One day, I decided to write a little preRENT fic that was funny. Granted, it may not actually be that funny, but, heeey, it makes me smile. So, after sharing it with the livejournal community, I've decided to share this with you guys.
Disclaimer: I totally don't own RENT. Jonathan Larson totally does.
Mark and Maureen. God, what a couple.
Roger sat down, a cup of coffee in his hands. He was ruffled from sleep, still half in a daze. He glanced at Mark's door with disdain. These walls were paper thin, and Roger was having enough trouble getting to sleep as it was. And Roger got moody when he didn't get his beauty sleep.
Granted, Roger was always sort of moody, but not getting sleep put Roger in a bad-moody-kinda day.
Maureen opened the door, yawning. She threw her arms out, stretching them, and then let them fall loosely at her sides. She walked up to the table where Roger currently sat, scratching her head before scrounging through the cabinets to find a mug. "Any more coffee left?"
"Meh," Roger said, bringing the coffee to his lips. Black. Usually he put something in it, maybe a little bit of cream, a pinch of sugar, but Roger was not feeling like having anything sweet to drink. Roger was pissed. And Maureen seemed to catch on instantly.
"Didn't get your beauty sleep, Mr. Davis?" she taunted, pouring the dark liquid into the mug. "Are we in a bad mood today? Did little ickle Roger get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" Roger glared at her as she sat down, smiling. She knew how to push his buttons.
"Yes, little ickle Roger got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning because someone was screaming his roommate's name all last night." Roger calmly took a sip of his coffee while Maureen practically choked on hers.
"I did not!" Roger raised an eyebrow, carefully setting his mug down. He cleared his throat.
"'Oh Mark! Mark! Please! Oh, God, yes!'" Roger mimicked in a high falsetto, banging the table with emphasis. Maureen turned red, and slammed her mug on the table, coffee jumping out.
"Roger! Roger, you asshole! I do not sound like that!" But that only egged Roger on to continue. It was too fun to see Maureen's face as he kept on with his act.
"Mark, yes, yes, YES! There, right THERE!"
"Right where?" Mark's dazed voice mumbled, reaching the two tablemates. He shuffled over, his glasses almost dangling off his nose. "What's going on?"
"We were just talking, Pookie," Maureen said, her voice sweet and pleasant, trying to get off the whole subject all together. But Roger, being himself, couldn't let it go just yet.
"Just talking about your sex life," Roger added. Maureen glared at him while Mark blushed, per usual, and gave him a somewhat surprised look.
"Why were you talking about that?" Roger opened his mouth, eager to explain, but Maureen went into drama-mode once again.
"Oh, Pookie, Roger's making fun of me!" she wailed, clinging onto the poor bespeckled blond. Mark raised his eyebrows, and gave Roger a look. Roger shrugged, unfazed.
"I can't help it if she screams so loud I can hear it as if I were in the room, watching."Maureen gave another loud wail, and Mark gave him a disapproving glare.
"Roger, be nice."
"Is that all you can say?" Maureen howled, throwing her arms up. Roger rolled his eyes and drank his coffee. "'Roger, be nice'!" Mark winced at her loud tone, but she wouldn't back down. "How about, 'Roger, why don't I grow some balls and stand up to you'? Or, 'Roger, how about you lay off my girlfriend'!" Mark's face flamed.
"Maureen, come on—" But she stomped off into the bedroom, making damn sure to slam the door shut. Ah, the usual morning routine. Roger chuckled as Mark whirled around to glare at him. "Are you happy? You made her angry at me. Again." He started to make tea. "Because you have to go and say stuff like that." Roger drained the rest of his warm coffee and looked at his friend.
"I say it because it's true." Mark turned to look at the guitarist, raising an eyebrow. Roger laughed, standing from the table. "I also say it to get a rise out of her, too. But it's because you guys are pounding away that I can't get any sleep. And when I don't get my sleep, I get cranky."
"Just like a girl," Mark said, and Roger placed his mug in the sink.
"I'll pretend you didn't say that, Mark Cohen," he said as Mark sat down with his tea bag in water, "because if you did, I'd have to think about seriously beating you up." Mark smiled.
"Sure, Roger. Sure." As Roger started to walk back to his room, Mark called out, "Hey! What are you planning to do today?" Roger shrugged, not bothering to turn around.
"Who knows?" And with that, he shut his door.
Collins came over later, after Maureen had left the loft to do god knows what. Collins had just bought a new place on his own with the money the university gave him. He had moved out just a couple weeks before, leaving Roger, Mark, and Maureen all to themselves. Mark sat on a stool, drinking tea, when Collins arrived. "Collins!" He smiled, and flopped down on the couch.
"What's up, Mark? Where's Maureen and Roger? I thought we were all going to get drunk later." Collins looked at his watch. "Later meaning very soon." Mark shrugged.
"Roger's been in his room all day playing guitar, and Maureen stepped out for a few hours.
"Roger's been telling me you guys are having a good relationship so far." Mark's face grew hot. Roger and his huge mouth.
"God! When did he tell you that?" Collins chuckled.
"Oh, just a week or so ago. I came to visit, you two were out, and I hung out with Roger for a few hours. He told me all about his 'sleeping problem'." Mark thought his face couldn't get any redder.
"It's not my fault the walls are paper thin," he muttered, staring into his tea. Collins grinned.
"Is that why Maureen's out?" Mark shrugged.
"Roger was making fun of her this morning, and when I went into the room to tell her I was sorry, she was already dressed. She said, 'Sorry, Pookie, but I have to get out of this place.' She kissed me on the cheek and flew off." Collins smiled, as Collins often did.
"Ah, don't worry, Mark. Soon, all four of us will be smashed and she'll forgive you soon enough." Mark laughed.
"Thanks, Collins. I've always got to remember that drunken parties will solve everything." Collins laughed, and Roger opened his door.
"I thought I heard some college professor laughing out here."
"That's me," Collins replied. "What were you doing in your room for so long? Writing songs?"
"Getting sleep," Roger said honestly, smiling sheepishly when Mark gave him a hard glare. "What? It was the truth, dammit!"
"Enough, enough," Collins said. "The time is flyin', boys, and I'm in the mood to get drunk." Roger raised an eyebrow.
"Where would you get all the money from?" Collins winked, getting up from his seat.
"You know, if you program an ATM the right way, all kinds of riches will be bestowed upon one such as myself." Mark and Roger exchanged smiles as Collins opened the door. "Alright, come along, now, we've got no time to waste."
"What about Maureen?" Mark mentioned as they walked into the bar, taking a seat.
"Maureen will find her way, I'm sure," Collins assured him, hushing Roger to any smart-ass comments he might have on the subject. "Tonight is all about having fun, getting drunk, and dancing the night away, my friends." As he had told them on the way there, the poor college professor was having a hard time of it at his university, about how the people there just weren't getting his theory at 'actual reality'. They told him to scrap it, but he would try getting to them. So, on this Friday after a week of hell, Collins was ready to drown his sorrows. Roger smiled.
"If Mark wants to dance the night away without Maureen." Mark blushed.
"Well, you know, I can't really dance."
"All you have to is move to the music," Collins said, swaying slightly to prove his point.
"Ah, it's okay," the Jewish boy said, "you guys can dance without me." Roger pouted mockingly.
"But, Mark, I live to watch you dance!" Mark shoved him, and both the other boys laughed. "Nah, I'm just joking with you," he said, mussing Mark's hair. "But I do love to see you go against your mother's good upbringing." Mark rolled his eyes.
"Oh, thanks," he said sarcastically, drinking more of the cheap beer that he currently held in his hand. Roger laughed, and Collins smiled.
"We all love to see you rebel, Mark. It's not often we get to see you do something your mother would probably faint at."
"When have we seen him do something like that?" Roger asked, raising an eyebrow. Mark smacked himself on the forehead as Collins actually proceeded to answer.
"Remember the time on his eighteenth, one of the first days we moved into the loft, we got wasted and Mark hadn't had a beer before?" Roger smiled.
"I also remember Mark wearing a sparkly hot pink shirt that night and dancing on the table." Mark began to protest, but Collins kept on.
"Or that time when I brought that joint, and we got Mark to smoke it?" Roger laughed.
"And he started talking about how he was actually Einstein reincarnated."
"Guys—" Mark began, but Collins still continued.
"Or when we brought him to a strip club?" Roger almost choked on his beer.
"And when he got so drunk he started to jump on stage with the stripers!"
"Guys—"
"And when he took his shirt off!" Collins added, Mark getting redder and more embarrassed by the second.
"Hey—"
"And when we got kicked out because he was getting more money than the girls!" Roger burst out, and him and Collins couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably. Mark slammed his beer hard on the table.
"I don't even remember that!"
"We do!" the two said in unison, and Mark blushed.
"What else have I done when I was drunk?" Collins and Roger opened their mouths, but they heard a voice behind them.
"What haven't you done when you were drunk, Pookie?" Mark turned around quickly in his seat, his face still read from embarrassment.
"Maureen! Where were you?"
"Oh, out and about," she replied before giving Mark one hell of a kiss. Roger rolled his eyes.
"Get a room." And, as an afterthought, he added, "Not Mark's room." The two shot daggers at him and he pretended not to notice, finishing off his drink while Collins chuckled.
"Let's dance, Marky," Maureen cooed, and Mark smiled, the pair getting up and getting lost in the dancing mob. Roger raised an eyebrow.
"I thought he couldn't dance." Collins smiled.
"Oh, he can dance when Maureen is around." The guitarist made a face.
"Okay, let's order a few more drinks. If there's one image I can't handle right now, it's Mark and Maureen grinding on the dance floor." Collins laughed.
"Mark and Maureen. What a pair." Roger looked to the dance floor, not able to see them.
"You wonder why a chick like her would go for a guy like him. I mean, they're pretty opposite."
"Yes," Collins mused, "but at least they're happy." Roger nodded.
"Thank god for small favors." The next round of beers appeared on the table, thanks to the fast-moving waitress.
"Cheers," Collins said, and the pair clinked glasses. If they had been looking at the dance floor as they drank, they might have seen Mark and Maureen dancing in the crowd.
Roger looked at the door. He squinted his eyes at the lock, and then rammed the key into the doorknob. "Fuck," he slurred.
"Whattsa matter, Roger?" he heard Collins mutter.
"I can't...can't get the fucking key into the fucking lock." He squinted again. "It doesn't fit." Mark hiccuped.
"Lemme see." Somehow, Mark managed to stumble over, and before he could take the keys from Roger, he fell down. "Ow. God, I'm sooooo drunk right now." Collins laughed.
"Ohmigod, if we had driven tonight...but we don't have a car." The only words Roger heard was 'oh my god' and 'car', and Mark heard something like, "We should party all night at the local bar," and groaned at the thought of more alcohol.
"Where's Maureen?" Roger managed to ask, after dropping the keys by Mark's feet. Collins shrugged, but Mark spoke up as he twirled the keys around.
"She left early, said she was going to spend the night over her own apartment." Roger and Collins looked at each other, and attempted to make eye contact. Maureen spending the night over her place? Mark hiccuped happily, holding up a key. "This one should fit." But Roger and Collins still didn't feel right.
"Wait," Roger said as Mark finally got the key into the lock, and turned it.
"Maureen doesn't have her own place," Collins said, and Mark opened the door.
"Home sweet..." He trailed off. "Maureen?" Mark asked, his voice going a little bit too high. Roger and Collins looked in.
"Pookie, this isn't what it looks like!" Mark was starting to sober up a little at the sight of his girlfriend in the room with her shirt off with another guy and another girl. Collins winced. This wasn't going to be pretty. He was about to say something comforting to Mark, but before he could do so, Roger jumped in with a smart little quip.
"Well, it looks like you're about to have a threesome..." Roger glanced at Mark, who looked like he was about to murder him, and Maureen, who looked like she was going to kick his dead body around afterwards. "But, uh, that's just me." He looked to Collins. This wasn't going to be pretty.
I had to cut it off here, but there's more where it came from. Reviews to me are like smack to Mimi. You know what to do.