When We Are Happy
Chapter Two: How To Play Nice

The best part about Roger is his hands. They're hardened and big, rough and gentle when they need to be. He chews off his nails and doesn't use bad smelling lotions like the girl did. When he pest Cohen, all he can smell is the human and there are no sharp, pointed claws digging into his skin. It's like heaven.

"You're like heaven," Cohen purrs, but of course Roger doesn't get him. He does scratch Cohen in exactly the right place though, and that's good enough. It's weird how Roger can be so good at petting him but can't understand anything Cohen tries to tell him. Then again, Cohen secretly believes Roger must have some cat in him. He's got eyes that look feline when he smiles, and they way he stretches out looks almost like a house cat warming in the sun. Besides, he's too cool to be entirely human.

Today is a lazy day. Roger hasn't even gone for his guitar yet. He's spent the entire morning laying back in his bed and staring at the ceiling. Cohen doesn't mind. He spent the night running some rats out of Roger's clothes, and he enjoys just collapsing next to his owner and letting him pet him.

The worst part about Roger is he's always thinking about stuff. Not good stuff, like playing with strings or jumping around on the bed. Bad stuff, like the human who had kept Cohen for a month before handing him off to Roger or that blonde thing that lives with him. Today is a blonde day, because today the thing came in and gave Roger back his leather jacket. Cohen's not sure what this means, but he can tell Roger's thinking about it.

He can also tell that any second now, Roger is going to start talking to him about it. He has no idea why Roger does this, since the human seems to think he can't understand him and he knows that as Roger isn't smart enough to understand him, but he does it anyone. "Something's wrong with Mark."

Mark is the blonde human that Cohen is named after. He doesn't see why, as him and the blonde have nothing in common expect for Roger. They both like spending time with the human. Of course, Cohen usually wins and the blonde thing goes off for hours to hunt for mice or something equally not as cool as hanging out with Roger. "I mean, it's not that I care that he gave me back the jacket, but why would he just give it back like that?"

"You don't care so much and you've been obsessing over it," Cohen points out, lifting his head to look up at Roger. "Yeah, very convincing."

Roger smiles down at him and scratches behind his ear. "I know. He did look cute in it, huh?"

"He looked like a dog," Cohen corrects, but of course Roger can't hear him so it makes no difference. "All shaggy on the outside, but just a scrawny little scary-mouse under all his fake fur."

Roger goes back to staring at the ceiling for a few moments, and Cohen hopes that settles that. He doesn't want to hear more about the blonde, anyway. "Not that I think Mark is cute," Roger adds under his breath after a few moments.

"Yeah, right," Cohen answers, crawling up onto Roger's stomach to distract him from his thoughts. "That's why you spend half his time mooning over him. Why don't you guys just go in heat and get this obsession over with?" Since Roger can't understand the meowing, he just shakes his head and cuffs Cohen gently. "Don't swat at me," Cohen whines before trying to bat his hand away. Roger just chuckles at the effort, a low sound that rumbles through his chest and shakes Cohen up.

"I should talk to him," Roger says after a few beats of silence and he's gone back to petting Cohen.

Cohen is too content to do much more than purr, but he can't help but reply, "You should stop talking about him is what you should do."

"Make sure he's okay," Roger keeps mutters, totally oblivious to all the advice he's receiving. Cohen's too sleepy to argue with him and his human logic anymore. Yawning, he rolls off Roger's stomach and curls up in the mess of blankets next to him. "I don't want Mark upset with me. He gets weird when he's upset, all quiet and stuff."

"Mmm..." Cohen says one last time before drifting off, only half listening to Roger ramble on about his other pet.

After a few minutes, the bed beside him moves a little. Cohen opens one eye, watching Roger slide off the mattress and head out the door. Cohen yawns and curls back up in a tighter ball, still tired out from his exciting night of hunting. He'd let Roger wander away without him this once.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Cohen wakes up with a yawn, sniffing the covers were Roger had been. They still smell like him, of course, but slightly fainter now. He's been gone for a while. Hoping off the bed, Cohen shakes himself off and stretches a little. His stomach is growling a bit. He needs to find Roger and make him get him some food.

Prancing out of Roger's room, ready to be loved on, Cohen starts smelling out his human. Only there are a lot of weird scents clogging up the loft by now. He wrinkles his nose a bit as they all hit him, making him a little dizzy. What had the humans done while he had been asleep to make the loft smell like this many things?

"-just threw this huge rat, right in the guy's face." Cohen ears perk up. He ignores the smells and looks over to the couch where he could hear the deep, familiar rumble of Roger's laughter. He's lying across the couch like he usually does, eyes glowing almost like a cat's and face split with a huge grin. He's not alone, though. The blonde thing is curled into his side, shamelessly rubbing up against Roger for his attention. What the hell does the human think he's doing, snuggling up to Cohen's Roger like that? Roger is his, and why can't the blonde just accept that and go get a new owner? "And the cop," Blonde Thing is saying, smiling back at Roger. "He starts screaming like mad while she makes a dash for it."

Cohen growls a little when Roger chuckles and reaches over to scratch behind the blonde's ear. "And you got this all on film?" Roger asks the blonde, talking about things a cat can't understand. That stupid blonde is probably rubbing it in, reminding Roger that Cohen isn't the same species as him. Not that it matters to Roger, because him and Cohen are best friends despite that, but the blonde's tricky and Roger's so clearly obsessed with him that he'd probably listen to anything the human says.

The blonde nods a bit, closing his eyes and pressing closer to Roger's hand. Then Roger gives him that warm look that Cohen has seen a thousand times before. That's his look, for when Roger thinks he's doing something cute. Only now it's all for the blonde curled up at his side. Still smiling and looking down at the blonde with that special look that's supposed to be for only Cohen, Roger leans in and whispers something so softly not even Cohen can hear it from halfway across the loft. Whatever it is, it makes the human's skin turn an ugly shade of pink as he laughs and gives Roger a small shove. "You're high," he says, beaming back at Roger.

Roger smiles, lifting something to his lips and taking a deep breath. A few seconds later, a white cloud slips out between his lips. If Cohen where there he would jump up and try to catch it, even if he knew he can't. The blonde isn't as smart as him, so he just laughs and snuggles closer to Roger, probably pinning him back into the couch and making it so he can't escape even if he wants to.

"So are you," Roger shots back. Cohen cocks his head slightly, looking over the two tangled up together. He doesn't think either of them looks too high, but then humans have weird perceptions of things like how far up they were and how small mice and roaches are. Or maybe it's some kind of joke about how they aren't too far off the ground, because the blonde giggles and cuffs Roger's shoulder a bit. It's then that Cohen remembers how weird humans, even his Roger, really are.

Part of Cohen knows he can't be to Roger what the blonde is to him. Because they're both human, and they fit together that way and understand each other and the blonde can scratch behind Roger's ear when he wants to while all Cohen can do is lick at him. When Roger and Cohen talk, it's always "Mark" and "Mimi" and "Mark." When these two talk it's about them. Always about Mark without one mention of poor little Cohen.

Well, Cohen isn't going to give up Roger without a fight. He dashes over to the couch, pouncing up onto the two boys and digs his nails in when he lands on the blonde, past his fake skin and into his real flesh. Mark nearly jumps right out of Roger's arms, batting at Cohen who is only saved by Roger scooping him up. "Hey there, little guy," Roger coos, leaning back into the couch and holding Cohen over his chest.

"Don't little guy me!" Cohen growls back, narrowing his eyes at Roger's bright smile. "I saw you out here... fraternizing with him!" If Cohen could pout, he would. The best he can do is scratch at Roger's arms, but all this does is make the human laugh at him.

The blonde has his shirt bundled up under his armpits, rubbing at the small marks left on his stomach. "That thing is possessed," he mutters, shooting Cohen a dirty look. Cohen growls a little, reaching his claws out for Mark's nose. Roger laughs again, dropping Cohen to his chest and ruffling his fur.

"He just wants to play with you," Roger says, holding Cohen back from pouncing at Mark.

"I don't want to play with him," Cohen growls, struggling under Roger's large hand. "I want to play with his liver. See how he feels about stealing my best friend then."

"He doesn't want to play with me," Mark says, inching slightly away from Cohen and Roger. "He wants to eat me." For a human, the blonde is actually pretty clever. Too bad he isn't putting it to good use and getting the hell away from Cohen's territory.

Roger laughs, shaking Cohen slightly. "He's like this big," Roger points out, holding up his fingers and giving a very human perspective of Cohen's size. He's still a kitten, sure, but he's grown a lot since the other human that smells like fake flowers gave him away. He's certainly not that small. "He couldn't possibly eat you."

Before Cohen can leap out from under Roger's hand, two larger hands (softer than Roger's though, and much darker) are picking him up and away from the blonde's face. Looking down on the two humans, he sees the blonde turn a horrible shade of pink again. Like a hairless puppy. "Collins!" Mark squeaks, staring wide eyed up at Cohen. Past Cohen to the guy who is picking him up and tearing him away from his Roger.

"Collins," Roger says, sounding much less like a mouse than his other pet. "Thought you'd passed out in Mark's room."

Cohen tips his head back to see this Collins they are talking about. From what he can make out, he's a human with a grin just as bright as Roger's but something is wrong with him. A cat can sense these things, and Cohen can tell something is messing from Collins' smile. "I was," Collins says, tucking Cohen under one arm so that he's being forced to look down at Roger curling up with the blonde on the couch. "Then I heard what sounded suspiciously like two very high young men squealing about being eaten? I didn't want to miss the party."

Roger laughs, wrapping his arms around the blonde and pulling him back when the human tries to slip away. "That was Mark. I think the pot's made him paranoid."

The blonde swats at the hands holding him in place. Yeah, sure, like he's not enjoying being pressed up to Roger right in front of Cohen like that. "Is not," he protests, squirming a bit. "That cat really is a menace."

"Be nice," Roger mutters, but he's chuckling when he says it and smiling at the blonde like it doesn't matter that he just insulted Cohen. He holds up the small roll of paper he'd taken a breath up earlier, offering it to the human who still had his hands on Cohen. "Come on join us, if you want."

Cohen can feel more than hear the new human's laughter shake through him. Buried under one arm, he realizes a lot of the new and strange scents in the place had been coming from him. Cohen doesn't like it, even if he is curious as to why the human smells like dirt. He wants to be back with Roger. "Bus ride back from Brown wore me out, I'm afraid," he says, shifting Cohen's weight a bit. "I trust you two will be fine without me."

Both of the humans on the couch laugh and Collins turns to go back to Mark's bedroom, still with Cohen in his arms. Cohen meows and squirms and swats at the human, but Roger is totally oblivious and too wrapped up in his blonde to notice Cohen's being carted away. "You think just because you tear me away from him for a bit I'm not going to bite him the first chance I get," Cohen says, looking up at the dark human with no real fur to speak up, giving him what he hopes is a nasty look in human terms. "The thing is clearly way too quiet for my Roger. He needs me in there to protect him against blondie!"

Just like usual, though, Cohen's growls go utterly ignored. He's dropped rather unceremoniously on top of Mark's bed, bouncing a little as the human closes him in the small room. "Now then," Collins says, sitting beside him and petting him a bit. Not nearly as good at it as Roger, but Roger's too busy petting his stupid little blonde pet to be in here with Cohen. "You must be the kitten Mark is so jealous of."

"Like it's my fault Roger has taste," Cohen replies, laying down on and watching the door, waiting for Roger to come in and remember him like he should be doing any second now.

"Apparently Roger forgot your name," Collins says, breezing through the topics as if Cohen hadn't said anything at all. "What do you say we go with something like..."

Cohen starts to give a snarky reply, but Collins has gone still and Cohen can feel the room turn dark. He cocks his head, looking up at the large human sitting next to him. That something that had been missing from his smile is filling the air now. Before Cohen can even meow to ask what's wrong, Collins shakes his head and moves past it. "How about Marx? You seem like you're misunderstood."

Ruffling himself up a little, Cohen fought to move past the weird air that had settled over them in that passing second. "Cohen Marx? And here I thought my day couldn't get any worse."

"Well, Marx the cat," Collins says, leaning back into bed with Cohen still beside him. "What do you say we give the boys some alone time tonight?"

"Alone time my tail," Cohen snaps back, still staring towards the door even as it becomes more obvious Roger isn't coming to rescue him. "If we leave them alone too long there will be kittens by next morning."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"They look like ying and yang," Collins says, whispering to make sure he doesn't wake the two boys just yet. "Whole and separate."

In his hands, Marx squirms and meows, desperately trying to free itself. This is one thing Collins has to side with Roger on. The kitten is cute, and rather feisty. Collins gets the feeling it didn't enjoy being locked away in Mark's small room all night, but he had wanted to give the two boys some time alone. Maybe let them figure out a few things that were obvious to everyone else in the world. "I thought love was supposed to make you blind," Collins chuckles, leaning over to let the little thing run off. The seconds it's out of his hands it's darting for the couch. "Not dense as all hell."

Maybe the outside perspective let him see what Mark is just now catching on to thinks to one little kitten. If only Angel were here, she would know just what to do to help nudge the boys in the right direction. Damn, his girl always knew exactly what to say in these situations. Still leaning down after releasing Marx, he watches the kitten scamper over Roger, batting at the spikes of his hair. He can almost feel Angel standing right behind him now, hand on his shoulder as that gentle, calming influence his baby always had washed through him.

"Like a little family," he would have coed, helping pick Collins back up. "Daddy, daddy, and their little albino, attention loving soon. What a perfect little mix."

Collins chuckles even as that warm feeling disappears, and that imaginary weight that had settled over his shoulder vanishes again. He puts on a smile, padding over to the couch to see if he can at least give the boys a decent push. From the way Mark is cuddling up to Roger in sleep, Collins would say he doesn't have too hard of a job cut out for him. It will be good for Roger to finally have someone who can actually handle his mood swings, and good for Mark to be with someone who doesn't leave him pinning for just a little bit of honesty and attention. They'll be good for each other, and that's something everyone desperately needs.

With a slightly louder laugh, he holds up his finger to tell Marx to be quiet and stop scratching at Roger's arm. He really wants to enjoy their expressions when they wake up like this. Clearing his throat, Collins leans back and crosses his hands over his chest and just watches them until he's sure they're both deep in sleep. "Wake up time, boys!"

Roger groans, grabbing hold of Mark and snuggling up against his chest. An earthquake couldn't get that boy out of bed before noon. Mark is a lot easier. His eyes are open the second Collins' booming voice fills the room, expression going from comfort (honesty, Collins thinks) to surprise (shocked with himself for letting it happen) to humiliation (doesn't know how he's going to explain this one away) in a split second after waking. Collins doesn't give him too much time to worry about it. He grabs hold of Mark's collar and hauls him up off the couch.

"You and me," He announces, giving Mark a warm smile as the boy struggles to get a hold of himself. "We're going shopping. You boys don't even have a full bottle of beer in this place." He gives Mark a look to go with the friendly smile, just so he knows this little outing is about far more than keeping them feed and drunk.

Totally oblivious, Roger rolls around a bit before snuggling back into the couch. "Something with meat for Cohen," he mutters, smiling as Marx jumps up on the couch to curl up in what had been Mark's spot next to Roger.

"You know I don't eat meat," Mark points out, trying to get his cheeks to stop burning as he scrambles up to his feet. Collins can't help but slap him playfully in the ass, causing Mark to yelp again. He laughs and motions the stumbling filmmaker towards the door. Oh, he's definitely got it for Roger.

"I have money I want to spend on you two," he says, pulling on his coat before grabbing Mark again and dragging him towards the door. "I suggest you bask in that while you can." Mark nods and follows along, out of breath before they even start down the stairs. Collins is nice enough to let Mark gather his own thoughts before he chimes in with anything. Mark is a smart kid, and even without any interference he'd probably figure things out on his own. Collins had a visiting professors job down at Georgia Teach next week (they had no idea what they were in for) and wants to see the two boys at least somewhat happy before he leaves them.

They drop into a corner store, remaining mostly silent as Collins grabs a few things, always with one eye on Mark. Ah, he can't keep it in anymore, and Mark doesn't look like he's getting too far on his own. "How long?"

Mark looks mildly suspicious, but otherwise clueless. "How long what?" He asks, hoisting the full bag of food and drinks into his arms.

"Have you and Roger..." Collins trails off, shooting Mark a look and counting on the way the boy's face turns a hundred shades of red and pink.

The blush from earlier comes back full force. "Oh, we're not..." Collins tries to bite back a wide smile as Mark tries to stutter through an explanation. It's damn hard not to laugh when Mark is being so obvious, though.

He manages to keep back the grin, raising an eyebrow and asking, "You aren't?" Mark shakes his head with maybe a little more force than he needs to, covering it with a nervous laugh.

"Come on, Collins, you know me. I'm still making doe eyes at Maureen," Mark jokes. Hard to argue with that. Mark still is hung up on Maureen, which is half of his problem. But then Roger is still in love with Mimi, still in love with April and every other girl he's ever written a song for. Of course, neither of the boys seem to see how lucky they were to have that many people to connect with. Another easy observation to make for the man who had fallen in love once, and then lost her while Mark, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, well, they all have more love than they can seem to hold onto.

"And Roger," Mark presses on with the verbal denial. "He's so obsessed with Mimi's cat, it's almost frightening. You'd think the little thing was her."

Without missing a beat, Collins adds, "It's too bad he can't stop staring at you then, huh?" He laughs at Mark's express, not saying another word on the subject. With all those clues, even his students could have found a solution by now.