Disclaimer: We don't even own a car, and you expect us to own the greatest musical of all time? Please!
A/N: This story was inspired by the Barenaked Ladies song, The Old Apartment, which we also don't own. (It's really not our day, is it?) This is Mark/Roger friendship (sorta), and is only Mark/Roger if you put on sunglasses and look at it upside-down. We're back together again, writing as the awesome dynamic duo, hope you enjoy the story!
The Old Apartment
"Collins, hey, it's me again. I'm getting really worried now, Roger hasn't come back yet, or called, or given any sign that he hasn't fallen off the face of the earth! I'm giving it another hour, then I'm going out to-- never mind, he's back now." A irritated Mark hung up the phone, and turned to face his best friend, who had just came stumbling into the loft, obviously drunk.
"Where have you been? DO you have any idea what time it is?!" Mark exclaimed.
"I was at the Life, and yeah, according to the clock it's five o' three." Roger slurred.
"That's over three hours than when you'd said you would be back, and you're completely hammered!"
"Why are you so worried? Maureen or Collins can come back late or intoxicated, or both, and no one acts like it's a crisis." He retorted.
"Joanne would murder Maureen, and I don't even want to think about what Angel would do to Collins. So don't think you're getting off easy, mister." Mark snapped at the musician.
"You see, there's a difference in the situation here. Maureen and Joanne, as well as Angel and Collins are going out. In case you misunderstand our relationship Mark, we're friends, and that's it." Roger was saying this only to get on Mark's nerves.
"That's beside the point. For all I know you and Mimi could have been using again, and you didn't even call to say that you were going to be late!"
"First off, I'm clean, and have been for the past two years. Second of all, how should I put this, I DON'T HAVE TO REPORT TO YOU!!" Roger was on his feet now.
Mark sprang up, pulling himself up to his full height, which was within an inch of Roger's. "I was about to go out to check the gutters for your body when you stumbled in. I bet you're so wasted you don't even remember my Hebrew name!"
"Uh... Aaron? Right?" Roger was just taking a guess, and did not want to be wrong, for fear of Mark's wrath.
"It's JESSE, you moron!" Mark was about to hit his "stride" and unleash his full fury on his roommate. "We've been best friends since kindergarten, and yet you have no respect for that. You don't even realize that with you addictive tendencies, one dose of smack could send you right back into the throes of your addiction. Don't you even remember who got you through those six months of puking, shaking, fevers, and hallucinations? It was ME! And I'm not prepared to pull you out of that again. And don't even think about pulling the "Why me and not Mimi" card, because I got three calls, two of which were hysterical, from Angel wondering where she was."
"First of all, I really appreciate having friends who care about me, honest. Second, I DON'T HAVE TO REPORT TO THOSE FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT IN CHARGE OF MY LIFE! For goodness sakes Mark, you're acting just like your mother. You're being overprotective, and not allowing people to live their own lives." This emitted a gasp from Mark, which Roger did not notice, for he was already walking towards the apartment door.
"Perhaps why we need to know where you are is because you're IRRESPONSIBLE!" Mark screamed. "I AM NOT ACTING LIKE MY MOTHER, YOU'RE JUST BEING A CARELESS BASTARD!"
Roger was still making progress towards the door, but stopped for a moment to answer back. "I am not being irresponsible, Mark. Now if you'll excuse me from this wonderful little chat, I'm going out." He hissed.
"Where are you going?"
"Out." He said, knowing very well that this was not an acceptable answer.
Mark crossed the apartment and blocked the door. "Where. Are. You. Going.?" He repeated dangerously.
"Now, now Marky, I'm not sure if you're allowed to hold people against their will, there has to be a law against that somewhere. So in all of our best interests, I suggest that you move away from the door."
" Just tell me where you're going, and you can get gone." Mark was springing a line on him from one of his oldest songs, one he had written when Mark was headed off to college.
Roger easily could have told Mark where he was going, but did not want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he took a powerful swing at Mark's head, who ducked just in time, so Roger's hand landed on the door. Several things happened in the next few moments: Roger's fist went through the door, making a larger, gaping hole, Mark looked up horrified, wondering what would have happened if that blow had landed on target, which happened to be his head, but most notable of all was that Roger shouted "You'll be fixing that, because I no longer live here!" and slamming the now broken door behind him.