Brand New Dance (Florecita)

Aneglo leaned on the waist high wall surrounding the roof of his apartment building, staring off into the distance. He'd never had reason to fear heights Before. Before, any distance he fell was either too short to be seriously injured or high enough to give him time to open his wings. Now, without them, he wasn't sure whether to be nervous or not.

Then he decided, screw that, he'd always like heights.

It was strange, to have a part of him missing. It was the same to Angelo as if he'd lost his arms or his legs; his wings had always been there and it was a major adjustment to work without them. Which was why he'd asked Azalea to come that night. She understood better than anyone other than Lucelia how his body moved, and she would know better than his girlfriend how to restore it. He still walked with a wobble in his step and had a propensity to fall over if he moved too quickly, used to the weight on his back, even when his wings had been folded. He'd even taken to wearing a heavy backpack sometimes, to balance him in a way he was familiar with, but he wanted to be able to move his body normally again.

Angelo turned towards the sound of the door opening, careful not to whip towards it, as close as he was to the edge. He merely grinned at Azalea's teasing. "You'd do it in a heartbeat, Florecita, don't play coy. Besides, I've gotten better. I can take whole steps, all by myself." This last bit was said in a way-too-innocent voice that would have been better suited to a four year old, and the wide eyed look that accompanied it matched perfectly.

Moving slowly, keeping his balance in check, Angelo walked towards Azalea, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on each cheek, mostly because he could. "Thanks for coming, Florecita. It means a lot. Besides," he added with a grin. "Who else would dance with you if I didn't? No one else could match." Not that he'd be able to, either. Not at first. But he hoped that he'd improve with time.

"I always have," Angelo countered with a smirk, reaching up to fix the mussed strands quickly. "I'll do my best," he promised her, knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to live up to his big talk. Not anymore.

Angelo watched with a single raised eyebrow as Azalea shucked her long coat, giving her a once over, but without leering, like so many other men would have. "Well don't I feel underdressed?" he asked blandly, though a smile crept onto his features. "If I'd known this was going to be a formal occasion, I would have put on something better." As it was, he was in simple, black cotton pants and a white t-shirt, nothing special at all, though he didn't feel insignificant, not even next to Azalea.

"Let's," the former demangel replied with a matching smirk. "Waltz?" he asked, though he was already transitioning into the proper hold. He began the steps to a simple waltz, one he'd learned when he was young, but only a few steps in, he rose up on his toes and leaned forward.

It was too far, overcompensating for weight that was no longer there, and Angelo stumbled, letting go of Azalea's hand to catch himself on the hard concrete. He got up with a wobble, brushing off his hands and swearing fluently in both Spanish and Italian. He covered his embarrassment (he used to be able to do this, dammit!) with a quick smile. "Looks like my moves aren't going anywhere near my mouth tonight."

Angelo smiled at her teasing, but his heart wasn't really in it and he knew it. He felt... strange about taking off his shirt now. He'd never been self-conscious about his body before, but then he hadn't had jagged scars running down his back before. Maybe part of the problem was that it was stranger now to go without a shirt with no legitimate reason, but it was also that when it was off before, he'd always had his wings unfolded. With it on, he could almost pretend that they were still there, just hidden from the world. Almost. "Night's getting a bit cool," he lied. "I think you'll be going without a show tonight."

Shaking his head, Angelo scowled. "Don't baby me, Azalea. It's a simple move and we both know it. Just because I can't do it anymore doesn't disprove that." He rubbed a hand over his face, aware that he'd snapped at her. "I'm sorry, Florecita, you didn't deserve that. I'm just- It's not something either of us has been used to for a while, is it? Failure?"

Lips quirking up into a half smile, Angelo took up the stance again. "And as your friend, it's my job not to drag you down with me. Again."

Angelo let her rant on for a minute with a steadily growing smile on his face. When she was finished, he laughed out loud. "Never one to let me feel sorry for myself, are you? No, you wouldn't be," he said, answering his own question. Despite his frustration, he did feel a bit better, reminded of the things he had accomplished.

A teasing smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, Angelo shook his head in fake exasperation. "Is this what being human is like? I don't like it. Silly mortals, never doing anything right." Honestly, it did take adjusting, but being normal was a pretty welcome change for him.

Angelo rolled his eyes. "If I was sure I could catch you, I would totally throw you in the air for that. As it is, I'm not, so I'll take a raincheck and not make you whip out your vines because I'm being overconfident." They took a few more careful turns around the roof, the blonde boy wobbling slightly, but not falling again. "Want to up the ante a little?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure I could handle it."

"Well I'll just have to keep that in mind when I want to flame and have to use my wand like a normal human being," Angelo replied with a teasing grin. "I mean, how do you do it? I almost burned myself the other day because I forgot that I can't touch the flames anymore."

There were plenty of things for the former demangel to get used to now that his body was human, though most of them were little, like the lack of fire tolerance. He could still flirt his way through a situation, though he didn't have his compulsion to help anymore.

Angelo kept within her parameters, only speeding up a little, matching her step for step. "It's ok," he responded to her query, catching her again in a move that was almost as effortless as before. "It's not where I want to spend the rest of my life, but then, I really have no idea how I want to spend the rest of my life." He shrugged. "I didn't really think about before and I haven't had time to since."

Angelo raised his eyebrow at Azalea's cryptic comment, but the Head of Nightshade disdained to elaborate and he let it be. Their relationship was built on blunt truths, but not pushing past limits. If Azalea ever wanted to tell him, she would. "Well it's annoying, but I'll live with it."

The smoother movement of his body were not lost to Angelo, but he preferred to half-ignore them, rather than focus too hard and throw off his rhythm. He still wobbled slightly if he leaned too far foreword, but it was mostly even keeled and closer to his usual standard.

Rolling his eyes, Angelo guided Azalea through a wide turn, connected only by her right hand in his left, before pulling her close again. "Yes, Mother," he told her with a cheeky grin. "It's legitimate advice though," he admitted with a sigh. "It's something I've been meaning to do anyway, but we've been rather... caught up in getting reacquainted." He grinned wolfishly at his friend.

Though most people wouldn't have thought it, Angelo did know when to respect people's admissions of secrets. "That was really brave, Florecita," he told her secretly. "Even more so because I know you don't like opening up. I don't usually either, but... Lucelia is different and it is something I should do."

Angelo nodded seriously, though he could feel the amusement dancing in his eyes. "And so many different times of the day too! You know everything is quite different at night than in the daytime. And you know Lucelia; the artist's eye for a change in light. I have to be observed from every angle in every light. Such an attention to detail!"

Nodding, the blonde boy smiled softly. "I know. I don't know what we'd be without them." He twirled her gently. "A pair of prickly hedges, the two of us, and only they really know how to reach past our thorns. That's why the two of us would never work, even if Jake and Lucelia didn't both kill me for mentioning it; we're too alike, too much opposed to the outside world. We need them to soften us."

Without Lucelia, Angelo would probably still be a seething mass of hatred for the outside world, hidden deep under his layer of charm. He was still angry sometimes, but having something good in his life helped immensely; he always knew that no matter how bad things got, she would be there at the end of the day.

"Speaking of Jake," Angelo said, transitioning topics smoothly, "How are things with you and He-Man?"

"Oh no way, D' Monica," Azala countered, trying to wrap up the personal talk. "You and I would never work because I am far sexier than you could ever hope to be," she laughed, making a soft mock growl as he pulled her back to himself, pressing her flush against his lean body.

Angelo merely laughed. "You wish that were true," he told her, grinning. "But it's just in the genetics, Florecita." He mock growled back at her, enjoying their play. They performed a few more careful turns, and he only wobbled on one. The old habits he'd once had were coming back to him.

"Yes, Azalea, that is kind of a big deal," Angelo said dryly, shooting her A Look. "I don't follow Quidditch that closely either, but anything with 'cup' after it is usually important. Congratulations to him, for that and for the teaching posts." The confession of how busy they were made Angelo look at her with concern. "Are you getting enough sleep, Florecita? Don't wear yourself out. I'd rather not have to return the favor of medical attention."

"Learn well, young Padawan," Angelo told her solemnly, though he ruined it when he could stop a smile from stretching across his face. He was sure that she'd picked up on a lot more than she'd let on and also sure that Azalea would learn whatever was necessary to understand the basics of Jake's passion. He snorted silently, wondering if her blonde friend, the famous one, would give her a book on the subject.

"Liar," Angelo said affectionately, catching her hands flawlessly. As they swayed in time with inaudible music, he looked at her with amusement. "Remember that, however much you want to deny it, you're mortal. You do need to give yourself a break every once in a while."

Settling into the finishing position in time with his partner, Angelo held it for a moment before releasing one of Azalea's hands and raising the other to his lips. "Until next time, then Florecita. And of course we'll dazzle the world," he added with a grin. "We were made to dazzle." He let go of his hold on her hand.

Later that week, he drew a picture, not as well as Lucelia could have, but respectably enough and sent it to Azalea in the mail. In it, two circles of thorn brush sat side by side, one encircling a Quidditch broom, a good approximation of the one Jake rode for Moose Jaw, and the other a drawing pad and pencils. On the back, he scrawled, 'The prickly hedges and their blooming roses.'

He could be poetic if he wanted to.