Azkadellia's Okay! Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
Twooooooooooo posts. Go us?
Banner by magicscalpel
AUTHORS: andrealyn and luchia13
TITLE: Azkadellia's Okay! (With Ambrose and the Cains' help), Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
RATING: PG-13 this time 'round.
PAIRING: Ambrose/Cain (or Cain/Ambrose, whatever), VERY FUTURE Az/OC and Jeb/OC/OC, one-sided OC/Az.
DESCRIPTION: When the Witch picks another target, everything changes. Including switching out the Roboparents for Ambrose and the only Tin Man who knows what's going on (and his kid).
This Part: Cain tries and tries and tries, Jeb is sane, and Ambrose and Azkadellia are FAR too hot.
Part 1: Things Explode; Iceland Blamed.
Part 2: Pink House Purchased; Introductions Ensue.
Part 3: Fight In Classroom; Landslide Victory.
Part 4: Cain Doesn't Move; Children Scream.
Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
Part 6: Dog In Prison; Keys Lost.
Part 7: Woman Hurt; Ship Sinks.
Part 8: Judgment Questioned; Test Given.
Part 9: Knives Purchased; Masochism Denied.
Part 10: Prowler Exposed; Boyfriend Threatened.
Note: This is the first of two posts!
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
It was six annuals to the day.
Cain had gone to bed with Ambrose as was their normal routine, but around the middling hours of the morning, he had found a pair of sweats and slowly snuck out of bed (tucking Ambrose in with the remainder of the blankets). There were just some nights that he couldn't sleep and he happened to be in the midst of one of them. He didn't bother with a shirt and pulled up the rocking chair he kept to the window to stare at the single moon in the sky and all those obstructed stars and tried to stave off the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him.
Six annuals and he had moved on -- seriously, no less, to someone he could see himself...well, that was for him to know.
And somewhere in the beyond, Adora was. Cain prayed that she was at least at peace and that he wasn't enjoying a happy life while she suffered and a weary sigh was drawn past his lips as he sat there, unable to do much else but stare at the sky with dulled eyes and wonder just what was waiting for him in the future.
He wondered whether at the end of this fifteen-annual journey, he'd be joining her in the great thereafter.
Ambrose didn't even know Cain was out of bed until he rolled onto more bed when it should have been the other man. Even then, it took a long while for him to realize that there was something stranger than usual tonight, and when he finally sat up in bed and caught sight of Cain staring up at the stars.
"It still surprises me every time," Ambrose said, still not entirely awake, let alone sure if Cain even wanted to talk. "One moon, completely different constellations, one sun. They have better telescopes here, though, even if they have less to see."
Cain's shoulders tensed slightly at the voice, not having wanted to wake Ambrose at all and figuring he could sleep through his disappearance. Still, he relaxed when he knew Ambrose just had the best of intentions and he looked back through the moonlit darkness to find Ambrose and look at him as he spoke. "You know we've been together nearly four annuals?" he asked, voice rough and almost bitter.
Ambrose barely restrained a flinch at the tone, how it sounded like this was the talk that would end it all, even after all the mess they'd been through with the kids. He didn't want to deal with this, but if Cain did, that meant they were dealing with it.
"No, I didn't know that," Ambrose said, a hand going into his hair as he turned his face away. "I'm beginning to think keeping track of time really isn't my strong suit."
Cain would have happily taken care of time, because that was his job, to keep care of things. He took a deep sigh and lifted himself from the chair to wander back to the bed and sit down on the edge, half-facing Ambrose. "Adora died six annuals ago. To the day," he admitted wearily. "And I think to myself that after only two annuals, only two, I moved on from my wife because I was so tired of sitting here and watching you with Jane, not knowing how to be alone."
Guilt swarmed over Ambrose, and it showed in the way his shoulders tensed and his head bowed a little. He still felt horrible about how things had ended with Jane, still felt guilty about the fact they hadn't been able to save DG when they might have had the chance.
"You always have Jeb, and you'll always have your memories of Adora," he said as calmly as he could. "I'm not the best timekeeper in either world, but I do know that a lot can happen in two annuals."
Cain glanced over to Ambrose in the dim light of the room and it was easy to see that he was bare, absolutely removed of any masks or pretenses. "How do I get to move on and be happy?" he had to wonder, voice hoarse. "It should have been me in there, too. I was supposed to be in that building that day. Adora never should have been there." He dug one hand into the coverlets, sinking forward heavily. "She doesn't get to see Jeb grow into the fine man he is, she doesn't get to live, she gets nothing. And I get everything."
"Don't you think that's what she'd want you to have?" Ambrose frowned at him, not entirely certain how that particular train of thought had come chugging along for Cain. He shook his head. "None of this should have happened, Cain. Adora shouldn't have died, DG shouldn't be possessed, Az shouldn't have been killed. We just do the best we can with what's left. That's all we can do."
"And somehow, in the midst of all this," he said, the faint hint of reddened eyes about his face proving he was actually being emotional about something for once, "Somehow," he continued, threading a hand through Ambrose's hair and looking at him. "I get you. Adora loved me and I loved her. I just think this is a bit uneven, Ambrose."
Ambrose couldn't do anything but look at him, a strange calm settling over him. "What do you think she'd have done if it was you who'd died? What would you want for her?"
"Well, sweetheart, I have a funny time imagining her here with you," Cain found himself admitting in a strangled tone, suddenly picturing it and being unable to get it out of his head. He had no doubts that Adora could protect Azkadellia far fiercer than he ever could, but the sudden gripping image of Adora in bed with Ambrose and it made him so intensely pleased and distressed at once that he let out a cough of a choked laugh. "Gods," he wheezed out softly.
Ambrose chuckled. "Not exactly what I meant," he said, and very carefully pulled Cain into a soft hug. "She still loves you. Nothing like that can end when people die."
Cain felt himself slowly thaw and detach from his grief as he nearly crushed Ambrose with his returning hug until he could get a hold of himself and detached from the hug, sliding back into bed like none of this had happened. He still did wrap an arm around his waist to keep Ambrose close. "I want to have a ceremony to honor her. Tomorrow," he said, rough and sudden. "I need to. And I want you to be there."
"Of course I'll be there," Ambrose said as calm and caring as he could manage. He knew how to deal with Azkadellia when she was like this, but this was an entirely different situation. Ambrose kissed him softly on the forehead. "Whatever you need to do or want to do, I'll be there."
"I know you will be," Cain said, his voice pained slightly and he closed his eyes at the kiss, cupping Ambrose's cheek and brushing fingers in the curls and leaning in. "Let's just go back to sleep, okay? Let's just pretend this never happened."
Saying 'pretend this never happened' was one of the greatest oxymorons in the world, in Ambrose's opinion, but he simply nodded and shut his eyes. "Whatever you need, Cain."
--
Azkadellia had explained many things to Cain and Ambrose in the time they had been on the Otherside. She had needed them to understand about things like underwear and bras, high school registration, student government, and now she had them sitting down and was already wearing her emerald-green formal dress with a black shawl over her bare shoulders (as the dress was sleeveless) and her hair was pinned up intricately with pearls everywhere to make it dazzle. She'd even gone slightly overboard with nails and makeup and now stood before them in the living room.
Cain was to her left and reclined in the chair and Ambrose sat to her right in yet another reclining chair, fidgeting with something that might have been a terribly dangerous invention -- or possibly a can of fruit.
"It's tradition," she said, in her most regal voice, lifting her chin. "High school students attend this dance at the end of their senior year to mark their accomplishments and endeavor on a path to the future."
"It's a dance," Cain said tersely, directly to Ambrose, "where underage kids drink too much, boys grope girls, and more often than not, I get called in to break some after-party up." He turned his attention back to Azkadellia to offer a pointed look. "It's one of the nights I look forward to the least and you want to be out there with them? I arrest ten to twenty kids every year around this time."
"I have to be there," Azkadellia said simply, as if there was no other option. "People expect to see me and I'm supposed to give a speech, being valedictorian."
"Who are you going with?" Cain asked flatly.
"Friends."
"No boyfriend?"
"None."
"And you expect me and Ambrose to just sit at home while you're surrounded by a whole crowd of people, where strangers might just sneak in, with no weapons on you?" Cain asked dubiously. "I can't go unless you want the school to riot, seeing as the Sheriff at prom might cause issues." He let his gaze loll to the side. "You willing to stay up tonight? Watch over her? Which," he said sharply, "doesn't mean you won't be armed. But it's up to Ambrose. If he goes and watches over you, you've got permission."
Ambrose was tempted to say no simply for safety reasons, but Azkadellia had turned her face straight towards him, eyes all wide and begging as regally as anyone could manage while begging. He let out a breath and nodded to Cain, trying to ignore how much of a bad idea he thought this would be. Her smile was big enough for Ambrose to decide the risk was worth it.
He stood up. "I'll go change into something more decent," Ambrose said, mind still screaming that this was a horrible idea, but if Azkadellia wanted to go and it was expected, they'd have to make some allowances. After all, when they went back to the O.Z. she'd be at royal functions all the time, and they wouldn't be there to guard her at all times.
But then again, by then DG wouldn't be possessed, the Witch would be dead, and the Queen would be back on her throne.
"If Cain says to put an entire arsenal under that skirt, you can miniaturize it." She looked a bit surprised at the idea of that many weapons hanging in what Ambrose thought was far too skimpy a skirt, floor length or not, but nodded as Ambrose walked upstairs to try and find something to wear. He trusted Cain more than himself when it came to weaponry. They each had their own specialties, after all.
Cain watched Ambrose leave for a long moment, absently calling up a 'you look best in that tailored jacket' after him before turning his attention back to Azkadellia, pushing himself up from the chair to open the very bottom drawer of the dining-room cabinet.
Where most people kept silverware in their dining rooms, Cain kept his personal array of weapons (from flea markets, the O.Z., and work) in that drawer and he plucked them out one by one to eye them considerately in the light of the room.
Eventually, he was content with a silver dagger and a strap of velcro to begin with. "This, you wear under the skirt on your thigh," he lectured heavily, placing it in her palm. Azkadellia seemed to understand that she was walking a very precarious edge and Cain might be swayed to the other side at any moment and so she obeyed and clasped fingers tighter around it. He kept rooting through, finding a small black object. "This is mace. You carry this in your purse and you spray the first boy who tries to attack you or grope you. Or look at you. Or offer you a drink."
With those two objects entrusted to her, he kept looking and found a little vial, handing it over. "This goes anywhere you can find. It's chloroform. Just in case. Ambrose will know what to do with it."
And just for luck, he gave her a second dagger.
"And the kitchen sink?" Azkadellia very politely asked, without a hint of sarcasm in the quite sarcastic comment.
"Don't test me," Cain warned. "One word and I'll tell Ambrose about all the sappy love songs boys use as an excuse to feel up girls, not to mention the terrible, terrible food they cater with at these things." He had possibly been to one too many proms already in his time in Baker.
She nodded and dutifully headed upstairs to stuff her dress full of weapons, shoes and blades clicking primly with every step. Ambrose took a moment to stare at her while he was shrugging into the tailored jacket.
Ambrose smiled at her. "I'm surprised there aren't more."
"I'll be safe," Azkadellia said, almost as if she were trying to convince them both. "You've all been teaching me to protect myself since I was little."
"There's always more to learn," Ambrose said lightly, and she flashed him a tiny smile before moving into her bedroom and shutting the door. He was tempted to point out she'd probably have a bit of difficulty defending herself in those shoes and that changing into some good running shoes would be smart, but a considering look at his own dress shoes made him decide that he really didn't want to be a hypocrite.
Ambrose held out two ties to Cain as soon as he was on the first floor. "I haven't had to actually dress up for anything in a while. Gold, blue, or no tie? They're both explosives of course, but I always have the handkerchief on me and that packs a bit more of a punch," he added.
Cain just took the gold tie from Ambrose's hands and gave him a wary look at the fact that his clothes could explode at any moment. "I sincerely hope," he started in a low tone, wrapping the fabric around Ambrose's neck and starting the practiced routine of tying the tie in a square knot, "that you don't sleep in anything explosive. I like all of me where it is currently."
He looked Ambrose up and down and after finishing the tie, he smoothed a palm out over the jacket, adjusting the collar of the shirt and stepping back to take in a look at the bigger picture.
Ambrose couldn't help but smile. "Cain, when's the last time we've had to worry about clothing in bed? I think you're safe."
"You look nice," Cain said, prying the blue-colored explosive tie from his hands and setting it on the tabletop so it could be put away later without incident. And because there was some old adage about a 'kiss for luck', Cain eased in and pressed a light one to Ambrose's cheek, turning and digging through another drawer.
He turned and held a purple carnation in his fingers, twirling it and snapping it at the stem, tucking it into Ambrose's front pocket neatly, arranging it so it wouldn't tip over anytime soon.
His eyes rose at the kiss and surprise boutonniere. Ambrose gently poked at the flower and then looked at Cain, amused. "You really have been to too many proms," he commented. Honestly, Ambrose was beginning to wonder if he had any idea what to even do at a prom - it was far less formal than any court functions, and far more formal than anything he knew as casual. He was actually nervous about the whole thing, but he'd do anything for Azkadellia. Going to a dance wasn't exactly a painful stretch of his loyalty. He let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in. "At least one of us knows what's going on. What should I expect, aside from drunk teenagers?"
Ambrose looked vaguely nervous and Cain wasn't sure what he could do to calm that down. All he did do was begin to talk about it, hands neatening corners and being generally better at tidying Ambrose up (one hand taking slightly too long in his hair). "Lots of clumsy slow-dancing. Terrible food. About four to five drunken displays. Usually some weeping from kids about to be split up, who are also intoxicated and maudlin," he advised and took a step back, finally taking his hands off of Ambrose.
"I'm ready," Azkadellia sounded from the doorway, a jacket draped over her shoulders and a purse held in her hand.
Cain crossed the room to inspect her, checking that yes, she did have the weapons on her and yes, she was carrying the mace and yes, she was the most lethal thing around. Toto seemed to be peering up from the ground and barked twice, as if giving his own doggie-approval.
"I'll be by to pick the both of you up at midnight," Cain indicated. "I'm not working this prom, gave it to one of the others so I'll be able to just bring you home and tuck you in. Azkadellia, no alcohol," he directed. "You're not twenty-one just yet. Ambrose," he said, turning to look at him sharply. "Limit yourself."
Ambrose was almost tempted to be insulted at the thought of ignoring the princess' security for alcohol, but settled for nodding curtly. After all, it sounded like drinking, dancing, and attempted groping was all that went on at proms. He held out an arm for Azkadellia, and her own arm slid right onto his with a small smile, and Ambrose couldn't help but smile back.
"I have no idea how you grew up so fast," he muttered, and she squeezed his arm lightly. Sometimes he couldn't tell if she was an adult or a child, and the question pressed even deeper into his mind with how much she looked like her mother when she was all dolled up like now. "You're meeting friends at the prom?"
Azkadellia nodded. "Karen, Patricia, and Nancy specifically."
Ambrose took a deep breath. "This should be interesting." He twisted to give Cain what hopefully looked like a smile. "I'll be waiting for midnight."
"Have fun," Cain extended the offer to them and it came across mildly pained, like he really would rather be the one there (and with a gun, no less). But they had made their arrangements and Cain let them leave and headed off to check on Jeb with Toto at his side.
Azkadellia was keeping an eye on the space before her and on Ambrose as well, squeezing his arm just slightly. "Ambrose," she began, her voice hardly hesitant and no parts wary. She just sounded like she was searching for something. "Are you proud of me?"
It seemed the theme lately. With everyone matriculating, parents were proud and gifts were given and graduation was on the horizon. It was just one more reminder that her own parents were anything but normal and that little gnat in her ear kept buzzing these days, the one that reminded her that both Ambrose and Cain were there on business to protect her and her real parents were somewhere so very far away.
Ambrose smiled at her. It was a soft, caring smile that said almost every word he could ever speak about the subject, but he spoke anyway. "Do you know how amazing you are? You make me proud of you every moment of every day." His head tilted to the side slightly as they headed for the door. "Why?"
She could hear the affection in his voice, adoration and pride mixed together expertly. It was reassuring, but the worries were still there. Asking whether he loved her or not wasn't a subject she was willing to breach, considering the question would more than likely open up yet another floodgate of worries.
"You didn't have to say yes," Azkadellia said, the statement sounding like an answer instead of yet another question.
Ambrose laughed. "I don't have to do a lot of things, Az." Her brow furrowed slightly. It was enough for Ambrose to notice, though. "I said yes because you wanted to go. Protecting you is important, but so is your happiness."
Azkadellia kept her gaze down upon her feet, watching the sidewalk pass crack by crack as they went. It wasn't a very long walk to the school and Azkadellia had the feeling Cain was only coming to pick them up because he suspected that one of them might indulge in something alcoholic (even if it was only on accident as she had heard rumblings of someone wishing to spike the punch).
She felt strange. She felt like she was grown up and too young all at once and the notion of her becoming an adult, a woman was creeping into her consciousness slowly, but just barely. "Will you dance with me at least once, then?" she couldn't help but ask with a broad and genuine smile. "I would hate to think all our lessons were for nothing."
A surprised noise escaped as he looked at her. "You wouldn't be embarrassed? All your friends will be there, after all, and I'm-"
"Age doesn't matter when you're dancing, only skill and grace do," she said smoothly. "I'd be more worried about you disgracing everyone at the dance. I've never seen anyone dance quite like you do."
Ambrose wasn't entirely sure if that was a compliment or not, considering how gentle Azkadellia could make those double-edged comments of hers nowadays, but he smiled and nodded anyway. "I'd be honored. And don't forget you'd be showing them all up too."
Azkadellia's posture straightened just slightly as she squeezed Ambrose's hand just slightly tighter. She looked regal from afar and up close, it was stunning. "I know," she said simply, with absolutely no confidence lacking and she dug out her ticket from her purse and smiled plainly for Ambrose to see before turning on a charming and powerful smile for all her friends as she approached.
One of them in particular kept her eyes on Ambrose and slowly slid away from the group of taffeta-bedecked girls with their curls of hair and heavily-laden makeup.
"Are you Az's date?" she asked, eyes roaming him up and down.
Ambrose stared at her for a long while. She had green eyes, brown hair, and a black dress that was much less ornate than the others on. "...I'm her uncle," he finally managed to say, still slightly horrified at even the thought of dating Azkadellia. She was practically his daughter, and there was Cain to consider and the idea had actually managed to shake him slightly. He'd known coming to prom would be a bad idea. "Who are you?"
The girl held out a hand, and Ambrose managed to shake it well enough. "I'm Karen," she said simply.
The catalogue stuffed inside his brain finally clicked onto her. One of Azkadellia's friends, if not her best one. "I haven't seen you since you were both in middle school," Ambrose said, eyes wide.
"Children do grow up," Azkadellia said, finally close enough to him that he didn't feel like he needed to tug her back just in case something happened. She smiled at Karen. "You look lovely."
Karen smiled back, a slight blush on her cheeks. Ambrose remembered that she'd always been a bit shy, but the way she'd asked if he was her date...well. That hadn't seemed very shy. After Karen got out a short thank you she hurried inside of the school.
Azkadellia smiled at him. "Ready to go?"
He wanted to say 'not really,' but Azkadellia wanted this, so he smiled back and walked inside with her.
The gym had been turned into the best of attempts at an actual different location, but it was still a gym beneath it all. The wood floors squeaked at the men's shoes and the streamers and lights tried to take away from the look of being a place where normally basketball drills and soccer practices were run.
Azkadellia turned to regard Ambrose and offered a hand to him, almost as if this were court and not just a school setting. "You don't have to stay with me the whole night," she quietly assured him. "Cain's made sure I could fight a whole battle with the amount of weaponry on me. If you want to hover, please don't feel obligated to endure our silly talk."
With that, she drifted somewhat from him to Karen's side and in the light of the gym, it was hard to see the blush on Karen's cheeks, but it was there.
He couldn't help a slight smile, even though he knew there was a huge chance that the situation wouldn't end very well.
"Well, what do you think?" An excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Ambrose had to take a moment to look at the fluffed-up blonde before she registered as Nancy. "I was on the decorations committee. Isn't it great?"
"It's lovely," he said, with all the enthusiasm he could really muster for the topic. "I particularly like the..." Ambrose flailed for a topic. "The unique use as the bleachers for makeshift waterfalls with the multicolored blue streamers. It adds a touch of...of drama." Drama came out a bit pinched and more like a question, but Nancy was looking at him with wide, happy eyes.
"That's my favorite part too," she gasped.
"Wow," Ambrose echoed, not entirely certain why Azkadellia was so fond of the girl. Maybe she was only like this when it came to prom decorations. Either way, this was a situation he decided had called for an immediate escape-and-evade. "I have to go catch up with my niece now."
Nancy was quicker than him (being that she had the benefits of a younger age) and hurriedly stepped in front of Ambrose and stared up at him as the music began to filter in from one song to the next. "Oh, she's busy getting ready for her speech. She told me!" she assured hurriedly. "Would you like to dance?" she invited. "We can talk some more about the decorations. Or anything you like!" she hurried to add.
There was something panicky in those blue eyes of hers and it might have been the best warning sign Ambrose had to run.
It was only pushing nine PM and there were hours to go before Cain would even remotely be in the area to attend. Around them, boys were crashing drunkenly into the walls and announcing that it was time to 'hit that!' in many cases. In some corners were the weeping girls, attended to by their closest friends. Azkadellia was by the stage with Karen and sheaths of paper, studying them and scratching at them in some last-moment attempts to sort out speech-errors.
"Well?" Nancy asked once more. "Just a dance? Or maybe two until we get to the speeches and the presentations?"
Which were, she neglected to add, at the very end of prom.
Ambrose wasn't quite sure what to do. At an informal dance he could have just said 'no' and walked off, but at court back in the O.Z. that was the equivalent of slapping someone in the face. Not that he'd ever really been asked to dance very often, of course, but he knew the rules just like everyone else did.
"I'm not sure you'd want to dance with me," Ambrose said politely, trying to find some way to dodge dancing without insulting her. "I'm...I'm from Iceland, you see, and we might have very different ways of dancing-"
"Ooooh!" Nancy said, and the grin that spread across her face told him that he'd definitely chosen the wrong argument. "Then I can teach you! Come on!"
Ambrose couldn't even get out a protest before Nancy had latched onto one of his arms and was dragging him onto the floor, actually making him stumble. Ambrose couldn't even remember the last time he'd stumbled. But any chance of trying to remember was immediately stopped by his hands being moved straight onto her hips.
He immediately put his hands up like he was under arrest, gaping at her. Nancy actually giggled, full on tee-hees and all. "I'm teaching you how we dance here in America! Don't worry, you won't get in trouble for touching me. It's a free country!"
The professor in him was just about ready to go off on how no, it wasn't entirely free, but then she'd grabbed him again. He frowned at her. "One dance."
One dance somehow managed to become about seven because every time Ambrose tried to escape, Nancy would find a new excuse for him to stay, ranging from 'oh, please, just please? I don't want Tim to think no one wants to dance with me' to 'As the decoration committee, I need to appear engaged in the event' to the inevitable 'I can show you another type of dance'.
It was at the cusp of dance number eight that the doors to the gym opened quietly and Cain entered in a simple dress-shirt and pair of pants, blending in with the crowd (as was probably his intention).
The only respite Ambrose received from the dancing was the brief amount of time that Azkadellia spent reciting her well-practiced, eloquent, beautiful speech. But it was a brief one at that, for Azkadellia had gone into her speech not wanting to go on and on, but to brief and memorable.
As the applause ended, he narrowly avoided Nancy's lunge for his arm, heading straight for Azkadellia and Karen and, hopefully, salvation. "Ambrose-" Nancy began, but then Azkadellia was there, smiling at him and very gently taking his arm.
"I hope you've been treating my uncle well," she said pleasantly. "He's never been particularly fond of these sort of events."
"What does he prefer, then?" Nancy asked, sounding about ready to actually start an argument with Azkadellia, which wasn't a particularly intelligent decision to make. From the way Azkadellia's lips pressed together just a bit more, Ambrose knew it wouldn't be a pretty scene, so he carefully put Azkadellia's hand in his own.
"I believe you asked for a dance," he said simply, pulling Az away gently enough that it almost looked like she wasn't close to snapping at her friend.
"An Icelandian dance?" Nancy asked, and to Ambrose's surprise Karen actually smacked her on her bare shoulder.
"It's Icelandic, now go ask Tim to dance," she said. Looking chastised, she walked off, and Karen shook her head, turning to Azkadellia. "I know you had to pick one of them, but why'd you pick her?"
"Had to pick one of them?" Ambrose repeated, confused and slightly intrigued.
"She was nicer in middle school," Azkadellia said simply, and finally led Ambrose onto the dance floor.
Azkadellia smoothed her hair from her dress and pushed it back, self-consciously checking her eyeliner as she slid a hand to the small of Ambrose's back and eased in, watching both her footwork and her posture as she looked just over Ambrose's shoulder in Cain's direction and didn't so much as blink as he nodded to her.
He was there to watch her, but now was her time to dance with Ambrose.
"I suppose this isn't the place to thank you for everything you've done for me, but I want to," Azkadellia said, staring up at him as they moved with such speed and elegance that other dancers would have been put to shame by even an eighth of what they were doing. "I know we say you're my uncle, but the truth is that you're far more like a father to me, Ambrose."
The only thing that kept Ambrose from freezing at the words was the fact that dancing was deep in his bones, deep enough that he could stare at her without missing a step. Azkadellia had learned every move from him, and that meant they didn't miss a single twist.
Ambrose smiled at her brilliantly, and she seemed to take that as enough of an answer, beaming back at him in one of the least composed smiles he'd seen on her face in a very, very long time.
He couldn't decide if it was love or guilt that had his throat closing tight enough that he couldn't say a word, because he wasn't her father, wasn't even her uncle, and he didn't have a single claim to her, no matter how much he wanted one. Ambrose dipped her, and she came back up still smiling.
"What's that make Cain, then?" Ambrose didn't know where he'd gotten the strength to speak, but it made Azkadellia laugh lightly and shake her head in that 'you're so silly sometimes' move she'd learned over the years. He spun her out and then back in, and finally managed to clear his throat. She wasn't his daughter, but that didn't mean he didn't wish she was sometimes, didn't mean he didn't love her like one. "I-"
"Thank you for the dance," she said politely, separating with a slightly more awkward than usual curtsy thanks to all the weaponry she was wearing. Before Ambrose was even out of his slight bow, she was walking back towards a softly-smiling Karen.
Next post (on this here journal).
Banner by magicscalpel
AUTHORS: andrealyn and luchia13
TITLE: Azkadellia's Okay! (With Ambrose and the Cains' help), Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
RATING: PG-13 this time 'round.
PAIRING: Ambrose/Cain (or Cain/Ambrose, whatever), VERY FUTURE Az/OC and Jeb/OC/OC, one-sided OC/Az.
DESCRIPTION: When the Witch picks another target, everything changes. Including switching out the Roboparents for Ambrose and the only Tin Man who knows what's going on (and his kid).
This Part: Cain tries and tries and tries, Jeb is sane, and Ambrose and Azkadellia are FAR too hot.
Part 1: Things Explode; Iceland Blamed.
Part 2: Pink House Purchased; Introductions Ensue.
Part 3: Fight In Classroom; Landslide Victory.
Part 4: Cain Doesn't Move; Children Scream.
Part 5: Countries Massacred; Restaurant Warned.
Part 6: Dog In Prison; Keys Lost.
Part 7: Woman Hurt; Ship Sinks.
Part 8: Judgment Questioned; Test Given.
Part 9: Knives Purchased; Masochism Denied.
Part 10: Prowler Exposed; Boyfriend Threatened.
Note: This is the first of two posts!
Azkadellia's Okay!
(With Ambrose and the Cains' help)
Part 11: Azkadellia Dresses Up; Man Faints.
It was six annuals to the day.
Cain had gone to bed with Ambrose as was their normal routine, but around the middling hours of the morning, he had found a pair of sweats and slowly snuck out of bed (tucking Ambrose in with the remainder of the blankets). There were just some nights that he couldn't sleep and he happened to be in the midst of one of them. He didn't bother with a shirt and pulled up the rocking chair he kept to the window to stare at the single moon in the sky and all those obstructed stars and tried to stave off the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him.
Six annuals and he had moved on -- seriously, no less, to someone he could see himself...well, that was for him to know.
And somewhere in the beyond, Adora was. Cain prayed that she was at least at peace and that he wasn't enjoying a happy life while she suffered and a weary sigh was drawn past his lips as he sat there, unable to do much else but stare at the sky with dulled eyes and wonder just what was waiting for him in the future.
He wondered whether at the end of this fifteen-annual journey, he'd be joining her in the great thereafter.
Ambrose didn't even know Cain was out of bed until he rolled onto more bed when it should have been the other man. Even then, it took a long while for him to realize that there was something stranger than usual tonight, and when he finally sat up in bed and caught sight of Cain staring up at the stars.
"It still surprises me every time," Ambrose said, still not entirely awake, let alone sure if Cain even wanted to talk. "One moon, completely different constellations, one sun. They have better telescopes here, though, even if they have less to see."
Cain's shoulders tensed slightly at the voice, not having wanted to wake Ambrose at all and figuring he could sleep through his disappearance. Still, he relaxed when he knew Ambrose just had the best of intentions and he looked back through the moonlit darkness to find Ambrose and look at him as he spoke. "You know we've been together nearly four annuals?" he asked, voice rough and almost bitter.
Ambrose barely restrained a flinch at the tone, how it sounded like this was the talk that would end it all, even after all the mess they'd been through with the kids. He didn't want to deal with this, but if Cain did, that meant they were dealing with it.
"No, I didn't know that," Ambrose said, a hand going into his hair as he turned his face away. "I'm beginning to think keeping track of time really isn't my strong suit."
Cain would have happily taken care of time, because that was his job, to keep care of things. He took a deep sigh and lifted himself from the chair to wander back to the bed and sit down on the edge, half-facing Ambrose. "Adora died six annuals ago. To the day," he admitted wearily. "And I think to myself that after only two annuals, only two, I moved on from my wife because I was so tired of sitting here and watching you with Jane, not knowing how to be alone."
Guilt swarmed over Ambrose, and it showed in the way his shoulders tensed and his head bowed a little. He still felt horrible about how things had ended with Jane, still felt guilty about the fact they hadn't been able to save DG when they might have had the chance.
"You always have Jeb, and you'll always have your memories of Adora," he said as calmly as he could. "I'm not the best timekeeper in either world, but I do know that a lot can happen in two annuals."
Cain glanced over to Ambrose in the dim light of the room and it was easy to see that he was bare, absolutely removed of any masks or pretenses. "How do I get to move on and be happy?" he had to wonder, voice hoarse. "It should have been me in there, too. I was supposed to be in that building that day. Adora never should have been there." He dug one hand into the coverlets, sinking forward heavily. "She doesn't get to see Jeb grow into the fine man he is, she doesn't get to live, she gets nothing. And I get everything."
"Don't you think that's what she'd want you to have?" Ambrose frowned at him, not entirely certain how that particular train of thought had come chugging along for Cain. He shook his head. "None of this should have happened, Cain. Adora shouldn't have died, DG shouldn't be possessed, Az shouldn't have been killed. We just do the best we can with what's left. That's all we can do."
"And somehow, in the midst of all this," he said, the faint hint of reddened eyes about his face proving he was actually being emotional about something for once, "Somehow," he continued, threading a hand through Ambrose's hair and looking at him. "I get you. Adora loved me and I loved her. I just think this is a bit uneven, Ambrose."
Ambrose couldn't do anything but look at him, a strange calm settling over him. "What do you think she'd have done if it was you who'd died? What would you want for her?"
"Well, sweetheart, I have a funny time imagining her here with you," Cain found himself admitting in a strangled tone, suddenly picturing it and being unable to get it out of his head. He had no doubts that Adora could protect Azkadellia far fiercer than he ever could, but the sudden gripping image of Adora in bed with Ambrose and it made him so intensely pleased and distressed at once that he let out a cough of a choked laugh. "Gods," he wheezed out softly.
Ambrose chuckled. "Not exactly what I meant," he said, and very carefully pulled Cain into a soft hug. "She still loves you. Nothing like that can end when people die."
Cain felt himself slowly thaw and detach from his grief as he nearly crushed Ambrose with his returning hug until he could get a hold of himself and detached from the hug, sliding back into bed like none of this had happened. He still did wrap an arm around his waist to keep Ambrose close. "I want to have a ceremony to honor her. Tomorrow," he said, rough and sudden. "I need to. And I want you to be there."
"Of course I'll be there," Ambrose said as calm and caring as he could manage. He knew how to deal with Azkadellia when she was like this, but this was an entirely different situation. Ambrose kissed him softly on the forehead. "Whatever you need to do or want to do, I'll be there."
"I know you will be," Cain said, his voice pained slightly and he closed his eyes at the kiss, cupping Ambrose's cheek and brushing fingers in the curls and leaning in. "Let's just go back to sleep, okay? Let's just pretend this never happened."
Saying 'pretend this never happened' was one of the greatest oxymorons in the world, in Ambrose's opinion, but he simply nodded and shut his eyes. "Whatever you need, Cain."
--
Azkadellia had explained many things to Cain and Ambrose in the time they had been on the Otherside. She had needed them to understand about things like underwear and bras, high school registration, student government, and now she had them sitting down and was already wearing her emerald-green formal dress with a black shawl over her bare shoulders (as the dress was sleeveless) and her hair was pinned up intricately with pearls everywhere to make it dazzle. She'd even gone slightly overboard with nails and makeup and now stood before them in the living room.
Cain was to her left and reclined in the chair and Ambrose sat to her right in yet another reclining chair, fidgeting with something that might have been a terribly dangerous invention -- or possibly a can of fruit.
"It's tradition," she said, in her most regal voice, lifting her chin. "High school students attend this dance at the end of their senior year to mark their accomplishments and endeavor on a path to the future."
"It's a dance," Cain said tersely, directly to Ambrose, "where underage kids drink too much, boys grope girls, and more often than not, I get called in to break some after-party up." He turned his attention back to Azkadellia to offer a pointed look. "It's one of the nights I look forward to the least and you want to be out there with them? I arrest ten to twenty kids every year around this time."
"I have to be there," Azkadellia said simply, as if there was no other option. "People expect to see me and I'm supposed to give a speech, being valedictorian."
"Who are you going with?" Cain asked flatly.
"Friends."
"No boyfriend?"
"None."
"And you expect me and Ambrose to just sit at home while you're surrounded by a whole crowd of people, where strangers might just sneak in, with no weapons on you?" Cain asked dubiously. "I can't go unless you want the school to riot, seeing as the Sheriff at prom might cause issues." He let his gaze loll to the side. "You willing to stay up tonight? Watch over her? Which," he said sharply, "doesn't mean you won't be armed. But it's up to Ambrose. If he goes and watches over you, you've got permission."
Ambrose was tempted to say no simply for safety reasons, but Azkadellia had turned her face straight towards him, eyes all wide and begging as regally as anyone could manage while begging. He let out a breath and nodded to Cain, trying to ignore how much of a bad idea he thought this would be. Her smile was big enough for Ambrose to decide the risk was worth it.
He stood up. "I'll go change into something more decent," Ambrose said, mind still screaming that this was a horrible idea, but if Azkadellia wanted to go and it was expected, they'd have to make some allowances. After all, when they went back to the O.Z. she'd be at royal functions all the time, and they wouldn't be there to guard her at all times.
But then again, by then DG wouldn't be possessed, the Witch would be dead, and the Queen would be back on her throne.
"If Cain says to put an entire arsenal under that skirt, you can miniaturize it." She looked a bit surprised at the idea of that many weapons hanging in what Ambrose thought was far too skimpy a skirt, floor length or not, but nodded as Ambrose walked upstairs to try and find something to wear. He trusted Cain more than himself when it came to weaponry. They each had their own specialties, after all.
Cain watched Ambrose leave for a long moment, absently calling up a 'you look best in that tailored jacket' after him before turning his attention back to Azkadellia, pushing himself up from the chair to open the very bottom drawer of the dining-room cabinet.
Where most people kept silverware in their dining rooms, Cain kept his personal array of weapons (from flea markets, the O.Z., and work) in that drawer and he plucked them out one by one to eye them considerately in the light of the room.
Eventually, he was content with a silver dagger and a strap of velcro to begin with. "This, you wear under the skirt on your thigh," he lectured heavily, placing it in her palm. Azkadellia seemed to understand that she was walking a very precarious edge and Cain might be swayed to the other side at any moment and so she obeyed and clasped fingers tighter around it. He kept rooting through, finding a small black object. "This is mace. You carry this in your purse and you spray the first boy who tries to attack you or grope you. Or look at you. Or offer you a drink."
With those two objects entrusted to her, he kept looking and found a little vial, handing it over. "This goes anywhere you can find. It's chloroform. Just in case. Ambrose will know what to do with it."
And just for luck, he gave her a second dagger.
"And the kitchen sink?" Azkadellia very politely asked, without a hint of sarcasm in the quite sarcastic comment.
"Don't test me," Cain warned. "One word and I'll tell Ambrose about all the sappy love songs boys use as an excuse to feel up girls, not to mention the terrible, terrible food they cater with at these things." He had possibly been to one too many proms already in his time in Baker.
She nodded and dutifully headed upstairs to stuff her dress full of weapons, shoes and blades clicking primly with every step. Ambrose took a moment to stare at her while he was shrugging into the tailored jacket.
Ambrose smiled at her. "I'm surprised there aren't more."
"I'll be safe," Azkadellia said, almost as if she were trying to convince them both. "You've all been teaching me to protect myself since I was little."
"There's always more to learn," Ambrose said lightly, and she flashed him a tiny smile before moving into her bedroom and shutting the door. He was tempted to point out she'd probably have a bit of difficulty defending herself in those shoes and that changing into some good running shoes would be smart, but a considering look at his own dress shoes made him decide that he really didn't want to be a hypocrite.
Ambrose held out two ties to Cain as soon as he was on the first floor. "I haven't had to actually dress up for anything in a while. Gold, blue, or no tie? They're both explosives of course, but I always have the handkerchief on me and that packs a bit more of a punch," he added.
Cain just took the gold tie from Ambrose's hands and gave him a wary look at the fact that his clothes could explode at any moment. "I sincerely hope," he started in a low tone, wrapping the fabric around Ambrose's neck and starting the practiced routine of tying the tie in a square knot, "that you don't sleep in anything explosive. I like all of me where it is currently."
He looked Ambrose up and down and after finishing the tie, he smoothed a palm out over the jacket, adjusting the collar of the shirt and stepping back to take in a look at the bigger picture.
Ambrose couldn't help but smile. "Cain, when's the last time we've had to worry about clothing in bed? I think you're safe."
"You look nice," Cain said, prying the blue-colored explosive tie from his hands and setting it on the tabletop so it could be put away later without incident. And because there was some old adage about a 'kiss for luck', Cain eased in and pressed a light one to Ambrose's cheek, turning and digging through another drawer.
He turned and held a purple carnation in his fingers, twirling it and snapping it at the stem, tucking it into Ambrose's front pocket neatly, arranging it so it wouldn't tip over anytime soon.
His eyes rose at the kiss and surprise boutonniere. Ambrose gently poked at the flower and then looked at Cain, amused. "You really have been to too many proms," he commented. Honestly, Ambrose was beginning to wonder if he had any idea what to even do at a prom - it was far less formal than any court functions, and far more formal than anything he knew as casual. He was actually nervous about the whole thing, but he'd do anything for Azkadellia. Going to a dance wasn't exactly a painful stretch of his loyalty. He let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in. "At least one of us knows what's going on. What should I expect, aside from drunk teenagers?"
Ambrose looked vaguely nervous and Cain wasn't sure what he could do to calm that down. All he did do was begin to talk about it, hands neatening corners and being generally better at tidying Ambrose up (one hand taking slightly too long in his hair). "Lots of clumsy slow-dancing. Terrible food. About four to five drunken displays. Usually some weeping from kids about to be split up, who are also intoxicated and maudlin," he advised and took a step back, finally taking his hands off of Ambrose.
"I'm ready," Azkadellia sounded from the doorway, a jacket draped over her shoulders and a purse held in her hand.
Cain crossed the room to inspect her, checking that yes, she did have the weapons on her and yes, she was carrying the mace and yes, she was the most lethal thing around. Toto seemed to be peering up from the ground and barked twice, as if giving his own doggie-approval.
"I'll be by to pick the both of you up at midnight," Cain indicated. "I'm not working this prom, gave it to one of the others so I'll be able to just bring you home and tuck you in. Azkadellia, no alcohol," he directed. "You're not twenty-one just yet. Ambrose," he said, turning to look at him sharply. "Limit yourself."
Ambrose was almost tempted to be insulted at the thought of ignoring the princess' security for alcohol, but settled for nodding curtly. After all, it sounded like drinking, dancing, and attempted groping was all that went on at proms. He held out an arm for Azkadellia, and her own arm slid right onto his with a small smile, and Ambrose couldn't help but smile back.
"I have no idea how you grew up so fast," he muttered, and she squeezed his arm lightly. Sometimes he couldn't tell if she was an adult or a child, and the question pressed even deeper into his mind with how much she looked like her mother when she was all dolled up like now. "You're meeting friends at the prom?"
Azkadellia nodded. "Karen, Patricia, and Nancy specifically."
Ambrose took a deep breath. "This should be interesting." He twisted to give Cain what hopefully looked like a smile. "I'll be waiting for midnight."
"Have fun," Cain extended the offer to them and it came across mildly pained, like he really would rather be the one there (and with a gun, no less). But they had made their arrangements and Cain let them leave and headed off to check on Jeb with Toto at his side.
Azkadellia was keeping an eye on the space before her and on Ambrose as well, squeezing his arm just slightly. "Ambrose," she began, her voice hardly hesitant and no parts wary. She just sounded like she was searching for something. "Are you proud of me?"
It seemed the theme lately. With everyone matriculating, parents were proud and gifts were given and graduation was on the horizon. It was just one more reminder that her own parents were anything but normal and that little gnat in her ear kept buzzing these days, the one that reminded her that both Ambrose and Cain were there on business to protect her and her real parents were somewhere so very far away.
Ambrose smiled at her. It was a soft, caring smile that said almost every word he could ever speak about the subject, but he spoke anyway. "Do you know how amazing you are? You make me proud of you every moment of every day." His head tilted to the side slightly as they headed for the door. "Why?"
She could hear the affection in his voice, adoration and pride mixed together expertly. It was reassuring, but the worries were still there. Asking whether he loved her or not wasn't a subject she was willing to breach, considering the question would more than likely open up yet another floodgate of worries.
"You didn't have to say yes," Azkadellia said, the statement sounding like an answer instead of yet another question.
Ambrose laughed. "I don't have to do a lot of things, Az." Her brow furrowed slightly. It was enough for Ambrose to notice, though. "I said yes because you wanted to go. Protecting you is important, but so is your happiness."
Azkadellia kept her gaze down upon her feet, watching the sidewalk pass crack by crack as they went. It wasn't a very long walk to the school and Azkadellia had the feeling Cain was only coming to pick them up because he suspected that one of them might indulge in something alcoholic (even if it was only on accident as she had heard rumblings of someone wishing to spike the punch).
She felt strange. She felt like she was grown up and too young all at once and the notion of her becoming an adult, a woman was creeping into her consciousness slowly, but just barely. "Will you dance with me at least once, then?" she couldn't help but ask with a broad and genuine smile. "I would hate to think all our lessons were for nothing."
A surprised noise escaped as he looked at her. "You wouldn't be embarrassed? All your friends will be there, after all, and I'm-"
"Age doesn't matter when you're dancing, only skill and grace do," she said smoothly. "I'd be more worried about you disgracing everyone at the dance. I've never seen anyone dance quite like you do."
Ambrose wasn't entirely sure if that was a compliment or not, considering how gentle Azkadellia could make those double-edged comments of hers nowadays, but he smiled and nodded anyway. "I'd be honored. And don't forget you'd be showing them all up too."
Azkadellia's posture straightened just slightly as she squeezed Ambrose's hand just slightly tighter. She looked regal from afar and up close, it was stunning. "I know," she said simply, with absolutely no confidence lacking and she dug out her ticket from her purse and smiled plainly for Ambrose to see before turning on a charming and powerful smile for all her friends as she approached.
One of them in particular kept her eyes on Ambrose and slowly slid away from the group of taffeta-bedecked girls with their curls of hair and heavily-laden makeup.
"Are you Az's date?" she asked, eyes roaming him up and down.
Ambrose stared at her for a long while. She had green eyes, brown hair, and a black dress that was much less ornate than the others on. "...I'm her uncle," he finally managed to say, still slightly horrified at even the thought of dating Azkadellia. She was practically his daughter, and there was Cain to consider and the idea had actually managed to shake him slightly. He'd known coming to prom would be a bad idea. "Who are you?"
The girl held out a hand, and Ambrose managed to shake it well enough. "I'm Karen," she said simply.
The catalogue stuffed inside his brain finally clicked onto her. One of Azkadellia's friends, if not her best one. "I haven't seen you since you were both in middle school," Ambrose said, eyes wide.
"Children do grow up," Azkadellia said, finally close enough to him that he didn't feel like he needed to tug her back just in case something happened. She smiled at Karen. "You look lovely."
Karen smiled back, a slight blush on her cheeks. Ambrose remembered that she'd always been a bit shy, but the way she'd asked if he was her date...well. That hadn't seemed very shy. After Karen got out a short thank you she hurried inside of the school.
Azkadellia smiled at him. "Ready to go?"
He wanted to say 'not really,' but Azkadellia wanted this, so he smiled back and walked inside with her.
The gym had been turned into the best of attempts at an actual different location, but it was still a gym beneath it all. The wood floors squeaked at the men's shoes and the streamers and lights tried to take away from the look of being a place where normally basketball drills and soccer practices were run.
Azkadellia turned to regard Ambrose and offered a hand to him, almost as if this were court and not just a school setting. "You don't have to stay with me the whole night," she quietly assured him. "Cain's made sure I could fight a whole battle with the amount of weaponry on me. If you want to hover, please don't feel obligated to endure our silly talk."
With that, she drifted somewhat from him to Karen's side and in the light of the gym, it was hard to see the blush on Karen's cheeks, but it was there.
He couldn't help a slight smile, even though he knew there was a huge chance that the situation wouldn't end very well.
"Well, what do you think?" An excited voice interrupted his thoughts. Ambrose had to take a moment to look at the fluffed-up blonde before she registered as Nancy. "I was on the decorations committee. Isn't it great?"
"It's lovely," he said, with all the enthusiasm he could really muster for the topic. "I particularly like the..." Ambrose flailed for a topic. "The unique use as the bleachers for makeshift waterfalls with the multicolored blue streamers. It adds a touch of...of drama." Drama came out a bit pinched and more like a question, but Nancy was looking at him with wide, happy eyes.
"That's my favorite part too," she gasped.
"Wow," Ambrose echoed, not entirely certain why Azkadellia was so fond of the girl. Maybe she was only like this when it came to prom decorations. Either way, this was a situation he decided had called for an immediate escape-and-evade. "I have to go catch up with my niece now."
Nancy was quicker than him (being that she had the benefits of a younger age) and hurriedly stepped in front of Ambrose and stared up at him as the music began to filter in from one song to the next. "Oh, she's busy getting ready for her speech. She told me!" she assured hurriedly. "Would you like to dance?" she invited. "We can talk some more about the decorations. Or anything you like!" she hurried to add.
There was something panicky in those blue eyes of hers and it might have been the best warning sign Ambrose had to run.
It was only pushing nine PM and there were hours to go before Cain would even remotely be in the area to attend. Around them, boys were crashing drunkenly into the walls and announcing that it was time to 'hit that!' in many cases. In some corners were the weeping girls, attended to by their closest friends. Azkadellia was by the stage with Karen and sheaths of paper, studying them and scratching at them in some last-moment attempts to sort out speech-errors.
"Well?" Nancy asked once more. "Just a dance? Or maybe two until we get to the speeches and the presentations?"
Which were, she neglected to add, at the very end of prom.
Ambrose wasn't quite sure what to do. At an informal dance he could have just said 'no' and walked off, but at court back in the O.Z. that was the equivalent of slapping someone in the face. Not that he'd ever really been asked to dance very often, of course, but he knew the rules just like everyone else did.
"I'm not sure you'd want to dance with me," Ambrose said politely, trying to find some way to dodge dancing without insulting her. "I'm...I'm from Iceland, you see, and we might have very different ways of dancing-"
"Ooooh!" Nancy said, and the grin that spread across her face told him that he'd definitely chosen the wrong argument. "Then I can teach you! Come on!"
Ambrose couldn't even get out a protest before Nancy had latched onto one of his arms and was dragging him onto the floor, actually making him stumble. Ambrose couldn't even remember the last time he'd stumbled. But any chance of trying to remember was immediately stopped by his hands being moved straight onto her hips.
He immediately put his hands up like he was under arrest, gaping at her. Nancy actually giggled, full on tee-hees and all. "I'm teaching you how we dance here in America! Don't worry, you won't get in trouble for touching me. It's a free country!"
The professor in him was just about ready to go off on how no, it wasn't entirely free, but then she'd grabbed him again. He frowned at her. "One dance."
One dance somehow managed to become about seven because every time Ambrose tried to escape, Nancy would find a new excuse for him to stay, ranging from 'oh, please, just please? I don't want Tim to think no one wants to dance with me' to 'As the decoration committee, I need to appear engaged in the event' to the inevitable 'I can show you another type of dance'.
It was at the cusp of dance number eight that the doors to the gym opened quietly and Cain entered in a simple dress-shirt and pair of pants, blending in with the crowd (as was probably his intention).
The only respite Ambrose received from the dancing was the brief amount of time that Azkadellia spent reciting her well-practiced, eloquent, beautiful speech. But it was a brief one at that, for Azkadellia had gone into her speech not wanting to go on and on, but to brief and memorable.
As the applause ended, he narrowly avoided Nancy's lunge for his arm, heading straight for Azkadellia and Karen and, hopefully, salvation. "Ambrose-" Nancy began, but then Azkadellia was there, smiling at him and very gently taking his arm.
"I hope you've been treating my uncle well," she said pleasantly. "He's never been particularly fond of these sort of events."
"What does he prefer, then?" Nancy asked, sounding about ready to actually start an argument with Azkadellia, which wasn't a particularly intelligent decision to make. From the way Azkadellia's lips pressed together just a bit more, Ambrose knew it wouldn't be a pretty scene, so he carefully put Azkadellia's hand in his own.
"I believe you asked for a dance," he said simply, pulling Az away gently enough that it almost looked like she wasn't close to snapping at her friend.
"An Icelandian dance?" Nancy asked, and to Ambrose's surprise Karen actually smacked her on her bare shoulder.
"It's Icelandic, now go ask Tim to dance," she said. Looking chastised, she walked off, and Karen shook her head, turning to Azkadellia. "I know you had to pick one of them, but why'd you pick her?"
"Had to pick one of them?" Ambrose repeated, confused and slightly intrigued.
"She was nicer in middle school," Azkadellia said simply, and finally led Ambrose onto the dance floor.
Azkadellia smoothed her hair from her dress and pushed it back, self-consciously checking her eyeliner as she slid a hand to the small of Ambrose's back and eased in, watching both her footwork and her posture as she looked just over Ambrose's shoulder in Cain's direction and didn't so much as blink as he nodded to her.
He was there to watch her, but now was her time to dance with Ambrose.
"I suppose this isn't the place to thank you for everything you've done for me, but I want to," Azkadellia said, staring up at him as they moved with such speed and elegance that other dancers would have been put to shame by even an eighth of what they were doing. "I know we say you're my uncle, but the truth is that you're far more like a father to me, Ambrose."
The only thing that kept Ambrose from freezing at the words was the fact that dancing was deep in his bones, deep enough that he could stare at her without missing a step. Azkadellia had learned every move from him, and that meant they didn't miss a single twist.
Ambrose smiled at her brilliantly, and she seemed to take that as enough of an answer, beaming back at him in one of the least composed smiles he'd seen on her face in a very, very long time.
He couldn't decide if it was love or guilt that had his throat closing tight enough that he couldn't say a word, because he wasn't her father, wasn't even her uncle, and he didn't have a single claim to her, no matter how much he wanted one. Ambrose dipped her, and she came back up still smiling.
"What's that make Cain, then?" Ambrose didn't know where he'd gotten the strength to speak, but it made Azkadellia laugh lightly and shake her head in that 'you're so silly sometimes' move she'd learned over the years. He spun her out and then back in, and finally managed to clear his throat. She wasn't his daughter, but that didn't mean he didn't wish she was sometimes, didn't mean he didn't love her like one. "I-"
"Thank you for the dance," she said politely, separating with a slightly more awkward than usual curtsy thanks to all the weaponry she was wearing. Before Ambrose was even out of his slight bow, she was walking back towards a softly-smiling Karen.
Next post (on this here journal).