A/N: I love me some Roger/Mimi. They're so adorable! I just recently discovered RENT and holy crap; I love it so, so, so much. My favorite song is What You Own. I love Roger and Mark's friendship!
But you didn't come here to read my preferences. You came here to get some fluff! And fluff you shall get. (:
"My throat! My throat is closing up! Maaahrrr—" Roger clawed at his neck, eyes bugging, as he sunk to the floor. He lay there, twitching.
Mark was unimpressed as he aimed his camera at Roger. "Maureen you are not. Get up." He nudged his best friend, who was now in the fetal position, with his foot.
Roger glared at Mark. "I was good. Admit it. I was good. I could be in, like, The Sound of Music."
"Close on Roger, who would be an excellent nun in The Sound of Music."
"Low blow, dude."
"Try it again. I have faith in you."
Roger scowled and sat Indian-style. He took a deep breath and said, in monotone, "Mimi, you know I love you. We've been living together for a long time. And… and I was wondering if you'd like to live with me forever? Marry me?"
Mark clapped. "And then you whip out… the ring!" He finished this due to a stare from Roger with a sharpness usually reserved for cutting diamonds. "Uhm, but, yeah, good stuff, Roger. I felt it. In my heart."
"You make me want to kill small animals."
"So when does Mimi get home from work?"
"10 o'clock. This gives you…" he glanced at his watch, "49 minutes to get out of here."
"That's plenty of time." Mark angled his camera at what he assumed was an edgy point-of-view. "So. Roger. How do you think it's gonna feel? Getting married? Soon you're gonna have little Latin Mogers or Rimis running around the loft." He looked around. "You know, you might want to start childproofing. This isn't exactly the safest place for littluns, what with the hotplate and the stove. The baby could fall right in there."
Roger's eyes were approximately silver-dollar-sized. Mark cleared his throat. "But that'll never happen. You know. Because you'll be such a good father."
Roger shook his head. "This is such a bad idea. Why did I let you talk me into this?"
"Because you love her. You lit her candle. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. You know how it goes."
"Are you enjoying this?"
"Absolutely I am. And so are the folks at home!"
After throwing a pillow at Mark, Roger rehearsed the speech a few more times in his mind, editing once or twice or seven times.
It had come time for Mimi to return home. Roger shoved Mark out of the loft and threatened to melt his camera on the hotplate should Mark interrupt them.
He tidied up in the five minutes before Mimi came in the door. She beamed, though she looked tired and weary. "It looks great in here, Rog!"
He smiled. "Thanks. I try."
She came over to him and wrapped her arms around his waste. "You're so cute," she muttered as she kissed him. "Why are you so cute?"
He took a strand of her hair and put it behind her ear. "Well, my grandmother was Swedish, and my grandfather was a tiny little bunny."
She laughed and squeezed herself to him. "You're amazing! I love you so much!"
"I… I love you too, Meems." He was beginning to get nervous all over again. It was obvious to him that it was now or never if he ever wanted to marry her. And he did. Very badly.
He broke the hug. "Mimi?"
She looked up at him. "Yeah?"
"I… I was…"
Mimi frowned. "You were what, Roger?"
"Uhm…" He bit the inside of his cheek. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind marrying me too much?" He got the ring out of his jacket pocket and held it out to her, awkwardly. So much for his speech.
She gaped. "Roger! I— Absolutely! Of course I'll marry you!"
She snatched the ring excitedly, threw herself on him, and kissed him, making him stumble back a few steps. But they were cut short by the cheering and whooping coming from his window. He turned in disbelief to see Mark, Collins, Maureen, and Joanne all clapping and whistling approvingly.
"Technically," Mark yelled through the dirty glass, "I didn't interrupt your proposal! I interrupted the post-proposal make-out session. Doesn't count."
Roger rolled his eyes, but Mimi laughed. "Best. Night. Ever."
