Author's Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! I know it has been a while since I did one of these, but I got RENT for Christmas and have watched it twice since. PS: If you haven't done so, check into the director commentary. It has Christ, Adam, and Anthony (LOVE) talking about the movie and it's touching, beautiful, hilarious, and a little sad. Also, the deleted scenes involving Benny knowing Angel killed the Akita and paying for her funeral anyway. Such a beautiful moment. Well, here you go – a late Christmas present from me to you. Enjoy! Oh, and it is rather obvious that I do not own RENT.
Summary: Angel drags Mark and Roger along with her on a "girls' day." Mani/pedis, shopping, boas, berets, and hilarity ensues.
"Hello?" Angel stuck her head through the door and looked into the loft, "Mimi?"
"She's at work," Roger put the guitar down and headed towards the door, "Come on in, Angel."
"Damn it," Angel hissed, dropping her pickle tub to the ground, "I was hoping we could have a girls' day or something."
"Girls' day?" Roger grimaced, "Sounds…fun."
"It is! We could have gone and gotten our nails done and gone shopping and out to eat. See, Collins is at work right now and well, I have nothing to do."
"Sorry?" Roger attempted to sound sincere. Honestly, he was trying to work on his song and the drag queen was interrupting. Not that he could ever be rude to Angel, he just wanted her to hurry and leave so he could get back to work.
"Hey! You aren't doing anything important, are you?"
"O-oh no," Roger held up his hands in surrender and backed away, "I am not going to go have a 'girls' day' with you, Angel. Not in a million years!"
"Fine, Horace Vandergelder, I will just have to go back to my lonely little apartment and try and find something to do…"
"Guilt won't work on me, Shunard," Roger grabbed his guitar from the couch and began to search for the chord he had struck before Angel had barged in.
"Angel!" Mark opened the door, and dropped his coat onto the hook, "I didn't know you were over."
"I was just leaving actually. See, I was hoping to have a girls' day with Mimi but she is at work and you're roommate over there is being a gilpoya and was in the process of throwing me out…"
"I was not!" Roger rolled his eyes, "Don't be such a drama queen, Angel."
"I am not being a drama queen, you are just being a dick."
Mark snickered and didn't even bother to hide his clear amusement at the situation.
"You think this is funny?" Roger tossed his guitar aside, "Fine then. Tell me what you want me to do? Do you honestly expect me to go and get my nails done and go shopping?"
"Why did I ask that? I should have never asked that!"
"What color do you want?" Angel asked, eying the stand of one hundred-or-so bottles of nail polish.
"I don't want a color. I want to go home."
"Oh don't be such a grouch," Mark patted him on the shoulder, "Besides, this might be fun."
"Seriously? Mark, look around! We are having a girls' day! Do you know what that will do to my reputation?"
"No one is going to care," Angel grabbed a bottle of bright blue, "Now pick out a color."
"What's with the blue all the time?" Mark asked.
"I like it," Angel turned the bottle over in her hands, "And it's different."
"You find color you like?" The manicurist asked.
"I did. I don't know about them," Angel nodded towards Mark and Roger.
"Do you have to get a color?" Roger asked.
"No, you can get just plain manicure – no color," the manicurist said through a thick accent, "Come, come. Have seat."
Angel, Mark, and Roger sat down next to each other at the manicure stations and let the manicurists get down to work.
"OW!" Roger hissed, "That hurt!"
"She's just plucking the cuticles," Angel rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a – what was the word? Drama queen?"
Mark laughed again, "Yeah, Rog – don't be such a…"
"Don't finish that sentence," Roger glared threateningly towards his best friend, "Is it almost over?"
"We're just getting started. She has to pluck off the dead skin and then use the buffer and then give you a massage with hot lotion and oils and then…"
"You scare me," Roger said pointedly to Mark.
The manicurists were almost through when Roger realized he was starting to like being pampered. The hot lotions and oils felt amazing and he began to wonder when the last time Mimi had treated herself to this kind of special treatment.
"Enjoying yourself?" Angel raised an eyebrow.
"I think I am," Roger nodded, "It's nice – relaxing."
"Wait until we get to the pedicure part."
"Pedicure," Angel grinned.
"All done, honey. You go take seat by tub."
Angel hopped up from the fluffy, overly-stuffed chair, and headed towards one of the massage chairs. She plopped her feet into the tub of hot water and let out a comfortable sigh.
"She looks happy," Mark said as Roger glared at the manicurist who was now buffing his nails.
"Yeah well I am glad she's enjoying this. This shit hurts!"
"You're just not used to it," Angel called.
Mark was now done with his manicure and was making his way towards one of the empty chairs next to Angel. He had to admit, the hot water felt divine as he placed his feet into the tub.
"This is nice."
"I am glad you like it," Angel grinned, "Are you glad you came with me?"
"It's not as bad as I thought it'd be," Mark said honestly, "I don't know how he feels about it though." Roger was now hobbling over towards the tub and threw his feet inside, sending water splashing over the edges.
"He liked the hot lotion," Angel reminded, "Didn't you, Rog?"
"My cuticles are bleeding!"
"It's called lotion, hun. You might want to invest in a bottle," Angel smirked towards Mark, "If he thought that was bad, I can hardly wait to see how he tolerates this."
"What?" Roger's eyes practically popped from their sockets, "What do you mean? What are they going to do to me?"
"Well," Angel grinned again, "First, they are going to let your fee soak in the bath sugars, and then they are going to use a scrub to get off some of the dead skin. Next, they will use a sponge to scratch away some of the dead skin and put more lotion on. Then, you're feet will soak in bags of hot wax to moisturize them and then they will clip you up, trim you up, and give you a massage with hot stones."
"Mmm," Mark sighed, leaning back into his seat, "Sounds…"
"Say divine and I am finding a new roommate," Roger warned, "Ah! The chair is moving!"
"Of course it is, honey," Angel smirked, "It's a massage chair."
"Is it supposed to be doing this?"
"Yes," Angel grabbed the remote from the arm of his chair, "Just adjust it like this. Is that better?"
"Mmhmm," Roger sighed, leaning into the chair, "A lot better." He had to admit, it did feel relaxing. Angel sure knew how to treat herself. And the manicure wasn't that bad. And this hot water felt really good. He almost started to feel bad for being such an asshole earlier.
The pedicurists came over and began to pour the bag sugars into the tub. Angel and her pedicurist began to talk about the weather and the weekend and that how she had successfully convinced her friends to come with her today.
Roger was really starting to enjoy himself until his foot was yanked out of the water. The pedicurist was beginning to scratch away the dead skin.
"Ah! Stop!" Roger twitched in his chair.
"Problem, love?" Angel asked.
"Baby," Angel hissed, "How are you making it, Mark?"
"Fine," Mark said honestly, "It doesn't bother me. Roger is just being a drama…"
"You're a….a…dead…man!" Roger threatened between giggles, "Wh-when…will…it…be…over?"
"In a little while," Angel said, calmly, "Just relax."
"RELAX? Are you…are…you…insane?"
"It really isn't that bad," Angel smirked, "Maybe you're just sensitive."
The pedicurist started to work on Roger's toes reducing him to a puddle of giggles and pleas. Finally, the pedicurist (who wore an expression of both fright and amusement) stopped and began to massage his legs with the hot lotion.
"Now this isn't so bad, is it?" Mark asked, rather enjoying himself.
"No…I guess not," Roger nestled into the chair, "This is…nice."
"Told you," Angel smirked, "Now she's going to go and get the hot wax."
"Will this hurt?"
"No," Angel shook her head, "The heat is a bit of a shock, but it cools down pretty quickly and you will adjust."
"AHHH!" Both Mark and Roger shouted as their feet entered into the bags of hot wax.
"WHAT THE HELL?" Roger hissed, "Angel – you are so dead!"
"What did I do?" Angel laughed, amused, "It's not my fault you are such a baby."
"I am not a…oh…oh wow…this is…nice."
"Isn't it?" Angel leaned her head against the chair, "How are you doing over there, Mark?"
"I like it. This is nice."
"Told you so."
After the pedicures, the trio headed out of the salon. Roger had his arms folded across his chest, not quite wanting to admit how much he had enjoyed himself – despite the torture.
"Where to next?" Mark asked.
"Shopping!" Angel squealed, grabbing his hand and dragging him into a shop along the sidewalk.
"What is this place?" Mark asked, glancing around the store.
"What the fuck?" Roger picked up a hot pink boa.
"It's a boa," Angel wrapped it around his neck, "Sexy!"
"You're pushing it, Ange," Roger took off the fluffy pink thing and put it back on the stand, "Where the hell are we?"
"A costume shop," Angel skipped off down one of the aisles, "It's one of my favorite stores."
The guys could see why. Everywhere they turned, there were dresses and boas and ribbons and glitter and glitz. It was Angel-Haven.
Suddenly they heard a squeal and rushed over to see Angel absolutely fawning over a pink sequin mini-dress.
"This would look so cute with my Pussy Galore boots!"
"Don't you have one like that already?" Roger asked, "Why do you need two?"
"It's not exactly like my other one," Angel rolled her eyes, "And look – it comes with a matching purse!"
"You girls and your clothes," Roger leaned against a shelf.
"Roger! You're a genius!"
"Wha…I mean, of course! Glad to know someone notices…"
"Look!" Angel pushed past him to the shelf he had been leaning against, "This would look perfect on you!"
"What the fuck is that?"
"It's a beret! If you wear it, you would look like one of those French models…"
"I am not putting that on!"
"Yes you are," Angel grabbed it off the shelf and plopped onto his head, "Hot!"
"I feel like a fruit."
"But a sexy fruit like a strawberry, not a nasty-looking fruit like a kiwi or something."
Roger rolled his eyes and went to take the beret off, earning himself a slap to the hand, "OW!"
"It looks good, you're keeping it."
"He looks like those mimes in the park," Mark said.
"Not helping," Angel hissed.
"But a…a hot mime?" Mark tried to save himself.
"Keep digging and you'll reach China!" Angel grabbed his hand and dragged him off to another aisle – a begruntled Roger following behind, beret still in place.
"Now this will be perfect for you," Angel grabbed a bright red, sequin scarf off of a hook, "Try it on!"
"So?" Angel wrapped it around his neck, "See? It's perfect."
Mark glared at his reflection in one of the mirrors hanging above the hook, "I guess…"
"There ya go," Angel grinned, "We each found something."
"You mean I have to wear this in public?" Roger pointed angrily towards the beret.
"Of course, silly? What's the point if no one can see it?"
"Isn't there something else we can find for me?"
"There's always the boa."
"I'm fine with the beret."
Angel insisted upon paying for everything and they headed out the door.
"So, what do you two think of girls' days?" Angel asked as they headed down the sidewalk.
"I liked it," Mark said, "Thanks, Ange."
"Of course you would like girls' day, Marky," Roger rolled his eyes.
Back at the loft, Mark thanked Angel again and excused himself to finish up some filming. Something told him that Roger and Angel needed to talk. Just the two of them. Something was up.
"So what was that all about today?" Angel asked, plopping her purse to the ground.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why were such a jerk today? First when I came over, then during the manicures, and then after shopping. All day today, you've been a jerk and I don't like it."
"Well then, leave."
"Maybe I will."
Angel grabbed her purse and her pickle tub and was about to head out the door when Roger stopped her.
"Wait. Don't go yet."
She turned around and waited.
"I-I was a jerk today and I am sorry. I guess I am just not quite used to this yet."
"To me," Angel corrected.
Roger walked over towards her and led her towards the couch, "Sit."
She did as she was told and waited for an apology – or at least an explanation.
"Angel, before I met you, I was a jerk – I mean, really a jerk. I spouted off the f-word…"
"The other one. The one that people use to you."
"Oh," Angel's eyes fell.
"Yeah. I made fun of people like you, and I used to say gay guys weren't real men. I used to be a jerk to them. I see the way you walk down the sidewalks, and I hear their words. I see how much it hurts you."
"Hold on. I know you got a mouth on you, but at least let me finish."
Angel couldn't help but smile.
"Now then, seeing you today and seeing myself getting manicures and pedicures and wearing boas and berets – it was a bit much. I need to adjust to this. Angel, whenever I look at you, I remember what I used to be like. I don't want to be that way again."
"You aren't. Remember a few weeks ago, when you told that guy to go fuck himself because he was harassing me? You stood up for me, Roger. I know you need to adjust, and I understand."
"I shouldn't have treated you like that today though."
"It's fine. Next time, will be better."
"You're making it up to me. Next week, we're going to go get facials and see a chick flick and…"
"You owe me," Angel smirked, skipping over to her purse and pickle tub, "Adios!"
"Thank you for today. I needed it."
"Well, sometimes we all need a girls' day, don't we love?"
"Yeah," Roger nodded sincerely, "I did."