A/N: Did you know... If you go to LJ (gildedmuse) and comment, I can talk back to you?
Okay, so I really just like talking to other Rent fans and I only have like... three friends who are fans. Some needs to giggle with me over pictures of Anthony Rapp and share cute Rent icons.

Touch and Tell Lullaby
Chapter VII: Smile In Your Sleep

Roger holds onto Mark while he sleeps. It's way of making sure the other boy doesn't leave.

Recently, it seems like the only time Mark stops by the apartment is to sleep. He's out working on this film, or having lunch with Joanne, or helping Maureen get in character for this play. He's doing a million things, none of which involve his best friend. Roger is starting to get back in the swing of things, going to band practice every Wednesday and spending some time with old friends, but nothing like what Mark is doing. He spends too much time out and about, away from the loft. Roger is the one in need, not Tina or Maureen or Joanne, and every time one of the girls calls Mark away, Roger wants to scream.

When he tells Mark that he does too much, Mark just laughs and says, "Try telling that to Joanne, would you?" Then, of course, he doesn't get why Roger storms off.

Roger figures that if he can't stop Mark from having a life, he can make sure he's still there when Mark is asleep. These nights it's not two boys curled up in bed together to fight away nightmares and insomnia. These nights it's about possession. Roger keeps Mark pressed against him, arms wrapped in a vice around the smaller boy's waist, tight enough that every move wakes Roger up. It's not about helping each other. It's about making sure that Mark is there every morning.

Mark struggles at first; unable to get comfortable when Roger has him practically pinned to his side. After a while, he just gives up and relaxes against Roger. Mark seems to get how important it is to let Roger hold onto him. He let's Roger cling to him, and keeps his own arms around Roger's shoulders, not nearly as possessive but still proof that he has no intention of sneaking away.

Roger tells himself that it's nothing. It's all about safety, and there is nothing unusual about they way they spend all night tangled up in each other. It feels good to have Mark pressed against him, only because it means he's still there.

Roger refuses to call it cuddling, but that's what it feels like.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It gets easier to touch Mark when they're awake.

After April, Roger hated physical contact. There was a time when he didn't mind being at the center of a large crowd or letting girls brush up against him in the subway. After April - after he read that note and saw all that blood and knew - Roger hated touching. Not just with girls, but any sort of touching at all. It all reminded him of what he couldn't do anymore. No kissing. No sex. No love. All of that died with April.

Mimi had been a special case. With Mimi, Roger had wanted all of that stuff. He wanted to touch her and kiss her and love her, even if he still wouldn't allow anyone else to get close to him. He made an exception for Mimi. Not that touching her had kept her any closer to him in the end.

Roger swore off touching, but waking up every day with the same warm body in his arms, Roger starts to get use to the feel of Mark's skin. He finds it easy to slip back into habits he thought he'd lost. Tossing an arm around Mark's should, playful punching, leaning against each other on the couch. It's not intimate, just casual and friendly, but it's more than Roger's been able to do in a long time.

The first time it happens, Roger comes out of the shower and says "Morning," before ruffling Mark's hair. It's nothing he wouldn't have done a few years ago. It's just a simple, off the cuff sort of touch.

Mark fumbles with his camera, nearly dropping it before he can recover. "Roger, are you feeling all right?"

Roger dries his hair, tossing the towel into a corner. "Fine," he answer, sounding a bit annoyed. He hadn't done anything, and here Mark is already starting the motherly concern questions.

Mark still looks suspicious. "Okay, then." He picks up his camera and goes back to whatever he had been doing, and Roger leaves to get dressed. All day, Mark keeps a close eye on Roger.

It takes about a week for Mark to get use to their old habits. He stops jumping when Roger grabs the back of his neck and fidgeting every time Roger sits to close. After a while, Mark can pounce on Roger without being yelled at, and Roger can hold Mark whenever he wants.

It's nothing unusual, Roger tells himself. Just friendly touching. Just boys being boys.

There is still that fear of Mark leaving, but by now Mark seems comfortable in Roger's nightly death grip. Part of it is that he's figured out a way to get enough breathing room. With the care free touching, Mark isn't shy about running his hands down Roger's back, tickling the back of the other boy's neck and tracing down his spine. Roger can only take so much before he starts to fidget, and then Mark can nuzzle against his chest and go to sleep without worrying about suffocation.

Roger doesn't want to think about why he has to back away every time Mark touches him like that.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"That's the phone."

Roger wakes up to the sound of ringing from the next room, and Mark getting out of bed. Before the other boy can pull the covers all the way off, Roger has him in a vice. "We screen," Roger yawns, burying his face in Mark's hair. He doesn't know what time it is, but he can't get his eyes to open.

"It's Joanne." Mark sounds almost as tired as Roger, yet he pushes against Roger's chest, trying to twist out of the musician's arms. "Come on, I have to get the phone." Way too anxious to get that phone and get out of the loft, Roger thinks. Well, Joanne can wait until Roger is done with him.

"Stop that," Roger says. Mark is still keeps squirming, just enough to show that he wants to get out of bed without actually freeing himself from Roger's arms.

"Come on, Roger. Stop playing around." The phone is still ringing, and Mark still seems adamant to get it before Joanne hangs up. Still clinging to sleep and not able to fight any more, Roger sighs and drops his arms.

In the other room the answering machine says, "Speak!"

Mark jumps out of bed, running across the floor so quickly he doesn't even close the door on his way out.

"Hey, guys, it's Jo-"

"Joanne? It's Mark!"

Roger rolls over in bed, gravitating towards the warm covers Mark left behind. He can feel a morning erection against his stomach. Without even thinking, he's hand is dipping under the waistband of his boxers. It's been forever since he's hand the bed to himself in the morning. He is still in his twenties. It can't be healthy to go that long without any form of release.

"No, I was just in bed... Yeah... Well, it's not."

Even still hazed from sleep Roger can reach a rhythm pretty quickly. He feels hot and heavy and so ready in his own hand. There are no images in his head, just this feeling passing through his body.

In the other room, Mark sighs. "I'd rather not talk about it."

That sigh goes right through Roger. His body aches, remembering what it is like to have Mark struggling against him, the feel of Mark's fingers stroking his skin. He can imagine Mark's fingers dipping lower, the struggling more purposeful. In a few seconds he's thrusting into his hand, picturing all the things his best friend could be doing if he had just let the damn phone ring.

"She did... Well, I told you she could be like that. No, I didn't mean... I know, I was just saying. Right. You're right about that."

Roger's other hand slides down his thighs, brushing against the over sensitive skin, trying to mimic Mark's fingers. Just short of where Roger wanted them to be, teasing him.

"What? Oh, Tina."

Roger went ridged at the name, and this is all the time it takes for reality to set in. He jerks his hand out from under the covers so fats he nearly falls of the bed.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Not again.

"We sort of broke up."

Fuck. Roger digs his fingernails into his scalp, begging his erection to go away. Fuck, not again. He couldn't start on this again. Getting a hard-on when your friend touches you at night, Roger could explain that. Most of the guys he knows can get hard for anything, and with it being late at night and Marks gentle touches there is nothing weird about it. Jerking off to your best friend while he's in the other room chatting on the phone, Roger is pretty sure that is beyond explanation.

"You have to stop this, Roger," he tells himself. There has to be something wrong with him. He can't actually want to do this sort of stuff to Mark.

In the main room, Mark is still talking with Joanne. "It's not like that," he says again. "We just... It just didn't work it. It's all right, Joanne. I'm all right."

Roger rifles through the piles of clothes strewn around the floor until he finds the baggiest pair of pants he owns. They might have been Benny's at one point, and probably haven't been washed since the other man left. Roger doesn't care. He pulls them on and starts looking for a shirt that still fits. He needs to get out more. Maybe being cooped up in this loft is doing things to Roger.

"You don't want to fuck him," Roger mutters, saying it out loud so that he can really hear the words. There were a lot of people Roger wants to sleep with, and none of them are Mark. For starters, Roger isn't like that. Even if he was, Mark meant too much to him. You don't sleep with people you care for that much.

To the phone, Mark says, "I know. I'll be careful. I've lived with him for years, Joanne. I can handle it. Talk... No, I'm fine... No, he's not... Yes, I'm... Talk to you later, Joanne. Tell Maureen good luck for me."

Roger picks up his guitar and any random sheets of music he can find in the room. Mark comes in seconds later, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees Roger standing there, dressed and ready to leave. "You're out of bed?" There's a mix of surprise and disappointment in Mark's voice.

The sight of Mark standing in his boxers, looking mused and still half asleep is certainly enough to make Roger want to crawl back under the covers with him.

He looks away as quickly as possible, busy himself with packing up his amp. Anything to keep his eyes of his best friend. "I'm going to go practice with the band."

"I thought you guys practiced on Wednesday." Mark sounds more worried than confused.

"Tony can't meet that night," Roger lies. He doesn't know what he'll do on Wednesday, but anything is better than sticking around the loft right now. Roger needs to get out, clear his head, screw a girl.

"Oh," Mark looks over his shoulder into the living room, and then back to Roger. "Did you hear me on the phone?"

"About Tina?" Mark is still standing the doorway and Roger really doesn't want to brush by him right then. "It's not because of me, is it?"

Roger tells himself he doesn't want it to be because of him. Still, when Mark shakes his head he can't help but be disappointed. Damn it. "We just... We didn't have much in common."

"Didn't like her anyway." It has nothing to do with Mark, Roger tells himself. He just doesn't like Tina, and she isn't good enough for Mark. "Anyway, I have to go. Be back late. Don't bother waiting up."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"What's up with you?"

Roger swallows the last bit of his beer before he answers. He shakes the cup into his mouth, buying himself as much time as possible. "What do you mean?" It would help if he were at a club. He might have been able to pretend he couldn't hear Mathias over the loud, pulsing music if they were at Dive or The Cat Scratch. Tonight has been hard enough without having to answer questions about his mood.

It's three o'clock in the morning. The band is hanging around a crappy bar off Ninth Street, and there is no way for Roger to fake deafness. The loudest thing in the room is Jarred and Tony flirting with a group of girls over the pool table.

A blonde haired girl keeps looking at Roger. Every time she turns around Roger takes another drink. Mathias looks between the girl and Roger. "You haven't had anyone out back since April." The blonde with the bright blue eyes smiles at Roger. He orders another beer.

"It's been three years," Roger says. The girl twists her hair around one finger, still smiling. One of her friends has to nudge her to get her attention back to the game. "Besides, she didn't seem to mind."

Mathias puts a hand up to stop Roger from taking another sip. "You need to breath between beers."

Mathias is the most responsible of the band members. He has a fiancé and a two year old. He doesn't have a single-track line on his arm. The rest of the band trusted Mathias to get them home when they were trashed after a gig, and to let them crash at his place if they can't make it that far.

"Is this about the girl you were seeing?" Mathias asks, ordering Roger a coffee. Roger isn't nearly that drunk. He wants to get to the point where he can't see straight, where his mind just shuts down. He's not even half way there. "The one with the eyes?"

Mimi. Roger doesn't want to think about her. If she hadn't left he wouldn't have to be alone with Mark. If she hadn't left, he wouldn't be fucking nameless blonde girls up against alleyways with his eyes open in case his mind starts to wander.

"Whoever it is, you can't just sit around and pout over her," Mathias says. He takes the beer away from Roger and takes a drink. "Are you afraid to ask her out? Listen, back when I first saw Linds, I didn't think someone that fucking beautiful would even look at a piece of shit like me. You remember me back then, Rog? I was an asshole. But, you know, we have Ash now. If she's really cool, she love you anyway, Roger."

The blonde is still smiling at Roger. He sighs, burring his fingers in his hair and leaning forward over the bar. He doesn't close his eyes. Every time he tries all he can think about it Mark.

"It's not that easy, Matt." Roger can't explain. He can't even explain it to himself. He knows he loves Mark, but there is no way in hell he wants Mark. They're like family. Mark thinks of Roger like a brother, and now Roger's got this fucked up idea in his head that he can't seem to get ride of.

Mathias shrugs and drinks more of Roger's beer. "You need to get over it, Roger. Shit happens to people every day. The only thing that makes life worth it is taking chances." He twists the ring Lindsey had given him around his finger. Roger looks over at his friend, at the look of utter contentment on his face when he watched his reflection in the silver band. It's crazy to think Roger will ever have that. He's already had his share of risks for this life. "Maybe she loves you, you know, and you just don't know."

"Fuck off," Roger mutters. He can't stand listening to any more of Mathias's stupid thoughts about love and life. What the fuck does he know about Roger, anyway? Roger doesn't even know anything about himself at this point. "I'm leaving." He scowls at the blonde when she puts down the cue and starts walking over to the bar.

Mathias isn't put off by Roger's growling. He slaps the guitarist on the back. "Cool. Just remember, dude. Even an angst filled musician such as yourself deserves some happiness."

Roger nods, but he doesn't really believe it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Roger gets back to the apartment at a quarter to four, and the first thing he hears when he walks through the door is the sound of someone being beaten to death.

Without thinking, Roger sets down his things and hurries into the bedroom.

Mark is in bed, and the covers are on the floor. Half drunk and not thinking about his earlier resolution to avoid Mark, Roger sits down next to him, pulling Mark into his arms.

"'Sokay," Roger slurs, fingers playing with Mark's hair as he rocks them back and fourth until the flaying stops.

Mark yawns, eyelids fluttering open. It takes him a while before he conscious enough to talk. The first thing he says is, "Roger?"

"Yeah," Roger answers. He doesn't let go of Mark and he doesn't stop swaying.

Mark turns so that he can almost see Roger's face. He rests his head against Roger's shoulder. "You smell like club."

"Me and the guys went to get a few drinks after practice." Roger smells like alcohol and nicotine and sex. He smells like anything that would take his mind of Mark.

It worked so well that here he is, in bed with his arms wrapped around Mark.

"Oh," Mark murmurs. He yawns again, one hand coming up to hold onto Roger's collar. His fingers rub gentle circles into the skin above Roger's shirt. "I didn't wait up for you."

Roger smirks. "I can see that." The two keep swaying in the silence and darkness for a bit longer before Roger asks, "Mark?"

"Mmm?"

"If I asked, would you tell me?"

The body in his arms goes completely still.

Mark pulls away from Roger so that they're no longer touching. Roger can still feel the heat from Mark's body. He wants to lean into it, but he knows better. "They're about a lot of stuff."

"Oh," Roger frowns. He hadn't been expecting that. He hadn't expected to ask Mark at all. It seems like the sort of private thing Roger shouldn't get to know about. Still, he asks, "Like what?"

"Drowning." Mark is fidgeting. Roger can't see it, but he can hear the bed creak under Mark's small, constant movements. "My sister... She almost drowned once, and I tried to save her... Well, I'm a lot smaller than Cynthia. But those... That was a long time ago. I'm over it."

"And now?" Roger asks, because something is telling him that it's important to know.

"And now," Mark echoes back, "they're different."

"Oh." Roger doesn't know what else to say. His mind is still cloudy from too many drinks and too many thoughts about Mark. His almost little brother who Roger is meant to protect, but who is always looking out for him. It's been a long time since Mark was some eighteen year old, small town boy who needed Roger to get around. Still, Roger hates needing someone who doesn't need him back. He thinks he should still be able to take care of Mark.

He doesn't know what to do, so he just goes with his first instinct. He leans forward and kisses Mark.

"What was that?" In the dark, Mark's face is too shadowed to make out much, and Roger can't tell if he's confused or angry.

Roger bites his lip and wonders if maybe he should go back to the bar, get a few more drinks before he tries to explain. "When I was little, my mom use to kiss my every time I got scared." Roger doesn't know why he's telling this to Mark. He never talks about his childhood, not even with his best friend. In the dark, with Mark's warm body heat washing over him and his thoughts running slow, it's easy to tell Mark all of this. "Whenever I would cry she'd say that all I needed was a good kiss. It's suppose to, you know, fight away the fear."

"Your mom use to kiss you on the lips?" Mark definitely sounds confused. Roger thinks it's endearing. Like when Mark was brand new to the city and still needed Roger for everything.

"It's dark," Roger says, getting a little defensive. Here he is sharing childhood memories and Mark is getting picky about kiss placement. "I missed."

Wither Mark believes him or not he says, "Well... Um... Thanks."

The bed starts creaking again. Roger reaches out, hands groping around the sheets looking for his friend. "Mark?" His voice creaks over the word.

He nearly collapses in relief when his hands brush against warm skin. "I'm going to bed," Mark says. Sure enough, Roger can feel Mark lying down next to him.

"Oh," Roger doesn't know what to say. He can feel his face heating up. "I was just..."

"Afraid I was leaving?" Mark asks. Roger chews at his lower lip. Of course he's afraid of Mark leaving him, but he doesn't want to say that. Mark doesn't need to know exactly how much Roger needs him.

There's more shuffling and noise as the bed moves about. Roger nearly jumps out of his skin when a pair of soft lips presses against his. Mark's kiss is gentle and chaste, but that doesn't stop Roger from wanting to moan into and press closer. He goes ridged until Mark pulls back, and Roger can relax without his body jumping at the chance to do something stupid.

"There," Mark says.

Roger coughs before he can speak properly. "What?"

"You don't have to be afraid any more, Roger." Roger can feel himself being tugged down into bed. He shouldn't let Mark get so close to him, not while his mind is so confused and Mark is so warm. Roger needs time and space to think, to clear his head and get over what ever it is that is wrong with him. But Mark's arms are around his waist, his friend is pressed against his side, and Roger's exhausted from trying not to think about this. It can't hurt, to just stay this one night. After this Roger is going to stop being such an idiot. After this, he is never going to touch Mark again. He promises himself that it will all change tomorrow.

Tonight, though, he'd let Mark hold him.