A/N: Come on loves! Please review! Fawning is muchly appreciated, as well
as constructive criticism. But keep it constructive, no flaming.
December 24 10 PM Joanne's Apartment
Sniffing a carton of Orange Juice, Maureen wrinkled her nose. Swirling the beverage in the container, she raised the box to her lips and took several thirsty gulps.
"Maureen!" Joanne exclaimed, catching her girlfriend red handed. Her pet peeve, and Maureen's favorite activity, drinking from the container.
Maureen swiped her hand across her lips, closed the carton and shrugged her shoulders. Fixing the sleeve of the oversized t-shirt she wore, her bare feet padded across the kitchen floor. Wrapping her arms around Joanne's waist, she smiled and fluttered her lashes. "I know you hate it, Pookie, but I just can't help myself." She purred, rubbing her body against her lover's.
"Maureen! Not here... Dakota could walk in at any minute!" Joanne cried, laughing. Putting her hands on Maureen's shoulders, she disengaged herself from the petite girl's grasp.
Crossing to the cabinet she pulled a misshapen clay mug from the shelf. Another of Maureen's misguided ventures. Turning the tap on, she let it run for a moment before filling the mug. Sipping the water, she looked around the small apartment. "Where is your sister anyways?" She asked, brows furrowed.
Maureen shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the countertop. Spying a yellow post-it-not on the refrigerator, she strode over and pulled it off. Staring at the note for a minute, she shook her head and heaved a frustrated sigh. "Russian. Read it, Pookie."
"It's been years since I studied Russian, Mo." Sighing resignedly, she stuck her hand out to allow Maureen to attach the note to her hand. Reading the note she shrugged her shoulders. "Something to the effect of she's doing Mark and Roger. And we shouldn't wait up!" Joanne said, voice climbing incredulously as she spoke. Shaking her head, she squinted and laughed. "Oh, sorry. She's going TO Mark and Roger's." Joanne said, laughing at the horrified look on Maureen's face.
Recovering from the thought that her little sister was planning on having sex with her ex-boyfriend, not to mention with their HIV+ best friend, Maureen grinned. "Well, Honey, if she's there, then she isn't here!" She purred, springing upon Joanne and pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss.
Laughing softly as she returned Maureen's kiss, Joanne took her hand and led her back into the bedroom.
10:30 PM The Loft
Standing on her tiptoes, Dakota stared into the empty cabinet. Well, nearly empty. It contained a metal bowl, a handful of dishes, one frying pan, one sauce pan, and several hot plates. Sighing she pulled them one by one out. "Are you telling me that this is all you have?" She asked, glancing at where Roger and Mark sat on the tattered couch, a game of chess between them.
"What you see is what you get." Roger replied, studying the board before moving a piece. "Check." He muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Mark stared intently at the board. Sighing he nodded his head. "Yep. That means that you owe me 5 less... Making it..." His voice trailed off as he did the math in his head. "A Hundred and Twenty-Three Dollars and 16 cents."
"Where'd the 16 cents come from?" Roger asked, moving the chessboard off the couch. Standing up, he shook his head at the screech that the springs let out.
"Last week I took a nap, and I had 16 cents in my pocket. When I woke up it wasn't there. But I had to meet Maureen, so I left. And then when I came back it wasn't in the couch. Through deductive reasoning I decided you took it." Mark explained, standing and crossing to where Dakota was chopping an onion. "Need any help?" He asked, reaching his hand out to snatch a piece before popping it into his mouth.
"I need dishes. And now it makes sense why my sister broke up with you. You'll scare all the girls away if you keep eating raw onion like that." Sweeping the onion onto a plate, she set it aside and went into the refrigerator and pulled out a paper wrapped package. Waving it she grinned. "Even if you don't eat the stuff, Christmas Eve means one thing... Filet!" She announced, setting the package on the counter top. Digging through the drawers, she found a few packages of pepper from a fast food joint. Wripping them open she sprinkled it on top of the steaks.
Grabbing the electrical cord, Roger removed some of the unnecessary connections and brought the cable over to the counter. Silently he began plugging a few of the hot plates in. "Mark, does your mother ever give you anything else?" He asked, looking at the ingredients scattered on the counter. His stomach growled.
Turning the hot plate on, Dakota swirled olive oil into the bottom of the pan and dropped in garlic that she'd chopped. Waiting for the plate to heat she looked through the rest of the groceries. "Do you boys have tinfoil?" She asked, pulling out a few potatoes. Turning the water on she rinsed them underneath it, wrinkling her nose as the dirt trickled off.
"In my room." Mark said, heading towards his sleeping quarters to retrieve it. Disappearing into the room, he whistled softly, unaware of the looks that his friends were giving him.
Roger held his hands up. "Don't ask me. I don't even begin to understand how his mind works."
Placing the frying pan on the hot plate, Dakota placed the filets into the pan. A soft crackling sound was emitted as the meat hit the sultry pan. Pushing them gently with a fork, she moved them about to keep them from burning. Laughing as Roger's stomach growled again, she shook her head. "So, are you going to eat? Or just wither away slowly?"
Roger glared at Dakota. It was none of her business. And he said so, quite bluntly. "Why the hell do you care? You don't know what it's like. And you never will."
Cocking an eyebrow at Roger she shrugged. Handing him the fork, she shrugged her shoulders. "Watch them." She muttered as she wiped her hands on her jeans and headed for the door. Sliding it open she stepped outside and climbed the stairs to the roof. Softly she spoke to herself. "Oh I do. More than you know."
Coming out of his room with the tinfoil, Mark stopped in the middle of the room. Box in one hand, he looked from Roger, to the fork, to the door sliding closed. "Roger! What'd you do?" He asked, voice slightly whiny.
"Shut up Mark." Roger replied, dropping the fork on the countertop and turning towards his room. Slamming the door behind him as he entered, the faint click of the lock was audible as Roger once again locked everyone out of his world.
December 24 10 PM Joanne's Apartment
Sniffing a carton of Orange Juice, Maureen wrinkled her nose. Swirling the beverage in the container, she raised the box to her lips and took several thirsty gulps.
"Maureen!" Joanne exclaimed, catching her girlfriend red handed. Her pet peeve, and Maureen's favorite activity, drinking from the container.
Maureen swiped her hand across her lips, closed the carton and shrugged her shoulders. Fixing the sleeve of the oversized t-shirt she wore, her bare feet padded across the kitchen floor. Wrapping her arms around Joanne's waist, she smiled and fluttered her lashes. "I know you hate it, Pookie, but I just can't help myself." She purred, rubbing her body against her lover's.
"Maureen! Not here... Dakota could walk in at any minute!" Joanne cried, laughing. Putting her hands on Maureen's shoulders, she disengaged herself from the petite girl's grasp.
Crossing to the cabinet she pulled a misshapen clay mug from the shelf. Another of Maureen's misguided ventures. Turning the tap on, she let it run for a moment before filling the mug. Sipping the water, she looked around the small apartment. "Where is your sister anyways?" She asked, brows furrowed.
Maureen shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the countertop. Spying a yellow post-it-not on the refrigerator, she strode over and pulled it off. Staring at the note for a minute, she shook her head and heaved a frustrated sigh. "Russian. Read it, Pookie."
"It's been years since I studied Russian, Mo." Sighing resignedly, she stuck her hand out to allow Maureen to attach the note to her hand. Reading the note she shrugged her shoulders. "Something to the effect of she's doing Mark and Roger. And we shouldn't wait up!" Joanne said, voice climbing incredulously as she spoke. Shaking her head, she squinted and laughed. "Oh, sorry. She's going TO Mark and Roger's." Joanne said, laughing at the horrified look on Maureen's face.
Recovering from the thought that her little sister was planning on having sex with her ex-boyfriend, not to mention with their HIV+ best friend, Maureen grinned. "Well, Honey, if she's there, then she isn't here!" She purred, springing upon Joanne and pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss.
Laughing softly as she returned Maureen's kiss, Joanne took her hand and led her back into the bedroom.
10:30 PM The Loft
Standing on her tiptoes, Dakota stared into the empty cabinet. Well, nearly empty. It contained a metal bowl, a handful of dishes, one frying pan, one sauce pan, and several hot plates. Sighing she pulled them one by one out. "Are you telling me that this is all you have?" She asked, glancing at where Roger and Mark sat on the tattered couch, a game of chess between them.
"What you see is what you get." Roger replied, studying the board before moving a piece. "Check." He muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Mark stared intently at the board. Sighing he nodded his head. "Yep. That means that you owe me 5 less... Making it..." His voice trailed off as he did the math in his head. "A Hundred and Twenty-Three Dollars and 16 cents."
"Where'd the 16 cents come from?" Roger asked, moving the chessboard off the couch. Standing up, he shook his head at the screech that the springs let out.
"Last week I took a nap, and I had 16 cents in my pocket. When I woke up it wasn't there. But I had to meet Maureen, so I left. And then when I came back it wasn't in the couch. Through deductive reasoning I decided you took it." Mark explained, standing and crossing to where Dakota was chopping an onion. "Need any help?" He asked, reaching his hand out to snatch a piece before popping it into his mouth.
"I need dishes. And now it makes sense why my sister broke up with you. You'll scare all the girls away if you keep eating raw onion like that." Sweeping the onion onto a plate, she set it aside and went into the refrigerator and pulled out a paper wrapped package. Waving it she grinned. "Even if you don't eat the stuff, Christmas Eve means one thing... Filet!" She announced, setting the package on the counter top. Digging through the drawers, she found a few packages of pepper from a fast food joint. Wripping them open she sprinkled it on top of the steaks.
Grabbing the electrical cord, Roger removed some of the unnecessary connections and brought the cable over to the counter. Silently he began plugging a few of the hot plates in. "Mark, does your mother ever give you anything else?" He asked, looking at the ingredients scattered on the counter. His stomach growled.
Turning the hot plate on, Dakota swirled olive oil into the bottom of the pan and dropped in garlic that she'd chopped. Waiting for the plate to heat she looked through the rest of the groceries. "Do you boys have tinfoil?" She asked, pulling out a few potatoes. Turning the water on she rinsed them underneath it, wrinkling her nose as the dirt trickled off.
"In my room." Mark said, heading towards his sleeping quarters to retrieve it. Disappearing into the room, he whistled softly, unaware of the looks that his friends were giving him.
Roger held his hands up. "Don't ask me. I don't even begin to understand how his mind works."
Placing the frying pan on the hot plate, Dakota placed the filets into the pan. A soft crackling sound was emitted as the meat hit the sultry pan. Pushing them gently with a fork, she moved them about to keep them from burning. Laughing as Roger's stomach growled again, she shook her head. "So, are you going to eat? Or just wither away slowly?"
Roger glared at Dakota. It was none of her business. And he said so, quite bluntly. "Why the hell do you care? You don't know what it's like. And you never will."
Cocking an eyebrow at Roger she shrugged. Handing him the fork, she shrugged her shoulders. "Watch them." She muttered as she wiped her hands on her jeans and headed for the door. Sliding it open she stepped outside and climbed the stairs to the roof. Softly she spoke to herself. "Oh I do. More than you know."
Coming out of his room with the tinfoil, Mark stopped in the middle of the room. Box in one hand, he looked from Roger, to the fork, to the door sliding closed. "Roger! What'd you do?" He asked, voice slightly whiny.
"Shut up Mark." Roger replied, dropping the fork on the countertop and turning towards his room. Slamming the door behind him as he entered, the faint click of the lock was audible as Roger once again locked everyone out of his world.