Ah, domo arigato to EVERYONE who reviewed (or at least read) the first chapter, and now I bring you the second! I greatly appreciate all of your feedback-you are too kind! And now…I don't own RENT, blah blah blah, ditto ditto.

A/N: I actually expanded this chapter due to overwhelming feedback from the first chappie

"ROGER!"

"It looks nice!"

"LIKE HELL IT DOES! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I didn't—Mark, that's our only coffeepot, don't you dare—"

"Roger, what did you do to me! You had better tell me this comes out!"

"It does!"

"How?"

Roger sweatdropped. "Uh…I think the package said 20-30 shampoos…"

"…I'LL KILL YOU!"

"No, stop, don't, it was just a joke! It was a joke!"

"Roger, we aren't in college anymore. Well, I'm not in college anymore, you didn't even start there! And if you did you would've been put fraternity Alpha Sigma Sigma! Why didn't I just buy you a UMASS sweatshirt and stick a 'D' in front of the 'U'?"

"UMASS…" Roger pieced it together in his head. "D in front--DUMA--oh! I get it! Clever little bastard, aren't you?"

"Why couldn't you have just covered the toilet seats with Saran Wrap?"

"Because a) we have no Saran Wrap and b) this is fifty times more original-and hilarious, I might add. C'mon, can't you take a joke?"

Mark halted on the other side of the couch with a grinning Roger staring back at him. "Dyeing my hair this color while I slept does not count as a joke. It counts as sadistic torture."

"How is it sadistic?"

"It is in that you find so much enjoyment from the fact that it looks like Barbie threw up on my head!"

"I know, but—I thought it was funny."

Mark folded his arms across his chest. "Roger, your hair isn't bright pink. You're going to straighten in out, now."

"Hmm…nah, I don't think I'm tired of it quite yet…"

"Roger!" Mark whined. "I have to go to work tomorrow! I can't go in looking like this, I get enough flack already! People will think I'm Pink's bastard offspring or something!"

Roger chuckled. "That's pretty funny, actually. Are you a 'Stupid Girl' or are you just 'Mizundastood'?"

"Roger…" Mark's voice got a dangerous edge to it, a warning father tone that would be incredibly useful should the day come he have a family. "Roger, if you wash my hair right now I promise not to kill you later."

"Not good enough, you're hair's still got a hilarious factor of about twenty out of twenty."

"I'll give you what I know you'll want. I'll give you—"

Roger bolted upright, his lips curling into a warm smile and closing his eyes in bliss as Mark said the magic "S" word. Of what that did to him. Of the nice feeling he got inside.

Roger was feeling warm and fuzzy all of a sudden, and a warm and fuzzy Roger was capable of great things.

Twenty minutes later, Mark was kneeling in front of the bathtub with his head underneath a jet of water as Roger scrubbed his scalp for the fifth time. Mimi conveniently had some baby shampoo with her, which was useful for removing hair dye. Of course, since Roger had used Manic Panic, it only took five shampoos to remove the cursed pink dye. Mark's hair was still a little tinged by the fifth scrubbing, but he said his knees were killing him and that he, unlike some people, was not raised Catholic and used to spending a lot of time kneeling.

After Mark towel-dried his hair, he turned to see Roger staring at him like an expectant puppy, eagerly waiting for his reward. Mark sighed, threw the towel on the floor, and retrieved something from the top shelf of his closet.

"Here," he grunted, tossing Roger's Sailor Moon DVDs at him as his roommate released an excited squeal. Mark reminded himself to comb through the house for any remaining Manic Panic dye for his revenge.

Review…review…Mark and Roger say review…

Mark and Roger: Review….

A/N: I apologize for anyone who went to UMASS and happened to be in fraternity Alpha Sigma Sigma. No sweatshirts were horrendously ridiculed in the making of this fic.