Title: You Make Me Sick (also known as I Warned You)

Rating: PG-13 / T due to language

Genre: Humor (with just a dash of Mark angst)

Summary: Mark is sick of walking in on Roger & Mimi's make-out sessions. (response to challenge 11)

Word Count: 599

A/N: This is the challenge:

"Has to have both Mark and Roger in it. Preferably friendship, but you can slash it up if you wish. Has to be about Roger walking over to the bathroom and hearing Mark vomiting. You can have it be for any reason you'd like."

And what follows below is what popped into my head immediately upon reading it. –grins- I know Mark is a bit OoC, but I did my best to explain that in the fic – he's rather frazzled because he works two to three jobs a day and is, therefore, extremely tired and crabby as of late, mmkay?

-grins broadly-

And… er… to readers of The Apartment: I know, I know! I should be working on that, but… it's depressing! Writing silly stuff like this is more fitting to my mood right now. I'm sorry! I'll update eventually!

The Story:

"All right! I've had enough! If you two have one more cuddly, cutesy moment on my couch," cried an exasperated Mark, who had just walked in on one of Roger and Mimi's cuddly make-out sessions (Yes, a cuddly one. You see… there were make-out sessions and there were make-out sessions. Kinky ones, sedate ones, wild ones, and, yes, cuddly ones. All sorts of ones. But I digress.). "I'll… I'll…"

Roger and Mimi looked over at him, the latter with an amused smile and the former with quirked eyebrows. "You'll what?" Roger asked.

"I'll puke!"

"Yeah. You do that." Roger snorted, and Mimi giggled.

"You just see if I won't! Damn it, I live here, too!" Sighing, as they laughed, rolling their eyes and not taking his threat at all seriously, Mark trudged into his bedroom area (it wasn't exactly a room, as the wall separating it from the rest of the apartment was made of curtains, hand sewn and duck-taped from 'rescued' upholstery fabric and shower curtains, but it sufficed).

Of course, this scenario had been repeated time and again, once, twice, thrice a week, though Mark's threats changed on a daily basis, but the meaning was all the same. And, as Mark had yet to follow through on his promises of vengeance, Roger and Mimi, each time, had continued their activities, undaunted. And they did so, now, returning to their mumbled conversation and repeated snoodling.

It wasn't long before Mark came out of his 'room', heading for the kitchen to make some form of dinner or at least a cup of tea, if they didn't have any food, and, of course, the first thing his eyes were greeted with, as he stepped round the curtain, was the sight of Mimi and Roger, curled up together on the couch, engaging in yet another display of affection. And, at last, Mark snapped.

Lips set in a thin line, he walked right past them, clomping his shoes as heavily as he could upon the floorboards, heading straight for the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and stomped over to the toilet, where he stood, taking several deep breathes to steady himself. And then… he grabbed his toothbrush…

Roger and Mimi, meanwhile, had barely glanced at the (currently) grumpy filmmaker, stalking his way by. They knew he was just jealous of their love. Not that he was exceptionally desirous of either one of them being madly in love with him, but the idea that everyone else, except him, had a date made him envious of all couples. And, as Mark had been working two or three jobs a day, he'd been very tired, as of late, and thus, surprisingly crabby. So, Roger and Mimi ignored him.

And they continued to ignore him, until…

"What the hell was that?" inquired Roger, breaking away for a moment and cocking his ear towards the bathroom, whence he'd heard an unpleasant (albeit somewhat muffled) noise.

Mimi frowned as she listened, then looked from the bathroom door back to Roger. "Sounds like Mark's not doing so hot," she said, after listening to the dreadful noise again.

Roger, therefore, got up, and Mimi followed, just as curious and almost as concerned. Roger knocked upon the thin door and called, "Mark? What's going on in there?"

In between gagging, Mark called, "I'm puking."

Roger opened his mouth to demand why, but then realization hit him, and his eyes opened wide as saucers. "I thought you were exaggerating!"

Mark let out a rather insane cackle. Then, in a sing-songy (if a tad hoarse) voice, he called, "I warned you!"

END

A/N: Please be so kind as to leave a review, even if you hated it.