DISCLAIMER: I own nothing RENT. All the characters are the work of the brilliant late Jonathan Larson.

Also, this chapter is stunningly short. But the next should be longer. Enjoy and please PLEASE review! I've been reading RENT fics for ages and always review, and this is my first RENT fic so please do the polite thing and review. Your reviews have always been so valuable to me as a writer! Thanks so much! I love you guys!

Roger strummed two G chords, then a C, bopping his head to the beat of a brand new tune.

"If you don't stop moving, I'm going to cut your damn ear off!" Mimi cried. She was standing behind him, cutting his hair. The beautiful hair that he'd neglected and was now almost down to his shoulders. She sighed. "Baby, you don't deserve hair this good. Ugh, stop moving!"

"You're interrupting the process, babe!"

"Process my ass. Now keep still!" She held his head in her hands and when that didn't work, flashed the scissors before his eyes. "If you want to keep your ears, you'll keep still."

He smiled. "Yes, mom." She whacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

Mark and Collins stood up from across the room. "I'm sorry," Mark said, "But I can't be a witness to this brutality. Best of luck, my friend."

"Wait, no! Mark!" He grabbed Collins by the sleeve as he walked past him. "Tom, don't leave me!"

Mimi grinned at them. "Buh-bye, boys." She turned back to her boyfriend. "Now keep still or I'm taking that guitar away!"

Snip, snip, snip, then "OW! You got skin!"

"Well, you shouldn't have been moving, damn it!" She looked at the tiny bit of blood dripping from his scalp and contemplated just how dangerous—how deadly—that drop could be for everyone else in the world. At least, everyone who didn't have HIV like she and Roger did. She let out a deep breath and kissed the little wound with great tenderness. "Better?"

"Much." She snipped a little more. "Just how short are you making it?"

She shrugged, but he couldn't see. "Maybe…centimeter longer than it was when I met you. I like it that length."

"But I want it short," he said.

"Ah, but who's the one who shares intimacies with you, baby?"

"Fair enough," he relented. She smiled and finished cutting, then swept the hair off the floor, tied it together with a piece of string, and put it in a drawer. "Mimi, that's disgusting," he said, "It's hair."

"My mama used to do this," she told him. "I hated getting my hair cut—always liked it long. So when I was little and she'd cut it, she'd tie it up with a ribbon and put it away. Kind of a weird tradition of ours. Now we can have a tradition of our own."

She came back over to him and used her fingers to sweep off the scattered bits of trimmed hair still on him. "A tradition sounds good," he said, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"So," she said when she finally pulled away, "What's this new song of yours going to be called? Wait, let me guess. 'Your Nose'?"

"Haha." He said, setting down his guitar. "Don't mock. Besides, I was thinking more like... 'Your Ass.'" She giggled and whacked him once more.

"Hey!" he said, rubbing his now very sore skull, "You know, we have got to work on this whole abuse issue." She smiled that big smile again, her whole face glowing with happiness as she bent down to kiss him. Roger felt himself shift under her weight and before he knew it, he was falling off the chair and onto the floor, bringing her with him. They landed on the ground with a thud, Mimi, on top of him. He looked to her with concern, but saw that she was laughing. She was laughing so hard that she was crying and could barely breathe. "I love you," she said when she finally caught her breath. They began to kiss a third time with such passion; she couldn't help but start unbuttoning his shirt.

Just then, the front door slid open and Mark came in. "Forgot film—oh, God!" He looked at them lying there on the floor, one on top of the other, Roger half naked, and said only, "The floor! You have now conquered every single surface in the apartment with sex. The couch, the table, your bed, my bed…but the floor? Where I—"

"Where you what?" Mimi said flatly, standing up and tossing Roger his shirt. "Where you stand?"

Mark rolled his eyes. "You two make me sick." He went into his room to look for film and Roger eyed the door of his and Mimi's room (yes, as of last month they were officially living together…with Mark and Collins, too). He raised his eyebrows seductively at her.

"Hmmmm…" she said, "You know I'm not really in the mood anymore. There's just something so hot about doing it on the floor…not a bed. Not now, anyway."

"Don't let me stop you!" Mark shouted from the other room.

"We won't!" Roger and Mimi said in unison. Roger and walked toward Mimi. She slipped just out of his reached and he began chasing her around the room. She rushed behind the table, gasping with laughter, with him directly across from her. He took a step to the left, she took a step to the right.

"You'll never catch me this way!" She teased.

"Wanna bet?" He darted after her and she took off running again. He cut her off in front off and caught her in his arms, both of them laughing breathlessly. Wrapped up in their warm and happy embrace, they started kissing again. Roger felt something light hit him on the back and he pulled away from Mimi. He looked at a condom on the ground that Mark had just thrown at him.

"No glove, no love," Mark said.

"Thanks!" Mimi chirped.

"Not like I'll be needing it anytime soon. Bleh. I'm going out to buy film. Need anything?"

"Yeah," Roger said doing that sexy eyebrow thing again. "Duct tape."

"Do I want to know why?" Mark said.

"Probably not."

"Right. I'll be back in a few hours. By then you should be done doing…whatever it is you're going to do. Bye."

Ignoring him, they went toward their room.

"Yuck." Mark spat, but he couldn't help but smile. Then he walked out of the apartment muttering, "Film, duct tape," so as not to forget.

"Now," Mimi said once they were alone. "Where were we?"