Disclaimer: I don't own, I RENT
Summary: She looked like a broken flower, so small, crumpled, and fragile in the hospital bed. And yet, still having a sad beauty about her. AngelCollins. (mildly angsty) Short oneshot.
A/N: Yeah, so, I had an urge to write a fic, and Sofri gave me the prompt 'broken flower', and I instantly thought of Angel. So this is my first angst-centered fic… if anyone has any prompts for me, please leave a review or a PM and let me know! I love writing, and even a single word can get the inspiration flowing!
Looking at Angel, laid out in her hospital bed with a tube leading from her arm, one was reminded of a broken flower. She looked so fragile and somewhat wilted from her former self, and the angle of her knees and elbows was more pronounced than normal due to weight loss. In all, like a flower whose stem had been broken.
Collins stood over his sick, sleeping lover, gazing down at her with an expression of torment and love on his face. It had been one of the hardest, most heartrending times in his life to watch his beautiful Angel slowly fade into the sickly, fragile man lying in front of him.
Especially while she was asleep. She'd already been stripped of the clothes she loved to wear, instead having to wear a white hospital gown all the time, but when she was asleep, even the aura of strength and kindness that usually came from her was gone. It was these times when it was really driven home to Collins that his Angel was dying, and there was nothing he could do to help her.
He sat down carefully on the bed, kicking off his boots and lying down next to his love. Being very careful not to accidentally hit an important tube or something, he positioned himself so Angel's back was resting up against his chest, her head just below his chin.
Collins snaked an arm gently around her waist and hugged her close. Instinctively, Angel snuggled into the man's embrace, turning over and burying her face in his chest. The professor stroked her short-cut natural hair lovingly, and Angel gave a contented sigh. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him, their chocolate-brown depths surprisingly clear for someone who'd just woken up.
"Hi, honey," she said in a soft voice, giving him a kiss hello. "Where's Mimi-chica?" The dancer had been there when she fell asleep…
"She had to go to work for a while," Collins answered just as softly, his eyes drinking in her beautiful, if a bit gaunt, face. "How're you feeling, Angelcake?"
"I actually feel pretty good," she answered in a slightly more perky voice, feeling the familiar grin spread across her face at his pet name for her. She sat up slowly, Collins sitting up with her, supporting her with a gentle hand on her back.
The drag queen's stomach rumbled loudly, bringing a chuckle from both. "Shall we go get some food then, Mr. Collins?" Angel asked teasingly. She wasn't yet so sick that she had to stay in bed all day, after all! She'd only come to this place a few days ago.
Collins chuckled and helped her stand up, supporting and balancing her with an arm lightly around her waist. He glanced at the IV coming from her arm. "What about that thing?"
Angel glanced at it, then waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it won't kill me to have it out for a while. Besides, the bag's empty anyway." Sure enough, the plastic bag was completely devoid of liquid. Without further ado, Collins gently removed the needle from Angel's arm and left it dangling from the stand.
The two ambled off towards the hospital's cafeteria, Angel chattering about some dream she'd had and an earlier conversation with Mimi and Collins listening, both of them laughing and happy. For a moment, Collins was even able to forget that his Angel was sick.
She might be a broken flower, he thought as they walked, but she's nowhere near dead yet.
Thoughts? Comments? Prompts? Leave a review, PLEASE!!