Angel had been up for hours already, long before sunset.  The money wouldn't start until it was dark.  That was when the roaches came out; all the vermin like him, and those that sought his services, those lonely souls that wanted something else, just for a night.  The ones that paid best wouldn't be looking for him until well into the night.  The ones with tastes for things that even others like Angel weren't always willing to do.

His gaze flicked to the window.  At this rate though, none of it would happen.  He wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed.  He wouldn't do it, if he didn't have to, but only the most desperate of fools would go out in what was brewing overhead.  As if in answer, the broiling storm cloud flickered in the distance.  Some minutes later, Angel heard the muted rumble of thunder.  The sun hanging low in the sky lit the underside of the storm, casting ominous but beautiful shadows along the surface of the cloud.  A teasing precursor of a breeze stirred the faded sheets that currently passed for curtains in his tiny apartment, and Angel sighed.

He should shut the window.  He knew he should.  But... if he did, would Dallieh come?  Would he use the door, or would he assume the closed window was a retracted invitation?  Angel hoped not.  He hoped Dallieh would know better than to think it.  But he wasn't willing to take the chance.  Long black hair fell away from fingers that had absently been weaving deft plaits, and he stood from the bed.  He bent over his hamper and fished out a used towel, wrinkling his nose at the filling basket.  If he was going to be stuck home, maybe he would do something productive and haul his stuff down to the coin laundromat on the bottom floor.... before it got to the point that it would take two trips.  Another heavy sigh as he crossed back to the window and laid the towel on the floor, then pushed the table closer to his shelf of books and movies.

The wind gusted a little harder into the window, and Angel straightened up, bracing his forearms on the sill, and leaning out into the oncoming storm.  The air had a heady tang of ozone and static, and Angel inhaled deeply, his lips curving into a small smile.  Dying sparks of sunlight, reflecting from the windows of the building across the street, glinted off the bright green of his eyes and the first cold drops just before they struck his face.  The storm flickered again, and this time the chasing thunder was much louder, and closer on the heels of the flash.  A wayward gull fought against the pull of the wind, and Angel frowned.  He hoped Dallieh wasn't trying to fly in this.  There was still time before sunset.  Still frowning, he retreated inside.  Laundry.  He'd get his laundry together.

He didn't have time to do more than get out the worn canvas bag from the bottom of his closet before he felt him.  The growl of thunder muted the rush of air and flutter of his wings, but Angel knew he was there.  When he turned, he saw the big black raven perched on the edge of the table, and he couldn't help the grin on his face as he dropped the bag and crossed the few steps between them.  He raised his hand, running fingers over a soft, feathered head that pushed into his touch, and a quiet laugh escaped his lips as blue-green eyes closed.

"I was worried 'bout ya flyin' around in that..."  He gestured towards the window, where the wind was picking up speed.  Black wings rustled, and Dallieh tilted his head.  It drew out another laugh.

"What?  It's gettin' gross out there.  And I totally don't wanna find out ya splattered yourself all over a window or somethin'."  Now the raven squinted at him, feathers ruffling.  Angel rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning when he turned towards the window.  He rested his hands on the sill, watching the drops come down faster, until it was a steady downpour.  The wind blew them in, soaking his bare chest in short order, and Angel closed his eyes.  He remained that way only a moment or two, before he closed the window and turned around, leaning back against the pane of glass.  He absently brushed the water from his skin.

"I love weather like this, yanno?  The charge in the air an' the thunder... It's like... a little baptism for the world or something.  Heh... that sounds stupid.  I know it's not like it's raining around the world or anything."  He laughed softly at himself, and his fingers picked up the now-loosened braid of hair that he'd left woven into the lengthy mane.  He was babbling, and he knew it, but he couldn't make himself stop.  He looked away, staring at a nondescript spot on the wall.  "But... maybe it's just cleanin' up the one little area where it falls.  It can't be just rain, either.  It has to be a storm, with lightning.  Like this one..."  He hadn't realized that his lazy drawl had faded as he spoke.

He gave himself a mental shake and flopped onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head, but turning enough so that he could look out the window.  "Sun's gonna be down soon... I like the way it makes the rain glow like that, though...  Heh, I don't know what's gotten into me tonight... probably just the rain.  Makes people get all...sentimental or some shit like that..."

It was the movement that drew his attention.  Dallieh had been perched quietly on the edge of the table, but then he raised his wings.  Just a single stroke, and he'd cleared the room to instead settle on top of the fridge.  The way he tilted his head, and the body language, even bird body language, was so pointedly asking a specific question, Angel had to laugh.

"Damn ok, I can take a hint.  No, I ain't eaten yet."  More squinted eyes, and rustling wings.  Angel laughed again and rolled easily, gracefully to his feet, striding to the fridge.  His eyes sparkled as he reached up to caress black wings.  "How'dya do that anyway?  You ain't even talkin' and I know what you're tellin' me."

He bent, opening the fridge, and then straightened up with a bottle of water and an apple.  He held it up, raising a brow in inquiry.  "Better?"

Dallieh's head turned towards the window, just as the last glimmer of reflected sunlight vanished from the windows across the street.  He gave himself a shake, then hopped from the top of the fridge.  When he landed, he was a man, and he wore that slight smile that made Angel's heart pound, and his insides go watery.  

"It's a start."

The rain had yet to abate.  It came down in sheets, and battered at the glass of the window.  The wind howled like a tormented soul, while the thunder and lightning played tag in the sky.  The storm had seemingly stalled completely, right over the apartment building Angel called home.  There was a faint smell of char in the air, and a pan sat in the sink, full of soapy water, soaking.  The television was playing across the room, just loud enough to be heard over the storm, without drowning it out.  

Angel stretched carefully, his head braced against Dallieh's shoulder.  He reached up and ran the fingers of his left hand through nutmeg locks that mingled with his own, where Dallieh's head rested against the top of Angel's.  He could feel the slight shift as cool fingers found his, and drew them so carefully into sight.

"How's your hand?"

Swirling eyes flicked to the white bandages wrapped around his palm, and Angel wrinkled his nose.  He'd done quite a bit of damage when he'd scorched the pan.  It was a small miracle that he'd set nothing ablaze, but he had given himself a frightful burn on the side of his hand.  Still, the careful application of a cooling gel from a first aid kit Angel didn't remember owning had taken care of the worst of the pain.

"S'fine... doesn't even hurt."

"Good.  I told you I would cook...."  Dallieh looked down at him with the corner of his mouth quirked in a slight smile.

"Yeah but I ain't a baby.  I can do it myself."

"Apparently."

Angel's nose wrinkled again when Dallieh gestured towards the sink with one hand, then lightly touched the fingers of Angel's injured limb.  He could hear the amusement in his tone.  It drew a snort from him, but he merely settled more comfortably against a cool shoulder.  A smirk curved his lips.

"Yeah well... I ain't never said I was good at it."

They fell silent again, bathed in the soft glow of the screen.  Thunder roared overhead, and Angel's eyes closed.  He could stay like this forever, just frozen in this one little moment, with the storm, and the TV and the shoulder he leaned on.  If the world ended in that second, he'd have been perfectly content.  With the way the storm was shaking the building and rattling the windows, it seemed like it really might just end.  He smiled when he felt a hand gently brush over his dark hair.  So perfect.  Everything really was so perfect.

The lightning lit the sky to almost daylight, and the thunder crashed immediately on top of it.  There was a strong charge in the air, an eerie green glow, and then suddenly, the room was plunged into total darkness.  Angel jumped in place, sitting upright.  Then he cursed and flopped back against the wall with a thump.