It had been a while. Lately, he'd been simply putting himself into a dreamless sleep rather than dream or visit his meadow where he might potentially encounter another Angel. But he knew it was time to go back, to check in with his superiors and at least let them know that he was alive and recovering.

Besides, he'd missed the peace and quiet of his meadow, and as he stood at the top of a hill, he couldn't help but smile. The wind ruffled his hair and tugged gently at his clothes—yet another borrowed pair of Alfred's boxers. As always, fog hung in the low places and half hid a distant forest.

Green eyes lifted to examine dull grey clouds that slowly passed over a pale blue sky. Hardly another thought passed through his mind before Arthur's wings opened. A single powerful downward stroke launched him off the ground and he flapped rapidly to gain altitude.

Freedom. All the freedom in the world was his now that his wings were merely stiff from disuse. He was well enough to return to heaven.

But that wasn't what Arthur wanted, and the joy of flight quickly faded at the thought. He was airborne for only a few more minutes before he began his descent. Lightly, his feet touched down on the slightly damp earth, though his movements lacked the grace he'd had only a few months ago.

"I'm out of practice," he murmured to himself, knowing it would take a while for his physical body to get back into the habit of effortless flight. At least it wasn't something he would mind taking the time to do.

Sighing, the Angel looked around for a few moments before closing his eyes and letting his mind drift until he sensed the familiar presence of another Angel. As before, he drew that consciousness into his meadow and opened his eyes to see a young boy standing before him, looking around in curiosity.

"Hello, Peter," he greeted the other Angel. The boy wasn't exactly his first pick, but he knew that Peter would do what he asked and he didn't have time to try to find someone else.

"Arthur!" Surprise widened the boy's eyes and he stared at the taller Angel. "You're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive," Arthur responded, holding back his annoyance. "I've just been too hurt to fly. Now, I have a job for you, Peter."

Instantly, the younger Angel straightened with obvious eagerness. "What is it?"

"Can you find Romulus for me? I need to speak with him."

Peter puffed out his small chest and jabbed a thumb against his sternum. "Of course I can!" Then he vanished, and Arthur let out a relieved sigh—Peter would rather die than fail in his task and be proven incapable. It was the boy's only goal to prove that, even though he was technically a child, he was just as smart and strong as the adults. Arthur would never tell Peter this, but he sometimes thought the boy was more capable than a lot of the older Angels.

Knowing that his request was being fulfilled, Arthur settled in the grass to wait, lying back so he could watch the clouds pass by overhead. He felt it, several minutes later, when another consciousness entered his meadow, though he didn't bother to move. It was only Romulus, after all, and the older Angel had already moved to lie beside him.

"Hello, Arthur."

A sigh escaped the blond and he let his eyes fall closed. "Hello, Romulus."

"How have you been? We were beginning to worry—it's been so long since you last contacted anyone," Romulus pointed out, looking over at the smaller Angel with slight concern. "I was hoping you would be healed and back where you belong by now. Has something else happened to delay your return?"

"No." Arthur stopped, immediately hating himself for saying that. "No, I'm sorry. Yes. Something has happened."

His concern growing, Romulus sat up. "What is it, Arthur?"

"I…" he bit his lip, hesitating, unsure of how to phrase this, then sat up as well though he didn't meet the other Angel's gaze. "I think I've become a danger to myself."

They were quiet for a moment, then Romulus placed a comforting hand on the blond's shoulder. "You've fallen in love with him." It wasn't a question. The answer was written all over Arthur's face, was clear in how he curled into himself slightly and kept his eyes lowered.

"Yes," he eventually whispered, on the verge of tears. He'd let Romulus down. He'd fallen in love with a human, something that was forbidden because it was dangerous. It was one of the few rules of heaven and he, Arthur, had broken it.

"Does he know?"

The blond nodded, bringing his knees to his chest so he could wrap his arms around them. "I couldn't hide it from him anymore. I'm sorry. I know it's dangerous and I tried to stop myself but I just…Romulus, I swear, if I could have ignored my feelings then I would never have let this happen. I would have buried them so deep that not even I would remember they existed at all. There's just something about him that I can't—" Frustrated and angry and hurt, he let out a cry of anguish and buried his face in his arms, shoulders shaking as he began to cry.

Romulus shifted closer to the smaller male and gently patted the sobbing Angel's back, rubbing slowly. He didn't offer any words of sympathy or scold the blond, didn't try to convince him that his feelings would go away once he returned to heaven. There was no point in that. They both knew that Arthur would carry his love for Alfred for the rest of his existence, and it would be a heavy burden.

"I-I don't know what to do!" Arthur forced out between shuddering gasps for breath; he leaned into Romulus in seek of comfort and guidance. "I know I h-have to come back but I d-d-don't want to leave him! I can't hurt him like th-that! I can't, Romulus!"

"Shhh, Arthur," Romulus murmured, pulling the smaller Angel into a hug and holding him just as he'd done after the blond's wing had been broken. "Calm down. It'll be all right."

It took several minutes for Arthur to regain control of himself, and he held onto the older Angel's robes as he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths even as tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

"I hate this," he whispered brokenly. "I wish none of this had ever happened."

Patting his head, the brunet continued to soothe the smaller Angel. "I know. It isn't fair to you—no Angel should have to endure the pain that comes with loving mortals. But let me ask you one thing, Arthur, before you convince yourself that you really mean what you just said."

Tear-filled green eyes looked up to meet Romulus' gaze and the older Angel smiled kindly. "Would you be willing to give up the happiness Alfred gives you, and the happiness you've given him, if doing so would also erase the pain you've felt?"

Give up the happiness that Alfred gave him? Take away the happiness he'd given to Alfred, force the American to suffer nightmares again and let him go back to the lonely existence he'd had before?

"No," he answered finally, voice lower than normal though firm. "No, I'm not willing to do that."

"You know the consequences of your decisions, Arthur," Romulus stated. "Whatever you decide, don't let your emotions overpower your other senses."

"I won't." Now visibly much calmer though still internally struggling with the choice he needed to make, Arthur put space between himself and the brunet Angel. "Thank you for coming to see me."

"Of course, my old friend."

Arthur opened his eyes to find himself wrapped in strong arms, his head tucked under Alfred's chin as the American slept. Unsurprisingly, his cheeks were cold due to the tears that had leaked onto them and he quickly wiped them dry, though he made sure not to move too much and wake the other man. With a shuddering sigh, he wrapped his arms around Alfred and pulled as close to the taller blond as he could. His talk with Romulus hadn't done much to help him.

Yes, he knew he needed to return to heaven now that his wing was healed, though what he'd said about not wanting to leave Alfred all alone, not wanting to hurt the blue-eyed man like that had been completely true. There wasn't a bone in his body that could imagine being able to say good-bye to the American. He'd burst into tears first, and cling to Alfred's shirt and apologize a million times over and promise that things were going to work out even though he didn't know how.

But for now he was still too tired to try to figure it out, so he reached up and placed a hand on the side of Alfred's face so that his fingertips were against the American's temple, and closed his eyes once more. He would spend the rest of the night with Alfred, fulfilling the bespectacled man's needs in his dreams because he couldn't in the real world.

X

This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Hiding his feelings from Alfred had been bad enough when he was pretending he didn't love the ash blond. But this, trying to act happy when really all he felt was a growing sense of dread, was much more difficult.

"Hey, Artie! Whaddya want for breakfast?" the American's voice sounded from the kitchen, and Arthur took a moment to gather himself so that his voice was steady.

"Toast with jam and eggs, please."

"Got it! I'm makin' orange juice, too."

"All right."

There was such obvious happiness in Alfred's tone and behaviors that it broke Arthur's heart. The American had no idea what was coming, no idea how soon Arthur was going to have to take that happiness away. God, he didn't want to. He wanted to keep Alfred happy forever, to never let a frown or anything even close to sadness enter the tall man's expression ever again. Yet he was going to be doing the exact opposite in…how many hours? He didn't want to know. He didn't want to look at the clock ad think about how much time he had left before Alfred would leave for work. Would he even manage to do it? It wasn't going to be easy.

"You wanna take a bath after we eat?"

There was no suggestive lilt to the question and yet Arthur's thoughts immediately went to the last time he'd taken a bubble bath, then to the time before that. If Alfred wanted to take a bath with him, then Arthur wasn't going to let it be innocent. Not today.

"Yes, I would like that," he responded, finally getting out of bed and leaving the bedroom to join Alfred in the kitchen. A pitcher of orange juice already sat on the table along with plates and silverware, so he took his usual place and poured himself some of the juice. Green eyes observed Alfred as the tall American cooked. He was humming softly as he tended to the eggs currently occupying the frying pan, and he was swaying from side to side a little.

Unable to help himself, Arthur got up again and wrapped his arms around the ash blond's middle, face nuzzling into Alfred's back between his shoulder blades. The American started then chuckled, placing a hand over Arthur's.

"Hey there," he murmured, smiling. "What's this for?"

Arthur shrugged but didn't pull away; his arms tightened slightly. "Love you."

Without breaking the smaller man's grip, Alfred turned until they were facing each other and looked down into the Angel's emerald eyes, winding his own arms around him. "I love you, too."

Tears began to prick at Arthur's eyes and he quickly buried his face in Alfred's chest to hide it, biting his cheek to keep from crying. He didn't have much time left—there was no way he was going to waste it by breaking down. A gentle hand stroked through his hair, making it easier for him to relax and calm down.

Damn it, why could this one blasted American affect him so easily? How had he managed to be rescued by the one human who could steal his heart without even trying? It really wasn't fair.

But I wouldn't have wanted to be rescued by anyone else. It had to be him. He's the only one.

Fixing a smile in place, the Angel stepped back and returned to his chair as Alfred finished breakfast then set the food on the table. They ate in near silence, though that wasn't much of a surprise because the American was usually quieter when there was food to be eaten than he was the rest of the time. Only when he'd had his fill did the ash blond lean back in his chair with a contented sigh and a smile.

"Delicious."

Arthur nodded his agreement before finishing off his orange juice. "It always is."

That earned a chuckle from the American and he winked playfully; the Angel blushed lightly. "Thanks, Artie."

"Should we clean up before our bath?"

Alfred took a deep breath then let it out slowly, blue eyes examining the few dishes there were to wash and put away. "Yeah, probably."

"But you don't want to," Arthur said with a knowing smile, and the American laughed before nodding.

"Nope."

"Well," the golden blond began, standing and moving towards the sink, "either we clean up and then have a fun bath," he threw a flirtatious smile at the taller man, "or we take a boring bath then clean up."

Alfred stared as if he couldn't quite believe that the Angel had suddenly turned into the sort to tease him about taking a bath. "'Fun' bath?" he asked, throat feeling a little thicker than usual; he couldn't help but let his gaze slide over the petite man currently filling the sink with hot, soapy water. The Angel had to lean against the edge of the counter to reach the faucet, which made it look like he was sticking his ass out, and Alfred had the overwhelming urge to move behind the Angel, press against him, pin him to the counter while he kissed and bit that pale neck to leave little marks as proof of who the petite blond belonged to.

"Yes. I can be fun, you know." He could feel those blue eyes on him, undressing him where he stood, could feel the want coming off of Alfred and knew that he was going to get exactly what he wanted from the American as long as he played his cards right.

"I know."

Abandoning the sink, Arthur began to gather the dirty dishes from the table and put them on the counter so he could wash them. "So? Which is it?"

The American didn't even hesitate. "Clean up first."

Arthur chuckled. "I thought you'd say that."

When the dishes were washed and put away, the table and counters had been wiped off and the floor swept, Alfred moved close to the Angel and wrapped his arms around the slender waist, placing a kiss on Arthur's shoulder.

"Bath time?" he asked softly, and Arthur shivered to feel a warm breath against the back of his ear.

"Yes." A moment later he'd dropped his only article of clothing to the floor and stepped out of Alfred's embrace, much to the American's surprise. He cast a single backwards glance over his shoulder for the solitary purpose of smirking at the taller blond before he went into the bathroom, partially shutting the door behind himself. By the time Alfred got over the shock and joined him, the tub was partially filled with hot water and the Angel had already added bubbles.

"So, how are you gonna make this fun?" he asked, trying not to sound completely perverted, though Arthur didn't miss the eagerness in his movements as the tall blond stripped off his pajamas.

"You'll see, love. Be patient." It was clear from Alfred's expression that the last thing he wanted to do was be patient, but he didn't complain.

Only moments later the bathroom was filled with steam and Arthur shut the door the rest of the way to prevent it from escaping. As Alfred watched, he climbed up on to the counter, his movements easy because it wasn't the first time he'd done so. Then, just like the first time, he braced one hand against the mirror and wrote out the familiar phrase.

Turning, he offered an innocent smile to Alfred. "Do you like it?"

Blue eyes widened as the American read it. "'I want to fuck Alfred F. Jones'?"

Arthur nodded. "This is the second time I've written that."

"When was the first?"

Graceful, the Angel jumped down from the counter and moved close enough to the larger male to place a light kiss on the tanned chest. "The first night you went back to work after Ivan broke my wing."

"Really?" Large hands rested on his hips, drawing him even closer. "Did you do anything or just write on the mirror?"

A smile graced Arthur's lips and he took Alfred's hand into his own. "I always do something."

"Always?" Alfred was bewildered but allowed himself to be pulled forward and into the bathtub.

"Always," the Angel confirmed, shivering at the heat of the water swishing around his calves. "I couldn't get you out of my head, you bloody wanker."

Alfred laughed and kissed the smaller male's forehead. "I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I." Using his grip on Alfred's hand, Arthur pulled the American down to sit in the tub, maneuvering himself until Alfred was leaning back against the wall and Arthur was leaning back against him, seated between the larger man's legs. God he needed this, needed to feel close to this perfect blue-eyed man. He needed every reassurance that Alfred loved him just so he wouldn't shatter under the weight of what was coming. "This is what I imagined we would be like, the first time."

"First time?" Lips brushed against the side of his neck and Arthur sighed softly, eyes falling partway shut.

"Yes…"

"How many times have you done this?" A kiss on his shoulder as hands slid over his hips.

"Mm…a few…whenever I couldn't stop myself anymore…"

"Really." The feeling of a tongue tracing the curve of his ear made Arthur tremble. "I've thought about you, too, you know." It was a husky whisper and Arthur felt his body grow warmer; he pressed back against the larger man in invitation.

"You have?"

"Oh, yeah." Gently, he nipped at the Angel's earlobe before trailing kisses down his neck. One of his hands wandered down a soft thigh to the pale man's knee before slowly trailing back up. "All the time. That day in the park, when I admitted to jacking off? I was thinking about you while I did it."

"Sometimes I imagine you make me touch myself," Arthur admitted quietly, "you call me a naughty little Angel and say I need to be punished. No matter how I beg, you refuse to touch me so I have to do all the work."

His arousal getting the better of him, Alfred took hold of Arthur's hips and lifted him, pulling him back until the Angel was seated square in his lap. As if he'd been expecting it, Arthur began shifting back and forth to create even just a little friction, and soft moans escaped two pairs of parted lips.

"Alfred…"

"God, Artie, you make me want you so bad."

Reaching back, Arthur slid one hair into ash blond locks and gripped gently. "The first time I did this, I imagined you held me just like you're doing now, and you fingered me until I came."

The American made a sound that was somewhere between amused and aroused. "I can do that."

Arthur nodded, pulling his legs up so that his knees were visible above the water. He took hold of Alfred's wrist and guided one of the larger man's hands beneath himself until Alfred had a firm grasp of his backside, biting his lip to keep from moaning already. Immediately, that hand began to rub and squeeze and Arthur gasped softly, legs falling open just a little farther.

"You're horny as fuck, aren't you."

"Y-yes," he answered, slightly out of breath.

Teeth caught onto his earlobe again, tugging gently as a hot mouth sucked. "Tell me what you imagined. I want to do exactly that."

"Hickeys on m-my neck and shoulder."

Alfred instantly switched his attention to the place where neck melded into shoulder, biting down hard enough for Arthur to cry out a little, his nails digging into the larger man's thigh. Then the pain was soothed away by lips and tongue and he shuddered.

"A-Alfred…"

"What else?"

It took a moment for Arthur to gather his thoughts enough to remember. "Play with…ah…" He gestured at his chest and was rewarded by a calloused palm sliding over his own soft skin, both warm from the water they were partially submerged in. The fingers trailed over his ribs and upward until they located one of his nipples.

"Nng!"

Almost vicious, Alfred caught the sensitive mound between his fingers and twisted, rolling it and pinching until Arthur was a panting, moaning mess.

"Keep going, Alfred," he whispered into the Angel's ear. "I know this isn't everything you want me to do to you."

Arthur whimpered, too distracted by what was already being done to his body to want to focus. "Y-you fingered me."

"You're damn right I did," Alfred growled into his ear, and Arthur couldn't help but shudder at that tone.

"P-please, Alfie…please…"

Grinning, Alfred moved his hand from where it had been patiently rubbing the Angel's rear and sent his fingers in search of Arthur's entrance. Arthur let out a keening whine when he found it, and he set his fingers to stroking and teasing the spot.

"Relax."

He barely had time to take a breath before one of those fingers began to push forward; his back arched upwards and his grip on both Alfred's hair and thigh tightened. Small tears of pain gathered under his eyes and he groaned, though a moment later the pain was replaced by a different sensation as that finger began to move. The hand that had been so busy with his nipple slid down his torso until it wrapped around the hardened length between his legs, moving slowly, and he couldn't help but buck a little.

"A-Alfred—!"

"Shhh, Artie," the blue-eyed man soothed, smiling gently; he placed a kiss on the hickey he'd made on Arthur's neck. "I've got you."

"More!"

The desperate plea had Alfred adding a second finger and he scissored them as Arthur continued to let out little whimpers and moans, his slender hips moving in time with both of Alfred's hands. A gentle squeeze on his member dragged a whine out of him and he shut his eyes tight.

"How's it feel, Artie?" the American asked, tone teasing despite the fact that his own arousal was making it hard not to lose his patience.

"Good! Ah! I-it feels good!"

Another finger found its way into his body and he called Alfred's name so loudly that it reverberated off the walls. Encouraged, Alfred pushed deeper, faster and harder, twisting and spreading as the hand he had on the Angel's shaft squeezed and pumped. Arthur's chest heaved in the effort to get enough oxygen into his lungs and his hips twisted this way and that in a desperate attempt to guide Alfred to his prostate. He was sweating from the heat of the water and his body's reaction to Alfred; a tongue licked at the droplets as they rolled over his skin; teeth grazed occasionally, making him shiver.

"Bite…please…" he gasped out, and felt Alfred's mouth curl into a smirk against the skin of his shoulder.

"Of course." The tongue travelled up the side of his neck before a hot breath gave him a split second warning. Then Alfred bit down with gentle pressure, then a little harder, and a little harder, sucking as his teeth tugged at the soft flesh. Arthur moaned at the ministrations, mouth hanging open as he lay between the larger man's legs, completely at Alfred's mercy.

Then the American's fingers finally managed to find that bundle of nerves inside the Angel. The touch tore a cry from Arthur and he bucked roughly, shouting Alfred's name. His tone held every ounce of lust and desire that he felt for the American and Alfred couldn't take it anymore. Both of his hands began to move faster.

God, yes. More. He was so close, so bloody close that if Alfred would go just a little faster, hit his prostate a little harder, then he'd leap over the edge and sing as he did so. It would drive him mad to have to wait much longer. His stomach was wound tight and ready to burst at any moment, if only Alfred would push him over.

"S-so close, A-Alf-fred!" Those fingers drove against his prostate and Arthur's hips gave one last upwards thrust as he came. The American's name left him in the form of a shout as he held on for dear life, blinded by the pleasure that was trying to drown him.

"Good boy, Artie."

His mind barely registered the whispered words—the world flickered, slowly darkening back to normal. The pleasure faded until it was little more than a blissful warmth that radiated from his very bones. He wouldn't have been able to get up if he'd wanted to.

"…better…" he mumbled, shifting as Alfred carefully removed his fingers.

"What was that?"

"You're…better than my imagination…"

Alfred chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of the Angel's head. "Good to know."

Useless in his current state of exhaustion, Arthur focused on trying to catch his breath as Alfred cleaned them both. He had to cling to the taller man in order not to fall down when they rinsed off, and Alfred shamelessly used the opportunity to steal a kiss. Barely taking a moment to think about it, Arthur returned the kiss as he pressed closer to the American. Only then did he realize that, while he'd been pleasured to his heart's content, Alfred was still hard.

"Oh…d'you want me to…?" he asked, looking up at Alfred with tired green eyes, and the American offered his usual dazzling smile.

"You look pretty tired, but I won't stop you, if you want to."

Arthur nodded—he wanted to return the favor that had just been granted to him. Slowly so that he wouldn't fall, he sank to his knees so that he was eye-level with Alfred's length. For a moment he paused, glancing up to find blue eyes watching him, then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the tip.

"Mm…I hope you aren't planning on being a tease, Artie."

"I'm not."

"Good."

If Alfred had planned on saying something else, he lost the opportunity when Arthur wrapped one pale hand around the base of his member and squeezed ever so gently to coax a moan from the taller man. His tongue slipped out to taste before he took the sensitive organ into his mouth and sucked, head bobbing slowly as his hand moved to compensation for what his mouth couldn't take.

"A-Artie…damn, you're good at this…"

He would have smiled if he wasn't so busy using what little energy he had left on Alfred's erection. Relaxing his throat, Arthur moved his hand away and took as much of the American as he could, letting his tongue slide along the bottom of the length so that Alfred moaned again; a hand began stroking through his hair in encouragement.

"Faster…"

It only took him a moment to comply, and as soon as his pace increased, the hand in his hair gripped, not gently but not tight enough to hurt. Groans and mumbled words dropped from Alfred's mouth as if the American was no longer capable of producing speech. That was all Arthur needed to know that he was well on his way to bringing Alfred to his release. The American had already been close and now he could feel him getting closer, could tell in the growing volume of Alfred's sounds and the way his hips started to move in time with Arthur's head.

"Nng…harder…"

The command was breathy and, for a moment, Arthur was tempted to ignore it. But he'd promised not to tease, so he breathed through his nose and increased his pace, sucking harder at the same time so that Alfred called his name. It was like music, the way his voice echoed around the bathroom, and Arthur knew without a doubt that the human was right on the edge of his release.

Preparing himself as best he could, he took the entirely of Alfred's length into mouth and bit down enough to add pressure to the base before slowly, slowly pulling back—he'd barely made it halfway when a hoarse shout burst from Alfred and he bucked weakly. In order to avoid choking, Arthur swallowed the substance that suddenly filled his mouth then set to cleaning Alfred, licking at any of the mess he hadn't managed to catch.

"Ah…you d-don't have to do that," Alfred panted, hand once more gently moving through Arthur's golden blond locks. "I can just rinse off."

"I know." The Angel offered a small smile. "I wanted to do it.

The blush already coloring Alfred's face darkened slightly and he averted his gaze, reaching down to grip Arthur's hands and help the smaller male to his feet. Despite having been cleaned, he turned the water on to rinse them off one more time before stepping out of the shower and grabbing two towels. One was handed to Arthur and, and they dried themselves off in silence.

"Come one." Yawning, Arthur slipped his hand into Alfred's and led the taller man out of the bathroom, leaving his towel behind. He headed straight for the bedroom and climbed into bed without bothering to find clothes for himself, and Alfred quickly followed his lead.

Safe and warm together under the blankets, the two men held close to each other. Green eyes stared into blue, both blurred with the exhaustion that was starting to take them over. Within minutes of having gotten into bed, they were both fast asleep.

X

No. No, don't leave me. Stay. Stay here with me. Please.

Arthur didn't voice his thoughts, instead keeping a calm smile in place as Alfred shrugged on his coat and fastened his work belt around his waist.

"Say hello to your friends for me," he mumbled once he'd been pulled into a close embrace; lips brushed against the top of his head.

"I will. Are you going to wait up for me again?"

"I'm not sure. I'm still feeling worn out."

Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, I'm still tired, too, but I don't mind." He kissed the Angel's nose. "I gotta go—love ya, Artie."

"Love you, too, Alfred." Then the door shut and the tall American was gone, vanishing into the car that waited for him and driving away down the street. Arthur remained where he was, unable to move. It felt like the walls were closing in on him, making it hard to breathe. Tears that had barely been held in check for the last hour broke free and rolled down pale cheeks.

This was it.

Tearing his gaze from the window where he'd caught his last glimpse of Alfred, Arthur turned and went into the bedroom. It was snowing again, so he found a pair of jeans and a hoody, and socks to protect his feet, though he didn't bother with shoes—he wasn't going to need them. When he was dressed in the jeans and socks and had the hoody in his arms, he climbed onto the bed and lay there for a while, eyes closed as he breathed in the combined scents of himself and Alfred. Only an hour ago, they had lain there together, fast asleep in each other's arms and warm from what they'd done in the shower.

The memories they'd made that day weren't nearly enough to sate Arthur's need for the blue-eyed man, but they were better than nothing. He refused to regret any of it.

Some time passed before he moved again, though whether it was minutes or hours, he didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to finish before Alfred got home, so he forced himself off the bed and left the room, wandering into the kitchen. It was just as they'd left it after cleaning up from lunch, save for the few small dishes from dinner and the coffee Alfred had made to help keep himself awake at work.

Impulsively, Arthur cleaned each dish and put them away in their proper places so that Alfred wouldn't have to do it when he got home.

After the kitchen, he went into the bathroom and picked up the towels they'd left there after their bath and added them to the pile of dirty laundry next to the washing machine. Then he stood in the center of the apartment and looked around, at a loss for what else he could do. He knew he was stalling, knew he was putting off the one thing he really needed to do, but he couldn't bring himself to do it yet. Not yet.

The tears grew in frequency until there was little more the Angel could do but sink to the floor and curl in on himself, sobbing uncontrollably with the hoody pressed to his face. Why did this have to happen?

"It isn't fair!" he shouted, voice broken rather than angry like he wished it was. "Why make me fall in love with him? What have I ever done to deserve this? I'm a good Angel! I don't understand why!"

There was, of course, no answer. Arthur wasn't even sure who he was yelling at. God? The universe? Himself? He honestly didn't know. All he knew was that it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and it was so much worse than the pain of being murdered, the pain of being betrayed by everyone he knew. It was even worse than having to watch Francis grow old and eventually die. But that hadn't been this. That had been his choice—he'd saved Francis and making sure the Frenchman lived a good life had helped him deal with the grief of losing his mortal life and the future he'd hoped to have. This, though…there was nothing he could do to make this any less painful than it was.

"I can't just leave him." His voice had dropped to a whisper, all the energy he'd had a moment ago abandoning him. "It isn't fair to me or him. He'll be so hurt and he won't understand…but if I wait and say goodbye to him, then I won't be able to leave at all…and I don't want to see the pain in his eyes…I wouldn't be able to take it…"

Leaving now while Alfred was gone at work was the only way he was going to get out of the apartment. If he waited, then he knew without a doubt that Alfred would try to stop him, would beg him to stay. He knew it because he would have done the same had their places been reversed. Hell, he wanted Alfred to make him stay. He didn't want to have to leave, and he hated that he had to.

Slowly, Arthur uncurled himself and climbed to his feet. He could feel himself shaking, knew that his knees might give at any moment. One by one, he moved around the apartment and shut off all the lights. He could still see perfectly, so he cast a lingering look over the small space that had been his home for the last weeks. In that moment, he realized that this was home, not the house he had back in heaven. This apartment was home because Alfred was here. It would always be home.

"Goodbye, Alfred. I love you," he whispered before turning and walking out of the apartment. The door was already locked from the inside, and as soon as he shut it behind himself, that was it. He couldn't have gotten back inside without breaking in, and he wasn't going to do that. So he faced the street, eyes immediately drawn to where the car had waited to pick up Alfred. It didn't seem like it had been that long, yet he already missed the American more than he could say.

The dark night sky was starless, filled instead with heavy clouds that sent countless snowflakes down towards earth, filling the streets again overnight. If he didn't hurry, his socks would be soaked.

Hoody clutched firmly to his chest, Arthur looked around nervously in case anyone happened to be outside before he spread his wings. Stiff, as he'd known they would be; he took a few moments to flex and stretch them before spreading them as wide as they would go. A downward thrust and he was airborne, powerful strokes took him higher and higher until he was above the buildings and looking down on the street he'd only ever seen from the ground level until now. He took a moment to examine it, stared at the doorstep he'd just abandoned, then turned and began heading off in a familiar direction, following the path he knew so he wouldn't end up somewhere other than where he wanted to go.

Only minutes later, the city vanished and he was flying over trees. A path was visible through gaps in the branches, and he used that as his guide until he reached the hill. His and Alfred's hill, the one with the bench and solitary tree that looked over the rest of the park.

Wings silent in the cold night air, Arthur made a slow descent until he landed on the hilltop, standing directly in front of the bench. Green eyes looked out over the view, just as he'd done so many times with Alfred by his side. Somehow, the park lost a great deal of its beauty now that he was by himself and he found it all a bit depression. Turning his back on it, he turned and looked up at the tree.

"I'll miss you," he told it quietly, because he was going to miss that tree. He was going miss taking walks through the park, sitting on the bench to talk, enjoying a peaceful afternoon. "I wish I could see you in the spring, when your new leaves come in. Maybe I'll visit, if I get the chance."

Yes, he would like that, to visit their hill. Even if Alfred wasn't there, he wanted to know what this spot looked like in the spring in summer. This was the kind of tree that one sat under to read a book, enjoying the shade during a hot summer day. Arthur regretted the fact that he would probably never get to do that, and he regretted that he wasn't going to get to sit on that bench with Alfred one last time.

Completely silent, the Angel turned around again and once more propelled himself into the air, this time heading straight up as if he meant to leave the earth behind completely, which was exactly what he intended to do. Within moments he was surrounded by clouds, safe from any human eyes that may have been watching. His path didn't change and he didn't waver to one side or the other.

After weeks on earth, after being struck by lightning and having his wing broken, after falling in love with a human and having his heart broken for the second time in his existence, Arthur left New York City to the humans and set his sights on the path back to heaven.