A/N: Ahh a plot that has been done so many times! Anyway, here's yet another Angel and Collins meeting cute fluffy story that will make you turn into a pile of Angel/Collins goo. :)
Disclaimer: -le sigh- I own so many RENT things, but the actual thing is not part of that collection, sadly. :(
"Well, this is my humble abode," Angel said as he opened the door to his apartment. He allowed the man, whom he had met only a minute ago, to shuffle in before locking it back up. He threw his jacket and bucket with his drumsticks into the nearest closet before awkwardly turning back to the stranger named Tom Collins. Angel helped him sit down on the couch before saying, "It's not much but I call it home."
Collins looked around. "I think it's really nice. You should see the place I was living in while at MIT. That rat hole was one of the reasons I was glad they fired me."
Angel excused himself for a moment to go get band-aids and mercurochrome. When he came back he asked "What happened that got you fired?"
Collins looked like he might have been blushing but it was dark and Angel wasn't sure. "Well…uh…I kind of programmed some shit and they got really mad. Then they found out that I was gay and had AIDS. After that it was BAM!" He clapped to exaggerate his point which he regretted when the almost closed cuts split back open. Angel took to cleaning them gently.
"Thanks. Anyway after that, I was axed. It kind of sucked, but I'm over it now. I'm reapplying to NYU." He watched Angel clean his knee now. He couldn't help but feel a surge of something he couldn't identify whenever Angel blew on his knee to make the antiseptic dry. "So what's your story?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, innocently.
"Well, you told me that your teen years were rough. Care to elaborate?"
"Um, sure," he said. Angel quickly pressed on the Hello Kitty band-aid to minimize the pain for Collins. He threw the wrappers away while he thought about how to phrase his story.
He sat down next to Collins on the couch, Indian style. "Well, I grew up in Spanish Harlem, which was no place for a gay drag queen to live, but I survived. After graduation I moved out here with my friend Mimi and made a living here as a street drummer and a few other jobs that I don't want to talk about. Honestly, that's my life."
Collins pondered that for a moment before inspecting his wounds. They were flawlessly clean. "You did a great job on bandaging me up."
"Like I said; being a drag queen in Spanish Harlem, you pick up on a few things."
"Right," Collins said. An awkward silence lapsed over them. The teacher soon felt a few fingers graze his.
Angel looked away, blushing and thanking God that it was dark so that Collins couldn't see his cherry red face.
"Hey, Angel?"
He turned back at the sound of his name, expecting an excuse like, he wasn't ready for a relationship or they didn't even know each other but instead he felt fingers lace in between his.
Collins looked down at their joined hands, tracing a random pattern on the Latino's hand. "You're going to tell me that I'm crazy, but I think I really like you. I know we only met an hour ago, but I felt this connection with you and when you were cleaning me up I felt, like, electricity going through me and I'm sure you don't feel the same but--"
Angel pressed a gentle kiss on Collins' split lips, stopping the babbling.
When they parted, the drag queen gently stroked the anarchists lip while murmuring "You know, if I start something with you, I'm not going to want it to stop."
Collins smiled. "What's stopping you?" He leaned in and kissed him again.
Angel rested his head on Collins's chest after they broke apart. He internally cursed at himself for he knew that he had just fallen in love.
A/N: Cute? Overdone? Whatever? Yeah I just felt like writing that and now I'm one muy contento gato. (Yes, I realize that means very happy cat!) Anyway, review and receive cookies made by Angel! Well, not really, but virtual cookies made by Angel! :D