a·late- verb, English.
Having wings, lifted up in flight
"Francis has angel's wings. They crinkle at the corners of his eyes when he laughs and spread full span when he smiles."
"Oh, Amérique..." Francis uttered through his chuckles, brushing his hair away from his face. "You always know how to make my day!" Alfred loved making Francis laugh and smile like this. The way the wrinkles sat next to his sky-blue eyes were enticing. It always amazed Alfred how they ever so slightly graced his already-flawless features. It was true, his angel wings were Alfred's favorite part about Francis.
"Alfred likes them, and thinks they make him look more elegant than he already is. He strokes them when they kiss and feels them flutter when Francis blinks."
Francis broke the kiss with a smile as he felt light fingertips right under his eyebrows, on the outside of his eyes. "Alfred..." He murmured opening his eyes. "You're doing it again." Alfred's cheeks went pink. "S-sorry, Francis, it's a habit..." Francis laughed softly, closed his eyes again, then took Alfred's chin in his hand and gave him another soft, heartfelt kiss.
"Francis doesn't really know what to make of it. He feels a little self-conscious about it honestly; He doesn't understand why the bright-eyed boy likes them so much, but he smiles as much as possible just to please him."
Alfred can't help but smile back at him when the other blonde grins. Francis claims he smiles just for Alfred. In a way, it makes him feel special, wanted. Sometimes it seems Alfred goes out of his way to point out his angel wings. Francis always gets a bit flustered at times like these, but he smiles anyway. It always seems to cheer Alfred up. Francis has been told that his smiles bring others happiness, but no one is as happy as Alfred when Francis smiles.