Just A Little Bit of History Repeating, a rent fanfic

"Just A Little Bit of History Repeating"

Rating: PG for language
Pairing: None, really. But still Mark/Roger. :D
Genre: Fluff/General
Summary: Mark does not want to make that phone call. Pre-Rent.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, or the characters. Mur.

Notes: If it matters to anyone, this is so totally Tim!Roger and Chris!Mark. :) And it takes place a few days before Christmas eve.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Please, Roger? Please? Seriously, I'm begging you here ..."

Those words, Roger thought, spoken in another context could make for a very interesting afternoon. He simply stared at Mark's back as Mark leaned over the answering machine, looking terribly dejected. It was kind of cute, actually. Roger's lips quirked up in a little grin, letting his eyes travel a little lower -

Then he slapped a hand to his forehead, leaning into his palm. Holy fuck. That was not the context! God, it had been way too long when he started checking out his best friend's ass. And not just his best friend's ass, but Mark's ass. How hard up did you have to be to sink that low?

Roger knew he needed to make a change when he caught himself seriously regarding Mark's ass as if it was something that it was okay to stare at for prolonged periods of time. However, that level of horniness had to be some kind of good sign, right? Maybe it meant he was getting back to normal ...

Well. If you considered staring at asses you weren't really interested in getting 'normal'.

"No way, man." Roger shook his head from his place on the couch. "You're on your own."

Mark turned around, leaning the backside Roger had been so intently contemplating on the counter behind him. He looked to the ceiling, as if for help. "I'm serious. I've been through enough, I cannot handle this. There's no way."

Roger laughed at the slightly wild look in Mark's eyes. "I think it's about time you got over this, buddy."

Even more amusing than Mark's ass - stop it! - was the death glare he shot Roger's way. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you. And I am over her."

Unconcerned, Roger snorted, then shrugged. "Right. Look, you dated her. You got yourself into this mess. Not to mention," he continued, sending a little death glare of his own, "all my shit is a lot harder to get over than your shit."

Mark slumped forward, his chin nearly hitting his chest as he groaned - loudly. Roger chuckled again, and Mark's blazing eyes met his again.

"It is not funny," Mark hissed, which just made Roger want to laugh harder. But he managed to keep it to a minimum. "She knows. Last week when you fucking answered the phone and, even further in your incomprehensible stupidity, told her I was actually home and handed the phone to me, she could tell something was up." Mark's voice took on a high-pitched mocking tone. "Mark? What's wrong, Mark? Is something the matter? Tell me! I know something's wrong! Oh, god, it's a venereal disease, isn't it, Mark? One of those New York rats have given you a venereal disease!"

Mark looked at Roger, his eyes a good bit wilder than before, making Roger feel a little less like laughing. Mark looked kind of bonkers. "I don't want my parents to know about this - especially my mother. I mean, I know they'll have to find out. Eventually. But I cannot have that conversation, I can't tell my mother that I was left for another woman. Oh, god, I can hear it all now." Mark's face suddenly went slack, all the fire going out of his eyes as he put his head in his hands. "It would be so fucking distressing for both of us, in so many ways. Roger ..." Mark trailed off, staring at him pleadingly.

"I'll pay you."

Roger snorted, falling back into the couch. His spread his arms out challengingly. "And how are you gonna pay me, Mark? With what?"

Mark pushed off the counter behind him and started walking to his room. "I'll rob a bank," he muttered to himself, defeat in every footstep. "I'll mug somebody, god knows I've been mugged enough. I'd fucking sell myself to avoid this phone call ..."

Hmm. Another potentially very interesting scenario. Roger shook his head, laughing to himself again. He felt no pity for Mark, though. That's what you got for getting involved with Maureen.

- - - - - - - - - -

Roger wasn't totally sure what it was that woke him, but once his eyes were open and staring out at the surrounding darkness he could hear muted sounds coming from outside his door. It was obviously late - he hadn't gone to bed until after midnight, he knew.

More interested in whatever might be going on in the main room of the loft than in getting back to sleep - could Collins be back? - Roger slid out of bed and padded out of his bedroom, not meaning to be quiet but his bare feet making hardly any noise at all. So when he walked over to Mark - who had his back to Roger and who, for some unfathomable reason, had the receiver of the phone clutched by his ear - and spoke, he wasn't prepared for the reaction he got.

"Hey."

"Fuck!" Mark yelped and jumped a few feet in the air, whirling and landing a punch to Roger's gut before slamming the phone back down. He turned, his eyes wide, and as he took in Roger he slumped a little and laughed.

"The fuck was that for?" Roger held his stomach, grimacing. "That fucking hurt!"

"I'm sorry," Mark said, breathless and still laughing. "I just - you scared the shit out of me!" He looked at Roger, a brief look of concern passing over his face before he sneered. "Oh, like I really hurt you."

"You did," Roger groused, stepping back quickly when Mark reached out a hand towards him. "What are you doing, anyway? Did Collins call or something?"

Suddenly Mark's face closed off and he looked away, leaning against the counter. Roger stepped forward, forgetting about the punch and grinning. "... Mark? What were you doing?"

Looking down, Mark muttered something unintelligible. The look he shot Roger made it obvious that he'd meant it to be that way.

"What?"

Mark rolled his eyes at Roger's teasing tone. "Fine. I was calling my mother."

Roger peered over Mark's shoulder to see the time display on the answering machine. "You're calling your mother at two in the morning?"

"Yes."

Laughing, Roger shook his head. "You're kidding me. Why?"

"Because." Mark crossed his arms over his chest. "If I call now I can leave a message without worrying that anyone will pick up."

"Mark." He was cute, but he was an idiot. "The ringing could wake them up, you know."

"Yeah, but I could just hang up then. They don't have caller ID and they know - or assume, anyway - that I know better than to call this late."

"The perfect crime, huh?"

"Oh, don't be a smartass," Mark said crabbily. "If you'd just call for me I wouldn't have to worry about this shit."

Roger sighed. "Seriously, this is getting ridiculous. Generally you don't act like such a fucking teenager. Why don't you just suck it up and call your mother? Or," Roger grinned a trifle evilly. It felt good. "Even better, you could get Maureen to break the news."

Mark's shoulders loosened a little and he laughed. "I don't think so. Maureen doesn't like imparting anything that doesn't make her look good."

"So?"

Mark stared at him. "So what?"

"So why don't you just suck it up and call your mother?" Roger asked impatiently, looking towards his bedroom. This was getting less and less interesting.

Mark flushed and stared at his feet, mumbling again. Roger went to stand next to him and bumped Mark's shoulder with his own. "What was that?"

"I said, because it's happened before!" Mark burst out loudly, stepping away quickly.

Roger stared, his mouth twitching. "... What?"

"My high school girlfriend," Mark said, sounding annoyed as he flopped down onto the couch and covered his eyes with one arm. "She came out after we broke up."

Roger choked. "Oh. My god."

Mark peeked out from beneath his arm. "If you laugh, I will kill you."

Roger tried. He really did. But soon a laugh bubbled past his lips, and then he was helpless, cackling. But to his credit, trying to apologize between gasps for air.

"Oh, Mark, I'm sorry, I'm sorry ..."

Mark just resettled his arm across his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you, too."

Taking a deep breath - as deep as he could, anyway - Roger looked down at Mark, lying stretched out on the couch with a tight mouth. A sudden wave of affection for him swept over Roger. For a second he considered ignoring it, but then he strode forward. After all, at least it wasn't, for the first time in a few days, affection for Mark's ass.

Mark looked up at him warily as he approached. "What?"

Roger leaned forward, grabbing Mark's face and pulling him up a little before planting a quick warm kiss on his forehead. "You're cute." But he couldn't keep back a little snicker. "And you definitely make me feel better about my life."

The pleased look that had been on Mark's face vanished. "Oh, thanks."

"You're welcome." He ruffled Mark's hair and then yawned, turning back to his room. "And I'll call your mom tomorrow for you."

Mark sat up abruptly, his now-messy head popping up from behind the back of the couch. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Roger really couldn't help it; another little snicker escaped. "You were right. You've been through enough."