Disclaimer: I own some family members, but that would be it. Hope you enjoy!

—viennacantabile

fell the angels

three : dusk and summer

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We looked into the darkness of futurity as a child gazes after a rocket up in the cloudy sky, full of wondering expectation of the rattle, the discharge, and the brilliant shower of sparks and light.

—Elizabeth Gaskell, Cranford

.

"Vel! Have ya seen my shoes?"

Velma, putting the finishing touches on her makeup over by the mirror after a full hour of primping, shifts to glance at the closet where her lingerie-clad best friend is rummaging through the tumble of brightly colored heels on the floor. "Which ones, Graz?"

The redhead turns around, face flushed. "You know, the ones I'm wearin' to the dance tonight. They match my dress."

Velma blinks. "Which dress're ya wearin' again?"

Graziella smirks at her, heart-shaped face framed by the enormous curlers in her hair. "The orange. You know the one. Real tight an' slinky; has a slit up to here." She giggles knowingly and indicates a spot midway up her right thigh. "Just so I can dance, a-course, but Riff'll go nuts."

Velma smiles. "Oh, yeah. You put 'em in a box on top-a the shelf last week, remember? So you could find 'em."

Graziella considers this, then gets on her tiptoes to reach onto the closet shelf and bring down a cardboard box. Opening it, she plucks out a violently orange heel. "Huh," she says, experimentally putting it on her foot with a smirk. "Well, whaddaya know. Guess it's good I keep ya around, after all."

Dimpling, Velma turns back to the mirror and carefully fluffs her hair. It certainly isn't the first dance she's gone to, but all the same, Velma is just as excited as if it were. Whirling around a dance floor with your friends and the boy you're crazy about is a fix that never gets old, and tonight, she plans to enjoy herself very, very much.

"What're ya wearin', anyway?" asks Graziella. The shoes are now perched on top of her bed while she unrolls her dance tights over her legs. "The yellow?"

Velma shakes her head, adjusting her corselette a bit. "No, the pale blue one with all the ruffles."

Graziella stops and glances slyly at her. "Ice really likes that one, don't he?"

Velma giggles. Ice likes just about anything on—or off—her, but he's definitely partial to her in blue. "Maybe."

"He comin' over later?" the redhead asks, turning back to her tights.

"Last time I checked," Velma confirms, smiling at herself in the mirror. "Riff?"

Graziella finishes pulling her tights up and over her body and stretches, a lazy smirk on her face. "He'd better, if he wants to get a chance at fu—"

"Hi, girls!" pipes up Minnie, dancing in from the bathroom outfitted in a ballerina-like muted orange dress and pearls. "This is my dress," she adds, swishing her full skirt with enthusiasm.

"Don't you look just precious," Graziella coos. "Aww, Minnie, I can't believe it's your first real dance with Baby John already!"

"Oh, thank you, Graziella," beams Minnie. "Me, neither!"

Velma smiles. "You do look real pretty, Minnie."

"But are you sure it's not too—well, provocative?" Minnie asks, pivoting anxiously in front of the full-length mirror fixed onto the back of the bedroom door. She lowers her voice and fearfully gestures to the ribbon ties topping her slender, almost-bare shoulders. "I'm wearing a strapless bra!"

Velma hides her amusement. "Minnie," she says with a very serious face, "I don't think anyone'd ever think you were bein' provocative."

"Anythin' but," laughs Graziella as she plops down at her vanity and begins sorting through the mess of makeup there. "I mean, ya still got all your crinolines on, right? I think it works out."

Minnie blushes. "Oh—well, yes, there is that. But—" She pauses, clearly struck by a new worry. "Johnny won't think they're childish, will he?"

"Trust me," Velma reassures her with complete honesty. "Baby John won't be thinkin' anythin' like that when he sees ya, Minnie." She smiles slightly. "Anyway, he'll just be lookin' at your pretty face. Right, Graz?"

The redhead jerks up from the vanity mirror, where she's been outlining her lips with bright red lipstick. "What? Oh, yeah, sure—Minnie, ya look like a real doll, y'know." Returning to the mirror, she purses her lips critically. "Vel, d'ya think it's too much?"

Velma rolls her eyes. "Well, if ya want everyone to know Riff's your guy after ya kiss him, then no, it ain't."

Graziella beams. "Perfect!" Jumping up, she turns to the youngest girl. "Now, Minnie, just sit down in front-a the mirror, an' we'll do somethin' with your face."

A self-conscious Minnie touches her cheek. "But not too much, right?"

"A-course not!" Graziella laughs. "Don'tcha trust me, Minnie?"

"Well, of course I do," Minnie nods helplessly. She shoots Velma a pleading look. "I'm just not too sure that, well…"

Velma's lips twitch. "Say, Graz," she suggests, "it's already almost seven. Maybe ya oughta get started on brushin' out your hair."

Graziella's eyes widen as her hands fly to her head. "Oh, shi—I mean, darn!" she hastily corrects herself after a panicked glance at Minnie. "How'd it get so late?"

Minnie beams. "Oh, time flies when you're having fun, Graziella."

"Sure does," Graziella agrees fervently, running toward the bathroom. "Vel, can ya take care-a Minnie?" she calls over her shoulder, already reaching for a roller.

Velma smiles at Minnie. "Sure, Graz." She steers the younger girl over to the vanity, where Minnie sits obligingly. "You've got real nice skin already, so I'm thinkin' maybe just some lipstick. A little eyeshadow wouldn't hurt," Velma adds. "That okay, Minnie?"

"I suppose so," agrees a trusting Minnie. "As long as you think Daddy wouldn't mind."

Velma winces. Minnie Goddard's father is a police officer who doesn't approve at all of his daughter's choice in male friends, and she has a hard time believing that a father who prefers his little girl in outdated crinolines and a neckline up to her throat will be all right with even a hint of color on her face. But, supposes Velma, examining Minnie's bare face, it is a dance, after all, and what's the point of being young if you don't take any chances? Besides, she thinks, picking up a tube of rose-colored lipstick, Minnie and Baby John are the last teenagers she knows who would get up to any trouble. And a little bit of makeup isn't going to change that.

"You'll look even prettier," Velma agrees vaguely instead, quickly swiping the lipstick over Minnie's lips with a practiced hand. "Press your lips together and close your eyes," she instructs, picking up an eyeshadow palette as the younger girl obeys. "Subtle," Velma murmurs to herself, scanning the colors, "subtle—oh, this one," she decides. As she takes a brush and begins applying the pale, moon-colored powder, Minnie fidgets.

"Velma," she says thoughtfully, "where did you learn to do all of this?"

Velma carefully inspects Minnie's eyelids. "What, makeup?"

"Yes," says Minnie, "and doing your hair, and picking out clothes, and—all of it, really." She can't see the smile that passes over Velma's face.

"Well, I have two older sisters," the blonde points out. "One of 'em wasn't really into that kinda thing, but Katrina didn't mind teachin' me everything."

"And your father didn't mind?" Minnie asks wonderingly.

Velma, dusting a little more eyeshadow on, giggles. "By the time he got around to me, he knew it was pretty much useless to try an' stop me bein' a girl. Same thing happened when I started datin' boys. He just told me to be careful."

Minnie releases a long, drawn-out sigh. "I love Ricky, and I'm very proud of him, but I wish I had sisters."

Velma smiles. "Well," she says, "that's what we're for, Minnie. Ricky's in the Navy, right?"

"Right," Minnie confirms, her lips curving up into a smile that Velma can tell reaches all the way to her eyes, even though they're closed. "In the South Pacific. Oh," she chirps, "is Peter coming tonight?"

Velma pauses at the mention of her brother. Minnie and Peter are in the same class at school, along with A-Rab, Anybodys, and Baby John, but Peter is a soccer player and hangs out with a different group of friends entirely, like Big Deal's brother Rudi, so it feels a little odd hearing Minnie ask about him. "I think so, yeah. He's got a date—Claire, I think, or Claudia—"

"Clarissa Clausen," Minnie cheerfully fills in. "She's a very nice girl, and very friendly to all the boys in our class."

Then again, Velma thinks with a smile, Minnie is the kind of girl who knows and likes everyone, including the 'friendly' girls. Inspecting Minnie's eyelids, she bites back a giggle. To Minnie, 'friendly' just means friendly, plain and simple. Even if Velma is pretty sure everyone else would call it something more. "I'm sure she is."

"I hope they have a nice time," reflects Minnie comfortably. "I hope we all do."

Velma, after one last look, sets the makeup brush back onto the vanity, and the brunette opens her eyes. "Me, too, Minnie," she says with a smile, and gestures to the mirror. "Take a look."

Minnie swivels around and gasps. "Oh—Velma—you're sure it's not too much?"

Velma giggles. "We can always ask Graz."

"Ya called, girls?" purrs Graziella, leaning provocatively against the door-frame, still clad only in her lingerie. The Jet leader's girl sways over, red-orange hair now perfectly curled and arranged just-so over her shoulders.

Minnie, turning her head, gasps. "Oh, Graziella, your hair looks wonderful!"

"It does," agrees Velma approvingly. "Graz, how's Minnie look?"

Graziella's meticulously-plucked eyebrows snap together as she scrutinizes the brunette. "Well…"

Minnie's eyes widen in anxiety. "Oh, I knew it, it's too—"

"I can barely tell she's wearin' any!" laments Graziella loudly. "Where's her face?"

"See, Minnie?" asks Velma, unable to resist an amused grin. "It ain't too much."

Minnie looks only half-convinced. "But—"

"You look beautiful," Velma says firmly. Moving over to the bed, she picks up the garment bag that holds her dress and matching shoes and heads toward the vacated bathroom. "Be right back."

Once she's closed the door, Velma opens the bag and tugs on first her dance tights, tucking the waistband under her corselette, then her green bloomers. Then she pulls her dress from the bag and smiles. Velma has had more than a few dresses over the years, but this is hands-down one of her favorites. Unzipping the back, she steps into the ripples of pale blue fabric and works it up over her undergarments and into its proper place. And Velma, stepping into her shoes and smoothing the layers over her body, smiles at her reflection. She's been feeling like something good—she doesn't know what—is going to happen all week. She doesn't know what, and she doesn't know when, but maybe it will be tonight.

By the time she exits Graziella's bathroom, her best friend is dressed and fussing over her jewelry. Velma turns the open back of her dress to Minnie. "Can you?"

The brunette nods happily and tugs the zipper up. "You look so pretty," she sighs dreamily. "I just know Ice will think so too."

"Thanks, Minnie," Velma smiles as she slips her bracelet and earrings on. She does hope so. Ice tells her she is beautiful all the time, but she's never lost that little thrill at the words. "Same for you an' Baby John."

Minnie immediately turns pink, but before she can say anything, the doorbell rings and Velma, grabbing her purse, moves to leave the bedroom and answer it.

"Vel!" chides Graziella. "Don'tcha know ya gotta keep 'em waitin'? Makes 'em want ya more," she adds knowledgeably as Minnie's eyes widen.

Velma pauses only to roll her eyes at her best friend and quickly smooth her hands over her dress before hurrying through the hall and to the door to see three Jets looking uncomfortably spruced-up in coats and ties.

"Graz is almost ready an' Minnie'll be out in a sec," she tells Riff and Baby John, but Velma only has eyes for one boy. Reaching out, she takes Ice's hand. "Hi, honey."

The corner of her boyfriend's mouth turns up as he winds his fingers through hers. "Damn," he says appreciatively, "ya look good, Vee."

And there it is—that little shiver of anticipation and delight that comes over her every time she sees him, no matter what. Velma reaches up for him, whispers, "All for you, Daddy-O," before kissing him, long and slow. It's not as if it's been ages since they've seen each other—not even a full day—but she's been missing him the whole time anyway.

Ice is famous around the West Side for his poker face, but right now it's not hard to tell that he's been missing her, too. And one of the nice things about her boyfriend, Velma thinks happily, is that he's a very good kisser. Too good, in fact. It isn't until Riff lets out a catcalling whistle that she remembers that there are other people around and she lets go, smirking up at Ice, whose pale eyes look a little unfocused as he slides his arm around her waist and clears his throat.

"Sorry, Baby John," she adds mischievously.

"N—no problem," stutters the blond boy with a weak smile, before muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "Don't trip."

Velma smiles. Minnie is like the little sister she never had, and for all his clumsy shyness, she can't help being fond of Baby John, too. She does wish, though, that he would go ahead and ask Minnie to be his girl already. It's obvious to everyone that he is crazy about her, just like everyone also knows that she feels the same way about him. Velma glances at Ice, who gives her a slow, lingering smile. And when it's that obvious, she thinks, inhaling deeply and moving closer to him, why waste time?

"Hey, Graz!" calls Riff impatiently, "get a move on, will ya?"

"You'll wait 'til we're good an' ready, Riffy-poo!" sings out Graziella sweetly from her room.

Minnie, face flushed and excited, hurries out of the bedroom and over to Baby John, who promptly turns purple. "Hi, Johnny," she greets. "You look very handsome tonight. Hello, Riff," she adds with a sunny smile in his direction. Riff manages a half-grin at her before he goes back to boring his eyes into Graziella's door.

Baby John audibly gulps. "H—hi, Minnie. You look—real nice," he offers with a feeble attempt at a smile.

Velma breathes a mental sigh, wishing that Baby John could just for once get past his shyness and give Minnie a real compliment, but Minnie doesn't seem to mind. "Thank you!" she beams instead.

Riff, still antsy, discreetly rolls his eyes at Ice and taps his foot. "Graz, baby, c'mon—"

"Ya called?" Graziella purrs for the second time that night, vamping in her doorway to display her curves to the greatest effect.

And it works. Riff's mouth quirks up in an approving smile. "You're late, Graz," he grumbles as she struts over, but it's clear his heart isn't it in as he pulls the redhead into his side. "Damn it if it wasn't worth it, though."

"That's what I thought," preens Graziella, tapping him on the nose. "Now c'mon, Riffy-poo, we're gonna be late!"

Velma trades an amused glance with Ice as Graziella tugs Riff down the stairs and the three couples set off. Riff and Graziella fight like nobody's business, and she's heard both of them swear up and down that it's the last straw and they're not taking any more of it, but every single time they argue, they get back together again. That's just the way they work. Fight, make up, fight, make up. It's how they are, and to be honest, Velma wouldn't know what to make of them if they suddenly stopped bickering all the time. Neither, she suspects, would they.

"I like your way better," murmurs Ice cautiously after they're a good distance down the street and it's abundantly obvious that Riff and Graziella are paying everyone else absolutely no attention at all. "Drop-dead gorgeous and on time."

Velma dimples. "Don't be so charming," she teases, glancing up at him. "It don't suit you strong, silent types."

Ice, keeping his eyes on the street, half-smiles. "I'm a type?"

Velma giggles. "The best type."

Ice squeezes her shoulder. "Better'n those lousy idiots back in your old neighborhood?"

"The ones you beat up?" smirks Velma.

Ice ducks his head a little with an abashed grin. "Well, you didn't mind, did ya?"

Instead of answering such a silly question, Velma smiles to herself and settles happily into Ice's side, holding him even tighter. At this moment under the moon and the stars and the night sky in the arms of the boy who means everything to her, there's nowhere in the world she'd rather be. Happiness like this, Velma thinks, is what life is all about.

After a moment, she glances up at him. "You still walkin' me home after, honey?"

Instead of confirming, Ice grimaces. "About that…"

Velma's gaze doesn't leave his. "What?" she asks slowly, searching his face for clues. She has a sinking feeling she knows what he is about to say, but she hopes she is wrong.

She is not. "Riff's challengin' the Sharks tonight 'round ten," Ice admits in a low sigh. "An' he might wanna have the war council after the dance if there're too many cops an' people around before."

Velma bites her lip and stares at the pavement. She knows it's not his fault, that it wasn't him who picked the fight with the other gang, but still. The timing…well, she should have known it was too good to last. "Somethin' happen today? Last you said, it wasn't that bad."

Ice tightens his grip on her waist a little. "They jumped Baby John this afternoon at the playground," he explains. "'S what happened to his face."

Velma glances up at Baby John and Minnie, who is indeed cooing over the livid red welts on his cheek and ear, and sighs, looking back at him. "An' it's gotta be tonight?"

"Better sooner'n later," Ice nods, eyes intense. "We keep lettin' 'em go like this, an' pretty soon they'll be settin' up camp down the block from Doc's."

Velma doesn't say anything. Sure, they're Puerto Ricans, but they can't really be that much of a threat, can they? Enough to need a war council? A rumble? They've only had one since she's been here. More than a few fistfights in the alleys, sure, Velma thinks, but only one all-out, full-blown rumble, like the kind Graziella and Clarice talk about in hushed whispers after making sure Minnie is nowhere in sight. Pauline and Bernice are usually in on this conversation, too. After all, thinks Velma, quirking up one corner of her mouth, it concerns what they like most of all.

She still remembers that night. Before Ice came back, eyes hot and blood full of adrenaline, Velma hadn't understood exactly why the girls were so excited that day. Just wait, they'd said. You'll see. It's like nothing you've ever—

But then Minnie had come over and the girls had clammed up and she had had to wait until that night to see what they meant.

Velma shivers now at the memory. She is the last to deny that she would turn down another post-rumble date, but she also knows that half the passion is just plain relief that he's okay. Is that worth the risk? Maybe, she supposes, but only if he comes back safe every time, like Graziella has assured her is the case with Riff. Uncertainty, like most of the things that are out of Velma's control, isn't really her style.

Ice pulls her a little closer, and Velma, glancing up and seeing the shamefaced look in his blue eyes, realizes with a start that they've walked a whole block in silence. "I'll make it up to ya," he promises, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

Velma sighs. "You don't need to do that, Ice," she says softly. Velma knows he already feels guilty enough, and if there really is going to be a war council tonight, Ice, as Riff's friend and lieutenant, doesn't need any distractions. She slides her arms around him and sighs again, resigned. "Just—stay in one piece, okay?"

Ice gives her a half-smile. "If that's all it takes," he says, voice low and sure, "I'll try."