It's Spazzkitty again, the author who matches with every color except chartreuse! This is my tenth fanfic! YAY DOUBLE DIGITS! This concept was invented on a whim, and written on a whim. Likewise, it'll probably be updated on a whim. This was written because xcorkx found the concept hilarious and begged me to write it. BASK IN THE GLORY! Oh yeah. Insert standard disclaimer here, Kthx.
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Poltergeist
Chapter 1
Arthur had gotten detention. Again. Whenever he was sent to detention, to drab, unclean, smelling-slightly-of-cheese room 58, the principal always tried to sugar-coat it. Euphemize it.
"Mr. Kirkland, you'll have to report to room 58 again after school today. What? Detention? Heavens no, lad. For an outstanding student such as yourself? Mr. Blatbur-" He was the detention teacher "-just needs an extra pair of hands to help organize the bookshelf he has in the back of his room."
As if. Blatbur was notorious for being as neat as a pin, (something England admired, as he himself was almost unhealthily organized) and the books had been in alphabetical order (and by edition within that frame) since probably the beginning of time. The principal was aware that Arthur knew the truth, but continued to try to convince the boy he wasn't being punished and going to detention. It was pretty obvious why.
Arthur was not only valedictorian, but the senior class president and a member of the peer tutoring program. It would look bad for the school if one of their best students was put into detention for his weird occult-like behavior, and Arthur's strange actions often qualified as both weird and occult-like.
Today's after-school torture session was instigated because Arthur had spray-painted a gigantic spirit-summoning symbol on the cafeteria floor. The day before, he had put salt all over the entryways of the school as an effort to keep out demons. And the day before that he had planted a ring of mushrooms in front of the school, claiming he wanted to form a fairy circle and summon the 'small folk' to bring luck to the school for the upcoming field day.
Arthur groaned, sitting slumped in his chair, tapping his fingers idly against the desk. When the bell rang, what seemed like an eternity later, he grabbed his bag and all but ran out of the room. He knew that he should probably stop trying to summon the spirits in the world (He was positive they existed), but he couldn't help it. It was his dream in life to see something supernatural and real. So far, he was eighteen, and he hadn't seen anything qualifying as supernatural. The closest he'd ever gotten was his classmate Gilbert, the red-eyed albino, who he was pretty sure shared some DNA with the devil. The guy had been to Juvenile Hall at least three times. He sighed wistfully, inserting the key into his front door and opening it.
"I'm home," he announced to nobody in particular. The small apartment was eerily quiet, as usual. He sighed again, this time in mild frustration, thumping his bag onto the small table in the kitchenette. Arthur lived alone with his younger brother, so he didn't know why he was so upset by the silence. Probably because when his parents were alive, their cozy home had always been loud and cheerful. He bit his lip, forcing back the memories, and rifled through his messenger bag for his math homework. Grabbing a chewed pencil as well, he brought his sheet to his bedroom to do the work at his desk. Once he opened the door, he stopped dead. Somebody was in his room.
The figure was lying on his bed, sprawled ungracefully on his stomach, flipping through a magazine listlessly. His blue eyes shot up to look at the gaping student when he uttered a choked-sounding squeak of shock, and a small smile quirked his mouth.
"You're a weird one, aren't you?" The blue-eyed boy said casually, as if invading people's homes was something he did often. "I look under your bed for some magazines, and you don't have anything even mildly perverted. All you have is a guide for the breeding and care of unicorns. You do know they're not real, don't you?"
"They are real, thank you very much," Arthur said without thinking. God, was everyone a nonbeliever? "Who the hell are you?"
"Alfred," the other boy said, turning his blue-eyed gaze back to Unicorns Monthly.
"Alfred what?"
"Jones." He flipped a page and chuckled. "Unicorns need a daily bath in the dust of one thousand rainbows? This is crap."
"What are you doing in my house?" he snapped. He would never say it, but he was more than a little offended by Alfred's tactless review of his magazine.
"You're the one who summoned me," Alfred said, not looking up.
"Excuse me?" Alfred heaved a sigh and put the magazine down, shifting position so he was sitting and facing Arthur. The other boy found it a little unnerving looking directly into his unreadable sapphire eyes.
"You made a summoning circle. In pink spray-paint, I may add. It was the most unmanly thing I've ever seen, and you made it quite sloppily. Next time, get a ruler. All your symbols sloped downwards, and you forgot the third figure in the fourth sequence. But it was good enough to work. So here I am… your own personal poltergeist." He paused for dramatic effect.
"You really expect me to believe that you're a ghost?" Arthur said skeptically.
"Look at me, then," challenged Alfred. "Take a good look at me and tell me I'm not a ghost."
Arthur rolled his eyes, but took a good look at Alfred. The first thing he noticed was that Alfred was actually pretty handsome. He had ruffled blonde hair and glasses resting precariously on the bridge of his nose, like windows to his gorgeous blue eyes. The second thing that came to his attention was that Alfred was slightly transparent. He looked normal at a glance, but when you examined him critically, you could see the Union Jack bedspread through his brown bomber jacket. Arthur's mouth dropped open slightly, which caused the other blonde to smirk.
"Do you believe me now?"
"I… I, um…" he stammered, brain working feverishly for a reasonable explanation. He couldn't find one.
"You, um, think I'm right and incredibly awesome?" Alfred supplied eagerly.
"…I'm surprised you haven't broken my bed with the weight of your enormous ego."
"Ouch," winced Alfred. "Lose your tiara, Ice Princess?"
"Do me a favor and leave my house," the British teen snapped in reply. That made Alfred cackle.
"Sorry, Princess, but you summoned me. And I don't plan on leaving any time soon." Arthur glowered, which caused Alfred to cock his head to one side and look curiously at him. "You know, you're kinda cute when you're mad."
"Excuse me?" He snapped, his face flushing red.
"You're cute," he said again, beginning to grin. "I hadn't noticed before."
"Leave or else," he tried again, the uncertainty in his words evident. Both boys knew that there was really no threat he could follow through on. The poltergeist smirked hugely.
"I don't think so. I'm beginning to enjoy my new room and my cute new roommate. I have a feeling you and I are going to get along fantastically."
Arthur growled, low in his throat and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Alfred chuckled, turning back to the magazine.
"Wow, that guy needs to get laid. Now where was I? Oh yeah. 'Frolicking in the Flowers: How to Exercise Your Winged Wonder'. …He really does need to get laid."