Could I have drabble where Alfie takes you to meet his mom? Someone like Alfie would have want to make sure his mama approves of the girl he wants to marry :’-)
This concept makes me weep.
Alfie wasn’t slow, he knew something was up from the moment the both of you left your townhouse in London to visit his family in the outerboroughs of the city. You’d been adamant to leave the comfort of your own home early in the morning, claiming you needed to change the your dress for the umpteenth time before fussing over your hair and the shade of your lipstick.
Your husband had been patient, knowing the signs of your nervousness all too well. But he’d put his foot down - literally stomped where he’d been standing by the front door - when you took a glance in the hallway mirror, lips parting to tut at your own reflection.
“For God’s sake, woman. You look fine. Now, let’s get going or my mother - bless her heart - will croak before we make it.”
His tone of voice hadn’t rattled you, but it’d forced you out of the house and now you were sitting in the backseat of the Vauxhall 30-98, leg bouncing as you stared out the window. The window was rolled down, not caring one bit as the breeze hit your face and probably made a mess of your hair.
“Right, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or are you going to continue bouncing a hole into the floor?” Alfie’s voice brought you out of your reverie, your eyes meeting his.
He was trying to mask it, but you could sense that he was growing concerned and that wasn’t your intention. You were just… Nervous.
“What if she doesn’t like me?” You voiced out your concern, voice sounding unusually small as you reached your hand out to find the comfort of your husband’s rough one.
He grasped it without a second thought, grunting as he pulled you closer to his side until you were sitting thigh to thigh. Normally, he’d let his hands wander freely over your thighs and legs but his woman was nervous and he needed to make sure you were alright.
“Who? My mother?” Alfie looked amused, bushy eyebrows rising until they disappeared beneath the edge of his hat. “Love.. I assure you, right, that my mother will absolutely adore you.”
“How can you be sure?” You still looked nervous, but your leg had stopped bouncing so Alfie counted that as a win as he tilted his head to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
He grunted as he felt your lipstick smearing his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when your eyes shone in amusement, dainty fingers coming up to wipe it off with a dazzling smile on your face.
“You’ve been sendin’ her fruit baskets for the past five months,” He huffed. “And she writes you more than me so I’d say you’re alright.”
You giggled, pressing a kiss against his jaw before leaning your cheek against his shoulder; Nerves under control all thanks to your husband.
