Chapter 2

How on earth could he have missed that? He was holding the guy or a good fifteen minutes and he failed to notice that he was wearing the shortest, skimpiest, most translucent dress he's ever seen outside a gentleman's club. It barely came to his mid-thigh!

Alfred's face heated up as he stared at those perfect legs. Pervert. His inner voice snapped him out of his fascination. He shook his head in a vain attempt to make his thoughts disperse. He grabbed a blanket and covered the slumbering angel.

Just as he was about to leave he paused a moment. Would leaving him alone be a good idea? Alfred knew that he sure as hell wouldn't like waking up in a stranger's bed. But… Alfred bit his lip. It looks like he's drunk so he could leave for a while.

He sighed. Not that there's anything he had to do at (he glanced at the clock) 11:48 at night. He grabbed the chair from his desk and brought it over to the bedside. He drifted to sleep watching the angel breathe.

~X~

Sunlight through the shades pricked his eyes. His neck and back were sore from sleeping upright and he had to untwine his arms and legs from how he's had them crossed all night. He stretched and heard a moan.

Where he placed the angel last night there as now a lump under the covers. He stood up and leaned over the figure, "Hey, dude, you awake?"

"Please don't yell. And turn off the bloody light, would you?"

Ah, hangover. Alfred smirked as he moved to shut the blinds. When the room was sufficiently dark enough he turned back to see the figure still huddled under the blanket, "Better?"

"Sure." The angel crawled from its place under the blanket and turned to look blearily at Alfred. Then his situation seemed to hit him like a brick and Alfred couldn't help but smile at the emotions of shock, embarrassment, slight fear, and confusion that crossed his face. As quickly as anyone with a hardcore hangover could, the angel scrambled out of the bed to the opposite side of the room, "Where the bloody hell am I? Who are you? What…?"

"You're in my apartment after I saved you from crashing to your death on my roof. Nothing happened. And my name," he struck a pose just for the hell of it, "Is Alfred F. Jones! Can I get you anything?"

Then angel rubbed his temples, "Yes, actually, you could make me a pot of tea."

Alfred faltered, "Uh, I don't have tea. I could make you coffee…"

The angel muttered, "Bullocks," before sighing, "Just boil the water then if you will."

"Uh… sure."

As he left for the kitchen he grabbed the angel's wrist gently to make him follow. Immediately he turned red and sputtered, "Oi! Wha-What the bloody he…" before being shown a couch to sit on.

"I only have a pot to boil it in. 's that alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine." As Alfred put the water on, the angel spoke from the couch, "You're taking my being an angel rather well."

Alfred chuckled, "Oddly enough. How else was I supposed to take it? I wasn't going to send you to a lab or whatever."

"Most people take me as a 'heavenly sign' or some nonsense like that."

Good thing I didn't assume. Alfred shrugged, "I was never the religious sort." He went to sit beside the angel.

He raised his thick eyebrows, "Then what do you take me as?"

Alfred shrugged again, "Paranormal phenomenon. Something outside the norm."

The angel looked slightly impressed and amused, "Yes, well, I suppose so." He fell silent and didn't seem intent on explaining the matter.

So Alfred pressed another one, "You're British." He said it with a grin.

He raised an eyebrow, "Very good. How did you figure that out?"

Alfred pretended to pout, "You're not being real nice to someone who saved your life."

The angel looked slightly embarrassed, "Erm… Quite right," he paused a moment, "I'm Arthur Kirkland, thanks for catching me. It was that last bit of rum that did me in."

"No problem. I'm a hero, I'm supposed to help people."

Arthur rubbed his temples again, "Of course you are."

Alfred grinned, then, "So, why'd you get yourself so wasted anyway? Are angel's even allowed to do that?"

Arthur twisted his mouth into a wry smirk, "I'm not a bloody seraph. I'm allowed to do what I want so long as it doesn't cause mass chaos."

"Seraph?"

Arthur waved his hand as if to brush it away, "A real, higher ranking angel with legitimate duties and whatnot."

"You're not a real angel?"

"Of course I'm a bloody real angel! What else would I be, a mutant dove!" He stopped Alfred before he could speak, "Don't answer that, git. Stop interrupting me." He took a couple deep breaths before he started while Alfred fidgeted eagerly. "Alright, there are several different types of angels. Some are messengers between that world and this, some are warriors, guardians, among several others. I'm of a much lower class, a class mostly created out of pity." Arthur sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions while crossing his legs, "While we were people we… lacked something, and therefore our lives were distorted and incomplete. So we're given ten years to find what we lacked and make up for it, and we continue our lives. Should we not find whatever it is by midnight on the final day of our tenth year we return to…" he waved his hand in an upward motion, meaning a world above this one, "To be judged on where then we should… end up." Arthur flushed slightly and looked away, "I'm running out of time."

Alfred sat silently for a minute, then he got up to pour the boiling water from the pan to a mug which he brought to Arthur before taking his seat again. "What is it? Do you know what you're looking for?"

Arthur grasped the mug, and blushed again, "There was only one thing my life lacked but I never gave it much thought. I've never been in love," he turned to look Alfred square in the eye, daring him to say anything.

Alfred stopped to ponder a moment. For whatever reason, he was inclined to believe what Arthur told him. If he really was sent back to earth to look for love, how in the world was he supposed to make that happen? Alfred, as heroic and romantic as he seemed, found it difficult to believe much in "love" these days. It's not that Arthur wouldn't attract attention (quite the contrary, Alfred felt no shame in admitting the angel with a British accent was very good looking), but in his current state it probably wouldn't be the right form of attention. He looked (was) like an angel, for Christ's sake! Probably was not going to be seducing anyone with the wings and halo.

"May I ask what you are staring at?" Arthur's voice snapped him from his thoughts as he realized he was staring rather intently at the smirking angel.

"Ah! I was just wondering how you were supposed to fall in love looking like…" he gestured to indicate the angelic form. Arthur's smirk widened as he took a sip from the cup, "And why are you drinking hot wat-HOLY FU…!"

Without even registering the change, it happened so fast, Arthur's dress...er angelic garb turned into a rather respectable casual-formal outfit that seemed to suit the Brit perfectly. Now wearing slacks and a white shirt completely with forest green sweater vest, sipping the steaming liquid in the cup, Alfred suddenly felt very unrefined. "And it's tea, you git, You should try it sometime," he made a face at the mug, "Though, I assure you, the real stuff tastes ten times better than whatever this is I can create." He sipped again, letting his green emerald gaze slide over the figure on the opposite side of the couch, "Do close your mouth, I believe you're attracting flies."

Finally realizing he was gaping at Arthur, he shut his mouth and attempted to form words, "Wha… How… You turned that into tea?"

Arthur snorted, "Is that the only thing you can think to say?"

"I wish I could change like that in the morning. It could shave ten minutes off my morning routine."

Arthur shook his head sadly, though still fairly amused, "You really are a moron. The only thing I really can't change is," he scowled and gestured to the top of his head.

Alfred had just noticed it too. The halo, it seems, only faded, not vanished completely there was till a slight slow encircling his head. Eventually managing to speak again, Alfred managed to ask, "Is this part of your," he made an inclusive gesture, "Being an angel thing? So are there many angle just walking around acting like people?"

"No. Well, sort of. The wings are easy to fade. But others need to purchase new clothing."

"But you…"

"Yes, I've always been gifted," he frowned at Alfred's disbelieving face, "Do you really not believe me? I just changed my whole attire before your face and am now drinking tea. You can't be that thick."

"It's just… a little unbelievable really," he glanced at Arthur's glare and quickly continued, "But I'm gonna believe you. It's probably the only thing keeping me slightly sane."

The angel gave an exasperated sigh, "Well, that's better than nothing I suppose. If you're so inclined, I'm actually in need of your assistance."

"Uh, sure, whatcha need?"

Arthur locked his fiery emerald eyes with Alfred's sky blue, "Help me fall in love."

Heeeyyyy new chapter! Please forgive my a)inaccuracies b)spelling/grammer mistakes.
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