The Perils of Childraising: Reversal
Further proof that I really should stop writing shota. This time it’s Al and Alfred’s turn!
There are many things Alfred loves about being a father. The joys of watching his son succeed at things, the various pictures that are promptly placed on the refrigerator, and the fact that he never has to bribe Al into eating his vegetables because the boy loves them. Not so crazy about meat, but Alfred can deal with that.
He loves the fact that Al shares his love of ice cream and sweet things, loves that the boy is always willing to cuddle, instantly climbing into his lap at every chance he gets. Whether it’s watching movies or just random stuff on tv, or reading bedtime stories, Al will promptly claim his dad’s lap. (Which sometimes makes it difficult to move the kid when he needs to pee or his legs have fallen asleep.)
What he doesn’t love is Al’s nudist tendencies of late. Or how small hands are determined to go where they shouldn’t, no matter how good they feel. Or the kisses to the mouth.
Alfred really needs to stop underestimating his son’s strength, especially considering he’s on the floor after being tackled, and Al has climbed onto his back, has wrapped little arms around his neck and shoulders, and is not wearing any clothes again, god help him this boy will end him yet.
“Where are you sneaking off to, dad?”
“Work! I’m going to work please put on some clothes!” Because he can feel the heat of slender thighs against his ribs, can feel a smaller chest pressed against his back and he tries not to think about how nice it would be to press his son into the mattress, to have those little legs wrapped around his hips and-
And he is stopping that train of thought right there. Alfred manages to push himself up and get back on his feet, making Al squeak and clutch tighter so he doesn’t fall off.
He reaches behind him, and starts tickling Al, which results in giggles and a loosening grip. He slips an arm under Al’s legs to hold him in place, (determinedly not thinking about how soft Al’s rear is) walks towards the couch, and resumes tickling until the boy is laughing so hard he lets go completely and lands on the couch with a soft thump. Al immediately sits up and pouts, trying to catch his breath.
“No fair, dad.”
“Plenty fair. Now, we have two choices. You can go find some clothes to put on by yourself, or I can find you some clothes, and I promise, you’ll go to daycare looking like someone sprayed you with neon paint.”
It’s not an empty threat either, because Al has enough brightly colored clothes from various relatives that Alfred could follow through with it. He knows for a fact that in the boy’s closet, shoved to the very back, is a bright orange t-shirt with nauseatingly cute animals all over it.
Al looks horrified. “That’s mean, dad!”
“Then I suggest you get moving.”
With a dramatic huff and lots of unnecessary stomping, Al goes to get dressed, returning a few minutes later in shorts and a t-shirt.
“Did you remember underwear this time?”
“Yes.” Al unbuttons his shorts, and pushes them down far enough to reveal Spider-Man briefs.
“Good job. Make ya a deal, kiddo.”
“If you behave at daycare today, we’ll have a Boy’s night. Sound fair?”
Al nods enthusiastically. He behaves well enough that the teachers have nothing to complain about for once, and give a glowing report to Alfred.
Boy’s night means that both of them will walk around the house in their underwear, order pizza, and watch movies, and Al will get to pick first. It means Al gets to stay up late.
It means making a blanket fort with the couch, and Al covering his father’s face with kisses and declaring him the best dad in the world. And it means Alfred returning the kisses and declaring him the best son ever, even if he is a little budding nudist.