A/N: Written for the challenge L'il Senzu posted. I recommend a lot of you write for it, since you're all so talented. Please vote for my fic by e-mailing L'il Senzu with your name, the title of my fic, my penname, and which challenge the fic is for (Challenge 1 in this case). If you SIGN IN and REVIEW, it'll also counts for points. But mostly, enjoy!
"Coming…" Roger's semi-conscious form mumbled.
"Now, Roger!" Mark added, slightly more forcefully, "We promised to meet Maureen and Joanne at that new bar down the street, remember?"
"Roger!" Mark leaned over the bed, shaking the figure as forcefully as he could. To his complete surprise, Roger grabbed him by the waist and pulled him under the covers. Mark's lips met Roger's, their hands automatically stroking each other. Their eyes met in the reddish-darkness of the covers, illuminated by the sunlight that the thin blanket failed to filter out.
"Roger! We'll be late!" the scrawny film-maker breathlessly scolded his roommate, but snuggling closer all the while.
"It's only 8…" Roger purred, kissing his way up to Mark's ear.
"Actually," Mark corrected, throwing off the blanket, "it's 10:00." Roger stuck out his tongue playfully at Mark, and threw on a sweatshirt, hopping out of his bed.
Or rather, their bed.
"So, what's the place called again?"
Mark pulled out a piece of scrap paper from his pants pocket, and squinted at his own barely illegible handwriting.
"It's called…uh…The Slut."
"Oh, that's a – what?" Roger looked up at his room-mate, puzzled.
"Oh, nonono, wait…" Mark gave a sheepish grin, "It's The Spot."
Roger rolled his eyes, pulling on a pair of pants. "What time are we meeting her?"
"And what's the time now?"
"And how far away is it?"
"And you choose to wake me up now?"
The rocker gave a chortle, ruffling Mark's hair and settling back into his bed. You can never go wrong with Mark…he thought, smiling to him.
"What are you doing?" the bespectacled boy asked, confused by this action.
"I'm going back to bed Mark," Roger replied diplomatically, giving an exaggerated yawn. Mark stood there, staring blankly at him. "Well?" he asked pointedly, "Are you joining me?"
"Roger, Roger!" Mark's voice urgently called, "It's 11:40! OhmyGod! What if we're late?"
"Then we're late." Roger half-shrugged, sitting up and watching Mark dash crazily to the bathroom.
"Do I look all right, Roger?"
"You look perfect, Mark," Roger honestly replied.
Mark stuck his head back out of the bathroom with a sour look, "Are you being sarcastic?"
"Mark, you look fine," Roger rolled his eyes, "And anyways, why be concerned with your looks when you know mine are more important?"
"Haha, Roger," Mark called from the bathroom.
"And what are you doing in there anyway?" the guitarist asked curiously, standing up and stretching, "Masturbating again?"
"No," Mark came out looking confused, "I was taking a piss."
Twenty minutes later, Roger, Maureen, Joanne, Mark and his camera were assembled at The Spot – already quite full for a new bar. They managed to find seats at one of the few unoccupied tables, Maureen exclaiming about 'all these friendly people! I wonder if they're interested in my new protest…' Joanne let out a sigh that was just a little too loud, receiving an understanding look from Mark.
"Hey, I'm gonna go get some drinks for us, all right?" Roger proclaimed, standing up and giving a kiss to Mark on his cheek.
"I'll go with you, Roger!" Maureen brightly said, looking around – probably for someone to flirt with.
"And, uh, I'll come too!" Joanne quickly chipped in, to Maureen's slight disappointment, "Sorry Mark, we'll be right back."
"Yeah, don't run off to film a stripper while we're getting some drinks," Roger nodded solemnly, causing Maureen to look around in anticipation. Mark stifled a laugh as they retreated.
"Oh Roger," Maureen sighed, as they walked off to get drinks, "Why can't you be sweet to Mark for once?"
"Excuse me?" Roger laughed, turning to Maureen.
"Yeah, I mean, you're always insulting him or something!"
"No, I'm not!"
"Yes, you are!"
"Prove it!" Roger irritably snapped back.
"Well, what about just now? You were poking fun at him filming things like strippers!"
Roger bit his tongue to stop himself telling Maureen this comment was mostly made for provoking her. Joanne rolled her eyes, and began ordering the drinks.
"I bet you couldn't be sweet to Mark if you tried!"
Roger began an indignant response, but Maureen had already sashayed back to the table, drinks in hand.
"You're great with Mark," Joanne assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and retreating back to the table.
"Thanks, Joanne," Roger smiled, following her.
Over the next hour, whether it be Maureen checking out some girl (or guy), Joanne getting agitated, a good band playing, and people vulgarly dancing, Roger began to wonder. Maybe I'm not that sweet to Mark…he worriedly thought, But Mark's never said anything about it…
"Are you all right, Roger?" Mark asked Roger, concerned.
"I'm fine, Mom." Roger replied teasingly, seeing Maureen at the corner of his eye shaking her head rather exaggeratedly, and thought: Oh yeah, Miss Save-the-Cows-Diva-Queen? I'm gonna prove you wrong…
"Do you want to take a shower first?" Roger softly asked Mark, when they'd gotten home.
"Uh, sure Roger," Mark consented, looking puzzled at this sudden softness. Mark entered the bathroom and turned on the water to 'HOT', waiting for the familiar "Don't use up all the hot water again, asshole!" but instead heard something that sounded like the front door closing. He shrugged it off, and returned to his shower.
Meanwhile, Roger had run out of the loft, skidding down a couple flights and narrowly avoiding breaking his neck. On the second floor of the apartment lived a whiny old lady who supposedly used to work at a nursery for plants, and had garnered quite a collection of flowers. Roger had always had a sneaking suspicion that there wasn't enough space left in her rooms, so she had to have pots on her window-sills and outside her door. Of course, with such a huge collection of flowers at her door, thievery was imminent. Roger felt bad about adding to this, but what the hell: he rationalized. It was for a good cause.
I wonder why Roger is acting so weird today? Mark thought, he's been acting funny around me ever since he went to get drinks with Maureen and Joanne. Oh man, Maureen must have said something about me…What did she say? I hope it wasn't about that time when she got home late…
While these thoughts were running through Mark's head, Roger rushed back up a couple more stairs and arrived at Mimi's apartment. They had broken up and remained friends, but Mimi had recently gone to her mother's place for a visit. Roger swung open the door, and dashed in, looking for some candles…
Oh God, what if Maureen told him about what we used to do in bed? Mark panicked, or about the time I got drunk…? He realized that he'd been using the water for far too long, and turned off the water, wiping himself off with a towel that need to be cleaned itself. "Roger?" Mark called, stepping out of the bathroom, "You can go in now!"
No reply came.
"Roger?" Mark stepped out into the 'living room' of the loft, looking for his roommate. "Roger? Yoo-hoo? Are you there?"
Did I just say yoo-hoo? Mark wondered.
"Did you just say 'yoo-hoo'?" Roger's amused voice called.
Mark looked over, and did a double take. Roger was sitting at their small dining table, a lighted candle and a box in front of him.
"Uh…Roger?" Mark confusedly asked, edging closer, "What're you doing?"
"I thought we could have a romantic dinner!"
"Uh, Captain Crunch?" Mark inquired, examining the box in from of Roger.
"Yeah, well," Roger shrugged, grinning, "Sit!"
Mark smiled: Roger was just trying to be sweet.
"You're really pretty in the candlelight, you know?" Roger offered, pouring out Captain Crunch into separate bowls for them.
Roger is sweet.
"Pretty as a rose…" Roger mused.
A little funny, but sweet.
"But, y'know, as Lord Alfred Tennyson once said: 'That which they call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.'"
Or just weird.
"That was Shakespeare, Roger," Mark timidly corrected.
"But," he continued with a sheepish grin, "as Gertrude Stein said: 'A rose is a rose is a rose.'" With that, Roger pulled out a bouquet of roses.
Well, still sweet.
"Thank you, Roger! Where did you get these?"
Roger considered telling Mark he stole them, and decided against it.
"To the end of the world and back, my love."
"The end of the world and back for me?" Mark asked, giggling slightly at Roger's words.
"Anything for you."
This was getting disturbing.
"Um, you too."
"Did you know I love you?"
"Yes, Roger. I love you too."
This wasn't working.
"Let's go get drunk and have wild hot sex after."
"Damn, I thought you'd never ask."
A/N: Review! (and vote) Hope you liked it!