A/N: So, having a lack of inspiration for, well, anything recently, my friend helped me out by giving me an idea for a story. My bounding off word is 'bucket' and this is the result! Have fun reading! :)
Disclaimer: Jonathan Larson owns the background and my friend owns the plot.
Angel sat on the corner of Avenues A and B, pounding out a new beat on her pickle tub. On any normal day, she would be loving the feeling that she gets while playing, but something was off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but after about twenty minutes, she decided to pack up and head home.
"Collins?" she called through their apartment. She set her bucket on the shabby kitchen table. "I'm home!" There was no response. "Collins?" she tried again, now looking through the rooms. Not in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or even the bathroom. It wasn't like him to leave without a note or some type of notice. Angel was starting to worry. "Collins, baby, if you're hiding and are going to scare me, I'm leaving you!" she yelled one last time. Nothing happened. That one usually works, she thought. He's probably at work still. She checked the clock. It was four, so she assumed that that's where he was. Time to call Mimi!
Angel skipped to the phone and dialed her best friend's number. No answer. Weird. She didn't go to work until 8 that night. She tried the loft. Not even the jobless Roger answered.
"What the hell is going on?" she mumbled to herself.
She shook it off. Mimi and Roger were probably doing uninterruptable things that she didn't want to think about. Angel, then, dialed the number for her favorite diva. Once again, no one picked up.
"Is it 'abandon Angel' day or something?"
She shrugged it off as paranoia and decided a good shower is what she needed. While she belted out a few songs from A Chorus Line, Angel could've sworn she heard the front door open and close, but with the noise from the water and how loud she had been singing, she couldn't be sure. She just attributed it to her strawberry shampoo falling.
After drying off and slipping into Collins' old MIT zip up hoodie and a pair of her sweats, Angel went to the kitchen to grab something for dinner. That's when she noticed her pickle tub was gone. Where it used to sit, was a note. It read 'Dress up nicely and meet me in the middle of Central Park at six.' She checked it over and over. There was no name and she couldn't place the handwriting. But loving the suspense, Angel checked the clock. It was already 5:15. How could she take that long of a shower! She quickly ran to the bedroom and changed from her sweats into a red Breakfast at Tiffany's style dress she had made just the week before at Mimi's request. She threw on her usual black wig and a pair of strappy black shoes.
Angel put a little foundation and blush, with a purple-brown smoky eye shadow and a clear lip gloss to balance it out. She grabbed a black clutch purse and some cash for a cab before dashing out of the apartment and into the nearest taxi.
"Central Park, please," she requested. During the drive there, Angel's mind was buzzing on what could be going on. She knew it'd be Collins that she was going to meet, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was. Her birthday wasn't for another few months, neither was his, and they're anniversary wasn't until Christmas. What was today!
Before she knew it, Angel was at Central Park. She paid the driver the ridiculous amount that it cost to get there from the East Village. She took the twists and turns of the park until she reached the middle.
She gasped at was laid out before her.
In the grass sat a huge castle shaped sculpture made entirely of pickle tubs. It could easily fit her and all her friends inside. There was an opening in the middle where Roger and Mimi stood, all in black. Along the sides of the building were Maureen, Joanne, and Mark. They were in black too. Everyone had a creepy smile on that you would see on a doll or a child with a secret.
"Guys, what the heck is all this?" Angel asked as she approached. "Is this where you all were today?"
"Good evening, Ms. Schunard," Roger greeted. "Your table awaits."
"Oh-kay," she said. Turning to Mimi she asked, "Can you please tell me what's going on?"
Her best friend shook her head and just pointed inside. "You'll love it though. I promise."
Deciding that everyone was crazy, she went inside. There were at least one hundred candles, all lit and balanced on the pickle tubs along the walls. And there Collins stood in a suit, looking as handsome as she had ever seen him.
"Collins, I think you took the words 'you'll be my queen' way too literally. What is all this?" Angel asked. That's when she noticed the small table in the center with a bucket of ice and cheap champagne and two plates of Chinese food.
"I just felt like doing something nice today," he shrugged. "Now, come sit down."
"Is this so nice that you had to employ our friends?" she giggled, sitting down anyway.
"They all owed me a favor," he explained. He paused. "Except Joanne. Now I owe her a favor."
Angel waved her hand. "That's nothing like owing Maureen."
Collins chuckled while pouring them each a glass of the weak alcohol. He raised his glass.
"What are we toasting to?" Angel asked.
He thought for a moment. "Happy Tuesday."
She smiled and tapped her glass with his. "Happy Tuesday."
A/N: Now wasn't that fluffy? I thought it turned out cute. I'd love a review or two please! :D And you can once again thank my friend for giving me the beginning idea.