A/N- writing this chapter, I was greatly inspired by a song from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar called Don't Know How to Love Him. I've never seen the play, but the song is an old favorite of mine, and I happened to listen to it again on the day I started working on this chapter. I couldn't stop thinking about how perfectly it describes Maureen's situation at this point of the story. When I was listening to it, it felt as if it was Maureen singing it. Kind of weird, but I hope you know what I mean. So not entirely a song-fic, but if you wanna get in the mood for the following chapter, look for the song.

Oh yeah, and you might wanna look up this cute one sung by Kristin Chenoweth, called Taylor the Latte Boy, that is, in case you don't know it yet. You'll see why :)

6- Just Some Guy

When they went to the hospital the next day, it turned out that she had sprained her ankle. It got her two weeks off from work, until she was better. It was actually a huge relief for her. For once, she didn't even worry about how she'd get by without these two weeks' salary. There was no way she could walk on her left leg, and she still had bruises all over, so staying at home and doing nothing sounded really tempting. By now, a week later, it started to get on her nerves. Her ankle was taking its time in healing, and since it was still kind of cold out, the boys didn't let her go out any further than the fire escape. They always kept her company when they were home, sitting in the living-room with her or doing stuff for her, but there was no one home now, and she was gazing absent-mindedly at the TV, thinking of nothing in particular.

She raised her head when she heard a key turning in the lock. The door opened and Roger stepped into the loft. "Hey Momo," he said smiling, using the nickname Collins stuck her some time back. "How are ya?"

"I'm bored," she whined. She couldn't take it. She had to do something or she'd simply go nuts.

"How's your ankle?"

"It hurts less. And I don't limp anymore. I guess that's good news."

"That's good. You want anything from the kitchen?" he asked, slipping out of his jacket. Collins sent them some money several days before, which meant that there was some food there for a while.

"No thanks. But I could use some company," she pouted. He was such a sucker for that pout. They all were.

Of course, it had the same affect now. Roger smiled. "Sure. I'll just get something to eat."

Soon afterwards he came over and sat on the couch next to her. He ate his sandwich and told her how his day was. Then when he finished, he looked up at her, suddenly serious. "Can I talk to you about something?"

His expression got her a bit worried. He looked somewhat uncertain. Women problems again? So far everything worked fine between him and April. Or so it seemed. She nodded. "Sure. Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just…" his voice trailed off, as if he wasn't sure how to continue. "Gah, it's gonna sound like such a girls' talk."

She laughed softly. "Spill it, Roger. What's going on?"

"It's about Mark," he said quietly, his eyes meeting hers.

"What about him?" she asked, making her voice sound as neutral as possible. She was still a bit confused about him, about how close the two of them became so quickly. He was really sweet to her in the passing week. He was always there for her. The only reason he was out right now was because he was out of film reels and he went to get some more.

"I know it's none of my business, but… is there something going on between the two of you?"

She could get really nasty and yell at him that just as he stated, it was none of his business, but she knew that Roger wasn't the guy to ask such a thing for the sake of gossip. No, he probably had some other motive. She sighed. Why wouldn't they all just give it a rest? "Why would you ask that?"

"I think you know why."

She looked away, but quickly turned to look at Roger again, knowing she wouldn't be able to avoid this confrontation with her feelings for much longer. And maybe talking about it would help her figure things out.

But Roger continued before she had a chance to say anything. "Look, Mark is my best friend, for years. I can't even remember for how long. And I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Why do you think he's gonna get hurt?"

He hesitated, and then said, "If I got you right, and I think I did, then you're very much like me. And people like Mark are not the kind of people we usually hook up with."

Okay, that didn't make much sense. He was contradicting himself. "Did I miss anything, or did you really say 30 seconds ago he was your best friend?"

"I did. I'm telling you this because he's my best friend."

"So, what, do you think I'm gonna hurt him?"

"Not intentionally, no. I know you care for him. But I also know he cares for you too. He cares for you a lot; more than you realize. More than he realizes, actually."

"If you two managed to stay best friends for so many years in spite of the fact he's not your usual type to 'hook up with' as you said, what makes you think it's gonna be different between him and me? And just to clear things out, there is no him and me." Yet, she added silently.

"It's different," he said. He looked back, as if to make sure they were alone. Then he continued, his voice a bit lower than before. "Maureen, Mark was never… romantically involved with anyone. He had some girls over the years, but none of them was serious. He's naïve and inexperienced and that doesn't work in his favor. I can only assume it's not your case."

"Explain," she ordered, looking at him through narrow eyes. If he was implying that she was sleeping around, she'd kick his ass.

Roger laughed, as if he knew what was on her mind. "Come on. You know you're gorgeous. I bet they all fall at your feet." Then he got serious again. "All I'm saying is, that if you intend to do the same to Mark's heart, just… drop it. He's not that kind of guy."

"I know he's not," she said softly. "I promise I won't hurt him. Okay? Does that make you feel better?"

"Yeah. It does." A devilish smile curled on his lips as he leaned forward. "So, what is going on between the two of you?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"This is ridiculous! The stupidest thing I've ever heard!" laughed Mark.

She frowned. "It's not ridiculous, it's art! Tell him, Roger!"

"It's art, Mark," Roger repeated obediently, trying to keep a straight face, but soon he cracked up, joining Mark's laughter. "I swear she's got way too many painkillers in her system."

There were tears in Mark's eyes, and he tried to wipe them away, as if that would help to stop his laughter. "No doubt."

"You two just don't get it!" she insisted. She had just finished writing the greatest song, but when she showed it to them, they wouldn't stop laughing at her. "Plus, it's based on a true story, mind you."

"Oh, that definitely changes things," said Roger, rolling his eyes. "Know what, if there's really a guy like that at Starbucks, I can't wait to go over there and read it for him."

"So we're assuming that you're… what was the girl's name? Carrie?"

"Carol, and no, I wrote it about a friend. How do you think I got to know him on the first place?"

"I bet you the 'friend' she's talking about is Collins," said Roger, nudging Mark's arm. "I'll be damned, it even sounds a bit like Carol," he added, and the two of them cracked up again, laughing even louder than before. "Maureen, you're an amazing song-writer, you really are," said Roger when they finally calmed down. "But this… this…" his voice trailed off, as if he wasn't sure how to define her new song. He gave up and fell into another series of uncontrollable giggles.

"It's a love song, it's catchy, it's gonna be a hit!"

Mark, who was sitting on the couch beside her, reached over and snatched her notebook from her before she managed to stop him. "Taylor the Latte Boy, brings me Java, brings me joy, Taylor the Latte Boy, I love him, I love him, I love him."

"Catchy, indeed," Roger smirked. "Maureen, this is crap!"

"It's not!"

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have time to sit here and argue with you about the quality of this… song? Well, I guess you can call it that," he said, getting up. "I'm late for our sound check. See you guys tomorrow."

"You're gonna stay at April's tonight?"

"Not sure yet. See ya!"

They watched Roger as he left the loft, and then Mark turned to look at her, a small grin still stuck to his face. After her conversation with Roger couple of days ago, she tried to avoid being alone with Mark. She needed to think it through. She still had no answers, so she just thought she'd let things happen, and come what may.

"It is a crappy song, you know," he said.

"Whatever, you two have a really bad taste," she pouted.

He laughed, but it soon died out as he didn't have Roger to encourage him. "How's your ankle?"

"And you really need to come up with a more original question," she said kind of bluntly, suddenly feeling nervous. Being alone with him, which was so natural just days before, started to feel uncomfortable. She wasn't even sure how to act around him anymore. Every little thing he said or did made her blush. She was so tipsy and confused, so unlike her usual, confident self. No one managed to do that to her, ever. Why was he different?

Mark looked surprised and slightly offended. "Sorry, I was just-"

The phone rang suddenly, saving them from delving deeper into the issue of her changing moods. The machine picked up. "Speeeaaak!"

"Mark? Are you there? Are you screening your calls again? It's me, mom." She saw him screwing his face in discontent. "Well, I'm just calling so see how you are, and to tell you that Cindy had just got back with the ultrasound results, and we're expecting a baby boy! Isn't it exciting? Be a good brother and give her a call, honey. I'll talk to you soon. Bye!"

They sat in silence for several minutes. "Congratulations," she said quietly.

"Thanks."

More silence. "Do you ever call her back?"

He looked up at her. His eyes looked huge, and remarkably blue. "I just wish she'd give me some space," he said, kind of desperately. "I love my mom, I really do, but she's just… everywhere. Even after I managed to get out of there."

"Must be nice to get so much attention from your parents though." God knew that she never had.

"It can get on your nerves pretty easily, trust me."

"You'd miss it if you lived my family," she said. "If my brother was about to have a baby, you can be sure I wouldn't have known about its existence until the kid is at least three."

Mark smiled. "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it can," she said, shaking her head sadly. She knew she wasn't supposed to care. That was the way things were and there wasn't anything she could do to change it. No matter how much she wished sometimes that everything would be different. "I think you're lucky than most others, you know. Your parents may not like what you chose to do here, and they can be a real pain in the ass most of the time, but at least you can be sure they'd be there for you if you get in trouble. That's more than you can say about my parents."

"Well… I guess we always want what we can't have," he said slowly, and sort of sadly. Somehow she got the feeling he wasn't talking just about his family.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said quietly. It really wasn't his fault that she was messed up emotionally. Well, it was his fault, sort of, but he wasn't supposed to know that.

"That's okay. I know it's frustrating to stay locked up here all day, but it's not for long; just until you're better."

She thought it was the right time to thank him. "You've done so much for me ever since it started. I thought you should know how much I appreciate it."

"It's nothing," he said meekly. He didn't even blush this time, she noticed. "Actually I feel kind of guilty."

"Why?"

"Because if it wasn't for my stupid wish to see you tap-dance, this would never have happened."

She laughed. "Mark, it's not your fault. I could trip over something at work. You just happened to be there."

"Making you tap-dance on a wet pavement."

"Listen to me. This is not your fault. I'm not blaming you. If anything, I should be grateful for these two weeks off." He smiled. She hesitated, but then inched closer. He didn't seem to notice. "If I'll ask you something, will you answer me?"

"Was there ever a time I didn't answer your questions?"

"That's a 'yes' then."

"Yeah… I guess. It depends how weird it is this time."

"It's not weird at all. I just wanna know something."

"You always say that. And then they're always weird."

"Not this one."

"Okay. Let's hear it then."

"Okay." But the words didn't come to her. She had to ask it, even though she thought she knew the answer. "You didn't have to do all that for me; keeping me company at work, staying with me here when I got this time off. You could just leave me here to rot for the past two weeks, but you didn't. You were always here." She looked up at him. By what she saw in his eyes, she knew he was beginning to regret letting her ask her question. "Why?"

It took him a while, and then he said, "What do you mean 'why'? You're my friend, you're my roommate, of course I-"

She reached over and took his hand, slowly lacing her fingers with his. His voice trailed off and he followed her movements, transfixed. "Why, Mark?" she whispered, looking up at him again.

"I… don't know what you mean," he said weakly.

"I mean that I don't buy this 'you're my friend-slash-roommate' crap. I want you to tell me the truth." He said nothing. He sat there and stared at his jeans as if they were the most interesting item on the planet. She was still holding his hand, and now she gave it a little squeeze, as if to shake him off his reverie. "You said you'd answer," she reminded him, looking at him persistently.

"I… I don't feel comfortable with this."

"Me neither," she slowly nodded. "This is why I have to know."

"D-don't you know already?" he asked, not really looking at her.

"Even if I do, I need to hear you say it."

"Why?"

"Because if you want us to make some sort of a progress, you must tell me how you feel." She moved to sit even closer, and this time he noticed and tried to back away, but he was already leaning against the armrest of the couch. She looked at him seriously. "If you want anything to happen between us, we must clear this thing out."

For a moment, she was sure he'd try to get away with it again. He looked away, and then back at her. Straight at her. "I did all that for you… because I like you," he said quietly, plain and simple, without even stuttering.

Of course, she expected that answer, but somehow, listening to him admitting this made her heart melt. "Good," she smiled. "Because I like you too."

It seemed to catch him off-guard. He stared at her. "You… you do?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

The way he asked it was absolutely heart-breaking. It was as if he wasn't expecting anyone to like him. Well, if anything was about to happen between the two of them, the first thing she'd have to do would be to raise the boy's self-confidence, and the sooner the better. "What do you mean, 'why'? There are no rules, you know," she laughed softly. "I just do."

"No, but I mean… I'm nothing special… I'm just… some guy. And you could have any guy you wanted."

She shook her head. "I don't want any guy," she said quietly. "Have you ever had a girlfriend, Mark?" she asked, absent-mindedly rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand.

"Does first grade count?" he asked kind of nervously.

"Not really, no," she laughed softly. She couldn't sit any closer to him than she already did. She looked into his eyes. She never really noticed his eyes because of his glasses, she figured. And now he was sitting so close, she found herself drowning in them. It felt so strange. "What are you doing to me…" she murmured, half to him, half to himself.

"I'm not doing anything," he said, his voice as low as hers. He was still staring at her, as if trying to guess her next move. Well, there was only one thing she wanted to do now. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. She pulled away couple of seconds afterwards, her gaze locking with his again. He looked hesitant and a bit scared even, but the next moment when she did it again, he met her halfway through, kissing her back.

She didn't know what to expect. He was, after all, inexperienced. So she set up a slow, sensual pace in case he'd chicken out, but there seemed to be no need in doing that. This was when she came to believe in the oh-so-cliché phrase, expect the unexpected. Mark was actually a good kisser. He was still somewhat hesitant at first, but he lost it somewhere along the way, as their kisses became more fervent.

"You kiss by the book," she said breathlessly as they pulled away.

"You sound surprised," Mark replied, a cute yet satisfied grin curling on his lips.

"Very," she whispered, touching his chin, bringing him closer for another kiss. The next time they pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. She was now laying on top of him, her arms against his chest.

"I can't believe this," he whispered, smiling like a little kid who had just gotten what he wanted for his birthday. His hands were on her waist, slowly caressing her sides under her T shirt, as if he didn't dare going any further. She slid her hands down until they were just above his, and brought them up under her shirt to where the clasp of her bra was. "Maureen, I don't- " he started, once he seemed to realize what she was trying to do.

"Shh…" she whispered, slowly letting go of his hands, letting them drift to her sides again. She'd take it slow for him, she told herself. She didn't care. She just wanted to be with him. This never happen to her before. She never dreamt it'd happen with someone like Mark. She could always take care of herself. She always managed on her own, but after she sprained her ankle, she realized she would not always be able to do that. There were times she needed to be taken care of. Mark would take care of her; she just knew he would.

She leaned down to kiss him again, and as it gained more passion she sat up, gently pulling him into a sitting position with her. Then she slowly broke the kiss, and with no further words took his hand in hers, got up, and led him down the dark hall to his bedroom.