…
Mimi stood at the kitchen counter of Mark and Roger's loft, peeling apples and humming to herself. It was only when Roger returned from buying firewood and stopped in the doorway, pinning her with a bemused expression, that she realised exactly what it was she had been singing.
"Is that Musetta's Waltz I hear?" Roger grinned.
"It's contagious," Mimi replied, cutting a freshly peeled apple into pieces and placing them in a pot of water.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm practising exactly how I'm going to cut you up into little bits for getting this stupid song in my head," Mimi laughed, waving the knife at her boyfriend.
"It's not stupid," he sulked, stamping his foot in a mock tantrum.
"Don't make me laugh!" Mimi shrieked. "I nearly cut my finger off!"
"Oops," said Roger innocently. He picked up a piece of apple and bit into it. "What are you really doing?"
Mimi stole the rest of his apple and ate it herself. "No picking," she scolded, then explained, "I'm gonna stew them. My mom used to do this all the time."
She slapped Roger's hand as he tried to take another piece of apple. "No! Stop!"
"Fine," he laughed, and picked up a length of apple peel. "Did you ever do that thing where you throw the peel over your shoulder?"
"Isn't it supposed to tell you who you're gonna marry or something?"
"I think so," Roger nodded.
"Try it," Mimi grinned.
Roger raised his eyebrows. "Me? Married? Are you kidding?"
"Oh, please?" Mimi sprinkled some sugar over the apples and put the pot on the stove.
"Okay," Roger shrugged, and tossed the peel over his shoulder. The two of them looked at the shape on the ground.
"Doesn't look much like anything," Mimi frowned.
"See? I told you. It means I'm never getting married."
"No, wait- " Mimi squinted at the peel, turning her head from side to side. "It's an A," she announced.
"Right," Roger said. "What does that mean, then?"
Mimi rounded on him, brandishing the knife. "It means you're cheating on me with Angel, you jerk!"
Roger held up his hands in defence. "I'm sorry, okay? We were going to tell you, but… We just never found the right time."
"Oh, sure you didn't," Mimi grinned, and put the knife down. "It's okay, though, I guess, cuz me and Collins, we're…"
"Collins?" Roger laughed.
"Yes!" Mimi giggled, picking up the apple peel. "See?"
She threw the peel over her shoulder triumphantly.
"Honey?" Roger said gently. "That's an M."
"Oh." Mimi looked vaguely disappointed. "Although I got a thing with Mark, too, so I guess it's still right."
"Mark?" Roger held her by the shoulders. "My best friend? How could you?"
"I thought the guitar was your best friend," Mimi mocked.
"Shut up," Roger grinned. "At least I'm not marrying Mark."
"I should hope not," Mimi smiled, kissing him. He lifted her so she could sit on the counter. They were oblivious to the fact that Mark had walked in until he cleared his throat at them.
Roger looked up. "Oh, hey, Mark."
"Hey," Mark replied, rasing an eyebrow at them. "I probably don't want to know the answer to this, but why are you guys making out in the middle of the kitchen?"
"Oh!" Mimi jumped lightly off the counter to check on her apples. "I was cooking."
"You cook?" Mark was surprised.
"I am a woman of many talents, thank you very much," Mimi informed him.
"I'll say," Roger grinned.
She turned to him. "You still haven't made up for the whole Angel thing yet, Mister."
"I have to make up for that?"
Mimi shrugged and turned back to the stove. "Well, if you don't want to- "
Roger grabbed her by the waist and turned her to face him. "I didn't say that."
"Well, in that case…" Mimi took Roger's hand and led him towards the bedroom.
"Marky," she called over her shoulder. "Can you check the apples in a while?"
…
By the time Roger and Mimi returned to the kitchen, the loft was empty. Mimi frowned. "Where'd he go?"
Roger walked over to the counter, where Mimi's pot was sitting. He opened it to find it was completely empty.
"Meems?"
"Uh-huh?"
"You're out of apples."
"What? He ate them? I'm gonna kill him!"
"He left a note," Roger offered. "It says, 'gone to buy more apples'."
Mimi let out a frustrated cry. "I don't believe he ate the whole…"
She stopped. Lying on the floor in front of her was the peel that she and Roger had thrown, but it was different to how they'd left it.
"Mark must have tried it," Mimi frowned, trying to work out what letter the shape most resembled.
"It's an L," Roger said.
"No, it's got an extra bit." Mimi pointed. She coked her head, and started to laugh.
"What?" Roger looked confused.
"It's…" Mimi drew a deep breath to calm herself. "It's a camera!"
Roger snorted with laughter. "Clearly they're meant to be."
"Oh, yeah," Mimi giggled.
Roger picked up the peel again. "It didn't give me the right answer the first time," he said, and tossed it over his shoulder.
"It's an M!" Mimi squealed.
Roger grinned. "I wonder if Maureen would say yes?"
"I hate you," Mimi laughed.
"No, you don't," he reminded her.
"Fine," she pouted. "You'll have to make up for that one, too."
"That I can do," Roger smiled.
…
This time, when Mark came home, there was no point in him clearing his throat. He just quietly closed the door and hoped that one day the image of his roommates doing the nasty on the kitchen floor would be blotted from his memory.