Yay, updateness! I'm having a lot of fun with this story :) Anyway, thanks sooo much to my lovely reviewers! I love you guys! And if you're just reading and not reviewing, i love you too, don't worry (not that I'm saying that you shouldn't review --shakes finger at non-reviewers--)

Disclaimer: When you're living in America at the end of the Millenium, you're what you own... unfortunately I don't own Rent...

Collins' pronouncement of Angel not wanting to be pretty and wanting to dress like a boy seemed to stun Maureen into an uncharacteristic silence.

The silence lasted approximately 2.4 seconds.

"Angel, baby, what's going on?" she exclaimed, following Angel over to the closet.

"He is exaggerating," Angel said coldly.

Maureen glanced at Mark's clothes, all hanging neatly on mismatched hangers. "Are you trying to dress like a guy in general or a straight guy?"

"… A straight guy."

"Then might I suggest not using Mark's wardrobe?" She looked over at the cameraman in question. "He dresses like a queer."

"What!" Mark's face turned red.

"It's true and you know it," Maureen said, looking him up and down. "Come on. The tight pants. The scarf in the middle of April. The artsy glasses."

"Well," Angel said, pulling out the loosest-looking pair of jeans she could find, "it's better than a black miniskirt and stilettos."

The jeans were plain and old and something that she would never wear, even if she wasn't doing the drag thing. She did in fact own some clothes to wear if she were to ever be in a situation where someone would be super-uncomfortable if she did show up in drag. But those clothes were gayer than Mark's, because she never wanted to try to be something she wasn't.

Until now.

Angel grabbed a shirt too, a black button-down. She had one a lot like it, only it was make of fake silk and was tighter. She beckoned for Maureen to follow her into Mark's bedroom.

"Fuck! This is gonna be so much fun!" Maureen exclaimed, leaning against the door after she closed it and throwing her head back in glee. "It'll be perfect. Here, I'll unzip your dress…."

The first time Andy kissed a boy was at summer camp when he was sixteen years old.

He had not wanted to go to camp, feeling like he was too old for it now. Jason would not be going this year. He had a job at the pizza place down the street from the school. But Andy's parents made him go, and he knew why—he had heard them talking about it. His dad thought he was too effeminate, and that two weeks in the woods would magically make that go away.

It didn't. There was this guy, Alex, in Andy's cabin that he was simply crazy for. He was cute and nice and funny and made Andy feel really great. The last night before they all went home, Alex said that he had something he wanted to show Andy at the back of the cabin. What Andy had been expecting was a prank of some sort. What he got was his first kiss.

He never saw Alex again after that. But the memory of the kiss and how it had opened up new possibilities and optimism for him remained.

In Mark's clothes, Angel felt very… loose. It was weird, and she didn't like it, because it made her feel more like her insecure high school self, which was not going to help her situation with Collins, who already thought she was being unreasonable. Maureen had also removed Angel's wig and makeup and stood with her arms folded, admiring her handiwork.

"Once we teach you how to hold yourself like a man, you will be indistinguishable from any guy out there. You look at least as hetero as Mark does."

Angel realized that she was grimacing slightly and immediately tried to relax her face. "Is there a mirror?" she asked, smoothing the wrinkles in the shirt. "I'll have to iron this…."

"Don't you dare!" Maureen said, taking her upper arm (the fabric of the shirt bunched unfamiliarly around her skin) and leading her to the door. "Straight guys definitely don't iron." She paused. "Actually, I don't think anyone really irons. Except Joanne." She opened the door. "But that's just because she has a stick up her ass.

"Boys!" Maureen shouted to Mark and Collins who had been talking in low voices for the past ten minutes. "Cover your eyes, I have to bring Angel into the bathroom!" She peeped her head out first to make sure that neither one was looking—they were both covering their eyes, but disdainfully—and then scurried to the itsy-bitsy bathroom, leading Angel by the hand.

Maureen covered Angel's eyes and then closed the door. "Ok," she said, as if about to reveal an amazing prize to the winner of a game show. "Are you ready?" Angel nodded. Maureen removed her hands from Angel's face and turned her to look into the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

Angel was not sure what to think of this appearance. She had been assuming that the change would be drastic, but in fact she looked hardly different than she did when she played on the street. Just a little more clean-cut. Still, it was strange since she did not look in the mirror before she went to Avenue A to set up her drums, because it just didn't matter.

"Andy," she whispered to her reflection, standing there looking so short without heels, and so drab in black and blue-jean. She knew she looked anything but masculine, but perhaps it was just that she did not feel masculine and therefore could not perceive herself as such. Maybe if she wore boxers or something….

No way—it would be a cold day in doggy hell when Angel Dumott Schunard stooped to wearing boxers.

"What do you think, Maureen?" Angel asked, checking herself out from different angles.

"I think you look damn sexy," she replied. "The female population is really missing out."

Angel turned to her. "Wait, but you like—"

"I like what I like," Maureen replied, taking Angel's shoulders and turning her back to the mirror. Maureen was taller than her in her two-inch platforms. "And I like what I see."

Maureen told Angel to stay put, then ran out into the living room, beaming at Collins and Mark. Mark raised his eyebrows at her. Collins did not even react, just looked at her. She was definitely the only one who thought this whole ordeal to be fun, and did not even realize that no one (not even Angel) shared her amusement.

"Are you ready for this?" she said, her excitement threatening to bubble over.

The men did not answer. Maureen did not seem to notice. She cleared her throat.

"Presenting, for the first time in public since 1995, A—" She paused, then whispered to Collins, "What was his real name again?" Collins did not answer. "Andy, right? Yeah.

"Presenting! Andy! Dumott! Schunard!" Nothing happened. You could practically hear crickets chirp. "Eh-hem! I said presenting-Andy-Dumott-Schunard!"

Reluctantly, Angel stepped out of the bathroom and into the living room, his eyes focused on the floor.

Andy did not ever look up when he walked the school hallways. His head was always bent down. The first reason was that he had no confidence. The second was that if he met eyes with a stranger, he feared they would see right through him and into his thoughts of boys and lipstick and shopping, and would know what he was and his life would come to an end.

Mark said "Whoa!" very quietly to himself. Collins did not say a word. Angel looked up at him and into his eyes, pleading with him to understand why she had to do this.

He shook his head, looking disappointed in her.

And if there was one thing that Angel just could not take, it was someone being disappointed in her. Especially Collins.

"You should not be doing this," he said.

"Collins!"
"No, Angel. This is wrong, you know that this is totally wrong."

Her face flushed. "There is nothing wrong with it! In case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not actually a woman!" She was shouting now.

"You are taking this too far."

"OH THAT'S NICE! AN ANARCHIST TELLING ME I'M TAKING IT TOO FAR!"

Dead silence.

Mark and Maureen looked between the two of them, speechless.

Collins stared disbelievingly at her.

Angel clapped her hand to her mouth. She could not believe she had just said that.

"Collins," she said weakly, "I'm sorry. I…. I didn't mean…."

Collins' expression was disgusted and hurt. "I'm goin' home." He said quietly, grabbing his coat off the back of the couch. "Let me know when the Angel I fell in love with comes back."

"Collins!"

But he was already halfway out the door. Angel thought he would slam it. She wished he would have slammed it. But instead he just closed it gently with a quiet click.

So, I shall update as soon as I can!