Disclaimer: Anything characters you recognize aren't mine. And Orangey is borrowed with permission from Parsley Pinwheel.

AN: Yay! My second fic is finally posted, it only sat in my binder for a month. Please excuse all spelling mistakes, I try to catch them all before I post, but sadly it doesn't always happen.

Mark curled into a tight ball on the couch wishing he could die, or at least until winter was over. Not many people knew about this deep loathing of the season he harbored. Sure, the snow was nice, as was the cooler weather, but screw the flu season, it ruined the entire season for the film maker. It was a given that no matter how hard he tried to avoid getting it, every blasted year Mark would catch the flu.

He muttered a string of curses to whatever greater power was laughing at him and enjoying his misery as he pulled the blankets tighter around his small frame.

Mark wasn't sure how much time had passed, but finally he heard the door opening.

"Rog?" His voice was raspy as he called out.

"Just a sec Mark," came the reply.

Mark pouted and retreated further into his cocoon of blankets while he waited. And waited. And waited.

"Roger!" He whined.

Laughing the musician walked around the couch to where Mark could see him, and coming over to the couch, Roger plopped down and pulled the smaller man into his arms.

"Okay, so where did I leave off?" He asked laughter evident in his voice.

Mark screwed up in face as he though for a moment.

"She was just about to go to the ball," a very enthusiastic muffled reply came.

Roger chuckled at his lover's excitement over the children's story. Mark had an odd habit of reverting to acting like a little kid when he was sick, especially when he had the flu. Over the years Roger had gotten used to taking care of the little Mark and also, much to his dismay, telling him children's stories. He now knew at least sixteen stories by heart.

Mark whined when the silence went on too long for his liking, and the sound pulled Roger back to reality.

"Okay, so, Cinderella sat in the kitchen tending to the fire when a single tear made its way do-"

He was interrupted by a raspy voice, "You already told me that part! She was in the carriage at the palace about to get out!"

Roger rolled his eyes.

"Fine, Cinderella looked out the window at the castle looming in front of her, butterflies in her stomach. Just then the door to the carriage opened and a hand was offered to help her out. She reached at and..."

Roger continued the story, smiling when he felt Mark snuggle closer to him and glaring at the orange cat that decided that it wanted to hear the story also.

"Mark?" Roger questioned quietly.

Getting no response Roger smiled and closed his eyes knowing he needed to get whatever rest he could before the Jewish boy wake, demanding the rest of the story. Yawning the musician adjusted his position to get more comfortable, and ended up nearly getting clawed by the small cat that he almost squashed in the process.

"Roger? Roger, I'm bored. Roger! Wake up! You have to tell me what happens next!" The voice rasped through his dreams, waking the man up.

Opening his eyes, Roger started. Staring at him were two pairs of eyes, one blue pair framed by glasses, and the other, green, framed by orange fluff. The innocence in both pairs was fake, and with a sigh Roger sat up.

'Here we go again.' He thought to himself before he launched into another chapter of Cinderella.