Tutelage
This was inspired by @rebelsandtherest fic Amity on their ao3 (their username is Elfpen)! Go read it please! It's amazing! One of my favorites! They did give me permission to write this. I know my writing isn't as good as theirs but I hope someone likes this! Also no, I don't want to know if I'm using the word Tutelage wrong.
Warnings: None, except for the mention of a gun at some point.
July 21st, 1969.
Alfred sat at home, eyes glued to the TV, part of him had wanted to stay at the NASA headquarters. But he also wanted to watch it as most of the world would. Nothing yet, just news headlines running it, 'any moment now' they had to have said it a thousand times. But nothing had happened, he leaned back starting to think the transmissions would never come. His foot tapped insistently on the floor, staring at the tv for even another moment seemed unbearable, but getting up and possibly missing it seemed even worse. He should have just stayed at NASA headquarters, at least there were other people to talk to; at home it was just quiet.
He wouldn't miss anything getting a book off a shelf would he? Alfred turned up the tv keeping his eyes trained on it as he crossed the room to the bookshelves. His head still turned every moment or so as he tried to pick something to read. Nothing seemed interesting though, he moved to another shelf, there had to have been hundreds of books on the shelves something would be interesting. Stuck in the corner of one of the lower shelves Alfred noticed an unlabeled book that he didn't recognize, he leaned down pulling it out and flipping through the pages. It was an astronomy book funnily enough, but he couldn't remember buying it or even getting it for a birthday or christmas. He made his way back to his chosen spot on the couch still searching the pages for something to remind him of where it had come from.
Nothing. The last fifty pages or so were empty, the first handful had drawings he could recognize as his own handwriting. He kept flipping, finally getting to the back cover where something had been glued to the inside cover. Alfred checked the tv again to make sure nothing else had happened, the still headlines about Apollo 11 still flashing across the screen, but nothing new. His eyes went back to the note, squinting trying to decipher the neat handwriting that he knew wasn't his. It wasn't in english either, that much was immediately noticeable. He was able to read it, the fading made it harder though and he was only able to get a word here and there, not the full message. The note wasn't signed, which would have helped greatly. A few more moments of staring at the paper trying to figure it out, and he had it...
'I've included all the maps I know. Next time I see you, I expect to learn some new ones, and hope you'll tell me how you made them.'
Suddenly he knew where it came from, everything about that trip back in 1783 rushing back. months staying with Björn, days of wandering Stockholm, evenings of stories of things that happened centuries before he was born. Sweden had been so kind: it was still odd to think that Françios had said he would have been the first to call Björn that. That night at the Uppsala observatory, they stayed up there all night. The conversation with Kasper that he hadn't thought about since it had been fulfilled and he visited him and they walked in Turku... he forgot to watch the tv as it all came rushing back. He cringed at himself, he had to have been thirteen, fourteen maybe? Alfred knew he had almost cried when he had to leave. He looked down at the book flipping back to the front pages, a new feeling filled him. It was like... homesickness, for somewhere that wasn't technically home. Of course he and Björn and Kasper had been in contact constantly since then, but he hadn't visited them like that, just to visit, for a century at least.
His eyes flipped back up to the tv, the screen had changed and now showed something that was very much not a repeated headline on a screen. The notebook stayed in his lap as he felt what seemed like the entire world hold their breath, everyone was watching weren't they? He glanced at the clock, 10:56 pm, and he was watching history happen alone in his living room.
"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind"
Alfred sat back, his hand going to his forehead, they did it. He knew everything he should be feeling, but instead his first reaction was to want to call someone, and say 'did you see?' of course they would have, they would tell him good job, Alfred hated it that his first reaction was to want someone else's approval. Who could he call though? Matthieu would nod and congratulate him, but he knew his tone wouldn't offer what he wanted. William wouldn't even want to say anything good about it, just complain and offer up something he did himself... his mind went through all the people that he could call, but the weight of the book in his lap offered a suggestion.
He turned the tv up again, making sure he would be able to hear it from the front hall where the telephone was. Alfred got up and made his way to the front hall picking up the phone, and waiting for the operator. Most home phones wouldn't allow international calls, but as a government official his fortunately would.
It rang a few times before the operator picked up, "Hey Mrs. O'Connor's," Alfred knew all the operators by this point, he had the same line for so long and apparently some of them just didn't leave. He answered a few questions, thanked her for the congratulations on such an achievement. Then got back on topic,
"Mrs. O'Conners, I have to make a long distance call, how long? Well..." he hesitated for a moment, knowing after he told her and hung up he couldn't change his mind unless he wanted to make up an excuse for why he had to talk to Björn, "Stockholm?"
She made a small disgruntled noise, then reminded him it would take awhile. "Yes, yes ma'am I do know, but I really need to speak to someone over there"
She promised to do her best to make it quick, Alfred thanked her and hung up knowing it was going to be a long night. Calls could take six hours to go through and he wasn't risking falling asleep and missing it.
He went back to the living room, he looked up at the TV not sure if he should keep it on to see if anything else happened or if he should turn it off. A decision was met to keep it on, just to fill the space with noise. Alfred looked at the ceiling, what was he thinking wanting to talk to Sweden of all people?
~~~~~~~~~~
"Did you see?" Alfred didn't even wait for Björn to say Hello once he heard he was connected, there was a click the operator hanging up and he heard the Swedish man on the other end respond;
"I saw"
"I beat Russia"
"And I told you to stay out of Russian affairs" he was reminded of the warnings given centuries earlier, ones that had clearly been ignored as of recent.
"I'm sorry"
The line went silent, Alfred didn't know what to say and if he was guessing Björn didn't know either. A conversationalist he was not; and suddenly it almost seemed like a mistake to go through all of this for a phone call to brag.
"Alfred?"
He jumped hearing his name on the other end, "Yes sir?"
Björn hesitated again on the other end, he wasn't sure if he should be saying what he was about to. He didn't exactly have to hide things like he did at the beginning of their relationship. Pointing a gun at Njal was a wonderful way to start off a relationship though. He was still supposed to be the Neutral one though, if either the East or West found out differently it could trash decades of cooperation.
So instead of continuing he asked; "When can we meet in person?"
"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused by the question.
"When can I see you next"
The other end went silent yet again, "There's a UN meeting in–"
"No. Just you and I."
Alfred thought for a moment, he looked at the book still sitting on the coffee table in the living room. "I can be in Uppsala in two weeks"
"As soon as you're in Europe, call me."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two weeks went by, and then a month, then two; it was October before Alfred did actually make it to Sweden. Even then it was almost purely by miracle, the only way to get up there had been to lie about how long a NATO meeting was running for, and go afterwards.
He stepped out of the airport, immediately shivering at the gust of wind. Alfred pulled his suit coat closer grumbling to himself about how he should have brought a heavier coat. The pickup area was bustling with activity; family members and friends rushing around to greet each other and help load suitcases into cars. It really wasn't all that different from a port seventy years ago. Alfred liked to jokingly think between his height, blond hair, blue eyes, and two hundred years of Swedish practice he might be able to pass as a Swede. The real only things that gave him away were how he wore his suits, and the deep tan he always retained.
He finally stopped watching people to scan the line of waiting cars, black volvo is what Björn had told him when they talked before Alfred got on the plane in Belgium. He heaved a sigh trying to look in car windows, there had to be thirty black volvo's and he hadn't been given a more detailed description. How long was it going to take to get a phone he could carry around?
He turned around to see if maybe he had accidentally pulled into the line of taxis behind him; only to jump a bit when a car a little too close for comfort blew its horn. The car in question's driver door opened, Björn getting out and waving Alfred over. Alfred tried to be quick to get his bags in the trunk and get in the passenger's seat, he knew how people could get if you took too long in the pickup line; or at least how New Yorkers got. As they pulled out, and onto the main road, Alfred tried to start conversation quickly:
"It's nice to see you, sir"
"It's nice to see you as well, Alfred"
"It's cold ain't it?" He started talking about the weather, only because he wasn't sure what else to say.
"It's actually warm for this time of year" Björn countered, his eyes not moving from the road for even a moment. "Why did you call me?"
Alfred stiffened at the tone of it; he had been asking himself that for the past two and a half months and still hadn't come up with an answer. "Why did you want me to come here?"
A silence settled over the car, both questions left unanswered. That was the problem about answering questions with questions; usually neither got answered. Alfred looked out the window attempting to avoid eye contact with Björn in the mirrors. He thought they were going to Uppsala, but didn't say anything when instead the road signs told him they were headed the opposite way to Stockholm. Alfred also knew though that the drive wasn't exactly short, and sitting in silence for forty minutes would be worse then just answering the question.
"I guess..." he trailed off for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I guess I just wanted to brag"
The Swede huffed, "You would have called anyone else to brag. Not me"
Alfred tried not to sound offended, covering up that his excuse hadn't worked; "Why not you?"
"If you really wanted to 'just brag' you would have called François" He wasn't wrong, Alfred needed François' approval more than anything else nowadays and with how critical of him the French were being, he had been using anything he could. But this hadn't been something he had wanted to tell François. "Why did you call me?"
"Why did you ask me to come here?" Alfred asked his question more forcefully, making it clear he wouldn't speak another word until he had an answer himself.
"Someone could have been listening to the phone lines"
Alfred laughed at the statement, "We both know that's bullshit, Björn. You're not that much of a conspirator"
"Kasper is turning me." The conversation almost changed at the mention of the Finnish personification. Alfred hadn't spent nearly as much time with Kasper as he had with Björn, it made him wonder how he was.
But they both knew what was going on, and they both knew one of them could stop being stubborn; or they could go around in circles for the next half-hour. Really the only difference between them and Alfred with William was how explosive it could get.
Alfred broke quite quickly, he had never been able to hide anything from Björn anyway. "I found that book you gave me. The one with the maps of the stars." he heaved a sigh, "And of course I found it just as they're landing the Apollo Mission on the moon, and it made me think of you, and 1783, and it just made me want you to be proud of me. It's stupid"
The silence seemed unbearably awkward to Alfred as they continued on. Björn didn't respond, he didn't even look over to Alfred for a moment. The younger kept internally scolding himself; look what you've done, you made him uncomfortable. Why would he be proud of you? Why would you want him to be proud of you? He's just a work friend at most.
The car stopped, Alfred didn't bother refocusing his vision, it must just be a stop light. They hadn't been in the car nearly long enough to be at the house. But the sound of cars still driving by made him look out the window, Björn had just pulled over to the side of the road for some reason. He opened his mouth about to ask if something was wrong with the car when;
"I am proud of you."
Alfred scoffed lightly at the words, "You don't have to say that just to make me feel better about myself"
"I'm not." Björn was looking at Alfred, he was serious as normal. But there was something different in his eyes. "When I met you, you were hopeless"
"Thanks. That really boosts my confidence"
"Alfred. You're the strongest in the world now."
"And?"
"And I can't help but think..." Björn trailed off wondering if he should say it. If he really had the right to. "I can't help but think I started that"
"Of course you did!" Alfred laughed, "Dad hated my guts, François was too busy, no one else cared. I would have majorly messed up being a country without you."
"See. So I have something to be proud of, I started it, and you built everything else."
"You're proud of yourself." Alfred argued,
Björn shook his head, "I'm proud of what you've become after what you were"
He looked at his elder meeting his eyes, Alfred almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was proud of him, sincerely. Something no one else was, at least not openly.
"You're sure you mean it?" He was almost mad about how hopeful he sounded.
"I'm sure. There's plenty to be proud of." Björn smiled, just barely, but Alfred knew it was more than most people got from him.
It was decided then that it was good they were in a car, if not Alfred would have hugged the man hard enough to crack a rib. Instead he just sat there reminding himself that superpowers don't cry when someone is proud of them.
"I'm proud of you, Alfred."
Third time a charm, and it left Alfred pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself from crying. Björn must have noticed but instead of commenting he carefully got off the shoulder and back onto the main road headed to Stockholm. The silence that settled over the car was different from the others, it wasn't awkward. It was a contented silence.
Once Alfred composed himself, he bounced back; and smiled, jokingly asking, "Can I have your "Lion of the North" title then?"
"Absolutely not" Björn responded back quickly, trying to hide a smile.
"Awww c'mon old man, you're not using it! And you said it yourself, you were my tutelage"
"I did not use that word"
"Close enough"