Love Painted in Red, White, and Blue

      Ribbons, balloons, flags, and banners created an ever-shifting atmosphere around the streets of New York, woven with the sounds of bands marching in parades and the shouts of joy from the people. July 4th was as spirited and harmonious as it had ever been. Pushing through the crowd was a middle aged man with dirty, messy blonde hair, and intense, thoughtful and wise emerald green eyes. His expression was of discontent, though the cause could be anyone's guess. Those who knew Arthur would perhaps think it his displeasure at losing the Revolutionary War, and any year before, they would have been right. With a final shove, he arrived at his destination.

     

      An olden style house rose up before him; tassels and balloons colored in the respective shades of the Stars and Stripes draped out of every window, and the flag itself flapped majestically in the wind in harmony to the national anthem. Arthur took a deep breath, and made his way up the littered steps to the front door. A welcome mat lay before it, and a little sign hanging there read, Happy 4th! in alternating red, white and blue letters. After straightening his tie, he knocked as loudly and surely as he could, then stood back a bit, resting his hands behind his back.

     

      There was a shout from inside, and a thunder of steps told Arthur the occupant was on his way to answer the door. "Sorry! I'll be right there!" the voice of a younger man belted through the door, and moments later it flew open to reveal the owner of the voice. He was taller, with similarly messy light blonde hair that stuck up in the front. He had striking blue eyes that shone brightly behind rectangular glasses. He wore a white button down and suspenders - his version of dressing up for an occasion. His eyes grew brighter still at the sight of his visitor. "Arthur!"

     

      "Happy birthday, Al-" he could barely finish before he was swept into the other's arms, and twirled about in sharp circles. Without hesitation, he wrapped his own arms around his embracer. "Happy birthday, Alfred." he whispered, a smile spreading across his lips.

     

      "But, Arthur...? I thought you'd be, I don't know..." Alfred began, breaking away finally, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment.

     

      "Dead drunk?" Arthur offered with a laugh. "Normally, you'd be right. But... I don't want to keep dwelling on that, not anymore. I should have realized this so much sooner, but... no, I should have told you this sooner. I'm so proud of you, and I..." he trailed off, a pale blush appearing on his cheeks.

     

      "I love you, Arthur." Alfred said, tears springing to his eyes, and he kissed him, right then and there, a long and hearty kiss that made Arthur melt with happiness.

     

      "I love you too, Alfred."