Everyone, meet Charles. -gestures to cage with a bunny- He is the newest plot bunny. -laughs weakly- I am never gonna get anything done... -sobs-

Summary: Alfred and Matthew were childhood friends. After an accident, Alfred finds himself dead and guardian angel to his former best friend. He takes his job pretty seriously. Matthew has no idea. Yet...

EDIT: Miguel, Matthew's roommate, is Cuba. :D

Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matthew (...I think its all I can right... OTL)

Warnings: language, fluff, OOCness, slash

Disclaimer: I don't own.

The little boy knelt there, play clothes soiled with mud, fists angrily rubbing at his eyes in a poor attempt to stop the seemingly endless flood of tears. He didn't whimper or sniffle, trying his best to be silent and stop crying because boys are supposed to be brave and crying is for babies.

But when his heart is hurting and his arms feel cold and empty, the tears renew, leaving sticky tracks down his pudgy cheeks.

"Hi. What's wrong with you?" A voice chirped from next to him and Matthew glanced over to see another boy about his age plop down next to him and study him with curious blue eyes.

"These boys…." he hiccupped softly, "pushed me and stole my bear…"

The shock and indignation that spread across the other little's boys face would've been comical if Matthew hadn't been so upset. "What! Those villains!" A self-righteous and determined glint filled his eyes and he shot to his feet, tugging Matthew up with him as well. "I'll go beat them up for you."

"Y-you don't have to do that." Matthew whispered, eyes wide with awe.

"This injustice will not go unpunished!" the boy shouted. Matthew recognized the line from one of the cartoons he watched every Saturday morning. "C'mon!"

And Matthew allowed the strange, energetic blond to tug him over to the playground, all the while demanding to know what the bullies looked like.

Then, after hesitantly pointing them out, he watched in surprise and admiration as the other boy proceeded to whole-heartedly tackle the ringleader and wrestle away the plush white bear the older boy had held captive. The other bullies just stood in shock, watching as the kid triumphantly snatched away the bear and ran back to Matthew, tugging his hand and saying urgently, "We'd better hide now."

And, so the two did. Running as fast as their short legs could carry them before the bullies gathered their senses and took off after them. They ran until they reached a miniature thicket of trees, rounding behind the one with the widest trunk before collapsing to the ground, panting heavily.

"Here ya go." The blond grinned, holding out the bear.

Smiling happily, Matthew took the bear and buried his face into its worn fur, squeezing it closer to him. "Thanks." He murmured, violet eyes peaking over the curve of its head.

"Just doin' my job." The blond said, leaning back against the tree.

"You're very brave."

"That's 'cause I'm a hero." He replied with a wide grin and Matthew, with a shy smile, moved his stuffed bear forward until its muzzle was pressed against the other's tanned cheek.

"Kumataro says thank you too."

A faint blush rose against the other's face and he looked away, rubbing the toe of his sneakers into the hard ground embarrassedly. "Its what heroes do."

The two sat in companionable silence for a while before Matthew said, "My name's Matthew."

"And I'm Jones! Alfred F. Jones." Alfred announced, both thumbs pointing at his chest. With bright eyes he leaned over and grabbed Matthew's hand again, "Wanna be my sidekick?"

Matthew frowned a little bit, scrunching up his nose. "Sidekick?"

"Yeah! You can help me save the day! It'll be so cool!"

Matthew thought it over, biting his lip slightly. Sidekicks were cool, but… "I don't know…that's kind of dangerous."

"Nah, I'll save you." Alfred said simply, brushing away the matter.

"Can we be friends too?" Matthew asked, hesitantly.

Alfred looked almost astonished. "Of course stupid!" He stood up, brushing away blades of grass from his shorts. "Lets go play on the swings and pretend we're flying." He held out a hand to Matthew and the smaller boy took it gratefully, bear tucked under his shoulder.

"Okay."

The two boys walked off, almost calmly before Alfred shouted, "Race you!"

And Matthew, not wanting to ignore a challenge, sped off right behind him.

(The two tied, tumbling into a swing at the same time, laughing madly.)

"Mattie. Mattie. Mattie." Alfred whispered, leaning down next to the slumbering boy's ear. "Its time to wake up."

"Nnngh." Was the only response he received as the teenager rolled over, burying himself deeper into the cocoon of blankets.

Alfred sighed and smiled fondly.

"You give me no choice, dude. No more Mr. Nice Guy. " And, with a firm grip on the blankets, Alfred neatly yanked the entire mound (blankets and Matt) off the bed and onto the floor.

"Merde." The teenager swore as he landed with a thump on the carpet. "What the fuck was that?" He grumbled, untangling himself from the sheets.

"That's what happens when you don't want to go the easy way." Alfred said helpfully, sitting cross legged on the now empty mattress. "Oh and you're going to be late."

"I'm going to be late!" Matthew gasped, glancing over at his digital clock. Rushing to his closet, the blond began to pull out some clean clothes and struggled to tug them on.

"No, that holes for your arm not your head." Alfred said, watching as the boy yanked on his shirt. "Careful, you'll fa—I told you to be careful." He shook his head as Matthew landed on his ass trying to pull on a shoe and sock at the same time. "Sometimes I wish you could hear me."

"For his sake, I hope he never has to." A voice commented dryly. Alfred whipped his head around to see Arthur giving him an unamused look. "You know, Alfred. Being a guardian angel means making sure he doesn't get hurt. I am impressed you're so dedicated, but you are taking it to an extreme."

"I am not."

"You set out his breakfast every morning."

"He's a growing boy!" Alfred said defensively. "And if I don't, he'll skip breakfast and be hungry until lunch!"

"You butter his toast for him."

"He prefers eating it after the butter has soaked in."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow. "Right."

Alfred groaned, falling back on the mattress. "Okay, maybe I'm a little overbearing. But spare me your lecture, please."

"You stick to him like glue. Nothing is even going to happen to him for another five years and even then he's going to sprain his wrist playing hockey." Arthur responded, not really scolding. "I suppose I'll let it slide. I know he was your childhood friend, but try to be professional. You know the consequences of getting attached to your charge."

"Yeah, yeah." Alfred grumbled, crossing his arms, unwilling to acknowledge that Arthur, the stuffy old man, only meant well by his warning.

"Oh don't sulk." Arthur snapped, hauling the taller blond up and, with a unnecessary amount of sparkle, transported them away.

Miguel meandered out of his room, blinking away sleep and idly scratching his bare stomach.

"Thanks for making breakfast!" Matthew called out, piece of toast in hand and book bag in the other. "You're the best."

"You're welcome?" Miguel offered, raising a dark eyebrow as his roommate flashed him a brilliant smile before rushing out of the apartment. He blinked in confusion.

Was he cooking in his sleep? Again?

"Oh good, you've finally woken." An accented voice commented and Alfred groaned, eyes fluttering open and squinting in the bright light. "I was starting to think you never would."

The blond slowly sat up, body protesting the entire movement. Looking around, Alfred found his gaze drawn to a sandy-haired man, dressed in white, looking at him with impatient green eyes.

"Um, dude?" Alfred began, "Why're you in a dress?"

The man sputtered and flushed red. "I-its not a dress! It's a robe, damn it."

"Sure." Alfred shrugged, "If that makes you feel better."

The man looked like he wanted to punch the teen but thought better of it, reluctantly. With a deep, calming breath, the man said, "I am Arthur. I was your guardian angel."

"…"

"And you're dead now."

"…"

"I'm here to lead you to the afterlife."

"…"

Arthur, a little unnerved by the blank stare his former charge was giving him, snapped, "What's with that face?"

"…my guardian angel liked to cross dress?"

"it's a robe! Tunic if you'd prefer!" Arthur grumbled, glaring at the teen. "And show some respect, git. I made sure you didn't get yourself killed when you stuck your fingers in electrical outlets and tried to eat paste."

"That was one time!"

"How about when you tried to jump off the roof in a stupid attempt to test those homemade wings?"

"I was young!"

"You were thirteen."

Alfred grumbled, carding his hands through his hair. "…So I'm dead?"

"My, you do catch on quick." Arthur said snidely.

"Hey, shouldn't you be nicer to me or something?"

"Perhaps." Arthur said dismissively, turning around. "Come along. No point in lazing the day away."

"What else am I gonna do?" Alfred muttered under his breath, following the angel without any more protest.

"The ones in charge upstairs have decided that you are qualified to be a guardian—strange because you couldn't even keep that goldfish alive—and you've already been assigned. You just need some training and you'll be ready."

"…wait, you're putting me in charge of someone's life?"

Arthur turned suddenly and stared at the newly dead young man. Alfred looked slightly green and terrified of the idea. Softening, Arthur smiled encouragingly at the teen. "Well, you do like playing hero. But if its that bad, you can always decline. However, I believe, especially once you know who it is, you'll warm to the idea."

Alfred looked uncertain, but continued to follow Arthur through the endless white hallway.

"The lad's former guardian was resurrected this morning." Arthur said briskly. "There isn't exactly much to do in the afterlife—watch loved ones, sleep, bid for resurrection, or become a guardian. You, in your mortal life, liked to keep busy. Being a guardian isn't so bad, all you have to do is make sure nothing—aside from what is already written—happens to your charge. If he's about to be hit by a car and he isn't supposed to be, then you save him. That's really it. You just watch over them, unknown to them of course. And when they die, you lead them to the afterlife. Its all quite simple, really. Questions?"

"Who's my charge?" Alfred brought up quickly.

"Matthew Williams, age fifteen."

"…who?"

Arthur stopped, again, and stared at him in disbelief. "Matthew Williams? You played together when you were children."

Alfred looked at him blankly.

"Blond hair? Violet eyes? Carried a bear?"

Suddenly recognition flickered in Alfred's eyes. Images of a small boy with wavy hair clutching his hand and smiling timidly rose to the forefront of his mind. "Oh! Mattie, you mean."

"Yes. Mattie." Arthur rolled his eyes and began walking anew, this time in a different direction. Alfred stared in shock, wondering where another hallway had sprouted from but decided not to question it.

"Let me guess, you've been stalking your charge again." Gilbert snickered, crimson eyes gleaming mockingly as Alfred sulked behind Arthur.

"Its not stalking." Alfred snapped. "Just doing my job."

"You butter his toast."

"Does everyone know that?" Alfred asked heatedly, blue eyes sparking in annoyance. "You're all just jealous that I'm the best guardian angel anyone could ask for!"

"Sure." Gilbert and Arthur replied in unison dryly.

"Look, Mattie was, like, my best friend when we were younger. I never found anyone who could come close to him after he moved away." Alfred said honestly, slipping onto a sofa (yes, made of clouds). "I'm just glad I can be close to him again."

Gilbert smiled wickedly and Alfred, for perhaps the thousandth time wondered how he managed not to go to the other place. "Or maybe you just want to spy on him when he's showering."

"You're the pervert here, not me!"

"He is quite a cutie~"

"Shut up shut up shut up!" Alfred stomped his foot, looking for all the world like a petulant child.

"Standing under the shower, water dripping down his chest—"

A dark flush spread across Alfred's face and he snarled something incomprehensible but most likely vulgar.

Gilbert laughed and Arthur sighed, wondering how he got stuck with those two dunces.

Good? Bad? Worth continuing? Its awful and reading more would only result in aneurisms?