The springs in Roger's bed are old and rusting.
Not that Mark is terribly surprised at this but he'd be willing to buy a new mattress for his friend if it meant that he wouldn't be able to hear the noises that Roger and Mimi make when they're fucking anymore. Every time Mimi steps into their apartment he hopes they'll go downstairs to her place instead of staying here, but they never do. He hates waking up in the middle of the night, and he hates getting hard at the noises Roger makes, and he hates the thoughts of Roger fucking him like that, and he hates that it's so insistent that he has to stroke himself, keeping quiet, terrified that Roger will hear him even though there's no way he ever could, not over his own shouting and Mimi's moaning and screaming and swearing.
Sometimes, though, the moaning and the squeaking and groaning of bedsprings subsides, and it's just screaming and swearing, and Mark worries about both of them then. When they fight like this, Mark won't see either of them for days: Roger will stay in his room and Mimi ... he doesn't know where Mimi goes. Then they'll be back together just as suddenly as they weren't together, and the smiles will gradually return to their faces, and then they'll be bugging him to leave his camera and come to CBGB's with them, or to go to Central Park with them, or to go get dinner with them, and of course he goes, because he's glad to see them happy again, for however long it will last this time.
They fought last night. He heard Mimi running to the door and slamming it shut behind her. He heard her sobbing, again, and he wanted to go tell her it would be okay, but she probably just needed to be alone. He wanted to go ask Roger what happened this time, but he had a feeling it was the same as always. Roger loves Mimi, and he can't stand to watch her destroying herself, and Mark remembers how that feels. So he stayed in his room, and hoped they fixed things sometime soon.
Mark is surprised when the door to the loft opens and Roger comes in grinning, because he hadn't even known Roger had left. He watches his friend shuffle over and fall next to him on the couch, the old wood frame protesting under the sudden weight. "Hey," Roger says, still smiling, and Mark realizes now that Roger is pretty drunk.
"Hey," he replies. "Where's Mimi?"
Roger's smile falters for a moment. "I don't know. Her place, I guess. I hope." He lights a cigarette and lets his head fall back against the couch. "You heard us last night?"
Mark doesn't tell him that he hears them all the time, when they're fighting or when they're fucking, and there's no way he can avoid hearing them. He just nods, and the smile is really gone from Roger's face now. "Shit. Sorry," Roger says. "I know I'm not helping her by fighting with her all the time. Shit," he mutters again. He looks over at Mark, and asks, "Do we have anything to drink?" Mark shakes his head, and Roger shrugs. "Oh well. Sorry about ... you know." They're silent after that, until Mark hears Roger's breathing become heavier and realizes that he's fallen asleep.
"Hey," he whispers, shaking Roger gently, "You should go to bed."
"Hm? Oh." Roger doesn't move for a few moments, and then asks, "Could you help me to my room? I'm, uh, a little ... drunk." Mark snickers, but he helps Roger up anyway, and Roger really is very drunk. He staggers when Mark pulls him to his feet, and it takes him a minute to wrap his arm around Mark's shoulders. Mark puts his arm around Roger's waist and helps him to his room, wincing as he lets Roger go too early. The bedsprings groan as Roger drops onto his bed, and he starts undressing while he's still lying on his back. Mark blushes as Roger unbuttons his jeans, and he turns to go.
"Wait," Roger calls. "Could you stay?" he asks, somehow managing to pull his shirt over head, tossing it on the floor. "Sorry, I mean, I just -"
"Yeah, Roger. I'll stay." And the smile is back on Roger's face, that stupid childish face-splitting grin that makes Mark just have to grin back. He gets in bed next to Roger, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't realize Roger is staring at him until he glances over and sees that his friend is still awake. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just not really tired anymore, I guess." Then Mark feels arms around him and he's being pulled over toward Roger, who's mumbling, "You don't mind, do you? I mean, I am tired, kind of, but it's just hard to sleep without -"
"It's okay. I don't mind." They've done this before, when it gets too cold for either of them to stand it, when Roger was detoxing and shivering and needed someone to hold onto. Roger just didn't have an erection those times, pressing into Mark's back like this, and now Mark is hard, too. Really, it's no surprise when Roger's hand inches down toward the waist of Mark's jeans, pulling the button open and pushing the zipper down and thumbing the head of his cock, but he gasps and shivers anyway, his hips arching toward Roger's hand. He feels Roger's lips on the back of his neck, warm and rough like his fingers, and it's getting harder for him to remember why this isn't such a great idea. Words like 'friendship' and 'Mimi' flirt through his head, but then Roger's grinning at him and shoving him onto his back and pushing his jeans all the way down his hips and Mark just can't stop shaking while Roger fumbles in his drawer for condoms. This is stupid, this is so stupid and he can't believe he's letting this happen but then he feels Roger slipping a condom over his cock and he just swallows him down and those thoughts just evaporate, along with every thought of keeping his hips still and not pushing his fingernails into Roger's scalp and not moaning and swearing so loudly.
He tries, again, to protest, but when he feels Roger's fingers inside him he has to concentrate on not coming right there. Shit. Shit. "Roger," he says, but all he hears is a long moan, his voice cracking and scratchy. Shit. Shit.
"You okay?" Roger asks, and Mark tries to say "yes." He'd never believe one syllable would be so difficult to say clearly, but it is, and all he can do is nod and whimper a little, embarrassed and kind of awkward. "Do you want me to -"
"Yes," Mark interrupts, and maybe it wasn't so hard to say after all. Roger grins again, unzipping his jeans slowly, teasing, pushing Mark away when he tries to pull them off himself. Roger's laughing now, but Mark is having trouble finding the humor in the situation.
"Relax," Roger tells him, "Laugh a little." Mark still can't form an intelligent response, so he just swears and growls a little, watching Roger put some lube on his cock. He shuts up when Roger pulls him up onto his knees and turns him around.
It hurts. Not even in a good way, not yet, and Roger's drunk so his rhythm is sloppy and he's a little bit too rough, but Mark grits his teeth and digs his nails into the wooden headboard, and soon enough it feels good, and then he hears the springs start screeching with every move they make and his head starts pounding and he's shouting himself hoarse moments later, Roger's hand on his cock, grunting and moaning behind him.
He can hear Roger's harsh, heavy breathing stop, and then he shudders and pushes harder into Mark, crying out again, wrapping his arms around Mark's waist and pulling him closer, almost squeezing the breath out of him as he comes. Roger pulls out, and they both fall down on the bed, and when Roger starts stroking Mark's cock again, his lips against Mark's neck and chest, his rhythm is just as sloppy, but Mark gets off a few moments later anyway, crying out again and pushing up into Roger's hand, gripping his friend closer.
When he can finally open his eyes and look over at Roger, grinning like an idiot, Roger is asleep, and his smile disappears, and he remembers just what is going on. He remembers that Roger and Mimi will probably have fixed things by tomorrow, and that he and Roger probably won't ever bring this up, and they certainly won't do it again. He was right - this was stupid. He gets up to go to his own room, not realizing that he's woken Roger, and not hearing when Roger asks him what he's doing and asking him to come back.
He goes out alone the next day. When he gets home later on, he finds out that he was right. Roger and Mimi have fixed things. They've probably apologized for yelling. Promises have probably been made. The smiles have probably returned to their faces. Roger's probably forgotten all about last night. And how does he know this?
The fucking bedsprings are keeping him awake again.
A/N: Sorry this part took so long. If you're still with me, I quite appreciate it. Also, thanks for the kind words and/or favorites. It's very encouraging to know that people are enjoying the things I'm writing. I'm working on the next prompt right now (062. shattered), so hopefully it'll be up in a few days.