I Say I Hate You, But Really ...

Alfred was pacing across the living room floor, his hands rubbing together anxiously, his heart beating wildly against his chest. He's been doing this since he got back from Afghanistan, and after four years, Sergeant Alfred was able to come home. But the reason why he was so nervous was about his son, (S/n) Jones.

Three days before being deployed, Alfred and his son got in to an argument about his leave that ended with (S/n) screaming, "I hate you! I wish you weren't even my dad!" Then ran up to his room, the sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the still house. You went after him to try and calm him down, but your son wouldn't even unlock the door for you.

As the four years passed by, you would video chat with your husband to exchange how things were going. But when you called your son to come talk, he would either run back into his room and lock the door, or ignore you both all together. It would take hours before (S/n) would take again, but wouldn't explain why he was upset. What Alfred never told you was that his son's show of dislike kept haunting his subconscious, doubting his decision to fight for his country, questioning if his son really did hate him.

What if he didn't want to see me anymore? He thought. Was he serious when he said that? Does he really hate me? Was it a mistake leaving you with him?

"Alfred!" You exclaimed as you stepped in front of Alfred, then grabbed your husband's face in your hands and pull him around so you both were eye to eye. You have been watching your beloved husband walk around like a caged animal for the last half hour since he got home. "Alfred F. Jones, you need to calm down before I decide to kick your ass and tranquilize you."

"Sorry, sweetheart; it's just that I'm nervous, " he muttered. His baby blue eyes were cloudy with sleep, blonde hair messy and unkempt. He placed his hands over yours, squeezing them slightly.

"You need to calm down, okay? Everything will be all right." You said, taking your hands off his face to put your arms around his neck. He replied by returning the affection, but he still felt tense.

"What if he does hate me?" He asked.

"He doesn't hate you, Alfred." You pulled away to look into his tired eyes. "He was just upset about you leaving like that."

"But I can understand that he would be mad with me, cause seriously, I've been gone for four years. If he wanted a father figure around, I wasn't there to help him."

"But you're here now." You said, trying to raise the soldier's spirits up. "All you have to do is wait until tomorrow, then he'll see his father again." Both you and Alfred had planned to surprise your son at school during class, while he stayed at a friend's house. The friend's mother was aware of the surprise and kept the secret from her son and (S/n). "Believe me, he still loves you."

"Lets hope so." You kissed his cheek a few times, then suddenly bit his neck. He jumped from the sudden bite, his eyes wide with surprise, making you giggle like a little girl.

"Cheer up, or I won't make you my famous cheeseburger." At the mentioning of "cheeseburger", his usual childish attitude resurfaced, his famous goofy smile forming on his lips. You missed seeing that smile since he left home.

"All right, all right," he chuckled, slipping his arm over your shoulders, while you slip yours around his waist as you walked to the kitchen.

As Alfred stood outside the classroom door, his army suit and boots were making him warmer than he wanted to. Or it was possible that he was really nervous again. He was going to see his son again, but he wasn't sure if his son really missed him. The thought of (S/n) really hating him made his chest tighten and a lump to form in his throat.

You left your husband tense beside you, so you put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, putting your reassurance in your touch. He looked at you and smiled; he was a soldier - one of the very men that survived war and torment - he could get through this. As long as he hand you, he could do this.

He stepped forward and knocked on the door. He heard a the clicking of shoes come forward and the door was opened by the teacher, who gave him a encouraging smile. Taking in one quick breath, Alfred walked in.

Out of all the students in the classroom, Alfred easily found his son the second he stepped through the door. Four years ago, (S/n) was twelve, with his father's (h/c) hair and his mother's eyes - and like his father, he was strong for such a young kid. Now as a sixteen year old, he was filling out his figure and was almost as tall as his father; if everything went well, Alfred would start calling his son his "Little Me."

But the moment the teenager locked eyes with him, Alfred instinctively stopped and nearly backed away; he wasn't afraid of his kid, it was just how he would react that made the soldier uneasy. Oblivious to the teacher, she said, "Class, this is Sergeant Alfred F. Jones, who came home from Afghanistan just recently after four years."

The words were lost when (S/n) stood up from his seat and started forward. At first, Alfred thought he would see a fist to his face, but was surprised when his son sprinted the rest of the way and then - to his surprise - hugged him.

His shock had kept him from replying to (S/n)'s sudden affection, but when he heard a sniff, he quickly wrapped his arms around his son's back. All his anxiety, all his fear, washed away with the tears that ran down his cheeks. The both of them hardly heard the cheers from the students, while you shed your own tears of happiness.

"I love you, dad."

Your son whispered, his grip around his old man's neck tightening. Alfred replied by kissing his son's cheek and replied, "Love you too, (S/n)." When he was able to see past his tears, he noticed your smile and tears, as well. He unwrapped an arm from his son, indicating for you to join, which you did happily.

After school, you, Alfred, and your son decided to have a little bonding moment while on the town. At times, you would find your son smiling when his father wasn't looking - a smile that held more pride and love than anything you could imagine. When he noticed you staring, the smile would quickly drop, but left behind a blush on his cheeks that made you giggle.