Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Mark's Makeover

Maureen and Mimi first really became friends the day they decided giving Mark a makeover for Roger's first performance with his new band would be fun. They had been sitting on the loft's ratty old couch, small talking (which is really the only thing they had done up until that point) and listening to Mark ramble into his camera about the show they would be attending that night, a hint of childish happiness radiating through his voice.

Looking up at Mark as he panned his camera by them and back towards the windows, Mimi smiled.

"He's got the greatest eyes," She admitted, ignoring the sound of Mark's narrating in the background.

A little startled by her words, Maureen looked over, "Mark?"

"Yeah. I'm sure you've noticed, obviously."

Maureen smiled, a hint of a evil grin escaping over her lips.

"Yeah, he does."

They sat in silence for one - two - three seconds-

"We should give him a makeover!"

The words were in perfect synch, and both women whipped their heads towards one another at the realization that they'd spoken at the same time. Suddenly, laughter erupted through their bodies, and Mark appeared in front of them, eyes wide behind his glasses and camera whirring idly in his hand.

"We should give Mark a what?"

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Hours and lots of whining later, Maureen and Mimi stood before Mark, practically beaming.

"It's gonna be so awesome!" Mimi laughed, "Wait until Roger sees you, he's gonna love it."

Mark grumbled inaudibly under his breath, something about Roger and the fact that he'd like anything that made him look like an idiot.

Grasping Mark's cheeks in her hands, Maureen brought her face close to his.

"I wouldn't let you go anywhere if you looked stupid. It's for fun, Marky, not for real. We love the little sweater and scarf fetish you have, but we're trying to have some fun. Are you okay?"

Mark nodded slightly, defeated. Maureen pressed her lips to his in a quick peck before stepping back, surveying the creation her and Mimi had created. Mark felt violated, his eyes darkening at the way they were looking at him.

The sound of a door opening took their attention away from Mark, as they watched Collins waltz in, a grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, I got some stuff for us to pre-ball with before-" He froze, staring at Mark, eyes wide. The silence stretched for a few moments, making Mark burn with embarrassment. Finally, Collins' shocked expression stretched into one of genuine excitement.

"Shit, Mark, you're looking hot," He admitted, crossing the loft to pat Mark on the cheek, "He's sexy. Girls, you are amazing."

With a kiss to Mimi and Maureen's cheeks, he walked back into the kitchen, glancing every once and awhile to the group standing silently in the middle of the loft, the girls giving "see? told you so" looks to the slightly blushing Mark.

"Can I at least see what you guys did to me now?"

With a sweep of their arms, Mimi and Maureen gestured towards the bathroom. Mark looked at them with an unsure glance, finally walking past them. Maureen reached over and slapped his ass as he walked by, and blood rushed to his face, walking quicker to the bathroom, trying to escape the girls' laughing.

Closing his eyes upon entering the bathroom, Mark took a deep breath, imagining what they could have done to him. It'd taken way too long, and way too many "costume changes" for his liking, leaving him with absolutely no clue what he could've looked like. All he remembered was pencils being waved in his face and clothes being thrust into his hands, and a thick, green colored substance being pushed into his hair, and finally, Maureen and Mimi physically undressing him in the middle of the loft with no regards to his modesty or mental health.

Finally, after several deep breaths and a pinch to his side to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he opened his eyes, eyes meeting to a stranger's in the mirror. Mark was looking at a warped, rock n roll esque version of himself, look complete with kohl-eyelined eyes, which somehow accentuated his blue eyes, and wildly spiky hair with blue streaks. He ran a hand over his face, eyes immediately drawn to the black nail polish painted on his fingertips. A thick, metal necklace and bracelet, borrowed from Roger (who didn't even know was being borrowed) completed the accessories. Looking down at himself, Mark's eyes flashed over the tight teeshirt he wore, which was emblazoned with some band's name on it (it had originally been Roger's, but he'd accidentally shrunken it in the wash, so it just fit snugly over Mark's thin frame) and the pair of old, slightly baggy jeans that Mark hated to wear. Mimi had ripped a hole into one leg of the jeans and used a nail file to make them seem worn in other places, attaching one of Roger's wallet chains to it. Topped off with a pair of boots, Mark looked decked out, looking oddly like he was trying to be -

"Hey, how come you guys put me in a Roger costume?" He joked, turning to the doorway, where the girls had come to hover to see his reaction. Smiling at him sweetly, Maureen reached over and pulled Mark's glasses off.

"You're going to a rock and roll show tonight, you silly filmmaker. You have to look the part."

Mark, who was horribly near-sighted, reached for Maureen in search of his glasses, but she was out of the doorway before he could protest. With a sigh, he squinted, nearly tripping on his way out of the bathroom.

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"Stop touching your face, you'll smudge your eyeliner," Maureen scolded, hand on Mark's shoulder as they weaved their way through the crowd at the "Night" Club, her other hand firmly grasped onto Joanne's.

"There's something I never thought any of us would be saying to him, especially," Mimi laughed, walking confidently beside the group. The crowd seemed to part for her, something that always happened when she was in a room of hundreds of people.

"Look at this girl part the crowd like the Red Sea," Collins joked, walking in Mimi's wake as they made their way to the side of the stage. Already a little tipsy and overly excited for Roger's first appearance with his new band, Single Song Glory, the group, led by Mimi and Mark, sidled up to the side of the stage, standing on their tippy-toes to see where the band was getting ready to go on.

"Roger!" Mimi yelled, spotting her boyfriend, who was smoking a cigarette with his guitarist by his side. Roger immediately looked up, a grin crossing his face as he recognized the group waving excitedly to him. Suddenly, a look of confusion fell on his features as he locked gazes with Mark.

His realization was not to come much later, because moments later, his eyes widened and his face split in a beautiful smile, and he made his way over to them, laughing.

"Shit Mark," He laughed, immediately pulling his roommate into a tight hug, "Holy crap. You look awesome."

Mark laughed and pulled his camera up from his side, pointing it into Roger's face.

"May 6th, 1990," He narrated, laughter and inebriation hovering in his voice, "Roger's about to take the stage again for the first time in over a year, and he's happier than I've ever seen him."

Roger, with a laugh, pulled the camera away from Mark, pointing it in his roommate's direction, "May 6th, 1990, Mark's wearing eyeliner and apparently in costume as me. Sounds like my favorite girl got her hands on him."

He looked over at Mimi, who's grin was slightly evil, and then at Maureen, who looked just as guilty.

"Alright, scratch that. Two of my favorite girls."

They all laughed, and Mark flushed in embarrassment, catching the camera when Roger lightly tossed it to him. From behind him, Roger's drummer was calling him, ushering the guitarist with his drumsticks that it was time to go onstage.

With a wink, Roger was gone, after his bandmate, leaving his friends in his wake.

Maureen leaned forward and tapped Mimi on the shoulder.

"If giving Mark a makeover could make Roger smile like that again, we should give him a makeover more often."

The first chords of Single Song Glory's first song echoed through the bar, and Mark tilted his camera up at his friend, who was beginning to lean towards the microphone. Mimi looked back at Maureen with a wink.

"Next time, drag queen?"

Maureen laughed, nodding, "Exactly what I was thinking."

It was then that Maureen and Mimi's relationship had tilted. No longer were they friends of friends, they were just plain friends.

And for that, they were both grateful.