Title: Public Displays

Pairing: Mark/Roger (Marker)
Summary: The bohos come over to celebrate Christmas with Mark and Roger and spend the entire time trying to trick them under the mistletoe.

A/N: This one is dedicated to Daelen (cupcakexheartagramxdraco) who is awesome and I just love her to pieces. Because she's an HP/RENT nerd like me, and she introduced me to Dr. Horrible, and she had one of my favorite requests. I like how this turned out and I hope you enjoy it, friend! :D Happy holidays!

Mark blamed himself, entirely. Sure, Maureen had supplied the goods and Joanne had let her and Collins had known all along, but he should have noticed. Maureen was never very god at being sneaky, and if he wasn't a little tiny bit tipsy- "Maaaark, come on! Get drunk with me!" "Roger, it's ten a.m." "But it's Christmas! Fucking Christmas, man!"- he would have seen it right away. He had to have looked right over it.

"Haaaaappy Hannukah!" Maureen shrieked the moment she was through the door. She threw her arms around the flustered filmmaker, over-exuberant and smelling strongly of Joanne's perfume as usual.

"Mo, I don't really celebrate-"

"Where's your me- men- um- candle thing?" She blinked, eyes scanning the room quickly as she pulled away. He gave an exasperated sigh.

"We don't have one. We have a tree, though..."

The bohemians generally didn't have more than enough money to scrape by, but when they wanted to they could always manage to pull together decorations. Angel had helped with that, the year she was with them. Now, without her, Mimi had taken her place, and she was dutifully hanging colorful paper chains and humming along to the Christmas tunes streaming from her portable radio. Mark wondered what would happen if Benny turned their power off again right now- he was briefly entertained by the image of the furious Latina stomping up to his apartment in her work skimpy santa outfit, hands on her hips to reprimand him in Spanish and demand he turn it back on, or get slapped.

The tiny pine, reminiscent of Charlie Brown's Christmas tree, sat on the metal table in the kitchen with gift wrapped boxes and bags scattered haphazardly around it, shimmering with sparkles and bows and the multicolored light of the Christmas lights adorning the walls because the tree was too small. It was oddly cheerful, even though most of their gifts were probably crappy little dollar store trinkets or thrift items, or in Mimi's case homemade things made out of whatever she could find. Maureen was attracted to it immediately, zooming over to observe it, and Mark sighed with relief as he was released.

"Batshit crazy. Didn't I tell you?" Roger chuckled behind him, alarmingly close to his ear. He whipped around- Mark couldn't help being high strung, he always had been, always would be- and smiled upon seeing Roger's dancing green eyes.

"That was a long time ago. When we were dating," he pointed out, not denying the statement. The taller man rolled his eyes, about to make another counterargument, but suddenly everything was quiet. Nervously, Mark turned again and nearly jumped.

"Maureen! Don't sneak up on me!" he yelped, stumbling right into Roger''s arms. The guitarist happily wrapped them around him, nuzzling into his neck, and Mark blushed faintly at the public display of affection. He was never much for them, which had proved to be a problem with Maureen before and Roger now, both of them affectionate people. Nevertheless, he rubbed Roger's shoulder, earning a delighted squeal from Mo.

"You two are SO cute," she gushed, holding up the sprig of mistletoe that Mark had neglected to notice before, and he immediately paled, backing further into Roger.

"No. No, no no no-" He twisted around to give his boyfriend a pleading look, and Roger took pity on him. He couldn't resist those blue puppy dog eyes. "Please, no. Mo. Come on. You know I don't like-"

"Give it a rest," Roger advised her, kissing the top of Mark's head for good measure before releasing him and putting a respectable distance between them. He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow at her in challenge, and she stuck out her lip and pouted.

"I'll get you. You'll see," she threatened, extending her pointer at both of them and narrowing her eyes.
Collins, in the background, just laughed. Joanne looked on in mild exasperation. And Mimi kept on swaying to the music, beautiful Spanish flowing from her lips.

"Feliz navidad! Prospero ano y felicidad!"

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

Mark found himself growing more and more paranoid as the day progressed, denying the bottle of Stoli and the joint Collins passed his way. The philosopher gave him a knowing look, chuckling as he took a puff and laid back on the couch, utterly relaxed- he was just getting over a cold, and Mark was glad to see his friend feeling better.

"Marky," Roger whined, coming up behind him again to rub his stiff shoulders. "Come dance with me! Mimi is torturing me!" Said Latina shot him a look, huffing and returning to her wild, fluid movements, Maureen clapping and trying to imitate her, Joanne flushing and looking away as her girlfriend's skirt flew up behind her.

"I don't dance." Mark was a rock, immovable, frowning and nursing his camera close to him as he recorded the dancing. It was a bit of a lie, but he didn't know that. Only Joanne had any idea of his secret tangoing skills.

"But you do with me," he tried, flashing him a winning smile, a curl of his overgrown dirty-blonde hair falling into his eyes. Mark felt himself melt a little, licking his lips and glancing down at his feet as he shuffled them, resisting the urge to run his hands through it.

"Not right now, Rog... Later. When everyone's gone." He gave him a weak smile and smoothed his shirt down anxiously, and the rocker sighed, exasperated.

"What if I- MAUREEN!" Roger scowled, maneuvering Mark bodily to the other side of him. The filmmaker looked around in alarm, forgetting to rewind the crank on his camera as frantically searched for the offending woman. Maureen looked frustrated and disappointed, stretched up on her tiptoes reaching over Roger's head dangling the damned mistletoe again. He exhaled sharply in relief, giving Roger's arm a grateful squeeze.

"I told you, Mo!" he glared at her, pink with annoyance. "Don't do that!"

She just winked, obviously not done with him, and flounced off to the group who were all watching them discreetly, grinning. Mark started to get the feeling that they were all in cahoots, but that might have been the paranoia that so defined him-

He caught a glimpse of Collins rolling his eyes, eying them mischievously, and all doubts disappeared.

MRMRMRMRMRMRMRMRMR

It was late, almost time for them to start passing out or walking home- walking, or taking a cab, not driving both because only Joanne owned a car and because they were hardly sober. Mark had given in, eventually, needing to relieve some of the tension that Maureen was causing him, and downed several shots with Mimi. And here he was, feeling fuzzy and pleasant, sitting with his camera filming as Joanne taught Collins how to tango in the middle of the living room to the tune of Frosty the Snowman.

"You've got it," she nodded in approval as their feet swept around the dusty floor together, and the other bohemians laughed and cheered them on. Roger had somehow managed to attach himself to him, surprising even less drunk than he was- possibly for the first time- just leaning his head on his shoulder happily, occasionally turning to press his lips to his shoulders, his cheek, his neck. Mark didn't mind. He was too inebriated to care, and anyways, it's not like he was really kissing him-

"I got you!" came Maureen's triumphant crow, and he looked up in horror to see that she had managed to hand the green leaves and red berries directly over both of their heads. Fuck. How did she do that?
Roger followed his gaze and grinned. "She got us fair and square," he pointed out, sounding more than a little hopeful, and twisted around so he was facing his boyfriend. "Come on, Cohen, show me what you've got."

Mark looked around the room nervously. The music was still playing, the snow floating gently outside in the darkness, candles and Christmas lights keeping the room cheerful and warm enough. Joanne and Collins had paused in their dance, swinging around to look at them curiously, Mimi joining in on the anticipation and Maureen smirking down at them, and oh God he was really going to have to do this wasn't he?

Taking a deep breath and muttering, "I hate you. I hate you so much." Mark decided to plunge in headfirst, swooping down and slamming his mouth into Roger's, hands tangling in his hair, straddling his lap- his camera was put aside, forgotten for the moment as his eyes squeezed shut tightly. A bright flush had risen on his cheeks and he could feel it, hot and uncomfortable, but Roger was groaning into it and he couldn't concentrate on anything else. It didn't matter that they had an audience or that he thought he looked weird when he kissed, just that Roger was clutching him closer, tongue thrusting into his mouth and hands sliding up under his sweater to brush over his nipples.

An electric current seemed to go through him and he gasped, jerking away. A thin trail of saliva connected their mouths and he licked his lips, rubbing them self-consciously, suddenly embarrassed feeling all of the eyes trained on him. He buried his face in Roger's shoulder, hiding himself, and Roger gladly allowed this, hugging him tightly looking so satisfied it was almost comical.

Then the applause started. He was almost certain it was Maureen who started it, and he almost wanted to laugh as everyone quickly followed suit, Collins wolf whistling and the girls squealing, laughing.

"About time!" Collins called. Roger grinned, and Mark nodded sheepishly as he pulled away.

"Did I ever tell you that I've always wanted to do that?" Roger murmured into his ear, practically purring. With a small laugh he nodded.

"Does PDA count as your Christmas present?"

"I think it does." And with a crooked grin, Roger leaned in again. Mark closed his eyes and let him.

Hell, it was Christmas. Why not?