Fifteen minutes, two angry drivers, and a heart attack later, the couple was bursting into laughter outside the Broadway Steakhouse.

"There is no way that speed was legal!" Angel exclaimed, pretending to be outraged. "That jackass just took another ten years off my life expectancy. Damn him."

Collins chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they entered the restaurant. "Don't worry, Ang, I'm sure you'll be fine. If we survive this, of course."

"I'm more worried for you than me. This is going to be so awkward."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I haven't even gotten a Christmas card from the man in half a decade and suddenly we're family. I wonder what my new brother is going to be like." Relatives, ew.

Collins told the stuffy old host his name, and they were led to a table in the corner. A few startled eyes followed them as they walked past; every man in the room was wearing a tie, and every woman was mature, respectable, and biologically female. Angel and Collins exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Joseph--wearing a green tie today, how exciting--was sitting next to his fiancée, a blonde woman in her early forties. Angel had to wrinkle her nose at the woman's shirt; it was baby blue. There was no other color she despised as much as baby blue… except maybe beige. The woman's ankle-length skirt was beige.

Collins nearly groaned aloud when he caught sight of his new stepbrother. He was, at most, ten years old, wearing khakis, a polo shirt, and a pout. Sympathetic, Angel reached up to squeeze the hand draped over her shoulder.

"It's one afternoon, honey, it won't kill you."

"That's what you think," he muttered, putting on a half-hearted smile as his father stood.

"It's good to see you again, Tom," Joseph said, reaching to shake his son's hand. His fiancée stood and extended hers as well. "This is Jennifer Haywood, my fiancée, and her son, Blake."

In a startling imitation of the adults, Blake jumped up and stuck out a hand. Collins shook, and Angel became officially unnerved.

"Nice to meet you. This is my, um, girlfriend--"

"Hi. I'm Angel," she introduced herself cheerfully, bouncing into a chair. None of this official shake-n-bake stuff for her, thank you very much. There was a few seconds of awkward silence as City Slums and Country Estate observed each other--CS trying to look pleasantly oblivious and CE trying not to gape.

Finally Jennifer cleared her throat and sat down gracefully. She placed her napkin primly in her lap, folded hands covering it neatly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure," she trilled softly. "Joseph has told me so much about you, Tom."

Collins doubted it, but he smiled politely. "Oh? I wish I could say the same. So is this your first time in New York?"

"Oh no, I visited once when I was a girl, but the city's changed so much since then." She paused as the waiter appeared to take their drink orders. Jennifer and Joseph both ordered white wine. Boring. Collins and Angel grimaced at the list of beers--all imported, ugh--and took a wild chance on water. Even that was full of snooty minerals and shit, but the only other option was Coke/Diet Coke, or, as Maureen liked to call it, the Snob of All Sodas.

Blake got sparkling grape juice. Seriously.

"How long have you lived here?" Jennifer asked.

"I've been bouncing back and forth for maybe… six years? Yeah, five or six. New York and I have a bit of a love-hate relationship," he grinned. CE smiled politely.

"That just means you're wishy-washy," Angel teased, shamelessly forcing herself into the conversation. "I moved here when I was fourteen and haven't left city limits once. Well, maybe once," she amended thoughtfully. "But not for very long, just a quick visit to see my parents."

This was, of course, a perfect leading statement, but nobody took advantage of it and Jennifer fell silent. Apparently, talking to her fiancé's estranged scruffy-looking son was one thing, but her fiancé's estranged scruffy-looking son's gender-bending lover was another thing entirely.

Everybody stared at each other for a moment, then took the opportunity to study the menu. Collins felt his heart sink as he searched in vain for tofu. Broiled steak, steak on the grill, steak and alfredo, steak burger, steak and vegetable soup. Even the salad was full of steak. It was a heart attack waiting to happen.

"¡Todo has carne!" Angel muttered. (There's so much meat!)

"Sé," Collins sighed. (I know.) He set the menu aside for the moment and tried to make conversation. "What do you do for a living, Jennifer?" he asked, grabbing a subject out of thin air. Even if it was a boring one.

"She's a stay at home mom," her son answered immediately. "What do you do?" He sounded almost accusing, like he expected the answer to be 'Sell drugs to small children' or 'Pick up dog crap in the park,' or 'Nothing.' Collins immediately disliked the kid, and pondered his answer for a second. 'Angel' would probably not get the best reaction, so he decided to actually answer the question straight.

"I'm a professor at New York University."

For the first time, Joseph woke up and took interest in the conversation. "Really? What subject?"

"Philosophy. Mostly introductory stuff, but I also teach an advanced existentialism course and the application of philosophy in liberal arts."

Angel smiled to herself, pleased by their stunned faces. This was probably the only subject where she was guaranteed, without a doubt, 100% smarter than the average individual. Over the summer, she had started asking Collins to teach her about philosophy--mostly because everybody else was fighting so they couldn't visit their friends without getting in the middle of it, and she had nothing better to do. Thankfully, he let her talk about the assignments instead of writing essays, and half of the lectures took place over ice cream or in bed on a lazy afternoon, so it was fun. Sometimes he tested lesson plans out on her, and she now understood almost everything about existentialism and the liberal arts. For a lunatic, that Nietzsche guy was pretty smart.

"That sounds useless," Blake remarked, gulping his sparkling grape juice. Collins twitched, and Angel resisted the urge to duck for cover.

"It is not useless. I teach people how to think, how to perceive their surroundings and understand the very meaning of their existence. Philosophy shapes the foundation of art and the media, which has a direct influence on the formation of society. If society acted more with rational thought and less with their instincts or petty jealousies, then racism, sexism, and homophobia would no longer be issues in the modern-day world. Great minds--"

"Honey, we talked about this," Angel interrupted. "No lectures over meals and no debates with anybody under the age of eighteen, remember?"

"But--" She gave him a look. Collins sighed. "Oh, all right."

"Well, it's good to be, um, passionate, about one's job, I suppose," Jennifer said uneasily.

"Oh yeah, I love doing it. I mean there's always a few bratty kids who are obviously only going to school because Daddy's paying for it and that's a bitch, but every now and again you run across somebody who actually gives a damn." There was a slight gasp, and Jennifer bit her lip. What…? Oh yeah, the damn kid. Ah well, he'd hear it sometime, right?

The waiter made a timely appearance at that moment, and everybody ordered. Filet mignon, steak and chicken pasta, kid's steak fingers.

"Do you have anything vegetarian?" Collins asked desperately.

"Yes, there's vegetable soup," he pointed out.

"Beef and vegetable soup."

"Oh. Um, caesar salad?"

"Fine. I'll get that, then. No anchovies."

"Same," Angel sighed.

"So you're a vegetarian?" Jennifer guessed. Wow.

"Yeah. Both of us are," Collins said, still disappointed in the lack of meatless meat balls.

"I didn't know that," Joseph said, surprised. Angel gave Collins a questioning look; he had told her he became a vegetarian when he was twelve, before Joseph moved. Shouldn't he have remembered something like that? Collins shook his head subtly. Why bother? "I'm sorry for choosing a restaurant like this, then," Joseph chuckled. Finally, the customer-pleasing businessman started to come out.

"It's no problem," Collins lied. He could sense yet another moment of silence approaching. Come on, Collins, make some small talk, you can do it! You have a freakin' PhD, for God's sake! If you can chat with the dean at MIT you can talk to your own father. Damn, I hated that guy. He looked like a walrus…

"So how long have you two been engaged?" Angel asked pleasantly, interrupting Collins' internal ramblings. It was the perfect subject; Jennifer practically lit up.

"Well we started dating sometime in May, I think, six years ago, and we've been engaged for almost two years now. Since Valentine's Day."

"That long?" Angel blurted out. Collins had proposed to her four months after they had first met and it wasn't even legal for them! Jennifer didn't seem to see anything odd about it. In fact, she even held Joseph's hand over the table.

"Yes. It seems like forever, some days."

Joseph smiled fondly, and Blake made a face. Ew, PDA. Both adults noticed and let go. It was obvious who wore the pants in this family.

Jennifer was warming up to Angel, just a little bit. After all, they were uncomfortable partners in the War Against Silence. So, she took a nervous sip of wine and asked, "How long have the two of you…?"

"Eleven months."

"Ten months and twenty-two days," Collins replied promptly. Angel looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged. "What? I'm right."

"You're sweet," she chuckled, patting his cheek fondly. Jennifer tried to pretend that she hadn't winced, and Joseph cleared his throat, taking a sip of wine. The little rich boy hadn't learned manners like that yet.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?" Angel asked with wide-eyed innocence.

"That," Blake elaborated, gesturing at her outfit. Collins wanted to put him in a headlock and stuff his body in a toilet for a few hours. Wasn't that what brothers were supposed to do when one of them was being an annoying inconsiderate little brat? Angel didn't take offense.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. So how did you meet?" she asked fluidly, addressing Joseph. About time someone else started talking.

"It was a cocktail party," he said, somewhat gruffly. "Jennifer's father owns a large amount of real estate in England and our companies recently became partners. I had been in the country for a few years before Jennifer started working with us, and the rest is history."

"Do have any plans for the wedding?" Angel asked, as if she had a vested interest in it.

"Not yet. It's not something we want to rush, really, but Jen has picked out a few dresses and things."

"Two years seems like a long time," Angel pointed out kindly.

"Not so long," Jennifer contradicted. She looked uncomfortable again. Then something in the window caught her eye. "Oh my goodness…"

"What is that?" Brat--ah, Blake asked.

Angel looked over her shoulder and gasped, all the color leaving her face. In front of the window stood Mimi, in all her Cat-Scratch dancer, fishnet-mini-skirt-bra glory, arguing with Roger, while Maureen and Joanne made out against the glass and Mark danced around all of them, filming.

"Collins," she muttered.

"Oh, shit… um, excuse us."

"What's wrong?"

"We have to go--now," Collins said urgently, standing, as the host started heading for the door. If he and Angel didn't intervene immediately, there would be serious consequences.

"Some other time, maybe," Angel said apologetically, rushing after him.

And so, City Slums and Country Estate parted, both a little wiser and quite a bit confused about the world. Will they ever meet again? Tune in later for the next installment of the Angel/Collins Adventures.


Yeah, I don't know what that little ad thingy at the end was, but I needed a conclusion. Not a huge fan of this chapter. Oh well. So, tune in! Reviews are the tango to my Maureen.