Joanne had read many a story with clichéd paragraphs about how someone wakes up happy and careless and then it all comes flooding back to them. That didn't happen—as much as she wished it had. Instead she fully recalled the misery of the night before she even opened her eyes.
Maureen was still straddling her, but now her chest fell up and down with fitful sleeping breaths, as opposed to fitful sobs. Joanne gently placed a hand on Maureen's stomach. She couldn't bear to think of part of Mark being inside of her. And Joanne was almost positive that Maureen would go back to Mark now. She'd grown up in a broken home, and she'd always hated her parents for it. It would be so easy to leave now—to get out before she got attached to the baby too.
But she looked at Maureen, still resting a hand on her stomach, and knew that she couldn't leave—not now. Besides, if worst came to worst, she could always be Aunt Joanne. That put a smile on her grim face. It had a nice, melodic ring to it.
Speaking of ringing, the phone sounded next to her (but Joanne had no means to get up and answer it as she had a pregnant woman astride her) and Maureen began to stir, giving Joanne the perfect means to grab the phone in case it rang again. Joanne kissed her forehead and gave her a smile. One day at a time and they'd be all right.
0--0
Collins, despite never knocking on the door of the loft or any of the rooms in it (save, occasionally, the bathroom—note the use of occasionally), did knock on the door of Mimi's apartment, lest he walk into a delicate situation.
He'd gone home after the 'talk' with Roger, bringing both Mimi and Angel along so that Angel could get her things. That took about ten minutes, and then they headed back for Mimi's place.
It was a Sunday now, and no one was up and/or answering their phones. He had gotten so accustomed to waking up early with Angel, ever the morning person, that sleeping in was getting harder. And that was quite the feat, because he was known for sleeping in until five in the afternoon, waking for a bowl of Captain Crunch, and falling asleep in the bowl.
"Good morning," came his lover's cheery voice as she opened the door. She hugged him. "What are you doing here?"
"Am I not allowed to come see you? Besides—I'm hungry and bored. I thought that maybe we could all go to the Life."
"Sounds like a plan—but Mimi's still asleep."
"Just like the rest of the world."
"Which reminds me—why are you here this early?"
"Lets just say that you've left your mark."
Angel smiled. "I'll wake up Mimi and you go get the boys."
"Call Mo for me?"
She pecked his lips. "Done." Angel skipped in, yelling Mimi's name.
It was exceedingly strange for Collins to be without Angel in the morning, but being in the loft was nostalgia welcome to him. Besides—he didn't envy the pounding that Mimi was going to be subjected to until she woke up.
0--0
"Angel, does Collins have an alarm clock to wake him up for work?"
The young drag queen shook her head. "No."
Mimi snorted. "Didn't think so." She sipped at her coffee mug. Angel's 'waking up' skills were kind of scary and made you want to wake up even faster to make them stop, which may have been the point.
"Are you calling Joanne's?" she asked when Angel picked up the phone. Angel nodded.
"Hello darling. Yes. No, I'm at Mimi's."
Mimi found it quite fun to try and imagine the other side of the conversation, but it was more fun to do when Angel called Collins.
"So are you two coming?" Angel continued asking. She seemed to have already explained that the group was meeting up. "About an hour, I think." Her face suddenly darkened and she fell silent for a minute. "You okay, honey? Are you sure? Alright, if you say so. Bye."
"Is something wrong?" Mimi asked.
Angel nodded. "I just don't know what. Yet."
0--0
Mark had to give Collins credit—he knew how to handle a grumpy Roger.
He himself hadn't been the hardest to awaken, but Roger was…difficult. As usual, you had to drag him through all holy hell to get him to even respond—or in this case, crack an eyelid. Collins was beating him with his pillow, quite an amusing situation it was.
"Get," BAM, "your," BAM, "ass," BAM, (this time in the rear for good effect) "up!"
Roger finally turned, intent on wrestling the pillow from the anarchist's grasp. He lunged at the same time as Collins and they ended up a heap on the floor, Roger still trying to grab the pillow that was still beating the air from his lungs.
Collins got up (in a sort of dancing leap way) and ran like hell for the kitchen, where he shoved the pillow in the freezer. Mark could only surmise that this was because he'd had it open already and it was convenient, but one could never tell with Collins. Anyway, as Roger hobbled in—his right leg tangled in bed sheets—the freezer door was quickly shut.
"Ah, Roger, you're up!" Collins boomed. Mark had to suppress the urge to snort into his coffee. "We're meeting every down at the Life. Would you like to come?"
Roger gave one of his morning death glares, one that Mark recognized from Collins days in the loft—it read, "Give me back the motherfucking pillow or feel my emo-boy wrath".
Collins didn't bat an eyelash—the boy was good. "Your glares don't work on me Rog, I'm wearing my Anti-Emo protective gear today."
Roger didn't say anything, but instead lingered in the doorframe for a while, finally turning away to get ready.
"One last thing, Rog!"
He turned his head. "What?"
Collins sniggered. "Try to put on some pants next time, man. That look doesn't work for you."
Roger, who quite frequently slept in the nude, stormed off into his room.
Mark stared, not sure whether to laugh until he cried or go out to find new friends. He decided to do both and, in between fits of laughter, wondered what his Yellow Pages ad would say.
0--0
Sorry, the delay was totally my fault…I'm laaaazy. And Final Fantasy XII had taken over my life!! Amazing game, I recommend it to all—it's got a rich, mature plot, a battle system that I want in my pants, and a sex god named Balthier. Yum.
Anywhorezzle, here we are. The next chapter will be…hopefully soon. I just hate typing the chapter after I finish writing them in school. I still have four pages of fanfiction to type up…the bane of my existence. That and silverware.
Reviews make the chapters come faster, and they make me happier when I write them. And when I'm happy I crank out amazing M/R/C friendship, because originally there was nothing but Collins lightly beating Roger with a pillow. It evolved…to say the least…