BLACKOUT
----------------
Summary: This story takes place during the blackout last summer. What did our favourite bohemians do?
Disclaimer: Knock knock. Who's there? I don't know, but these characters aren't mine.
----------------
"What. The fuck." Roger Davis threw his head back and hit his head on the wall. "Ow."
"What was that?" Mimi Marquez poked her head out of the bedroom that she and Roger shared.
"I hit my head!" He replied, his voice much higher pitched than normal. He rubbed the back of his blonde head.
"No, I mean what happened to the lights, dumbass," she stuck her tongue out at him and sat next to him on the couch.
"I don't know. But I was watching Behind the Music! And then the power! It cut out! And it was a good one! It was KISS! KISS, Mimi!" Roger whined.
Mimi put her arm around Roger's shoulders. "Aw, baby, it's alright. Besides, would you rather watch Behind the Music or take advantage of the empty loft?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
Roger crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. "Behind the Music."
Mimi stood up and feigned sadness. "FINE! I'll just go and sit in the bedroom. ALONE!" She stomped off to their bedroom and slammed to door behind her. Roger rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked over to the bedroom. He opened the door, and sure enough Mimi was inside, sitting on the bed.
"Ms. Marquez, you are too astute." Roger said, sitting beside her.
"Yeah, well, what can I say? I've had practice. . ." She leaned in and kissed him, but was interrupted when Mark burst into the loft.
"Guys! This is insane! I was down the street, and all the power went out! In like, all of the buildings and everything!" He yelled to whoever would listen.
Mimi sighed and stood up, pulling Roger up with her. They walked out into the living room and greeted Mark.
"All of them?" Mimi asked, obviously more interested than Roger who was now pouting because Mark ruined the rest of his afternoon.
"Yeah! It's crazy! Building, stoplights, everything!" Mark walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, offering it to Mimi or Roger. "Before it gets warm?"
Roger grabbed the beer from him and sat down on the couch again, silently talking to himself. Mimi took a beer from Mark and sat next to Roger.
"What are you doing, Sweetie?"
"Praying for the power to come back on. If I'm not gonna get laid, I might as well get to watch Behind the Music."
Mimi shoved Roger and turned to Mark, who was seated on a chair near the couch. They began to talk. They talked about everything. Where they grew up, their families, old friends, aspirations. Even Roger joined in after realizing that praying for the TV to come back on wouldn't help since Behind the Music was over now, anyway.
A sharp knock at the door stopped their conversation, and it was then that the three friends realized that it was now dark out. Mark stood up and made his way towards the door. He opened it up, and barrelling in came Tom Collins, arms full of food and flashlights.
"I come bearing gifts!" He smiled. Mark realized that Collins reminded him of Santa Claus at that moment. He laughed to himself, and took some of the food out of his hands.
"Hey Collins, how are you?"
"Hot! What a time for the A/C to cut out!" his booming baritone voice filled the loft. "How are you guys holding up?"
"Good. We were just talking. What time is it anyway?" Mimi joined in, catching a flashlight that Collins had tossed at her.
Collins glanced down at his watch. "About 10."
"As in, at night?!" Roger asked, looking up very shocked.
"Yes, Roger. At night."
"Holy shit. We've been talking for like, five hours!"
"Way to do the math, man." Mark patted Roger's head.
"Shut up. Mimi says I'm precious, right?" he looked over at Mimi for help.
"That's right, Baby. You're precious." She laughed, patting Roger on the cheek. He smiled with an "I Told You So" expression on his face to the others.
The four laughed, all seated in the living room - Mimi and Roger on the couch, Collins, who "inherited" Mark's chair, ("That was my chair! This is a mutiny!" Mark had exclaimed) and Mark, who found a slightly less comfortable spot on the floor.
Another knock on the door interrupted the laughter. Collins got up to open the door, only to find Maureen and Joanne. Joanne smiled and greeted Collins with a kiss on the cheek, and Collins just gave Maureen a funny look. She was holding a dripping ice cream container in one hand and had a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
"Mo, what the hell are you doing?" Collins asked, laughing.
"It was melting." She replied through a mouthful of mint chocolate chip.
Collins shook his head. Still laughing, he went back to take a seat on his chair, only to find that Mark had reclaimed it "in the name of Markdom."
"Marky, you're such a dork!" Maureen squealed, holding her dripping ice cream over the sink, which continued to drop down her arm, covering her hands in green goop. "Can I get a little help here?" Everybody just continued to laugh.
"Seriously, a little help!" Maureen yelped as the container broke, and melted ice cream came pouring out all over arms and all over the counter. The laughter continued, loud and roaring.
Mimi stood up and quickly walked over to Maureen who was trying to push the ice cream into the sink with her hands. She didn't know what else to do, so she started pushing the ice cream with her hands, too.
Soon, the ice cream was (mostly) cleaned up, as were Mimi and Maureen who were sitting back in the living room with the rest of the gang. Collins had managed to wrestle the chair away from Mark, and while doing a small victory dance, had lost it to Mark again who claimed that this was "one small step for man, but one giant leap for Mark-kind." This won him much mocking from both Maureen and Roger.
After the laughter had finally died down, the six sat around the living room silently. Mark was on the chair, but had promised Collins he'd share it later. Collins was seated on the floor next to Maureen and Joanne, who had their arms around each other. Roger and Mimi were still on the couch, their hands linked together.
"I miss Angel," Mimi said quietly after several moments of silence.
"Me too." Maureen's small voice came from the floor.
"I think we all do, Honeybear." Joanne pulled Maureen closer to her.
"Remember the time he took you to that club, Mark?" Roger piped up.
"You mean the gay club? Yeah, I remember that." Mark turned a deep shade of crimson and covered his face with his hands.
"Aw, did little Marky Cohen get hit on by other men?" Mimi laughed.
"Yes. Several times!" Collins answered. "It was classic. The one time he wasn't filming!"
Mark took a stand. "Hey, at least I got some phone numbers!"
"What about that time she was trapping butterflies under her skirt in Central Park!" Maureen laughed.
"Or that Christmas when she gave us handmade gifts," Roger shook his head. "I got burned bread."
Everybody continued to laugh and reminisce about Angel, except for Collins. He just sat back with a smile on his face, memories of Angel flooding his mind.
Suddenly Mark stood up. "Let's go to the roof!" Everybody agreed it was a good idea. They all made their way up the stairs to the top of the building with their flashlights, occasionally saying something stupid in the dark ("I'm not wearing any underpants!").
The six friends sat on the roof, looking at New York City without lights.
"Let's tell ghost stories!" Roger exclaimed, suddenly very enthusiastic.
"What are you Rog, in grade four?" Mimi asked, wrinkling her nose at him.
"Yup!"
"Then clearly you have cooties, so I can't come near you." she replied, crawling away.
"Aw, we can risk it!" He pulled her back onto his lap and kissed her.
Collins cleared his throat. "I'll start!" He put his flashlight up to his face, giving off an eerie image. Maureen, sitting in between Mark and Joanne, grabbed both their hands. Mark swallowed and shut his eyes, mentally reminding himself that there is no such that as ghosts. Joanne kept her eyes intent on Collins' face. Roger poked at Mimi's ribs, making her jump in the air.
"Ok, now this is a true story. I swear. It happened to this guy I knew when I started teaching. Alright. It was a dark and stormy night . . ."
----------------
Summary: This story takes place during the blackout last summer. What did our favourite bohemians do?
Disclaimer: Knock knock. Who's there? I don't know, but these characters aren't mine.
----------------
"What. The fuck." Roger Davis threw his head back and hit his head on the wall. "Ow."
"What was that?" Mimi Marquez poked her head out of the bedroom that she and Roger shared.
"I hit my head!" He replied, his voice much higher pitched than normal. He rubbed the back of his blonde head.
"No, I mean what happened to the lights, dumbass," she stuck her tongue out at him and sat next to him on the couch.
"I don't know. But I was watching Behind the Music! And then the power! It cut out! And it was a good one! It was KISS! KISS, Mimi!" Roger whined.
Mimi put her arm around Roger's shoulders. "Aw, baby, it's alright. Besides, would you rather watch Behind the Music or take advantage of the empty loft?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him.
Roger crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. "Behind the Music."
Mimi stood up and feigned sadness. "FINE! I'll just go and sit in the bedroom. ALONE!" She stomped off to their bedroom and slammed to door behind her. Roger rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked over to the bedroom. He opened the door, and sure enough Mimi was inside, sitting on the bed.
"Ms. Marquez, you are too astute." Roger said, sitting beside her.
"Yeah, well, what can I say? I've had practice. . ." She leaned in and kissed him, but was interrupted when Mark burst into the loft.
"Guys! This is insane! I was down the street, and all the power went out! In like, all of the buildings and everything!" He yelled to whoever would listen.
Mimi sighed and stood up, pulling Roger up with her. They walked out into the living room and greeted Mark.
"All of them?" Mimi asked, obviously more interested than Roger who was now pouting because Mark ruined the rest of his afternoon.
"Yeah! It's crazy! Building, stoplights, everything!" Mark walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, offering it to Mimi or Roger. "Before it gets warm?"
Roger grabbed the beer from him and sat down on the couch again, silently talking to himself. Mimi took a beer from Mark and sat next to Roger.
"What are you doing, Sweetie?"
"Praying for the power to come back on. If I'm not gonna get laid, I might as well get to watch Behind the Music."
Mimi shoved Roger and turned to Mark, who was seated on a chair near the couch. They began to talk. They talked about everything. Where they grew up, their families, old friends, aspirations. Even Roger joined in after realizing that praying for the TV to come back on wouldn't help since Behind the Music was over now, anyway.
A sharp knock at the door stopped their conversation, and it was then that the three friends realized that it was now dark out. Mark stood up and made his way towards the door. He opened it up, and barrelling in came Tom Collins, arms full of food and flashlights.
"I come bearing gifts!" He smiled. Mark realized that Collins reminded him of Santa Claus at that moment. He laughed to himself, and took some of the food out of his hands.
"Hey Collins, how are you?"
"Hot! What a time for the A/C to cut out!" his booming baritone voice filled the loft. "How are you guys holding up?"
"Good. We were just talking. What time is it anyway?" Mimi joined in, catching a flashlight that Collins had tossed at her.
Collins glanced down at his watch. "About 10."
"As in, at night?!" Roger asked, looking up very shocked.
"Yes, Roger. At night."
"Holy shit. We've been talking for like, five hours!"
"Way to do the math, man." Mark patted Roger's head.
"Shut up. Mimi says I'm precious, right?" he looked over at Mimi for help.
"That's right, Baby. You're precious." She laughed, patting Roger on the cheek. He smiled with an "I Told You So" expression on his face to the others.
The four laughed, all seated in the living room - Mimi and Roger on the couch, Collins, who "inherited" Mark's chair, ("That was my chair! This is a mutiny!" Mark had exclaimed) and Mark, who found a slightly less comfortable spot on the floor.
Another knock on the door interrupted the laughter. Collins got up to open the door, only to find Maureen and Joanne. Joanne smiled and greeted Collins with a kiss on the cheek, and Collins just gave Maureen a funny look. She was holding a dripping ice cream container in one hand and had a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.
"Mo, what the hell are you doing?" Collins asked, laughing.
"It was melting." She replied through a mouthful of mint chocolate chip.
Collins shook his head. Still laughing, he went back to take a seat on his chair, only to find that Mark had reclaimed it "in the name of Markdom."
"Marky, you're such a dork!" Maureen squealed, holding her dripping ice cream over the sink, which continued to drop down her arm, covering her hands in green goop. "Can I get a little help here?" Everybody just continued to laugh.
"Seriously, a little help!" Maureen yelped as the container broke, and melted ice cream came pouring out all over arms and all over the counter. The laughter continued, loud and roaring.
Mimi stood up and quickly walked over to Maureen who was trying to push the ice cream into the sink with her hands. She didn't know what else to do, so she started pushing the ice cream with her hands, too.
Soon, the ice cream was (mostly) cleaned up, as were Mimi and Maureen who were sitting back in the living room with the rest of the gang. Collins had managed to wrestle the chair away from Mark, and while doing a small victory dance, had lost it to Mark again who claimed that this was "one small step for man, but one giant leap for Mark-kind." This won him much mocking from both Maureen and Roger.
After the laughter had finally died down, the six sat around the living room silently. Mark was on the chair, but had promised Collins he'd share it later. Collins was seated on the floor next to Maureen and Joanne, who had their arms around each other. Roger and Mimi were still on the couch, their hands linked together.
"I miss Angel," Mimi said quietly after several moments of silence.
"Me too." Maureen's small voice came from the floor.
"I think we all do, Honeybear." Joanne pulled Maureen closer to her.
"Remember the time he took you to that club, Mark?" Roger piped up.
"You mean the gay club? Yeah, I remember that." Mark turned a deep shade of crimson and covered his face with his hands.
"Aw, did little Marky Cohen get hit on by other men?" Mimi laughed.
"Yes. Several times!" Collins answered. "It was classic. The one time he wasn't filming!"
Mark took a stand. "Hey, at least I got some phone numbers!"
"What about that time she was trapping butterflies under her skirt in Central Park!" Maureen laughed.
"Or that Christmas when she gave us handmade gifts," Roger shook his head. "I got burned bread."
Everybody continued to laugh and reminisce about Angel, except for Collins. He just sat back with a smile on his face, memories of Angel flooding his mind.
Suddenly Mark stood up. "Let's go to the roof!" Everybody agreed it was a good idea. They all made their way up the stairs to the top of the building with their flashlights, occasionally saying something stupid in the dark ("I'm not wearing any underpants!").
The six friends sat on the roof, looking at New York City without lights.
"Let's tell ghost stories!" Roger exclaimed, suddenly very enthusiastic.
"What are you Rog, in grade four?" Mimi asked, wrinkling her nose at him.
"Yup!"
"Then clearly you have cooties, so I can't come near you." she replied, crawling away.
"Aw, we can risk it!" He pulled her back onto his lap and kissed her.
Collins cleared his throat. "I'll start!" He put his flashlight up to his face, giving off an eerie image. Maureen, sitting in between Mark and Joanne, grabbed both their hands. Mark swallowed and shut his eyes, mentally reminding himself that there is no such that as ghosts. Joanne kept her eyes intent on Collins' face. Roger poked at Mimi's ribs, making her jump in the air.
"Ok, now this is a true story. I swear. It happened to this guy I knew when I started teaching. Alright. It was a dark and stormy night . . ."
