Disclaimer: You are what you own. I am not Rent. Therefore, I do not own Rent.

A/N: I'll probably just make this a somewhat fluffy series about Collins, Roger, and Mark having their little sophomoric snow wars.

Mark stumbled out of his bedroom, groggy from just waking up, clad in only a wifebeater and a stolen pair of Roger's plaid pants, despite the frigid atmosphere of the loft. He spotted a plate of pancakes on the table, luring him towards them with their somewhat pleasing scent. Stomach growling like an irritated beast, Mark approached the pancakes cautiously, then picked one up, sniffing at it. The pancakes looked innocent enough, but Mark had learned many times before that looks could be deceiving. Whether they were good or bad all depended on who made them.

Mark took a timid bite and, to his dismay, crunched a bit of eggshell embedded within the fatefully unfortunate mouthful. Roger must have whipped up this batch, but whether he had intended to poison Mark with salmonella or just randomly make breakfast was unclear. Wincing as he reluctantly swallowed the lump of only partially cooked pancake batter, Mark glanced around the loft. "Hey Rog, are you awake?" he called into the silence, disposing of both the plate and its contents, as though the pancakes were so horrid they had contaminated the dish beyond repair. "We need to have a talk about these pancakes."

Little did our dear little Marky know that his roommate was very much awake, as was Collins, and both of the older men were crouched beneath the table. Somehow, either as a result of his natural lack of common sense or the fact that he hadn't put his glasses on yet, Mark had failed to notice the two as they whispered and giggled to one another like gossiping preteens, though the two collectively wore fifty pounds of winter clothing and stood out quite a bit. Mark's oblivion had finally worked to their advantage.

Roger was the first to venture out, slinking like a snake along the kitchen floor towards his victim, who had his back to him as he hovered over the garbage can, carefully observing the pancakes lest they mutate and come alive. Collins followed soon after, and the two were mere inches away from Mark while Collins said, "Wait for it… wait for it…"

Mark jumped at the sound of Collins's voice, and he didn't have enough time to even acknowledge their presence before the two boys sprang, Roger grabbing Mark's wrists and holding them firmly to keep him from squirming. Totally disoriented, Mark felt his legs give way beneath him, and Collins snatched this opportunity to grab hold of them. Mark's roommates then proceeded to lug him out the door and down the stairs, carrying him as though he were a human sacrifice.

Once outside, the two men brought him to a side street, where sidewalk shovelers had failed to notice the accumulation of snow there. Mark's attackers were earning peculiar looks from the strangers they passed, and a few people even paused to watch the two men curiously as they carried the skinny and scantily-clad blonde to an unknown, but most likely cruel, fate.

Roger stationed himself before the ally, eyeballing the particularly large mound of snow only feet away. Collins laughed in a demonic tone as he tightened his grip around Mark's ankles. Mark simply went limp in their grip, knowing that any further struggle would be a fruitless attempt to free himself. He let out what resembled a squeak when Collins's spoke. "Ready Roger?"

From Mark's awkward point of view, he could just make out the guitarist's mischievous grin. "I've been ready all morning."

"Well then, let's get this over with," Collins said, beginning to swing Mark. "One."

This was Mark's cue to scream; the sound came out embarrassingly high. "Two," Roger said, swinging Mark as well.

"Three!" the two shouted together, simultaneously releasing Mark, who became airborne and soared towards the enormous snow pile, shrieking the entire time.

Mark hit the snow with a soft thud and immediately vanished beneath its surface, leaving only an imprint of himself behind. Collins burst out laughing the very second Mark made contact with the mound, but Roger had managed to contain himself, merely showing his amusement with a goofy, crooked smile. As soon as Collins calmed down a bit, Roger turned his eyes to the pile of snow, slightly larger now, as it began to move a little. "Now that that's settled," he said slowly, pulling his lips back into a malicious, almost wolf-like grin. "Let's make sure he stays in there."

---

Mimi had stepped out of the apartment building to observe the snow that had amassed overnight, sipping at a mug of coffee. She heard scattered laughter off to her right and was surprised to find that a crowd had gathered at the mouth of the alleyway. Curious as to what all the commotion was about, she stepped over daintily, without any shoes or slippers on.

"What's going on?" she asked, but the group had begun to disperse, having filled their quota for the day's amusement and getting back to their lives' normal activities.

Mimi pushed past the handful of people that remained and peered into the alley, appalled to find that Roger, his nose and cheeks now red from such long exposure to the cold, was patting down an unusually shaped pile of snow as Collins kicked up more snow at the mound, as though he were a dog burying a bone. "Roger Davis!" Mimi shouted, the volume of her voice rising with each consecutive word. "What on earth are you doing out here in the cold?"

Roger spun around, his smiling face reduced to a face of sheer guilt. He stood up, taking a few steps towards Mimi like a dog with its tail between its legs, fearing punishment and knowing it was inevitable. Sensing his nervousness, Mimi knew at once he had done something wrong, and she began to walk towards him, stopping by the mound and staring him straight in the eyes. "H-hey, baby," he said nervously, averting his gaze from her's to Collins, who ceased to push more snow on the pile and stood up as well. "We just decided to, uh, you know… enjoy the snow?"

"You hate the sn-" Mimi paused mid-sentence, glancing at the pile she had previously disregarded as it began to tremble. "Earthquake?" she blurted out.

Roger turned towards the mound, a look of faux shock on his face, hoping it would convince Mimi he had nothing to do with it. "Oh my God," he exclaimed as the mound exploded into a flurry of powdery snow, revealing a nearly blue Mark, who rushed towards the first source of warmth: Mimi.

Before Mimi knew what had struck her she was clutching a violently shuddering Mark against her. Taking a few seconds to come to her senses, then a few more to wonder how Roger and Collins could possibly be so stupid, Mimi snapped at Roger. "What the hell is WRONG with you?" she exclaimed, petting Mark on the back of the head as though he were some poor animal tortured by the two savages that stood before her.

Collins was nearly in hysterics; it was his idea in the first place, and Roger was the one getting in trouble, even though Collins didn't mind a little scolding now and then. Roger, on the other hand, saw the situation as anything but funny. His victim was now in his girlfriend's embrace, and he felt the scalding stab of anger. He began to tremble with the effort of holding it back, but Mimi mistakenly took this involuntary action as a sign of oncoming hypothermia. "I can't believe the stupidity of you men," she said, earning another laugh from Collins and nothing but intense silence from Roger. "Now get inside before you two turn into icicles. People like us shouldn't even be out in the cold."

Still trembling, Mark clutched onto Mimi, just vaguely aware of who she was; he could have been clinging to a random passerby and he wouldn't care, as long as he had someone or something to leech warmth from. Mimi simply kept her arms wrapped around him as she made her way back to the apartment, with coos of "poor baby", leaving Roger and Collins to follow. Collins slapped Roger on the back, but Roger, who was still struggling to keep his anger down, smacked his hand away. "Chill dude," Collins said, taking no offense to the action. "Heh… get it? Chill?"
It was so stupid it was actually funny. Roger laughed a little, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen a bit. "That asshole," Roger said, a little jokingly, but a little serious as well.

"The snow's not going away anytime soon," Collins said. "There will always be a chance to get your revenge."

"Hmm… you're right," Roger mused aloud, his voice slow and deliberate. "We'll need to strategize. I'll call you tonight and we can come up with a plan."

"I like that idea," Collins said, pausing a while to stroke his chin; a smirk then crept onto his face. "Let the snow wars begin."

Roger smirked slyly, saying nothing in reply, but simply walked out of the alley.