Author's Note: Written for Prompt #2 at RENTforbastards on LiveJournal.Prompt was to write a fic about what happened directly before or after an established scene in the musical. This fic takes place before Without You and extends into the Mimi/Roger exchange in the play.

Need/Want

Mimi balances precariously, one spikeheel hooked onto the table of her vanity as she straightens the seam of her torn fishnets. She zips up her boot and grabs her coat, slipping her arms through the big sleeves and fastening it closed with one button at her waist. She shuts off the light at her table, reaching into her pocket for her lip gloss and smearing some over her lips, cursing herself for agreeing to the late shift.

Dancing earlier, right when her bra came off and she threw one thin vinyl-clad arm across her chest to tease, Mimi could have swore she saw Benny at his usual table in the back. She turned, flipped her hair and checked again, not surprised when she realized she'd been very much mistaken. And of course it made sense that Benny would be at home with his wife while Mimi shook her hips for a room full of strangers, playing dressup in garments no girl ever dreams of.

Mimi pulls her coat tighter and pushes herself into a swifter pace. Roger hated when she was late, and she'd been late every night this week.

She frowns, her full lips falling into a pout. Roger hated many things she did.

She keeps telling herself that as long as she doesn't do as much smack… but Roger didn't seem to think that was good enough. He always has something to say about it.

The wind is harsh, whipping her hair into her face, stinging her cheeks and lips. The streets are dead and eerie, there aren't even any dark shadows of the homeless sleeping where they fell. Mimi stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk and pauses to lift up her boot to inspect the damage, then hopping along for a few paces before falling back into her quick half-run pace.

She wishes there was time. She needs something. The Man is certainly still out. He never seems to sleep. He might as well be a statue in the park, the junkies flocking like pigeons to his consistency.

Roger would be really angry if I'm late and high.

Mimi shivers. It's not my fault, not really. And it wasn't like she hadn't tried. But just a few days of shaking and crying and sweating and her guts twisting into giant knots had been enough each time.

Mimi's hand is on the door, pushing it open and leaning back against it once she's inside, hoping for a gust of heat of some sort, but the temperature in the stairwell is as cold as outside. She starts up the stairs, skipping the broken hole where a second step should be and keeping away from the filthy walls, remembering the first time she tried to quit.

I thought I had a chance with him.

Mimi had walked out of her home like she owned the world. She had lied about her age and got a job as a stripper when she was sixteen. She carried a switchblade in case of trouble. She was a tough girl.

But men had a way of making her question every damn minute of her life. Benny with his beautiful wife who hated giving blow jobs. He had soft hands and a big wallet and bought her drinks after her shows. He used to leave flowers in her dressing room and buy her groceries. He never seemed to care if she was high. But it made her feel so cheap, shooting up in her skimpy clothes while he pulled up in his Range Rover and opened up her door with diamond studs in his ears. So she gave it a shot. And while she was lying in bed, clawing at her hair and beating her legs hard enough to leave bruises Benny was driving out of state with his wife to see about purchasing a purebred dog straight from the breeder.

How glamourous ordinary life is. Mimi's not sure if she's bitter or honest.

I thought I had a chance with him.

He opened the door, dirty and withdrawn and tall. One awkward hesitant smile from him, the smallest uncomfortable little laugh, and she was his. And Roger never said the right thing. He never bought her presents or took her out for dinner. He spent most of his time playing guitar and joking with Mark. But as wrong as he was, he was all right for her.

He knew how to kiss, long and slow kisses that made her forget and forgive. He knew how to make her feel beautiful, even if it was just a pleasantly surprised quirk of his eyebrows when he realized she had borrowed a few things from work for an evening. He waited up for her on her latest nights just he could watch her fall asleep. Trying to quit for Roger wasn't guilt or vanity or embarrassment. It was admiration, he did it first. And foolish hope, maybe I'll have more time with him. It was that strange and elusive feeling of love.

She stops at her door, frowning when she hears the muted sound of Roger's guitar. She closes her eyes for a moment to take a long, slow breath and then opens the door.

Roger looks up for a moment, his eyes dark and hurt and then turns back to his guitar.

"Where were you?" He mumbles into his lap.

Mimi closes the door behind her, tossing her coat on a chair. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"I know," he smirks and hits a sour note on the guitar. "You lost your keys." Biting his lip he sets the guitar on the table next to him, then leans over dropping his head in his hands. "No, you went for a walk, you had to help your mother."

He looks up at her, his eyes narrowed and dark and wet and dangerous. "And how's Benny?" He hisses.

Jealous. Mimi looks down at the floor.

Roger grabs his guitar. "I'm working upstairs tonight." He pushes past her and she grabs his arm.

I do it all for you. I want to be good, I want to look good, I want you to care and notice and stop worrying.

"I should tell you…"

I only do it because I need it. But I thinkneed you more.

"I should tell you…"

Roger waits, looking down at her with his beautiful green eyes, six feet of masculine beauty staring at her, waiting for her reassurance and her love or fucking anything.

I love you.

Mimi lets her hand drop. "Nevermind."