Whoo! I've been super excited about starting this story! I've had the idea stuck in my head forever. I hope that you enjoy it! I own nothing.
Chapter One
All that Arthur wanted when he got home to his apartment was to be able to relax and enjoy his favorite book "The Complete Works of Shakespeare" while sipping some Earl Grey and lounge on the couch comfortably with his hand-knit blanket (no laughing!). Really, it was all he wanted. Was that really too much to ask for? It apparently was. As soon as Arthur unlocked and opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of his roommate's tan back. Now this wouldn't normally be a problem, because Arthur was used to Alfred running around the house in varies levels of coverage, but today was special, because Alfred was currently sporting two large magnificent wings jutting from his shoulder blades, the feathers all sorts of shades of brown, vibrant and shining in the light shed by the window on their living room's left wall. Alfred was standing in front of a full length mirror hanging on the wall by the couch near the corner where the left wall met the living room's back wall, and they caught each other's surprised faces in its reflection. So instead of falling asleep contentedly on the couch, Arthur found himself passed out from shock on the cold concrete in front of his apartment door.
Alfred woke up just the way he did every day. He woke completely cocooned in his blankets like a nest, and curled up in a ball, though he clearly remembered falling asleep perfectly normal on his stomach, his arms curled comfortably under his pillow. He blinked is eyes lazily, trying to make sense of how to get out of his covers in his still sleep fogged brain. After finally clawing his way out, and having an unwelcome and painful visit with the floor, Alfred managed to untangle himself. He looked over at the clock on his night stand beside his bed after he had located his glasses, and the glowing blue lights told him it was about three in the afternoon. He yawned and stretched, looking about his room. Clothes littered the carpeted floors and his bed was a complete mess, considering that he just rolled out of it. His walls were tapped with all sorts of posters of different movies, superheroes, and bands that Alfred liked, as well as photos of him and his friends stuck in the edges of the mirror attached to his dresser. Alfred figured that since he was in college, he could afford to still be messy, at least until he got a place of his own. At the moment, he shared an apartment with one of his friends since childhood, Arthur Kirkland. Arthur liked to bicker and nag, but that was really just his way of caring. Once they figured out that they were going to the same college, they worked out getting an apartment together to cut on living expenses.
The deal worked out great, all things considered. It was just that they had to actually live together that sometimes caused problems. Were as Arthur was a bit of a neat freak, Alfred liked to just dump his stuff where ever he felt like it. Arthur loved to drink tea, but Alfred hated the stuff, and always made coffee, which Arthur equally detested. Alfred's classes were at night, so he slept through the morning, and got up in the afternoon to do whatever he wanted before his classes started later. Arthur's classes were in the morning, so he went to bed early and got up early as well. They only got to see each other on weekends, that is, if their sleep patterns weren't so screwed up that they were each sleeping when the other was awake. They both had completely different majors. Arthur was into creative writing and journalism, and Alfred was working on being an astrologist. To top it off, Arthur also worked as an intern at a local newspaper firm, so after his classes ended around lunch, he was peeling off for his work in order to make it on time. Alfred's part time job was at a local comic book store, which he worked at in the afternoons before his classes started, and didn't work on Saturdays or Sundays. He had been going there ever since he was little, and it was almost a dream to be able to work there while he was at college. It really helped that one of his best friends and his family owned the store, the liveliest bunch of people Alfred had ever seen. The only one that seemed to be normal was his friend Kiku. The only thing that bugged him was that sometimes he didn't get along with the customers, because they were just so disrespectful of the merchandise, and didn't understand their true value and beauty! Stupid punks were always coming in the store and trying to pick fights with him. He only got along with the really dedicated and 'nerdy' comic book fans.
Alfred picked out what he was going to wear for the day from his dresser drawers. He knew if they were clean, they would be in the dresser, as only dirty clothes ever littered his floors. He picked out a pair of Levi's and his awesome Gryffindor shirt. It had even came with a tie when he bought it from Hot Topic. He thought that was cool. He slipped into a nice, steaming hot shower provided by the bathroom attached to his room. Both his and Arthur's room, which was directly across from his, had bathrooms connected to them. The room layouts were practically the same except flipped, and of course the content was different as well, due to the drastically different decorating styles of the two men. And Alfred's room had a window. Alfred totally claimed his room simply because it was the one with the window. Arthur always complained that Alfred hogged the hot water, but he really couldn't help it. It was the weekend, and he had classes off, so he wasn't in a rush, and just stood there and enjoyed the spray, his eyes sliding closed. Arthur wouldn't be back for a few hours, he figured, so he could do whatever he wanted. Even if Arthur didn't have classes on weekends, he still had to work, except for Sunday. Totally awesome.
It was then that he felt it; an odd jolting, tingling sensation creeping up and down his spine. His eyebrows furrowed and he felt an intense sensation on his shoulder blades, like an itch. It felt extremely irritating, and he cursed as he clawed at his back, trying to relieve the discomfort. It didn't really hurt, it was just so excruciatingly annoying. Like someone was tickling his muscles underneath his skin, along with the sensation of a mosquito bite that you had just scratched once and then left alone, letting the itching grow unbearable. He could feel some pain as his nails dug into his back, but he couldn't really find himself in the right mind to care. And then, suddenly, there was a feeling of something sliding out of his back, and the sensation was relieved immediately. Alfred sighted in pure rapture as his arms fell limply to his sides. He was so glad that experience was over. He hummed, and got a washcloth to rub over his back to see what kind of damage that he had done with his nails when he was scratching. When he reached back there, however, his fingertips just barely grazed something that didn't feel right. He craned his neck in an attempt to look over his shoulder, and his eyes widened.
"What the hell?" He choked, seeing the blurry outline of wings in his peripheral vision, protruding from his shoulder blades. He quickly scrambled out of the shower, pushing the curtains aside violently as he reached for his glasses beside the sink and looked in the bathroom mirror. I stood, dumbfounded and blinking, at the sight of him with these large wings with all different shades of brown feathers. Gradually, as Alfred stared, his vision started to blur, and his head and eyes hurt as he stared through his glasses. Cursing, he took them off, and his vision was cleared.
"What- huh?" He murmured to himself. He'd always needed glasses, ever since he was a kid. And now suddenly his vision was correcting itself? Though Alfred didn't know it, his vision sharpened even beyond normal human eyesight. His sight could be compared to a hawk's now. A shining ring of amber-gold melted and stained is irises around his pupils, so his eyes looked like the sky with an eclipse in it. Instead of keeping in his room like he should have, as he really had no clue when Arthur could get back from his work, as his hours were quite unpredictable, he rushed into the living room after throwing on some boxers, feet pounding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway and living room. At least he had enough sense to remember those. He stepped in front of the full-length mirror and stood, staring. A long time seemed to pass as his mind tried to comprehend just what had happened to him. When he finally seemed to snap out of it, he realized that he probably shouldn't be standing in the living room like this, with the wings on his back fluttering nervously, feathers ruffled as if they were attuned to Alfred's feelings and were physically showing his distress.
It was just as this thought crossed his mind that he heard the front door unlocking and opening. He stared at the door's reflection in mild horror as Arthur's familiar figure stepped into the living room. His head turned and acid green eyes immediately honed in to those large wings. They each locked fixated stares on each other's shocked faces. They stood, frozen in time, for what seemed to be an eternity, though it was only about a minute or two. Alfred could see Arthur's eyes start to roll up and knew he was going to fall. Alfred felt his wings coil instinctually as he leapt forward to try and catch Arthur before he fell and hurt himself on the hard concrete in front of their apartment door, where he could easily crack his skull. He shot forward, an extra boost being gained from stepping and leaping off their coffee table that was in front of their couch and was in his way. His wings stretched out, almost hitting their TV off its stand on the wall beside the door, centered nicely in front of the coffee table and couch. His wings pumped down a single time, powerfully, giving him a powerful surge of momentum that allowed him to reach his arms out and catch Arthur before he hit the ground. Alfred let out a grunt as he hit the floor, painfully landing on his side as he tried to angle himself so that Arthur wouldn't be the first to touch the ground. Luckily, his wings bent up against his back just in time not to be crushed or to bang against the door frame.
His ears pounded as the adrenaline shot through him. He could feel the calling, the tugging in his mind, his wings begging to be used again. Now that he had used them, it seemed like a drug, only making him want more. He lifted Arthur up off the floor easily and laid him on the couch. He just felt positively invigorated, and he was surprised he wasn't hovering off the floor with the way his wings were shifting and fluttering on his back, stirring the air around him. Alfred couldn't help but relate it to the sight of two over-excited children. With a fool-hardy determination, he went back to his room to pull on his jeans before crossing back through the living room to the door. He stuck his head out cautiously and looked around the deserted hallway. To the left of their door, down the hall was the stairwell leading down to the ground level from their floor, which was the seventh and top floor. The place was a bit older, so it didn't have an elevator. To the right was a small balcony with a tiny little iron guardrail as the only protection from the long fall to the street below. His and Arthur's was the last apartment on the floor. There were six apartments on each floor, besides the ground floor which was the lobby, three on one side of the hall and three on the other.
Alfred could feel his heart pumping as wildly as his wings as he cautiously closed the door behind him and moved to the guardrail, which barely reached his waist. He really wasn't thinking straight as he gripped the rail firmly and brought his feet up on the rail one at a time to perch on it much like a bird of prey. He couldn't ignore the intense calling, the fantastic instinct of 'I need to get up in the air now.' His wings pumped even as he surveyed the streets below. No one was even bothering to look up from their own lives down on the busy streets. In this city, everyone kept their head down and minded their own business. With one last second, Alfred steeled his nerve and felt his wings coiling and flapping harder in anticipation. He took a deep breath, which really did nothing to calm him, and he leapt upward in a powerful burst, his wings catching the winds beneath them and riding them like invisible cables. It felt... God, it just felt amazing! Alfred soared higher, feeling his blood singing. He felt right. He was where he should be. He soared over buildings and weaved around skyscrapers. He shot like an arrow towards a skyscraper before pulling up quickly to trail up its reflective window-covered side, climbing higher and higher until he reached the top and landed, clinging to the spire and sighing with content.
Alfred only then noticed the birds that had started to flock around him. Alfred shooed them away in annoyance before lifting off again and flying back to the apartment, finding it easy to navigate and tell which direction he was supposed to go. He looked down, wondering if anyone had noticed him. But he was so high up, that no one could possibly see him clearly at this distance. He might have even just looked like a large bird from up here. Even so, his eyes honed in on the ground, like how an eagle looking for its prey would. He found that he could make out everything on the streets distinctly, and see the people, the crowds, the cars all easily. It amazed him, just how he could see it all. He had worn glasses practically his whole life. It almost overwhelmed him, but he focused back on flying and the sensation of it swept it away. He quickly darted onto the balcony of the seventh floor of his apartment and into the hallway like the arrow fired from an expert marksman, his wingspan shrinking as his wings folded so that they wouldn't hit the sides of the building. He landed in a crouching position on the hallway floor, wings tucked and folded on his back. All of these things he did on instinct, as if something deep inside him just took over. He knew that he probably would have screwed up flying so badly if his wings didn't know what to do for him before he had to waste time thinking about his next actions.
Alfred only then remembered that Arthur was passed out on the couch, and would probably be freaked out if he woke up to find the apartment empty. He quickly entered the apartment to find Arthur starting to groan and move on the couch, waking up from his faint. Alfred shut the door behind him and walked up to Arthur on the couch, crouching down so that they would be eye level if he rolled over to face him. Alfred couldn't erase the wide, cheeky grin splitting his face open as he balanced on the balls of his bare feet. Arthur finally rolled over to face him, starting a little to find Alfred right there in front of his face. His eyes slid onto his wings almost immediately, and he sputtered and tried to find something to say. When he finally found words, Arthur did the only thing that he could do in this situation. Complain and fuss.
"Alfred! You git! You better not shed those bloody feathers over the whole damn apartment! Because i know that you haven't cleaned up after yourself a day in your life! Sweet flying mint bunny, what the hell did you do now?" Arthur yelled and huffed. Alfred's smile never wavered from his face.
"Why don't I make you some tea?" Alfred offered, and Arthur flopped back on the couch and groaned, simply laying there and draping his arm over his eyes. Alfred crossed the living room and went through the arch way into the kitchen, the tiles cold on Alfred's bare feet. There was a small island, a lone row of cabinets and counter on the far wall with a refrigerator in the corner with a dishwasher beside it. The stove was in the other corner, and a sink was in the middle. There were some stools set up at the island, but the two men mostly ate out. The only one that could even attempt to cook was Alfred, because anything that Arthur tried to cook turned out inedible and burnt beyond recognition. Alfred could cook as long as he had a recipe to follow, or was making sandwiches. He really did best at grilling, but as they neither had a grill nor the space for it, he really never had a chance to make any grilled food. Which was a shame because his burgers were to die for. He had to settle for using the stove and pan to cook burgers whenever they bought hamburger meat. The only thing that Arthur could make with any level of proficiency was tea. Though, Alfred wouldn't really know, since he hated the stuff and didn't know how it was supposed to taste in the first place. The only reason Alfred knew how to make tea was so that he could do it whenever he needed to calm Arthur down, such as right now.
He moved about the kitchen fluidly, wanting to make the tea as quickly as possible. He worked quietly and started to wonder if his wings were retractable and how he would ever be able to hide them if the things weren't. His wings, when folded, arched up to the level of the top of Alfred's head, and then the longest feathers reached all the way down to Alfred's mid-calf. His wingspan was almost the length of the kitchen. There was just no way he could hide them underneath a shirt. But, thankfully, he realized he didn't have to worry, because as soon as he started to freak out over it, his wings started to retract like a cat's claws and slid right back into his back, completely in tune with Alfred's wishes. They were already much like his other limbs, moving as he wished, except more awesome and also having instincts of their own. He wondered how that even worked, his wings fitting into his back like that. But he figured not to worry about it. They were out of the way, and that was really all that mattered at this point. He couldn't help but notice that it felt weird, though. It just felt so restricting... like clothing that was too small, suffocating him. It was really annoying. He couldn't help but compare it to the thought of a woman wearing a bra that was too small for her, or something like a sports bra, that squished the girl's boobs so they wouldn't move.
He chuckled at his metaphor, thinking of the sensitive and sweet lady that he worked out with at the gym on Sundays. He had helped the poor, flustered woman figure out how to use one of the treadmills, for which she had thanked him profusely, before the two started a slightly awkward friendship. But Alfred couldn't help himself at wanting to help the woman out. She always seemed so clumsy and was always teary-eyed over something. What kind of hero would he be if he just left her high and dry? So, the two had started to work out together, if only so Alfred could make sure the other woman didn't hurt herself. She had some sort of weird name that was from a foreign language, Russian if Alfred remembered correctly, so he just called her Kat for short. She had a bad habit of calling him Alfie, which just made him sound like a little kid, because she just seemed to go into mother mode at Alfred's sometimes childish enthusiasm and behavior. It wasn't so bad though, because the only time she didn't seem like she was about to cry was when she was gushing at him.
The shrill cry of the kettle on the stove startled Alfred out of his musings, and he started to finish up fixing the tea for Arthur. His mind really drifted when he wasn't focusing on something. He carried the tea cup carefully to the living room, where Arthur was in the same position on the couch as Alfred had left him. He set the cup on down on the coffee table and then pushed Arthur's legs out of the way so that he could sit down on the couch as well. Arthur drew his knees up to make room, and an awkward silence fell upon them.
"So, Francis hasn't been fired for inappropriate conduct yet?" Alfred asked. He could see the corners of Arthur's mouth twitch as he smiled for the briefest moments.
"Unfortunately, no. He was being especially annoying today, too. Was constantly talking about how his love advice column was so much more popular than my reviews on museum exhibits."
"Well, it is more interesting to read," Alfred confessed light-heartedly. Arthur sat up to glare at Alfred, and Alfred could tell he was scanning his back for anything out of the ordinary. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he moved into a normal sitting position on the couch and reached to take his tea from the coffee table to drink. Alfred was tempted to ask if his back looked odd, since his wings were now retracted inside of it, but he refrained, as he didn't want to risk freaking his friend out again. After all, he was going to have to trust Arthur to keep quiet about this.
"You went out after I passed out," It wasn't a question, but a statement, "You looked completely disheveled. It was quite obvious what you had been up to. I'll have you know that flying around is extremely dangerous and you're a bloody idiot for going out there! What if someone saw you?" Arthur's voice steadily rose in volume as he continued to talk. Arguing was really the only way that Arthur was going to be able to cope with this, so even though he looked angry, Alfred didn't really take it to heart. He knew how to handle the Brit's quirks after being friends with him for practically twelve years. They were both ten and in elementary school when they had first met.
"I really couldn't help it. It was like the sky was calling out to me. It felt like home up there," Alfred responded wistfully. It could really only be compared to a mother calling her child from playing outside. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.
"Yes, well, refrain from doing so until you find a way to do it safely without someone catching you, at least. There are plenty of crazy, lunatic journalists that would love to be the one to get the chance to report on this. I would know, as I seem to work with practically all of them." At this information, Alfred's smile turned sheepish as he stared at Arthur, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and through the hair at his nape.
"You, um... you won't... report me or anything... will you? I mean, who knows what they'll do to me!" He spoke.
"Alfred."
"They'll turn me into a government experiment!"
"Alfred."
"They'll be cutting me open, and shooting me up with drugs, and-"
"ALFRED! Calm down! You honestly think that I would do that? And how long have we know each other?" Arthur scolded him.
"Hey, I gotta make sure. Cover all my bases, and stuff." Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn't really seem too bothered. He was used to Alfred's quirks just as much as Alfred was used to his.
"Well, just belt up and keep your nose clean, and you'll be alright," Arthur's large eyebrows then furrowed as he looked at Alfred, "Your eyes. They're two colors now? You're going to need to wear colored contacts to correct that and make your eyes look normal."
"I don't even need my glasses anymore either!" Alfred told Arthur excitedly, "In fact, I think I have super sight. I can see things clearly even from way far away. I know because I could see people walking on the streets clearly even when I was up in the air flying." Arthur seemed to turn a little green. It was no secret that Arthur hated flying about as much as Alfred hated sailing. Neither of them could do it without becoming violently ill. It was very ironic that Alfred loved to fly, and Arthur loved to sail. Arthur's expression then turned thoughtful.
"You must have adopted traits from birds of prey. Hawks have extremely good sight. You really should look these things up so you'll be prepared. And you might want to get some non-prescription, decorative glasses so no one will get suspicious that you suddenly are wearing contacts or something. Lord knows how you always complained whenever you wore them." Alfred's face lit up like a child at Christmas.
"What would I do without you Artie! You're the best! Are you going to keep tabs on your reporter friends for me like a spy? You can be my side-kick, Artie!" Arthur's eye twitched, both at the statement and the nickname.
"I told you not to call me that. And I'm not your bloody side-kick! I'm doing this for you because you're my friend. Ugh, I can't believe you forced me to say that out loud. But... I guess I'll keep my eyes open. This is probably the only time that I will ever be glad to have my desk near Francis's. He's the biggest gossip in the whole building. I'll know if anything comes up." Alfred bounced up and down on the couch happily and was about to pounce on Arthur to hug him, if not for Arthur raising his tea cup threateningly. Alfred knew that Arthur would never throw one of his precious tea cups, but Alfred humored him and backed off. It was all good fun.
"So," Alfred spoke up, "I guess the next logical course of action is for me to use my newfound powers for justice and fight crime!" Arthur spat out the tea he was drinking and coughed loudly.
"WHAT? Are you completely mad? You should be laying low and trying not to draw attention to yourself! You aren't some comic book character, Alfred. I know that this must seem like some golden opportunity, or whatever, to become just like the superheroes I know that you idolize, but think things through logically for once in your life!" Arthur ranted.
"Don't worry Arthur, I'll figure everything out. Just keep up everything on your end, ok? I'll take care of the rest," Alfred replied in a tone that, though was light-hearted, still left the feeling that there was no room for argument. Arthur, having known Alfred for as long as he did, knew when Alfred could be pressed to do something, and when Alfred wouldn't back down. This was one of those times, he felt, when Alfred would stand firm as a statue for his belief. He let out a deep sigh.
"Just promise you'll be careful. Just try to be careful. I know I can't stop you from engaging in any reckless behavior, and how unbelievably impulsive you are, but just be careful." And with that, Arthur stood and took his now empty cup to the kitchen.
"Thanks Artie," Alfred spoke softly. Alfred got up as well and headed back into his room. He was about to continue dressing, but thought better of it and gave up the idea in favor of changing into some sweat pants and a work out shirt. He knew that he normally didn't work out on Saturdays and went Sunday, but he really felt like he needed the workout to clear his head and to work out all of the energy he suddenly felt like he had to get rid of. He pulled on some socks and a pair of running shoes, grabbed up his cell phone and his extra key to the apartment before shoving them in the pockets in his sweats (yes, they had pockets, isn't that so awesome?) and prepared to head out. Seeing Alfred leave had only caused Arthur to look at him blankly, then raise a singly eyebrow, before simply just shaking his head and not saying anything. Alfred stepped out and shut the door firmly behind him.
That was the first chapter! Any reviews are greatly appreciated! I like knowing what you think about the story! So please, do try to give me feedback and what you liked about it. It really helps, I promise!