Jared usually hates taking pictures of things. Isn't the purpose of life to live, not to look at stupid sheets of paper and wish and remember? He isn't sure how many people agree with him on this view of things, but really, it's simple enough, isn't it? He even wrote a song about it once and performed it to great cheers at the Olive Leaf club downtown. His songs are usually received with high praise, though, so this is no way to judge.

The two exceptions to this are Christmas and Andy's birthday. On these dates, the camera is out and flashing every ten seconds, nearly blinding the young boy as he wallows through gift after gift after gift, happy to allow his lonely father to spoil him rotten.

"Ah, cool!" Andy cries, holding up his latest gift: Air Snares. Jared smiles and snaps another picture; luckily Andy seems to show the same gift for music Jared has, and Jared plans to exploit it to the best of his ability. "Thanks Dad!"

As Andy starts ripping open the package to get to the electronic sticks, Jared sighs and leans back against the couch. "What do you want for breakfast, buddy?"

"Waffles!" Andy says instantly. "With fruit!"

"What kind?"

"Blueberries!"

Jared grins and gets up to go to the kitchen. "Wait, Dad!"

"What?" Jared turns back.

"I want you to open your present!"

Jared stares, surprised. He usually takes a backseat on Christmas, letting Andy enjoy the pleasures of free toys and games while Jared enjoys the pleasures of having a child to celebrate with. "I have a present?"

"Of course! Why do you think I took that shop class after school?"

Jared raises his eyebrows, then takes the clumsily wrapped gift as it's offered to him. Andy watches, grinning expectantly, his hands clasped under his chin. Jared starts to tear the paper open, smiling slightly as painted wood appears. "This is pretty, Andy," he says honestly, holding the contraption up to admire. It's a shelf, of some sort, with an amateur design in the center, painted in the same reds and blacks of Jared's room. "What's it for?"

"It's a bookshelf," Andy says eagerly. "You can put your sheet music books on it. Or whatever you like to read."

Jared tilts his head, studying the shelf, overwhelmed. Dr. Phil told him last night: Andy was a fine boy. That was an understatement, Jared realizes, running his hands over the smooth wood. Andy is near perfect, and Jared cherishes him like he will cherish nothing else in his lifetime.

"Thanks, sport," Jared says softly, lifting the shelf up and placing it on the coffee table. "I'll put it up sometime tomorrow." Andy beams at him, his face almost as bright as the star on top of their Christmas tree, and Jared can't help but smile back, proud and happy.

Unfortunately, a ringing doorbell cuts off the moment. Jared frowns and gets up. "Did you invite anyone over?"

"No," Andy says honestly, picking at the plastic sheeting around a new CD. "Why would I do that?"

Jared sighs and glances through the peephole. Outside on the door are three young men, giggling and looking anxious. Jared's eyes narrow and he opens the door. "Can I help you?"

"Hi!" One of the boys says, a pretty Hispanic with unbelievably good hair. "You're Jared Deptowitcz, right?"

"Ah... yes." Jared cocks his head to the side. "Why?"

"I'm Benny Fuentes." The boy grins flirtatiously. "These are my friends Paul and Rich. We heard you and Andy on the radio last night and just wanted to drop in to say hi."

Jared raises his eyebrows and shoots a glance at Andy, who is watching him curiously. "Well, uh, Andy and I were just about to start breakfast so, um... now's not a good time..."

"Oh, well, that's okay!" Benny grins and pulls a sheet of paper from his fanny pack; Jared notices that all three boys are in roller blades and wonders how they skated here in the snow. "I'll give you my number and you can call me whenever you like. I'm more than available and..." He prints his number and presents the paper to Jared with a flourish and a sexy smile. "More than willing."

Jared blushes, and Paul and Rich giggle. "Well... thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Um... good bye. Merry Christmas."

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, staring at the number in his hand. "... Andrew Deptowitcz..."

"Christmas, you're not allowed to yell at me on Christmas!"

Jared pursed his lips and scowled. "Fine. I'll save it for tomorrow. I can't believe they got our address though. I thought that was just for Dr. Phil's use."

"I guess they really bugged the station or something."

Jared sighs. "Andy... Bud, I'm fine, okay? You didn't need to call that radio show for me. If this is going to start happening more often, then I wish you hadn't."

Andy stares at his father for a moment, then shrugs. "Whatever you say, Dad."

Noah loved the Coffee Stop cafe. Never in his life had he ever tasted better coffee, even at that Starbuck's down the road, and the atmosphere is amazing. He is always more than happy to meet and socialize at the Coffee Stop.

"Vanilla cappucino," he tells the girl behind the counter, smiling in recognition. She smiles back.

"Extra caramel."

"Oh, Holley, you know me far too well." He laughs. "Yes please."

She laughs as well. "Well, Mr. Miller, having you as a teacher and constant customer would help that."

"Yes it would. Bring it to the table?"

"Of course."
He thanks her and heads for his usual spot, by the window so he can watch for the companion is joining him today: his closest friend, Lute McDonaghey.

This time, as every time, she's early, right behind him. Her firm punctuality is one of many jokes between them; he has never had to wait more than fifteen minutes for her without purposely arriving insanely early.

"Noah!" She cries, greeting him with a tight hug. "You beat me!"

"For once, Lutelles, my dear, you could at least dress up."

She pouts at him, looking down at her pink pajama pants and large t-shirt. "Hon, you're lucky to get this. I did not want to get up today."

"Another fight with Wes?" Snitch responds almost boredly. Lute and her boyfriend are constantly tottering between marriage and break-up. They can never seem to decide if they want to exchange rings or punches.

"Wes? Wes who? Who is this Wes you speak of?" She leans back in her seat and sighs. "Did you order yet? Of course you did. Hey, Holley!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I'll have the same as Mr. Miller. Put it on his tab."

"Hey!"

'Hey, you're the loser who actually has a tab here." She smirks and Holly starts making the other drink. She's a student at Naranja Fields High School, and has had both Lute and Noah as teachers. She knows them and their friendship well, as do other students at the school. Lute is the band director, playful but disciplined. Noah teaches the history classes, and has a clean record of having never given a student detention in all his five years at Naranja Fields. He doesn't need to; the kids like and respect him, and therefore don't act up more than necessary.

"Lutelles, you're such a mooch." Noah kicks her under the table and she squeals; even teachers can be kids sometimes.

"Don't be a jerk," She snaps. "Tell me what you and Emilio did-"

"Sh! Not in front of Holley!"

"Honey, everyone knows." Lute rolls her eyes. "If they don't, then they must be blind."

"I'm not a flamer-"

"No, but you have Emilio's picture on your desk, and he's definitely not your brother. Thanks, sweetie," she amends as Holley drops off their drinks. "Oh, and can you do me a favor? Tell me, is Mr. Miller gay or straight?"

Holley answers immediately: "Gay." Noah's jaw drops and she laughs. "But no one cares, Mr. Miller. The ones that do just switch into Mrs. Tinsey's class, and that's their loss 'cause she only does notes and busywork. They always regret switching."

"Told you so. Thanks, Holley."

"Not a problem."

"Now tell me what Emilio got you for Christmas," Lute continues, returning her attention to Noah. "I want to know what a good boyfriend is like."

Noah grins. "You love Wes and you know it."

"Love does not a good boyfriend make. Now spill."

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you."

"Maybe you should before I tell my kids to sing 'Hey Jude' outside your window again."

Noah winces. "At five in the morning?"

"Of course."

"Lute, no sane student is at school at five in the morning."

"Noah, you know my kids. Are they sane?"

"... No."

She waves a hand at him, dismissing his claim. "Now. Share."

Noah glances around the shop, then, with a shy grin, lifts his left hand and spreads his fingers for her to see. The look of shock on her face is priceless, her already round features rounding further as she gapes. "No," she says finally.

"Yes."

"He didn't."

"That's right, he didn't, and that's why there's no ring on my finger."

"Smartass." She grabs his hand and studies the ring. "No diamond?"

"We're not that gay."

She shrugs, silently disagreeing, and Noah laughs despite himself. "It's pretty, though," she admits with a hint of jealousy. "Simple and elegant. And I love white-gold."

"I was stunned when he asked. I mean, I never thought we would... what's that look for?"

"Look?" She raises her eyebrows, attempting innocence. "What look?"

"The one you always get when I talk about Emilio. Lutelles... " He starts to whine. "I know you don't like him, but really, I do, I love him even, and-"

"Hey, you're not exactly nice to Wes."

"Neither are you."

She scowls. "Hon, I'm going to tell you one more time: you. Can. Do. Better. Emilio is a tight-wad stick-in-the-mud. You need someone you can have fun with, someone who won't die of allergens." She tilts her head slightly. "Someone who wants kids. And is willing to leave this goddamn homophobic state for them."

Noah pouts and sips his coffee. "I'll convince him."

"Right. And Wes will remember my birthday."

Noah laughs. "Okay, subject change. What did you do on Christmas?"

"Me? I got a new shipment of music in and spent two hours organizing the music library by level, then alphabetical by composer."

"... And you think Emilio's OCD?"

"Shut up. After that, I went home and listened to the Dr. Phil radio special. Oh my gosh!" She sits up straight, her eyes glistening. "Did you hear that one guy? Skittery? The gay dad?"

Noah frowns. "Yeah. I heard."

"That is the coolest thing ever. A gay dad! You should marry him."

Noah gapes at her, nearly dropping his coffee mid-sip. "I don't even know him! What if he's, like, forty-two with a harelip and lazy eye?"

"Gays are so superficial."

"Oh, like Wes is ugly."

"Hey! His nose is too big!"

"Shut up, he's gorgeous." Noah laughs. "But this Skittery guy? I mean, he can't even use that word right. You're either jittery or skittish, but you're not skittery. That's stupid."

"You would say something like that. Bah." Lute plops her drink onto the table and points her finger in Noah's direction. "Dear, don't settle. That's all I'm telling you."

Noah is starting to get a little tired of Lute's advice. It's his life, isn't it? Who the hell said he was settling for Emilio? He loves Emilio, and Emilio loves him. That's all that matters.

"Uh-oh." Lute sits up straight and stares at the table. "I know that look. Indignant surpressed rage. I'd better shut up. Before you bust my nose in."

Noah rolls his eyes. "You know I'd never hit you."

"Yeah, but I also know that sometimes you want to." She takes the lid off his cup and swirls it around, looking discreetly at her friend. "Hon, I'm just being honest-"

"I know," he snaps. "I know you don't like Emilio, okay? I just don't know why." He hesitates, debating, then takes the jab. "Is it 'cause he's not you, is that why?"

Lute drops her cup and stares at him, shocked and hurt. "What? Noah!"

He knows he's gone too far, but says nothing.

"Don't flatter yourself. It was never you." Her voice is calm, but her teeth run over her lower lip, and her fingers tap against the table, so he knows she's upset. "I love you, Noah, but not that way. You know that. Don't push that on me."

Noah sighs. "Sorry. But it's still frustrating that you don't like him. He makes me happy, Lutabelle. Isn't that enough?"

She studies him for a moment, arms crossed over her small chest. "... Does he really make you happy, Noah?"

That isn't the response he expected. "Um... well... yeah, I guess..."

"That's what I thought." She scoots out of the booth and stands. "Thanks for breakfast, but I've gotta go home and change. Wes, no doubt, will have some extravagant way to apologize and I have to get dressed to accommodate. Call me later and I'll spill all details?"

Noah nods and smiles slightly. She smiles back, but Noah knows better than to assume he's been forgiven that quickly. "Love ya, babe."

"Uh-huh, right." She kisses his cheek anyway and heads out, brushing hair out of her face as she walks down the street. Noah sighs and leans back in his seat. Sometimes a fag hag could be a nice thing to have.

But girls can be so damn manipulative.

"Thank you, Lutelles," he mutters to himself. "Thank you for making me doubt my engagement . Thanks a fucking ton."

.:AUTHOR'S NOTE:.

... Okay, I actually wrote/finished this a long time ago, but I made a deal with Dakki that I'd post it when she updated next, and that, um, never played out, so I got bored today and decided it was time to post it. Aha. Next update should be Someone Out There (if Cheri gets her part of the story back to me tonight like she's supposed to), followed by either The Pact or A Far, Far Better World. Hearts love kisses.