The musician lifted his bag from the back seat of the cab after paying the driver, and quietly walked upstairs to the loft. His thirty days were over, but he hadn't called to tell Mark he would be coming home today.

"Mark?" Roger called out softly, but his only response was silence. He went over to the filmmaker's door and tapped lightly but the only thing he got in return was the quietness and stillness that hung in the loft, almost as if it were a tangible object.

It was stupid. He didn't know why he did what he did. Maybe it was a test of his strength, maybe it was because he knew he would never really do it. Or maybe it was because he just wasn't ready to stop and knew he couldn't go through another withdrawal.

But whatever the reason was, he walked quietly over to the refrigerator – almost as though he were afraid of being caught, despite his being alone in the apartment – and looked for something…anything…alcoholic. But, of course, there was nothing to be found. After all, what idiot would leave alcohol in the apartment of a recovering alcoholic?

Disappointed, Roger sighed and sunk down on the couch. He could always go out and buy something, go to a bar, but… No. No, he had promised Mark he would stop and he was determined to stick to his word. He owed at least that to his friend, after all he had put him through.

Laying back and stretching his body across the length of the sofa, Roger let his mind wander back to his thirty days in rehab, or "hell" as he liked to call it. It actually wasn't as bad as he had expected. He thought it would be like heroin withdrawal, where he wouldn't even be able to move for the first three or four days. And while it had been awful, it was nowhere near as bad as his first experience in a rehab center.

Suddenly the sound of a key turning in the lock caught Roger's attention and he sat up just as Mark walked into the apartment.

"Roger!"

The filmmaker dropped the bag of groceries he had been carrying on the floor and ran to greet his friend.

Roger wrapped his arms around the smaller man, reveling in the feeling of being so close to him.

"Why didn't you call? You didn't tell me you were coming home today!"

"I wanted to surprise you," Roger said, smiling slightly.

"So how was it?"

The musician made a face. "Do you even have to ask?"

"That bad?"

Roger shrugged as he sat back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the decrepit coffee table.

"It wasn't as bad as heroin, but yeah, it was awful."

Mark nodded, looking thoughtful.

"You're going to AA, right?"

"I suppose you're leaving me no choice in the matter."

"No, I'm not."

Roger sighed. "Then yeah. I guess I'm going."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Finally Mark cleared his throat and said, "I rented a movie."

The musician groaned. "Oh God, if it's another one of those artsy films…"

"No, I think you'll like this one."

Roger raised an eyebrow, trying to see into the Blockbuster bag Mark carried over to the VCR.

"What'd you get?"

"Hedwig."

"Oh."

The silence resumed as the two watched the movie, neither knowing what to say or do.

As "The Origin of Love" came on Roger noticed Mark inching a little closer to him, but he pretended not to notice.

Finally Mark was so close that he was pressed up against the musician's side. "Rog?" he breathed out, sending a warm breath of air over Roger's ear.

Roger shifted uncomfortably (though the position was far from uncomfortable) and took a deep breath to steady himself before he replied.

"Yeah?"

"Do you… Do you think we're each other's other half?"

And there were three sexes then,
One that looked like two men
Glued up back to back,
Called the children of the sun.
And similar in shape and girth
Were the children of the earth.
They looked like two girls
Rolled up in one.
And the children of the moon
Were like a fork shoved on a spoon.
They were part sun, part earth
Part daughter, part son.

"W-what?" Roger asked in disbelief. No, it wasn't possible. Mark didn't love him the way he loved Mark…

"I've been thinking. And, I don't know, this probably sounds crazy… But maybe you're my, you know, my other half." Mark blushed and laughed a little, realizing how corny he must sound.

Last time I saw you
We had just split in two.
You were looking at me.
I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar,
But I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face;
I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.

Roger smiled. Placed a warm hand on the filmmaker's cheek and ran his finger along the jaw line.

"I don't know. Maybe."

Roger smiled again, praying that Mark was feeling the same thing he was.

"Are you saying…" But he let his voice trail off, too scared of the reply to actually ask the question out lout.

But Mark just grinned and leaned in a little closer, immersing himself in Roger's touch. He didn't need to hear the words said aloud, he already knew what Roger was trying to say.

"Yeah. I think… I think I love you too."

That's the pain,
Cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love.
So we wrapped our arms around each other,
Trying to shove ourselves back together.
We were making love,
Making love.
It was a cold dark evening,
Such a long time ago,
When by the mighty hand of Jove,
It was the sad story
How we became
Lonely two-legged creatures,
It's the story of
The origin of love.
That's the origin of love.

Roger's heart lifted as he absorbed Mark's words. He cupped his hand underneath Mark's chin and brought Mark's face forward until their lips met.

There were still things to talk about, still things to work out. There were still problems, and Roger's alcoholism to take into consideration. But at that moment, they didn't care. They could deal with everything else later. Right now, being together was all that mattered.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Roger snickered and Mark looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing… It's just, most people spend their entire lives searching for their other half."

"So?"

Roger smiled again and leaned in to kiss Mark gently on the lips.

"We already found ours."

A/N:  It's so fluffy it makes me nauseous. I feel the need to kill off a character right now… But it's Christmas. And I figured we could all use a little fluff now and then, right?