DRAGGED INTO IT

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I DO NOT KNOW WHY I AM OBSESSING WITH RENT TRUTH OR DARE GAMES BUT I AM. MAYBE IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH MY DAY BEING COMPLETE HELL AND THESE MAKE ME SMILE. ENJOY! OH, RENT ISN'T MINE!

RATED T FOR LANGUAGE AND OTHER THINGS :)


"What are you doing?" Mark eyed the bottles of clear liquid suspiciously as Roger carefully opened them, without making a mess – well, not too much of a mess.

"Look, Mimi is working tonight and I am bored and stuck home alone with you…"

"Hey!"

"And I think we need to make us some entertainment."

"What do you have in mind?" Mark asked nervously as Roger carried the two bottles over to the couch.

"Just the usual illegal and immoral shenanigans that will most likely get us hauled away to prison." Mark's eyes widened causing Roger to laugh, "Kidding, Mark. Chill, okay? You're wound too tight. Just relax."

"I can't relax," Mark reminded him, "when you got that look like you're up to no good."

"I just want to play a game."

"Oh no," Mark inched away from his friend, "You stay far the fuck away from me, got it?"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"For who?" Mark demanded to know, "If I remember right, last time you wanted to play a little game, I wound up in the snow, stark-naked except for tinsel hanging down my waist. Yup, tons of fun."

"Hey, I thought it was. And my Aunt Fay really enjoyed the Christmas card."

Mark glowered. He still couldn't believe Roger had taken a picture of him out there AND used it for the cover of his Christmas cards – which were sent out to about a dozen family members, including Aunt Fey.

"Almost gave the poor woman a heart attack."

"You know she wanted me," Mark played along, "So, tell me – what do you want to do?"

"I dunno."

"Yes you do. You brought two bottles of Vodka over here and you have that creepy I'm-up-to-something-and-I-scare-small-children look."

"I do not!" Roger feigned hurt, "We could play…truth or dare?"

"Honestly?" Mark asked, "Honestly! What are you, some thirteen year old girl? What are you going to do next? Scream 'OMG!' and run around?"

"You're weird," Roger took a swig from his bottle, "Come on. This could be interesting."

"Interesting for you. I have the feeling I am going to end up on another embarrassing Christmas card giving dear Aunt Fey another fit."

Roger rolled his eyes, "Truth or dare?"

"You really are doing this?"

"Truth or dare."

"Fine. Truth."

"Weenie head."

"What the hell? The game is called Truth or Dare – I have options."

"Not when you're with me."

"So then why did you call it truth or dare?"

"Just shut up and do what I tell you."

"I don't think I like this game," Mark admitted, taking a drink from his bottle.

"I dare you to…to…go over to Mrs. Jenkins apartment and tell her 'have you seen my willy.' Butt-naked by the way."

"Ha!" Mark laughed, "Not in a million years, Rog."

"Fine then. Call up Ange and tell her that you want her to give you a makeover."

"No! If I say that, he'll march up here with his little makeup get and go to work. I'll be fru-fru by the end of the night!"

"Do it!"

"Fine," Mark grabbed the phone and dialed Angel's number.

"Hello?"

"Angel? This is Mark."

"Hi, love!"

"Uh…hi," Mark blushed, still not used to Angel quite yet, "Um…I want you to give me a makeov…"

"I'll be right there!"

Mark hung up the phone, "Damn it."

"What?" Roger asked.

"He's coming over."

"She," Roger corrected.

"What?"

"She is coming over."

"You always called Angel he," Mark scowled, now feeling like a complete and utter douche for being the only one of their group to still refer to Angel as a guy. He couldn't help it, that's just how he was. He loved Angel – adored her even – but he still couldn't make himself feel comfortable with her.

"Yeah well…" Roger shrugged, "Don't matter who or what she is anyways, does it?"

"No, I guess not."

A few minutes later, there was a loud bang on the door. Mark answered it to see Angel standing there, a bag full of what he assumed was makeup. Her black wig was tucked behind her ear and decorated with a unicorn barrette and she was wearing hot pink zebra tights and a black leather skirt and a lime green sweater.

"Have no fear – Angel Dumott Shunard la fashionista is here!" Angel pranced past Mark and into the living room of the loft, "Ooh! Vodka – yummy!"

"Get your own!" Roger said, turning away from her, hiding his bottle. A pout from Angel and a bat of those eyelashes convinced him otherwise Begrudgingly, he handed her his bottle and she took a swig. "Damn!"

"A girl's gotta know how to hold her liquor. Now, come to the bathroom Mark and we'll get you all fixed up."

Roger was practically laughing so hard his sides split.

"Don't worry, love. You're next."

"HA!" Mark pointed before following Angel into the bathroom.

"So, what brought on this sudden make-over?"

"A dare, actually," Mark admitted.

"Oh."

"I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?"

"Oh no. I love only getting invited over because of a dare."

"Angel…"

"I'm kidding," she laughed, patting him gently on the cheek, "So, I am thinking blue eye shadow…"

"Hell no."

"Oh come on," Angel grinned, "It'll look cute."

She quickly noticed how uncomfortable this made Mark and apologized, "Look, sweetie, I didn't mean to make you freak out. I really don't know how to act around you. I forget you don't always like who I am."

"Angel, that's not true! You're amazing, I just need time to adjust."

"And I know just the perfect way to help. Come on, you're wearing blue eyeliner!"

"Angel!"

"I don't take no," she reminded him.

About ten minutes later – filled with mascara, eyeliner, lip stick, lip gloss, blush, and laughter – they headed back out to the living room.

"Sexy," Roger grinned, seeing his friend, "If you were a girl and if I were single I'd do you."

"Okay, that's weird," Mark shuttered, "Now get off your ass and let this beautiful Angel have her way with you," Mark grabbed Angel's hand and twirled her around. For some reason, in those few minutes, something had changed. He wouldn't have done that earlier – wouldn't have even imagined it.

Angel giggled and grabbed Roger's hand, "Come on, let's go!"

She dragged the drunk and slurring Roger to the bathroom and began to get to work.

"So I am here on a dare?" She raised an eyebrow, working on his eye shadow. Of course, Roger was too out of it to really notice.

"Yeah but I am glad…you're here…Angel…Angel…Angel…Gel…Hair gel…Shampoo…"

"Ookay," Angel giggled, "How much did you drink?"

"Just…a sipy…or….twoooo!"

"Or three or four or maybe more," Angel played along, still working on the makeup.

"Do I look pwetty like you, Angel?"

"Maybe even 'pwettier,'" She smirked.

"No one could be pwettier than you."

"You're flirty when you're drunk and if Collins hears of this talk, he'll kick your scrawny white ass."

"He…wuvs wu."

"I know."

"So much."

"And I love him too."

"He's…happy."

"I am too."

"I like jello."

"Of course you do."

Angel couldn't help but smile as she did the last minute touches on his makeup.

"There you go," she turned him to face his reflection, "Gorgeous, Rog."

"I look goooood in drag."

"Of course you do."

Angel led him out to the living room.

"Hey guys, since I got in on this whole truth or dare thing, I dare you two to hug."

"Hug?"

"Yes, do it!"

They did, suspiciously but drunk enough to not really care. Angel grabbed her camera from her bag and snapped a picture.

"You two are so cute! Let me know when the wedding is!"

THE NEXT DAY

"Hahahahahahahaha, good one, Ange," Collins laughed.

"Look at that, my baby looks so sexy in his blue eye shadow," Mimi giggled.

"What are you guys looking at?" Mark asked as he and Roger walked over to the huddle, "What the hell?"

"I didn't know you two had those kinds of feelings for each other…"

"We…we don't!"

"Pictures never lie," Angel giggled.

"Oh, you are so dead!" Both boys shouted together, turning on the queen of drag.

"Bring it! I DARE you!"

Uh-oh, Angel regretted her words as they began to chase her around the living room.

"You'll pay!"

"Hey, you're the ones that asked me to do it."

"But we were drunk!"

"So?" Angel giggled as they grew hot on her heels.

"So, you can't take us seriously when we're drunk," Roger pointed out.

"Maybe, but there's one thing I can take."

"What's that?" Mark asked, growing closer.

"Pictures!"

"You're dead, girl!" Roger charged.

"You know," Angel giggled again, "These pictures would make perfect Christmas cards…"