I am not a pervert, Arthur repeated in his head. He repeated it many times a day, actually. The fact of the matter was he felt like a pervert no matter how many times he and his nineteen year old boyfriend told him otherwise. It just felt unnatural to be almost fifteen years older than his partner.

For the past six months he and Alfred Jones, a freshman at the university where Arthur worked in the library, had been dating. Arthur was thirty-five and Alfred wasn't. Not even close. There was at least a generation between them. When they had first met, Arthur had made quite sure that Alfred was of age to even think such sexual thoughts as he tended to do. It was shortly afterwards that Alfred made the first move.

He never looked back.

Alfred visited quite often during the day, sometimes spending the night, sometimes sneaking into the library with Arthur to play out their dirty fantasies of student and librarian. He never once had a problem with their age, not even affectionately calling Arthur "gramps" or "old man". He just called him "Artie" and sometimes "babe" or "sweetheart".

Did Arthur look back? Only when he grew nervous that he would chafe Alfred's young lifestyle.

Alfred was popular on campus, so it was fairly standard that he was often invited to parties or to hang outs with groups of friends. At first, Alfred had asked Arthur to join him in some of these events, but Arthur turned him down. There was nothing more humiliating than showing up at some frat party as the oldest man there, not to mention the school librarian. That alone was enough to lose Alfred's status as cool, not to mention possibly Arthur's reputation around the school as the scary librarian. He quite liked his title.

Summer had come and Alfred insisted he remain on campus, but that could only work if he took classes. With encouragement from Arthur he took some English classes, but after the first two weeks Arthur could see it was only a ploy to just move in with him and not have to tell his parents.

That was the final straw in the matter of Arthur's worry: Alfred's parents.

Oh, they knew Alfred was dating a male, but not a much older male. They had no problem with Alfred's homosexuality, accepting him once they saw it wasn't a phase and when he took a man to Prom. From what Alfred had said of them, they sounded like awfully kind people. Arthur thanked his lucky stars.

Somehow, though, he surmised that their kindness could only go so far. His own family wouldn't be able to accept Alfred's age.

How was it Alfred missed all of Arthur's uncomfortable thoughts all the time? Easy.

Arthur would come home late from work, cook himself dinner, and then Alfred would stop by after his homework was finished, if he didn't go out with friends that is. They would then sit together, sometimes on the floor as the couch made it difficult to cuddle. Arthur would lean against Alfred some nights and Alfred would lean against Arthur other nights. The television could be on or a movie could be in or Arthur could be reading while Alfred played a video game. More often than not they enjoyed peace and quiet together.

During the day was when they would talk, deal with other people, handle all the stress of the normal day. But night time, together, alone in Arthur's flat was their sanctuary. That was why. Arthur just never made it public that he sometimes felt at odd ends when students stared at the couple's obvious flirting in the library, or when Alfred asked that they hold hands on campus, or when they went out on a date and the waiter's thought they were father and son, or uncle and nephew. One even asked if they were brothers.

So Arthur kept his paranoia locked up tight, enjoying the feeling of Alfred's skin, hair, lips, everything when alone without remorse. Because Alfred never minded, so he let go of his inhibitions. He only wished that he could do so when outside as well.

One night Alfred mused his thoughts aloud.

"It's funny… I'm young and should be out partying, but at the same time, I'm at that age where I want to know if I'll have a stable future. I crave for that home life I once had as a kid that I'm being forced to find on my own, and you give me that. Whereas you're looking for something new and exciting because you're tired of that stability you've had for the past ten years."

Arthur had nodded and smiled, kissing Alfred on the head. "You are sometimes the wisest man I know."

Alfred had laughed then, nestling himself right under Arthur's chin. He hummed his content. "Yeah. I hang out in that library too often."

The summer passed without incident. Alfred did well in his classes and Arthur found himself growing more daring as the days passed. Never one to go running to pools as he wasn't the most skilled at swimming, he followed Alfred to a water park and dove headfirst down one of the more intense slides. Other times he branched out of his traditional food style and tasted the cuisines from around the world, Alfred laughing at his facial reactions o having never tried sushi or Thai food.

Alfred, on the other hand, was settling in nicely into quiet nights at Arthur's apartment. He came home a few times in sour moods, mainly when a particularly nasty drama spat broke out between his friends. Arthur stepped in as a voice of mature reason, calming Alfred before he did something drastic as teenagers often did, and gave him sound advice. Only once did he worry that he acted more like a father than a lover in this situation, but the next time it arose and Alfred came over in tears, Alfred had said he loved Arthur.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he sniffled that night.

And Arthur never thought again on that matter.

As it was now, the semester had ended and the students were to go home. The school didn't offer winter classes, so there was no excuse Alfred could give his parents into staying at the campus during the break. Arthur had come by Alfred's dorm to help him pack.

He grimaced as he found yet another stale sandwich wedged into some far corner of the room. Earlier he had found a half-eaten donut harder than a rock and then a science experiment that had grown out of Alfred's yogurt cup, carelessly left under his bed. Alfred's roommate was never wise as to Alfred's romance life, and from what Alfred told him, they never talked much in general. He wasn't here now, and it seemed he had already moved out.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked suddenly. He was scrubbing down the shower in the bathroom. His roommate had left without cleaning anything in the room other than his own side of the dormitory.

Arthur moved to the window for some fresh air, wheezing at the stench from the disgusting food. "Y-yes?"

"Will you come home with me?"

There was a pregnant pause. Arthur had to chose his words carefully again, lest he upset Alfred. He did want to stay with Alfred as a month was a long time to be away from his beloved, but he was dreading the meeting of his parents. That was all it came down to. Could he endure a month with Alfred's parents? Could they?

"A month is a long time to be staying with your parents," Arthur said slowly. "Don't you think they would find it rather…bothersome to put up with a guest for so long?"

Alfred stuck his head out of the bathroom with a slight frown. "No. I already asked them and they said it was okay. We have a guest room. It'd be no trouble!"

"I-I don't know," Arthur stuttered. He turned away with shaking eyes and twitchy hands. "What if… They might not like me."

"Impossible." Alfred came from behind and hugged Arthur around the waist. He rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder, nuzzling his nose into Arthur's ear. "I love you… They will love you."

It would take more than sweet kisses on his earlobe to convince Arthur.

He pulled away and walked to another side of the room. "Alfred, it's more than just them getting along with me… It's them accepting us. Our age gap…"

Alfred sighed from behind him. He crossed his arms. "There's nothing anyone can do about that, you know. We love each other. Period. Age doesn't mean a thing to either of us. The only time it does is in the bedroom when it's obvious you're experienced and I'm not, but other than that, I could care less that you'll be forty by the time I graduate."

Arthur blushed to his ears. His heart thundered in his chest. It was promises like these that made him believe Alfred. Naïve and foolish as he thought it was, it felt right.

He turned and smiled. "You're right… I'm sorry… It's just thoughts like these tend to well up in my mind and I get a little carried away."

"Hey, it's okay sweetheart," Alfred cooed as he came over to hug Arthur again. "You're not facing their judgment alone. Okay, you can leave if it gets awkward. I can't. And you can't let them down and have them give you that look of disappointment, you know?"

Arthur kissed Alfred quickly. "I am not leaving, no matter how terrible it gets. Well, unless they call the police on me or something. But I will stay with you. We're in this together. I made that commitment when I kissed you back six months ago."

Alfred smiled, relieved in Arthur's strong words. Arthur kissed him again, and held him close. He felt guilty for not taking Alfred's feelings into consideration, having no idea that those worries had built up inside the younger man all this time. It was strangely endearing.

"Oh, hey…," Alfred mumbled against Arthur's lips. "Can we…um… here? We've never done it here…"

"Now?" Arthur hissed. He rolled his eyes at Alfred's pout. "Oh, all right! You're so horny."

"So are you."

Arthur kissed that laugh off of Alfred's lips before it left his mouth.

Alfred's parents were loud and touchy-feely. They screamed in joy when Alfred knocked on the door and hugged him tight. Arthur stood back, holding his suitcase and watching the heartwarming moment before him. Alfred's mother was a short woman with curly blonde locks to her shoulders and laugh lines etched in her face. His father was taller than him by a few inches and had the same laugh and bright blue eyes as his son.

"Oh, my baby boy is back home!" Mrs. Jones gave Alfred's cheeks a squeeze before loudly kissing them. "You look so thin! Have you not been eating well?"

"No, I've been eating just fine," Alfred replied, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. Nothing like having your older boyfriend see such a dorky moment, he thought. He must think I'm lame.

Mr. Jones held out a hand to Arthur. "And you must be Arthur. Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," Arthur replied, politely taking the hand with a shake. "Alfred has not stopped chatting about you two since finals began."

Mrs. Jones laughed and gave Arthur a hug. Then she sized him up. "You look much older than I thought you'd be. Well come on it!"

Arthur barely had time to even give a nervous chuckle at Mrs. Jones' statement before being hustled inside. Alfred headed down the hallway with the suitcases with Mr. Jones as Arthur was shown the way to the kitchen by Mrs. Jones.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, plopping Arthur into a seat.

"Um, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you." Arthur tried to catch his breath at the tidal wave that was the Jones. He glanced around the kitchen. "My, what lovely decoration."

Mrs. Jones waved at him with a laugh. "You are so kind! You speak so British, I love it! Oh, sorry, I don't think Alfred would like to hear me say that about you."

"Not at all. I don't mind." Arthur smiled. So much like Alfred, she was.

After the put the kettle on, Mrs. Jones took a seat opposite of Arthur. "So! Alfred has told us SO much about you, but we don't really KNOW about you, you know?"

Arthur blinked for a moment and then laughed. He covered his mouth with his hand. "I'm sorry. Your son sounds incredibly like you. It's almost eerie."

Mrs. Jones laughed as well. She pat Arthur's hand affectionately. "You really aren't like the other boys Alfred's brought home! This is such a change for him. He's usually into tough guys or the overly flaming ones. But you seem so nice and mature. It must be because you're English."

Arthur blushed not from embarrassment at the compliment, but rather nervousness. "Well… I am older than Alfred by a few years."

"How old are you? You must be twenty-three."

"Oh, um, well… I…"

"Mom!" Alfred called from down the hallway. "Did you put new sheets on the guest bed?"

"Yes!" she yelled back. "Would you like some tea?"

"No thanks!"

Arthur fiddled with his hands, unsure of whether or not to even attempt an answer right now. Mrs. Jones was about to return her attention to him and would expect an answer. What was something he could say to deter her from asking again?

"Mom!" Alfred called again. Oh, bless that man.

"Alfred, stop shouting and come in here if you have a question!"

He appeared soon enough and sat down. "I was just wondering if I could have something to eat."

"But we'll be eating soon."

Alfred groaned, putting his head on the table. "Mom, I just want a little snack!"

"There's some cheese you can have in the fridge. Just don't eat it all."

Now Mrs. Jones was looking back at Arthur. By now she had moved on to a new topic to talk about.

"What is your major in school?" she asked.

"I'm not in school anymore," Arthur replied. "I graduated."

"Oh! I knew it! You have to be twenty-three." Somehow she seemed so proud of this, even though it wasn't true. "So what was your degree in?"

"History," Arthur replied. "Specifically European history."

"I didn't know that," Alfred mumbled as he nibbled on his cheese like a rat. Mrs. Jones looked at Alfred confused. He shrugged. "I just never asked."

"Well, do you have a job?" Mrs. Jones asked.

"Yes, at the campus library. That is where Alfred and I met."

"It's nice you found a job right out of school. Was it hard after you graduated? I hear the graduates these days take up to a year or more to find a stable job."

Arthur blushed and looked to Alfred for help. The boy was of no use. He had fallen into a happy daze of cheese. He looked back at her and smiled weakly.

Here it comes.

"We-well, when I graduated… times weren't tough."

"When you graduated?" Mrs. Jones frowned. "Didn't you graduate just last year or something?"

Arthur shook his head. "I graduated… over ten years ago."

Alfred was now paying attention. He set his cheese down on the table and watched his mother. She seemed terribly confused and unable to process the math. Here she thought a twenty-three year old man had graduated when he was thirteen. That wasn't right.

"I don't understand…"

"Ma'am…I am not twenty-three…," Arthur said solemnly. He wanted to look at his lap, the wallpaper, Alfred, his hands, anywhere but at Alfred's mother. However, that wouldn't be a good, strong impression. He kept his eyes focused and his voice controlled as he said, "I am thirty-five."

Comically, the kettle began to scream. When neither Mrs. Jones nor Arthur moved to turn the stove down, Alfred decided he would instead. He pulled down the tea cups and poured the tea. When he returned to the table, Mrs. Jones seemed to have digested the new information as best she could.

She grabbed onto the tea cup. Her fingers curled around it, pressing into the sides until they turned white. She stared at the brown liquid and steam coming off from the tea, lips pressed tight. Arthur and Alfred looked at each other and then back to her, scared to even attempt to start back up a conversation.

Then, Mr. Jones entered the room. "So! Arthur, what's your degree?"

"He's thirty-five, Steve," Mrs. Jones said abruptly. She was staring at him in a panic, almost acting like she had just let some pedophile into her house, here to take her infant child away.

Mr. Jones stopped, looking at Arthur. He smiled. "He can't be. I'm sure the boys are playing a joke on you."

Arthur sighed. "No, sir, we're not. I really am thirty-five. I can show you my driver's license to prove it to you."

Now was the time to grow worried. Mrs. Jones was scary when quiet, but only because neither boy knew what she was thinking about. With Mr. Jones he turned loud and vocal. He slammed a hand on the table and proceeded to shout at Arthur.

"What? How dare you! What is wrong with you? You're a thirty-five year old man and you're in a committed relationship with my nineteen year old SON? How sick! You're sick!"

Alfred jumped up, pushing his father away lightly to step between them. He saw Arthur crumbling. "Whoa, dad, stop right there! Mom, you too! First of all, I made all the first moves. Every single one! He didn't touch me or even talk to me unless I did first. Okay? I agreed to this and I asked him out. Second, Arthur made sure I was legal before doing anything."

Arthur found his voice and spoke up for himself. He stood as well, trying to keep that confidence in his chest. "Yes, I did. I didn't even think of anything with Alfred until I made certain that he was legal and that he was okay with the situation. I also made sure that it was all right with the school regulations. Because I am not technically staff of the campus, I just work in the library, it is allowed. I am not head librarian. Nothing we have done is illegal, I would like to make that point very clear. Also, nothing we have done has been forced. We have voluntarily gotten together and remained together."

As if to emphasize Arthur's statement, Alfred took his hand and stood by his side. "Mom, dad, I know you don't like this. A lot of people don't. I had to stop telling my friends about my relationship."

Arthur looked at Alfred, slightly stunned. He had not heard of this. He guessed it when some days he came over, silent, and said he wasn't going to see his friends. That he hadn't been invited somewhere. That drama had broke out and it was his fault for some reason. Now it made sense.

Arthur squeezed his hand.

"But I don't care. I really don't. Arthur makes me happy. And love has no barriers, be it race, gender, or age. You know that. You two are eight years apart and you still fell in love."

"Yes, but it's a little different," Mr. Jones started.

Arthur held up a hand to stop him. "Please. My intentions with your son are pure. I love him and I would never harm him. If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at me. Not at your son. But before you do, I will put out there that you may ask me any questions that you may have. Any, and I will answer them."

"Have you slept with him?" Mrs. Jones asked quickly. Her tone was stern and she stared at Arthur.

"Mom!" Alfred exclaimed, horrified.

"Yes," Arthur replied calmly. "We have for the past six months now."

"Do you use protection?" Mrs. Jones followed up.

"Mom…," Alfred groaned. He slapped a hand to his red face.

"Yes," Arthur was still calm and level headed. He would answer a thousand questions, if only to soothe them. "I checked myself and had Alfred get checked. We are clean, but we still use protection nonetheless."

Mrs. Jones seemed satisfied, or at least out of immediate questions. She sat back in her chair and sipped her tea slowly, watching Arthur. Mr. Jones looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't put it fully into words. Instead he stood by Alfred in a silent rage.

Arthur sighed. "I did not come here for your judgment or for your blessing. I am a grown man…as is Alfred. He works hard at school, loves his hobbies and acts like a child when free of stress, but goes to class like an adult, becomes involved in the community and in his future like an adult. He's made his choice to be with me. We didn't come for acceptance. We came because Alfred wanted you to know this is his life. This is our life, together."

Alfred cleared his throat. "I wanted you guys to know…because I love you. I love Arthur. I wanted you to know."

Alfred, always so tall and boisterous, suddenly seemed so small and young. Arthur was nervous and scared too, but not for himself or because of Alfred's parents. He was all these things for Alfred. Alfred had the most to lose in this situation. He was putting so much on the line for Arthur.

Mrs. Jones stood up. Her chair scrapped the hardwood floor and the sound echoed off the walls. "I think I'll start on dinner."

Alfred smiled slightly, but it wasn't returned. He watched as both of his parents left the room, leaving a vacuum of emptiness and horrid silence between the couple. Arthur looked at Alfred. He was shaken, that much was obvious, but he wasn't down for the count.

"You okay?" Arthur asked. He received a squeeze on his hand in reply. Arthur kissed his cheek. "If they aren't proud of you, I am."

Alfred furrowed his brow. "You didn't have to stand up for me…"

"Why not?"

"I just… I could have done it."

Arthur turned Alfred's face so he could look at him. "Al, don't get upset. I know you wanted to defend yourself, but I also know how scary that was."

"It wasn't scary!"

"I was scared."

Alfred bit his lip. "Well…maybe it was a little scary. But you didn't look it."

"Of course not. I'm too old to show my emotions. Remember? I'm a robot man."

Alfred laughed, and his shoulders dropped. "Yeah right! You're more emotional than me! You just hide it."

"What? Lies!"

Alfred poked his nose. "Naw, I can read you like an open book! You're just a big ol' emotional crybaby!"

Arthur pretended to be angry and Alfred pretended to start a fight with him, just so he could tickle him and they could laugh away this white elephant. Eventually, Mrs. Jones returned with a calmer demeanor and began cooking dinner. The couple moved into the living room and watched television to pass the time. Dinner was quiet and only Alfred talked, but after awhile, he ran out of things to say.

Morning came and Arthur woke early, as usual. Alfred wasn't up, but that was to be expected. Alfred's parents were both in the living room, reading the newspaper and sitting by the fire. Arthur came in and yawned a good morning. The two replied politely.

Then, "Arthur, will you join us?"

Arthur looked over, seeing as Mr. Jones waved a hand at the couch opposite them. Arthur took a seat and tried to act calm. It was more he was tired and trying to keep his yawns under control.

"Arthur, how committed to Alfred are you?" Mr. Jones asked.

Ah, we're startin' the day off early, Arthur thought. Nevertheless, he took it well.

"My last relationship was well over five years ago and lasted for two months," Arthur started. "I do not jump into relationships and I never have. I hope that I never break up with your son. He's exactly what I've always wanted in a man."

Mrs. Jones cut her husband off with a hand. "Does Alfred still wake up at eleven on weekends?"

"Oh yes." Arthur smiled, shaking his head. "I try to wake him up, but it's near impossible. Sometimes I've caught him on that blasted iPhone, texting friends or on Facebook and Tumblr doing…nothing but stay awake. I have to take it from him."

Mrs. Jones looked pleased. "Does he enjoy waffles as much as he did when he was a child?"

"I can't compare how he was as a child to now, but I can say that he forced me to buy six boxes of waffles for when he comes to stay the night. I never ate waffles before, but now he has me eating them almost every other weekend."

Arthur was looking around the room as he talked. He imagined that while he was in high school back in England, Alfred was here, teetering around in diapers while his parents chased him. He imagined him to be quite a handful of a baby and smiled to himself.

"May I ask a few questions?" Arthur scooted forward in his seat, hands clasped in his lap. "May I ask about what Alfred was like as a young boy? I am curious. He seems the type to make first time parents groan at just the thought."

Mrs. Jones laughed loudly just like Alfred normally does when something funny catches him off guard and he can't control the volume of his voice. She smiled at Arthur. "Oh yes, he has many stories."

It was eleven when Alfred appeared, a zombie-like moan announcing his arrival. He stopped, though, when he saw his boyfriend getting along with his parents as if they were old chums. A photo album was in Arthur's lap and he sat between Mr. and Mrs. Jones, laughing over tea at the numerous humiliating photos of naked Alfred waddling about with a blanket trailing along behind him.

"MOM!" Alfred yelled. He was more terrified of right now than last night. "DAD! WHAT THE HELL? NOT COOL!"

"Oh, I was bound to find this eventually!" Arthur laughed. "These are priceless!"

Alfred hid his face. "God, you guys sound like a bunch of old people."

"Get over it, son. We are old people," Mr. Jones joked. He nudged Arthur with a wink.

"Speak for yourself," Arthur replied with a grin. "I'm only as old as I think myself to be. And Alfred makes me forget my age. I'll never be old with him."

Hoshiko2's cents: First of all, WOW! The response from the other story was amazing. I was surprised and just overwhelmed. I didn't feel that a "thank you" was satisfactory, so I wrote this follow-up piece as a thank you. Second of all, no, this will not be continued after this. I really have nothing more to say about this universe. It was fun and I enjoyed it and it's been interesting, but I touched on all the main points.

And finally, if any of you are dealing with losses from 9/11 today, I hope you found some joy in this fic. My heart goes out to every single person affected by what happened ten years ago.