A/N: Definitely biting off more than I can chew, but I had sudden inspiration for this story. Not a Mark/Roger story; sorry! Roger/OC, Maureen/Joanne, Collins/Benny, and possible Mark/OC. Slash: don't like, don't read! PostRent, modern day. Rated T, but it's a racy/explicit T that might change to M; just be aware. Please r&r, tell me what you think!
"Goddamit Collins," Roger grumbled as Collins dragged him down Times Square, wearing bright, rainbow t-shirts, "You know I support gay marriage as much as any sane man, but why the hell am I here? Can't you guys have your celebration be just YOUR celebration?"
Collins began to chuckle at Roger's comment before laughing insanely. "Damn boy, you're here because this is YOUR celebration too! Now you, in theory," Collins winked and shoved Roger's arm, "can marry who ever the hell you want to!" Roger was openly bisexual, but the gay community didn't suit him and his romantic wants. Everyone at this rally seemed like a shameful closet case, a junkie, or a flamboyant flamer. All of them were semi-decent people, Roger was sure, but he wanted the closest thing to a normal person possible. Mimi was gone, but that didn't mean he had to fill her spot immediately. As cliché as it sounded, Roger was waiting for Mr. Right to step into his life.
"But my dear Collins," Roger began with more sarcasm than an episode of the Colbert Report, "there are many phases before marriage. One of the first ones is having a relationship, or even before that, a date."
"Oh I see, Roger the single jackass again," a name Collins so affectionately gave Roger whenever he chose to complain about the people in New York or being single in general. At that moment a young cross dresser came up to Collins and slapped his butt. Collins chuckled before sighing. "Man I'm flattered and all, but I've been to this spot, sorry,"
"Honey," the young cross dresser said in the stereotypical gay voice that drove Roger insane, "who said I was looking for anything! Learn to flirt a little!"
"Damn Collins, looks like you just got shut down!" Roger couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Whateva pretty boy, Imma go get a hurricane. You want one? Cuz you look like you could use a drink," Collins offered, not amused by Roger's glee.
"Yeah put me down for one I guess," Roger replied as his rapid laughter died down and he caught his breath. He stood there for a minute after Collins had gone just studying his surroundings. Nearby a few couples had a massage train and 5 guys were shooting up. "Poor bastards" Roger thought before he allowed a contemptuous smile come to his face. He would never have admitted it, but he didn't mind being there. It was nice to get out of the loft without Mark babying him to take his AZT or fretting that he'd catch a cold.
Roger looked around, "Everyone else is having so much fun," he thought. Maybe he should have done something wild, stupid or both. Roger stood and bobbed his head in hopes that maybe it would attract someone looking for an ex-junkie, sort of up-and-coming guitarist. After 2 minutes, Roger realized his attempt was futile and went to look for Collins.
Roger roamed around and saw some very interesting people, no one that he was interested in however. While looking at a lesbian couple make out, he bumped into something, a tree maybe.
"Shit, I'm sorry!" Roger exclaimed. What he saw dazzled him. A young man, about 28, stood there before him with a look professing the same apology back to him. He was about 6'3" with perfectly tanned skin. He had just a few freckles grazing his shoulders, which were exposed in his black tank top. His hair was a medium brown and was neatly brushed down on the sides and in the back, but in the front it was spiked up, similarly to the fashion of Mark's hair, only more straight up and less flipped back. Matching his hair perfectly were his eyes. They were a deep chocolate brown that seemed normal at first glance, but were so deep and full of life Roger couldn't help but crack a smile. He had the perfect amount of scruff on his face that accented his smooth lips. Looking further down, Roger saw his muscular legs from under a pair of rolled up jeans he was sporting as capris coupled with brown leather flip flops that accentuated the brown-cloth belt that held his jeans up, but not by too much. They still hung naturally at his slim hips. "I uhm, I was just, uh," Roger stuttered. Roger never stuttered before. "Have you seen a tall black man, wearing a beanie, supposedly with 2 hurricanes around?"
"No sorry! And I am so sorry for bumping into you like that, I should probably watch where I'm going," the young man replied with an apologetic yet genuine smile. His voice was as smooth as silk. It seemed so melismatic that it was as if he was singing. The young man really baffled Roger and stunned him to a startling extent.
"Right, well, uhm enjoy the celebration I guess," Roger said. "Wow, he's normal and cute, well at least he seems normal" Roger thought.
"You too! And good luck finding your boyfriend!" he called back. Like Roger would ever date Collins.
Collins, who was apparently a few yards away and witnessed the whole ordeal, came over. "Rog man, you got it bad. You should've asked his name boy!" Collins wailed while simultaneously slapping Roger on the shoulder.
"Nawh man, he's just some guy celebrating his right to marry. Besides, he thinks I'm taken," Roger boasted.
"Oh yeah, why's that? Because of your irresistible charm, your hair, or your rock star image?" Collins inquired sarcastically.
"I asked where the black guy in a beanie with 2 hurricanes was and he thought you were my boyfriend!" Roger taunted.
"Like I would ever date yo sorry ass Rog," Collins replied rather sassily. With that the young, charming man looked back, his gaze meeting Roger's for a brief moment before he blushed and went back to his friends. Collins, having seen the encounter asked, "So are you gonna go over and ask him out?"
Then Roger told what he knew was a huge lie and contradicted everything he felt, "Nawh man, he's just some random guy."
