Disclaimer: It's all Jonathon Larson's. No one could hope to measure up anyway.

Roger

Walking away from Mark, shoes squishing in the thick mud, Roger's mind set up a rhythm to his footfalls. Left, right, left, right, shit, shit, shit, shit. What had just happened? In fact…what had he just done? He headed for the car, mind reeling dizzyingly. Halfway there, he heard feet slapping the pavement behind him.

The school had pretty much emptied out by that time, and the sound bounced around the large buildings, echoing in the bare courtyard. Long before he turned around he knew that it was Mark running after him, so he stopped walking. Slowly Roger swiveled to face Mark, who had paused to catch his breath. After a moment he looked at Roger, his eyes pleading and nervous, and gestured behind them. "What…just happened?" he asked, words shadowing the thought that had been tumbling through Roger's own mind.

He studied Mark, his mind utterly jumbled. When Mark had haltingly tried to explain what was wrong earlier, a lot of things had clicked into place for Roger—suddenly the occasional flickers of emotion in his eyes made sense, and he'd just looked so sweet and desperate and needy that Roger done what came reflexively to him— kissed Mark.

Never before had Roger been even remotely attracted to another guy. Girls were definitely appealing, but even racking his brain, he couldn't come up with any other guys that he thought were at all desirable, and certainly none that he'd want to kiss. Only Mark.

Mark was standing there in front of him, still looking sad and lost but determined. Roger knew that Mark wasn't planning to walk away or let him go until he'd gotten answers or an argument, depending on Roger's reaction. He studied Mark, trying to come up with some adequate answer to explain himself.

All of what Roger had said before was true. He did want Mark, as strange as that was for him, and he cared a great deal about him. He cared enough not to want to fuck things up as far as friendship went, though, and he thought he might have just done that.

He didn't realize that he'd let the pause stretch too long until Mark asked again, voice scratchy with evidence of a dry throat, "Roger?"

That snapped him back to the present, and he blinked a few times. "Yeah….well….I'm pretty sure what just happened was that we just kissed, and we obviously both enjoyed it. Is that a good summary?"

He knew that he was provoking Mark a bit, and indeed, a spasm of annoyance crossed his features, but his voice stayed steady. "Thanks, I'd caught that much of it. But why? Why did you do that?" A note of panic stole into his tone. "Were you just doing that to ridicule me?" By the time he got to the last word, he'd slipped nearly to a whisper, and Roger was already shaking his head.

He looked so small to Roger, and not just because he was a few inches shorter. Just like back by the wall, Mark had shrunk down into himself, and Roger walked forward a few steps so they were closer together. After another glance around told him that there was no one in sight, he took Mark's hands, squeezing them tightly. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to keep you from being hurt. You're a great guy, Mark, and I want—you. However I can have you, as a friend or…"

Mark's eyes, bright blue with emotion, snapped up to meet Roger's. This time when he spoke, he all but squeaked. "Me? You want…me? How—why?"

Roger was struck by the absolute incredulity in his voice, as though he couldn't imagine why anyone could possibly be attracted to him. "Do you want me to make a list?" Roger asked dryly, then continued, "Well, you're smart. We have fun together. Your eyes are amazing and you're cute as hell when you're embarrassed. Oh, yeah, and I think guys with cameras glued to their faces are pretty damn sexy." Mark's face was flaming as intended, but he was grinning, too.

"You're serious, aren't you? That wasn't just something that we're never going to refer to ever again, and pretend didn't happen?"

Roger tightened his grip on Mark's hands, which were soft and smooth within his own, and used that as leverage to pull the smaller boy towards him until he could set Mark's hands on his shoulders. He slipped his arms around Mark's waist, taking note of how different holding Mark was in comparison to a girl. Mark was more solid, and a little more hesitant, but Roger supposed that the latter would pass.

Mark's face was already tilting up towards him as Roger leaned down to kiss him. He could feel Mark trembling in the embrace, and the lingering uncertainty was comforting—even somewhat of a turn on. This kiss was longer and more persistant than the previous ones, and they took their time about delving into each corner of one another's mouths, occasionally letting their tongues meet and dance together with awkward youthful grace.

It was driving Roger crazy, how slowly they were going, so he pulled Mark closer, crushing their mouths together more roughly. He could feel Mark gasp against his mouth, and that only encouraged him to kiss the other boy harder, hips pressing together even just standing there, and Roger shivered at the feel of the length of their bodies in contact.

Mark moaned slightly as they broke apart, both breathing hard. Looking as if it was the last thing he wanted to bring up, Mark asked haltingly, "Don't...you have to go...to…"

"Band practice?"

"Yeah."

"Well, fuck band practice. I'm not the one that needs practice anyway."

Mark chuckled a little, as he always did when Roger was being particularly arrogant, but Roger really didn't mind. Instead, he ruffled Mark's hair, causing him to pout and duck away. "Bastard," he muttered.

Roger grinned cockily. "Technically that's true, but you don't have to insult my parents. Passion's a dangerous thing."

He looked shocked, but recovered quickly. "Oh, is it? Why's that?"

Predatorily Roger stalked towards Mark, training his eyes on him. "Because…it makes you do things…like this." He leapt forwards, grabbing Mark into another breathless kiss, and just as they were getting into it, started tickling his waist.

Violently the prey bucked away, sputtering. "Roger! You're horrible!"

"Yeah, I don't know why I'm allowed out. Really, you ought to just tie me up somewhere inside and do something to punish me for how bad I've been."

Mark was trying really hard not to laugh, Roger could tell, and it was definitely not going well for him. Instead, he shoved Roger lightly, and Roger grabbed his wrist before he could escape. From there, he transferred his grip to Mark's waist, pulling him close enough that he could pick the smaller boy up, marveling at how light and scrawny Mark was. Still, Roger was barely able to do it because Mark was kicking so much, but he had enough of a hold on Mark to get him to the ground where he wanted. Once Mark was flat on his back, Roger straddled his waist and sat down on top of him.

Immediately, Mark stopped struggling to get away, instead helplessly pushing his hips up slightly so that Roger absolutely couldn't miss the effect that he was having on Mark's body. Since the effect was the same for Roger, he smiled and winked, thrusting his hips and leaning down to press their lips together again for good measure.

Suddenly a sharp voice snapped through the air, and Roger whipped his head back up, looking for the source. A thin, sticklike woman with large, cat-eye glasses and a high-collared shirt was glaring them down. "Excuse me, young man," she said, addressing Roger, since he was the most visible of the two, "what exactly do you think you're doing?"

Roger held her gaze, rather than climbing off of Mark and looking down to mumble an apology as he was sure was the intended effect of her icy question. Instead, just as coldly, he responded, "Making out. What's it look like?"

If it was even possible, the woman turned even more stiff, her nose pointed upwards, showing exactly what she thought of them. Roger stood up then, and Mark did also, brushing himself off and looking nervously over to see who Roger was talking with. Though he wasn't watching Mark, Roger imagined that he most likely went ghost-pale, because the woman's eyes widened and she said, "Mark Cohen?"

"Hi Miss Tilly," he croaked faintly, and then, almost inaudibly, whispered, "Rog, I think that maybe we ought to go."

Roger stubbornly shook his head; the woman's reaction had only pissed him off more. Just loudly enough for her to hear, he replied, "She's being a self-righteous bitch with a stick up her ass."

If her eyes narrowed any more, Roger figured she wouldn't even be able to see them any longer, and they could just go back to what they had been doing. "Young man, I should have you suspended for speaking to me in that manner."

Roger sneered. "First of all, it's after school, so you really can't suspend me, and second, I wasn't addressing you, I was addressing him," he shot back, gesturing towards Mark. Mark, who was tugging at him now, trying to get him to leave the confrontation in the obvious hope that he wouldn't make things worse than they already were.

Miss Tilly's face pinched, and she was almost at a loss for words. Finally she spat, "I would have hoped that a student of mine could conduct himself with more school-appropriate behavior while on school grounds, and surround himself with more savory people." With that, she turned and marched off, nose still pointed up into the air, carrying herself in such a way that it was obvious that she thought she was better than either of them by far.

Only Mark's hand on Roger's arm and his desperate voice urging him to leave kept Roger from running after the woman and telling her exactly what kind of bitch he thought she was. Instead, smoldering, he turned around, grabbing Mark's hand and heading for the front of the school.

Finally they reached the front, and Mark quietly asked, "Rog?" Roger looked at him, and stopped walking.

"I just can't believe that she would—"

"Roger, that was one of my teachers back there. You just…I mean, she…"

Calming down, Roger looked at Mark now with worry, and saw that once again he looked scared and a little angry. It struck him deeply, and immediately he amended, "Mark, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I was just mad about what she was saying, and how she was looking at us so I didn't think…I'm sorry."

Slowly Mark drew his eyes from the ground back up to Roger and smiled faintly. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I hate her anyway. But if she tells anyone…"

"So what? Does it matter if anyone knows? If it does…then we'll call her a lying bitch. And same if she tries to lower your grade, or whatever. Prejudiced." Roger shook his head and opened his arms, into which Mark came quite willingly. Mark set his head on Roger's shoulder and Roger kissed his cheek before taking his hand again and leading him towards the car.

--------------------------

Lying in bed that night, thinking back about Mark was a heady feeling, and Roger was still amazed at how the day had panned out.

He'd known that Mark was something special from the beginning, but he hadn't expected them to go from being close, best friends to…what? Boyfriends? Really good friends who liked to kiss…make out…maybe more? Roger wasn't sure, so he pushed the uncertainties out of his mind for the moment, and instead concentrated on remembering the details.

Mark's lips had tasted like some tingly chapstick that Roger had really enjoyed, and when they were pressed together he could feel the outline of Mark's erection through his jeans. It was an wasn't something he'd ever thought would feel so good, but it did, not only because of the extra friction it provided, but because it was an obvious sign that Roger's feelings were reciprocated in full.

He fell asleep with Mark's face in mind, content and calm.