Alfred had always been very liberal with his personal information in his rise to stardom. Whenever he had an interview in a magazine or went on TV, he wanted to seem like a genuine human being – someone his fans could connect with because he didn't seem any different to the people watching the show at home. He may be Hollywood's newest golden boy (according to the articles, anyway) but he still felt like the Kansas farm boy he'd been as a kid.

So when TV chat show host Emma Peeters asked what time it read on his soul mate clock, Alfred had told her the truth.

"I'm meeting my soul mate on June 23rd, 2014. Sixteen hours, sixteen minutes and fifty-two seconds past midnight," he'd said with a brilliant smile on his face. He held up his hand proudly, showing off the simple clock face embedded into his wrist where the pulse beat firmly.

Emma checked her own watch hopefully, scowling theatrically when she realised her own time was not compatible. "Aww, I guess we're not soul mates then," she laughed. "But maybe one of your fans watching this interview has the same time on their clock! Lucky bastard!" Alfred laughed, blushing modestly, and they continued chatting about his latest movie, all talk of the soul mate clock forgotten.

But once they'd finished up the interview and the cameras were off, Emma turned to Alfred with a raised eyebrow, looking impressed. "You're very brave for revealing the time on your clock," she remarked. "Celebrities don't usually want to announce it in public."

"Why not?" asked Alfred, perplexed.

"Well, the celebrities who reveal their time in public usually end up in a huge mess," said the reporter, eyebrows scrunched in pity. "Anyone in the world who has the same time on their clock will come flocking, all fighting to try and be the first one you see so they get the rich and famous soul mate. And then there's the stalker fans who come and hunt you down even if they have a different time on their clock! They're so obsessed with their favourite celebrity they don't care if they have the wrong time, they just want to be with you!" Emma leaned forward and added in a dark whisper, "Some of them even get their watches surgically removed or altered so the celebrity thinks they might be their real soul mate!"

Alfred was horrified, and a sense of dread settled over him as he realised what he might have let himself into.

But by the time he'd gotten home from the interview, he'd convinced himself that Emma's stories were just a scary myth. Maybe it had happened once or twice in the past when a fan who was really insane had tried to cause trouble, but it couldn't always be like that. And Alfred's fans were nice, normal people – he was sure none of them would try and force or trick him into thinking they were soul mates.

Of course, this was before Alfred had became an international superstar. By the time his clock was due to run down, he had an army of fans from around the world, of all levels of crazy. And as much as he appreciated their support, no matter how weird they could be, he definitely regretted announcing his clock's time.

Because people had started to camp outside his house in L.A. a good two weeks before his clock ran out. They'd turned up with tents, sleeping in the street just to be near him, hoping to catch his eye when the time came. It got so bad that he'd had to fly out to his parents' house in the Kansas, yet they managed to track him down here, too!

In the end, his publicist Kiku had recommended that he escape somewhere unexpected, somewhere he had no ties at all so even the fans who knew his favourite hotels wouldn't be able to find him. He'd ended up in London, for no other reason than that it had been the first international flight he could snatch up.

And still the fans had managed to find him!

On June 23rd, the day his clock would run out, Alfred woke up to find the hallway outside his hotel room swarmed with fans. He knew they weren't trying to be threatening, but it was still intimidating being stalked by a whole crowd of hopeful soul mates, and he just couldn't face leaving the room. Not that he'd have been able to get too far: news of his hiding place must have spread online, and people were showing up from miles around to seek him out. The hotel was swamped, and nobody could get in or out.

It was 4:14, just two minutes away from the time Alfred was supposed to meet his soul mate, and all he could do was curl up on the bed and feel hope slipping away. He was trapped in his hotel room, and he'd never meet his one true love. What on earth would he do if he couldn't find his soul mate and they moved on without him?

A sharp knock hammered on Alfred's hotel door, and he groaned.

"Go away!" he called miserably, voice barely audible over the clamour outside his room.

"Mr. Jones? This is the police. If you'll open the door a crack I can pass you my badge."

Alfred jumped up and dashed to the door. Peering out the peep hole he saw a blurry blonde figure in a dark uniform, surrounded by moving figures all cramming to get close to the door in the hopes that Alfred would come out.

The actor opened the door the merest inch, and an authentic looking police badge was passed through the gap.

"We're clearing your hallway and are working on the rest of the floor," said the firm, deliciously English voice of the policeman. "It will take a while to vacate the lobby and the area outside, but we're working on it. I won't ask to come in, but if you feel threatened and would like any support inside the room, I'll be guarding your door."

"IT'S TIME!"

Suddenly the door swung open – still ajar from when Alfred had taken the police badge – and an impossible number of faces swam before him as a hoard of fans surged forwards.

But Alfred barely saw them, as his eyes flicked instantly to the surprised looking Englishman standing right in the centre of the crowd. The policeman's bright green eyes were wide with shock for a moment, taken aback by the screaming and shoving of the mob of fans, but he quickly recovered, turning his back on Alfred and throwing his arms out to keep the crowd at bay.

"Stay back! Have some decency!" he exclaimed angrily, as if personally insulted that they were being so impolite.

But the crowd had miraculously grown silent, still as a painting as every pair of eyes turned to Alfred as he peeled the dead clock off the skin of his wrist.

"Who is it?" someone whispered, and a murmur swept the crowd as everyone checked their own watches.

"What on earth – oh!"

Alfred looked up, eyes shining with hope and relief as the policeman folded back the sleeve of his jumper and a clock fell out on to the floor.

He stared at the white patch of skin on his wrist and then looked up to meet Alfred's gaze. "I…I don't believe – "

"How dare you!"

"You did this on purpose!"

"He's probably not even a real policeman!"

"He tricked Alfred!"

"Get him!"

Alfred saw the danger just in time, grabbing the policeman's arm and yanking him inside the hotel room, slamming the door shut just in time to save the Englishman from the clutches of a furious mob of heartbroken fans.

"Sorry," he said, trying to sound sincere but barely able to keep the eager beam of excitement off his face. "They looked pretty annoyed. You'd better stay in here until your back up arrives."

The policeman blushed, eyes still gazing down, disbelievingly, at the empty space on his wrist where the clock had once been. "Yes…well…thank you, um…"

"Alfred. F. Jones."

The policeman finally looked up and their eyes met again.

"Arthur Kirkland. It's so good to meet you, Alfred." His eyes sparkled with a hope and anticipation Alfred was sure were mirrored in his own, as a slow smile spread on the Englishman's face. "Finally."

A/N: Written for the 365daysofusuk drabbled calendar on tumblr. Posted on June 23rd, 2014.

I love celebrity!Alfred, and I love soulmate AUs. Naturally, I had to put them together. (I have some more in my head that I'd like to get down some day but it's basically just more of the same - super indulgent USUK soulmate fluff, with paparazzi cameras in the background.)