Title: Fight for Your Man: A RENT Fairy Tale
Author: CrazyEyesConnor
Feedback: Makes me happy
Pairing: Mark/Roger, mention of Mark/OC
Rating: T (Language, Minor Silliness)
Genre: Humor/Romance
Summary: What do you do when the one you love, loves somebody else? You fight for your man.
Notes: Request from lovinlex for Challenge #111 at speedrent: "I've always wanted to read a Mark/Roger story where Roger has to fight for Mark. I don't mean physically, to prove to Mark that he loves him and would do anything for him. It's always the same thing: Roger and/or Mark tells the other that he loves him, the other agrees, BAM - happily ever after. I want this fic to make Roger work for Mark. A touch of Sensitive Roger would be awesome, and I don't mind other characters showing up." You probably meant for me to write something angst-y, and I intended to write something at least kind of angst-y, but it somehow turned into a fairy tale. Despite my fangirlish love of Mark/Roger, this is actually the first story I've ever written with it as the pairing, so cross your fingers and hope for the best. I would also like to go on the record and say that I have very limited knowledge of New York geography. I tried to be vague but there may still be mistakes. Please point them out if you see them.
Spoilers: None if you've seen the show/movie.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, nor do I own the song lyrics toward the end – those are Paul McCartney's.
Once upon a time, in the far off land of the Lower East Side, there lived a boy named Roger. Roger was a songwriter and he lived in a loft in a building owned by the wicked Benny. He used to be the front man of a rock and roll band, but due to some complications involving heroin and a pretty red-head named April, this was no longer the case. After April died, there was Mimi, and after Mimi died, there was nobody. Except for Mark, Roger's roommate. Unfortunately, with Mark, there was also Gerald.
"I fucking hate Gerald," Roger said as he paced back and forth across his makeshift living room.
"Yes Roger, I know, you hate Gerald," Maureen said, munching on an apple, "Gerald wears too much cologne, Gerald doesn't respect other people's personal space, Gerald stares at your ass in a way that you're not entirely comfortable with. Fortunately, you're not the one dating him."
"But Mark could do so much better!" he said, with more than a hint of a whine.
Maureen rolled her eyes. "You'd think that after you become a lesbian, gay men would stop coming to you with their relationship prob-"
"I AM NOT GAY!"
"Of course you're not," she said, "you're just in love with Mark."
"This was so much easier when he was straight," Roger lamented, "If I didn't know he was interested in my gender this would be so much easier to get over." He whirled around toward Maureen.
"YOU! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU DID THIS TO HIM! IF YOU HADN'T BROKEN - "
"Roger, calm down!" she quickly interjected, "I think I know someone who can help you!"
"Really?" He was intrigued.
"Yes," Maureen said, "He's called the Wise Man of Central Park. I've never seen him, but I hear that he sits on a park bench near the zoo and gives people advice. Maybe he can help you."
"It's worth a shot, I guess," Roger said. Maureen handed him his guitar and gave him some words of encouragement. He set off, walking briskly, and made it to the park in record time. He headed in the direction of the zoo, keeping his head up. There were so many potential benches the Wise Man could be sitting on that he would have to be on the look out. Roger came upon a street performer, a man playing the saxophone, and he tossed some loose change in the man's case.
"Thanks man," the performer said and gave Roger a little salute.
"No problem," Roger replied, "Say, do you know where I could find the Wise Man of Central Park?"
"Ooh, now that cat's a character," the man said, "They say he once killed a man just by lookin' at him."
"Really?"
"Yeah," the performer said casually, "but that guy had it comin'. He's usually on the west side of the zoo, if you want to find him. There's a hot dog vendor over there who should be able to point you in the right direction. Tell him that Bugsy sent you."
Roger thanked the saxophonist and set off to find the hot dog vendor. He wasn't too hard to find.
"Excuse me," Roger said when he approached him, "Do you know where I could find the Wise Man of Central Park?"
"You wanna buy a hot dog?" the man snapped.
"No, that's okay," Roger said, "I just want to find the Wise Man of Central Park."
"You don't buy a hot dog, you don't get any answers!" the man was angry now.
"But Bugsy sent me!" Roger said with desperation.
"I don't care!" the man screamed, "Buy a damn hot dog, or get the hell out of here!"
But Roger had no money. He had given his change to the street performer. Wait! He had his guitar! He had learned long ago that if you played anything by the Beatles, you would earn enough money for a meal in about twenty minutes. Dumb fucking tourists coming to see Strawberry Fields loved the Beatles. So Roger played his little heart out and soon had enough money to buy a hot dog and get the information from the vendor.
"Yeah, the Wise Man of Central Park," the vendor said as Roger chewed on his hot dog, "Not the kind of guy you see everyday. They say he's from Saturn and he came to Earth to find a wife."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he said, "So far he's had no luck."
"But where can I find him?" Roger asked.
"He's sitting on that bench over there," the vendor said, pointing to a bench about ten feet away.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Roger said, "He was right there the whole time and you still made me buy a hot dog?"
The vendor shrugged, "I gotta make a living somehow."
Roger was exasperated, but he had more important things to do. He approached the Wise Man, whose back was to him.
"Are you the Wise Man of Central Park?" he asked.
The man turned around, "Who wants to know?"
"Collins?"
This was a twist Roger hadn't been expecting.
"Hi Roger."
"You're the Wise Man of Central Park?" Roger asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Collins said with a grin, "It's a pretty nice gig. People buy me hot dogs a lot. Want some advice?"
"Well yeah, I did come all the way out here," Roger said. He sat down on the bench next to Collins.
"Fight for your man," Collins said.
"What? How did you - "
"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you can't let love slip away from you. Find a way to show him that you care," he said, "Do you know what you have to do?"
Roger nodded, "I think so."
"Good," Collins said, "Now get out of here, you're not the only person who needs guidance in this park."
Roger nervously tuned his guitar and stared up at the window of the loft. He really hoped this worked. He cleared his throat and began to sing.
Oh! Darling, please believe me
I'll never do you no harm
Believe me when I tell you
I'll never do you no harm
Roger heard Mark moving around inside. He kept playing.
Oh! Darling, if you leave me
I'll never make it alone
Believe me when I beg you
Don't ever leave me alone
Mark was climbing out of the window and onto the fire escape now. He looked like he was both bemused and intrigued.
When you told me you didn't need me anymore
Well you know I nearly broke down and cried
When you told me you didn't need me anymore
Well you know I nearly broke down and –
"Roger?" Mark called down, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Uh…" Roger didn't quite know what to say. This was not a scenario he'd planned for.
"If you're trying to declare your love for me, then you're doing a really terrible job," Mark yelled over the railing, "I'm not just going to be won over by you singing Paul McCartney songs to me from the street. Come up here before you get mugged."
"Okay," Roger said, and prepared to walk up the stairs with his tail between his legs.
"Good song choice though," Mark said with what Roger could have sworn was a smile, "Very creative. Most of the time when people do the Beatles, the pick "All You Need Is Love" or "In My Life" or something."
The next day, Mark broke up with Gerald. Maureen was the one who told Roger. When he asked Mark about it, he pretended not to know what Roger was talking about.
Roger smiled. It wouldn't be easy, but Mark would come around. He was going to fight for him.