Disclaimer: All Jonathan's.
Roger looked up from his guitar when he heard Mark emerge from his bedroom. His face twisted in confusion that soon turned into laughter. "Dork."
"What?" Mark looked down at himself.
"What are you wearing?" Roger stopped strumming, curious at his roommate's attire.
"Pajamas," the filmmaker replied nonchalantly.
"Why are they inside out?" Roger inquired.
Mark's blue eyes lit up behind his glasses and a smile decorated his face. "Roger! It's going to snow tonight!"
Roger just blinked. Mark was so weird.
"You know, you wear your pajamas inside out to make it snow," he said, recalling his childhood.
"Uh huh…" Roger rolled his eyes. "Are you three or twenty-three?"
"Stop being such a funsucker," Mark remarked. "C'mon, put yours on inside out." He seemed excited.
Roger rolled his eyes and succumbed to Mark's smile. "Fine." Removing the guitar from his lap, he yanked down his black flannel pants and flipped them inside out. He pulled them over his skinny legs quickly, the cold of the loft biting at his ankles. He pulled off his ACDC shirt and turned it around before pulling it back over his head. "Happy?"
"Yes!" Mark clapped his hands excitedly. "I really hope it snows."
"It snows every year," Roger commented.
"Yeah… but this year is… different."
--
"Roger! Wake up!"
Roger opened his eyes to see Mark hovering over him, a huge grin plastered on his face. "What?"
"It snowed!" the Jewish boy sat down on the edge of Roger's bed, shaking the musician until he looked out the window.
Sure enough, white painted the entire street. Cars were buried and the world was still. It was nearly impossible to get a car down the snow-covered street. "It's pretty," Roger commented, turning towards Mark. "Are you going to film or something?"
Mark shrugged. "I kind of want to… don't laugh okay."
"What?"
"I want to go play in it."
Roger didn't laugh. Instead he smiled. It was a reminiscent smile. He thought back to when he was a little kid and used to make snow angels with his big sister in their backyard. "Where are you going to … play?"
"In the street, no cars can get by," Mark replied, standing up. "Well, I'm going to eat breakfast and then go out." Mark turned to leave.
"Wait," Roger climbed out of bed, "I want to come."
--
Mark wrapped his blue and white scarf tightly around his neck before slipping on matching blue gloves. He pulled on his tan coat and a blue hat. "Ready, Rog?"
"Hold on," Roger pulled on his dark green scarf and gloves. He zippered up his black leather jacket and pulled on a green hat that went well his eyes over his growing brown hair. "Ready… Mark?"
Mark had wandered into Roger's room with his camera. "Mark?"
"Just a sec," he fiddled with the tripod, and then turned around. "Ready."
Roger smiled and placed his arm around his friend's shoulder as he led him into the snowy street.
Roger didn't like the cold much. He stayed close to the door, watching Mark run into the street, flopping on his backside to make a snow angel.
"Roger! Let's make a snowman!"
"Have fun, Marky," Roger replied.
Mark rolled his eyes. He balled a little bit of snow and placed it on the curb. Roger watched intently as Mark gathered an even bigger handful. He allowed his gaze to wander down the street. "Hey Rog!"
Roger turned his head just in time to feel the icy cold of the snowball Mark made hit his face. "Bastard," he muttered. "You're going to pay, Cohen."
"Oh really?" the blond grinned.
Roger narrowed his eyes and grinned mischievously. He leaped off the steps and into the snow. Mark started backing up, catching the gleam in the musician's eyes.
"Rog…"
Roger just grinned wider and started running.
Mark laughed and backed up faster.
In an instant, Roger was in the air. In another, both boys were laying on the snowy sidewalk, Roger on top of Mark. Mark didn't know if he should smile anymore. His cheeks were bright red from the bitter cold. "Are you going to throw snowballs at me anymore?" Roger asked, hoping his little lesson had taught the boy.
"How do you know I don't like being tackled and covered in freezing cold snow?" Mark teased, egging Roger on.
Roger just smiled, shoving his face into Mark's and locking their lips. "Want to go inside?" he asked, pulling his mouth away from the scared boy.
Mark nodded, suppressing a satisfied grin. Roger rolled off his friend and pulled him up. "Come on," Roger wrapped his arm around Mark who leaned into him until they reached the loft.
Discarding the wet and snowy garments, the boys awkwardly entered their separate rooms to change. Roger came out first, his flannel pants and ACDC shirt returned to his body still inside out. Unable to find matching socks, on his left he wore a green one and the right a blue and yellow striped on. He put some water on the stove and set out two mugs and some hot chocolate mix.
"Hey Mark I…" Roger didn't finish when he saw Mark leave his room and immediately enter Roger's. "…okay."
Roger didn't turn around when Mark came back out, doing something in the living room. He impatiently waited for the water to boil. Turning around, he rolled his eyes at Mark playing with his camera and the projector. Roger smiled to himself. He had to admit, Mark was so cute when he furrowed his brow and tried so hard to perfect his film. That's what Roger envied about Mark: his passion. Sure Roger loved his music, but he was nowhere near as dedicated as Mark was. He was slow to peel his eyes off the boy when the water began boiling. He poured it into the mugs, mixing the chocolate powder and added a few marshmallows. He carried it into the living room, placing the mugs on the table. Roger balled himself up on the couch, a blanket over his legs.
"Mark, come sit down," Roger patted the seat next to him. "You can play with your camera later."
"Just a second," Mark flipped a switch and an image flashed on the screen. He wandered over towards the couch and sat next to Roger, pulling the blanket over his crossed legs and leaning against his roommate.
"Here," Roger forced the blue mug into Mark's hands with a smile. Mark grinned back, taking a sip.
"Mmm." He gestured toward the screen, "Look."
Roger took his eyes off his roommate and glanced at the screen. The snowy street was cast on the projector, soon joined by the figures of the two boys.
Sipping the hot chocolate, they relived the events of the past hour. Roger placed his empty mug on the table next to Mark's glasses.
"I wish it would snow like this every year," Mark commented, leaning into Roger's strong body.
Roger wrapped his arm around the blond, resting his head on top of Mark's. "It does snow like this every year."
"No," Mark closed his eyes, "this year was different."
Fin