11

Rhys empties the garbage can into the trash compactor and throws the rags into the washer. He's grimy from cleaning out the refrigerator and emptying bottles of urine from the intern bullpen. He doesn't know what's with these bankers pissing in bottles instead of going to the bathroom. Maybe they didn't want to miss a single trade. But seriously, these days they have smartphones.

Rhys tidies up his cleaning supplies and lock the janitor's closet. Sawyer hasn't texted so it's unlikely he'll see Andy. Which is for the better since he's sweaty and need a nice, long shower. He places a bobble hat on and pulls on his winter jacket.

A cold breeze whips when he steps out of the Mogul Bank building. Keeping his head down, he slides past a group of young bankers with their model playmates.

"Rhys?" A voice calls from behind him. "I can't believe it's you."

It's Rebecca, his college… ah… roommate. Her heels clip clop on the sidewalk at a fast pace. She's wearing her signature Armani suit and Christian Louboutin pumps with the shiny red soles. Her blood-colored Hermès purse is easily worth fifty thousand, and her ears drip with Tiffany diamonds. She opens her arms as if to hug him.

"So nice to see you," she squeals. "I can't believe you're in town. When did Gwen let you out of prison? It must have been horrible. She really thought I was competition. God, I didn't even know you were into that sort. I always thought you were gay!"

Rhys's eyes dart around, but the male interns don't seem to notice them. They're passing a bottle around and getting into a limo.

"It's old news now. So how've you been? I hear you're doing well."

She smoothes her multicolored auburn-red hair. "Couldn't be better. We should have a drink sometime. How's your little girl?"

"She's a gem. The only thing important in my life."

Rebecca flings a smile his direction, except her gaze travels over his shoulder. That come hither look can't be for him.

"Well, hello-o there," she says to someone behind him.

Andy walks over, his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a black leather jacket over a white dress shirt and pleated black dress pants. Rhys's breath catches in his throat. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was one of the bankers strolling toward the building. Andy nods to greet Rebecca, but his eyes are on Rhys. "Rhys, are you done with work?"

"Uh, yes," he mumbles, wishing he could disappear along with his bobble hat, holey jeans, and rain jacket. "I ran into a friend. Rebecca, this is Andy. Andy, Rebecca."

Rebecca holds her hand limp wristed to shake, or more likely offering it to Andy to kiss. He shakes it instead. "Nice to meet you. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh, not at all," Rebecca says. "I was just asking Rhys about his darling Anwen. Rhys, I'm glad to see you're back on your feet. If you ever need anything, a reference or a lead, call me. Let's do lunch sometime."

"Sure, anytime you're free." he stares at the sidewalk as Rebecca departs.

"Sawyer says you wanted to meet me here." Andy takes his hand. "Shall we have dinner?"

"No. I mean, I'm not dressed, and I have to pick up Anwen and go home. I only wanted to give you the money you left at my mum's place. Then I have church." Rhys is so jittery, his words come out in a flurry.

Andy takes Rhys's other hand and stares him square in the face. "I don't need the money."

"But you earned it."

"It's okay. I've got great news." His grin beams over his face, crinkling his eyes. "I got a job."

"Wow! That's wonderful." Rhys throws his arms around him and squeezes. "What will you be doing?"

"Charity work, motivational speaking, and fund raising."

"I'm so happy for you. Does that mean you'll get off the streets?"

"Uh, no. I don't need a place to live, but when I travel, they'll include hotels and travel expenses."

His mood seems to dampen when Rhys asks about him getting a place to live.

"You should still take my mother's money. She feels bad keeping it." Rhys digs into his jacket pocket and shoves the wad of bills into his hand.

"No, honestly." Andy walks alongside him. "But if you insist, I'll hail you a cab. I'm sure you had a long day at work. You look tired."

Rhys stares at the money, regretting it if he's going to waste it on a cab. He can't afford taxis. He doesn't even have a car since he borrows his mum's. Gwen says it's stupid to purchase one and pay for a parking space when she has a fleet of them at Torchwood. Like Rhys will ever get one handed over.

But before he can say anything, Andy waves one over. He's too tired to argue, and besides, his sore feet appreciate it. Andy opens the door for Rhys and helps him into the backseat, then slides in next to him. After asking where he's headed, he gives the driver mother's address.

Once they're on our way, he loops his arm over Rhys's shoulder and pulls him close to him. Rhys hope he doesn't smell the pine cleaner on him. That would be so unromantic. WHOAAAAAA… where did that come from?

"Depending on traffic, we'll have some time to talk," Andy says. "I'd like to see you again, but I'm worried about Anwen, and I don't want her to get hurt if things don't work out between us."

Score one for honesty. He took the words right out of his mouth.

"I feel the same way. I'm hoping this father thing is a phase she'll grow out of." Andy pauses, then says softly "What is going on with you and Gwen? Is this a… break or…"

"I am working that out and I think…. I think it's not so much a break as something is broken. Was a long time ago and I only stayed for Anwen. She needs two parents. Stupid really. Gwen is never there, might as well move on." Rhys finds himself saying and meaning "Besides. She asked for a Papa for Christmas. What is a Taddy to do?"

"Well, I'm glad." Andy kisses the side of his temple. "Because I have a chance to be a prize catch for you."

Rhys shakes his head and chuckles. "Arrogant, aren't you? You get a job and now you're a catch?"

"Not as good a catch as you. Can I tell you I'm attracted to you?"

"Even in these clothes?"

"Well, maybe not." He quirks his eyebrows. "Better without clothes."

"Andy Davidson." Rhys taps Andy's chest. "I can't believe you just said that."

He catches the hand and kisses it. "Make a wish. Your luck's about to change."

"Am I supposed to tell you?" A fit of giggles hit Rhys, and … I mean, there's the proper wish for world peace, and the practical one, getting a better job, and then there's the hunk with his arms around him, smelling like Le Male cologne, powerful, masculine, and terribly sexy.

"Of course. I'm Father Christmas. Tell me, dear boy, what you want for Christmas." Andy is almostunale to talk for his own giggles "Come on now… come sit on my lap… I think I have a candy cane in my pocket here… ooo… it's a biggun."

"Sssh." Rhys motions toward the cab driver, whose eyes glance at them from the mirror.

Andy's breath is in his ear. "Deep in your heart, what do you really want for Christmas?"

You.

Like that song says.