Title: Group Therapy
Author: Rhiannon
Pairing: Maureen/Joanne
Rating: G
Length: 485 words
Disclaimer: RENT and all related characters belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. I claim no ownership and make no profit on this fanfiction.
Summary: Sometimes, Joanne wants to send Maureen and her friends off to therapy. Sometimes, she wants them to be her tharapists.
Notes: Written for the rentslash Biweekly challenge #1: Mistakes. This is probably closer to gen than slash, but it's really hard to classify non-sex stories with canon gay/lesbian pairings. This is my first attempt at getting inside Joanne's head; she's my favorite character and I'm anxious to do her justice, so please let me know how you think I did-- feedback is your friend and mine!

Joanne knows she's made a few mistakes in her life. They aren't the mistakes her parents think she's made: Harvard over Yale, law over medicine, and the always-unspoken "women over men" don't weigh heavily on her mind. She doesn't think Maureen is a mistake, either, or at least not exactly; their relationship could be better, but they're happy enough with the status quo and barring either of them undergoing a sudden radical personality transplant, change seems unlikely anyway.

But sometimes she wonders if getting so involved in Maureen's life isn't a big mistake. It's practical, on one hand-- this bohemian crowd doesn't reek of PC attempts to hide their institutionalized homophobia behind polite smiles, and she doesn't have to worry about Maureen accidentally causing trouble by not knowing when to shut the hell up, or, alternatively, Maureen causing trouble just for the hell of it. But then again, Joanne feels like she's giving everything in this relationship-- shouldn't her life be as important as Maureen's?

After all, how many people number their lover's ex-boyfriend among their best friends? Especially when they never met said ex-boyfriend until after the break-up? But Mark is sweet and does his best not to intrude on her relationship with Maureen and frankly, if Joanne were interested in men at all, she'd be dating him herself. Mark has a way of seeing through bullshit, even if he has to use that damn camera to do it. He gives good reality checks, and Joanne's been studying law long enough to appreciate someone who can get to the bottom line.

The rest of them, though, Joanne doesn't quite know what to do with. They're all pretty smart people, and they know it, but they don't do anything about it. She's not used to people who don't try to succeed-- she can't understand why Collins, for instance, can't let a virtual reality program exist parallel to actual reality; it's not like eliminating one will put extra focus on the other, especially at a place called the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. But when she asks Maureen about it, she gets a dirty look, and when she asks Collins himself, the explanation involves a lot of philosophical theory that Joanne can't follow. She assumes he knows what he's doing, but she can't quite believe that those complicated philosophies can apply to people who haven't studied them.

Sometimes she wonders, looking at the group, if this is what a cult looks like. Angel and Collins and Roger, they're the leaders and the others will follow--even Maureen will usually listen to any of those three. But then she looks at them again, with her professional goggles off and her human goggles on, and sees that all of them are just reaching out. They're holding each other up, and they're offering her space on their raft, and that's when she knows that this isn't a mistake at all.

Title: Unknown Chemicals
Author: Rhiannon
Pairing: Maureen/Joanne
Rating: PG-13 for girlsex
Length: 280 words
Warnings/Kinks: Nothing in particular.
Disclaimer: RENT and all related characters belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson. I claim no ownership and make no profit on this fanfiction.
Summary: Make-up sex is addictive.
Notes: Written for the rentslash Biweekly challenge #1: Mistakes. "Group Therapy" turned out much more gen than slash, so it didn't really answer the challenge. So, tostay on-topic, I wrote a second fic that actually is slash. This is my first try at a Maureen voice, so please let me know how I did.

Perhaps, on reflection, trying to make Joanne jealous was a mistake, Maureen thinks, standing in the middle of the living room while Joanne paces and lectures in her best courtroom voice. It had just been the one kiss-- granted, it was a long kiss, and there'd been a little groping, and okay, so she'd left that girl (Katie? Callie?) with a hickey the size of a dime but Joanne didn't know that and Maureen had no plans to enlighten her-- but really, they always had the absolute best make-up sex when Joanne thought Maureen was cheating. Hot and possessive and wild, and normally just the thought of it was enough to get Maureen through the fight that always comes before the sex. But it's been almost an hour now, and Joanne shows no sign of winding down.

Sudden silence. Maureen waits—ten seconds, fifteen, twenty-one—wait for it and… now!

"Mine," Joanne growls, and pounces, and the kiss is brutal; their teeth bump, but Joanne doesn't stop, even when her teeth scrape Maureen's bottom lip hard enough to draw a little blood. When she does finally break off the kiss, her eyes are wide and she's breathing hard.

Maureen gasps in just enough air to speak. "This…" she pants. "I only want this from you." And she grabs Joanne's hand and drags her back to the bedroom. They're both stumbling a little, high on adrenaline and some other chemicals Maureen couldn't name even if she weren't busy trying to get her hand into Joanne's tailored slacks. It's a better high than anything she's ever tried, and she doesn't want this to be a mistake. She just hopes she never ODs.