A/N: Hello all! I'm glad that you guys liked Carrie coming back! Yay! I was very happy creating the peace offering so it's good you guys liked it too. Don't worry, Carrie will not stop the M/R-ness. Don't fret!

Disclaimer: All Jonathan Larson's.

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Mark's POV

I rub my palms roughly against my thighs, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. All of my nervous ticks have reoccurred, something I thought I could get under control by now. The car moves swiftly down the street, and my eyes connect with everything on the side of the road. A man walking his dog, a woman holding her infant and talking to her friend, two men talking outside a café, teenagers chatting comically. All of it grabs my attention as I try to calm myself down.

Roger entwines our fingers together, suppressing my shaking slightly, but it never completely goes away. I know he wants to lean over and kiss me, but with his mom driving it would be sort of awkward. Instead he just stares directly into my eyes, drawing me in, making me dizzy, prompting a blush. Roger could command me to do anything and I would probably agree to it. For some reason he hypnotizes me every second I am around him. Looking down at our fingers, I can barely tell which ones are mine. It makes me grin, just to think about the connection. I feel so close to Roger, and it's corny, but he makes me happier than I've ever been.

Carrie and Roger have been hanging out more often, constantly leaving me out, making me feel like I'm not wanted. But at the end of the day when Roger calls me, his voice soothing at the other end, I can't seem to tell him that I'm slightly jealous. I know he cares about me, and I know that he really doesn't mean to leave me out, but it would be a different thing if he invited me to hang out with him and Carrie. Carrie doesn't like me. I know it. And I think that's what hurts the most. The fact that Roger is friends with someone who can't accept our relationship. Or maybe it's because I suspect Carrie of still having feelings for Roger.

Maybe I'm being selfish. Do I want Roger all to myself? That couldn't be it. I know he has other friends, and so do I. Then why is this bothering me so much? Either way I know that Roger isn't going to leave me for her. That's a thought I can stick with.

I crawl out of my mind, and concentrate on the road once again. Going to see Roger's dad. Maybe I shouldn't concentrate on that. That's the thing that's making me nervous. Roger assured me that I would be fine, that his dad is an ass but Roger doesn't care what he thinks. I'm still really scared about my first impression. I was lucky with Roger's mom, but I usually don't make good first impressions. Roger's dad is someone I'm very afraid of. Just the things that Roger tells me are enough to scare me out of my mind. But seeing the man, being with his son, possibly having to hold Roger's hand in front of him, it's all too much to take.

"Mark, settle down. I told you, I don't care what he thinks. You're shaking like crazy." Roger finally says, after about twenty minutes of feeling me shake beneath his touch. He lays his hand on the back of my neck, stroking my hair calmly and allowing me to shut my eyes and relax.

"I know, it's just…what if he gets mad? I mean, will he be upset about…this?" I try to keep my explanation to a minimum, as I'm not entirely comfortable talking about it in front of Roger's mom. But he really doesn't seem to mind. I don't see why he doesn't just kiss me then.

"I'm sure he will be. But I don't care. Nothing is going to change how I feel about you." He finally leans in, pressing our lips together lightly, but my eyes immediately rocket to the front seat. I'm sure his mother is watching and listening to all of this, but after that line, I don't really care anymore. His confidence, even in front of his mother, definitely adds to my admiration of Roger.

"Thanks." I whisper, my breath sticking to his cheek, and he smiles back at me.

"Anytime." He turns back towards the front, placing our connected hands on his lap and sighing loudly.

"Roger, you know that you cannot do that in front of your father right?" Roger's mom chimes in, and suddenly I feel like an idiot. She was obviously upset watching her son express feelings for another boy.

"What?" Roger acts oblivious, and I feel his hand loosen from our firm grip.

"You boys…I admire what you have at this age. But I don't think your father will be too fond of it, and I know it will be hard on him. He didn't expect this out of you." She turns the wheel sharply, dodging a small critter but keeping her cool. A little too cool for this conversation.

"Expect what?" He sounds so bewildered, as if he didn't know his father might be against this. The confidence I just gained seconds ago is plummeting once again.

"You being with Mark. Mark, dear, you know that I wouldn't have chosen anyone else for my son. I am perfectly fine with you two. But I don't think that Roger's father will feel the same way. All I'm saying Roger is that you shouldn't be surprised if you father gets a little…angry…to say the least." Her eyes stay glued to the road the entire time, squinting at street signs to find her way to the restaurant. Roger's head drops, and I think he's finally realized what he's about to do.

"Rog, do you think this is stupid?" I question, as my own thoughts have gone spinning out of control. It's only been a few weeks. I appreciate the sentiment, and I know that I want this to become serious, but does he feel the same way? I always thought that I was overestimating my feelings.

"What?" His breath becomes heavier, as everyone gangs up on him at once. "No, Mark. I don't think it's stupid. I like you. I want you to be there when I see my dad. Why is everyone…" I hear his voice rise, and retract my question as quick as I can.

"Shhh…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you. I'm just nervous that this will explode in our faces. If you want me to be there then I'm there. I'm sorry. Sorry." I ramble on, rubbing his back as gently as possible, trying to gain back his trust. All he does is stare down at his knees, and I'm unable to tell what he's thinking, until he catches my gaze. I see it there, in his thoughts, in his eyes, in his expression. He really needs me here.

"Don't think that way. It will all be okay if you just trust me." He grips his fingers between mine, pulling me closer to him.

"I do trust you." I confess, and hear Roger's mother awkwardly clear her throat in front of us.

"Good. Mom stay out of our conversations." He says lightheartedly, using our entangled hands to press our bodies together, and allow me to lean my head against his chest. His mother giggles at him, and then winks to me through the rear view mirror. We ride the rest of the way in that position, my temple resting on his heart, moving with his breaths, feeling it pound and settle.

When we enter the restaurant, I can tell that Roger's father is rich. There are crystal chandeliers, elegant statues and paintings, perfectly crisp carpet and wood floor, and not to mention the stuck up looking people surrounding me. The higher class is mobbing me, and I suddenly feel like I should be wearing something a little more…dressy. I tried to look my best, in khakis and one of my nice sweaters, but I feel like a hobo around these people. I can only imagine what Roger's father will think of me. Great, I will have made an impression before I even open my mouth to speak.

The thing adding to my nerves is that I'm not allowed to make any contact with Roger. His mother told us that unless we want to get evil stares, we should probably keep the public displays of affection to a low. He wants to reach out and grasp my hand in his, to pull me into his body for an embrace, to press his lips to my temple, but he can't do anything. Instead he just stands stiffly next to me, awaiting the sight of his father somewhere at a silk draped table. I take the moment in which Roger's mom is not looking, and lean over to Roger's ear.

"Do I look okay?" I whisper, and he turns his head to run his eyes up and down my body. It gives me some kind of unique pleasure to watch him do this, especially after a small smirk comes onto his lips.

"Of course. Especially your ass." He says with a wanton look on his face, as his hand slowly creeps around my waist. I smack it away before his fingers connect with the fabric of my pants, and he winces in shock.

"Roger…don't." I say harshly, and he pouts for a second before his mother shows up next to him.

"They said that your father is at a table in the back. Apparently he was rather rude asking for a non-smoking seat, so they put him in a corner completely out of sight." She chuckles, enjoying the punishment her ex-husband…or is he? I should make a mental note to ask Roger when we get back home.

We walk for about two minutes, weaving around waiters and tables, and I try my best not to rub anyone the wrong way by acting impolitely. They really weren't kidding; they put him way in the back. By the time we finally make it to his table, I'm about ready to give up on this whole thing. The whole adventure through the restaurant has made me even more nervous than I was before. And now I don't have Roger's touch, or even words, to calm me down.

Roger's mom greets his father and his girlfriend, shaking her hand and visibly holding back a scowl. Roger looks over to me to roll his eyes, then notices the sad frown I am carrying on my face. He reaches for my hand, then stops himself, sighing with frustration and turning back towards the table.

"Roger you look taller than when I last saw you. How long's it been?" His father's voice is rough and low, with a coarse coat that Roger's smooth voice is fortunately missing. He's wearing a cheap suit, and I'm starting to doubt my earlier assumption. The middle-aged man appears as though he's trying to fit in with the rich folk, but can't seem to adjust completely. His hair is a sandy blond like Roger's, but his eyes shine with a much darker green. I can see where Roger got his facial shape from, and even the way he carries himself, but nothing else about this man reminds me of his son. And for that, I'm partially grateful.

"About six months." Roger grimaces, taking a seat next to his mother and leaving a spot open for me. I see him take in a deep breath before pointing to me and starting his introduction. "Dad…this is Mark." Roger smiles, as I too sit down, and wave my hand slightly in the direction of his father.

"Yes. Your mother told me he was coming. I still don't see why you needed to bring a friend to this dinner. I wanted you to meet my fiancé, not to completely ignore me for your friend all evening." I glance over to see Roger fuming, and I lay my hand on his thigh beneath the table. His head turns towards me, and he shakes it slowly without being noticeable. I know he's sorry for his father's behavior, but it makes me appreciate him even more when he feels the need to express an apology.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Davis." I say politely, as if oblivious to the insult I just received. He nods at me, smiling falsely and then breathing heavily through his nose.

"This is my fiancé Danielle. She is an accountant." He says with a huge smile, dropping the fact that I'm here and concentrating on the slender woman next to him. Her hair is almost pitch black, tied up in a messy bun and haphazardly falling in her face at random moments. Her smile is perfectly symmetrical, but her teeth are tinted yellow, probably from smoking. I can smell her halfway across the table. That gives me the idea that Roger's father doesn't really care about other people too much, as he got a non-smoking table. Or maybe she's trying to quit. She looks a little worn down and tired. Her dress is a ruby red, clinging to her tightly and allowing her sharp bones to show through the fabric.

"It's nice to meet you Danielle. And John, Roger had something to tell you if you wouldn't have interrupted him like that." Roger's mother adds at the last second, smiling at Roger and I and awaiting the news to be broken. Roger opens his mouth in surprise, probably not expecting to have to tell his father about us so soon into the evening. His grip on my hand under the table becomes tighter, and I gasp silently as he's dangerously close to crushing my bones. "Or he will tell you when the time comes." She changes her statement, noticing the state of shock she put her son through, and I finally feel Roger relax.

The conversation carries on through dinner, after ordering the least expensive thing on the menu for myself and watching as everyone else talk about random issues. Roger stays almost silent the whole time, every once and a while he hesitates to lean his head on my shoulder before frowning and leaning back in his chair. Danielle seems a little nicer than Roger's father, and halfway through the meal I begin to think that she could do better. Not that Roger's father is cold or horrible in anyway, he's rather funny when the time is right, but she just seems to have more personality and grace than he ever will. Roger's mother stays polite and respectful, even when crude things are said or insults slowly slip by.

By the time dessert comes, I'm about ready to leave and never come back. I long to touch Roger, and sitting beside him for so long with only his hand and leg to work with is becoming unbearable.

"So, Mark, how old are you?" His father finally acknowledges me, after an entire night of ignoring my existence at the table. I sit up straight in my seat, clear my throat, and prepare my answer as if I'm competing for some award.

"I'm a freshman. So fifteen." I answer confidently, and Roger's father frowns.

"Oh. You're quite young. Roger aren't you eighteen?" He furrows his brow towards his son, and it amazes me that he doesn't even know his own offspring's age. Roger sighs quietly and shakes his head.

"No dad. I'm seventeen. I don't turn eighteen 'til next January." Roger states irritably, and his mother gives him a concerned look, telling him to be patient. "What does it matter anyway if Mark's younger than me?" He asks curiously, gripping my hand once again under the table. Shit. I hope this doesn't start something bad.

"Well it's just weird. I would have never been friends with a freshman while I was a junior. Freshmen were always teased back then. Being friends with one…" His sentence drops off into a mumble, and I can tell Roger is starting to get really angry.

"I'm not friends with Mark, Dad." He stops himself to prepare, then looks over at me lovingly, placing his hand on my arm. "We are going out." My eyes lower to the tablecloth, and he boldly wraps his arm around my waist. In a way I want to tell him to stop, but this is his decision.

"Linda, did you know about this?" He immediately turns to Roger's mother, and she smiles with a nod.

"Yes John, and I completely approve." She says matter-of-factly, smirking at Roger and I and pressing her hand to my shoulder. "Look how happy Roger looks, John." She adds when she notices the shocked look on his face. I cringe in fear as I wait for a response, a scream, a calm acceptance, or a full-blown scolding.

"Well...Roger…I guess whatever makes you happy is…fine…with me." He separates his words with a swiftness, which almost makes me believe there is truth in his statement. But then I see the cold stare he's throwing at me, and all respect I had for this man has gone completely out the window. We finish our meal in a tense mood, the conversations becoming short and awkward, as Roger's hand rests around my waist and he scoots his chair closer to me.

Once we vacate the table, the whole party moves to the doors while Danielle and Roger's mom visit the bathroom. Roger's father leans against the wall, his feet extended out to hold himself up and a wrinkled frown covering his face. I wait for him to say something, to make conversation, but for a few minutes he just stands there glaring at both of us. Roger grasps my hand in his at last, in front of the entire restaurant, and even his father. A small smile plays on my lips, and even though I'm deathly afraid, it makes me proud of Roger that he's able to build up this courage.

"Roger…" His father scoffs, trying to tell Roger to let go of my hand. But the teen ignores him. I, however, am unable to make any action at all. Instead I stand frozen in my tracks, as I sense a fight brewing.

"Roger please stop that." He says again, this time his voice raising only a little, but not enough to be noticed by all of the people around him.

"Why should I?" Roger snaps back defensively.

"Because I don't want half of this restaurant, and New York for that matter to know that I've got a gay son."

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"Maybe I am." He answers back bluntly, and I take the opportunity to detach from Roger. I don't think holding hands is helping matters in the slightest. Roger doesn't seem to notice, but instead carries on with his father.

"I knew you had more to say when I told you. I can always tell when you are hiding something."

"Yea, well. I don't want you seeing that boy again Roger. Do you understand me?" His father is speaking like I'm not standing right there. Apparently I've become invisible.

"No Dad. You don't control my life. I can be with Mark if I want. You're not going to stop me." Roger screams before storming out the door and to the car. I hesitate to follow him, having to weave myself around Mr. Davis in order to get out the door.

When I reach the outdoors, the moon is shining bright in the sky, and I'm able to see Roger leaning against the car, his face buried in his hands. I make my way towards him, leaning my palm to his shoulder and placing my cheek against his.

"It's okay Rog. He's just upset at the news." I rub my hand gently up his arm, and press my lips to his forehead softly.

"I don't care what he thinks. I just…I know that he's not the only one who will be ashamed of me. Or who is ashamed of me." He tilts his head up to look me in the eyes, and I smile to let him know that it will be all right.

"I'm sorry, I'm the cause of this…I…"

"Mark, don't do that." He stops me before I begin rambling on about myself, and joins our mouths together cautiously. Our lips hug each other, teeth clicking lightly and tongues staying out of the picture. His hand moves to my neck, deepening the kiss, as I throw my arms around his neck. Hips grind subtly, and Roger moans into my mouth, shuddering as I slide my thigh between his legs. He breaks away, exhibiting a smile, and reminding me that we are in a parking lot, with his father probably watching us. He presses his forehead to mine, shutting his eyes and allowing me to catch my breath.

"I love you…" I sigh, my breath mingling with his until he sharply pulls away. Shit. I didn't even think about it before it came out. This is certainly not the time or place I wanted to say that. Roger stares at me for a few seconds in shock, then kisses me briefly again.

"I…I love you too." He smiles, wider than I've ever seen him smile before, then tangles our hands together between our chests.

"I'm tired." I say after a long silence, and he nods with a moan.

"Me too. We need to get to bed." He smirks, touching our lips together slowly. I sigh again, all of the fear and nerves from the evening washing off of me, to leave Roger and I.

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Notes: Aww…the fluff. Did y'all think Roger's father was…sufficient? Hah. I hope you liked the chapter! And don't get your hopes up, that last line is not leading to the big event. Sorry all. Review for me? Thank you XD