There's a specific moment that is spoken about in Love Games by Cameragirl (cameragirl88 on LJ) that I had a bizarre infatuation with and finally emailed her asking for per permission to write a little flashback/continuation of it. As I have said, this basic sort of thing is her idea… the text and stuff is mine.

This wasn't exactly beta'd so… don't be too harsh.

If you're wondering, Give Into Love's second chapter was almost completely written when my flipping laptop lost power and lost it all pouts so… I'm trying to rewrite it.

If you haven't read Cameragirl's story, Love Games, up to chapter seven… don't read this fic.

"Mark Cohen! Message for you," the nasally, irritating voice of the receptionist blared through his ears. He was trying to take an unnoticed nap in his pathetic confined cubical at Buzzline, when a hot pink post it note was dropped on his head. Couldn't he ever skive off work in peace? He took the disgusting little sheet and unraveled it. In an almost illegible scrawl was written the following;

Don't eat dinner


Well that was quite informative , he thought sarcastically Why wouldn't Roger want me to eat dinner? I never eat outside the loft… His thoughts wandered as he grabbed a pen and began to work on fall lineup Alexi had given him earlier that day.

"Roger, I'm home! Where the hell are you?" Mark called into the empty loft. It was 7 o'clock… where was he? "I didn't eat dinner like you wanted me to… what was that about?" he yelled some more, not really caring that Roger was probably not there. He dropped his bag and coat onto the stool and headed into his room when the door swung open. It was Roger, his light eyes wide in excitement, his hair blown back by the wind, and his cheeks tinted lightly pink.

Mark's heart skipped about five beats.

"Where were you?" Mark said, trying not to concentrate on him, who was now flashing one of the most gorgeous smiles he'd ever seen at absolutely nothing. Roger jumped at the sudden noise.

"Oh, Mark! I…. uh… well, you'll see in a minute." He said, running into their 'kitchen' and stuffing something into his pocket.

"Okay." He said, furrowing his eyebrows and staring at Roger. He began to walk towards his room. "I'm just gonna-"

"No!" Roger jumped at him and grabbed his arm. On Mark's confused look, he continued. "I mean, sorry, just… come upstairs with me."

"Upstairs?" Mark asked. "Rog, since when have we had an upstairs?"

Roger glared at him. "You know what I mean, the roof, idiot."

"Okay" Mark said again. This was extraordinarily confusing, and Roger looking as attractive as possible wasn't exactly helping.

They walked out the door of the loft and began up the rickety old staircase. Roger was basically skipping and Mark had to jog to keep up. The only thing wrong with that was that it was a little easier to fall, and that he did. Roger quickly jumped down several stairs and caught him in his arms.

"Mark! Mark are you okay?" he stared down at him. Mark smiled. He had never seen him so worried over nothing.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Well, if fine was another word for about to burst, yeah, then he was fine. He chuckled, picked himself up and continued up the stairs. "Lets go, I want to see this big 'surprise'… or whatever it is."

"Okay." Roger bit his lip and his cheeks began to flush.

They finally reached the door leading to the roof. Roger jumped in front of him and blocked the door. Mark tried to reach for the handle, but Roger blocked it instead.

"Mark, I have to talk to you before you see this." He said. Mark nodded; this was making him more than a little nervous. "This is gonna change everything… no matter what your reaction is. I knew it was coming along sometime, but…" he breathed in and out. "Well… let's just go."

Roger opened the door and stepped back. Mark gasped. The roof had been completely transformed. There was no more graffiti on the sides and the floors were spotless. He had obviously worked his ass off. The oddest thing about it all was the little table at the center with two candles, two chairs, two beer bottles and two plates of pasta. It was oddly romantic, but coming from Roger, Mark knew it meant absolutely nothing. How could he play with his emotions like this?

"Rog, I…" he said walking around the sides and examining it all. "I don't know… what's going on?" he turned around to him. Roger was bright red and staring at his feet.

"Let's…um… let's eat, kay?" he stuttered. Mark stared. What was going on here?

"Kay." They both sat down at the table. This was more than awkward. Mark's heart was beating out of control. What was Roger implying?

Minutes passed without either one saying a thing. The silence was defining. Roger muttered some apology about the beer; Mark laughed and said it was okay, a hush fell over the roof.

After maybe twenty or twenty five minutes (Mark didn't have a working watch) Roger took a deep breath.

"Mark, this is going to…. I mean…. this is gonna sound weird… I mean, well, it's just that… I know you don't….but…"

"Rog, come out and say it, you know you can trust me, seriously." Mark said, staring at him, trying to keep his tone calm, trying to not think of what Roger could possibly be saying."

"Okay, Mark, so…" Roger took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I've known you for, what is it now… eight years? I mean, who the fuck would deal with me for that long? I wouldn't. I mean… you've just stayed with me through all the shit, through April, through the drugs through withdrawal through the hell I went through with Mimi... I wouldn't be alive without you. I don't understand how someone could be so caring and loving towards me, with me being a total asshole to them. It's just that, you never left, Mark, you never left me." his eyes filled with tears and his voice began to break. "Ever since I left for Santa Fe… I couldn't stop thinking about you and what you'd done for me. It was stuck on my fucking continence and I started to think about it and realized I felt something else besides guilt."

"What?" Mark held his breath…. did he justhear what he think he heard?

"Mark…." He breathed and swallowed hard. "Ilovou"


Roger took a deep breath, in and out, in and out. Closed his eyes, and opened them, staring straight at Mark.

"I love you."

Mark froze, melted, and basically died in two in and half seconds. He was completely speechless.

Roger looked down, embarrassed. "You don't say anything, I just told you that I love you, and you don't say anything." He took his and Mark's plates away and began to walk towards the door. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't of-"

But at that moment, he was cut off by Mark's lips hitting his, he was cut off by his brain basically exploding, but most importantly, he was cut off by a small whisper in his ear.

"I love you too Roger."

A/N- Don't you just love pure fluff? I know I do... rolls eyes at self for being so flipping sappy anyways... the line of Roger's that he says right after he tells Mark he loves him is from Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella (which was the 8th grade play I directed). So just giving credit where it's due...