Image Author's Note: Hey look, everybody! It's a rentfic! Original character alert. PLEASE r/r. My first posted fic. I want all sorts of reviews--questions, comments, criticism, undying praise, eternal condemnation, death threats, marriage proposals....

Chapter One: Who's This?

Mark woke to faint giggles. Was that...was that Collins? Who was with him?

He got out of bed and crept to the door of his room, open. Collins crept by it to an empty den, followed by a tall, slim young man with dark hair. Mark grinned and went back to bed. 18 months after Angel's death. Collins had bounced back.

In the morning, Mark wandered in to the kitchen to find Collins and the dark-haired man sitting at the table staring at each other over coffee.

"Hi," he said, and poured a cup for himself. When Roger found his way in, he did a double take.

"Whoa, who're you?" Collins winked at the man opposite him.

"This is Julian. Been seeing him for a while. Brought him home last night."

"Didn't you hear?" Mark quipped. "Woke *me up." Julian raised his eyebrows and looked alarmed and Collins laughed.

"Forgot to warn you," he said between chuckles. "One of my roommates is a light...a very light sleeper." "We haven't been properly introduced," Mark said. "I'm Mark. The guy standing gaping over there's Roger." Julian smiled shyly.

"He knows," Collins said. "Told him all about you, I did." Then Mimi popped her head in the door.

"Can I borrow Roger?...hey! Collins! Who's this! Introduce me!"

"Julian, this is Mimi. Mimi, this is Julian." Collins bent forward and took Julian's hand. Mimi grabbed Roger and ducked out the door. Mark's laughter followed them.

Later that day, Mark was fiddling with some light angles and Roger, having come back from wherever Mimi'd spirited him away to, was tuning his guitar. It wasn't long before they heard bluesy strains from a string instrument creeping out from another room.

"Whoa," Roger murmured, when the skill of the performer became apparent. He and Mark precipitated themselves into the spare room.

Julian, clad in black, had a fiddle tucked beneath his chin. When he saw he had an audience, an audience with a *camera*, no less, he blushed and hurriedly put away the instrument, hiding his face in his hands.

"He's shy," came Collins' voice from the doorway. "But he's very good. Hey Julian, show them your juggling!"

Julian picked up a few small objects off the table beside him, and fingered them. Then he looked up and once again saw the camera. He pointed one long, white finger at Mark, and said, in a voice almost inaudible,

"Is that thing on?"

"It's always on," Mark murmured, bringing it up to his eyes.

"You'll get used to it," Collins assured Julian. "Just ignore him. That's just how he is. He hides in it." Mark winced. "It's his work. It's how he is. You'll get used to it," Collins repeated. Julian nodded and began tossing the objects in the air. Soon he had about eight of them spinning in the air, and then he began to move. He performed and intricate dance with the flying objects, moving around Collins and Mark and Roger. Enjoying himself. Mark stared through his lens at the remarkable man before him, and knew he had found something special.

Note: Wow--it's not angsty! Not yet, anyway. We'll see.