A/N: Eek, it's been almost a month! Sorry! But it's not entirely my fault. The computers at my school are completely out of whack, so I kept losing whatever I typed there, and I couldn't e-mail it to myself to finish at home because the internet's down, too. But I finally got this, the LAST CHAPTER up. Phew...Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy it!
Trusting Desire
The next morning, Joanne felt someone shaking her awake.
"Joanne!"
"Mm…five more minutes…"
"No more minutes!" The blanket was pulled off, and the lawyer sat up suddenly in the cold. A fully-dressed Mimi crouched in front of her.
Joanne yawned. "It's Saturday, Mimi. Wanna sleep in." She groped for the blanket, but Mimi stood and bundled it in her arms.
"It's ten o'clock, silly. You're going to the Loft in two hours! Time to get up."
Grumbling, Joanne stood up from the patch of floor she had fallen asleep on and groaned as her muscles creaked in protest.
"That's it. Up and at 'em!" Mimi chirped cheerfully. "I made some breakfast."
Joanne froze as a memory came into her head.
"Pookie, I made you breakfast!" Maureen had batter smeared across her face, but her grin was huge as she proudly served Joanne burnt pancakes.
"Looks great," Joanne pecked her girlfriend on the cheek.
"Joanne?"
Joanne shook the memory away. Mimi was standing a few feet ahead, her arm extended to show a plate of French toast and fruit.
"Looks great," the lawyer croaked, sitting.
"Are you okay?" Mimi questioned, sliding into a chair next to her.
Joanne took a bite and chewed slowly, swallowing before replying.
"I keep remembering her," she confessed. "Everywhere I turn, there's another memory. I thought I was over it, but…"
Mimi smiled. "You two have quite a history. It'll take a while to truly let her go. I'm sure you miss her…but sometimes it's just fate to move on."
"You should be a love guru," Joanne said wryly. But she felt better.
After breakfast was over, Mimi announced that she was leaving.
"I'm off to kidnap Maureen!" she joked. "You take a shower, get dressed in something casual, and get your butt over to the Loft. Roger and Collins will be expecting you, but if I have my way, Mark won't be. Just remember to be yourself. Don't be embarrassed, and good luck!" She swept her bag onto her shoulder and departed.
Joanne gulped and put her dishes in the sink. Then she took a long, hot shower to ease her nerves. After getting out, she carefully dried her hair and went hunting for an outfit, eventually deciding on a cream-colored rib-knit sweater with jeans and brown leather clogs, and a brown jacket. The same outfit, she realized, she had worn during Maureen's protest that fateful Christmas Eve. This almost made her decide against it…but that was also the day she met Mark. The outfit went on.
After applying makeup and a last-minute scrutiny in the hall mirror, she found herself in her car, driving towards the Loft.
What I did for love, she thought dryly, recalling the song from A Chorus Line as she reviewed her unusually long preparation process of the morning. The last time she had worried so much about how she looked was the day-
Joanne clenched the steering wheel. She wouldn't let her thoughts stray that direction, not now. She was moving on, taking the next step.
Mark's apartment building came into view, and Joanne took a deep breath as she squeezed her car against the curb and climbed out, locking the doors. Taking long strides to calm herself, she reached for the door – only to remember that she would need to call up for the key.
She prayed that it would not be Mark who came (What would she say?), and shouted, "Guys! It's Joanne! I need the key!"
A brief pause; then Roger stuck his grinning head out the window.
"Why, Joanne, fancy seeing you here on this beautiful day!"
Joanne rolled her eyes. "Roger, don't give me that. Just toss me the keys."
"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I think you're going to have to tell me the password first."
"Roger, we don't have a password."
"Sure we do. All you have to do is yell, at the top of your lungs, 'I love Ma-" A hand reached out from the apartment and yanked the musician inside before he could finish his sentence.
Collins appeared where Roger had stood previously and tossed the keys down to Joanne.
"Come on up."
Joanne smiled gratefully as she unlocked the door and headed up the stairs, laughing affectionately at Roger's antics. She was comforted by how familiar he acted towards her.
She slid the Loft door open. They were waiting for her. Collins had a firm grip on Roger's arm, his bag slung over the opposite shoulder. Roger had a death grip on his guitar case, and he was still grinning cheekily.
"Mark and Joanne, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-ow!"
Collins retracted his hand from where he'd slapped Roger's arm and rolled his eyes.
"I don't know what's wrong with this one today," he indicated the younger man, "but he's off his rocker. No pun intended. I'm taking him out for a while so he won't bother you."
"Thanks," Joanne grinned.
"I'm not sure if Mark knows you're here or not. He's in his room, working on some film or other, so he's probably too immersed to notice much at the moment." The philosopher hesitated. "Look, I know this whole situation must be weird for you. But I want to let you know I haven't seen Mark that flushed since he and you-know-who were going out. And Mark rarely gets embarrassed." Joanne remembered how the filmmaker had, without a hint of shame, danced on the tables at the Life that Christmas and mentally agreed.
"He's right, you know," Roger nodded, suddenly serious. "Either way, I hope both of you find what you're looking for."
The pair left, leaving Joanne alone in the living room, contemplating how best to interrupt Mark from his work. As it turned out, she didn't have to. No sooner had the door shut behind Collins and Roger than Mark appeared in the room, mumbling something about 'crappy footage.' He didn't even seem to notice Joanne until she cleared her throat.
"Oh…hi," he managed, smiling timidly.
Joanne smiled weakly. "If this is a bad time…"
"No, no, sit down," Mark urged quickly. "Um…do you want a Coke?"
"Sure," Joanne shrugged, not because she had any particular fondness for the drink but because it would provide something to hold.
Mark crossed to the kitchenette and retrieved two cans from the fridge, passing one to the lawyer and popping the tab on his own. Joanne perched awkwardly on the couch and opened her can while Mark settled in the nearest armchair.
"So…" he began.
Joanne took a breath and began. "First of all, I just want to apologize for last night. I usually don't act like that, and I don't want you to think I'm fast or anything. I shouldn't have done it, and I really hope we can forget it happened and start over. I was so embarrassed that I just ran out, but don't worry, I'll pay you back for my drink. I can't say I'm sorry, because I'm not, exactly, because…well…never mind. Then Mimi came over later and told me what you said, and I thought that maybe there was a chance, but now that I'm here I see it was stupid of me to come, because you're my ex's ex, and how weird is that? And then there's-"
"Joanne!" Mark said loudly, and for the second time in as many days, his voice stopped her spew.
"Sorry," she murmured. "I was rambling…I do that when I get nervous."
"I can tell," Mark said, smiling wryly.
She looked away from his piercing eyes and took a long sip of Coke. "I feel really stupid," she confessed.
"Why?"
"I-I don't know…" she sighed and turned toward him. "If I tell you the truth, will you promise not to laugh or run away?"
"I promise," Mark said solemnly.
"Okay…" she took a deep breath, staring intently at her hands. "I've never liked guys, only girls. And that's never bothered me, and I never thought- well, I never expected anything to change. But last night, with you, something did. I can't explain it, because it doesn't make any sense to me, either. But I can tell you the truth, take it or leave it; I like you. I always have, as a friend, but now it's more than that. Last night…I felt things, things I've never felt toward a guy before. And it scares me. I find myself wondering what I should do, and that's never happened before – I've always told other people what they should do. But for whatever reason, something inside me has changed. I'll understand if this upsets you, and it doesn't change how awkward the situation is. I'm terrified of being rejected, but I know it's eminent, and you're the one person I can't – won't – chase after. Because you're different. I mean, you're my ex-girlfriend's ex-boyfriend! And I'm supposed to be a lesbian. Only now…I'm not. So I'm sorry about what happened. But I needed to get it out – that I really like you – so I could stop wondering how you would react. I'm sorry." She fell silent, waiting for the axe to drop.
"I'm not."
The whisper was so hushed Joanne wasn't sure she'd even heard it.
"Excuse me?" She looked up. Mark's unwavering gaze was fixed on her.
"I'm not sorry. About last night, I mean."
Joanne mouthed words, but nothing came out. "Really?" she finally asked, her voice small and unsure, waiting for the catch.
"Really." He stood and slipped onto the couch next to her. "Because I felt something, too. Have felt it longer than you have." He sighed, gazing into space. "Do you remember when we first met?"
"Of course!" she nodded vigorously. How could I forget?
"Well, then you were only Joanne Jefferson, girlfriend-stealer – with a mad tango ability, I might add." He chuckled. "But I kept watching you, subconsciously. It's what I do. I wanted to see what Maureen saw in you. And I found it pretty quickly." Now it was his turn to look at his hands. "Not only were you gorgeous, but you were…fun. Not in the loose, wild way that Maureen and Collins are. Nor in the undeniably youthful way Mimi is. In your own way. You managed to drive Maureen nuts, which gave you points in my mind as I could never do the same when I was with her, but you also held a balance. When I was with Maureen, I practically licked her shoes. I worshipped her. But you didn't bow at her feet. Didn't bow at all. You held your ground, part of the reason Maureen loves you so much, I think. You may not have noticed it, but everyone in the group has accepted you as one of us. We aren't used to association with people from your side of town, except for Benny, but you aren't like those other people. You actually like being with us – unless every observation I've ever made is wrong. But I digress." He shifted and licked his lips. "Anyway, I saw all this in you, and yet I still didn't like you as more than a friend, not then. We grew closer, but our relationship has always been rooted in Maureen. I suppose the change happened slowly, over time. I began to notice different things about you – your eyes, the way you moved, your laugh. I never allowed myself to elaborate on those feelings because I knew full well you were a lesbian, and you were Maureen's. I would never steal another person's lover. Those feelings have heightened with time. Another reason I guess I was so willing to meet you at the bar last night."
"So what you're saying is…" Joanne caught her breath.
He turned to her and took her hand. "I like you, too. This much." And he leaned forward and kissed her. She responded without thinking about it, letting herself give in until he pulled back to see her reaction.
"Don't stop," she pleaded.
He smiled, and this time she came forward to meet him. He fell backward onto the couch and she kept kissing him. Only after his glasses had fogged up did she back off with sudden reserve.
He pulled himself into a sitting position. "Joanne…"
"Too fast," she nodded, breathing heavily. She smiled. "After all, yesterday I was a lesbian."
He returned the grin. "Yeah."
"So…are we a thing?"
Mark smirked. "Would you like to be, or were you just kissing me in a sudden bout of passionate sexuality?"
She laughed boldly, finding, to her surprise, that she wasn't a bit embarrassed.
"I'd like to be," she said, "but Maureen…"
"What about her?" Mark asked, his face falling somewhat.
Quickly, Joanne pecked him on the cheek. "It isn't that. What will she think?"
"I think she'll be okay," Mark decided. "You know Maureen. Diva one minute, loving the next. She'll probably hate us for a few days, then decide we're the cutest couple she's ever seen."
Joanne had to agree.
"Would you like to go out for lunch?" Mark asked suddenly. "You know, I still owe you a meal!"
"That you do," Joanne concurred. "I would love to."
It felt right, she mused as he went to get his coat. Earlier, she'd been so confused about her feelings, her longings. Now that it had all come out better than she could have dreamed, she felt oddly at peace. She had a – a boyfriend. New. But new was good. It was all happening so quickly.
"You ready?" Mark asked, re-entering the room.
"Yeah!" She stood up, taking his hand. "I'm with you."
A/N: I sort of went nuts on Roger, huh? But I sorted him out in the end. Couldn't resist. Can you blame him for laughing at his best friend's plight? It seemed like a good-mood Roger thing to do. And this was not an angst fic.
Thanks for reading! You know what to do!
