A/N: Sorry sorry sorry! I know it's been a super long time since I've updated…I had the flu, I was on vacation, my beta is currently MIA…etc, etc. Anyway, I'm back now, and I'd like to thank you all for your fabulous reviews – they make my day! This chapter is dedicated to Edie, for just being plain wonderful!
And now…Mark's day as Maureen!

Mark POV

"Oh, Mark!" Maureen moans, kissing me fiercely.

"Maureen, I want you." I pull her close. "I need you."

"Let's take this into the bedroom." Maureen arches an eyebrow suggestively.

"Let's." I growl, picking her up and marching eagerly towards the bedroom ‐

"Marky! Mark, wake up!"

I groaned and pulled a pillow over my head. Why did Roger always interrupt my dirty dreams when they were just getting good?

"Mark!" There was a sharp, jabbing pain in my side.

"Go away, Roger." I grumbled.

"Nuh uh, honey. You gotta get up."More poking.

"Roger, if this is about helping you blow-dry your hair, I ‐" Wait a second. Roger didn't call me 'honey'. I knew only one person who called me honey...

"Angel?!" My eyes snapped open to find Angel, dressed in her drumming clothes, leaning over me, grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Angel trilled, whipping off my duvet with a flick of her wrist. "Sounds like quite a dream." she winked.

I felt myself turning red. Desperate for a distraction, I asked the first question that came into my head.

"Angel, what are you doing here? It's ‐" I squinted at the clock. "4 am? Angel, what could possibly have possessed you to believe I would benefit from being woken up at 4 a-freaking-m?" I asked, shoving on my glasses with a lot more force than necessary.

Angel shook her head impatiently. "I'm being you today, remember? I thought I might as well get a head start! Nice boxers, by the way."

I blushed again as I glanced down at my Donald Duck underpants. "Maureen gave them to me."

Angel nodded knowingly. "I guessed as much. Anyway, honey, I've already sent Joanne over to my place, so you can head over to hers and Maureen's."

"Kay," I mumbled, shuffling over to the wardrobe.

"Here, take mine!" Angel exclaimed, taking off her shirt with lightening speed.

"Angel, what are you doing?!"

Angel snorted, halfway through the act of removing her pants. "Please, Marky, now's not the time for being uncomfortable. I was at Maureen's birthday party after all."

I shivered. "I'd been trying to suppress those memories, actually."

"Sorry, sugar." Angel kissed my cheek happily and handed over her tight fitted jeans.

I huddled in a corner as I pulled on Angel's clothes, listening to her flit about the room as she sang a song about sharing thousands of sweet kisses. I knew who I'd like to share thousands of sweet kisses with...

"Mark, honey, you're drooling." Angel giggled, wiping the saliva off my chin. "Do I look that good?" she struck a pose and I realised she was wearing a worn pair of pink bunny pyjamas.

"I ‐ uh ‐ they were another gift from Maureen."

"Of course they were." Angel winked.

Face beetroot red, I reached for my camera bag. "Well, I guess I'll, uh, get going." I turned to leave, but Angel grabbed hold of my bag and pulled me backwards.

"Ouch! What the hell, Angel?!"

"I'm being you today, hun. That means no camera."

Horrible, bar mitzvah-related images flashed through my mind.

"But I ‐ I can't ‐"

"You're gonna have to, sweetie. I give up drag, you give up your camera." Angel tightened her grip.

"But it's my camera." I whined, tugging at the strap. I mean, Angel was threatening to take away my identity here. Me without my camera was like Collins without his beanie or...or Mimi without the handcuffs.

"Well, honey, I know this is hard for you, but maybe you and your camera need to go on a break."

"Nuh uh!" I snapped, grabbing back the camera bag.

"Yeah huh." Angel grinned and snatched it back from me. "Now, Mark, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

I eyed Angel warily ‐ she wasn't wearing her stilettos, but I didn't doubt she could still do some serious damage. Angel had been known to incapacitate the odd homophobe when she was provoked.

Sighing, I handed over the camera bag. Angel smiled approvingly. "Good boy."

"Yeah, yeah." I crossed the loft, heading for the door.

"Hold on, sweetie, aren't you forgetting something?" Angel looked pointedly at the scarf I'd slung around my neck.

"No way." I backed away from Angel, clutching my scarf. "You can't take Mr Scarfy ‐" I clamped a hand over my mouth, mortified.

"What did you just say?" Angel giggled.

"I...ugh, just take the scarf." I handed over the accursed piece of fabric and turned to leave once more.

"Marky!" Angel called.

"What!?" I growled, wheeling around once more. "What now? Do you want my glasses too?"

Angel's eyes widened. "Ooh, I hadn't thought about that! Good job, honey!" She then snatched my glasses of the bridge of my nose and put them on.

"Whoa," she blinked. "Mark, sweetie, you're blind."

"Shut up." I mumbled and headed once more for the (now slightly blurry) door.

"Have fun being Maureen, sugar!" Angel waved.

"Whatever." I replied, walking smack into the doorframe. "Ouch."

"Honey, are you sure you can see okay without these?" Angel asked concernedly.

"Oh, I'm fine." I said, blinking furiously. "I'll, um, see you later."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Bye."

"Bye!" And I stumbled blindly out the door.

--

I let myself into Maureen and Joanne's apartment (Maureen hadn't answered the door since 1982) and felt my way across the living room to the bedroom. Maureen was curled up under the duvet, snoozing lightly. I started to back away, feeling like an intruder when Maureen rolled over and stretched out her arms to me.

"Pookie..." she groaned.

Without thinking, I ran (as fast as my blurry vision would allow) to her bedside. "I'm here, Maureen, I'm here."

"Come back to bed." she mumbled, burying her face in her pillow.

It was an invitation that didn't have to be made twice; I was in bed beside her within five seconds. I then realised I was in bed with Maureen and that Joanne was going to rip my head off when she found out. I turned to get out of bed again when Maureen grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

"Mmm, Pookie, go back to sleep." she pushed against my chest.

"I, uh, okay..." I hesitated, before lying down again.

"That's better." Maureen rubbed at her eyes, before settling back into her pillow. I followed suit, trying very hard to not relive my dirty dream from this morning.

--

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

The ear-piercing shriek wrenched me from another of my dirty fantasies with a start.

"What's happening?" I rubbed my pounding head.

"YOU!" Maureen screamed. "What are you doing here? Did I ‐ have we ‐ oh my gosh, we have!" she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"No, no, we haven't...." I said hastily. Even though I so wanted to. "I'm here for the swapping places thing, remember? Joanne?"

"Oh." Maureen blinked. "Of course. Sorry, Honeybear. Well," she practically jumped out of bed. "I'd better go get ready for work." she strode to the bathroom Joanne-style.

I stared after her. Maureen was a very strange person.

Yawning, I decided I might as well get up now, and I pushed myself out of the bed. My vision was still slightly cloudly, so I tripped over my own feet on my way to the wardrobe. Cursing Angel and rubbing my aching shin, I opened the wardrobe door and started pulling on a pair of Maureen's baggiest jeans. Halfway through the process, Maureen came up behind me and wrapped an arm around me.

"Oh, Honeybear, are you really going to wear those ratty old jeans?" she asked, speaking in her 'Joanne' voice. "You know how much I love you in leather." she pinched my butt, causing me to let out a little, very unmasculine yelp. Maureen giggled.

"Well, I've got to get going. We have that big Masen trial today." Maureen tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'll see you later, honey." she gave me a peck on the cheek and swept from the room.

Feeling slightly dizzy, I pulled on Maureen's favourite pair of leather pants (which were, not so surprisingly, uncomfortably tight) and grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen. As I was chewing and attempting to think Maureen-y thoughts (i.e. be self-absorbed and have dirty thoughts about everyone I knew), I caught sight of a piece of paper taped to the fridge.

To Do List:

-Pick up dry cleaning

-Go to sound check in the space at 9:30

-Write new protest

I chuckled at Maureen's not-so-subtle instructions. I looked at the clock on the wall - 9:15. I swallowed the last bite of granola bar and headed out onto the streets, noticing how very cold my neck was feeling.

--

I walked into the performance space (after two failed tries of bumping into the wall) to find it empty except for one person, who was fiddling with the sound equipment. He glanced up and I recognised him immediately.

"Paul!" I called out, waving.

"Mark?" he squinted at me. "How come you're not wearing your glasses?"

"No, no, not Mark." I replied, trying to exude Maureen vibes. "He's my ex-boyfriend. I'm Maureen Johnson." I shook his hand eagerly.

Paul shook my hand confusedly. "But...I've met Maureen...at Life Support a few weeks ago...and then she asked me to come fix her sound equipment..." How often did Maureen break that stuff?

"Oh, yeah, well, that was me!" I said, waving my hands around in a dramatic fashion. "And here I am again!"

Paul shook his head. "But I -"

"Let's get this show on the road." I clapped my hands and mounted the stage, trying not to think about how stupid I must look.

"Um, okay," Paul straightened up, looking frightened for his life. "Well, the samples aren't delaying, like, ahem, you told me on the phone. I just can't seem to find the problem..." he turned his attention back to the equipment, flicking random switches.

"Uh...I'll just, uh, sing stuff, I guess." I scratched my head, trying to think of a song.

"Uhm...You can dance, you can ji-ive, having the time of your li-ife." the digital delay beside me started to spark.

"Oh, it's fine, they often do that." Paul assured me.

"Oh...okay...uhm...Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen." the digital delay promptly burst into flames. "AHH!" I squealed, shielding myself from the flames.

"Oh no! I'll, um, I'll get some, um...water! Yes, water!" Paul, obviously not built to deal with emergencies, scuttled off, wiping his sweaty forehead.

I had to admit, it felt great being Maureen and not having to worry about anything but my own safety. With this thought in mind, I ran around screaming and doing nothing helpful until Paul returned with a large bucket of water.

"Stand back!" he commanded in his quavery voice, running towards the stage. I screamed and rolled out of the way, as Paul emptied the contents over the digital delay system. This sent huge sparks flying in all directions, before the digital delay gave a final wheeze and moved on to that great electronics department in the sky.

"I think you may need to get a new one." Paul said, dabbing at his forehead once more.

"What!?" I shrieked, launching into diva-fit mode. "This is my baby you want me to replace! After you killed her! You killed my baby! She had a name, you know! It was Dorothy! And you killed her!" I erupted into fake sobs, completely alarming the already freaked-out Paul.

"Well, um, Maureen, I know it's hard when you lose something, er, someone you care about..." Paul began, switching to his 'Life Support' tone.

"She wasn't just a someone! I loved Dorothy! And now I need to buy a REPLACEMENT!?" I wailed.

Paul sighed. "I guess my job insurance could cover the cost of repairs..."

I squealed and threw my arms around the poor man. "Thanks so much, Paul! Dorothy will live because of you! You're a hero!"

"Just doing my job." Paul shrugged.

"Well, good job!" I patted his head and looked at my watch. "Oh, look at the time! Thanks for helping me clean this up!" I blew him several kisses and practically skipped from the performance space.

Well, I had just embarrassed myself beyond belief and possibly scarred Paul for life. I made a pretty good Maureen, if I say so myself.

I checked off 'Go to performance space' on my list and then hurried away to find Maureen's dry cleaners (I hurried because of the weird looks I was getting - who knew leather pants attracted so much attention?). The place wasn't hard to find (thankfully, seeing as I was still half-blind without my glasses) - it was just around the corner from her apartment. From what I could tell, its entire staff consisted of young Italian men wearing leather pants i.e. Maureen's idea of heaven.

I entered the laundromat, trying to appear as if I belonged there.

"Um, hi." I smiled at the Italian man sitting at the counter. "I'm here to pick up some laundry - name, Maureen Johnson."

The boy's eyes widened and he looked me up and down in (apparent) shock. "Are you..." he gulped. "Signorina Joanne?"

I snorted derisively, tossing invisible hair over my shoulder. "Um, no, I'm Maureen."

He shook his head, appalled. "You are not Signorina Maureen! You are some small, pumpkin-headed man! You are trying to take someone's laundry?"

"What - I - no! See, I'm just pretending to be Maureen today -"

"Get out." the young man said fiercely. "Whaddaya take me for? Some idiot?"

"No, of course not! But I am Maur -" That was as far as I got before I was forcibly ejected from the laundromat. I scrambled to my feet, flipped off the glaring italian man and then ran back to the apartment, thoroughly mortified.

--

I collapsed into a chair the second I got home and pulled out my checklist. I squinted at Maureen's messy handwriting. Write new protest. How was I supposed to do that? Maureen had read my screenplays, she knew how awful they were. Oh, well. I sighed, took out a piece of paper and cracked my knuckles. This couldn't be so hard.

Okay, I was just going to go through this logically. First, I needed something to protest about. I chewed on my pen thoughtfully. Well, I didn't like Benny, so I guess I could protest about him...

Feeling motivated, I scrawled Benny sucks across the top of the page. Then I underlined it twice. And asterixed it. And doodled a little picture of me decapitating Benny in the corner. And then one of him being hung. And one of me in a Superman costume.

I was halfway through a dirty limerick about me and Maureen, when the diva herself walked through the door. I squinted down at the piece of paper, which was blank except for its title and my various inappropriate sketches.

"Hi, honey," she said, looking tired but beaming from ear to ear. "I brought us a little treat." she pulled out a bottle of champagne. My eyes widened.

"What's the occasion?" Was Maureen trying to get me drunk? Not that I had any objection...

"We won the Masen trial!" Maureen said, her chest swelled with pride.

"That's amazing, Pookie! You completely deserve it!" I hugged her tightly, and she responded with a huge kiss on my cheek.

Smiling stupidly, I poured myself a glass of champagne and downed it in one - Maureen-style. Maureen followed suit, yawning slightly.

"Honeybear," another yawn. "I'm just so tired, I think I'll go to bed right now."

"Oh, okay. 'Night." I poured another glass of champagne.

Maureen frowned. "I mean, these lawyer clothes are just so tight." she groaned.

"I - uh - I..." I swallowed, making an audible gulping noise. Maureen knew I was still in love with her, why was she doing this to me?

"So...I'll just go to bed...on my own." Maureen winked.

Wait a second. I was Maureen. With Joanne, whatever made Maureen happy (within reason, Maureen still hadn't gotten that pet alligator) made Joanne happy.

"Oh, Pookie..." I called, rushing across the room and whacking my head on the doorframe. "Oww..." I whined.

"Honey, are you okay?" Maureen asked, alarmed.

"No," I pouted and rubbed the newly-formed bump on my head. Suddenly, I had a genius idea. "Pookie, there is one thing that could cheer me up..."

Maureen raised an eyebrow. "Anything to make you feel better, Honeybear."

I smiled, and led the way into the bedroom. Time to pick up where my dirty dream left off...

--

Ring, ring!

I pulled the pillow over my head, trying to get away from the annoying ringing.

Ring, ring!

"Ugh..." Maureen's hand emerged from under the blankets and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" she yawned. "What? Okay, okay, Roger, slow down. What happened?"

Roger? What was wrong? I sat up quickly, rubbing at my blurry eyes.

Maureen was nodding calmly. "Okay, where are you? Alright, we'll be there soon. Bye, Roger." she hung up and turned to me, her tone clipped and business-like. "Mimi's in the hospital, Roger said to come ASAP." she stretched, climbing out of bed. I couldn't help but stare at her.

I shook my head, locking away all inappropriate thoughts. "What happened to, uh, her?"

"Something about hitting her head on a pole at the Cat Scratch." Maureen said blithely.

I buried my face in my hands. Oh, Roger...

"Aren't you going to get ready?" Maureen asked, pulling on her pants once more.

"Actually..." I looked pointedly at Maureen's uncovered chest. Maureen laughed and shook her head.

"Honestly, Maureen," she said, buttoning up her shirt. "Mimi is in hospital right now! Don't you ever think of anyone but yourself?"

I scowled at my feet and hurridly pulled on some clothes. "Fine. Let's go."

Maureen took my hand, and led me out of the door. I looked longingly back at the bedroom.

Curse Roger Davis and his ability to get hit by poles.

A/N: Well, there you have it! Was it worth the wait? Please review, you'll get virtual cookies! Also, I now have a poll on my profile so that you can vote on which character you'd like to see next!

-Ellie :D