Author's Notes: I must remind you of my short attention span again. But this idea was floating around my tumblr for a while, and I guess all it took for me to even attempt writing it was an anon to ask for it. I'm such a noodle-spineeee.

There're also some pics for this on my tumblr if you wanna go look at them.

Enjoy.

"Why the heck are you sticking me with the big boxes, ma? Isn't this going against child labor laws or something?"

"Don't go there, Al. You expect your fragile, still very youthful-looking mother to break her back unloading those?" Alfred's mother chided, smiling at her grumbling son shuffling boxes around the moving truck. She grinned when he scowled half-heartedly at her, his frown quickly dissolving into a smile of his own.

"You don't look a day over sixteen, ma. In fact, you could be my sister."

"Oh, shut the hell up and help me with this."

Alfred laughed when she tossed one of his sneakers at his head, easily dodging it and hopping out of the truck. He picked up the scattered boxes on their lawn and peered up at their new home. It wasn't anything fancy, and it certainly wasn't as big as their last one, but with his parent's divorce, Alfred didn't see a reason to keep so many extra rooms. His mother probably wouldn't be able to handle it.

He shook those thoughts of his teary eyed mom staring in horror at the divorce papers, deciding to keep a stiff upper lip and head into the beige two bedroom house.

"It smells like old people in here," he muttered, wrinkling his nose when he put the box down in the empty living room.

"Must be dust bunnies," Mrs. – well, now it was Ms., wasn't it? – Jones commented. She pulled some picture frames out of the box in front of her, dragging her fingers slowly down the back of her ponytail. "I'll have you clean that tomorrow."

"Jeez, make a guy do everything around here."

"You are the man of the house."

Alfred shrugged, turning away and wandering down the hallway. He really didn't want to get into that with his mom right now.

The house was quaint, yet sort of eerie without any furniture. The bare walls seemed somewhat out of place; no memories linking him here. He glanced into his mother's new bedroom and walked up to the window. The backyard was small; smaller than the living room. The bushes were untrimmed and the tree was tall and spindly. It looked like a skeleton in the fall air – branches jagged and naked.

"No tree house, then," Alfred muttered sardonically, exiting the room. His room was nothing special. Blue walls. Blue carpet. A view of the side yard where they would keep their green waste and garbage bins.

Alfred used the restroom quickly, washing his hands and thinking of a good enough reason to ditch this whole moving effort for a few hours. He wanted to see the town before it got too dark and he got too tired. Alfred flushed the toilet and moved to find the front door.

"Yo, ma! Is it okay if I take a . . ."

He paused in his tracks, his eyes meeting a pair of green ones belonging to a face he was unfamiliar with hovering in the doorway. The man looked over his mother's shoulder and smiled a thin-lipped smile. The way his gaze lingered, wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes when he smiled like that, left Alfred's stomach squirming a small moment before the feeling was gone.

"Who's this?" he asked, coming up beside his mother. Ms. Jones twisted to see her son and she beamed at him. It was completely different than this stranger's smile, and Alfred subconsciously took a step closer to her.

"Alfred! I was just about to call you. This is our new neighbor, Mr. Kirkland. Look at this, he was kind enough to bake us something," she said excitedly, brushing aside her sweaty bangs. Alfred looked at her hands to see a Tupperware filled with burnt little biscuits. "You didn't have to do that, Arthur."

Arthur Kirkland, apparently, merely nodded his head and rocked back on his heels, the picture of a sweet do-gooder. He held up his hand humbly. "It's no trouble. Just think of me as the welcome wagon."

Alfred let his mother pass him the bowl, his fingers prying off the lid before the smell hit him head-on. He must've had a bad look on his face, because when he looked up Arthur was staring at him. Alfred managed his best polite grin. "Smell's awf- awesome."

"You flatter me," Arthur said. His eyes returned to Mr. Jones. "What a nice boy you have. It's great to see kids raised right."

Alfred snorted. "Kid? You're, like, my age, dude."

Arthur grinned and Alfred had to pause as all his teeth came into view. "I wouldn't say that, but I'll take it as a compliment. A darling son and beautiful woman on the same street – I am the lucky one."

Lay it on thick. It's working, Alfred thought, seeing his mom flush up to her ears. She smoothed her bangs into place, avoiding Arthur's gaze.

"You're charming," she muttered. Alfred wanted to gag when Arthur's smile turned a bit more delighted. He tapped his hand against the plastic lid, attempting to clear the air.

"Well! This was a fun little get-together. We should do it again real soon. I'll just go put this in the kitchen!" Alfred said, briskly pivoting his feet and disappearing into the kitchen. He could still hear his mother chatting it up with their neighbor, their voices discernible but muffled through the plaster.

"Give you points for effort," he said with a grin, shaking his head at the burnt scones in his hands. There was no way these were edible. He abruptly dropped them all into the garbage can. When the door clicked shut and the voices stopped, Alfred peeked his head between the counter and the cabinets.

"Your boyfriend gone?"

Ms. Jones scoffed, kneeling down to shuffle through some more boxes. "He's much too young for me, Alfred. I'm not a cougar quite yet.

Alfred whistled, propping his chin on his palms. "What happened to being 'still very-youthful'?"

"It shriveled up and died when you opened that lid," she teased. Alfred felt his jaw drop, it being impossible to hide the hilarity that consumed him.

"You smelled it, too, huh?" he laughed.

"Please. Of course I smelled it."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It would be rude. He went out of his way to make those for us and welcome us to the neighborhood. The sentiment is much sweeter than the cooking has to be," she explained, laying out the coasters on the coffee table.

"If you say so," Alfred said, rolling his shoulders. He put his hands in his jacket pockets and took out his car keys. His mother looked up when she heard the jingling. She knew immediately what he wanted when she saw the pleading look in his eyes. With a surrendered smile, she waved him away. "Go. Have fun exploring. Just be back by seven to help me with the bigger things."

"Can do! Love ya, ma," he grinned, kissing her quickly on the cheek and bolting out the door.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll bet."

Their new home was placed in the exact center of town. It was an easy drive to anywhere important they needed to go to; school, the grocery store, the post office, the clinic. Everything was simple to access, just like Alfred wanted it. It wasn't like the city he lived in before his parent's divorce, where everything was exciting and loud and lights and action.

That was going to be the hardest thing to get used to.

But after being absorbed into his new school and new friends and new life within the next few weeks, Alfred knew he'd survive. Heck, his mom was doing fine at her new job, too.

Everything was okay.

"Dude, I don't think anything you say is going to get me to play hockey on that frozen pond," Alfred said, pursing his lips as he walked down the sidewalk. He saw the old woman who lived at the end of his street watering her flowers. She smiled softly at him and he waved. He still didn't know any of their names. They didn't talk to him, not really.

"It's not dangerous. We do it all the time," Matthew coaxed. Alfred smiled into his phone. Matthew was the first friend he'd made out here, so soft spoken and polite. It was a wonder they got along so well from the beginning, considering they were complete polar opposites.

"It sounds dangerous."

"So you're not coming?" Matthew sighed, his voice taking on a withering lilt, the boy clearly giving up on this argument he'd been having all morning.

"Nah, I'll just drown."

"The ice isn't going to crack, Alfred. It hasn't for years."

Alfred fished his keys out when his house came into view. "Aha! But it has before."

"Well, yeah . . . But-"

"Once is enough for me, my amigo. I'll have to call you later to make sure you're alive, OK?" Alfred joked, twirling his key ring on his finger. He barely heard Matthew's gentle protests when he saw a scraggly mop of hair emerge from the green house across the street. Alfred's pace slowed.

Arthur.

The one neighbor whose name he did know. The only neighbor who had welcomed them to the neighborhood.

Arthur locked his door and was halfway down his pathway when he noticed Alfred staring at him. He smiled and waved. Alfred lifted his hand on reflex. Arthur nodded and then unlocked his car, tossing the plastic wrap into the passenger seat. When his car drove out of sight, the purring of his engine long gone, Alfred came back to reality, hearing the curious questions from his phone.

"Sorry. Just ran into my neighbor," Alfred explained.

Matthew was hesitant a moment. "Are they nice?"

"No. Well, yeah, I guess so. I don't know. He's just kind of weird," Alfred vaguely noted, unlocking his own door and tossing his backpack by the couch.

"Weird?"

"Yeah. He baked us some nasty cookies or something and stuck his head up my mom's ass." Alfred laughed when he heard Matthew's confused sputter. "Not literally. He just sucked up pretty damn quick, like he wanted our permission for something. Or whatever. I don't know. I'm just being a dick, I guess."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Hey, I'll call you later, OK? I think I'm just going to veg here for now." Matthew accepted his loss gracefully and said his goodbyes, leaving Alfred alone to his thoughts and the silence. He laid out on the couch and turned the television on, making himself a sandwich for dinner while his mom did another late shift.

He would definitely survive here, no city or father be damned.

Alfred passed out sprawled on the sofa, none the wiser of the knock on the door and the new Tupperware filled with brownies on his doorstep. And when his mother informed him of it with a glowing look in her eyes later that night when she arrived home, Alfred had to stare at the blackened sweets with what felt like a mouth full of marbles.

Maybe he was just being hard on Arthur.

The guy did make his mom smile, after all. God knows she needed that.