Disclaimer: I do not own RENT. Though I am going to see it today.

Here's one for all you Mark/Roger fans... did you truly think I could write a story without it?

Mark sat on the couch, numb, struggling to think. He turned the test over in his hands, vaguely aware of the fact that he was touching urine. Given the circumstances, Mark was not worried. Not about touching pee, at least.

Pregnant. And there was only one person it could be. Mimi is pregnant.

No, no, it didn't have to be Mimi. Mark shook his head. What was he thinking? Just last night they had the whole gang over. It could be… Mark groaned. Maureen or Joanne? But then, why would they use the loft to take a pregnancy test? Unless… unless one was pregnant and the other didn't know it.

But how was Mark supposed to find out? One does not exactly ask a woman, "Are you pregnant?" At least, not unless one wants to be smacked across the face.

Maureen. It had to be Maureen. She was the slut! Of course she had gotten herself stuffed…

Unless, Mark realized, Joanne had had enough. It might also have been Joanne's baby. Perhaps Joanne cheated, and she would have more trouble admitting it.

But Joanne could us protection. Any of them would. Enough of their friends were HIV-positive to ensure that they knew the dangers of unprotected sex.

"Mark?" Mark looked up. Roger stood in the doorway, holding bags of groceries and looking worried. "What… what's that?"

Two days later, Mark told tell his therapist: "I didn't want to tell Roger. It might not have been his and it was obviously a secret."

"So what did you tell him?" his therapist asked.

Mark groaned. It was not one of his cleverer responses. "I told him it was his Christmas present and hid it behind my back."

And the first thought in Mark's head was: Shit! What can I buy for Roger for Christmas, that looks like a pregnancy test?

Roger set down the groceries and closed the door. He shook his head and laughed in a very unamused manner. "You never could lie to me, Mark," he said.

Mark blushed. He had no poker face, and he knew it. "I-it's nothing, Rog." Why bother? Mark asked himself. Get him mad at Mimi, why the hell not?

Roger walked with surprising calm across the loft. He paused in front of Mark, hand outstretched. "Give it to me." Roger had no clue as to what Mark was hiding. All he knew was that Mark was hiding it, and Mark was hiding it from him, which meant it concerned him. And it was not a Christmas present.

"You wanted Roger angry with his girlfriend?" the therapist asked.

Mark nodded. "I'm not proud of it," he said, and chuckled nervously. "But yes."

"Have you ever considered moving out?"

"Oh, G-d, no. I love it in the loft. I'm settled, the rent… we manage the rent, and besides, I could never leave Roger."

"How long have you been in love with him?"

Mark blushed. Two years ago, Roger met Mimi. One year before that, he and April enjoyed their first Christmas as a couple. Seven months before that, Mark graduated from Brown, turned his back on his degree, and moved into the city with Benny. "Three years, seven months."

It was a game to Roger as Mark shifted away from him on the couch, hiding the test the same way Roger once hid Mimi's stash. What-- Oh, no. No, Roger could not believe that. Not drugs, not his Mark. Roger struggled to keep the desperation out of his actions as he knelt beside Mark. "Give it," he repeated, forcing a smile and a playful tone.

Mark shook his head. Roger leaned in and poked his fingertips gently into the soft flesh of Mark's belly. "Last warning."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Roger-- aah!" Mark collapsed into giggles as Roger tickled him. "Stop-- Roger-- stop it-- I can't breathe!"

"Give it to me, then."

Mark's cheeks flushed a bright pink. He was having difficulty breathing, laughing so hard as he attempted to squirm away, fell over and rolled onto his back. Roger knelt over him, saying, "Give it up, Mark. Come on, give it… give it to me…" Mark had no intention of doing any such thing. That would make Roger stop touching him, and as Roger pushed up Mark's sweater Mark felt a surge of heat. Roger fingers ghosted across his abdomen, and Mark squirmed and bucked and couldn't help but think of the other ways in which Roger could elicit the same responses.

Black and purple spots began to dance before Mark's eyes.

"Rog-- Roger-- please-- mercy, Roger, I'm gonna…"

Roger paused. "Gonna what?" he asked.

"Pass out," Mark gasped.

And Roger's demeanor changed entirely. His playful attitude fell away as he pulled Mark up and rubbed his back. "Okay?" Roger asked. He pushed the heel of his hand into Mark's back, easing the tension he had not known existed.

Mark fixed his glasses before nodding. "I'm better," he said breathlessly.

"Good. You know I would never hurt you, Mark," Roger said.

Mark raised his eyes and he saw in Roger's face that this was more than an affirmation. Roger needed to hear that Mark knew that, and Mark did. "I know," he said. "It's okay, Roger. We were just playing."

Roger nodded. "Yeah," he said. His hand moved towards Mark's lap and Mark felt his pulse race, excited by the thought of Roger's hand there, but Roger only plucked the test from Mark's hand. "I win," he quipped, returning to the topic of play.

"Do you think your affections for Roger may be at the root of your problems?"

"Roger… no. Well, maybe, but not only." Mark cleared his throat. "It… it isn't that I don't like Mimi as a person. Actually I've… been to the club, the Cat Scratch, and… she's a very attractive woman."

"Are you attracted to her?"

Mark cleared his throat again. "Um… I… I am, but… Look, I'm not a slut. Okay? I don't sleep around. I've been with, um, I've been with three. That's it, three. I was with Maureen, in high school I was with Nanette, um, for a little while, not long and she didn't… she didn't… she didn't, um, pop my cherry or anything. Do boys say that, popping the cherry?"

"I think it can be applied to either. You could semantically argue that it refers to an orgasm."

"Uh… then I popped my own cherry," Mark said. He laughed, nervous. "Anyway, the thing about… about Roger? It's not just Roger. The 'root of my problems'. It's a lot of things. Stress. I'm not bringing in a lot of money right now and I don't like leaning on Roger and Mimi so much. Especially Mimi, she's really… she's practically still a kid. And I love them, you know, platonically and… and otherwise. Um, and Collins… he's… Of all of us, Collins has the lowest T-cell count. You'd think Mimi, but she bounced right back. It's… it's hard for them."

"Of course. But for you…"

"It's worse. Is that awful, saying it's worse for me? I mean, they're dying, and, and I… You know what? One time, during Roger's depression, my mom called me and she told me that my dog had died. Silly, right? I mean my roommate, my best friend, my… Roger, is dying, and I can't sleep because I'm crying about my puppy. And Roger was just there. He came in and he… he sat down on the bed and held me in his lap, as much of me as he could, and he sang."

"He sang to you?"

"Mmm. And all I remember of the song is, 'And those of us who must remain, go on living just the same.' Like Roger was telling me something."

Roger stared at the test. He stared for a long time, unmoving, just watching the little line as though he could make it disappear.

Mark sat beside him, feeling guilty despite having done nothing wrong, save finding the pregnancy test in the trash can.

After a long moment, Roger turned to him, cleared his throat gently and asked, "So, uh… you… got me this for Christmas?" Mark shook his head. "You… 're pregnant?" Roger asked.

"I don't know if it's hers," Mark whispered. "It… it could be… Maureen or Joanne…"

Roger bolted off the couch. He wheeled on Mark. "Were Maureen and Joanne here while I was out?" he demanded. "I took out the trash last night so either they were here or… or…"

"It's Mimi's," Mark finished for him.

To be continued!

Thanks to all of you guys who reviewed, I love hearing from you!