#take some alfonse fluff as an apology uwu

[qvill-s]

5&7 fluff for Alfonse pretty please? I really love your writing

NOTES: of course, nonnie, and so sorry for the long wait !!! there’s some spoilers for book three of feh, and i don’t know if that’s something people are still worried about, but i thought i should let you guys know anyway uwu

WARNINGS: pls cherish alfonse; feh book 3 spoilers

WORD COUNT: 942

alfonse + “OH you’re jealous” &&. “please just kiss me already” under the cut !!!

Sometimes, Anna’s schemes can really try his patience.

Alfonse has watched you prance around with various Heroes of the Order all day. He has watched you frolic amongst the flowers of the garden with Micaiah, watched you take archery lessons from Lyn, and watched you have tea with the Hero-King himself. He’s watched you explore the food market with Ike, watched you play in the river with Alm, watched you be doted over by Camilla, and for what?

Pictures. 

Apparently, the people of Askr (and other mysterious investors) are interested in seeing pictures of you with the Heroes, so Anna, armed with a camera tome, made it her task to deliver. The whole day was used to document your various interactions with the Heroes and to capture your candid smiles and laughter.

At first, Alfonse was okay with it. In fact, he was proud of it. He thought it natural that people wanted pictures of you. You were attractive; who wouldn’t want to see you, your charming laughter, your precious smiles? Who wouldn’t want to be around you?

As he goes through the pictures Anna has taken, however, there’s a small frown on his face that grows wider with every image because in each one you’re suspiciously close to the other heroes. Ike held your hand as you strolled through the busy streets, fingers intertwined with yours in that special way he thought only the two of you shared. Marth sat a little too close to you during tea, his shoulder against yours, your arms brushing each other every so often. Micaiah wove you a crown made from daises and ranunculus which, from what little he knows of the language of flowers, meant loyal love and a confession of being attracted to you. 

He comes across the picture of Micaiah placing the crown on your head, her fingers tucking an errant lock of hair behind your ear, the gentle smile on her face, your lashes against your cheek, and his heart lurches in his chest.

He’s not jealous, per se, but he can’t help but feel… inferior. All the Heroes you summon will be more than he ever will be, having already accomplished so much with less time and having faced so many trying ordeals. He’s barely managed to keep Hel from taking his soul, and even then, it was at the cost of his own father’s. What could he, of all the people you could’ve chosen, what could he possibly offer that the other Heroes couldn’t offer and more?

And with that thought in mind, he sighs, a deep, heavy sound, and there’s a sudden pressure of arms around his middle and a kiss to his clothed shoulder.

“You okay, Alfonse?” You ask, nuzzling your face into his back.

“It’s nothing, Summoner.” If there was anything his tutors taught him, it was how to hide his feelings for the sake of politeness and lie. He clears his throat. “I was just looking over the photos Anna took.”

“Oh, those! The whole thing took too long to do—” you tighten your hold around his waist as you press another kiss to his back—“so I haven’t seen you all day, and I missed you.”

“And I you,” he says. The words feel heavy on his tongue (because you should be with someone else, someone better, someone who isn’t him), but they’re genuine, coming from the depths of a heart that doesn’t feel complete unless it beats next to yours.

“Seriously Alfonse, are you okay?” Your arms unravel from his waist, opting instead to take his hands in yours. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Yes… he supposes he does. Your relationship, after all, was founded in honesty and a promise to talk, to work through all the things that the two of you are going through. You deserved to know, to be given a chance to decide if a relationship with him is what you really want.

With a deep breath, he asks you, “Don’t you think you deserve someone better? The other heroes, they— they’re much braver, stronger, and… greater than I, than I could ever be.”

He stares at the fingers that fit perfectly between his own instead of your eyes, afraid of what he’ll find within. He’s shown you his weakness so many times, shown you all the ways he’s unworthy, and now he’s giving you a way out. If you decide to leave him, to take back the heart you gave him so long ago, he’ll understand. He’ll have to.

Your hands leave his, and this is it, he thinks, this is how you leave him, but they come to cup his cheeks and drag his gaze to meet your own.

He’s warned you before that your eyes are an open book, that your emotions are painted out in full display against the color of your irises, and what he finds deep in the ocean of your eyes is a warmth he doesn’t see you display around anyone else. 

You smile, that gentle smile that’s meant just for him, the one that softens the corners of your eyes, and tell him, “I chose you, Alfonse, I chose you because I love you, and it’s not something I want to take back. Ever.” Your eyes search his own. “Okay?”

He knows your words are true, because he sees it in your expressive eyes, in the caress of your thumb against his cheek, and he nods. “Okay.”

“Good. Now kiss me, you big dummy. I’ve missed you.”

And he does as he’s told, kissing you soundly with all the gentleness and the love that he finds in his heart.