"What about a crossover between wingtalia and soulmate au where you start growing wings the moment you meet your soulmate? And the process is slow so you can wake up one morning with an itch on your back and find feathers and it's like "WHO?"" – .com
I'm gonna do my best
Chapter 1
"Iggs, guess what!" Alfred's voice screamed into Arthur's ear. The Brit held the phone away from his head and winced. "Alfred, it's three in the morning." He muttered, looking to his alarm clock with blurry eyes. "I know, I know. But you gotta guess!" Alfred continued. "I don't have time for this, Al. I have work in a few hours." Arthur stated, causing his brother to whine loudly. "Please?" The younger of the two asked, and Arthur could tell he was pouting even through the phone.
"You met Captain America?"
"Nope!"
"You got a promotion?"
"I wish. Guess again!"
"I don't know, Al. Just tell me." Arthur yawned. "Okay… I found a feather in my shirt!" Alfred said enthusiastically. "Really?" Arthur said, a small smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah! I dunno who it is, though. I don't think I met anyone new the last few days…" Alfred sighed thoughtfully. Arthur reached to rub his shoulders. As usual, they were smooth and featherless. The silence on the other end caused Arthur's mind to wander. Out of all his siblings, he assumed Alfred would be the last to get his wings. Certainly not Arthur. "Oh! But I bumped into someone on the street on the way home." Alfred said suddenly, causing Arthur to snap back to reality. "It's probably them, then." Arthur said slowly, trying to mask his disappointment in himself, "What were they like?"
"It was this real tall guy. Grey hair. He didn't have any wings, either." His brother rambled, "He didn't seem my type, though. He was kinda scary, but he helped me pick up my stuff."
"That was nice. Did you get his name?" Arthur questioned. "Yeah. His name was Ivan, but he's Russian so he said it like 'ee-van'." Alfred said. The line went silent for a moment. "You there?" Arthur asked.
"What if I don't see him again?" Alfred asked quietly. "I'm sure you will, Al. Just go home the same way you went the day you found him." Arthur said soothingly, "If he's the one, he's probably looking for you too."
"Yeah, good point." Alfred said with a yawn, "I'm getting tired. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"
"Yes. Who knows, maybe we'll see him while we're out." Arthur smiled, "Goodnight, Alfred."
"Night, Iggs."
"This is a weird place." Alfred said as he held the glass door for his brother. The little bell attached to the door handled tinkled as Arthur and his brother slid into the small café, looking around the room curiously. "Take a seat anywhere." Someone called from the open doorway behind the front counter, "I'll be right with you!"
With a glance to Alfred, Arthur selected a table next to the large front windows and picked up the paper menu lying in the center. "This place just opened last week." He explained to Alfred. The American was looking out the window with vague interest at the people passing bye. "This is kinda familiar…" He muttered. "Sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order?" The voice from the back room asked cheerily. Arthur looked up from the menu at the male standing by the table, pen and notebook in hand.
The male had long blonde hair that would have gone to his shoulders, had it not been pulled back into a loose pony tail. He was tall enough that his chin, which was covered in stubble, could have rested atop Arthur's head if he was standing. The French male smirked at Arthur, who realized he was staring. "Like what you see?" He asked. Arthur quickly looked back to his menu and mentally scolded himself. "I'll have, uh, the chicken sandwich and- "
"Arthur, it's him!" Alfred interrupted, pointing out the window toward the crowd outside. "Are you sure?" Arthur asked, looking to where he was pointing. A tall, silver haired male exactly like Alfred had described was making his way through the crowd outside the café. "I knew this place was familiar! I bumped into him right here the other day!" Alfred continued, bouncing in his seat like a child. "Well, don't just sit there, Alfred!" Arthur exclaimed, "Go get him!"
The American nearly knocked over his chair in his rush out the door. Arthur and the waiter watched as he pushed aside pedestrians, who gave him angry looks as he called Ivan's name. Ivan, who was a bit farther down the street by now, turned and looked curiously around as passerby after passerby was shoved out of the American's way . "He got his feathers yesterday." Arthur smiled, turning back to the waiter. "Ah, I see." The French male smiled, "I have yet to find mine."
"Me too. Still, I'm glad he finally tracked him down." Arthur sighed. "Yes, good for him. So you'd like a chicken sandwich, and..?" The taller of the two prompted. "Oh, yeah. Uh, the blueberry tea." The Brit said. "Of course." The waiter said as he finished writing down the order, "I'll leave the menu for, did you say his name was Alfred?"
"Yes. I'm sure he'll be back in a minute or so." Arthur said, glancing out the window to his brother and the Russian male. When he looked back, the waiter had returned to the back room, which he assumed was the kitchen.
About twenty minutes later, Alfred burst through the door and caused the small bell to swing around wildly. "I got his number! He said he found feathers too, Iggs!" He grinned, collapsing into his seat and looking to Arthur. "He seems very nice." The Brit smiled as Alfred picked up the menu. "How is your sandwich and tea?" The waiter appeared suddenly. "Very good, thank you. Alfred?" Arthur said, making Alfred look to him and the waiter. "Oh, yeah. Can I have the shrimp salad to go?" The American asked. "Sure thing." The waiter smiled. "I'd like a box too, please." Arthur said, "Lunch hour's almost over."
"No problem." The French male said, picking up Arthur's plate as he made his way to the kitchen. "I'm gonna call Ivan as soon as I get home." Alfred sighed dreamily. Arthur snorted. "You're already head over heels for this guy? You just met him." He said. "He's the one, Iggy. You'll understand when you get your feathers." Alfred said, adopting the tone a parent would use with a child. "Your boxes." The waiter said as he made his way across the room, setting two bags on the table, "You can pay at the front."
A few minutes later Arthur and Alfred were walking out of the small café, the latter with a far away expression still plastered on his face. Arthur glanced at his bag and narrowed his eyes. "I think I grabbed yours, Al. Here." He said, holding out the bag. Alfred handed his over, and the Brit noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the box inside. "Why did he gave us two receipts?" He muttered, reaching in and grabbing the paper.
555-867-5309
I feel some down feathers coming in.
-Francis Bonnefoy