Title: Reindeer Games

Pairing: Mark/Roger (Marker)

Summary: Early on Christmas morning, a teenaged Roger sneaks in through Mark's window to celebrate the holidays with his Jewish friend.

A/N: Jessica, this one be for you my fangirl-in-crime! :) Yeah, I really couldn't resist when it came to teen!Marker. (I'm still eagerly waiting for your next chapter... *hint hint, wink wink*) Anyways, Jess (nodaybuttodayJ94) has been my mutual fangirl for a coupla months and we always make sure to review for each other. And she's pretty awesome, guys, so go check out her fanfiction. Hope you have a merry Christmas! :) Looooove, your fangirl.

Mark didn't normally like to be woken up by a snowball to the head, and he didn't today.

"Fuck!" He shrieked, shooting up out of bed and shaking his head frantically, snowflakes and ice chips flying out of his hair. A ringing was in his ears, the side of his head numb with cold, and his eyes flew open wildly as he clutched his blankets to his chest. No, this is not how he preferred to wake up... As awful as he thought his alarm clock was, at least it only assaulted one of his senses.

Roger stood over him, flushed and beaming at him as though everything was just hunky dory. As though he wasn't clapping his wet, frozen hands together to get the feeling back into them. He narrowed his blue eyes at the other boy, still half asleep and grouchy.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Good morning to you, too!" That shit-eating grin again. He should be sick of it, but he couldn't help it- it gave him butterflies every time. Disgruntled and trying not to submit to the warm glowy feeling in his gut, Mark huffed.

"It's seven a.m. on a Saturday. Why am I awake?" he complained.

Roger gave him the look- his patented Roger Davis exasperation, 'fuck the world, if I don't approve then it's not right'- and snorted, hands on his hips. He wasn't wearing nearly enough layers for this freezing December day. In fact, Mark wasn't sure why but he had a feeling that this December day in particular was important…

"It's CHRISTMAS, dumbass!" The brunette swatted at his ginger friend's head playfully, pulling a small package out of his jacket, toying with it. "You know, Santa and his elves? Frosty the Snowman? Rudolph?"

"I'm Jewish!" he protested lamely, but they both knew that didn't mean anything. Everytime he slept over at Roger's house he woke up in the morning and had a plate of bacon, and he knew more Christmas carols than Roger did. As he named off the different Christmas trademarks, cheerful Christmas tunes began playing in his head.

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose…

Sometimes Mark felt like Rudolph. The victim of bullies' insults, the scrawny oddball that nobody noticed except when it was to point out his flaws, the things that were unique and therefore bad- his reddish hair, his vibrant eyes, his too-thick glasses and his camera, practically attached to him. Ostracized, that's what he was. And from the time he'd heard that catchy song, four years old in a shopping mall with his mother, he'd decided that he liked Christmas very much. Jewish or not.

They never let poor Rudolph, join in any reindeer games…

He shook his head, sighing, as Roger climbed into his bed with him and did his very best not to blush. They were fifteen now and the tension was getting unbearable, always dancing around each other; Mark knew very well that Roger was bi, and Roger knew that Mark had always had a schoolgirl crush on him, since the day they met in the first grade. But no one was prepared to put themselves out there, make the first move.

Mark really wished that Roger had brought mistletoe to him through his window instead of the small present being thrust into his hands, but he couldn't really complain. He chewed his lip guiltily. "I couldn't think of what to give you…" he admitted sheepishly, starting to feel bad as he turned the wrapped present over in his pale hands, marveling at the contrast between the bright colors and his own skin.

"I don't care. Open it!" Roger was like a puppy, over eager, bouncing the bed underneath both of them and leaning right into Mark's personal space. The smaller boy gave up, blushing violently and hoping the other boy didn't notice.

He meticulously hooked his nails under the tape, carefully peeling it away from the paper sure not to rip it even in the slightest. It aggravated Roger when he did this and he knew it, but he was Mark- if he wasn't obsessive compulsive and twitchy over every little thing, who would he be? Not Mark. A minute of fiddling later, he smiled slightly in triumph as he got the paper open and dumped the small object into his palm.

A snow globe, crystalline glass and perfect on a plastic red-and-green stand, tumbled into his palm, heavier than he'd expected. He peered at it curiously, holding it up to the light and shaking it a little. Little white flakes of artificial snow danced around, floating slowly to the miniature ground as miniature pine trees stood still and a plastic version of Rudolph grinned at him, small and beacon-nosed and happy as can be with Clarice at his side.

"Oh… It's pretty," he murmured, fascinated. It was a long minute before he tore his eyes away, gut twisting pleasantly again as he took in Roger's anxious expression. He was waiting, he realized. For confirmation that he liked it. "I love it!"

Roger immediately relaxed, green eyes warm and filled with hope. "Really?" he asked, disregarding Mark's personal space even further, practically in his lap. "Oh, good… I mean, I know it's a little tacky. But I figured since you don't get to do a tree at your house and this year my mom wouldn't let you come over and do ours-"

"It's really nice," he nodded, cutting off Roger's tirade, nodding and feeling guilty again as he looked away. "I'm really sorry I didn't get you anything. I wish I had something to give you. I feel like an ass."

"Pshh. I don't hang out with assholes bigger than me," Roger teased, leaning in further. Mark half wanted to lean away, nervous- what was he doing? Roger never took things this far, so close he could feel his breath on his lips, and his eyes flickered nervously down as he licked them.

"What…?" he started dazedly, unable to make himself pull away, dancing on a thin line of anticipation. Roger didn't give him an answer, just leaned in, eyes falling shut as their lips touched for the first time.

It was awkward, as first kisses tend to be. Mark wasn't sure what to do with his hands, Roger's fingers sliding through his hair softly, so he just left them clutching at his snowglobe tightly, his own eyes snapping shut as he concentrated on the soft, slow, confusing movements of their lips over one anothers.

Roger lead it, and he broke it, taking a deep breath. He looked completely content. "Mm," he mumbled. "Always wanted to do that."

"M-me too…" Mark stuttered, abruptly wishing that he'd gotten a picture of that moment, so perfectly imperfect and crystal-clear in his mind. "I- does this mean-?"

"You're mine," Roger said simply. His eyes lowered as he took Mark's hand, prying it from the snowglobe. "Yeah. I mean, as long as you're okay with it."

"Yeah… I think I am." Mark felt the goofy smile starting to spread across his face, and he tried to hide it in embarrassment, turning away. He wasn't that lucky- Roger, mischievous as ever, nearly tackled him to the bed, tickling his sides furiously.

"What's that I see? Mark Cohen smiling? What's gotten into you, Marky, that's just unnatural!"

No amount of kicking and squirming, laughing breathlessly beneath his best friend and apparently boyfriend, could free him. But that was alright. When the attack finally subsided and they had both collapsed onto the mattress flushed and panting and joyous, Mark was still smiling.

Everything he'd been isolated from, missing out on all this time- all of it was right here, on Christmas morning with Roger.

The young guitarist twined their fingers again between them and they both looked down to see their hands between them, reflected by the snowglobe dimly, and sighed.

Looks like he got to play the reindeer games after all.