A/N: I'm starting to transfer some of my fan fictions from AO3.
Reviews are always welcomed.
Every human on Earth is assigned an angel. The age you receive your angel varies depending on what your current life situation is. If you are in desperate need, or if you feel as though you are under threat your angel will be sent to you. They will fall to your location on Earth and will then serve you as a friend and a loyal companion for the remainder of your mortal life.
Greg had scanned the words printed in his 'Angel History' text book. He had read those words so many times that he had memorised them, but he found the act of soaking in the inked letters comforting. It was nice to know that one day he would receive his angel. One day. On that day maybe things wouldn't seem so chaotic anymore, maybe he'd be able to do good in his life for once. He wouldn't be such screw up.
He wasn't religious; he didn't go to church or follow the bible to the letter. He was like most teenagers. He smoked, he drank, had sex, and got in trouble a lot at class. He was the local badboy and his mother fretted to no end that he would lead her to an early grave. The girls seemed to like it though, and quite a few boys had turned their attention his way whenever he showed up at a club. Nah, not religious, but he knew angels existed and he felt like he was missing out on something. He wanted an angel badly and it was beginning to bug him more than he liked.
That night Greg found himself in a new nightclub. All his mates had recommended it and he needed a distraction from the whole angel thing. He sat on the side-lines for a bit and studied the crowd for any familiar faces, sipping at a cold beer. The froth tickled his tongue and cooled the back of his throat, and soon he began to feel the alcohol taking the edge off things.
It was then that his eyes caught a glimpse of a boy he recognised. He felt a grin spread across his features. Licking his lips, he stood from the stool he was sat on and began wading his way through a sea of bodies before reaching the blonde haired boy. "John, right?"
The boy was cute, a bit young for his liking but he was adorable. His light blonde hair was matched with freckles and a button nose. His answer came out stuttered. "Uh…yeh?"
"Greg," He reached out his hand for John to take and the boy shook it nervously. "A bit young for here, aren't you?" He waved his hand in a wild gesture around the club.
"Yeh, it was my angel's idea to come in here. I don't know where he is now." John frowned and shrank back from Greg like a timid animal.
Greg's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Your angel?" How come a kid younger than him got an angel and he didn't? Hardly seemed fair.
"Uh..yeh. He's tall, got curly hair, the handsome kind, you know?"
Greg snorted, his eyes rolling of their own accord. It was so blatantly obvious that John had a crush on his angel. A shame because Greg and everyone else with any brains knew that having a relationship with any angel is strictly forbidden. Perhaps he could distract John, after all they both seemed to have problems regarding angels (or rather lack of them.) His predatory grin returned.
"You know, I actually came over here because I think you're really cute." A bit of a middle school thing to say but he liked to be a forward as possible with his conquests. " I go to your school. I'm the year above you. Dare say I've sneaked a peak at you quite a few times."
John seemed to visibly gawk, his thin lips snapping open then closed in shock. For a moment Greg thought the younger boy was going to run away, burst into tears, or maybe both. Instead he murmured a quiet reply that Greg had to strain his ears to hear. "You think I'm cute?"
"Yeh, I mean, you're adorable. I could just eat you all up." With expertise he licked the outer shell of John's ear. This time the boy shrieked and darted out of reach of Greg's warm, wet tongue.
"I'm not gay!" John snapped, furiously rubbing at his ear as though he believed Greg to have given him a nasty disease. He was at this point a dark shade of red.
Greg raised his hands in defence. "Neither am I. I'm bisexual. And for the record? I'm actually kinda drunk and I'm just teasing. You're really not my type. I much prefer tall, dark and mysterious." He sighed dreamily for effect.
This time John didn't reply and it didn't take Greg to figure out why. He could feel hot breath on the back of his neck and the presence of another being felt so strong that it made him feel a bit queasy. He turned, only to see a furious angel lingering behind him. His breath caught in his throat.
"I believe I'm pretty tall, dark and mysterious? Do you want to see how far you'd get with me? Sherlock Holmes. A pleasure to meet you Graham."
"It's Greg," The brown haired boy quipped, tying to sound more confident than he felt.
The strange creature looked like an angel of death. He was rake thin and Greg could tell that his skin was alabaster pale even under the flashing club lights. The dark curls that fell from the angel's head seemed to bristle with frustration. The angel's wings stretched out behind him impressively, the occasional feather twitching. He couldn't quite tell the true colour of the wings, they seem to change in the light from brown to black, and some feathers even looked like they were tinted with shades of blue.
That was all Greg was able to take in before he found a fist connecting with his jaw. He was on the ground in an instant. The whole world fell out from beneath him. Another fist collided with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. His choked out a plea for the angel to stop; his vision was already turning black and he could taste a hint of blood filling his mouth. A blurred image of John Watson seemed to shove in front of the monstrous angel.
"Sherlock, no! Stop. He was just kidding around!"
Greg tried to move but it was no use. Everything was spinning, faster and faster, and his vision was tumbling into a dark tunnel. It wasn't long before he was completely unconscious and security came to break up the fight, despite the fact that it was far too late. The last thing he felt was finger pressed up against his neck, someone checking for a pulse.
Greg's head hurt, and that was putting it lightly. This wasn't like any hangover he'd experienced before. It wasn't just his head that hurt either. His jaw ached and it felt like his chest was on fire. What had happened?
The previous night's events came back to him in bits and pieces, like his mind was trying to put a jigsaw piece together. He remembered teasing John Watson, taking it a step too far, and inevitably getting battered by the younger boy's very pissed off angel.
He absentmindedly rubbed at his bruised chest and groaned. He couldn't have felt sorrier for himself if he tried. His mum was going to kill him, that is if Sherlock didn't come back to finish what he had started.
"Ah, you're alive, that's a start I suppose."
Greg bolted upright at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He was lying in his own bed and everything looked normal, apart from the angel sat at the end of his bed. That was definitely a new thing.
This angel was different than the one he'd gotten into a fight with. He looked a little softer, less rough around the edges, and the way he held himself in general was a lot more regal. There was something about him that seemed standoffish. Every piece of his outfit was straight and crease free, even his feathers seemed to be positioned with a neat accuracy.
"Yeh, I'm alive. I kind of feel like I've been to hell and back though."
The angel frowned. "You haven't been to hell. I think you'd know about it."
"I'm going to hell though!" Greg said through gritted teeth. His chest really hurt. Angels were deceivingly stronger than they looked.
"Why would you say that?"
"Well, you know all those bible bashers, always going on about how I'm going to hell for liking men!"
The frown deepened on the angel's face. "You go to hell if you're a bad person. Bad people don't deserve angels, and I certainly wouldn't have been sent to you if that were the case."
Greg blinked, suddenly a lot less focussed on his pain and a lot more focussed on the angel. "You're…my angel?"
"Yes. It's rather fitting, seeing as it was my brother that beckoned me to you. I don't know whether to throttle him or thank him." He stood and held out his hand. "Mycroft Holmes at your service."
Greg took hold of Mycroft's hand and shook it, but his heart wasn't really in the gesture. "You're related to the guy that did this to me?" He gestured at his injuries in exasperation.
"Unfortunately, yes. I've had some very stern words with him. He's still a fledgling, hasn't really grasped what it means to be a guardian angel. He's had a rough time of it as of late. I worry about him. Constantly."
"You worry about him? What about me? He's not the one who got completely thrashed last night."
"No, perhaps not, but maybe next time you'll take care of who you flirt with? He was protecting his human, which is a perfectly natural reaction. I'd do the same for you, should you need me to, but perhaps with less thrashing. I have a far cooler temperament than my baby brother and happen to know that words can be just as equally powerful as actions." Mycroft studied the young human carefully, sweeping his yes over the injuries that his brother had caused. "May I have a look?"
Greg would have jumped at the chance normally but right now he just felt nervous. He bit his lip in thought before very cautiously nodding his consent. "Sure," He murmured.
Mycroft's hands were warmer than he'd expected. Those long, delicate fingers ran down where his injuries were most obvious, sliding beneath his T-shirt and caressing the skin there. He felt his chest tingle (not an entirely unpleasant sensation). He actually allowed himself to smile a bit. Mycroft noticed and smiled back as he very gracefully smoothed a thumb over his jaw. If Greg made a pleasured noise Mycroft either didn't hear it or merely ignored it.
The pain was gone now, like it hadn't even existed in the first place. Greg was supposed to be sleeping, as per Mycroft's instructions but he was never one to listen. He couldn't help but peek out of his covers to gain secret glances at the angel sat by him. His angel. He actually had an angel now, and the angel seemed to like him?
Well, Greg supposed that liking your human was one of the major factors of being a guardian angel in the first place. Maybe it was all an act? Perhaps Mycroft secretly resented him? Maybe he'd been sent to him out of pity?
Greg frowned, not liking that thought at all. He glanced out at his angel again, as secretively as he could muster. Mycroft's feathers were as ginger as his set of bright copper hair. Some of the downy feathers were tinted with grey, as though he were a lot older than he appeared. It was probable that Mycroft was a few thousand years old.
That's quite an age gap, Greg thought, doesn't make him any less gorgeous though. This could be…problematic.
It was the sound of Mycroft's stomach growling that made Greg break his cover. He laughed and tugged his covers further down so that his face was fully revealed.
Mycroft tugged at his suit awkwardly. "I believe that I'm hungry. Apologies. It's been quite a while since I've lived in this form."
"I can make you something to eat, if you like."
"Beef Wellington?"
Greg snorted. "You won't find that kind of posh food around here. How does beans on toast sound?"
"It sounds…acceptable."
Greg grinned. "Come on then, you posh git, let's get you something to eat."
Mycroft looked positively mortified. The angel was clearly unused to being a guardian angel to such a young, reckless teen.
Mycroft looked beautiful when he was up in the sky flying, his wings stretched out behind him gracefully. When the summer holidays hit Greg often just lay out in his back yard watching his angel performing swoops and swerves.
The angel he was currently looking at was a complete contrast to the one that he watched flying. He was lazing on his back under the sun, cheeks slightly flushed because of the unusual English heat, and stomach poking out of his trousers.
Since becoming Greg's guardian angel Mycroft had been mainly living off junk food. Unlike the teenager it turned out that a couple of hundred years of being away from human food was finally catching up with him. His metabolism was clearly not coping with the intake of pizza, takeaways, and daily doses of Mrs Lestrade's cakes.
Greg's growing attraction towards Mycroft's appearance was a growing concern. He kept on repeating in his head that angel relationships were forbidden, and that if he acted upon his growing feelings, he would not only lose his angel but they could both be executed for such crimes. Still…that belly was growing, and with it Greg began to feel more inclined to grab it or snuggle up against the red winged angel.
"So, Chinese tonight, yeh?" Greg murmured softly. He tried not to stare at Mycroft as he waited for an answer.
The angel murmured a lazy reply. "Mmm. Anything you want. I'm quite content with the beef and mushroom dish I tried last week. The rice was fairly enjoyable too."
There was no denying it. Mycroft was fat. Not chubby, nor plump, but fat and portly. He still acted as though he was the thin, angled angel that Greg had first met after the 'Sherlock' incident. Everything about the angel these days was rounder, even his wings seemed to have thickened, along with the man's waist.
Mycroft was in the garden flapping his wings wildly, though little good it did him. Greg was muffling laughter behind his hand.
"You know, I don't think that's going to work. You're a bit too…heavy? I don't know much about flying but I gather it becomes a bit, well, impossible once you gain a few."
The poor angel was mortified. He flushed an undignified red and tugged at his far too small shirt. (Greg really ought to go out and buy his angel some new clothes.) "You're right Gregory. I should probably try and lose this." He grabbed a fistful of his stomach and pulled a disgusted face.
Greg laughed again and walked over to Mycroft. "You're an idiot, you know that?"
"I suppose I am. I should have considered going on a diet after the first few pounds."
"I think you look fine." More than fine actually but that was beside the point. Mycroft had looked incredibly appetising ever since his belly had first shown an appearance.
"Oh." Mycroft's eyes rested on Greg. The stare felt uncomfortable, like he was staring right into the teen's soul.
"Why do I suddenly get the feeling that I'm under interrogation?"
"You have feelings towards me. Or rather lust filled inclinations." Mycroft frowned. "Did you plan to fatten me up?"
"Woah, nope, I'm not taking the full blame here mister. You could quite easily go out and buy your own food, you know." Greg pointed out. Mycroft's wings twitched and he looked down at the ground in shame. It looked like Mycroft wasn't going to say anything any time soon, so Greg intervened. "Look, I kinda do like you. More than like really. I don't really like pinning my emotions under one single label so… I can't really say what I feel, but it's not just lust filled inclinations."
"I feel something too." Mycroft murmured. It was a little shocking considering the angel was usually so closed off about his emotions and anything that involved 'sentiment'. "My feelings aren't healthy…they could cause us harm."
"No one has to know." Greg whispered. "This is can be our secret. And we don't have to…have sex." Mycroft blanched at that. "Really, honestly, sex is great and that but I'd much rather just be by your side. You look great, softer than you were when we met. Maybe we could start with a hug?"
If possible Mycroft turned an even darker shade of red. "You wish to initiate a relationship with me?"
"That's kinda what I thought we were getting at, yeh." Greg edged a little closer to Mycroft and opened up his arms, gesturing a hug. Mycroft entered the embrace cautiously and found himself being hugged tightly. Greg ran a hand down Mycroft's belly and murmured soft praise to him. His angel was perfect just the way he was. The sooner he realised that the better.