Who: Ariadne and wee!Arthur What: Ageplot shenanigans Where: Ariadne’s apartment When: Thursday morning Warnings: Awkward and OCD Status: Closed, partial doc and will be continued in comments
Arthur had no idea he’d been an adult just the night before. But waking up in Ariadne’s bed was a new thing for him. He yawned and stretched and wondered what he was doing there. Had he come in and curled up with her during the night? He didn’t remember doing that.
She was sound asleep, though, and he was careful not to wake her as he got out of the big bed. He went into the bathroom, did his usual routine, then headed to the kitchen. He couldn’t reach the shelf where the cereal was, so he dragged a chair over to climb up on it.
Fruit Loops acquired, he dragged the chair over to the cabinet where the bowls were kept. He took the bowl to the table, then dragged the chair over and sat down. He poured himself a bowl of the cereal, but then sorted it out, counting how many pieces he had of each color because they had to be even before he could eat.
He held his tongue to the side, sticking out a little as he worked, focused and concentrating as if the cereal in front of him was the only thing that mattered in the whole world.
***
It wasn't entirely unusual for Ariadne to sleep through Arthur's morning routine, so she wasn't startled when she found the other side of the bed empty and no longer warm. She sleepily climbed out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. A glance at the clock told her she didn't have to get dressed right away, but she wouldn't be able to linger over breakfast if she wanted to leave on time.
Slightly more awake, she made her way out into the kitchen and got halfway to the coffeemaker before she registered what was going on at the kitchen table. She suddenly very vividly remembered running into Kenny's son and Arthur commenting that he'd looked like that exactly at that age. It was uncanny.
"Arthur?" Ariadne asked cautiously, a little afraid of the answer as she watched him sort his fruit loops. She didn't quite understand what was going on, but it was Arthur. She'd handle it as best she could because she cared for him and no kid should ever be scared.
***
He put up a hand, telling her to wait just a moment. He was almost done. He counted a couple more of the little pieces of cereal, then pushed a handful off to the side. Those were the rejects, the oddballs that didn’t fit his exact count and couldn’t be put into his bowl. They couldn’t go back in the box either, because they’d been on the table, and were contaminated now.
With his counted cereal in the bowl he looked up at her. “You were sleeping so I fixed my own breakfast,” he told her. He beamed with pride, proud of himself and his accomplishment. It wasn’t easy getting the cereal down all by himself!
***
Ariadne's eyes widened in surprise when he put up his hand, but she dutifully stayed where she stood and waited for him to finish. He was counting out the colors, she realized, and it made her think about how meticulous adult Arthur was. There was no denying this was her Arthur though, so she was going to plow through this and just be cautious until she could figure out the rules.
"That was really good of you," she praised, moving slowly toward the table and his discarded pile of cereal. Ariadne swept it into her hand, watching his reaction to gauge if she was doing the right thing and moved toward the garbage to throw it out. If it wasn't good for his bowl, she figured it wouldn't be good at all.
"I'm going to make some toast for myself, and tea. Do you want something to drink?" she asked, moving to the fridge next to get the bread and butter. Every move she made was cautious because she wanted to make sure she was doing it right.
***
Adult Arthur was entirely as meticulous as the child before her now, though he was less obvious about it. He had learned ways to be more subtle, and while not exactly secretive, he didn’t like to draw attention to the fact he was extremely anal retentive and OCD about a lot of things.
He didn’t really care how she went about making her own breakfast, however, since she wasn’t fixing his. “Tea would be quite nice, thank you,” he told her. He was also very prim and proper. He had been raised in filth before he’d come here, before he’d met her, and he had made a very conscious effort, even at his age, to overcome that. He’d watched television shows that documented the British Royal Family in order to learn how to behave, and how to speak properly.
“Toast with butter is hardly a nutritious breakfast, you ought to have some jam with it, at least.” Cereal wasn’t much better. Especially sugary fruity cereal like he was eating. They’d make up for it at lunch.
***
Ariadne moved to fill the kettle with fresh water once he agreed to tea. She didn't particularly care if it was made in the kettle or in the microwave, but he liked it from the kettle so she always used that when he was over. Which was more often than not these days, though she didn't mind in the slightest.
"Does grape jam really make that much of a difference?" She was rummaging around the fridge and decided on using both. Ariadne had never been a particularly big breakfast person. Lunch and dinner were the meals where she got the most nutrition.
By the time her toast popped, Pinto came trotting into the kitchen. "Hey there, Pinto," she greeted the chihuahua. Ariadne paused getting her breakfast ready to fill his dog bowl with his breakfast. Usually Arthur took care of walking him, but they could do that together after breakfast.
"So, what do you want to do today?" she asked as she went back to her breakfast.
***
“Wash your hands,” Arthur said after she’d filled Pinto’s bowls. He would be mortified if she dared touch anything in the kitchen after handling the dog’s food, though he continued to eat his cereal without missing a beat. He didn’t like it once it got too soggy, and the milk turned a weird greyish green color.
He finished the cereal, and sat back in his chair. The chair was twice as big as he was, now that he was small. His feet didn’t touch the ground, but he was too proper to prop them up on the support beam of the chair, so they hung down, and hung about an inch or more above the floor.
“Well, we have to walk Pinto. Maybe we could take him to the park if it’s not too hot today.”