Hey everyone. Kris here.

I didnt think I would ever update this, or anything again, given my current situation, but writing fics helps. A lot. and I wanna get on track to finishing another one, especially this one, since I love the idea and plot so very much.

This past week, I was in the hospital every day for my dad. He went in for surgery, and had so many complications, and I'm sorry to say he passed away this past weekend. I'm staying home from school at the moment to recover, but writing in a way is my medicine, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It's fluffy, and it's short, but it's what I needed.

It was the middle of the night. Though exhausted, Roger couldn't bring himself to sleep after such a crazy ordeal. Combine it with the fact that Mark was now his boyfriend? He wouldn't close his eyes for weeks.

The small man in question was currently curled up against his chest, sleeping peacefully, one hand still curled into the fabric of his t-shirt tightly, and holding on. He hadn't let him go since they had gotten home, and Maureen was pleased when Mark excitedly told them both new developments. Joanne had congratulated him, and a small smile had come across her face.

Still, he lay awake, gazing up at the ceiling above his head, feeling sick to his stomach. He figured it could be the anxiety about his new relationship, or perhaps the rush of the evening hadn't worn off yet (He was still shaking…). Mark stirred somewhat, jolting him from his thoughts. He closed his eyes quickly, ready to pretend. The last thing he wanted to do was put his lover through anymore close-calls, or stressful experiences.

"Yeah, right…." Mark whispered sleepily. "You've been shaking, and breathing heavily for the past hour and a half… talk to me."

Roger shook his head. "I'm fine…"

"Bullshit." Mark stated simply, and sat up, moving back a little, and sitting at Roger's feet. The rocker then joined him, sitting up as well, wrapping his arms around his legs, and curling up slightly.

"Baby… what's gotten you so upset?" Mark asked again, more gently this time. Roger shrugged, looking down, his eyes heavy. Mark moved closer, taking a hold of his hand, and giving it a squeeze. He leaned in, kissing him.

Roger kissed back, but it was so halfhearted, Mark didn't even feel it. The filmmaker narrowed his eyes in worry. He reached out, feeling Roger's forehead.

"You're warm…" Mark murmured. "Do you feel sick?"

Roger nodded.

"Yeah… but it's not a physical sickness… I just… feel really uneasy, and I don't get why…"

Mark watched him for a while. He remembered how badly Roger used to get anxiety before he died, and they weren't together. Dying, and coming back wouldn't give him a TOTAL fresh start. He smiled softly.

"You're a little anxious, I think… well, judging by the shaking, I'd say a lot anxious…" he ran a hand through Roger's hair. "You went through a lot, in a small amount of time, and you're probably on overload right now, huh?"

Roger looked up, his eyes full of gratefulness.

"You get it…. Someone gets it…"

Mark moved closer to him, placing a hand over his heart.

"I try…. And that's all I can do…. But I remember you've had problems with it in the past, and just because you got a second chance, doesn't mean all of your past issues will go away…. How about I try and calm you down? Like I used to?"

Roger snorted a little.

"It's been awhile since withdrawal, Mark…"

Mark felt Roger's heart racing under his palm. He sighed.

"That doesn't mean I forgot…. Try me." Roger hesitated for a moment before finally nodding in agreement.

"Alright… give it your best shot, I guess…"

Mark smiled. He gently tugged Roger up from the bed. He walked towards the small stairs that lead down to the rest of the apartment.

"I'll draw us a hot bath… sound nice?" Roger blushed with a smile.

"Y-yeah…. I like that idea." Mark returned the smile.

"Get out of those clothes, and come to the bathroom in a minute." He disappeared down the stairs, and Roger began taking off his clothes. He soon wrapped a towel around his waist, and peeked downstairs. He slowly made his way to the bathroom, and opened the door.

Mark stood beside the bathtub, in a towel of his own. The water was still running, and after a few minutes, he shut it off, and smiled.

"Go on, Roggy." He murmured. "I'll go in right after you."

Roger smiled, and took off his towel before walking over, and sliding into the hot water. He groaned and tipped his head back as his muscles began to loosen. Mark walked over, sliding in behind him, and wrapping his arms around him from behind.

"I know you like hot baths… I never forgot that." Roger smiled, and leaned back against him, purring softly. Mark suddenly reached over, grabbing the shampoo from the wall. He put some into his hands, and began to lather it into Roger's hair, working through all the unruly curls gently. Roger's eyes fell closed, and he grinned happily. Having his hair touched was his favorite.

"I love you… so much…." Roger whispered, and Mark leaned in, kissing his cheek.

"I love you too. Now just relax, okay? Breathe, let me take care of you." Roger couldn't help but comply.

After a thirty minute massage from Mark that worked out any tensions whatsoever in his shoulders and back, they got out of the tub, and got dressed. Mark took his hand, and led him back to bed. They lay down together, and Mark giggled, quickly crawling over to him, and beginning to attack his face with little kisses.

Roger started laughing and fussing, squirming a bit, but Mark continued his little game, beginning to work on the songwriter's neck.

They fell asleep eventually, tangled up in one another, Roger's neck covered in hickeys, and any bad thoughts that were once filling the taller man's head had been put to rest.

He was so grateful for his second chance. Things were finally beginning to look up, and as he sat awake, his eyes heavy and drowsy, with a sleepy, but excited Mark in his lap, pointing at the sunrise, he knew that this was exactly where he needed to be.

Later that day, Mark and Roger were cooking dinner in the kitchen. Joanne was late at work, and Maureen had gone to the store for the apartment, and would soon be returning.

Mark grinned as he mixed some soup on the stove. Roger reached over to taste some, and Mark smirked, and whacked his hand with the wooden spoon. Roger yelped, and growled at him with a playful grin.

Mark began laughing hysterically as Roger chased him around, and soon screeched as Roger threw him over his shoulder.

"Dick! Put me down!" he yelled, beating Roger's back with his fists. Roger laughed loudly.

"Sorry! You're my prisoner now!"

The door opening cut off their little game. Joanne stood there, looking frazzled, and stressed. Roger quirked a brow, his lover still on his shoulder. Mark turned, peeking back at her as well.

"Everything alright?" Roger questioned, slowly letting Mark down, and wrapping an arm around him. Mark was now concerned as well, watching her closely.

"You guys won't even be able to believe this…murders… all over the city…" she gasped, throwing down her coat, and briefcase. "The entire court is swamped… we think it's a gang, but there have been cases everywhere… all day… we have no idea what's going on, but there's no way one person is behind this…"

"Yes there is…" Roger whispered, stepping away from Mark, and looking to peek out the window to the streets below.

"Who?" Joanne asked, looking helpless.

"It could be Isaac…" Mark whined, his eyes wide.

"I think you're right…" Roger replied, turning back to face them. "He's on his way… and he wants us to know that…." He paused, looking grave. "He's coming for us…. and he's fucking pissed…."

Everyone fell into silence, and Joanne struggled to even process what she had just been told.