Disclaimer: I don't own RENT. Or Cap'n Crunch. Or Cheerios.
A/N: This is my first RENT oneshot, so please be kind…I thought of it during my 8am class when I was bored and I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so I was hungry, too. Which therefore accounts for the plot of this silly little fic. Also, it's based on some narration in another fic I'm writing, "All You Need is No Day But Today", a RENT/Across the Universe crossover. Enjoy…
Roger Davis trudged out of his room and into the kitchen area of the loft, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled to no end. It was a little earlier than usual for him to be up on a weekday, but his growling stomach had woken him from his otherwise halfway decent slumber. A box of Cap'n Crunch would taste so good, he thought as he approached his roommate, Mark Cohen. He had a spoon, a bowl and what was left of a carton of milk sitting on the counter in front of him. Roger paused, however, when he noticed what Mark held in his hand.
"Dude, stop." the rocker commanded. Mark was momentarily confused but stopped what he was doing anyway. Roger's eyes locked on the opening of the unmistakably bright red cereal box that hovered over the empty bowl, staring at it hungrily.
"What?" Mark followed Roger's line of vision to the Cap'n Crunch box he was holding, wordlessly questioning whether or not it had expired. Even though Collins had brought it a few days ago, the filmmaker checked the expiration date to be sure. It was still good, so he wondered why Roger was looking at him as if he was going to beat the shit out of him.
"I was gonna eat that." He said it like it was the most obvious statement in the world, like Mark should have known what food Roger was going to consume today. As if Mark was psychically in tune with his roommate's eating habits. Then again, maybe he should've known. Roger was especially territorial when it came to food, most specifically brand name products once they entered the loft because of Collins' generous donations.
But, on the other hand, they were both pretty defensive about their Cap'n Crunch. It was kind of addictive, to be honest. While Mark had always generally enjoyed the cereal, Roger had taken to eating it in order to fill the void created by his withdrawal from heroin. Therefore, he had become addicted to something else; he supplemented his drug high for a sugar high and he preferred it that way.
The Boho boys knew that there was only enough of that sweet, crunchy, golden cereal left in that box to feed just one person.
Who would get it was the real challenge.
"Not this again…" Mark sighed, setting the cereal box onto the counter. He was terribly afraid that this petty argument was going to morph into one of those ridiculous, childish fights. "Roger, I got here first." That kind of sounded childish, Mark had to admit, but he was simply stating a point.
"So?" Roger countered, "I'm hungry." He made a lunge for the box, but Mark grabbed it and stepped back from the counter, holding it close to him.
"Well, so am I."
"Come on, man," Roger rubbed his protesting stomach, pouting a little, "my stomach's eating itself as we speak. That can't be good."
"You shouldn't have skipped dinner last night," Mark told him. Still keeping the box of Cap'n Crunch in his possession, he opened up one of the cupboards and retrieved a half eaten box of Cheerios. "Here, have this."
The rocker glared at the yellow box indignantly. "I'm not eating that shit."
"It's good for you."
"I don't give a fuck. I want my cavity inducing, artery clogging box of sugar, thank you."
Mark placed the box down. "Fine. Let's flip a coin for it, then."
Roger laughed. "Right."
"What's so wrong with that?"
"It's a stupid idea, Mark."
Mark smirked. "No, it's not. You think it's stupid because you're afraid you'll lose."
"I never said that."
"If you hate it, then you come up with something, Einstein."
They stood in silence for a few moments, every so often glancing at the Cap'n Crunch then at each other. Roger contemplated suggesting rock, paper, scissors, but thought that was just as bad as flipping a damn coin so he decided against it.
"I got nothing," the rocker muttered. Another tense silence passed, which turned into a staring game until Roger said loudly, "Okay, fuck this--I'm takin' it."
He made another attempt to take the Cap'n Crunch from his roommate, practically diving across the counter as Mark snatched it. He tackled the filmmaker, who had tossed the box back to its original spot--to save it from falling--before Roger's muscular body collided with his scrawny form. Scrambling off the floor, Roger leapt toward it, Mark chasing after him. Sometime in between that and the point where they both landed on the counter again, the box went flying…
The Boho boys immediately halted--Roger had a fistful of Mark's shirt and Mark had a strong hold on a chunk of his friend's overgrown hair--and watched the whole thing as if it was happening in slow-motion. The box toppled off the counter and fell to the floor, hitting it with a crushing, devastating thud. The two of them shared a look of object horror and shoved each other away, walking around to the other side to inspect the damage.
"Fuck!" They shouted simultaneously.
It was a lost cause, plain and simple. The box had landed upside down, its contents spilled and flattened, strewn across the floor. Mark and Roger threw each other numerous shocked and confused glances before Roger traversed the loft, stomping his feet like a five-year-old. Mark was kind of terrified of what his friend was plotting to do, especially when he picked up his lighter from the table.
"Roger…"
Mark almost had a heart attack when Roger seized his scarf--his beloved scarf--from the chair and held the lighter under it.
"It's your damn fault I don't have any Cap'n Crunch now, camera boy."
"My fault? You're the one who knocked it over!"
"I did not!"
"Did, too!"
Mark raced to grab Roger's guitar from where it was sitting on the couch, meeting his friend's challenge. He opened up the window to the fire escape and stood on the windowsill.
"I'll drop it." he declared.
"No, you won't."
"If you burn that, I will."
"No, you fucking won't."
"Roger--" Mark warned.
It continued like this even as Collins entered the loft. The two of them were so engrossed in yelling threats back and forth about destroying each other's personal property that neither one noticed the philosopher. Collins saw the overturned box of Cap'n Crunch on the floor and chuckled a little, able to guess what had sparked this battle of wills. Some things never changed. He shook his head and went into his room, returning a few moments later with what he had gone in there to get.
Roger paused from the argument, listening intently. It sounded like…crunching. Mark must've heard it, too, because he turned in the direction of where it was coming from. There, standing at the counter, was Collins. He was munching contently on a fresh bowl of Cap'n Crunch. Mark and Roger looked from the spilled box to the completely new box sitting in front of Collins and shared a look of utter disbelief. Slowly, they let go of each other's belongings and approached their friend.
"Collins, where did you get that?" Mark inquired.
The professor reluctantly glanced up from his bowl, wearing an expression similar to a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
"This?" he laughed, trying to brush it off.
"Yes, that." Roger answered, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Secret stash in my room," he admitted. His friends seemed angry. "Hey, I'm not getting in the middle of The Cap'n Crunch Fight. You should see yourselves…" He started chuckling again, but it tapered off once he saw the expressions on their faces.
Mark and Roger looked at him, livid, and gradually inched closer, going in for the cereal…
Collins took the box and the bowl and hugged them both to his chest. "Oh, shit."
A/N: I hope that wasn't too bad. Nothing much, but the plot bunny wouldn't let me go. Somehow, seeing Mark and Roger fight over cereal like little kids is amusing. Please review! It's appreciated! (And please check out my Across the Universe/RENT crossover if you're an ATU fan!)