Hola mi fellow amigas and amigos,

How was your weekends? Mine was fairly good. :-) haha okay down to business. Hours is dedicated solely to our dear friend Sam Sam (aka ControlledChaos) who recently had a crummy day. We've all had em you can't deny it. This is Mimi's crummy day. That turns a bit fluffy with our boy Roger at the end (--shhhhh--he gets a little frisky--wink--wink--)

Kk, story numero dose is another addition to the MMAR (Mark/Mimi after Roger). I don't know why I like writing them after poor Roger's death but a plot bunny attacked melast nightand refused to let me ago unless I gave him some carrots. ;-) As always...

E-N-J-O-Y!

Dru

6. Hours

Mimi hated it.

She hated the fact that if she was having a wonderful, terrific, perfect day the hours flew by. But if she was having a terrible, awful, nothing is going my way day the hours drug by, as if taunting her.

She had awoken in the loft completely alone. Roger had left her a note on the counter; he had to pick up more AZT on his way to practice. Mark had left her a note in the bathroom, reminding her to hang up her towel when she was done. After leaving her wet towel in a heap on the floor, she headed out into the cool fall morning, wondering if Maureen or Angel was doing anything.

Maureen had gone with Joanne to her firm today. Mimi smacked her forehead, standing on the stoop of their house. It was Wednesday. Of course Maureen had gone with Joanne. Free coffee on Wednesdays…

Angel had gone with Collins. He had returned back to school for the fall semester and wouldn't be back again until Christmas time. Mimi sulked the entire way home, kicking sheepishly at the sidewalk. She almost cried out in frustration when she returned to a still empty, freezing cold loft. She shrugged out of her coat and let it crumple on the ground like her towel. She stood still for a minute, hands on her hips, wondering what to do. She wriggled underneath the covers and sighed heavily before promptly falling back to sleep.

"Mimi…Mimi…little girl…hello! Wake up Meems!"

Mimi opened an aggravated eye to see Mark was hovering over her, clutching her coat and semi-damp towel.

"Did you not see my note?"

"I saw it," Mimi snapped, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Mark sighed in defeat and tossed them on the bedroom floor.

"It's 4:30 Mimi. You need to get up."

"Is Roger home?"

"Not yet."

"Then no I don't."

"Did you honestly sleep all day?" Mark asked. Mimi shrugged.

"Yeah so?"

"You getting sick again girly?" he asked in a sing-song sort of way.

"Probably," Mimi moaned.

"Roger'll be home soon alright? I'm going to go make you some tea…"

"I hate tea," Mimi growled, feeling grumpy and somewhat weak. Mark simply pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving. Mimi stared up at the ceiling, interrupting her thoughts every so often to cough or sniffle in aggravation.

"Damn it," she cursed softly.

"What's a matter baby?"

It was as if the knight and shining armor had just walked through the door. Roger flopped over on the bed next to her.

"Mark thinks I'm sick," Mimi pouted. "And the both of you left a sick girl to fend for herself all day." Roger raised an eyebrow at her.

"You don't look sick Mimi," he crawled over on top of her and shimmed down a bit so he was level with her belly. She ran her fingers through his shaggy mess of hair.

"I don't feel sick," she added.

"Stop listening to Mark," Roger ran his cold hands up underneath her shirt and laid a trail of kisses on her now bare belly. Mimi moaned softly.

"Will you stay home with me tomorrow?" she asked, wriggling a bit under Roger's touch.

"Mmmm…if your good," Roger licked a hot trial with his tongue up her tummy and she squeaked in surprise before giggling. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"And what…in Roger Davis' book…is considered good?" Roger grinned like a Cheshire cat and Mimi had to toss a pillow at him.

"Your evil."

"Nah," Roger pulled her shirt back down and climbed up her a bit so he was hovering over her top half now. "Not evil. Just very smart." He tapped a finger against his temple for emphasizes. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and neck making her giggle softly. Before pulling up he gave her earlobe a gentle nibble.

"I know your going to end up staying home with me," Mimi said stubbornly.

"Oh? And how do we figure?"

"Cause!" Mimi said. "The hours are too long when you're not with me."

"Spoken like a true love-sick puppy dog Meems," he grinned again and she pinched his side. "I love you."

Mimi knew that the hours tomorrow were sure to fly by.

92. Christmas

"I think we did a fairly good job," Mimi said proudly, resting her tired head against Mark's shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, resting his head on top of hers. "It does look pretty." The two of them were sitting on the couch, in the middle of the loft, admiring the decorating job they had done to their barely 4 foot tall Christmas tree. Maureen and Joanne had left earlier after adding their Christmas-decorating touch to the place. They knew it was Christmas Eve, a little late for the decorating, but Maureen had insisted upon it. Collins and Angel would be back soon. Mark and Mimi were excited. But both of them knew a cloud hung over their heads, dampening their excitement down to a minimum.

It would be their first Christmas without Roger.

The bright colors of yellows and reds and blues and purples radiating off of the string of lights, danced upon both their faces as they huddled close for warmth.

"Do you know what would taste good right about now?" Mimi asked, lifting her head off of Mark's shoulder.

"What?"

"Egg nog."

"But you hate egg nog," Mark said.

"Do not!"

"Since when?"

"Since…now," Mimi stood up. "Fine…be a party pooper but don't expect anything special come morning time mister." Mark pouted.

"Meeeeeeeeeeemi," he whined. "Please? You're going to disappoint a little Jewish boy on Christmas morning?" Mimi giggled.

"Gotta catch me first," she hoped over the coffee table and headed towards the kitchen. Mark gripped her waist from behind and she giggled before turning around and loosely gripping his wrists.

"Oh Mark," Mimi sang.

"Huh?"

"Look," Mimi pointed above the kitchen door to where Maureen had hung up a small piece of mistletoe. Mark's face immediately became warm. He gently took her hands in his.

"Meems, we don't have to," he said softly.

"But…what if I want to?" Mimi whispered slowly. Before Mark could even think to register the question, Mimi's lips had brushed clumsily against his.

'Alright Roger' Mark's brain started to shout. 'Is this what you wanted? Is this what you meant when you told me to take care of her?'

Over the past year, the past 12 months, the past 52 weeks, 365 days, and 525,600 minutes the process had been gradual. But Mark couldn't seem to fight it anymore. He was falling in love with Mimi. So he took a chance, resting his hands on the small of Mimi's back, deepened the kiss. Mimi ran a hand gently through Mark's hair, not backing down. She was unknowingly nipping at Mark's bottom lip, which had once been her and Roger's secret signal to let each other know that it was okay. Mark, obviously having no intellect of this, blushed an even darker shade of red and did the first instinctive thing to do and that was to deepen the kiss a bit more. Mimi still didn't back down.

'As long as we keep kissing' Mimi thought. 'We won't have to face each other right? We won't have to explain what the hell just happened? I won't have to tell him that I'm falling in love with him?' Mimi forced the thoughts out of her head, suddenly forgetting where she was. Only when it became impossible to kiss anymore without passing out from lack of oxygen, did Mimi pull away. She kept her forehead rested against Mark's.

Both of them panted softly, not sure of what to do or what to say. Guilt overtook Mark quickly.

"Mimi…," he whispered, his glasses fogged a bit. "I didn't mean…,"

"I did," Mimi cut him off, her voice breathy and small. Her arms were still over his neck. She buried her face into his shirt and started to cry. Mark held her tightly, wiping away tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey, it's going to be okay Mimi. I love you," Mark stated softly. Mimi was crying because she missed Roger. Mark knew that. He knew the last person she had kissed like that had been the love of her life. Memories started to flood back. He could still feel her lips against his. He could still feel the guilt welling up in a knot below his rib cage. Mimi lifted her head from his shoulder, staring straight into his cold blue eyes with her soft brown ones. Any trace of tears was now gone. She kissed him again. This time light and quick before pulling away and holding him close to her.

"I love you too," she whispered.

"Where…where do we go from here Mimi?" Mark whispered into her hair, worried of what she might say. Mimi's eyes grew slightly wider.

"You won't leave me now will you?"

"No! Of course not," Mark answered quickly. In some ways Mimi was the last shred of Roger Mark had left. Had they just totally screwed everything up? The ability to be comfortable around each other? Roger's wish of keeping Mimi safe?

"I…I don't know Mark," Mimi answered once she had been assured of her earlier fears. Mark gently nuzzled her forehead and exhaled slowly. She wanted him to kiss her again. He wanted her to kiss him again. As if coming to terms with their silent yearnings Mark captured her lips in his again.

"We'll…we'll take it slow okay?" he whispered gently. Mimi smiled against his chest.

"Okay." The clock chimed from the living room.

Midnight.

"Merry Christmas Mark," she whispered, placing a final baby kiss upon his lips.

"Merry Christmas Mimi," Mark whispered back, holding her close.

He hoped this is what Roger had wanted.