And To All A Good Night
Notes: I've succumbed to Christmas fluff. Shoot me. And it's probably the closest I'll ever get to RENT humour and it's not even funny. Ha. I know Mark is Jewish, and I know I don't make any mention of that in here, but I don't it really mattered. ;) love you all, happy holiday junk!
Roger glared at the floor, his fingers picking irritably at his guitar. This time last year Mimi had been dying on the very table he sat on now. And then she'd died a few months later, spending all of them sick in either their bed or a hospital. Roger closed his eyes and his fingers found the first line of 'Your Eyes' before he smacked his hand down over the strings to stop the noise. He sighed heavily. Where the fuck was Mark?
Almost on cue, he could hear the footsteps in the hallway of Mark returning back from spending most of Christmas Eve with Maureen and Joanne. Roger had declined to venture out for any reason, as he'd been doing for months. He was in a bit of a slump. When he heard Mark curse at not being able to stick the key in the lock on the first try, Roger rolled his eyes. Mark was drunk. Or at least mildly smashed, Mark didn't really get drunk. Roger smiled. He got tipsy and acted slutty.
"Roger, open the door!" Mark called out, the words running together but still comprehensible.
Roger set his guitar down on the table and slid off, walking over to the door and opening it for his friend. Mark smiled at him, shoving his camera into Roger's arms and walking past him, collapsing on the couch.
"I'm so tired." He moaned. "And my head hurts."
Roger set his camera down on the table. "I'm guessing you don't want that on film."
Mark made a face. "Maureen wouldn't stop filling my glass." He pouted. Mark pulled his scarf off and put it over his head. "It's really bright in here."
Roger smirked and kneeled next to the couch. "Not really."
"Can you turn the light off?"
Mark sounded small, pleading and childish. Roger smiled gently despite himself.
"Well if I do that, I won't be able to see well enough to make you tea."
Mark removed his scarf. "You would?"
Roger shrugged. "I could try my luck."
Mark nodded and put his scarf over his head. "Don't put a lot of sugar in it," He mumbled. "Please." He added a moment later.
Roger squeezed his shoulder. "No problem, buddy."
When faced with the task of actually making said tea, Roger was a bit confused. He figured out the water boiling well enough, but then had to pick from Mark's immense tea collection. Roger frowned, picking up one box and staring at it blankly.
This is where all of his money goes, he thought.
Finally deciding on a harmless looking bag with a blue label, Roger plopped it into the cup he'd found and then decided that one bag of stolen restaurant sugar would suffice. He tore it open and started to pour the contents into the cup.
"That's fine." Mark said from behind him, making Roger jump and look around.
"Fuck, Mark." He said, holding the cup out to his friend. "Don't do that. I thought you were on the couch."
"I think heroin's made you jumpy, Rog." Mark said, with a masculine imitation of a giggle.
Roger rolled his eyes. "And all this organic herby shit has made you a bit fucked."
Mark smiled. "You made my favourite. How'd you know?"
Roger shrugged. "Lucky guess." He leaned in the doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets. He inadvertently looked up and realized he was below the mistletoe that Maureen had put there earlier in the week when she'd insisted that 'even shitholes need to look festive'. Roger had told her to fuck off and avoided the kitchen doorway ever since.
Mark saw his glance and subsequent look of disgust. He laughed and set his tea down.
"You know it means I get to kiss you now, Roger." He told him.
Roger crossed his arms. "You wouldn't."
Mark started toward him. "You're not moving, Rog. Aren't you going to try to run?"
"You're not going to do anything." Roger said, watching Mark cautiously.
Mark squeezed into the doorway with Roger. "I know you're sad, but it's Christmas, Rog."
Roger frowned. "All the better."
Mark grinned. "Scrooge."
Roger rolled his eyes. "It's better than dancing around drunk like a fucking elf with Maureen."
"It didn't last that long," Mark said. "Joanne made us stop because she didn't want Maureen flirting with me."
"Probably a good call." Roger said, looking away.
"Roger,"
Roger looked back at Mark.
"My head hurts."
Roger rolled his eyes. "Well c'mon then, go to bed."
Mark looked slightly sick. "I don't think I'm gonna make it."
Roger pushed himself off of the wall and moved to Mark's side, dipping down and hooking an arm around Mark's knees and another under his back, carrying him with minimal effort into Mark's bedroom. He put him into the bed and pulled the covers over his head playfully. Mark pushed them away, making a face at Roger.
"Rog, I don't have my tea." Mark whined.
Roger rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the tea, setting it on the floor beside Mark's mattress.
"Anything else, your highness?"
Mark smiled and shook his head. "Just turn the light off, Rog. It's burning my retinas."
"Only you'd remember what a retina is when you're wasted." Roger told him, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Mark touched Roger's hand with his fingers. "You never gave me my kiss, Roger." He joked.
Roger smiled. "I figured you didn't want to kiss a scrooge."
"I was wrong," Mark said. "You're too emotionally frigid to be a scrooge."
"So what am I then?"
"You're a grinch." Mark giggled.
"But the grinch's heart gets bigger at the end too, remember?"
"Well then you're just Roger, the Christmas Grump."
Roger smirked. "I'll wear that title proudly."
"Goodnight, Grumps." Mark said mid yawn, closing his eyes.
Roger leaned over and brushed his lips against Mark's forehead. "Goodnight, Marky."
Roger smiled and touched Mark's hair gently. Sometimes it felt good to be the responsible one.
Notes Continued: Merry Holiday junk again. I wasn't going to do anything until after Atheist Children Get Presents Day, but I needed a bit of happy M/R to brighten my day. ;) love you all.