Flight- 1a/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 12:38:38 UTC
“So, what’s this about?” Alfred asked as Francis let him into his house, looking around for anything that might be a clue as to why he’d been invited over.
The Frenchman gave him a secretive smile, but his excitement was tangible. “I have something to show you,” he said unhelpfully, leading him through the hallway and to the kitchen, and then guiding him out the back door. Alfred shivered slightly in the cold air and tried to dismiss the soft feeling that something was amiss, watching Francis move to a second door at the side of the house. It opened, revealing a set of stone steps leading downwards.
“Dude, if this is another one of your creepy techniques…” Alfred trailed off, looking cautiously between Francis and the basement steps.
His companion laughed easily, shaking his head. “I promise it is not. After you,” he said with a sweeping gesture.
Another wary look then Alfred walked to the steps, one hand going to the wooden hand-rail and eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.
He heard Francis follow behind him and kept walking into the darkness, almost tripping when the ground levelled out. Waiting for his host, Alfred kept one hand against the wall instinctively as he tried to see into the blackness. He could hear something moving.
A light flicked on and Alfred blinked as his eyes readjusted. Francis gave him an excited and expectant grin, before pointing behind him. Alfred turned around and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft gasp.
Re: Flight- 1b/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 12:39:00 UTC
An elegant metal cage hung near the back of the room, in the middle of the ceiling, suspended by a thick chain. It was a fancy piece of craftsmanship, rather exquisite, but the beauty of it vanished in wake of the creature it contained.
An angel, was the simplest description. The wings, they were the first part you saw, even though they were scrunched together to fit the confines of the cage. Huge and delicate, but somehow retaining an air of extreme power and fluidity, the most beautiful shade of shimmering white. They looked soft and enticing, begging to be touched. They faded seamlessly into flawless skin at the shoulders of the young man in the cage, who was just a beautiful as his wings. Pale skin that was without imperfection, elegant arms that led to elegant hands that were loosely interlocked by his ankles to keep his knees against in his chest. The soles of his feet looked as if they’d never met the hardness of the earth, not ever known a day’s work of walking. The angel’s hair was golden, not long enough to hang at his shoulders but not short enough to look unnatural and forced. It was messy, strands and locks in every direction, falling to cover his eyes in places.
That was the only part of him that Alfred thought, in the distant part of his mind that was still thinking and not overcome with wonder, was not fitting the conventional image of angels. The angel’s eyes did not belie the rest of his beauty, rather, they were a stunning combination of greens, swirling in a mix that was almost hypnotic. But angel’s eyes should be calm and wise. These eyes were furious, over spilling with anger, and scared. Fear, almost hidden beneath layers of rage, freezing Alfred’s heart and making it like stone.
“Fascinating, isn’t he,” Francis said from next to him, watching his stunned reaction with satisfaction.
Alfred nodded in mute agreement, eyes still fixed on the beautiful creature in the cage, well aware that the forest-green eyes were watching him too.
“I had to tape his mouth,” Francis said, sounding disappointed. “He was making such a fuss.”
Alfred registered for the first time the extent to the creature’s imprisonment. There was a strip of silvery tape over his mouth, his ankles and wrists were chained so they couldn’t move further than a few centimetres in any direction. The only limbs not hampered were the wings, but the cage was too small to allow them to stretch out, keeping them bunched uncomfortably behind their owner.
Francis followed Alfred’s gaze to the creature’s captured hands and under their twin gazes one hand fisted and turned towards them. The angels’ middle finger came up slowly and deliberately. When Alfred glanced back up to the creatures face, even without being able to see his mouth Alfred could tell the creature was smirking.
Letting out an amused laugh, Francis shook his head. “Far more pleasant company silenced even so, I’m sure you’ll understand.”
Still speechless, possibly for the first time in his life, Alfred only nodded, bewitched by the unspeakable sadness that came as a combination between the anger and fright in the angel’s eyes.
“Do you want something to eat?” Francis said conversationally, pleased with Alfred’s awed reaction. “I have drinks and things upstairs…?” he offered, as if there wasn’t another in the rom.
The prospect of food was enough to coax back Alfred tongue. “That sounds good,” he agreed, tearing his eyes from the imprisoned angel.
Francis led him back up the stairs but Alfred’s stayed in the basement, watching the young man with stupefied fascination.
Flight- 2a/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 14:28:28 UTC
After he’d eaten, Alfred asked to see the angel again. Francis had told him that there were things he needed to be doing, but gave the American an indulgent smile and said he could go down alone, if he wished. Alfred walked down the cold steps, then turned to the wall and groped for the light. The room became illuminated and he looked in the direction of the cage. As if he had been expecting Alfred’s return, the angel’s eyes unerringly met his, expression still as smooth, fierce and beautiful as before.
“Hi,” Alfred said softly, moving forward cautiously. He was met with a sour look and the creature looked pointedly away. Frowning, Alfred walked a bit closer.
“You okay?” he said, for lack of anything else to say. The angel’s eyes snapped back to his and a sharp motion sent all the chains clanging, the sound painfully loud.
“Huh. I guess you have a point,” Alfred said weakly. “Sorry.”
Not acknowledging the apology, the skin of the angels face around the tape moved furiously, either trying to speak despite the obstacle or attempting to remove it.
“Do you want me to get it off?” Alfred asked and when the angel froze he smiled, sensing an opportunity.
He walked up so he was level with the cage and lifted one hand to rest against the bars. The angel eyed him apprehensively, slowly lowering his face down to be even with the hand. Alfred poked two of his fingers between the metal strips, all he was able to.
“Just try and catch the tape between my nails,” he suggested his voice friendly. “And I’ll hold onto it.”
Expression promising retribution if anything happened that the angel did not like, he slowly moved forward to Alfred’s finger tips. The angel’s skin touched Alfred’s, and felt exactly as he’d imagined. The yielding expanse of the angel’s cheek met Alfred’s fingertips and he instinctively moved them to stroke the soft skin. With an angered noise muffled by the tape, the angel sprung away, pressing itself against the other side of the cage, giving Alfred a disgusted look.
“Sorry!” Alfred said quickly, retracting his hand and cursing his slip. “I wasn’t thinking!”
A muted snarl was the response.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred repeated, putting his fingers back through the bars. “I won’t do it again, I’m really sorry.”
The angel looked unconvinced, but crept forward for a second time. This time Alfred kept completely still until he felt the material of the tape, pinching it between his nails. The angel moved back, wincing as the tape came away to reveal perfect pale pink lips, slightly reddened by the removal of the tape.
The angel looked away from Alfred, gasping as air once again was allowed to be sucked into his mouth, bringing his face down to his chained hands so he could use his own fingers to delicately massage his sore cheeks and mouth.
“Better?” Alfred said with a smile.
“Yes,” the angel replied shortly. The voice fitted the rest of him perfectly, smooth and enchanting, slightly accented.
“Do I get a thanks?”
“Not when it was one of your friends who’s trapped me,” the angel snapped voice quietly furious.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Alfred replied. “All I’ve done-“
“Is come to watch me like an animal in a zoo,” is the harsh interruption. The angel turned back to him, and something changed in the green eyes. As if a light had gone on. Alfred fought the urge to fidget as the angels gaze ran over him, simultaneously trying to squash his confusion.
Flight- 2b/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 14:29:02 UTC
The angel spoke again, voice more amiable, slightly ashamed. “That was uncalled for,” he admitted quietly.
“A bit,” Alfred agreed his relief evident.
Something had shifted in the angel’s demeanour, his body language. He moved towards Alfred without his previous caution, forehead leaning against the metal bars near to where the man’s fingers still lingered, heedless of his arms being pulled uncomfortably behind him.
“Thank you for taking off the tape.”
“No problem,” Alfred said happily. “It’s what heroes do.”
The angel’s lips curved up into a smile. “Naturally you are a hero.”
“Of course!” Alfred agreed, glad to meet someone who shared this sentiment, sky blue eyes locked with the angel’s.
“Does that make me the damsel?” the angel asked, and Alfred frowned slightly, though his pleased grin still lingered.
“Nah, you’re a guy,” he said with a shake of his head. “But you were still in distress, so it counts.”
The angel nodded agreeably and his head moved towards Alfred’s fingertips, subtly enough that Alfred didn’t realise he was doing so till he felt the gentle pressure against his fingers.
He gave them a confused look, his gaze slipping down to meet the angel’s eyes. They looked back at him, innocent but inviting. As he watched the angel tilted his head up, revealing the pale spread of his neck, to brush Alfred’s fingertips with his lips.
“You don’t think you could open the cage?” he asked softly, his breath playing against Alfred’s fingers.
“I-“
“Please?” the angel pressed, tone sweet and pleading. The proximity of his mouth and Alfred’s lingering fingers meant his teeth gently scraped against the sensitive flesh on the pads of his fingers.
Alfred’s hand went to the cage lock, turning the key that had been left there. The angel let out a pleased sigh, closing his eyes briefly before looking at his chained feet.
“Liberate me?” he asked tantalisingly, honing on Alfred’s love for heroics with infallible accuracy.
The same key for the cage fitted the locks around the angel’s ankles. The angel anxiously pushed his wrists towards Alfred, desperation to be free making him squirm and rock he cage. His fingertips ghosted against the frame of Alfred’s face and the man’s eyes slipped briefly closed, opening again when the angel spoke.
“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes locked on Alfred’s hands as they freed his right hand.
“Alfred,” Alfred replied with a smile, thrilled by the look the angel gave him when the green eyes flicked up from his left wrist.
“Alfred,” the angel echoed, the name rolling delicately off his tongue and making Alfred shiver.
The final lock clicked open and the angel rubbed his free wrists tenderly, not looking at Alfred.
Flight- 3a/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 14:32:56 UTC
Alfred didn’t have chance to respond before there was an explosion of movement. The angel shot out of the cage, knocking Alfred to the ground but landing gracefully on its own feet. Arthur stretched out his arms, wings unfurling to reveal their true majesty, but the motion made Arthur wince and his legs buckle, sending him to the floor.
“Bloody hell,” the angel groaned, hands going to the beautiful feathers and cringing as he touched them. “Pins and needles, it would be wouldn’t it.”
Alfred looked at him blankly, twigging slowly to the fact he’d been duped, and got to his feet. “What?”
“Stay there!” Arthur said quickly, struggling back up right, blanching, probably due to the stiffness in his limbs. “Don’t move!”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur responded agitatedly, swaying on his feet. “I’m trying to escape from the bastard who locked me in a cage.” He legs gave out again and he was only saved from hitting the floor because Alfred darted forward to catch him.
“Get off,” the angel ordered. “Let go of me, now!”
“You’ll fall over again, if I do,” Alfred pointed out reasonably enough, arm slipping down to hook itself beneath the angel’s legs while the other awkwardly kept his body upright around his wings.
“Don’t put me back in the cage, don’t you dare!” Arthur hissed, but the fear in his voice was obvious.
“Calm down,” Alfred said soothingly. “I promise I won’t, I wouldn’t,” he said reassuringly, bringing the angel closer to him.
“I don’t believe you,” Arthur said, frantically struggling in Alfred’s strong grip.
“You have to trust me, or you’re not going to be able to get out,” Alfred said coaxingly, trying to get the angel to relax. “I promise I won’t put you in any cage, I’m going to help you get out. I’m a hero, remember, heroes keep their promises.”
Arthur stopped twisting in his arms, through acceptance or lack of energy to fight, Alfred wasn’t sure.
“Good. Okay, just hang tight for a bit, okay?” Alfred said, navigating his way to the stairs and then climbing them, carefully keeping the angel in his arms from getting knocked. Arthur was light, even though he should have been heavier than average because of his wings. Alfred was momentarily distracted by the soft feathers pressing against the bare skin of his neck, but he forced himself to ignore it. It was impossible that the angel should have been this light, this skinny.
“Was Francis feeding you at all?” he murmured to himself, but the angel replied bitterly.
“Only when he remembered. Not enough.” A beat later and in a voice so soft it was almost non-existent; “I’m so tired.”
Alfred’s grip tightened minutely, protectively and he carefully opened the door out of the basement without dropping the angel.
Flight- 3b/?
anonymous
April 25 2011, 14:33:22 UTC
Both of them shivered as they came in contact with the still chilling wind, and despite Arthur moving to try and put his bare feet on the ground, Alfred kept carrying him.
“You can’t try to fly in this, can you?” Alfred guessed, looking up at the grey and windy sky. “Not when you’re as weak as you are.”
“I am not weak,” the angel snapped, but apart from that he did not argue.
“You can come back to my house,” Alfred offered tentatively, aware that at any moment Francis might come and find him running off with his new pet. “No, I will not go from one prison to another,” Arthur protested, renewing his attempts to get out of Alfred’s arms.
“I won’t keep you prisoner,” Alfred asserted, not relinquishing his grip and walking towards where he’d parked his car in Francis’ drive. “You can stay at my house until you’re healthy enough to fly, and then you can go where ever you like, okay?”
Suspicion rolled of the angel in waves, but Alfred could sense his grudging acceptance. Really, Arthur didn’t have any other choice but to agree to help, even if he did not fully trust it.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly and Alfred smiled, heart skipping a beat inside his chest.
Arthur’s feet briefly met the jagged stones that made up Francis’ drive, but the angel was gently pushed into the back seat of the car a moment later. Alfred paused, looking up at Francis’ house. Should he tell Francis that he was leaving?
“Wait here, okay? I’ll only be a minute,” he said to Arthur, who was regarding him guardedly.
He went back up to the house, finding Francis in his office and giving him an excuse for leaving early, ignoring the feeling of guilt in his stomach. What would Francis do when he realised Arthur was gone?
Slipping into the front seat of the car, Alfred gave the still observing angel a reassuring grin. “We’re good to go,” he said cheerily, ignoring the dark looks he was getting. He backed the car out into the road and sped away, watching Arthur turn to look out the back window in his mirror. The angel’s expression momentarily softened into pure relief, the thrill of escape unguarded on his face. Arthur turned to catch Alfred’s gaze in the mirror and offered him an honest smile, unlike the seductive ones he’d given in the basement, or the icy glares he’d conveyed in every other moment. Alfred gave him an accomplished grin in response, and the angel looked away, laying down along the full length of the seats, his own wings encasing him in a feathery cocoon.
I love this so far. Arthur manipulating Alfred's emotion and sense of heroism like that was mean but justified in a way. Also Alfred carrying Arthur is too cute.
Can't wait to read more of this! :)
PS: Hope we learn how Francis manage to get Arthur in the first place.
Oh A!A, this fill is just perfect <33 It's exactly what I pictured in my mind for the prompt. I'm grinning so hard, you have no idea!
I love how you described angel!arthur, and I think you kept both Arthur and Alfred wonderfully in character. I'm so excited to see where you take this!! Thank you so much for filling! <3
It hadn’t been too difficult getting up to Alfred’s hotel room. Arthur had flat out refused to just walk straight through the hotel lobby and Alfred couldn’t really argue with the sentiment. In the end they had simply gone up the fire escape to the third floor, Alfred carrying Arthur and resisting the temptation to pause and nuzzle into the downy feathers of Arthur’s wings.
Back in the hotel room, Alfred let the angel slip out of his arms and to his feet and gave him a worried look as Arthur’s eyes fell on the single bed.
“I only booked for one person,” he said apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. “You can have it, don’t worry. I-“
“Calm down,” the angel said sternly. “It’s fine.” Arthur walked over to the room’s lone seat and dropped into it with tired grace, the white material of the tunic-like clothing he was wearing sliding up past his knees as he did so.
“Hungry?” asked Alfred as he kicked off his shoes. “We can get room service.”
“You have no idea how good that sounds,” Arthur replied, smiling faintly. Alfred bounced onto the bed, landing on his knees as he reached out to get the phone on his bedside table. Dialling the number for room service, he turned back to look at Arthur. The angel seemed to have lost interest in him, moving round in his chair to eye up the desk. It was empty except for a tray, and that was what had caught Arthur’s attention. The tray itself contained a plastic kettle and an assortment of little sachets; of coffee, tea and hot chocolate.
Vaguely aware that he’d just ordered everything the hotel had to offer except for desserts, Alfred’s lips tilted into an amused smile at the angel’s enthusiasm as he flicked the switch to turn on the kettle and found a cup for the teabags.
Thanking the man on the other end of the phone line, Alfred watched Arthur avidly watch the kettle with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“You’ve woken up a bit,” he said not harshly, smiling when the angel turned to look at him.
“I’ve not had a cup of tea in days,” Arthur all but moaned. Remembering himself he blushed lightly, faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Do you want anything?”
“Coffee,” Alfred replied promptly and without any thought required. Which was fortunate, because his mind was mulling over the ‘days’ part of Arthur’s reply.
“Should have known you’d have no taste,” Arthur responded, scrunching up his nose in an adorable way that made Alfred internally melt.
“Dude, there isn’t anything wrong with coffee,” Alfred protested.
“There isn’t anything right with it either,” was the smirk accompanied response.
Alfred pouted, leaning back against the padded head board. The kettle light switched off as the water boiled and Arthur looked back to it, picking it up and carefully distributing the water between the two mugs.
“Milk?”
“Yes please, and sugar.”
Arthur passed Alfred the steaming cup, still looking unsteady on his feet, and then sank back down into the chair, nursing his own drink with a sort of reverence.
“The food won’t be long, okay?” Alfred said in between blowing on his coffee.
He’d offered to buy something at a drive-thru but Arthur, despite his weak state and the fact he’d only just woken up from sleeping in the back seat, had adamantly protested.
“Stop worrying, Alfred,” the angel said, green eyes fixed on his tea. “I’m not going to just collapse.”
Unconvinced, Alfred took a sip of his coffee, ignoring the hot liquid burning his tongue as he swallowed. “You said ‘days’,” he commented eventually.
The angel looked at him evenly. “I did.”
“How long had you been at Francis’?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” Alfred gaped. “I thought he only just found you!”
Arthur shook his head, green eyes still meeting Alfred’s.
“And he forgot to feed you?”
“I’m not sure that 'forgot' is the right term. He did not feed me, except for the first time I woke up. He gave me fruit, and then after that seemed to decide that along with wings comes a lack of need for basics like food.”
Alfred gaped at him. “He gave you water though?”
The angel nodded. “In a dish.”
Sinking into silence, neither spoke again till there was a knock at the door that told them their food had arrived.
After they’d both finished eating- and between them they did manage to get through everything- Alfred sat back onto the bed, flicking through the channels with the TV remote. It was getting late and the amount of good shows on the four available channels was deteriorating.
Arthur got up from his seat and Alfred turned his head to watch him approach, eyes questioning. The angel gave him a look and then climbed onto the bed to sit between Alfred’s legs without explanation.
“Um,” Alfred said intelligently. “What?”
“I can’t see from over there,” Arthur said simply and Alfred didn’t argue. Cautiously, he moved his arms to encircle the angel’s waist, relaxing when the angel didn’t move away or hit him.
“Hey!” he let out an indignant yelp as the channel changed. He hadn’t noticed the remote being taken from his hand.
He could feel the angel’s grin even though he couldn’t see it. The television was now showing a part of a history documentary on some obscure topic.
“You’re joking,” Alfred moaned, “We’re not watching this.”
“We are, actually,” Arthur said contentedly, leaning back onto Alfred comfortably.
Groaning, Alfred dropped his head down into Arthur’s hair. “Are you sure you’re an angel and not a demon?” he complained.
Arthur went tense and Alfred internally kicked himself. “Sorry. Is that a really bad thing to say?”
“There’s a difference between an angel,” Arthur said softly, Alfred going quiet, “And just a man with wings.”
Not sure what to do, Alfred slipped his hand down to the remote and pulled it out of Arthur’s lax grip, changing the channel again. It had the desired effect; Arthur let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a huff, the bad mood dispersing.
The angel- despite what Arthur had said it was still how Alfred thought of him- moved out of Alfred’s reach, turning to sit at the other end of the bed.
“So what is the plan for sleeping,” Arthur asked, hands hooking delicately round his ankles as he crossed his legs.
“You can take the bed, I’ll have the floor,” Alfred replied.
The angel rolled his eyes. “How could I forget your chivalry? Can’t complain…” he tailed off. “Do you,” he paused, then continued hesitantly, “Have a spare change of clothes I could borrow?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course,” Alfred said, slipping off the bed. “They’ll probably all be a bit big for you,” he warned.
“Least of my problems, I think,” Arthur replied, catching the t-shirt Alfred threw at him while the American continued to rifle through his half-unpacked suit case. “Do you mind if I rip this?”
“Huh? Oh, right, the wings. Knock yourself out,” Alfred said easily. “I don’t have spare pyjama pants,” he realised a moment later, looking at Arthur.
“Trousers,” Arthur corrected under his breath. “Okay… Any suggestions? I can’t sleep in just this,” he held up the t-shirt.
Alfred was about to suggest that he could, but kept quiet. “I have new boxers?” he offered instead, producing a set of three still in the packet.
Looking hesitant, Arthur nodded anyway, walking past Alfred and taking the packet and going into the small bathroom.
“Are you going to get changed out here?” he asked, pausing in the doorway. Alfred nodded. “It’s getting late, so yeah, think I will,” he replied, fishing the top and shorts that qualified as his pyjamas out of his bag.
Echoing the nod, Arthur offered him a faint smile before stepping back into the bathroom and shutting the door.
Alfred had slept in the same hotel room the night before and he was certain that it hadn’t seemed so dark and creepy then. He curled up tighter on himself, pulling the cover with him as he did. Maybe it was more frightening this time round because he was on the floor; a cold draft was wrapping itself around him with an eerie whisper.
He rolled over agitatedly, closing his eyes and starting to count to a hundred. He managed to get to twenty six before he moved again.
“Are you sleeping on nails?” Arthur’s voice murmured the reprimand across the room.
“Sorry,” Alfred said in response, though he didn't stop moving about and trying to get comfortable.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he replied, voice defiant. “It’s nothing.”
“’Nothing’ has been bothering you for a good hour, Alfred.”
“It’s cold,” Alfred said reluctantly. “And I think the hotel's haunted.”
There was a soft laugh. “You’re scared of ghosts?”
“I’m not terrified of them or anything,” Alfred protested, sitting up slightly and trying to see the angel through the darkness. There was a soft thump from the floor above and Alfred let out a muffled yelp despite himself.
“Of course not,” the angel’s voice sounded a touch amused and Alfred pouted, despite knowing he couldn’t be seen.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not,” Arthur denied unconvincingly. A second thump from the ceiling had Alfred on his feet and half way to the bed, a surprised Arthur sitting up and watching him with a mix of amusement and suspicion.
“What?” the angel asked cautiously, a pale, shady form in the backness. His wings had been wrapped up around him like a no doubt luxurious blanket- he’d given Alfred the cover in exchange for the bed- but now they were unfurling as the angel tensed. Alfred did not reply; just hovered nervously, eyes flicking to the ceiling as it hung invisibly over him.
The angel seemed to catch on and relaxed slightly. “Oh, fine,” he said with what Alfred fancied to be forced reluctance. “Make sure you bring your duvet with you or you’ll freeze.”
Alfred grinned, quickly moving to scoop up his blanket then slip down onto the bed as Arthur moved over. The angel took the cover from him, spreading it over himself while leaving enough for Alfred to stay warm beneath it.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling instantly more comfortable and less scared.
Arthur didn’t reply for a moment. “Don’t get used to it,” he said eventually.
Shifting around on the mattress, Alfred ended up on his side, one arm beneath the shared pillow and the other wrapped loosely around his stomach. He could feel Arthur’s wings against his back, warm and comfortable.
“Arthur?” he asked into the darkness a few minutes later, half-expecting the angel to be asleep.
“Yes?”
Alfred paused. He had a question he needed to ask and one he wanted answering, but it was undoubtedly one that wouldn’t be well received. Curiosity warred with conscience before his decision was made for him.
“Spit it out then.”
Taking a slightly deeper breath than he needed Alfred turned over, eyes on the still part of Arthur’s back he could see between his wings before they closed in preparation for his question. “How did Francis catch you?”
Silence met his words and dragged on long enough for Alfred to back track.
“You don’t have to say, I was just wondering,” he said, biting his lower lip.
The springs of the mattress let out a whine and Alfred opened his eyes to find Arthur’s face only a few inches from his own.
Blue eyes looked into green for a few moments before the latter closed as Arthur let out an almost non-existent sigh.
“Do you think I’m beautiful, Alfred?”
He thought that maybe he should have been at least a little startled by the question, but Alfred replied without hesitation.
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
An unhappy smile marred Arthur’s expression. “All angels are beautiful. Where would you say angels live, Alfred?”
“Heaven?” Alfred suggested. “In the clouds?”
“Right on both accounts, though it depends on your definitions of both. We call it Heaven, though I have never seen a God there, and among the clouds but not the ones that bring rain. It’ll sound strange, but where I came from is as insubstantial as I was before I ended up here.”
The Frenchman gave him a secretive smile, but his excitement was tangible. “I have something to show you,” he said unhelpfully, leading him through the hallway and to the kitchen, and then guiding him out the back door. Alfred shivered slightly in the cold air and tried to dismiss the soft feeling that something was amiss, watching Francis move to a second door at the side of the house. It opened, revealing a set of stone steps leading downwards.
“Dude, if this is another one of your creepy techniques…” Alfred trailed off, looking cautiously between Francis and the basement steps.
His companion laughed easily, shaking his head. “I promise it is not. After you,” he said with a sweeping gesture.
Another wary look then Alfred walked to the steps, one hand going to the wooden hand-rail and eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.
He heard Francis follow behind him and kept walking into the darkness, almost tripping when the ground levelled out. Waiting for his host, Alfred kept one hand against the wall instinctively as he tried to see into the blackness. He could hear something moving.
A light flicked on and Alfred blinked as his eyes readjusted. Francis gave him an excited and expectant grin, before pointing behind him. Alfred turned around and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft gasp.
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An angel, was the simplest description. The wings, they were the first part you saw, even though they were scrunched together to fit the confines of the cage. Huge and delicate, but somehow retaining an air of extreme power and fluidity, the most beautiful shade of shimmering white. They looked soft and enticing, begging to be touched. They faded seamlessly into flawless skin at the shoulders of the young man in the cage, who was just a beautiful as his wings. Pale skin that was without imperfection, elegant arms that led to elegant hands that were loosely interlocked by his ankles to keep his knees against in his chest. The soles of his feet looked as if they’d never met the hardness of the earth, not ever known a day’s work of walking. The angel’s hair was golden, not long enough to hang at his shoulders but not short enough to look unnatural and forced. It was messy, strands and locks in every direction, falling to cover his eyes in places.
That was the only part of him that Alfred thought, in the distant part of his mind that was still thinking and not overcome with wonder, was not fitting the conventional image of angels. The angel’s eyes did not belie the rest of his beauty, rather, they were a stunning combination of greens, swirling in a mix that was almost hypnotic. But angel’s eyes should be calm and wise. These eyes were furious, over spilling with anger, and scared. Fear, almost hidden beneath layers of rage, freezing Alfred’s heart and making it like stone.
“Fascinating, isn’t he,” Francis said from next to him, watching his stunned reaction with satisfaction.
Alfred nodded in mute agreement, eyes still fixed on the beautiful creature in the cage, well aware that the forest-green eyes were watching him too.
“I had to tape his mouth,” Francis said, sounding disappointed. “He was making such a fuss.”
Alfred registered for the first time the extent to the creature’s imprisonment. There was a strip of silvery tape over his mouth, his ankles and wrists were chained so they couldn’t move further than a few centimetres in any direction. The only limbs not hampered were the wings, but the cage was too small to allow them to stretch out, keeping them bunched uncomfortably behind their owner.
Francis followed Alfred’s gaze to the creature’s captured hands and under their twin gazes one hand fisted and turned towards them. The angels’ middle finger came up slowly and deliberately. When Alfred glanced back up to the creatures face, even without being able to see his mouth Alfred could tell the creature was smirking.
Letting out an amused laugh, Francis shook his head. “Far more pleasant company silenced even so, I’m sure you’ll understand.”
Still speechless, possibly for the first time in his life, Alfred only nodded, bewitched by the unspeakable sadness that came as a combination between the anger and fright in the angel’s eyes.
“Do you want something to eat?” Francis said conversationally, pleased with Alfred’s awed reaction. “I have drinks and things upstairs…?” he offered, as if there wasn’t another in the rom.
The prospect of food was enough to coax back Alfred tongue. “That sounds good,” he agreed, tearing his eyes from the imprisoned angel.
Francis led him back up the stairs but Alfred’s stayed in the basement, watching the young man with stupefied fascination.
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After he’d eaten, Alfred asked to see the angel again. Francis had told him that there were things he needed to be doing, but gave the American an indulgent smile and said he could go down alone, if he wished.
Alfred walked down the cold steps, then turned to the wall and groped for the light. The room became illuminated and he looked in the direction of the cage. As if he had been expecting Alfred’s return, the angel’s eyes unerringly met his, expression still as smooth, fierce and beautiful as before.
“Hi,” Alfred said softly, moving forward cautiously. He was met with a sour look and the creature looked pointedly away. Frowning, Alfred walked a bit closer.
“You okay?” he said, for lack of anything else to say. The angel’s eyes snapped back to his and a sharp motion sent all the chains clanging, the sound painfully loud.
“Huh. I guess you have a point,” Alfred said weakly. “Sorry.”
Not acknowledging the apology, the skin of the angels face around the tape moved furiously, either trying to speak despite the obstacle or attempting to remove it.
“Do you want me to get it off?” Alfred asked and when the angel froze he smiled, sensing an opportunity.
He walked up so he was level with the cage and lifted one hand to rest against the bars. The angel eyed him apprehensively, slowly lowering his face down to be even with the hand. Alfred poked two of his fingers between the metal strips, all he was able to.
“Just try and catch the tape between my nails,” he suggested his voice friendly. “And I’ll hold onto it.”
Expression promising retribution if anything happened that the angel did not like, he slowly moved forward to Alfred’s finger tips. The angel’s skin touched Alfred’s, and felt exactly as he’d imagined. The yielding expanse of the angel’s cheek met Alfred’s fingertips and he instinctively moved them to stroke the soft skin. With an angered noise muffled by the tape, the angel sprung away, pressing itself against the other side of the cage, giving Alfred a disgusted look.
“Sorry!” Alfred said quickly, retracting his hand and cursing his slip. “I wasn’t thinking!”
A muted snarl was the response.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred repeated, putting his fingers back through the bars. “I won’t do it again, I’m really sorry.”
The angel looked unconvinced, but crept forward for a second time. This time Alfred kept completely still until he felt the material of the tape, pinching it between his nails. The angel moved back, wincing as the tape came away to reveal perfect pale pink lips, slightly reddened by the removal of the tape.
The angel looked away from Alfred, gasping as air once again was allowed to be sucked into his mouth, bringing his face down to his chained hands so he could use his own fingers to delicately massage his sore cheeks and mouth.
“Better?” Alfred said with a smile.
“Yes,” the angel replied shortly. The voice fitted the rest of him perfectly, smooth and enchanting, slightly accented.
“Do I get a thanks?”
“Not when it was one of your friends who’s trapped me,” the angel snapped voice quietly furious.
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Alfred replied. “All I’ve done-“
“Is come to watch me like an animal in a zoo,” is the harsh interruption. The angel turned back to him, and something changed in the green eyes. As if a light had gone on. Alfred fought the urge to fidget as the angels gaze ran over him, simultaneously trying to squash his confusion.
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“A bit,” Alfred agreed his relief evident.
Something had shifted in the angel’s demeanour, his body language. He moved towards Alfred without his previous caution, forehead leaning against the metal bars near to where the man’s fingers still lingered, heedless of his arms being pulled uncomfortably behind him.
“Thank you for taking off the tape.”
“No problem,” Alfred said happily. “It’s what heroes do.”
The angel’s lips curved up into a smile. “Naturally you are a hero.”
“Of course!” Alfred agreed, glad to meet someone who shared this sentiment, sky blue eyes locked with the angel’s.
“Does that make me the damsel?” the angel asked, and Alfred frowned slightly, though his pleased grin still lingered.
“Nah, you’re a guy,” he said with a shake of his head. “But you were still in distress, so it counts.”
The angel nodded agreeably and his head moved towards Alfred’s fingertips, subtly enough that Alfred didn’t realise he was doing so till he felt the gentle pressure against his fingers.
He gave them a confused look, his gaze slipping down to meet the angel’s eyes. They looked back at him, innocent but inviting. As he watched the angel tilted his head up, revealing the pale spread of his neck, to brush Alfred’s fingertips with his lips.
“You don’t think you could open the cage?” he asked softly, his breath playing against Alfred’s fingers.
“I-“
“Please?” the angel pressed, tone sweet and pleading. The proximity of his mouth and Alfred’s lingering fingers meant his teeth gently scraped against the sensitive flesh on the pads of his fingers.
Alfred’s hand went to the cage lock, turning the key that had been left there. The angel let out a pleased sigh, closing his eyes briefly before looking at his chained feet.
“Liberate me?” he asked tantalisingly, honing on Alfred’s love for heroics with infallible accuracy.
The same key for the cage fitted the locks around the angel’s ankles. The angel anxiously pushed his wrists towards Alfred, desperation to be free making him squirm and rock he cage. His fingertips ghosted against the frame of Alfred’s face and the man’s eyes slipped briefly closed, opening again when the angel spoke.
“What’s your name?” he asked, eyes locked on Alfred’s hands as they freed his right hand.
“Alfred,” Alfred replied with a smile, thrilled by the look the angel gave him when the green eyes flicked up from his left wrist.
“Alfred,” the angel echoed, the name rolling delicately off his tongue and making Alfred shiver.
The final lock clicked open and the angel rubbed his free wrists tenderly, not looking at Alfred.
“My name’s Arthur. You have my thanks.”
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“Bloody hell,” the angel groaned, hands going to the beautiful feathers and cringing as he touched them. “Pins and needles, it would be wouldn’t it.”
Alfred looked at him blankly, twigging slowly to the fact he’d been duped, and got to his feet. “What?”
“Stay there!” Arthur said quickly, struggling back up right, blanching, probably due to the stiffness in his limbs. “Don’t move!”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Arthur responded agitatedly, swaying on his feet. “I’m trying to escape from the bastard who locked me in a cage.” He legs gave out again and he was only saved from hitting the floor because Alfred darted forward to catch him.
“Get off,” the angel ordered. “Let go of me, now!”
“You’ll fall over again, if I do,” Alfred pointed out reasonably enough, arm slipping down to hook itself beneath the angel’s legs while the other awkwardly kept his body upright around his wings.
“Don’t put me back in the cage, don’t you dare!” Arthur hissed, but the fear in his voice was obvious.
“Calm down,” Alfred said soothingly. “I promise I won’t, I wouldn’t,” he said reassuringly, bringing the angel closer to him.
“I don’t believe you,” Arthur said, frantically struggling in Alfred’s strong grip.
“You have to trust me, or you’re not going to be able to get out,” Alfred said coaxingly, trying to get the angel to relax. “I promise I won’t put you in any cage, I’m going to help you get out. I’m a hero, remember, heroes keep their promises.”
Arthur stopped twisting in his arms, through acceptance or lack of energy to fight, Alfred wasn’t sure.
“Good. Okay, just hang tight for a bit, okay?” Alfred said, navigating his way to the stairs and then climbing them, carefully keeping the angel in his arms from getting knocked. Arthur was light, even though he should have been heavier than average because of his wings. Alfred was momentarily distracted by the soft feathers pressing against the bare skin of his neck, but he forced himself to ignore it. It was impossible that the angel should have been this light, this skinny.
“Was Francis feeding you at all?” he murmured to himself, but the angel replied bitterly.
“Only when he remembered. Not enough.” A beat later and in a voice so soft it was almost non-existent; “I’m so tired.”
Alfred’s grip tightened minutely, protectively and he carefully opened the door out of the basement without dropping the angel.
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“You can’t try to fly in this, can you?” Alfred guessed, looking up at the grey and windy sky. “Not when you’re as weak as you are.”
“I am not weak,” the angel snapped, but apart from that he did not argue.
“You can come back to my house,” Alfred offered tentatively, aware that at any moment Francis might come and find him running off with his new pet.
“No, I will not go from one prison to another,” Arthur protested, renewing his attempts to get out of Alfred’s arms.
“I won’t keep you prisoner,” Alfred asserted, not relinquishing his grip and walking towards where he’d parked his car in Francis’ drive. “You can stay at my house until you’re healthy enough to fly, and then you can go where ever you like, okay?”
Suspicion rolled of the angel in waves, but Alfred could sense his grudging acceptance. Really, Arthur didn’t have any other choice but to agree to help, even if he did not fully trust it.
“Fine,” he said reluctantly and Alfred smiled, heart skipping a beat inside his chest.
Arthur’s feet briefly met the jagged stones that made up Francis’ drive, but the angel was gently pushed into the back seat of the car a moment later. Alfred paused, looking up at Francis’ house. Should he tell Francis that he was leaving?
“Wait here, okay? I’ll only be a minute,” he said to Arthur, who was regarding him guardedly.
He went back up to the house, finding Francis in his office and giving him an excuse for leaving early, ignoring the feeling of guilt in his stomach. What would Francis do when he realised Arthur was gone?
Slipping into the front seat of the car, Alfred gave the still observing angel a reassuring grin. “We’re good to go,” he said cheerily, ignoring the dark looks he was getting. He backed the car out into the road and sped away, watching Arthur turn to look out the back window in his mirror. The angel’s expression momentarily softened into pure relief, the thrill of escape unguarded on his face. Arthur turned to catch Alfred’s gaze in the mirror and offered him an honest smile, unlike the seductive ones he’d given in the basement, or the icy glares he’d conveyed in every other moment. Alfred gave him an accomplished grin in response, and the angel looked away, laying down along the full length of the seats, his own wings encasing him in a feathery cocoon.
Alfred sighed, and looked away.
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Expect more pretty soon, this prompt is fantastic and has kidnapped my mind and time.
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Can't wait to read more of this! :)
PS: Hope we learn how Francis manage to get Arthur in the first place.
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Don't mind me, I'll just be sitting here in this thread, refreshing compulsively.
Looking forward to reading more!
~anon
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I love how you described angel!arthur, and I think you kept both Arthur and Alfred wonderfully in character. I'm so excited to see where you take this!! Thank you so much for filling! <3
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Back in the hotel room, Alfred let the angel slip out of his arms and to his feet and gave him a worried look as Arthur’s eyes fell on the single bed.
“I only booked for one person,” he said apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. “You can have it, don’t worry. I-“
“Calm down,” the angel said sternly. “It’s fine.” Arthur walked over to the room’s lone seat and dropped into it with tired grace, the white material of the tunic-like clothing he was wearing sliding up past his knees as he did so.
“Hungry?” asked Alfred as he kicked off his shoes. “We can get room service.”
“You have no idea how good that sounds,” Arthur replied, smiling faintly.
Alfred bounced onto the bed, landing on his knees as he reached out to get the phone on his bedside table. Dialling the number for room service, he turned back to look at Arthur. The angel seemed to have lost interest in him, moving round in his chair to eye up the desk. It was empty except for a tray, and that was what had caught Arthur’s attention. The tray itself contained a plastic kettle and an assortment of little sachets; of coffee, tea and hot chocolate.
Vaguely aware that he’d just ordered everything the hotel had to offer except for desserts, Alfred’s lips tilted into an amused smile at the angel’s enthusiasm as he flicked the switch to turn on the kettle and found a cup for the teabags.
Thanking the man on the other end of the phone line, Alfred watched Arthur avidly watch the kettle with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“You’ve woken up a bit,” he said not harshly, smiling when the angel turned to look at him.
“I’ve not had a cup of tea in days,” Arthur all but moaned. Remembering himself he blushed lightly, faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Do you want anything?”
“Coffee,” Alfred replied promptly and without any thought required. Which was fortunate, because his mind was mulling over the ‘days’ part of Arthur’s reply.
“Should have known you’d have no taste,” Arthur responded, scrunching up his nose in an adorable way that made Alfred internally melt.
“Dude, there isn’t anything wrong with coffee,” Alfred protested.
“There isn’t anything right with it either,” was the smirk accompanied response.
Alfred pouted, leaning back against the padded head board. The kettle light switched off as the water boiled and Arthur looked back to it, picking it up and carefully distributing the water between the two mugs.
“Milk?”
“Yes please, and sugar.”
Arthur passed Alfred the steaming cup, still looking unsteady on his feet, and then sank back down into the chair, nursing his own drink with a sort of reverence.
“The food won’t be long, okay?” Alfred said in between blowing on his coffee.
He’d offered to buy something at a drive-thru but Arthur, despite his weak state and the fact he’d only just woken up from sleeping in the back seat, had adamantly protested.
“Stop worrying, Alfred,” the angel said, green eyes fixed on his tea. “I’m not going to just collapse.”
Unconvinced, Alfred took a sip of his coffee, ignoring the hot liquid burning his tongue as he swallowed. “You said ‘days’,” he commented eventually.
The angel looked at him evenly. “I did.”
“How long had you been at Francis’?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks,” Alfred gaped. “I thought he only just found you!”
Arthur shook his head, green eyes still meeting Alfred’s.
“And he forgot to feed you?”
“I’m not sure that 'forgot' is the right term. He did not feed me, except for the first time I woke up. He gave me fruit, and then after that seemed to decide that along with wings comes a lack of need for basics like food.”
Alfred gaped at him. “He gave you water though?”
The angel nodded. “In a dish.”
Sinking into silence, neither spoke again till there was a knock at the door that told them their food had arrived.
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After they’d both finished eating- and between them they did manage to get through everything- Alfred sat back onto the bed, flicking through the channels with the TV remote. It was getting late and the amount of good shows on the four available channels was deteriorating.
Arthur got up from his seat and Alfred turned his head to watch him approach, eyes questioning. The angel gave him a look and then climbed onto the bed to sit between Alfred’s legs without explanation.
“Um,” Alfred said intelligently. “What?”
“I can’t see from over there,” Arthur said simply and Alfred didn’t argue. Cautiously, he moved his arms to encircle the angel’s waist, relaxing when the angel didn’t move away or hit him.
“Hey!” he let out an indignant yelp as the channel changed. He hadn’t noticed the remote being taken from his hand.
He could feel the angel’s grin even though he couldn’t see it. The television was now showing a part of a history documentary on some obscure topic.
“You’re joking,” Alfred moaned, “We’re not watching this.”
“We are, actually,” Arthur said contentedly, leaning back onto Alfred comfortably.
Groaning, Alfred dropped his head down into Arthur’s hair. “Are you sure you’re an angel and not a demon?” he complained.
Arthur went tense and Alfred internally kicked himself. “Sorry. Is that a really bad thing to say?”
“There’s a difference between an angel,” Arthur said softly, Alfred going quiet, “And just a man with wings.”
Not sure what to do, Alfred slipped his hand down to the remote and pulled it out of Arthur’s lax grip, changing the channel again. It had the desired effect; Arthur let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a huff, the bad mood dispersing.
The angel- despite what Arthur had said it was still how Alfred thought of him- moved out of Alfred’s reach, turning to sit at the other end of the bed.
“So what is the plan for sleeping,” Arthur asked, hands hooking delicately round his ankles as he crossed his legs.
“You can take the bed, I’ll have the floor,” Alfred replied.
The angel rolled his eyes. “How could I forget your chivalry? Can’t complain…” he tailed off. “Do you,” he paused, then continued hesitantly, “Have a spare change of clothes I could borrow?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course,” Alfred said, slipping off the bed. “They’ll probably all be a bit big for you,” he warned.
“Least of my problems, I think,” Arthur replied, catching the t-shirt Alfred threw at him while the American continued to rifle through his half-unpacked suit case. “Do you mind if I rip this?”
“Huh? Oh, right, the wings. Knock yourself out,” Alfred said easily. “I don’t have spare pyjama pants,” he realised a moment later, looking at Arthur.
“Trousers,” Arthur corrected under his breath. “Okay… Any suggestions? I can’t sleep in just this,” he held up the t-shirt.
Alfred was about to suggest that he could, but kept quiet. “I have new boxers?” he offered instead, producing a set of three still in the packet.
Looking hesitant, Arthur nodded anyway, walking past Alfred and taking the packet and going into the small bathroom.
“Are you going to get changed out here?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.
Alfred nodded. “It’s getting late, so yeah, think I will,” he replied, fishing the top and shorts that qualified as his pyjamas out of his bag.
Echoing the nod, Arthur offered him a faint smile before stepping back into the bathroom and shutting the door.
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He rolled over agitatedly, closing his eyes and starting to count to a hundred. He managed to get to twenty six before he moved again.
“Are you sleeping on nails?” Arthur’s voice murmured the reprimand across the room.
“Sorry,” Alfred said in response, though he didn't stop moving about and trying to get comfortable.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he replied, voice defiant. “It’s nothing.”
“’Nothing’ has been bothering you for a good hour, Alfred.”
“It’s cold,” Alfred said reluctantly. “And I think the hotel's haunted.”
There was a soft laugh. “You’re scared of ghosts?”
“I’m not terrified of them or anything,” Alfred protested, sitting up slightly and trying to see the angel through the darkness. There was a soft thump from the floor above and Alfred let out a muffled yelp despite himself.
“Of course not,” the angel’s voice sounded a touch amused and Alfred pouted, despite knowing he couldn’t be seen.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not,” Arthur denied unconvincingly. A second thump from the ceiling had Alfred on his feet and half way to the bed, a surprised Arthur sitting up and watching him with a mix of amusement and suspicion.
“What?” the angel asked cautiously, a pale, shady form in the backness. His wings had been wrapped up around him like a no doubt luxurious blanket- he’d given Alfred the cover in exchange for the bed- but now they were unfurling as the angel tensed. Alfred did not reply; just hovered nervously, eyes flicking to the ceiling as it hung invisibly over him.
The angel seemed to catch on and relaxed slightly. “Oh, fine,” he said with what Alfred fancied to be forced reluctance. “Make sure you bring your duvet with you or you’ll freeze.”
Alfred grinned, quickly moving to scoop up his blanket then slip down onto the bed as Arthur moved over. The angel took the cover from him, spreading it over himself while leaving enough for Alfred to stay warm beneath it.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling instantly more comfortable and less scared.
Arthur didn’t reply for a moment. “Don’t get used to it,” he said eventually.
Shifting around on the mattress, Alfred ended up on his side, one arm beneath the shared pillow and the other wrapped loosely around his stomach. He could feel Arthur’s wings against his back, warm and comfortable.
“Arthur?” he asked into the darkness a few minutes later, half-expecting the angel to be asleep.
“Yes?”
Alfred paused. He had a question he needed to ask and one he wanted answering, but it was undoubtedly one that wouldn’t be well received. Curiosity warred with conscience before his decision was made for him.
“Spit it out then.”
Taking a slightly deeper breath than he needed Alfred turned over, eyes on the still part of Arthur’s back he could see between his wings before they closed in preparation for his question. “How did Francis catch you?”
Silence met his words and dragged on long enough for Alfred to back track.
“You don’t have to say, I was just wondering,” he said, biting his lower lip.
The springs of the mattress let out a whine and Alfred opened his eyes to find Arthur’s face only a few inches from his own.
Blue eyes looked into green for a few moments before the latter closed as Arthur let out an almost non-existent sigh.
“Do you think I’m beautiful, Alfred?”
He thought that maybe he should have been at least a little startled by the question, but Alfred replied without hesitation.
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
An unhappy smile marred Arthur’s expression. “All angels are beautiful. Where would you say angels live, Alfred?”
“Heaven?” Alfred suggested. “In the clouds?”
“Right on both accounts, though it depends on your definitions of both. We call it Heaven, though I have never seen a God there, and among the clouds but not the ones that bring rain. It’ll sound strange, but where I came from is as insubstantial as I was before I ended up here.”
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