…I'm sorry. I can really offer no explanation that's good enough to explain ten months without an update…Jesus, that's almost a full year! I really am sorry. I really think its about time this fic was finished, so that's going to be my goal for the remainder of this year.
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT or any of the characters therein. I do own my OCs and a giant jug of (fake) blood.
Much thanks to my lovely beta: Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy Shadeslayer
Discovered
Mark winced slightly as he sat up. Where the fuck am I? He looked around as he rubbed the crick in his neck. He was in a bathroom; in the tub, specifically. His back and ass felt wet, and he realized the tub must've had water in it when he'd lain down. Getting up, he was hit with waves of dizziness as the room spun, but he fought through it.
Walking out the door, he discovered that he was at Reye and Marshall's house. Marshall was on the couch, eating cereal and reading the newspaper and Reye was no where to be found.
"Hey there, sleepyhead. How you feeling?" he asked.
Mark frowned. "Okay, aside from a slight hangover...Is there a reason I was in the bathtub?"
Marshall laughed. "Beats me. Reye and you tumbled in at about four. You quickly passed out on the couch, and that's where I left you. Then this morning I found you in the tub...thought it'd be better if I let you sleep it off before moving you."
Mark shook his head, chuckling at himself. "Well, thanks for your consideration." he teased, leaning down to kiss Marshall. He was surprised to find a hand on his shoulder, keeping him back.
"You puked." Marshall explained.
Mark turned red. "Oh...sorry..."
"There's an extra toothbrush under the bathroom sink." Marshall shrugged, going back to his cereal.
Mark nodded, slightly embarrassed, and went back to the bathroom. Under the sink was a handful of cheap, colored toothbrushes, as well as extra towels (appearing to be stolen hotel towels), and single servings of toiletries. He picked a blue toothbrush and brushed his teeth twice.
As he was spitting into the sink, the door opened.
"Here, I brought you some clothes. Figured you'd want to take a shower." Marshall smiled at him, handing him a bundle of clothes and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks, Marsh. I'll be out in a bit." He'd never stayed the night at their apartment before, always going home to sleep. Then again, he didn't even remember the walk from Canvas' to there, so he was rather glad he had crashed there rather than attempt to find his way back to the loft.
Mark took a quick shower and dressed. Marshall had given him a pair of faded jeans that hung off Mark's hips and a slightly baggy green tee with Spanish writing on it. He'd also thankfully loaned him a clean pair of boxers and socks. Before he walked out, he rinsed his mouth again with some off brand mouth wash.
Walking out to the living room, he found Marshall still on the couch, reading the Village Voice. Leaning down, he kissed him.
"Better?" he teased softly.
Marshall grinned. "Minty fresh, Babes."
Mark collapsed down on the couch next to Marshall, leaning into him. "I feel kinda guilty." he murmured.
Marshall slid his fingers through Mark's hair, stroking absently. "For what, Babes?"
"I was supposed to help Roger and his band last night…instead I let Reye talk me into going to Canvas'. I mean…I know he deserves it, and worse, from me…I really shouldn't care but…"
"He's a bastard who deserves nothing from you…but you still feel guilty?" Marshall asked, slightly confused.
Mark crinkled his nose. Marshall wasn't a huge fan of Roger, which was understandable but it still bothered Mark on some level because Marshall didn't actually know Roger.
"Well…yeah. I just…he told me he needed me…" he paused. "Well, he almost told me he needed me which, in Roger-lingo, means he actually meant it…I'm not used to letting people down." He paused, shrugging as he snuggled closer to Marshall. "It'd be different if something had happened and I couldn't go…but fuck, I could've. I just didn't want to after I…shot up."
Marshall chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mark's brow. "Well, that explains it. You should've known better than that, Babes. Heroin makes you a 100% hedonist. If you don't really want to do something, you're not about to do it while high…but like I said, doesn't matter. You shouldn't have to bend over backwards to do him any favors anyways." He kissed him again. "So cheer up, buttercup."
Sliding one hand around Mark's neck and the other on his hip, he pulled him down onto his lap and kissed him soundly.
The kiss became heated, one of Marshall's hands buried in Mark's damp hair while the other slid up his back, working his shirt off. Mark moaned, sliding his mouth down Marshall's neck. He arched his back, sliding closer as Marshall's hand found its way down the back of Mark's loose jeans, slipping down to cup his ass.
Huh…wonder if that's why he gave me jeans too big…
Marshall's other hand was just beginning to move towards Mark's fly when they were interrupted.
"Hijole! Are you guys serious?"
Startled, they both turned to see an annoyed and recently roused Reye standing at the edge of the room.
"Problem, Reye?" Marshall asked, reluctantly pulling his hands to his side and leaning back.
"Hell yeah, there's a problem, Marsh. Ya know, you do have a room!" she snapped.
"So do you, actually…why don't you go back there and come out in say…half an hour?" Marshall teased.
Reye didn't look amused. "You. Are such. A slut! What the hell is the appeal of the living room anyways?"
Mark frowned, unused to seeing Reye angry. "Aren't you the one who always wants us to be together and hassles me for details? Well…here's your details." he laughed.
She rolled her eyes, sliding her hand through her messy curls. "Come on guys, I'm not picky…I think its great you're finally getting to pop the weasel, but are Argentineans so into themselves that they think everyone wants to watch?"
"Excuse me, pop the weasel?" Mark asked with a laugh.
They ignored him for the moment. "Okay, Reye, lay off my heritage for a bit. I don't constantly make Mexican jokes. Secondly, how many times have I found you, half naked with someone?"
Reye shrugged, twirling her fingers in her curls. "A couple…" Pause. "Okay, okay, a few more than that. Fine, whatever…but ya know, you have a nice comfy bed in your room… but ya know, do whatever you want, like always." With that she huffed off into the kitchen.
Marshall chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on Mark's collarbone. "She's being a brat…but she does have a point. Care to move to my room?"
Mark smiled, attempting to will the blush from his cheeks and failing, he settled for nodding. Marshall took his hand, leading him to the burgundy door.
Mark had never actually seen the photographer's room before. In all the times Mark had been over there, he'd usually stayed in the living room or kitchen, sometimes venturing to Reye's room.
He looked around Marshall's room in interest. A dozen plastic milk crates were stacked sideways and tied together with twine, serving as shelves for many thick portfolios and a handful of vinyl records. A bookshelf was on the opposite side, solid green in color, and its four shelves were filled with books of various thicknesses. A makeshift easel was set up near the large window, a box of paints and brushes beside it and a just started painting (of what appeared to be a person) was pinned up. A tall, solid black dresser sat beside his bed, the top containing a bunch of random knickknacks. The walls only held a few fliers, photographs and posters. Unlike Reye, Marshall actually had a bed frame and headboard. His bed had green and burgundy sheets and blankets. A clothesline was hung across a corner of the room, a few finished photographs pinned to it. The only clutter in his room was a small pile of dirty clothes in the corner; otherwise it was clean. The one object that surprised him was a small, old television sitting on a small table.
Then his eyes were drawn to a heavy black curtain covering a doorway.
"Is that your darkroom?" he asked as Marshall kissed a path down the back of his neck.
"Mhm." the photographer murmured against his nape. "I had a massive closet, so I just converted it. I'll show you…later." Sliding his hands up his torso, he spun Mark around and gently pushed him down onto the bed.
"Hmmm, yeah. Later is good." Mark muttered, reaching out to slip off Marshall's shirt.
Marshall laid him out beneath him, working a trail of licks, bites and kisses down his chest. Mark moaned, hand twisting in Marshall's hair as his tongue flicked into Mark's navel. Sucking the skin just below his navel, the photographer deftly opened his jeans and slid them down over Mark's hips.
"Marshall? Oh God…" he moaned as Marshall stroked him through his boxers before sliding them down as well.
"Shh, Babes. Don't worry about a thing, just lay back and let me take care of you." Marshall murmured, leisurely pumping Mark's already hard member.
"Mmm, fuck, Marsh…do you have con-oh fuck!" Mark moaned, squirming in pleasure as he was enveloped by a hot, moist cavern.
Marshall smirked around him, thoroughly enjoying the sweet sounds escaping from Mark's throat as took him in deeper.
LINELINELINELINELINE
"Are you serious?" Reye asked, attempting to hide her laughter.
Mark turned even more red. "Yes…I mean, I just want some advice. Cause let's just say while he impressed me earlier, I'm a bit embarrassed by my attempt…"
She giggled. "Sweettooth, the walls here are just a touch thin…and I'm pretty sure he thinks you did just fine."
She wasn't sure it was possible, but Mark blushed even more. "Shut it, Miss Reye… but please, just tell me how to do it? Because that was my first time doing…that. And I couldn't exactly do everything he could…or go as far…"
She laughed, but then patted his arm reassuringly. "Okay, first of all, its going to get easier with practice. Secondly, the depth thing…its really about relaxation. It takes a bit, but you gotta practice relaxing your throat muscles and then be able to swallow him…oh, fuck…um, Hi Marshall!"
Mark whipped around so quickly his neck spasmed. Marshall stood just inside the apartment door, eyebrows raised. "Am I interrupting something?" he teased.
Mark winced. "How long were you standing there, Marsh?"
Marshall laughed, coming over and kissing Mark gently. "Not long. I came in right at, 'able to swallow him'… I think I'll just assume you're talking about a man-eating whale and leave it at that." he teased.
"Yeah, Moby Dick!" Reye laughed, letting herself fall as Mark shoved her playfully.
"Cochina!" Marshall chastised. "Anyways, Alex had a new shipment in. Supposed to be real primo shit. You guys down?"
"Definitely." Reye grinned.
"Sorry, guys, I have to work tonight." Mark sighed.
"So? There's the phone. Call off." Reye said. Marshall swatted her in disapproval.
"I probably shouldn't…" Mark started, but he was already figuring how many sick days he'd used.
"Just cough a lot. They won't fire you if they think you're actually sick. They can't."
Mark grinned. "Fine, I can afford another sick day."
He called into work and played up a hoarse throat just a bit. Dennis sounded less than pleased, but accepted it.
They shot up, Marshall being careful that they each took less than they normally did.
'it's a stronger batch than normal…let's just go light, this first time.'
They laid around, playing cards and just chatting for a while. Mark was just about ready to go home when Reye came back from answering the phone.
"Tank just called. They're partying over at his house and he was wondering where we were at. I'm gonna go. You guys coming?"
Marshall looked at him in question and Mark smiled, looking up at him through his lashes. "You want to? Por favor, Marsh?"
Marshall laughed. "Si! Vamos."
LINELINELINELINELINE
Mark climbed the last few stairs to the loft, weaving slightly. He was still high from shooting up at the party, and the alcohol he'd drank wasn't helping matters. But it was late, so he was hoping against a confrontation with Roger.
He fumbled with the key for a few minutes, giggling slightly to himself as he dropped it for the third time. Maybe I'm a bit more drunk than I thought…okay, Marky, think sobering thoughts… He finally got the door open and practically walked into a certain musician.
Mark pulled back, laughing, distantly noting that Roger did not look happy. "Oops. Hi, Rog." He wandered past, attempting to go to his room but Roger had other ideas.
"Is that seriously all you have to say to me?" Roger demanded angrily, following him.
Mark stopped, turning to look at him in confusion. "Good night?" he tried.
"How about, 'sorry', you asshole? Jesus Christ, Mark, its four in the fucking morning and you didn't even come home last night!" he shouted, pushing into Mark's face. "And it was fucking brilliant how you just left me hanging at the gig. Our system shorted out and we had to stop the performance. So yeah, a fucking 'sorry' would be real great, bastard!"
Mark rolled his eyes, attempting to back away. "Yeah, sure. I'm sorry, I guess. Now mind if I go to bed?"
"Yes, I fucking mind! What the hell has been up with you, lately? Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, following Mark.
Mark stared at him, irritated. "Where the hell have you been, Roger?"
"How the fuck does that make any goddamn-"
"And since when have you cared where I go?" he snapped, interrupting him.
Roger turned red. "You son of a bitch. What the fuck is your problem?" he stepped closer. "You really…" he stopped, leaning into Mark's face and then looking him up and down.
"Problem?" Mark asked, snorting a little.
Roger continued to stare for another moment. Suddenly, Roger's eyes went wide and a look of complete shock went over his face. "Mark…are you fucking high?" he demanded, his voice still slightly disbelieving.
Mark laughed harshly. "Wow, you're a bright one."
Suddenly Roger seized Mark's arm and shoved the sleeve up. Roger was silent for a moment, starring down at the exposed track marks. Mark wrenched his arm away, and watched the color drain from Roger's face in amusement.
"What the fuck, Mark?" he breathed, before suddenly he exploded. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" his voice raised to booming shout. "Heroin, Mark? Really, you're fucking doing heroin? After me, after Mimi, April…how could you…How long? How long have you been doing fucking heroin?"
Mark looked at him and smirked. "For fucking months." He taunted.
Roger saw red. Grabbing Mark's shoulders, he shoved him into the wall. "What the hell is wrong with you, you dumb fuck?" he screamed.
Mark pushed right back against him. "You! Right now, you're what's wrong with me! Get the fuck out of my face." he turned back towards the door.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Roger walked after him.
"None of your goddamn business." Mark growled, going for the door.
"Get back here! We're not done!" He snarled, grabbing Mark's arm.
Mark snapped, whipping around he shoved Roger and the surprised musician fell. "Now you fucking care? After months of treating me like shit, now you're gonna start caring?" he shouted, standing over him.
"Well, too goddamn late, Roger. I really don't give a shit what you think, and what I do is none of your fucking business. So stay the fuck out of my life!" With that he stalked out, slamming the loft door.
LINELINELINELINELINELINE
Wow…so I finally got that out, know you guys were waiting for this event for some time. Anyways, upcoming in the next chapter: Mark and Marshall get closer, and a return of Maureen and Joanne (my beta asked me where they disappeared off to, which got me wondering as well lol). Anyways, once again, I am so very sorry for the insane wait. Am working on chapter 35 right now, so I should have it out soon, provided there's not more family drama (my sister in law is having pregnancy issues, my brother is bouncing between work, school, and the hospital, so I'm playing soccer mom).
Let me know what you think, please!
