A/N: This is my response to the "Thunder" prompt from fanfic100! Not really much to say about it, except for FLUFF OVERLOAD. :D

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson is a genius. Jonathon Larson owns RENT. I am not a genius. Therefore I am not Jonathon Larson. Therefore I do not own RENT.



The squeak pulled Thomas Collins groggily from sleep and he found himself a bit annoyed with his lover for waking him. It was still dark outside from what he could see, and he had a class in the morning. Angel knew this; why was she waking him? "Angel, what…?"

"Collins, honey…the power went out," Angel murmured.

"So?" Collins grumbled. "It's nighttime Angel. It doesn't really matter; we're not using any lights right now anyway."

"I know, but…," she whimpered, then nearly jumped right out of the bed when a powerful, long roll of thunder rolled through and practically rattled the walls. She pressed up against Collins, closing her eyes as her breathing became more rapid in response to fear.

"Angel?" he muttered, turning over to look at her. The anger had just flown out of him, replaced with worry. "Babe, what's wrong?"

Angel shook her head against his chest and burrowed further in, pulling the blankets over her head as another thunder shock rocked the apartment. Collins' arms went around her and shushed her, murmuring, "You afraid of thunder, baby?"

"I have been since I was a little kid," Angel muttered back, her voice muffled by his skin. "Especially really bad ones like these."

"Why?" Collins asked, utterly confused. He'd always seen thunder and lightning as kind of beautiful in a way. Destructive, yes, but alluring and pleasing to the eyes in that strange way nature has to draw you into its most terrific of features. It was the same with fire, waterfalls, and even mountains and cliffs to a certain degree, though Collins had never been good with heights.

"I don't know," Angel sighed. "I just don't like them. They're loud and scary and they make tornadoes…"

"Angel, we live in a high-pressure area," Collins said. "With lots of tall buildings all around us. A tornado would be really hard-put to form in those conditions."

"Thank you, Chuck Gaidica," Angel muttered.

Collins chuckled and brushed his lips over her forehead. "I'm just trying to tell you that there's nothing to worry about, babygirl."

"I'm still scared," Angel told him, whimpering as lightning flashed again, thunder following almost immediately after. "Collins! It's getting closer! It's right over our heads!"

"It's gotta get worse before it gets better, Ang," Collins reminded.

"I want it to get better now!" Angel whined, sinking so far under the blankets that the top of her curly head was barely showing above the edge of the sheet. Collins lifted it up and ducked under with her. They lay face-to-face under the thin blankets, only able to see the vague outline of each other's faces and the occasional shimmer from an eye.

"I have an idea," Collins said.

"Hmm?" Angel muttered.

"Think of something nice," Collins said. "Like bunnies or something. Something that'll get your mind off of it. And if you do that enough, you'll eventually not fear the storm because every time there's a storm, you'll think of that thing and you won't be afraid anymore."

"Okay," Angel murmured. She lay there for a second before a small smile spread across her face; Collins could see this because the plains of her face suddenly had more depth to them. "I'm thinking of something."

"Care to share?" Collins asked.

"Guess," Angel giggled. Another roll of thunder went through and she squeaked, shifting closer to Collins.

"Aw, Ang I hate twenty questions," Collins muttered.

"Just guess, lover," Angel whispered. Her hands were suddenly on his bare chest, tracing little patterns and circles along his skin.

"Okay…is it in the apartment?" Collins asked, trying to ignore her hands running all over his skin.

Shifting as Angel nodded, her face showing that she was quite involved with her current activities.

"Is it…within twenty feet of you?"

"Mmhm," Angel replied.

"Ten feet?"




"That mean yes?"

Angel giggled and said, "Yes, Collins."

"What color is it?" Collins asked, racking his brains for something that was within five feet of Angel currently.

"…I dunno," Angel muttered, ponderingly. "It's a kind of…dark chocolate brown color. But not all over." She suddenly seized one of his hands and stared at it, palm facing her. "In some places, it's almost like a mocha. And then in others, it's red-brown." She looked up and kissed his lips.

"I shouldn't have asked," Collins laughed, not having needed to hear such a graphic description of his own skin tone. Though it was a lot better than some of the things people had refered to him as because of it; kind of sexy, really. "So you're thinkin' about me, huh? Is it working?"

"Kinda," Angel agreed.

"Should we make it work better?" Collins inquired, leaning in and capturing her earlobe gently between his teeth.

"How so?" Angel whispered back, pushing forward so everything from chest to knee was touching. She felt Collins wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, his knee going between her thighs and gently parting them. With a smile she murmured, "Oh, I see…" and connected their lips in a tender kiss.

He rolled her gently onto her back and knelt between her slightly parted legs, cupping each of her thighs and pushing them apart, urging her to part them further. She did, and he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder, turning his face into her leg and kissed the junction linking her thigh and the rest of her leg underneath her knee. He took in her scent; something oddly fruit yet floral. It was intoxicating.

"Lover…," Angel whispered, shuddering as thunder rattled the walls once again.

"Shh," Collins whispered, reaching a hand out and caressing Angel's cheek. Angel closed her eyes and leaned into the hand, turning her lips towards his palm and kissing it. His hand left her face and trailed to her stomach, where he snuck it up under her shirt, and back up to her chest where he began tenderly caressing her nipples, feeling them harden under his ministrations. "Just think about this, babe. Think about how you feel here. Not about what's going on outside."

"Okay," Angel agreed in a barely audible murmur, settling back into the pillows.

Collins knew that too much attention to Angel's nipples would change pleasure into discomfort, so he left them before that happened and let his hand trail farther downwards, stopping at the waistband of Angel's shorts and dipping his thumb underneath to barely brush the soft skin that lay there. Angel shuddered and her full lips parted to let out a moaning sigh.

"How's that feel, Angel?" Collins whispered, trying to keep her mind off of the still raging storm. He had a mission and storm be damned, he was going to succeed.

"Good," was all she could manage, which told him it was about five hundred times better than that. Her fingers were already curving into the sheets, knotting her fingers into them.

He let his hand travel down her stomach, feeling the muscles there flinch and tense at his touch, and continue down to rest between her legs, making her gasp as his hand reached her most secret of places and began to stroke her. Her face sunk into one of great pleasure, and her hands began to outright fist the blankets, her thighs giving a twitch every time his hand passed a particularly sensitive spot.

"Collins," she whimpered. "Please."

He nodded and pulled her shorts down her long legs, tossing them into the darkness and only vaguely seeing where they landed thanks to a flash of lightning as they were flying through the air. He was pleased to note that Angel barely jumped at the following thunder.

He rested his warm palm against her stomach, rubbing gently as he leaned over and pulled the lubricant from the bedside table drawer. He pulled his own pajama pants down, effectively ridding himself of the only article of clothing separating him from Angel.

Angel moved her other foot up to rest on his shoulder as well, and he placed a pillow under her hips. He squeezed some of the cool, clear liquid onto his fingers and gently pushed one into her, watching as her eyes closed and her lips parted, feeling her twitch and hearing her gasp. He leaned down and kissed her neck, adding another finger. She moaned again, and as he began to scissor whispered, "More…"

"You sure?" Collins murmured into her neck.

"I'm sure," Angel replied. Collins had somehow managed to never hurt her. She was no stranger to how painful this particular act could be, and when she'd informed Collins of this, he'd promised to never let her feel that sort of pain again. Since she'd been with Collins, the only pain she'd felt had been the slight burn that anyone familiar with that act knew came with penetration, and was unavoidable even for the gentlest of partners.

Collins, thought slightly dubious (Yes he'd never hurt her; no need to push the boundaries, though) complied and slid a third finger into her, in response to which she gasped and dug her fingers into the mattress, twisting them into the sheets and letting her torso arch up slightly.

He leaned down and gently kissed her neck, whispering sweet nothings to her as he finished the preparation.

When he was sure she was prepared enough, he took the lube and spread some upon himself, before placing his hands on her hips, lifting her pelvis to line up with his, and slowly pushed into her.

She cried out, arching her back and pushing against him to take as much of him as possible. The thunder still shaking the walls suddenly didn't matter much, and Collins' slow movements within her rid her mind of anything but pleasure and love. Something would still flare up in the back of her mind when the thunder would roll, but she was able to tune it out.

"Collins," Angel moaned. "Harder, baby…"

Collins sped his pace and began thrusting into her faster, reaching a speed and rhythm he knew she liked. Little gasps were spilling forth upon every thrust and one hand gripped the sheets, while the other was now in Collins', their fingers intertwined on Angel's chest, right over her pounding heart.

Pleasure, connection, love.

Her gasps became mewls, and these became whines. Sweat dotted her forehead, and their bodies slid together in the timeless dance of lovers. She cried out as she came to a shattering release, shuddering as each wave took her. Collins buried his face in her neck and let his pleasure take him over, mumbling her name over and over again, "Angel, Angel, Angel…"

Angel pulled his head down to rest against her chest and ran her fingers through his short hair as they calmed. He pulled out of her slowly and gently and lay beside her, his head still against her chest. She kissed his forehead, then let go and moved so their faces were level with each other. She whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," Collins countered, kissing the tip of her nose. "Better now?"

"Yeah," Angel murmured, and Collins reached onto the nightstand to rip a few tissues out of the box that sat there. With these he wiped the mess off of Angel's stomach and chest, and cleaned off the back of her thighs, where his seed was beginning to slowly trickle down.

He rejoined her side, only to find her already asleep. And she didn't even wake up as thunder rocked the room. He smiled and took her in his arms, spooning her and burying his face into the back of her neck.

This probably wouldn't work for long; old habits and fears died hard, and no doubt when the next storm rolled around, Angel would be just as freaked out as this time. But he didn't really mind; as long as he was there (And he wouldn't really mind if Angel called him at the university and asked him home) he wouldn't mind repeating this again. If Angel needed him to feel safe, so be it.

Honestly, he couldn't think of any other person he'd rather be needed by.

End Story

A/N: This kinda went from fluffy to smutty, and kinda suddenly had no plot…but I kinda like it. I mean, after all, most AC stories are either FWP (Fluff Without Plot) or PWP (Porn Without Plot) soooo…yeah. I feel pretty good about this. :D