A/N: I've been planning to write this for quite some time now, and writing it right now kind of has the power to distract me from everything that's been going on in my godforsaken country in the past week. The idea first crossed my mind when a short article about Rent was published when the movie was released here, in which Mark was described as suffering from what they called the Ross Geller Syndrome: being dumped by a lesbian and having a hard time getting over it. I tried to find out if Jonathan was inspired by Ross' character when he wrote Mark's or was it the other way around, but I guess it's just a coincidence, since Rent's workshop started at 94, just the year in which Friends started as well. But anyways, this is how this crossover came to be. The timeline is pre-Rent and at the very beginning of Friends. Since I can't remember if Joey and Ross knew each other at this point, let's just assume he's in there as Chandler's roommate.

Disclaimer- nothing is mine. Jonathan Larson owns Rent, Warner Brothers own Friends, the title is inspired from Rocky Horror Picture Show and there's the tiniest reference to Coyote Ugly.

And now after this long introduction… happy reading! And I'll be more than happy to know what you think!

On a Night Out

"Hey man," said Roger as he let himself into the loft, dropping his leather jacket on the couch. This sudden movement along with his roommate's voice startled Mark, who was scribbling some more side-notes into his script draft, deeply concentrated. Now he looked up, looking tired and red-eyed. Roger gave him a look. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," said Mark shortly, turning his attention back to his notepad.

Roger observed him silently for a moment, and then said, "She didn't come home again, didn't she?"

"What? Who? What are you talking about?" asked Mark. He said it all so quickly, trying so hard to make it sound as if he didn't know what Roger was talking about, but Roger knew his friend long enough to know when he was pretending. Mark seemed to have realized that, for he sighed and dropped the notepad on the coffee table. "She was supposed to finish rehearsals hours ago."

"I'm sure she has a good reason," said Roger, in a tone that didn't convince even himself. Mark gave him a skeptical look. Maybe he was naïve, but he was definitely not stupid. "Look. I know you're worried about Maureen. But she's a big girl. She can take care of herself. You don't need to sit here waiting for her to come home every single night."

"I'm her boyfriend," said Mark, stating the obvious. "It's just…" he sighed. "I wish I just knew where she was. I really don't care, I just wanna know that she's okay."

Roger considered the situation for a moment. It was nearly 10PM, and they had two options. He could give up and let Mark wait for Maureen again, absorbed in self-pity and soon-to-be suicidal thought. Or… they could go out. He definitely favored the second choice. He reached for his jacket again and slipped into it. Mark watched him in silent question. Roger shook his head. "Come on, get your coat."

"What? Why?"

"We're going out. Come on."

"No, Roger, I don't wanna-"

"Listen to me. You can't spend another night waiting for her to come back. It's crazy! She obviously has a life, don't you wanna have a life for a change?"

Mark looked at him hesitantly, as if considering this. Then he asked slowly, "Where are we going?"

Well, that was a progress. At least he wasn't protesting. Maybe he realized how useless it would be; he'd lose anyway. Where should they go? Roger took a moment to ponder over that, and then the greatest idea came to his mind. "How about that new club, the Cat Scratch?"

Now Mark looked terrified. And slightly pink, too. Oh no. Roger hoped that didn't scare him away. "The C… Cat Scratch?" he stammered.

"Yeah. I heard it's good."

"I don't know," said Mark, the slightest whine audible in his voice.

"Oh, come on, Mark." The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go. Benny has already been there, twice, and bothered to mention it only after he went there. And Mark couldn't regret now!

"Maureen wouldn't have wanted me to go there."

Here we go again. "What is she, your mom? May I remind you that you have no idea what she is doing right now, Mark? As far as we know, she's licking wiped cream off her director or something." Mark shot him what seemed to be a warning glare. Roger chose to ignore it, not the least intimidated. "Besides," he continued, grinning evilly. "Maureen doesn't even have to know."

Mark still had that hesitant look. He opened his mouth to respond, when the door suddenly opened and Collins walked in, a pile of books under his arm, a backpack dangling from one shoulder. "Howdy bitches," he said, dropping his keys on the coffee table.

"Great. Collins. Just in time."

Collins eyed Roger curiously. "What can I do for you, Davis?"

"I wanna take Mark down to the Cat Scratch, only his chickening out on me."

"I'm not chickening out!" said Mark, but the blush on his face suggested otherwise. "I just… don't feel like going to a strip-club."

"It's not a strip-club!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, the politically correct term is exotic dancing," said Mark mockingly.

"You should go out, Mark," said Collins, breaking their argument. He shot Roger a warning glare in case he'd want to push it a bit further, and then turned to give Mark an encouraging smile. "You could use the fresh air. Although you won't get much of that if you're gonna go to a club," he added, looking contemplated. Then he paused, as if to think it over. "The Cat Scratch, huh? Maybe I'll go with you."

"It's a school night, Thomas," said Roger in fake seriousness.

Collins rolled his eyes. "My first class starts at noon, I think I can handle some alcohol until then."

"Well, I'm not sure it's your kind of club though, Collins."

"Oh, it's not. But Rodrigo, the bar-tender, is definitely my kind of guy," said Collins, winking.

"You guys, I really rather stay here," Mark made another pathetic attempt to protest.

"You're ditching us when we finally have a chance to spend some quality time, just us guys? April is away and it's quiet here, so I'm assuming Maureen is not back yet. Come with us. I promise that if you'll feel it's an unbearable torture, we'll leave."

"That's what you said the last time, too," Mark pointed out.

Collins gave him a puzzled look. "When?"

"When you dragged me to that place couple of weeks ago. Coyote something. With the girls who danced on the bar." He still looked somewhat shaken, although it's been over two weeks since they went there.

"Ah, that place," said Roger, a goofy grin on his face.

"Come on Mark. You don't want Maureen to think you're one of those jealous boyfriends, some pathetic loser who has nothing better to do but wait for her to come back home, don't you?" asked Collins, sending a side-glance towards Roger, who nodded. Good tactic.

Somehow, Collins always managed to get through Mark. It took him a moment but eventually he slowly nodded. "Fine. I'll go with you. But let's get one thing straight. I'm not a pathetic loser who has nothing better to do but wait for his girlfriend to come back home."

"Uh… sure Mark, whatever you say," said Collins, stifling a giggle. He and Roger exchanged an amused look once Mark's back was turned to them, as he was putting on his coat.

By the time they got to the club it was so packed, that the only seats they managed to find were at the bar. Roger was disappointed, for he wanted to sit closer to the stage, but Collins actually seemed quite satisfied with the arrangement, once he spotted his current target polishing some glasses at the other side of the bar. Mark was sitting there between his two friends, looking horrified and completely out-of-place. Loud music blustered through enormous speakers that were located all over the place. The smell of alcohol, sweat and cigarette smoke carried heavily in the air, making him feel dizzy. The lights were dim except for several spotlights that were directed towards the stage, where several girls in minimal dress were dancing. He tried not to look at them too much, although it was hard not to. God, he couldn't stop thinking about Maureen's reaction if she'd ever find out where the guys took him. That's it, the guys took him, it was not his idea, it was completely-

His reverie was cut short as Roger's elbow made contact with his side. "Not bad, isn't it?" he asked, grinning widely and nodding towards the stage.

"You guys, I really don't feel comfortable with this," said Mark, carefully looking at Collins. "You said we could go back home if I'd feel it was an unbearable torture, which I do… so can we head back now?"

"What? No way man, we just got here!" protested Roger.

"Come on, Mark, you didn't even give it a chance. Here," said Collins, sliding a glass of beer in Mark's direction. "You'll feel much better after having one of these."

"I'll feel much better at home," grumbled Mark, but sipped the beer anyway.

Collins sighed and looked at Mark as if he was a hopeless case. "And I really expected Maureen to be able to cure him from all this home-sitting of his," he told Roger over Mark's head.

"I think that even Maureen gave up on him," laughed Roger, reaching for his drink and signaling the bartender for another one.

"Not that I can blame her, either. The boy is so anti-social," said Collins, shaking his head in dismay.

"Totally," agreed Roger.

"Uhh… guys? I'm still here," Mark pointed out.

"So how things are going with you and Mo?" asked Collins, who wasn't around lately, for he had a teaching gig out of town.

"Fine. I couldn't be happier," said Mark flatly.

Collins raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Troubles in paradise?"

"Ever since she started working on that play… oh, never mind."

"No, speak, maybe you just gotta take it out of your system."

"You guys, this is not the time for couples' therapy," said Roger, whose attention was back on the stage now. A beautiful, petite Latina was doing a solo dance, her black leather lingerie clinging to her body like second skin. She was swaying her hips in sync with the slow, sensual music. All the men in the room followed her movements as if hypnotized.

Well, almost all the men. Collins looked up for a moment, then shifted his attention back to Mark, who was making great efforts not to look at the stage as well. "So Mo got a role in a play…"

Mark sighed. He wasn't used to spill his heart and tell someone else his troubles. Usually he was the listener, the one who gave advises that people chose to take or ignore. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that it was really bothering him, but he just couldn't keep it inside. "She's never home anymore. She goes back incredibly late, usually when I'm already asleep, or if I'm not asleep she hardly says two words to me, usually about how tired she is, before she goes to take a shower and then straight to bed. We're not going out anymore, she won't let me touch her-" Collins' eyebrows were raised in silent question, and Mark gave him a look. "No, I don't mean just sex. I mean little things like hugging or kissing or cuddling."

"Ugh, too much information, Cohen," said Roger, whose attention shifted back to their conversation once the word 'sex' was mentioned. "It's one thing that I have to share a wall with you two, but it's a totally different thing to have to listen to all that now. Understood?"

Mark dismissed him with one look. "The point is that she's going through something, and I don't know what it is because she won't let me in."

"You know Mo. She never talks when something is bothering her," said Collins.

"Exactly. She yells and snaps at you and breaks stuff," Roger interjected. "In short- she becomes extremely bitchy. More bitchy than usual, that is."

"I don't think you're helping him, Davis," said Collins slowly. Roger just shrugged and downed his drink in one shot.

"Look, I know all that," said Mark, kind of impatiently. Then he sighed and looked at Collins desperately. "I'm worried about her."

"And I'm worried about you. You're life is not supposed to stop because Maureen is never home. She leads her life, you must lead yours. You're together for over a year now, and you've been almost inseparable all this time. Maybe it scares her. It's probably the first long-termed relationship she ever managed to keep. Maybe it's her way of telling you she needs some space. Maybe you should just give it to her."

Mark considered it for a moment, although he still looked dubious. "Still, I wish she could just let me know. Maybe it's something I've done-"

"Mark, will you stop blaming yourself? You don't know, maybe she's just stressed because of this play."

Mark snorted. "Maureen? Stressed because of a play?"

"I agree, it's very unlikely, but it's a possibility. Don't make wild assumptions, it probably has nothing to do with you."

Mark was about to answer to that when someone spoke next to them, right behind Collins' back. "You guys, thanks for doing this for me, but I really prefer to go home." Mark stopped at the sound of those words, usually his own words. The voice that uttered them sounded miserable, a bit whiny even. Was that the way he sounded whenever he used them? Oh man.

He looked over Collins' shoulder. There were three men there, looking slightly older than him. Probably Collins' age, give or take a year. One of them sat with his back to the bar, his full attention given to the stage, and didn't seem to notice his friend's whining. The middle one, tall and dark-haired, sat hunched over the bar with a drink in front of him. On his other side sat another guy, who seemed sort of concerned.

"Ross, you are not going home to torture yourself with self-pity just because this woman dumped you."

Collins, who apparently was listening to them as well, snorted and gave Mark a look. "Sounds familiar?" he asked lowly.

"Maureen did not dump me, Collins," Mark hissed back, taking another seep of his beer. Collins smirked, as if he knew better. And he probably did, only Mark didn't want to ponder over it right now.

Behind Collins' back, the two continued their conversation. "Chandler, this woman happens to be Carol. My wife? Remember?"

"Ouch," whispered Collins, grinning goofily. Mark just frowned in reply and kept on listening.

"You're not the first married man who's being dumped, Ross."

"Yes, okay, but why, why, why, do I have to be the one who enters the statistics? And how the hell am I going to break this to my parents?"

"Well, you can start by reminding them that at least you got married. Monica didn't even do that."

Collins gave Mark another look, which prevented him from listening to Ross' reply. He felt really bad for listening to those guys' conversation, because it was definitely not meant for his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to do something else.

There was a short pause, and then the guy named Chandler said, "She must have had a reason to end it up."

Ross snorted. "Yeah, some reason," he said bitterly. "She's in love."

Chandler let out a long whistle. "She's got a new man?"

"Well, no," said Ross, in a tone that made Collins and Mark exchange puzzled looks.

"Come on, Ross. What's his name?"

There was another short pause before Ross replied, very slowly, "Her name. What's her name, Chandler."

It took Chandler a second to realize what his friend was trying to say. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed, a bit over-dramatically. Kind of the way Maureen used to do when she was expected to act surprised, even when it wasn't really the case.

This seemed to snap the third guy out of his trance-like stare at the stage. He turned to look at Ross, wide-eyed. "Dude, your wife dumped you for another woman?"

The question had the same affect on Roger, who suddenly lost interest in the happenings onstage. He turned to look at Mark and Collins, silent question is his eyes. Collins nodded, as if he knew what Roger wanted to ask, and motioned him to shut up.

"Yeah, stating it really helps, Joey. Why don't you go to the mic and say it even louder?"

"So what are you going to do?" asked Chandler after a while.

"What is there to do? We're meeting my lawyer next week to sign the divorce papers and she could live happily ever after with Suzan." Mark noticed the appalled look that Ross had as he uttered his wife's new lover.

There was a pause, where the three men sipped their drinks silently. Eventually Chandler looked sorrowfully at Ross. "That sucks, man," he said, in such honesty that Mark's heart nearly broke. He felt so sorry for the poor guy.

"I'll say," whispered Collins.

"Amen," added Roger, tossing his drink in the air.

"So now that you know why I don't feel like bar-hopping today, can we please head home?"

Joey started to protest, but Chandler quickly shushed him with a look. Then he got up and patted Ross' back. "Sure. We'll get you home."

Mark looked after them as they disappeared among the crowd. He was quiet. So were Roger and Collins. Rodrigo served them another round of drinks and disappeared, not before he flashed Collins a seductive smile. Once he was gone, Collins turned to look back at Mark.

"Feeling any better?"

"Better? I feel even worse now, after listening to this poor guy."

"Well, if you care to know what I think-"

"I think we better not, Davis," said Collins, glaring at Roger.

"I mean, can you imagine the look on his face when she told him she was cheating on him with another woman? How do you even react to such a thing?" asked Mark, shivering. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I hope it taught you a lesson though," said Collins.

"That life sucks?"

Collins laughed. "No. That you must take everything in proportion. You feel like shit, but there's always deeper shit. You're girlfriend ignores you or whatever, this guy was dumped by his wife for another woman."

"That's true, I guess," said Mark slowly.

"You can be sure of one thing though," said Roger, placing his drink on the bar and patting Mark's back, so forcefully that he almost toppled forward. "This will never happen to you."