The sounds of eggs and bacon on the stove filled the small kitchen as Alfred made a mid-afternoon "breakfast" for himself and the man who was still asleep in the other room. It was strange to him, now that he was rested and fully awake, that there was an angel sleeping in his bed. A real angel. A very attractive angel. In his bed. And wearing his pajamas.

Nope. Not thinking that. You just got out of a bad relationship, Alfred. Focus on your job so you can make enough money to get out of this shithole apartment. He's an angel—get a grip.

Behind him, the toaster dinged to signal that the bread was done, and he quickly removed it so that it wouldn't burn. Cooking was helping him keep his thoughts where they belonged, and it was nice to cook for more than just himself again. Besides, he knew Arthur was probably going to be starving when he woke, so he was making plenty of food for the both of them. Eggs, bacon, toast and orange juice, he even had toaster waffles and syrup if the injured angel was still hungry.

He'll probably want to take a bath, too, and he'll need help because of his back.

Unbidden, an image of Arthur, naked and dripping wet as he knelt in the bathtub with his wings spread, rose in Alfred's mind, making him nearly drop the spatula he held.

"Jesus Christ!"

Immediately after the words burst out of him, he slapped a hand over his mouth and stared at the partially open door to the bedroom, worried that he might have woken his guest. He didn't hear any movement, and slowly let himself relax. Apparently, Arthur was a heavy sleeper, or he would definitely have been woken by Al's shouts, and then he'd want to know what was wrong. Somehow, he didn't think the angel would appreciate knowing that Alfred was having a really hard time thinking about him in a non-sexual way.

Alfred knew that it didn't make sense for him to think about Arthur the way he was. He'd known the man for less than a day and here he was having shower fantasies about an injured angel he barely knew. It had taken him months to view his last partner in a sexual context, though given the circumstances under which they'd met, that wasn't surprising. But the way he'd met Arthur should have made it impossible for him to be attracted to the man—what was less appealing than an unconscious, injured man lying in a dirty alleyway at 5:30 in the morning?

Still stuck on this train of thought, the sandy blond finished the eggs and bacon and set the table, making sure everything was perfect. It occurred to him that since Arthur was British he might want tea, but he didn't have any in his apartment so there was little he could do about that until the next time he went grocery shopping. He figured Arthur would appreciate the meal even though it lacked tea, and surveyed the small table with satisfaction.

Perfect.

Sock-covered feet quiet on the carpeted floor, he approached the bedroom door and peeked in to see Arthur fast asleep, the blankets covering him up to his waist as he snuggled into Alfred's pillows. His wings were tucked neatly over his shoulder blades and his back rose and fell slowly as he breathed. The burn looked less angry than before, and Al wondered if it would heal at a faster rate than normal because Arthur wasn't human. Part of him hoped not, even though it was selfish of him. He wanted Arthur to stay—he liked the smaller man, and not just because it was easy to picture him naked. There was something about the angel's presence that made him feel at ease, though that was probably to be expected. He was an angel, after all, and angels were supposed to be symbols of peace and hope and all that. In fact, he looked like the absolute epitome of peace as he lay sleeping, and Alfred found himself not wanting to wake him and disturb that peace. However, he couldn't help but think that the food wouldn't be as good if he let it cool and reheated it later, and he knew Arthur needed to eat if he was going to heal quickly. The angel could always go back to sleep after eating, anyway, and he'd be able to sleep through the night while Alfred was at work.

His mind made up, the tall blond knocked on the doorframe quietly. "Arthur?"

The sleeping angel stirred, lifting his head slightly and looking at Alfred with bleary green eyes, his hair mussed from the pillows. "Hm?"

For a moment, Al discovered that he'd suddenly lost his voice. Arthur looked absolutely precious like that, and Alfred had to work hard to keep his mind from wandering to areas it had no business wandering to. It was impossible, however, to deny that he wouldn't mind waking up to that face every day.

"I…" He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and glanced away from the angel. "I made some breakfast, if you're hungry."

A smile graced Arthur's lips, making Al's heart flutter in a completely irrational way. "God, yes. I'm bloody starving."

Alfred smiled in return as the angel got out of bed and stretched carefully. He noticed, not for the first time, that while Arthur wasn't muscular by any means, he was nowhere near what could be called fat. His pale body was slim, almost unhealthily skinny, but in a way that made him look delicate, like a flower. Al wanted to memorize every bit of that body and forced himself to turn away and go back to the kitchen. If he didn't get a grip, things were going to go downhill extraordinarily quickly.

A few moments passed before Arthur appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, now wearing an over-sized long-sleeve shirt in addition to the baggy pajama pants, making him look even more petite than he really was.

Damn. I didn't know grown men could be that adorable.

In an attempt to hide his thoughts, Al looked down at his plate of food. "I hope you like eggs."

"I like anything when I'm this hungry, but yes, I like eggs." There was a slightly joking tone as Arthur spoke, and Alfred chuckled.

The legs of the chair scraped quietly as the angel pulled it back from the table then sat. It was mostly quiet as the two men ate, both too focused on their food to speak. As he'd suspected, Arthur was ravenous and ate everything that was put in front of him with little discretion, though his table manners were exquisite the entire time. It made Alfred feel unrefined, since he'd never had any training in proper etiquette and Arthur seemed like he'd have been comfortable dining with the Queen of England even while wearing the American's too-big pajamas.

When at last there was no more food to eat, Alfred stood and began to gather the dirty dishes, piling them into the sink and running hot water over them.

"Do you need help cleaning up? It's the least I can do after you've been so kind to me," Arthur offered, standing by the table as if unsure of what to do next.

"I got it, thanks." The American flashed a grin as he added dish soap to the sink of water. "Besides, you're hurt, so you should rest. You can watch TV or go back to sleep or whatever."

The word "TV" made the angel perk up slightly, and Alfred chuckled.

"Have you ever watched TV?"

"No. We don't have electricity in—well, I suppose you'd call it heaven—so we don't have TV or computers or anything like that."

Alfred's jaw dropped. "No electricity? Then what do you do?"

Narrow shoulders rising in a shrug, Arthur wandered over to the couch and slowly lowered himself down on it. "Read. Work. Spend time with friends and family. Watch the earth. There's plenty to do—it's just not the same as what you have here."

"Oh." The warm water felt nice on his hands and helped to calm Alfred as he washed the dishes. "You said 'work.' Do you have a job?"

"Yes."

"What do you do?"

Arthur hesitated, chewing his lip as he thought. "I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm grateful for your help, really I am, but I can't tell you very much about myself or where I'm from or what I do. We have to have permission to reveal ourselves to humans, and that only happens when it's part of our job. This is a special occasion, but I still can't reveal much."

"Oh." He did his best to keep from sounding disappointed, since he'd been bursting with curiosity about angels since he'd woken up. "That's cool. I get it."

The only sound was that of swishing water as Alfred continued with the dishes. Arthur surveyed the apartment once more, taking in more detail than he had the first time. If this was to be his home until his back healed, then he wanted to get used to it as quickly as possible so that he could make the most out of his time on earth. There was no point in letting himself feel homesick, and the apartment, though clearly not the best, was well-kept and Arthur found that he could be quite comfortable there after a day or two.

"Alfred, what do you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your job. You must work somewhere. What do you do?"

Reaching into the dirty water, Alfred pulled the plug and drained the sink. "I'm a night guard for a corporation called Katsuro Incorporated, a lab about a mile from here."

"Why did you choose to be a night guard?"

The American hesitated. There was a short answer to that question, but there was also a much longer, more complicated answer. He decided the short answer would be better. "It pays well and I don't mind the hours, plus it's close enough to walk, so I don't have to get a car or pay for a taxi."

"I see."

Even though the small man sounded genuinely interested in Alfred's life, he found himself wanting to move the topic away from himself. But if Arthur couldn't tell him anything about being an angel, then what were they supposed to talk about?

"How'd you get that burn, Arthur?" he finally asked after a few quiet minutes had gone by and he'd almost finished putting his kitchen back in order. There was no immediate answer, and he glanced to where Arthur sat on the couch to see the angel looking out the window. "Arthur?"

"I think it was the lightning."

"Angels can be struck by lightning?"

"Yes. It doesn't happen very often because of how fast we fly, but it does happen, and in a storm as big as that one was, I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out I was struck. Bloody thing hurt like hell, and there was nothing I could do about it." His voice got quiet towards the end, as if it was drowning in the memory of how helpless he'd felt in those few moments after the initial pain.

Alfred recognized that tone immediately and went into the living room; he flopped down on the recliner next to the couch and smiled at the injured man. "Dude, I'm just impressed that you're even alive. Struck by lightning, crashing in an alleyway like that, and not even a broken bone? Angels must be invincible."

That earned him a small smile.

"Not quite, but we are much tougher than humans." Turning, Arthur settled on the couch as comfortably as he could without leaning on his burn. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"Could we watch your TV? I'm curious as to why so many humans dedicate so much of their time to it."

His way of wording the request sounded so much like he was doing an experiment with rats that Alfred didn't risk replying for fear that he would burst out laughing. Instead, he picked up the remote and turned the TV on, flipping through the channels until he found something he thought Arthur would like. "Up and down arrows change the channel, left and right adjust the volume."

"Thank you."

It was the oddest thing, to sit in his shitty apartment watching TV with an angel he'd rescued, but Alfred didn't mind. He enjoyed seeing the small man's reactions to the various shows he discovered, and thought that he'd never be bored again as long as the angel was around. Sitting there, it was easy to pretend that it would be like this forever, even though he knew the peace that the angel brought with him wasn't going to last very long.