ANTONY & CLEOPATRA → ALFIE SOLOMONS

"breathless"

in honour of the PB season 5 trailer. i miss alfie & john. also finn?!? they need to stop paying my boy DIRT.

—

A series of short pecks because they need the closeness but they also need air, so. Sometimes smiles come in between, or sometimes it's just breath, gasping for the sole purpose of being able to kiss again.

If Alfie's mother could see him now, he didn't doubt she would be beating him with her slipper.

It was ridiculous, really. His wife was in the room behind him, giving birth to his child, and he couldn't bring himself to go in and support her. What kind of man was he?

Alfie's eyes squeezed shut as you let out another painful wail in the other room, followed by heavy, laborious breaths and soft whimpers of words that he couldn't quite make out. He rested his forehead on top of his cane, hat on the seat next him. Inhaling deeply, Alfie wished not for the first time that he had inherited his mother's wisdom.

If she were here, she would be by your side. He knew it for a fact. And if she were by your side, Alfie wouldn't feel guilty about abandoning you during the birth of your firstborn child.

You let out a particularly pained shriek, and Alfie stood to his feet.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Alfie was a man. He had put that child in you, and he was going to watch it come out. "Love? I'm coming in."

Alfie doubted you heard him over the deafening sound of your own cries, but nonetheless, he abandoned his cane and barged into the labour room, nearly knocking over a midwife who was stationed near the door.

And Christ, when he saw you sprawled out on the hospital bed, legs spread right apart as you screamed with pain, he swore he had never felt so proud.

Somehow, in the midst of your panting and wailing, you had landed your eyes on him standing in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes and a still form.

"Oh, now you fucking decide to show up?!"

Knowing that you would maul him if you caught him laughing at such a time, Alfie simply made his way over to your bedside where the doctor and midwives were urging you to push, and knelt by your head, one hand smoothing away your hair from your sweat-slicked forehead while the other took yours and gripped tight.

"Oh my dear God!" You wailed, head tossing back as you cried, nails digging into the tough skin on the back of Alfie's tattooed hand. "If you ever come near me again with that thing between your legs, I will fucking murder—!"

"All right, love," Alfie defended, not wincing as you practically clawed the skin off his hand. "Let's not get carried away."

"If you could feel even a fraction—" You cut yourself off with a short scream through clenched teeth. "Holy fuck, Alfie. God fucking help me."

"You're doing great, aren't ya, love?" Alfie cooed, stroking your forehead as you pushed again, your contractions closer together. "Bet he has a head like mine."

"Fucking massive," you gasped, finding it in yourself to let out a breathy little chuckle. "It's like pushing out a fucking football, Alfie. A huge fucking football."

Alfie couldn't help but laugh, a wheezy sort of breath that he covered up by clearing his throat. He tilted his head and peered between your legs, wincing. "Yes well, looks like it's almost out."

And true to his word, it was only a little while later that you finally pushed the much-too-large baby out, the sound of it's wails practically music to your ears.

"Sound like your mother," Alfie muttered, watching as the nurses snipped the cord and wrapped the crying baby up in a white blanket. "Quite the set of vocal cords you've got there, little one."

"Mr. and Mrs. Solomons," the doctor said, relief on the mans face like Alfie had never seen before. "Congratulations. It's a beautiful baby girl."

"Oh," you said groggily, fresh tears spilling from your eyes as your chin wobbled. "A girl. A baby girl."

"We have a daughter," Alfie breathed, his eyes not leaving the glorious face of his daughter in the doctor's arms. "Holy fuck. A baby girl."

"Can I hold her?" You whimpered, arms lifting weakly as they reached for the baby. The doctor didn't hesitate to hand her over, a smile overtaking his face as the baby nearly immediately stopped crying. "Oh, my sweet angel."

Alfie stayed kneeling, fighting off his own waves of emotion as he watched you with your daughter. How had he managed to make someone so beautiful and good?

"Fucking massive head, she has," Alfie commented, and you looked up in shock as you heard his voice crack. "Absolutely ginormous."

You giggled. "C'mon, Alfie, I bet she wants to meet her daddy."

Alfie looked unsure. His hands were too big and too rough; should he take off his rings? What if he didn't hold her properly? He wasn't sure how to even begin to reach for her when you lifted her up and landed her in his hands.

Your daughter's head fit perfectly in Alfie's palm. She didn't cry when he took her; simply looked up at him with squinted eyes, her pink fingers unfurling and reaching for his beard.

"Angel," Alfie said, and you hummed as he addressed you. "You know I love you. But there is nobody as important to me than this child, I can tell you that."

You could only grin sleepily. "I'm glad you agree," you murmured, accepting the child back into your arms. "Because I agree wholeheartedly."

Alfie couldn't keep himself from kissing you if he tried. He leaned up off his knees to press up against you, minding the baby as he kissed your lips, your cheeks, and your forehead before landing a gentle press to the baby's stomach.

"What are we naming her?" Alfie asked suddenly, pulling away and returning to his knees. "I had been expecting a boy, so I don't have any ideas."

You bit your lip. "I only have one name in mind, really," you said, and Alfie caught onto your hesitancy. "You might not like it, but I've sort of been thinking about it for a while."

"Well, you just pushed her out, so whatever you want, love."

"I want to name her Elizabeth."