A for Angel/Archangel

It had nothing to do with the name. It certainly didn't. Maybe in the wee hours of night, she really did get those dreams of silver feather brushing across her arms, the tips of his nail writing poems in her skin, but it was his eyes that always held her captive, the dull of brown that prisms in to gold under the rays of sun when he soars across the sky.

Sometimes, she flicks her fingers in the air, conjuring little bolts of lighting, the one that makes him gasp a bit, only to smirk a minute later and chase those silver streaks that she makes across the black abyss, the thunders follow like a much-awaited drumroll, and he smiles, with a roar in his heart and a thrill of excitement swimming in his eyes.

And he really does look like an angel with the flashes behind him, among the pearls and diamonds of the night's sky and so she bows her head in reverence and a speck of love blossoming in the corner of her heart.

In between all those smirks and sass talks, she fell, in to a sweet oblivion, that keeps her awake till the crack of the dawn.

Her name is Storm, and her heart was indeed in a blissful thunderstorm.

~.~.~

A/N : Word count 220

Pairing Storm and Angel . (Apocalypse)