"Damned mosquitoes!" You scratched the underside of your wrist vigorously as
you let out a frustrated sigh.
"You need more spray ____?" Alfred said looking to you, he was so attentive,
even more so with you in this state. You were six months in, and honestly, you
were nervous. You had been preparing for a while now, reading all these
articles on the internet about pregnancy, post partum depression, each time you
found something new, you'd immediately call Al to your side, frantically
showing him the articles only to always get the same response.
'It's just an internet article! Relax, it won't happen to
you. I promise, our little hero will be fine.'
His reassuring smile always made you feel, better. He'd
always tell you to shut off the computer, and sit outside with him. Enjoy the
fresh breeze, perhaps barbeque if it were a nice mid-summer day. Alfred had
slightly calmed down in his new approaching fatherly state. He'd still go
around, being loud and boisterous. But this time it wasn't always about him, it
was about how awesome your approaching little one would be.
"No, I think I'll be fine. That candle crap doesn't work at
all though." You glared at the crappy mosquito repelling candle that sat on the
small table in between you both. Alfred scratched the side of his face. "Yeah,
we should get in. They're eating me like I eat burgers." You rolled your eyes
and let out a chuckle; he got up and offered you a hand. Placing your hand in
his and the other on the chair's arm for a bit of stability, you hoisted yourself
off the chair, wobbling a little, unsteady from the floor. Al wrapped his free
arm around your waist helping you to your feet properly.
"Be careful there; don't want you hurting yourself and the little dude." You
sighed placing your hand on your stomach. You hadn't even sat down with Al to
consider a name yet for the little one. You've just constantly called him the
little hero, the little avenger, and jokingly, Al would call his little son
Side-kick America, as he was to always be Captain.
Entering your small home you breathed in the scent, it made
you slightly sick. The cinnamon candle you lit previously was now reminiscent
of melted crayons ashes and cinnamon buns that sat out for six hours. It made
your stomach churn completely; you placed a hand over your mouth and heaved
"_____ Are you okay? Do you need water or anything?"
"No, I'm fine, it's just that candle, it smells so ..bad."
"But, you liked the smell about an hour ago."
"That's an hour ago, I don't know what I was thinking, I light all of these
candles and I always get sick!"
Alfred let go of you to close the door and lock it behind
you both as you walked your way to the candle to snuff it out for good.
"Ah, wait! Let me do it, don't want you hurting yourself!"
he put the keys up on the key rack by the door and briskly jogged to the
candle, licking his forefinger and thumb and snuffing out the wick, he gave you
a small smile before disappearing into another room. You ran a hand through
your (h/c/l) hair, scratching your scalp slightly. Al was so kind to you in
this state, but it was over bearing kindness. You missed the Al you knew before
your "little hero", the Al that would call you "dudette" and "brah", the Al
that wouldn't mind you doing the simplest things because they were of no
threat. You couldn't be rude to him, you know you couldn't. Those blue eyes of
his always stopped you in your tracks. You had to break it to him somehow, you
couldn't take one more day of this, overbearing protective attitude.
"Hey, ____, uh, where's the ground beef?"
"What are you doing?"
"I was gonna make some burgers for dinner! Would you want fries on the side?"
At least it wasn't pork. The smell of cooking pork made you absolutely sick.
Any cooked meat smell made you feel queasy, but you needed the protein,
banana's and pills didn't suffice, or so said your doctor, wasn't enough.
"Uhm, sure why not."
You plopped down on the couch in the small living room, looking to the door. Al
entered the room shortly with a white Styrofoam container of raw ground beef.
He sat beside you and put the beef on the coffee table in front of both of you.
"Is something wrong _____. You seem, out of it today."
Your eyes never left the door, you didn't want to seem cold, but you didn't
want to seem like a liar.
"I'm, not sure how I feel Al."
Alfred grabbed your hands, his hands were always warm it seemed. They were
always able to envelop yours with no problem. He gently ran his thumbs over the
tops of your hands, looking down at the sets of them.
"You can always tell your hero anything, you know that right?"
You smiled. Something about him saying he was your hero always made you react
the same way; the same little goofy smile you always give him when he does
something ridiculously adorable. You turned your head towards him and leaned
forward slightly resting your head on his shoulder. The smile slowly fading
away from your face as you realized, you had to tell him how you felt. One of
his hands released one of yours as he placed it on your back, gently rubbing it.
"I'm being perfectly serious _____. You can tell me anything, I may be goofy,
but I'm not dumb."
You felt slightly offended as you looked up at him, he returned your look from
underneath his squared off glasses, he rested his forehead on yours as you
lifted your head from his, making him jerk back slightly.
"I never said you were."
His eyebrows rose, knowing he'd well said something
"I didn't say you did, dudette. Relax."
You blinked furrowing your eyebrows once and lightly shoving him with your
freehand, giving a small smirk.
"Look, Al. I know you're trying to do your best, but you're trying way too hard
to be mature. You're not letting me do anything. I need to be active, and I
want MY hero back. Not Alfred F Jones, family man extraordinaire! I need my
Superman back, not Clark Kent."
Al let out a monstrous roar of a laugh. His usual loud ha's made you smile,
hopefully he got the point.
"Dude, I was seriously getting tired of the serious dad act. I love helping you
and all, but I'm not meant to be a strict dad-guy. I'm totally the fun parent.
You, you can be the boring parent. So it balances out."
Your eyes grew wide and your jaw swung open as you stared at him.
"Oh so I'M the boring parent mister 'I'm so awesome'"
He nodded vigorously, giving you a toothy grin.
"You're the mom, mom's are supposed to be naggy and mean!"
You smiled and lightly pushed him.
"Yeah? Well I'll be naggy and mean right now! Go cook my dinner woman! Then
clean the bathroom! And wash the floors!"
Alfred sprang from the couch, grabbing the styrofoam white container and
ran back to the kitchen.
"Right away grumpy mom!"
You shook your head and laid back on the couch looking up to
Maybe being a mom wouldn't be so bad, having Alfred at your
side was definitely a plus as he made life fun.
He'd make your little hero's life, very fun.