Disclaimers: Mine! Lesbians! Bad language!

"No, this isn't going to work! Who put that white stuff in with the flowers; it looks like a damned flower milkshake! And the friggin' model's drunk! I need another model, Reg, and I need one now!"

The deadline was in 24 hours, so of course everything fell apart at the last minute. When I became a professional photographer, shooting print ads for national bridal chains wasn't what I had in mind. I wanted to be taking pictures of nature - squirrels, flowers, birds, naked women, that sort of thing. Not this crap. Unfortunately, this crap is what paid the bills. Well, the naked women would've, too, but I even I had standards. I kept those photos private.

The small man next to me sniffed. "It's Reginald, and you damn well know it, Serena."

And I damn well didn't care. Reg could be such a pretentious little ass. Why was he my assistant, anyway? Oh, yeah, he's my brother. Our parents would've killed me if I'd fired him.

"Just do it!" I bellowed, and he actually jumped. Little twerp. It didn't hurt I was a good eight inches taller than him, and paired with my black hair and "electric" blue eyes, I scared the crap out of him. I almost giggled, but figured that would ruin the image. "And get her out of that dress before she pukes on it." Normally I love to take clothing off of beautiful women, but not this one. Ew.

Reg sniffed again, and then scurried into my office, a cell phone stuck to his ear. I was about to follow before a loud crash caught my attention. My now former model had toppled over, smashing right into the flower milkshake. Damn, I wanted to be the one to break it. After making sure she wasn't hurt, I bellowed for Reg to come clean things up. He ran into the room so fast, he knocked over one of the studio lights. Sparks flew, but thankfully nothing caught fire.

Things were really getting out of hand. I was just about to ream the light stand up Reg's backside, when someone had the nerve to interrupt me. "Excuse me, are you Serena Ryan?" a voice asked.

I whipped around, ready to decapitate the interloper. "What…" My voice trailed off, all my earlier annoyance forgotten. How could I be annoyed when I was obviously looking at the face of a green-eyed angel? In that moment, I could see a hundred lifetimes flash through my mind, those eyes in every single one. That's a little fucked up. To make matters worse, I got the feeling she experienced the same thing. I shook my head to clear it, and made a mental note to quit reading Xena fan fiction. It was affecting my brain.

She recovered first. "Ms. Ryan? Are you all right?" No, I wasn't all right. I was having lives flash before my eyes, and they weren't even mine. Damn it.

I did my best to scowl at the stranger. Considering I was starting to drool from just looking at her, that really wasn't easy. "I'm fine. Who the hell are you?"

"UPS. I have a package delivery for you." I stared at her, dumbstruck. I knew she wasn't packing; those shorts she was wearing were too tight for that. Oh, wait -- a uniform. UPS. Package. Got it. Though, the brown outfit really wasn't working for me. She'd look better in… "White! Reg, get your ass over here, we have our model!" I started setting up the shoot again, sans one light. "What's your name? Wait, never mind. I'll call you Angel."

Angel looked stunned. I got the feeling she was trying to say something, if the way she was opening and closing her mouth was any indication. I'm pretty sure she squeaked, though no actual words tumbled out. No matter, this was a print shoot; she didn't need to talk.

Reg bumbled his way over and squinted at my find. "Isn't she a little short?"

I gazed at Angel. "No," I whispered, barely trusting myself to speak. "She's perfect." What the hell? Shaking myself, I got back to business. "Besides, she's taller than you, Reg. Get somebody here with another dress, and then get her into makeup. First, though, get a contract drawn up. Triple the normal rate." He looked like he wanted to say something, but just skittered off instead. Good boy.

Suddenly, a very loud "WAIT!" caused me to stop and look at Angel again. Not that I'd really stopped looking. Or drooling. "What the hell is going on here?!" She seemed alarmed.

"You're my new model, Angel. Now, if you'll just follow me…" I tried to hurry her along by taking her arm. She held firm, though. She was much stronger than she looked. Nice.

She shook her lovely head, then turned to face me. Oh, those eyes. "Um, no. I have a job, that's why I'm here. UPS, remember?"

Reg ran back over, waving a freshly printed contract. That was quick. "Here. You'll have to fill in the name, though."

I handed Angel the papers. "I don't know what you're paid at UPS, Angel, but this is what you'll make in the next few hours." Smirking, I added, "Surely you can take the rest of the day off."

She let out a laugh. "For this, I could take the rest of the month off. All you want me to do is pose for some pictures?" she asked, skeptically. "Nothing else?"

"Nothing else," I quickly agreed. "But, if you're free later, I'd love to take you to dinner. Completely optional. Agreed?"

We locked eyes, and I swear time stood still. "Agreed," she said, finally. "To both."

"YES!! You'll make a beautiful bride." Today, and maybe in the future. Our future.

"By the way, how did you know my name's Angel?" she asked.

Wow, too weird. "Fate, my Angel, that's all I can say."