what it was. “I know I said I’d be coming home tomorrow, but I was able to get here tonight and I just- I’m sorry, baby, I know it was last minute.”
“No, Alfred, we just-” Arthur sighed, his second hand coming to cup Alfred’s other cheek. “Peter and I were under the impression we were celebrating your birthday tomorrow when you came home tomorrow evening. I just panicked. I wanted this to be perfect for you.”
“Aw, come on, just being home is perfect.” Alfred had said in reply.
Despite the fact that his entire birthday had been spent in either conference meetings or on the plane rides back home, Alfred had awoken that morning to a text from Arthur that demanded a Skype call. Arthur and Peter had sung him Happy Birthday and Alfred had touched the grainy picture of the two on his laptop screen. It had been perfect enough.
“Happy birthday, daddy!” Peter squealed giddily.
“Happy birthday, my love.” Arthur punctuated this with a kiss, and Alfred dissolved.
He melted. The tension coiled in his every muscle unraveled as soon as he felt those warm lips on his. Arthur’s hands moved down from Alfred’s face to pull him closer by the collar and oh lord, Arthur’s scent- it was intoxicating. It was the smell of roses and rain mixed with a hint of Alfred’s own scent, one of, as Arthur had lovingly described to him, a fresh pine tree. It gave him a sense of pride to smell it on his mate- however faint the scent was, due to Alfred’s long absence- because it told him that Arthur belonged to him.
And Alfred most definitely belonged to Arthur, his own scent harboring his mate’s faded perfume. Alfred was unapologetically wrapped around Arthur’s finger. He had missed his mate so painfully that the kiss had released him from the discomfort he’d gotten used to for all the days he had to go touch-starved. Arthur owned him, truly.
Alfred had also missed his dear pup. Peter had taken to wrinkling his nose and shutting his eyes at the sight of his parents, no doubt, which was made evident by the “ew!” that had the two smiling into their kiss.
God, Alfred was so tired. He was too tired to protest as his mate pulled away, taking to burying his face into the side of Arthur’s neck instead, taking him in, nuzzling him-
“Alfred, are you scenting me?” Arthur said, with an incredulous peal of laughter. “You know people still know I’m your mate even if you’ve been gone, yeah?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Alfred mumbled, “You need to smell more like me.”
Peter tugged at Alfred’s pant leg, “What about me, Dad? What about me!”
And Alfred pulled away, scooping Peter into his arms, with a newfound strength, to nuzzle his giggling pup as well, “We can’t have people forgetting I’m your dad, can we, Peter?”
“No!”
Arthur watched with a slight smile, hands on his hips. He’d always told Alfred that Peter’s affinity with scenting literally everyone- Peter, you can’t just scent the omegas in your classroom, it’s not proper!- came from Alfred’s crazy obsession with scenting his family every chance he got.
Arthur tapped Peter on the shoulder, “Do we show your father what we made?”
“No!” Peter insisted, “That’s for tomorrow, with all the other stuff!”
“Yeah, Arthur,” Alfred snorted. “Way to ruin the surprise.”
Peter nodded furiously in agreement and Arthur rolled his eyes. “Alright, then what do we do now, Peter?”
“T.V.!”
T.V. it was, and Alfred wasn’t complaining. Arthur and Peter fought for equal rights to Alfred’s attention, which meant the party moved to sit on either side of Alfred on the couch, rather than the pillow fort that was far too small for the three of them.
(There would be pillow shopping tomorrow to remedy that.)
Peter clutched Alfred’s arm, “What movie, Dad?”
“Your pick, sweetie.”
Alfred honestly could’ve cared less- as confirmed by Arthur crooking a finger to beckon Alfred closer as Peter distracted himself with the cartoons on the television screen- because he would be busying himself with, well, catching up for the fourteen-or-so days he had missed.
Fourteen days without waking up to Peter jumping on his bed, to Arthur shoving away Alfred’s morning-breath advances. Fourteen days without coming home to Peter prattling on about his school day, to Arthur cursing out his colleagues after Peter had gone to bed- Alfred I had the worst day today, it was just the worst!
He was catching up for the days he slept alone in bed, without waking up at two AM to steal back the covers, without Arthur complaining about Alfred’s infernal snoring in the morning.
Arthur gave him fourteen days worth of kisses right there- soft and sweet, slow and warm, with that hand of his resting against Alfred’s chest, one that Alfred had clasped in his own, thumbing at Arthur’s ring.
Peter sat obliviously on the other side of Alfred, dozing off at his father’s shoulder.
God, the scent of contentment was overwhelming. It flooded him, its fresh, soothing scent seeping into Alfred’s weary bones. Alfred was complete.
And when Arthur had kissed his lips raw, he pulled away, turning the television off and gathering a sleeping Peter into his arms to put him to bed.
“I missed you two so much,” Alfred whispered as Arthur returned to the living room.
Arthur smirked, tugging Alfred up off the couch and into their bedroom, “Alright, loverboy. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I mean it, Arthur.” Arthur paused, cocking a brow as Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms, tucking his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Being away was the hardest thing I’ve had to do.”
“Peter and I didn’t go a single day without wanting you here with us either, love,” Arthur replied, words muffled as he spoke into Alfred’s hair. “But you haven’t annoyed me the whole time you’ve been here, and that says you’re too sleep deprived to properly function, so you’re going to bed.”
And so Alfred went to bed, clinging to Arthur like a vice.
He awoke in the morning to a near miss of Peter’s feet to his head.
“I said no more jumping on the bed, didn’t I?” Arthur called sternly, to which Peter replied with a pout as he climbed onto the floor, tugging at Alfred’s shirt.
“Dad, get up! Close your eyes and no peeking!”
Alfred shut his eyes with a slight groan, sliding up until his back firmly pressed against the headboard. It didn’t matter, really, because he could smell the cake from a mile away. He still pretended to be shocked when he opened his eyes to find Arthur holding it. “Now, what’s this!”
“I made it,” Peter said, proudly.
That was evident, yes, in the cake that was not quite a shape, with icing that dripped unevenly, and piping that vaguely resembled Alfred’s name.
Alfred loved it.
“Of course, I did most of the actual work,” Arthur said, which made it all the more believable, really, seeing as Arthur was arguably worse of a cook than their five-year-old son.
Nevertheless, Alfred fondly ruffled Peter’s hair. He leaned in for a good morning peck from his loving husband-
“You’re not getting anywhere with me until you brush your teeth.”
There it was. What Alfred had missed for fourteen days, what being so far away from had rendered him so totally depleted.
Peter thudded out of the room to tug in some helium balloons. Arthur turned to Alfred with a light smile, resting the cake on the nightstand. “Good morning, love. Happy birthday again.”
“G’mornin’, babe,” Alfred said, in a voice made hoarse by a well-rested night. “S’the best sleep I’ve gotten in weeks.”
Arthur then paused, brows drawing together, “Well I’m glad you got to sleep because I was awakened every ten minutes by your godforsaken snoring.”
“Wow, we’re really doing this right now?” Alfred muttered incredulously, to which Arthur rolled his eyes with an easy smile, leaning down for a half-apologetic peck on Alfred’s cheek.
“I’m glad you slept well. Now get up, we’ve got quite the day planned for you.”
And Alfred smiled back.