A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fanfic in general, so if you've got any recommendations or comments, please review! Someone at the Idina Menzel Message Boards mentioned something about doing a Friends-RENT fic, and I decided to go ahead and try to make something to that effect. Chapter 2 is coming (once I get over this bad case of writer's block _)
DISCLAIMER: I do not own RENT or Friends. All copyrights go to their respective owners.
Part 1
*beep*
"SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK."
"Hey, Mark, Roger – it's me, Maureen. Listen, I've got something going down in St. Mark's Place this weekend, and I'd like you to be there. I've already called everyone else, and Pookie said she'd pay for your tickets. Anyway, um…I guess I'll see you guys there. Bye."
Mark stood by the answering machine, shaking his head. "Roger, *why* do I put UP with her? I mean, she always hires me out for these things, and it's just…ugh, GOD!" Roger rolled his eyes. "Could you just be reasonably calm about this for ONCE? Every fucking time she makes one of these calls all I hear is bitching and complaining from you. C'mon man, it's been like a year since she broke up with you. Let it go already! Besides, she didn't say she needed you there to help with engineering, did she?"
"No, she didn't…" Mark hesitated. On one hand, he thought, Roger's right, I should just chill out and go, but still, I just know that when I get there she'll relay some stupid bogus-wire-frying story and I'll end up reconfiguring all her crap. "Let's just go, Mark. It could be fun, and you need the time away anyway – you've been saying for weeks that you're burnt out on the East Side." Mark looked at Roger and smirked. "Why are you so adamant all of a sudden? You've never been like this about anything for as long as I've known you." Roger scoffed at his friend. "What, I can't get out of this damn apartment and enjoy a little time off?"
Mark was about to offer his rebuttal when the phone rang again. "Oh dear Jesus, who is it now?" he whined as he reluctantly and slowly picked the receiver up. "Hello? Oh, HI MOM…" he sighed as he shot looks to an increasingly amused Roger. "What's that? Oh, yeah Mom, I'm fine. Just trying to make sure that rent is paid!" He let out a little fake-laugh, the one that he always did when his mom called. "Hm? Oh, Cindy and the kids are visiting…" he pantomimed putting a gun to his head. "Wha—why do you need ME there? No—no, Mom, I quit Buzzline over a year ago. Well, frankly, the fact that one of Cindy's 'beautiful darlings' can pick up rolls of quarters with his toes isn't all that newsworthy, even in a Weirdo Central like New York. Besides, I, uh, can't. Maureen's got some show…protest…thing going down in St. Mark's Place, and she wants all of us to be there." Roger could hear Mrs. Cohen's shrill responses from clear across the room, and he mouthed, "Fuck, your mom is LOUD!"
"Yeah, sorry Mom. Tell Dad I said hi. Love you too. G'bye." Mark let out a deep sigh of relief as he hung up. "NOW can we go?" Roger begged impatiently. Mark looked at him over his square glasses, deep in thought, for a long time. "Oh, what the hell? Couldn't hurt." Roger smiled satisfactorily and went back to his coffee.