Title: Early Morning Tea
Author: Sarah
Feedback: would be loved, loved, LOVED
Pairing: Mentioned Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 1322 not counting this part
Rating: Teen for cursing
Genre: General, kinda humor
Summary: Two friends new to New York City enjoy a quiet cup of tea in the morning. Kind of.
Notes: This is the longest RENT story I've every written. Bonus points to everyone who can spot the Firefly references.
Special Thanks: To my mom, who has given up on telling me to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. Sunshine is for squares.
Spoilers: Well, as long as you've seen the first eight songs of RENT, you should be fine.
Warnings: Cussing, a little bit of talk about sex, and Mark being insulted. But hey, who doesn't love those things?
Disclaimer: I can't even claim ownership of the computer I wrote this on, I definitely don't own RENT.

Mark stumbled into the loft, drunk, and nearly tripped over the dangling ends of his scarf. April caught him and carried him over to the couch, while he struggled and tried to fight of some foe he had left behind in Scarsdale, but hadn't forgotten. "Shh, Mark, calm down. It's April, your friend. Remember?" She held him and rocked him gently, whispering calming words in his ear. They stay like that until it was near midnight and Mark's sobs gave way to quiet, soft snores. April, struggling under his weight, pulled him up onto the couch. She removed his shoes and covered him in a green blanket she had bought from a garage sale. April sat by his side, keeping vigil over him, until her body couldn't take it anymore and she fell into a light sleep, her head resting on Mark's arm.

When she woke, light was streaming through the hole in the ceiling and she could hear the pigeons cooing on the fire escape and the roof. She winced standing up, the joints in her legs stiff from a night spent kneeling instead of lying down. Limping, she walked over to kitchen and starting trying to heat up yesterday's coffee. She made a mental note to find out how much hotplates cost and sipped her lukewarm coffee. Grimacing, she decided that no coffee would be better than that coffee and poured the coffee down the sink. Leaving Mark still dozing on the couch, she walked to her room. She dug through her closet, trying to find an outfit that made her look like a fiery temptress instead of a scared little girl who's far from home. So far the task seem impossible.

"April?" a voice said quietly behind her. She jumped and spun around. Mark was standing in the doorway, hair still mussed from sleep and eyes unfocused. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said apologetically.

"It's okay. I thought you were asleep," she said, leaning down to pick up the clothes she had tossed on the floor.

"I was. Just woke up." He yawned. "Maybe I should have slept longer," he joked.

April laughed, relived that he was feeling better. "Not on that couch. No one should sleep on that couch. I just put you there because you're to heavy to rag anywhere else, tubby," she said, pinching his sides.

"Weakling," he shot back.

"Shrimp."

"Witch."

"Geeky, albino virgin."

"Now that was just mean," Mark remarked.

"You know it's true." They left her room and started walking towards the kitchen area. "You are still an innocent flower, Mark Cohen. Still ignorant about the touch of a woman—or man as the case may be for you," she teased him, dodging the weak punch he aimed at her.

"It's not true. The virgin part." He sat down on a small stool they had found one day by a dumpster. "Me and Maureen…we kinda…you know," he ended lamely.

"So you doinked Maureen?" April said, putting water on to boil. She had a frown on that she wore when she was thinking. "I don't know if I like her."

Mark looked up at April, stunned. "Why?" he asked incredulously.

April tapped her fingers on the counter and thought. "She's…" she trailed off. "She's very weird," April said and started to take two cups out of the cabinet.

"Weird!" Mark repeated. "I'm weird, you're weird, who cares if she's weird?"

"I just don't like her. Something about her bothers me."

"What?" Mark asked. "What bothers you?"

"She mooed at me."

"Don't worry. She moos at everyone."

"Which proves my point. She's weird. Earl Grey or Oolong?" April asked, taking two boxes out of a drawer.

"Earl Grey. I've had bad experiences with that Oolong. I think the lady you buy it from puts something extra in it," Mark said, pulling pencil and paper out of his camera bag. He started doodling, something he was in the habit of doing when he wasn't filming. His hands needed to be kept busy. "Mooing isn't that weird. I know I guy that juggled geese for fun," he said without looking away from his drawing.

"Bet she moos during sex," April muttered under her breath and started carefully pouring the hot water into cups.

"Your supposed to wait until the water's boiling to pour it," Mark mentioned. "But you probably don't care."

April handed him his tea. "I don't." She raised her glass. "Cheers." For a few minutes the loft was quiet except for the occasional loud sip and the scratching of Mark's pencil.

Mark was the first to break the silence. "April, listen…"he began.

April interrupted him. "You were just upset last night. We all have our demons to face. Don't feel awkward about it."

"Actually, I was going to tell you that next time you really should let the water boil. This tea is shit."

"Oh."

"But if it makes you feel better, I was eventually going to bring up last night," he said, holing his tea in his left hand and sketching with his right. "I wasn't really sure what to say, but I'm sure I would have thought of something." He put the pencil down and looked up at April. "Don't worry. I'll be fine." You're here, after all. He wondered briefly if he should say that out loud, but decided against it. He'd sound like such a girl.

You don't need me anymore. She smiled. "I know you'll be fine. Just don't be such an emotional bastard," she said, using her teacup to gesture. "You look like an idiot when you cry. You get all splotchy and red. Then the snot and tears—"

"I get it." Mark stood up and held his tea aloft. "I, Mark Cohen, swear by the god-awful tea in this cup that I shall never cry again!" he proclaimed. He sat back own and sipped his tea again.

"Drama queen," April muttered. "You realized that once we find new roommates, you won't be allowed to do shit like that at," she check the small clock on the wall, "6:30 in the morning?"

Mark pouted. "Why do we have to get roommates?" he whined.

"To pay for those trivial things like food and water and electricity."

Mark walked over to the sink and poured his tea, mixing it with the coffee that was left in there from April's glass. "Anyway, I was thinking we could actually leave the loft tonight. Together. Why should I be the only one who gets drunk and embarrass themselves?" he asked, as he rinsed out the sink.

April frowned. "I don't know. You're a depressing drunk. I might not want to be around you."

"And you're an angry drunk, but I still want to hang around with you," Mark pointed out. April smacked him. "Come on. We can go see this band that's supposed to be great!" Mark said, rubbing his arm where she hit him.

April sighed. "If this band isn't good, I'll be an angry and bored drunk, which won't be a good thing for you," she warned.

"You wouldn't hurt me," Mark said. "You wouldn't want to hurt this handsome face." April laughed so hard tea came out her nose. Mark ignored her. "You should like the Well Hungarians, that's the band."

April wiped the tea of her face and sighed again. "Fine," she acquiesced. "What's the worst that could happen? What the hell am I going to wear?"

Mark beamed. "I knew you'd give in!" he said triumphantly. "No one can withstand the Mark Cohen charm."

"Damnit, Mark, don't say stuff like that when I'm drinking!"

Mark just smiled. He was with his best friend, in the city he has wanted to live in since he was little, and he was finally filming for a living. Life was good and nothing was going to change that.