Title: Of All Things
Notes: Written for speedrent challenge #247. For me, this challenge called for something light and Mark/Roger. Not my best work, but we'll live.
Disclaimer: I own Rent. And if you believe that I've got a café in the East Village to sell ya.
"I still can't believe I got you here." Mark smiled, "Central Park. A picnic of all things. You."
Roger nodded unenthusiastically. He wasn't enjoying this. It was his birthday. A beautiful spring day. Should one be sitting in a loft pretending to write music while actually playing Musetta's Waltz repeatedly and taking cigarette breaks every hour on the hour on a day like this?
"Yeah. So. This is a picnic, where's the food?" Roger wanted to go home. Now.
"In the basket." Mark opened the basket and started pulling out various snacks and sandwiches.
Roger was astonished. "Mark, you made these? And where the hell did you get a picnic basket?"
Mark looked to the red checkered pattern of the picnic blanket, "Maureen."
"Did she make this, too?" Roger pointed to the tuna sandwich he had taken a bite out of.
"That depends. Do you like it?"
"No. It tastes like cat food."
"Maureen made it." Mark pulled a bottle of Stoli and two red, plastic cups out of the basket.
"Stoli!" Roger smiled, "This is the best fucking picnic I've ever been to!"
"Yeah. I know", Mark blushed, "It seems ridiculous, but…"
"Ridiculous? It's fucking awesome. Ridiculous would be if this was a juice box and Benny was here. Or worse. Your mother." Roger laid himself down on the blanket, still eating the sandwich he had claimed to hate.
"So…" Roger batted his eyelashes, giving Mark a look that screamed, "I'm being cute. Give me my present."
"I'm being cute. Give me my present."
"Roger. You have to have cake before presents. It's the rule."
Roger groaned. "Okay. It's not carrot cake again, is it?"
"Can you stop mentioning that? How was I supposed to know that you were allergic?"
"
Did Maureen make this too?" Roger pointed to the moist chocolate cake sitting in the Tupperware cake stand.
"No. The Food Emporium did. Wait, don't eat it yet! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, Roggy Sparkle! Happy Birthday to you!" Mark crooned.
Roger frowned. "You need to stop calling me that. I know Maureen tells you to, and you do whatever she says, but…"
"I don't do everything she says. She wanted me to get a mariachi band to sing for you, and she wanted to come out of the top of the cake, but that's where I put my scarf down."
Roger shook his head, stuffing his face with cake. He was incredibly creeped out.
"Oh, and my mother sent you a present. She also sent a letter. Apparently, she thinks you're this big local rock star with this huge fan following. Isn't that funny?" Mark was obviously trying to avoid something.
"I'm a woulda, coulda, shoulda. A one hit wonder Your mother's ridiculous. Now what'd she get me?"
Mark closed his eyes as he gave Roger the small bundle of wrapping paper, which he unwrapped.
"Oh. Um. Latkes. In plastic wrap. How very…er…thoughtful." Roger wrinkled his nose.
"I'm so sorry, Rog. I shouldn't have even let you open it."
"It's okay. It's not like we have to eat them. Maybe I should send her a Jewish cookbook for her birthday, so she can finally learn to cook."
"I'm sorry, Roger. I know how to make them. I'll get some stuff and make them later…"
"Is that my present?"
"No." Mark grinned mischievously. "I'll give that to you when we get home. Come on, let's go!"
"Now? But I'm still eating my cake!" Roger whined, frosting spread around his lips like lip liner.
"Yes, now. Come on!" Mark stood up and grabbed Roger's hand and dragged him back to the loft. Roger now couldn't wait to open his "present".
THE END
