Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.

Author's notes: I thought that I would try my hand at writing something warm and fuzzy. So here it is. Clearly, Roger/Mark fluff.

Cold Feet

Roger rolled over in twisted sheets, one eye half open. 2:37 glared back at him in digital red letters from the clock. It took a moment for him to realize why he had woken up at such an ungodly hour. There was an absence in the bed next to him, something missing. Mark.

What had really woken him was a crash from the kitchen. He would have gone to investigate, but before he could even think of removing he layers of blankets that they used in the late fall Mark appeared in the doorway. "Mark what are you doing?" He asked in his annoyed, hoarse, I just woke up voice so this had better be good voice.

The filmmaker looked like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn't have as he stood in the doorway. "I couldn't sleep." He shrugged a little, crossing his arms over his chest, so they were pressed against his black and white scarf that was wrapped tightly around his neck. "I was trying to make tea, but I didn't want to wake you up so I didn't turn on the light and I dropped my cup because I couldn't see."

It was more details than Roger needed. He really could care less about what had caused the noise, especially when he wasn't processing thoughts well yet. "Why can't you sleep?" This was what he needed to know. Mark was light sleeper who had to have things a certain way if he was even going to sleep. And the sooner that he could fix the problem and get Mark into bed, the sooner he could go back to sleep.

"I have cold feet." Mark answered a little sheepishly.

"About what?"

"No, my feet are actually cold."

Roger shook his head at his own mistake, and then rubbed his face as he lifted his head to look at Mark's feet. They were enlarged and shapeless from the amount of material on top of them. "How many pairs of socks are you wearing?"

"Five."

He sighed, but at the same time an idea struck him. "Come back to bed." He sat up, starting to peel off the layers.

"But the mess in the kitchen." Mark protested.

"Will still be there in the morning." Roger cut gave him a look. "Now come here." Mark complied, walking further into the room. "Sit on the bed." He did. "Now give me your scarf."

Mark started to unwrap the scarf from his neck. "What is this going to--."

"You'll see." Roger cut him off. He was already far more awake then he would like to be, and had no patience for questions. "Feet." He demanded. Mark's feet were swung up to meet his lap, as he took the scarf from Mark. He started to wrap the scarf around the layered feet until he could no longer see the socks that were on the feet. "There."

"I can't move my feet."

"You won't have to til morning." Roger started to get back under the covers intent on falling asleep again. "Come on. Get in bed."

Mark made his way into the bed, burying himself under the blankets, relishing the feeling as Rogers arm snaked its way around his body, pulling him closer.

"Are your feet warmer now?"

This was an easy game to play for Mark. Roger liked to think he was in charge, but somehow it was always Mark getting exactly what he wanted. "Yeah…but my neck's kind of cold."

Roger's body shifted, his head going down, longish hair tickling his throat, a soft kiss landing on Mark's Adam's apple before his head came to a rest next to Mark's neck, a hot breath glancing across the skin every time that he exhaled. "How's that?"

"Much better."

"I think your feet might have to get cold more often."

"I think I could handle that."