Disclaimer: I've told you repeatedly that I don't own them.
A/N: This originally was NOT going to be a chapter fic. It was a one-shot. But since all anyone on can do is say "OMG plz rite more!11111", I figured I might as well give it a shot.
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"So where are you from, Marky?"
The corner of Mark's mouth quirked up. In the twenty minutes he had spent with Roger walking to the motel he had been staying at, Mark quickly learned two things. One, that Roger never kept quiet for long. Two, once he put his mind to something, he would continue to hold onto it until the end of time. Like the nickname 'Marky'.
"Scarsdale," he replied. Roger laughed. Mark glanced at him. He'd never heard anyone laugh so freely, growing up where he did. It put him at instant ease. "Well, okay Mr. Big Shot, where are you from?"
Roger's face took on a "deer-in-headlights" expression. "Um, thats not important, let's change the subject."
This only served to make Mare more curious. "No, you gotta tell me now! Payback time!" He lifted his camera to Roger's face. "Tell the folks at home where you're from, Roger..."
Roger's face turned red and he shook his head. "Nuh-uh. No way, man."
"It's only fair," Mark grinned, poking Roger in the side.
Roger looked around to make sure they couldn't be overheard, then said in a barely audible voice, "Hicksville."
Mark howled with laughter. "And you thought Scarsdale was bad?" He zoomed in on Roger's embarassed face. "Close on Roger, having just admitted he's a big big tough guy... from Hicksville."
Roger straightened back into his usual direct posture. "And you're gonna keep it a secret, or I'll kill you," he warned, ruffling Mark's already messy hair. "Can't have my fans hearing about that."
"Fans?"
Roger looked shocked and he mock-gasped. "You've never heard of me? I'm only the lead singer of the most well-known band in the East Village!" He played a solo on an air guitar.
"Oh, I see," Mark smirked. "The pretty boy front man who gets the tickets sold."
Roger's face broke into a grin. "Pretty boy front man. I like it. I may have to use that someday."
"What is your band called?" Mark asked as they unlocked the door to his motel room.
"The Well Hungarians."
Whoa, innuendo up the wazoo, Mark thought. "Are you known for your music or for what your name implies?"
"Both," Roger winked, helping Mark pick up his bags. Mark followed him, open-mouthed, still not quite used to Roger's cheekiness.
By the time they reached the loft again, Roger had managed to find out Mark's entire life history and pledged to turn him into a "sexy wild boy."
"You just wait, Marky, we'll get you some leather pants, and add a little eyeliner, and maybe some of April's mascara so your albino eyelashes won't look weird, and you'll have girls all over you!"
Mark swallowed. What have I managed to get myself into?
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"Hold still, I'm almost done!" Roger said, grabbing a pot of thick, gooey, sparkly hair gel.
Mark looked up warily. He shook his head. "You're not putting that in my hair."
Roger grinned. "Sure I am." Before Mark could get another word in, Roger had scooped up a huge glop of gel and plopped it onto the top of Mark's head. Mark sighed and resigned himself to having glittery hair.
Not that theres that much left, he thought. Roger, in addition to forcing Mark into leather pants, a tight red shirt, and thick black eyeliner, had hacked off most of Mark's shaggy blond hair. A glop of gel slid down the back of his neck. "ROGER! Get that stuff off my fucking neck!" Mark squirmed as he felt it slide into his shirt. "Argh, disgusting."
"Get used to it, Marky. It's all a part of teh sex," Roger replied matter-of-factly, wiping the gel off of Mark's neck.
"Did you just say 'teh'?"
"Yep."
Mark blinked a few times. Roger paid no attention, his focus completely on Mark's hair.
Ten minutes later, Roger stood back and surveyed Mark's hair. "Oh yeah. Definitely screaming sex."
Mark stood up and slowly walked over to the bathroom mirror. His eyes widened as he looked at his reflection.
The tight clothing actually accentuated his build, making him look stronger instead of scrawnier. Roger had artfully applied the eyeliner to make Mark's eyes pop. His hair even looked decent. A bit too glittery for Mark's taste, but not bad. Not bad at all... he mused, suprised.
"Well, what do you think?" Roger leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and smirking at Mark's reaction.
Mark looked at Roger. "I can't believe I actually let you do this."
Roger's face fell. "You don't like it?"
A slow grin appeared on Mark's face. "No, its awesome. But no one's around to see it."
Roger's smirk returned to his face. "They will soon enough. Let's go." He grabbed Mark dragged him out the door.