Title: Last Christmas

Pairing: Mark/Roger (Marker)

Summary: It's their first Christmas since Mark's diagnosis and he's acting strange. Roger can't figure out why for the life of him.

A/N: This'un is for Elizabeth, people. (elizzabethavary) Hiiiii, bb :D *waves frantically* In the past couple of months she's become a really great friend of mine and my second Roger on roleplay. She's been amazing and supportive when I needed her to be and I try to do the same for her. We had to overcome some odds- like figuring out how to text over the Canadian/U.S. border for free- but we did it! Happy holidays, Lizabeth. :3 If you like nothing else about them, like this!

It was obvious to Roger from the moment he woke up that something was off. Mark wasn't in his normal place cuddled up beside him in bed, and in his place was a steaming mug of coffee with a little orange sticky note stuck to the side of it, "Merry Christmas!" written on it in Mark's neat cursive scrawl. He carefully disentangled himself from the sheets so as not to upset it and picked it up in both hands, frowning and taking a sip. It was still hot.

Then where the hell was Mark?

He allowed himself a few more long sips of the coffee before opening his eyes again blearily and swinging his legs our over the side of the bed. The floor was freezing to his bare feet, but he managed not to make any disgruntled noises at this, just pulling on a questionably clean pair of sweatpants and a tank top from the floor. Wandering into the hallway and out into the living area, he looked around curiously for his roommate-turned-lover.

Mark was sitting on the couch by himself, sipping quietly at a mug of tea- tea, not coffee, he thought with a small smile, of course. Mark was strange that way. He was frowning lightly, looking troubled. Roger made a small grunt to alert him to his presence, because he knew Mark hated people sneaking up on him. (He was probably the most high-strung person Roger knew- another reason that it was probably best that he stayed away from the coffee.)

As his eyes snapped up to meet Roger's, the filmmaker paled and scrambled to his feet, nearly tipping over his half-full mug of tea in the process. "O-oh! You're up- I was just leaving…" That's when the guitarist noticed that he was fully dressed, probably at least five layers plus the faded plaid jacket he'd been wearing for years. His camera sat beside him on the couch. He felt his lips full into a confused and disappointed frown.

"Aren't we spending Christmas together?" He didn't mean for it to sound so hurt and he winced internally. But perhaps guilting it out of him would actually work, because Mark blanched.

"I- thought that- Nevermind. I guess I can stay. Unless you want to go to Life Support?" He sighed at Roger's mulish expression. "Okay… Maybe not… I'll just- be in my room then…"

With that he scurried off, barely brushing past Roger in his haste to get to his room- which he'd hardly occupied for months now, sharing Roger's bed with him and consequently his room- shutting the door as quietly as he could behind him.

Roger stared, dumbfounded, at the closed bedroom door and slowly brought the coffee mug to his lips for another sip.

He'd just have to ask him later…

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

He tries everything to keep himself busy. Really. Mark needs his privacy sometimes, needs his isolation, or maybe he'd just been struck with inspiration and needed some time to get it all down on paper, or cut together some film. He'd been working on another movie, lately, seemed really into it. But Roger was never good at entertaining himself; he needed a crowd of adoring fans or semi-amused friends to hang off of and annoy until they did something to distract him from the mind-numbing boredom he was quick to descend into.

Not to mention, Mark was being really weird. He came out of his room once to use the bathroom, scurried so quickly in and out that Roger barely had time to react, and once he came out just to pace up and down the hallway a couple of times before nodding to himself and returning to his cave. Roger had watched all of this with the same baffled face, a notebook in his lap and a pen between his fingers, or his lips, as he tried in vain to ignore the cold seeping into him and write something cheerful for the holidays.

Come to think of it, it didn't seem a whole lot like Christmas, Mark was Jewish and he didn't know that Roger was used to paper chains and Christmas trees freshly cut his entire childhood. Collins hadn't been around much this year, couldn't even make it back here from his new job in Maine, but promised to stop in at New Years. He would usually have brought them some holiday spirit. But as it was, it was light and there were no decorations to be found, and Roger was bored out of his mind, desperately curious as to what his boyfriend was up to.

It got the better of him around four in the afternoon. It was already starting to dim, and he was sick of the waiting. "Mark! What the hell! Come out, what are you DOING?" He banged on the door, shouting, and almost instantly it cracked open to reveal Mark's pink and anxious face.

"I thought I'd leave you alone today… Because, you know… It's been a year." Roger blinked without comprehension and Mark sighed. "A year since we got together- and you made a wish?"

Slowly, it dawned on him, and he made an understanding noise in the back of his throat. "My New Years resolution? Come on, Mark, do you really think I'd follow through with it if I made one?" He'd snorted, stroking his hand through the other man's soft hair. Mark had shrugged.

"It's good to have a resolution! It gives you something to strive for." He'd protested. And Roger had sighed in defeat, closing his eyes and thinking for a moment.

"Okay, fine. Even though it's only Christmas…" He'd shot Mark a look then, exasperation laced with amusement at the childish eagerness on his face, blue eyes shining. "I guess I'm going to try my best to… make sure this works. And keep you happy. And… healthy."

Starting to feel guilty, Roger ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Did you take your AZT?"

Mark nodded silently, looking even more guilty than Roger felt, and he wasn't sure why. Giving him an odd look, he asked, "What's wrong? You know you didn't do anything wrong, Mark."

"I got sick. I ruined it." Biting his lip, Mark started to retreat into his room again, but Roger's arm shot out and caught his. His struggles were feeble and Roger knew he didn't honestly want to get away.

"Hey. Shut up. You couldn't control that," he said, scowling impatiently and tugging Mark towards him, forcing the door open wider and pulling him right into his chest. The shorter man looked up anxiously at him, eyes big and blue and concerned as ever, guilty for no good reason. "It's Christmas and I want to spend it with you."

Mark had to smile at the whine in Roger's voice, arms coming up hesitantly to wrap around his neck as he nuzzled into his chest. "M'sorry," he mumbled, hair tickling Roger's chin. "I just…"

"I know. You WORRY." Roger rolled his eyes, hugging Mark to him and soaking in his heat, this full body contact he'd been yearning for all day. He let his eyes fall shut, finally relaxing, and felt himself at peace for the first time since his caffeine buzz had crashed.

"It's what I do…" Mark laughed and pulled away slightly, only half joking. "Did you take your AZT?"

"Yes, mom," he mocked, sticking out his tongue and then thinking better, leaning down to lick a stripe across his neck. He was rewarded with a squeal and a squirm, and a smirk spread across his face. "So. Are you going to come cuddle with me? Are you really going to make me ASK?"

"No, that's okay. I'll come now," Mark replied, the shy flush returning as he glanced down, smiling almost to himself. He stepped away for a moment, dusting himself off, and removes his arms from Roger's shoulders only to replace them in his hands. And the guilt begins to fade from his eyes.

Roger feels a smile creep onto his own face. But Mark has always had that effect on him. "I love you, sick or not," he says sternly, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

Mark laughs, and everything is okay again.

"I love you too, Rog. Merry Christmas."