Heaven-Sent.

"And when love is dead, I'm loving angels instead. And through it all, she offers me protection, a lot of love and affection..." The alarm clock on Mikey's nightstand goes off, blasting the well known ballad straight in his ear.

It takes a long while for him to wake up, it's as if he was in his absolutely deepest sleep, even though he had already been sleeping for eight hours. His eyelids are heavy, and he just can't open them up, and his mind and body feels foggy, and even his lungs are tired because it's hard to breathe, and he just wants to go back to sleep because he has to be sick. Reaching out, he hits the snooze button on the radio, and then he rolls over, snuggling deeper into the bed and pillows. Then, he hears it.

Now that the noise from the radio is shut off, he can hear the loud wailing of a fire detector, although it's coming from the floor underneath. Not wasting any time wondering why the hell his own fire detectors hadn't gone off, he forces his eyes to open, and they tear up, burning from the stinging smoke that is slowly filling up his apartment. He feels the same stinging sensation in his nose and grabs a t-shirt on the floor to hold across his face as he gets up.

He's not sure where the actual fire is, but the smoke is hot enough, and beads of sweat are already forming all over his body as he makes his way to the window where the fire escape is. He curses himself under his breath as he tries to open the window that he has never paid any closer attention to before. He has lived here for just over two months, and he was planning on looking after the window just in a few days, but of course that's too late. It's too late to install a working fire detector too.

His throat stings as he repeatedly yanks at the handle and lock of the window, and the heat is getting worse, as well as the amount of smoke in the room. Tears mingle with sweat on his face as he resorts to banging helplessly on the window and he sinks down on the floor. If only he had remembered to put on his glasses when he left his bed, he would have been able to see the heavy statuette that his mom had given him and placed on the window sill, but in the dark, smoky room he can barely make out his own hands.

Shaking and crying and coughing, he pushes himself forward, and starts crawling on all four towards the apartment door, just needing to find a way out even if that's not a very good one. Once he reaches the door, he realizes that the smoke is just flooding in through the crack beneath it, and the door handle burns his fingertips when he touches it. Sobs break out of his aching chest and throat, and he curls up into a little ball next to the door, still trying to breathe through the t-shirt, even though it's hardly doing a thing.

His head feels heavy and cloudy from the smoke, and his eyelids are as heavy as when he first woke up. Every breath that passes through his mouth or nose, down into his lungs, stings like a thousand knives stabbing him, and he just doesn't want to do it anymore, he doesn't want to breathe.

Just as he's giving up and passing out, there is someone there, there's someone in the apartment. He doesn't open his eyes, but he feels gentle hands touching his skin and lifting him up into a secure embrace, and his cheek rests against a naked, completely cool shoulder. One of his eyes slip open, but he only sees the black smoke everywhere, but then there's something. Something soft-looking, big and dazzling white.

"Stay conscious," a dark voice says, but Mikey's already gone.

*

The next thing he knows, is that he's breathing. He has never felt it like that before, like it's such an overwhelming feeling that he just can't understand or examine. It's too many things at once. The air in his mouth and nose, in his throat and lungs, it's cold and fresh, cleaning out all the dirt and grime and soot that has gathered in his body, but unlike the usual cold air, it doesn't sting. It's warm and soothing, as if it's putting tiny little band-aids on the sores from the smoke, and it's giving him a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest and head, making him feel sleepy again.

He feels something tickling the skin on his back, but he doesn't care about what it is. The skin on his arms and chest feels warm, as does the fabric that covers his legs, but his face feels strangely cool. His lips are burning, though, that's something he knows for sure, and it's through his burning lips that the refreshing air is passing into his body. From another pair of lips to his own.

He gasps slightly as the burning feeling goes away suddenly, leaving his lips uncovered. The air he breathes now doesn't feel as special as the previous one, but it's fresh and nice anyway, and he inhales deeply a few times before opening his eyes. When he does, he meets a pair of bright eyes, almost golden brown in color, but with shades of hazel and green too, and he fights back a minor fit of freaking out. He could be looking into a mirror, the eyes look so much like his own.

The eyes are sincere and kind, worried looking, but still with a hint of a smile in them. The smile soon spreads to the rest of the face, still hovering just above Mikey's, and he feels a soft hand brush his hair back, out of his face. He still feels sleepy, and his eyes are sore and swollen, but he keeps watching the familiar looking stranger until he literally can't anymore.

"Sleep," the man says, and Mikey obeys, just barely catching a glimpse of something big and white behind the man's head and back.

*

The next time he wakes up, he feels all warm and fuzzy. He feels so relaxed he doesn't even remember what happened. Thinking he's still in his bedroom, sleeping in, he can't recall the fire, the smoke and pain or the strange man who had most definitely saved him from smoke poisoning.

But the warm sun shining on his mostly bare body, and the soft breeze brushing over his sensitive skin, is enough to make him look up and wonder where he is. His eyes open to see the clear blue sky, and his back is itchy from lying on the grass. There's a small leaf down by the waistline of the pyjama bottoms he's still wearing, and it's tickling his skin, but when he tries to move his hand to brush it off, he can't.

His body is heavy and tired, not ready to move an inch, and he could just as well have been strapped down. All of his limbs feel like lead, and his head, his mind, feels like it has been out of use for months or years, he can barely even think. Feeling empty, he just lies there, gazing into the sky as the sun travels west and small fluffy clouds just float by in whatever direction the wind wants to take them.

As the hours pass, his body slowly starts feeling lighter and gravity allows him to move, even if it's just an inch at a time. He removes the tickling leaf down by his waist, and he runs a hand through his hair that he washed just the night before, but it still feels dirty. He turns his head to the left, trying to make out where he is, but without his glasses it's mostly just a green blur.

When he turns his head to the right, though, he can at least make out something that looks like the man he saw before. It's all blurry, of course, and he can mostly just see contours and the way the colors stand out against one another. The man's skin is almost white, and his hair is dark, black, and it contrasts beautifully with whatever the white thing behind him is. Around him, it's all green and blue, and Mikey realizes that they must be near a lake or something.

The man seems to be looking in his direction, but as Mikey's vision is too blurry, he can't be sure of where the kind eyes are directed. It really feels as if the eyes are on him, though, staring him up and down and examining his weak body from afar. Mikey wishes he could do the same, wishes he had his glasses so he wouldn't feel so blind and handicapped.

After a little over twenty minutes of Mikey looking back at the man who was sitting still as he watched Mikey, the man gets up and walks away in the opposite direction of Mikey, towards the lake. He doesn't speak or look closer at Mikey before he goes, he just gets up, and Mikey stays, looking after him. He can't help but to be curious about the man, why he had helped him and how he had done it. Why he had taken him out to the middle of nowhere instead of to a hospital or to his family. It occurred to him that perhaps he should be scared of the man who had done nothing to introduce himself, but there was something calm and soothing over him, and Mikey simply couldn't fear him.

He can no longer see the man, as there is a downhill slope to the water, and it isn't possible to see the shore from where he is lying on the grass. He hears soft splashing of water, though, and he suddenly feels thirsty, even if he knows that the lake water is most likely not drinkable. He decides to finally pull his heavy body up off of the ground, though, and soon, he's following the man's footsteps down to the water.

He stops once he feels the soft, light sand beneath his bare feet, and sits down. He looks out over the blue water, watching how the wind caresses it and creates creases all over it, and makes it look alive. The man is standing in the water, and even if the sun is shining and it's rather warm, it looks really cold as the man has water up to his waist.

Mikey believes it to be a good idea to stop calling him a man, though, because now he can make out what the white thing that seems to be following the man, is. His eyes are probably in the risk zone of popping out, he's staring so intensely at the man, and the wings that are sprouting out of his upper back. Mikey bites back a string of profanities that he would normally use to express his emotions, that in this case were shock and a feeling that he might have gone insane. He must be either dead or have brain damages from the smoke, or his bad eyesight has gone to a whole new level.

The man is blurry, everything is blurry, but he can definitely make out the wings. They're white and blinding like pearls, reflecting the bright sunlight, and they are huge. They reach well over the man's head, and the tips are disappearing under the water, and Mikey estimates that there are at least a feet or two of feathers hidden under the surface. The wings are the most beautiful things Mikey has ever laid eyes on, and the rest of the man isn't making the image less magical. His skin is light and soft-looking, spread over well-defined muscles, and the way the dark locks of hair fall in his face is wonderful.

Mikey stands up from his seat in the sand, and not even thinking about it, he steps out into the water. It's chilly on his warm skin that's been warmed up by the burning sun all day, but he ignores the need to flinch and wince, and keeps going, not caring that he's getting the pyjama bottoms wet. The man turns his head slightly look at him, but he doesn't say anything, not even as Mikey reaches him and lifts a hand to run his fingers over the closest wing. "Fuck..." he breathes out, looking up in wonder at the glistening feathers. "What are you?"

He feels the feathers moving under his fingertips, and he takes a quick step back as the man suddenly turns to face him, and the wings are out of his reach. "You shouldn't be in the water. As soon as the sun goes down, you'll be freezing and it will slow the healing process," the man speaks with the same dark, raspy voice as before, and ignores Mikey's question completely.

"Healing process?" he questions. He remembers the fire, but he doesn't understand how he can feel so fine after it. He can't be healing on his own after inhaling so much smoke, and this man can hardly have done anything out here in the middle of nowhere either. "Why am I here? I should be in the hospital." He looks up and around, trying to see if there is any form of civilization nearby, but everything's just a blur. "Why did you save me? Who are you?"

The man smiles. "You don't need to be in the hospital, you're fine, but you're still healing." He steps around Mikey to walk back to the shore, but miscalculates it so the wings almost knock Mikey over when he passes. Mikey stands back for a few seconds, just watching before walking to catch up. Before he has reached the sand where the man now is, he stops again, eyes running all over the man's body. He's wearing nothing but black jeans that are as tight as a second layer of skin, and although they leave nothing to imagination, Mikey's gaze is moving away again.

The tips of the wings reach down to the man's calves, and they seem even bigger and more majestic now that he can see all of them. When the man suddenly lifts them into the air and spreads them out, shaking them free from clinging water droplets, Mikey seriously thinks he's losing it, though. They must be twice, maybe even three or four times, the size of the man's body. "That's not... it's impossible," he mutters under his breath, finally walking closer and out of the water as the wings are lowered and tucked in neatly against the man's back again.

"I'm Gerard," he looks at Mikey, smiling in response to his flabbergasted expression. "I'm your guardian angel."

*

A few hours later, the sun is on its way down, and as it disappears behind the treetops, Mikey is indeed freezing in his still soaking wet pyjama bottoms. He's got no other clothes to wear, and Gerard, the angel hasn't got any to give him either. What's annoying Mikey, though, is that Gerard isn't cold. They were both in the water and both of their pants got soaked, and neither of them are wearing a t-shirt or anything, but as Mikey is shivering and looking miserable with heavily shattering teeth, Gerard is walking around as if it's nothing.

"I told you you shouldn't have gone in the water," Gerard says matter-of-factly as he dumps a bunch of twigs and larger pieces of firewood in front of Mikey, who's sitting in the sand again. The tip of one of the wings gets Mikey right in the face and he groans, slapping it away and trying to ignore Gerard's know-it-all face. If he is Mikey's fucking guardian angel, shouldn't he be nice?

"You didn't fucking say anything until after I was in the water!" Mikey exclaims, teeth still shattering wildly, but when Gerard simply rolls his eyes, Mikey adds, "asshole." He says it quietly, but loudly enough for Gerard to hear it, but of course, the angel doesn't reply. Mikey watches him intently as he walks around the pile of firewood and crouches down, spreading his wings out not to get them dirty, or possibly to keep his balance better, Mikey thinks. Then, the twigs are burning, and Mikey has no idea how it happened. It seems that Gerard has merely snapped his fingers, and then there are several yellow flames licking the dry wood.

As the fire is slowly growing and starting to warm up Mikey's frozen body, Gerard disappears into the trees without a word. This too, annoys Mikey. He has no idea where he is or how they got here, and now Gerard just disappears. If he really is a guardian angel, he obviously needs to come back to keep Mikey safe, but he can't help but think that the guy just left him. Maybe the wings are even fake? Mikey's eyesight is bad enough to make him believe anything that's just remotely well done.

"Where's your halo?" Mikey asks when Gerard finally returns with a bag of Chinese takeout that Mikey doesn't even bother asking about. He's too hungry to care about anything else than eating the food, and waiting for Gerard's reply that he was very curious for. He had spent most of the hour that Gerard was gone, thinking about it, and what the possible answers could be.

Gerard actually laughs softly at the question and smiles towards Mikey. "It kind of tends to get in the way, so I don't wear it much." Mikey nods understanding and smiles as he digs into the food that seems to be for him, only. He could probably eat an entire family dinner all by himself, he's so hungry after not having eaten since the previous night, but the food Gerard got him turns out to be enough.

"I thought you had abandoned me. Before, when you left," Mikey says quietly as he puts away the emptied carton. Gerard looks up from where he is putting new pieces of wood in the fire, and his expression is rather perturbed looking. "You just took off, and well, I wouldn't exactly blame you if you had just left." Mikey hugs his legs, staring into the fire.

"I actually can't leave. It's part of the job, y'know?" Gerard says, giving Mikey a concerned glance. "Not that I would want to, anyway." He smiles, and Mikey shows him one in return, glad that he's not a total nuisance to Gerard. They sit in silence for a while, not doing much except for staring into the flames, and occasionally at each other. Mikey is starting to feel really cold again, even though the fire is getting warmer, and he is getting warmer, too, from having eaten.

"You cold?" Gerard asks softly as Mikey starts shivering violently, teeth shattering and everything. Mikey gives him a quick nod, but keeps staring at the warm fire, as if that's going to warm him up. "Come here," Gerard says, holding out an arm towards Mikey. "You're gonna freeze to death." Mikey needs no more convincing, and is soon shuffling over to Gerard and in to his unnaturally warm embrace. Gerard's skin feels as if it's burning against Mikey's, just like the burning he felt on his lips earlier that day. Gerard's arms wrap around his shoulders, and he tries not to think about being pressed so close to a really good-looking, half-naked guy who, on top of it all, has wings.

"How can you be so freakin' hot?" he mutters, lips almost-too-close to Gerard skin. "You're like an oven, or a fire, or something." Gerard's only reply is to gently rub Mikey's arm, warming it up even more.

"When can I go home?" Mikey asks after several long minutes of comfortable silence. He finds himself involuntarily pressing closer and closer to Gerard's warm skin as the air around them is getting colder, and only the parts that really touch Gerard, are getting warm. "What happened to my apartment? In the fire?" He's shivering again, and before Gerard replies, Mikey feels one of the wings slightly wrap around him, effectively shielding him from the cold air. It feels insanely surreal. He's cuddling, half-naked, with an angel who even has his wings wrapped around him to keep him warm.

"You'll be home in the morning. I had planned to have you home before nightfall, but then you slowed down the healing process by getting yourself cold, and I simply can't take you home just yet." There's a short pause before Gerard continues. "Your apartment wasn't damaged by the fire, it just needed to be cleaned out of smoke and soot. It will be ready in the morning." Mikey's head is pressed against Gerard's shoulder and he can feel the point of Gerard's chin digging into he top of his head. "Everybody thinks you're on vacation, though, so don't let anybody know that you were actually there."

"Okay," he yawns, allowing himself to feel tired now that he feels warm and safe, and his thoughts wander on forward quickly, "Why did you kiss me? Like, earlier, the first time I woke up?" He sighs softly, letting his eyes fall shut and really relaxes into the heat of Gerard.

"I didn't... kiss you," Gerard says hesitantly. "I... Your lungs were really damaged by the smoke, and to heal them..." He pauses,rubbing Mikey's arms again. "It's like CPR, y'know?" Mikey doesn't reply, but nods against Gerard's chest so that the angel can definitely feel it.

"'M tired," Mikey breathes against Gerard's warm skin, and if he hadn't been so tired, he would notice the shudders running through the angel's body. All he knows is the comfortable heat, the safety of Gerard's arms, and the enchanting wings that almost form some kind of cocoon around them.

Then, there is Gerard's dark voice, whispering, "go to sleep," and that's the last thing he knows.

*

When he wakes up, the warm and fuzzy feeling of hot, naked skin and soft, protective wings, is gone, and he's alone in his bed, as if the previous day had never even happened. There's just a faint smell of smoke in the room, and there is no way to tell Gerard has ever been there, or that Mikey had been away, by that lake, the day before.

He's wearing the same pyjama bottoms, and as he gets up, he's thinking it was all just a really weird, but realistic dream. It had all felt so real, every touch and embrace, and the fire... It had to have been real, it was too much to be just a dream. But then again... an angel? A guardian angel, only for him? An angel who didn't have a halo because he found it uncomfortable? It's ridiculous.

He groans and walks in to the bathroom, going straight for the shower without even waiting for the water to heat up. He stands under the harsh spray of water for what seems like forever, and when he steps out again, his skin is wrinkly, and his head feels kind of heavy. He goes back to his bedroom, intending to just return to bed, but as he gets closer, he notices something on his pillow.

It's just as white and shining as he remembers it, giving off that pearly glow like it had when it was covered in tiny water droplets. He reaches out and picks it up, feeling it's unearthly softness underneath his fingertips. He holds it up against the lips that had burned from the touch of Gerard's, not even a day ago, and he smiles.

"You're real."