AUTHOR: Anonymous

7th of December, 2014

On the crowded London street, sirens blared and firefighters rushed into the smoky building. I stood with my neighbours under the street lamps as they watched from a safe distance and wondered what they might have lost in the fire.

Truth be told, I should have been wondering the same thing myself. I should have been concerned about the risk to anyone still trapped in the building and the possible damage to my flat. But I wasn't. In my defense, it was rather hard to focus on a measly fire when Alfred F. Jones was half-naked and standing right next to me.

We had met a few times in passing, and I had always thought that the young international student was rather handsome. Now I had to revise my estimate: Alfred was drop-dead gorgeous. With his spectacles askew and his blond hair sticking out at all angles, he looked like he had just emerged from night of wild love-making. And his abs. Those abs! Alfred's tanned skin and rock-hard six-pack belonged on the cover of a magazine. Preferably the sort of magazine sold in brown-paper bags.

My gaze drifted lower as I admired the American's taut buttocks. I wasn't surprised to see that he owned American-flag briefs. I wondered if all of his briefs were red, white, and blue. But even the silly nationalism couldn't detract from his perfect arse. I blushed guiltily when I noticed him glancing my way.

"You okay there, Artie?" he asked, his handsomeness mixed with concern.

"I'm fine." I arched an eyebrow and tried to pretend I hadn't been ogling him a moment earlier. "I'm surprised you haven't raced back into the building trying to be a hero."

Alfred pouted, still handsomely. "I did, but they kept kicking me out!"

"Just because you look like a superhero doesn't mean you need to act like one." I nearly clapped a hand over my mouth. Oh crap, I hadn't meant to say that.

He grinned. "You really thinks so?"

I shrugged and tried to keep calm and carry on. "Yes, leave the heroics to people with protective gear and training."

"No, I meant... never mind." He sighed and fell silent. It wasn't until he shivered that I realised the poor lad had to be freezing. I should have noticed sooner; I was supposed to be a gentleman.

"Here," I said as I pulled off my coat and offered it to Alfred. I didn't need it, judging by how warm my cheeks felt. Of course, I knew it would be several sizes too small, but it was better than nothing. My efforts were immediately rewarded with the brilliant grin that crossed Alfred's face.

"Thanks!" He tossed the jacket over his shoulder like a cape. "It took so long to find my glasses I didn't have time to grab anything else," he explained sheepishly.

We watched as the firefighters gave the all-clear. I tried to focus on the building, honestly, but my eyes kept drifting back to the shirtless American.

Alfred caught my gaze and grinned. "Hey, Artie. You weren't cooking, were you?"

"Oh, sod off," I grumbled. "I was in bed."

"Yeah, guess I should've known. Those are cute teddy-bear PJs, by the way," he said, chuckling as he pointed at my pyjamas.

I was saved from having to respond as one of the firefighters came over to let us know which flats were safe to reenter and which had to be repaired first. Mine was thankfully safe, but poor Alfred wasn't so lucky. Apparently the electrical wiring in his flat had been badly damaged by the fire. He sighed and I felt the immense need to cheer him up.

"You're welcome to stay with me," I offered, and he cheerfully accepted.

I did it because I was a gentleman and certainly not out of any ulterior motives. The repairs wouldn't last more than a few days, and I was happy to let him use my sofa. Of course, if he preferred to share the bed, well, that also could be arranged...

Needless to say, Alfred F. Jones moved in with me and he never moved out.

For Iggycat