Angel Dumott-Schunard considered himself a cheerful man, unless of course she was considering herself a cheerful woman. He had reason to be, too. He had loving friends, he liked living in New York City, and he was content with the way people treated him. Really, what was there to be upset about?
Still, even he had issues with someone knocking on his door at three o'clock in the morning on a Saturday when he had only gotten two hours of alcohol-induced sleep. Moaning pitifully, he asked Collins to pretty please get the door, sugar-pie honey-darling.
"No."
Angel swore at him for a full minute in Spanish, and continued cursing under his breath as he got up. With a sigh, he put on a semblance of a smile and greeted the unwelcome guest.
"Can I help you?" he yawned.
For a second, the man just stared. He was probably fifty or sixty, black, with graying hair and a neat moustache, and he stood ramrod-straight. Angel could already tell that this man was his opposite--he was wearing a prim suit like a lawyer, way too expensive for any Alphabet City resident, while Angel's pajamas were pink plaid pants and a tee-shirt. The visitor eyed the clothes warily.
"Look, honey, it's practically midnight. You want to complain about what I'm wearing, come back later."
"I'm sorry, I must have the wrong address," he stuttered. "I'm looking for Thomas Collins; do you know where I could find him?"
"Sure, he's here. Come in--I'll see if I can wake him up."
Mysterious Lawyer Man obeyed, following Angel into the apartment and sitting on the armchair somewhat reluctantly. Angel entered the tiny bedroom to begin the arduous task of waking his sleeping ass of a boyfriend who had people visiting him way too early in the morning.
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he crooned sweetly. "You've got a visitor." Collins groaned and Angel dropped the lovable act, throwing a shoe at his one true love. "Come on, up and at 'em. He looks sort of like a lawyer. What did you do this time?"
"Nothing," Collins mumbled. He pushed himself up, blinking blearily. "Do I have to?" he asked, begging with those cute crinkly eyes of his. Angel sighed. He was a sucker for those eyes.
"Yes, mi rey, you do. Get up, and I'll make some tea. See how much I love you?" He threw up his hands dramatically and stalked from the room.
"Te amo tambien, mi reina!" Collins called happily. MLM looked confused. He probably didn't speak Spanish. Oh well. (I love you to, my queen.)
"He'll be right out," Angel assured him with a friendly smile. "Would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water?"
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to bother--"
"It's no problem. I was going to make some tea anyway."
"Thank you," MLM said stiffly, after a slight pause.
Angel hummed to himself as he made the tea, picking out three random mugs. He wondered why MLM seemed so uncomfortable. Maybe he had caught sight of the sewing machine in the corner of the living room and was wondering why two men would be working on a pink skirt made of, for the most part, sequins and lace. Or perhaps Angel had left the purple thong out in the open again. (Collins, being the jokester that he was, thought gag gifts were sexy for some un-understandable reason.) It was even possible that MLM had finally noticed that it was a one-bedroom apartment.
"So, um, you're Tom's roommate?" the man called out politely.
Then again, maybe not.
Wickedly, Angel poured hot water into the mugs and decided to play a little game called 'See How Long it Takes for Mysterious Lawyer Man to Realize That Collins and Angel are Gayer than a Medieval French Feast.' This was going to be great.
"Yeah," he answered affirmatively as he carried the cups into the living room, sashaying just a little bit more than usual. "Since last Christmas."
"Hm." Angel placed the cup in front of him, and MLM took the tea bag out immediately. Weak tea means a weak mind, as Abuela used to say.
"You want cream or sugar, honey?" Angel asked cheerfully, refusing to acknowledge the awkwardness.
"No, thank you." Bitter tea means a bitter life, as Abuela also used to say.
Still, he returned to the kitchen to get Collins some sugar. He liked tea strong and sweet, while Angel preferred it creamy and sugary as hell. He hummed to himself as he re-entered and then re-exited the kitchen, then decided it wouldn't work. MLM didn't look like the theater guy, so he probably wouldn't recognize any of the many gay songs broke screenwriters came up with. Which was really too bad, because some of them were really funny, like that one about having a "girlfriend" who "lived in Canada."
Just as Angel was heading back to the living room, Collins finally emerged. Angel pointed to his cup and he nodded thanks, plopping down on the couch and smiling pleasantly. "Hi, I'm sorry I took--" He and MLM froze at the same second, and Angel sank sinuously next to Collins, curious. He reached for his cup of tea, wondering what would happen next. "Uh--Dad?"
"It's nice to see you, Tom."
Angel choked on his tea.
"¿Qué? ¿Su padre?" he asked, voice rising an octave higher in surprise. (What? Your father?) Nobody answered, so he looked quickly at Collins, then at MLM, then back at Collins, and then back at MLM. Holy shit, there was resemblance. "Ay mi dios," he muttered, falling back onto the couch. His poor heart wasn't up to surprises like these.
"Yeah, um, you too. So, its been… awhile. What brings you to New York?" Collins asked, his voice stilted. He sounded so awkward.
"Business. My flight just got in, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello."
"Oh."
"Your grandmother said you would be here."
"You talked to her?"
"Briefly."
"Good." Long pause. "So I guess you already have a hotel, huh?"
"Yes. The company booked one."
"Good. Just, you know, making sure." Another long pause. Angel almost yawned, but that would be rude. Collins tried to gain a few seconds by taking a huge gulp of tea, looking at Angel with pleading eyes. Angel shrugged.
"¿Qué quisieras que hiciera? No me has dicho cualquier cosa sobre él," he muttered, serenely sipping his own tea. (What do you want me to do? You haven't told me anything about him.)
"I'm engaged," MLM (real name still a mystery) said suddenly.
"Oh. That's--um, congratulations."
"Thank you. My fiancee and her son are in town, too. I'm sure they would like it if you could join us for lunch tomorrow."
"Thanks," Collins said, his thoughts whirling in his head. He needed a way out, now. "But actually I had plans with some friends already, I think…" Angel gave him a look. Not just a look. Not a you-know-better-than-that look. No, my friend, this was a don't-even-think-about-it-or-no-sex-for-a-really-long-time look, and there was no way he could deny that. "But I have plans with them every day, so, um, sure, I guess."
"Excellent." More pausing.
Just then, and evil thought popped into Collins' head. He was such a genius.
"Do you think it would be all right if my girlfriend came too? I'm sure she'd love to meet everybody, and I sort of promised we would spend some time together this weekend."
Angel choked again.
"That would be nice. So, I suppose we'll meet you there at noon."
"Sure. Where?"
"Do you know the Paramount Hotel on West 46th Street?"
"Yes."
"It's across from there. I can't remember the name."
"I know where it is."
"Good."
"So…"
MLM cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose I should be going now."
"Okay."
"I'm sorry for interrupting so late."
"It's fine."
"Goodbye, Tom."
"Bye, Dad."
Without further ado, MLM stood and let himself out. Angel noticed that he hadn't take a single sip of his tea. No tea in your belly means no love in your heart, as Abuela used to say. Hm, Angel thought. Maybe Abuela is a little too superstitious. Or maybe she was right, and tea really was the answer to everything. Oh wait, there was a more important thing to discuss right now.
"What the hell was that?" he burst out.
"I think I just agreed to have you meet my dad."
"Yeah, I got that part. Why did he show up at three AM? And why didn't you recognize him at first? And why did he have to call your grandma to get your address? And why did he not guess that we were dating when there's only one bedroom? And-- and-- and why was he wearing a grey tie?" Angel spluttered. "Who wears a tie on a plane, let alone a grey one? Oh, and why was he on a plane? And--"
Collins decided to shut Angel up in the nicest way possible. A sweet kiss turned into a deep kiss, which turned into a make-out session, which had turned into a groping session before Angel remembered he had questions.
"Hey! No fair!" he whined.
"Oops. Sorry, I was going to answer but I got distracted," Collins admitted. "Sit over there, I can't think straight around you."
"Too bad," Angel teased, settling into his lap. "You're comfy. Just don't get a boner, 'cause that's not too comfy. So, tell me."
"My parents got divorced when I was, I dunno, like six or something, and my dad moved to Connecticut so my mom got full custody. I lived with him for a month every summer and visited for New Year's until I was sixteen, but then he moved to England or France or something and we totally lost touch. And, um, my grandmother moved in with Mom and I after the divorce and we keep in touch so he'd probably rather call her than my mom to find me." He struggled to remember everything Angel had asked about. "He didn't notice we were gay because he kind of does that thing where if he doesn't totally understand or accept something he just skates over it, you know?"
"I know," Angel grimaced.
"Yeah. And he wears grey ties on planes because… because he's the chief financial officer for some big real estate company and that's what they do, they wear ties and suits and stuff."
"Oh. So he's not a lawyer?"
"No."
"I've been calling him Mysterious Lawyer Man in my head."
Collins smiled fondly. That was Angel for ya. "His name is Joseph Bawl. He's neat and orderly and rich and polite and oh God, why are you making me go?"
"Why are you making me go?"
"Because you were making me go!"
"That is so childish, Thomas," Angel huffed, crossing his arms and sticking up his nose.
"Because if you're there it makes everything so much better," Collins corrected hastily. "And because you're sweet and sexy and beautiful and unbelievably gorgeous, so I want to spend every single second of every minute of every hour of… etc, etc, etc, because I love you and I can't stand to be apart from you, babygirl."
Angel pondered this for a second, and twisted around in Collins' lap, pressing his lips to his jaw. "Good enough," he muttered. "Go ahead and get that boner, babe, we might as well do something since we're both up at this ungodly hour, hm?"
"Angel, I love the way you think," Collins grinned. Angel smirked.
"I do too, honey. I do too."
Hiya, peeps. This is the first chaptered fic I've done since leaving the Ghost Hunt fandom so, so very long ago, so please don't get impatient if it takes a little while to update. Reviews are the platforms to my Angel.