Disclaimer: Rent was created by Jonathan Larson. Someone else now has the rights to it; I'm not sure who, but not me. I'm only having a bit of fun. Please don't sue me... pretty please?

When five-thirty rolled around, Roger started glancing at the door. He'd done the logical thing that day: cleaned. He had cleaned the tables and shelves in the house, all flat surfaces. Dusted. He had done the laundry, made the bed, and was now waiting for Mark to come home. Roger's main concern--he had proved himself useful and knew he could stay another day--was burning dinner, at that point.

Mark shuffled his feet as he trudged up to the doorstep of his house. It had been a long, difficult day. His secretary had called in sick again so he was left to wade through the files of numerous patients, all seemingly suffering from paranoia and loneliness. Much as he liked being a doctor, he had days where he wondered why he bothered because all he seemed to be doing lately was listen to little old ladies complain about their rheumatism.

When he opened the door the aroma of a home cooked meal welcomed him and the house gleamed. Immediately his mood improved. He had helped Roger. "Whoa! What smells so good in here?" he asked.

Roger grinned. He was still wearing the clothes Mark had given him the previous evening, since he had no others. "Hey," he said. "I made dinner. I hope that's okay..." It seemed to be--Mark seemed pretty happy about the good smell.

"Of course that's okay. I usually come home and order take out that's half cold by the time it arrives. It's a treat for me to have a home-cooked meal, and usually it involves answering awkward questions from my mother." His voice switched to a whining falsetto. "When are you going to settle down, Marky? Why can't you find a nice Jewish girl and start a family? When can I expect grandchildren, Marky?" He rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I guess I have some Mommy issues to work out. The house looks amazing! I can't believe you found the time to do all that and cook too."

"It was my pleasure. Come and sit down, dinner's ready to eat." He had set the table for both of them and hoped that was acceptable to Mark. He took the plates and spooned rice onto each, smoothed the rice down in the center and added little pools of curry to the center of the rice. It was Chinese curry, since Mark hadn't any coconut milk in the house, but still--Roger reckoned--pretty tasty. He set down the plates. "Is this okay? I can eat somewhere else if..."

"Of course it's alright. I haven't had pleasant company for dinner in a long time. Plus you cooked, you should get to enjoy it."

Roger sat and picked up a fork. He hadn't eaten anything all day, unsure of the rules in Mark's house.

Mark started eating and nearly moaned with pleasure. "You're a terrific cook. This is the best curry I've tasted in outside of Asia. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

He smiled. "I took a lot of classes. My parents..." Roger paused. His smile faltered. He hadn't thought about his parents in a long time, since not thinking about them was less painful than considering what they would think of his situation. He shook his head and forced the smile back. "They both worked a lot, so I learned how to cook and... well..." He took a bite, pleased with himself. He'd done a good job of this.

Mark noticed Roger's discomfort when he mentioned his parents. It was another thing to add to the list to ask about later. For now he'd enjoy his excellent food and even better company. He looked over at Roger and smiled back. "You have a talent for cooking. I took a couple of classes at the community center, but nearly burned down the building. The smoke detector goes off if I make toast."

Roger blushed. "Thank you," he said. No one had complimented his cooking in a while. "You know, if you just... if you make a list of the foods you like I can make them, probably."

"I'll do that. You'll just have to let me know what you need to cook them. And also what you like as well. I'm pretty much open to trying anything. What's your favorite food?"

That one made Roger pause. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I like pizza a lot," he had to say, despite its complete lack of finesse. "I like everything, really."

Mark smiled. "I know the feeling. We'll just have to experiment a little." Mark watched Roger for a few minutes and then realized he was still wearing the sweats he had given him the night before. In his hurry in the morning, he had forgotten to bring Roger new clothes. "Oh dear, I just realized I forgot to give you some more clothes this morning. I've got a couple more pairs of sweats, but you'll need more than that. Is it at all possible for you to get your things or do you just want me to take you shopping?"

Roger quickly shook his head. "No-- I mean-- you don't need to do that, really but I'm afraid there's no way..." The only way to get his things back would be to return, and he had no intention of doing that.

"Roger," Mark interrupted gently, "you need clothes. You can't spend the rest of your life in my sweats. We'll go shopping this weekend," he decided. Though his voice was gentle, his tone kept Roger from protesting further.

"Thanks," Roger said. Mark had done so much for him--making a few dinners wasn't going to even them out on that. He ate quietly, wondering just what would happen if he did go to get his things back. He doubted he'd return to Mark's place, no matter how badly he wanted to. After a while he said, "I'll tell you, you know. Whatever you want. Preferably after dinner but I will tell you." He owed him that much at least.

Mark smiled. At least Roger trusted him that much. "I appreciate that, Roger, but it isn't necessary." He didn't want to push Roger. If he ran away now, who knew where he would land? Striving for normal conversation, Mark asked, "How was your day?"

"Good. I got a lot done," Roger told him, by which meant Mark's house was approaching spotless. "How was yours?"

"The same as usual. I must have seen ten little old ladies who just wanted someone besides their cat to talk to. Then I saw five children whose parents were convinced they had pneumonia but it was really the common cold. Yes. A typical day. When do I get to save lives again?"

"You saved my life," Roger whispered. He knew that wasn't what Mark meant. He wanted glory, excitement, not a teenage boy who just needed a place to lay his head... but if Roger wasn't here, he would probably be dead.

Mark could barely make out Roger's words, but all of a sudden, he felt a shiver. He realized just how true Roger's words were. A million questions came into his head, but it wasn't time to ask them.

Roger put down his fork. "Are you through eating?" he asked. "I'll wash everything up..."

Mark nodded. "Let me give you a hand. You wash, I'll dry."

"Thank you." Roger began washing plates. When the plates and forks were clean, he poured the leftover curry into Tupperwares and placed them in the refrigerator. The rice he left out.

Mark enjoyed watching the way Roger moved while washing the dishes. He had a certain grace about him. He tried timing his reach so they would brush hands when he reached into the sink to grab the wet plates but it didn't happen often enough for his liking. He hoped that Roger could have a little fun and relax. Once the dishes were done, he gave into impulse and playfully snapped the tea towel at the younger man beside him.

Roger squealed and laughed. "Dr. Cohen!" he yelped, smiling. He rubbed his leg where the towel had snapped him. He didn't know how to snap tea towels, but he did wet his fingers and flick water at Mark.

Mark's heart leapt when he heard Roger's laughter. He wet his own fingers and started to splash Roger back. He hadn't had a good water fight in years.

Roger ducked away from the water. "Don't make me short-sheet your bed!" he teased.

"Oh you better not! I still have to pay you back for calling me Doctor Cohen. In my house, I'm Mark and don't you forget it!" Mark took a handful of water and splashed it right into Roger's face.

Roger cringed away, not daring to wipe the water off his face. Conditioning kept his hands at his sides. He knew he was going to mess up! He knew it would happen sooner or later, but that he had done it so soon... and he hadn't known to call him Mark. "I'm sorry, Mark," he whispered.

Mark stopped at Roger's sudden change in demeanor. He had meant the comment as a joke, not a criticism. What was going on here? Why wasn't he wiping off his face? He tried to diffuse the situation with a few soft words. "Roger, it's ok. I'm just joking. You can call me anything you want."

Roger nodded, but he didn't let his guard down for a second. He had made that mistake once and was in no hurry to repeat it. The water growing colder on his cheeks was a reminder of the consequences. He set the rice aside and wiped down the counter.

Mark tried again. "It's really alright, Roger. I didn't mean to imply you were doing anything wrong."

"I won't let it be a problem again," he promised, his voice soft.

Mark reached his arm around the younger man. "Roger, I don't know what you've been through before, but you're not a problem to me."

Roger shivered, but he couldn't pretend that Mark's arm didn't make him relax. "If you just... tell me the rules... I can follow them."

"Rules? What kind of rules?" Mark hugged Roger tighter. "Just make yourself at home."

Roger trembled and bit down hard on his lip, determined not to cry. He didn't know what to say. He had broken a rule on accident and Mark was upset. If Mark didn't tell him the rules, he'd break more and just get into more trouble. "Please..."

Mark didn't want to upset Roger any further. He obviously needed something, but Mark wasn't sure what. "I want to help, Roger, but I don't know what you need. What do you mean by rules?"

"Anything," he whispered. "What to do. What not to do. Tell me and I promise you I'll never upset you again."

"Maybe you should tell me some of the rules you had before, as an example. If I don't like them, we'll change them. And you didn't upset me, Roger. It takes a lot more than that to upset me." Mark smiled down at Roger, trying to reassure him.

Roger took a deep breath. "There were only sometimes-rules," he told Mark.

"Sometimes-rules?" Mark repeated.

Roger nodded. "For... for when things weren't so good." Roger shivered. He held himself. "If I hadn't been bad life could've been so happy," he whimpered.

Mark tried to comfort him further by rubbing his shoulders. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Roger bit his lip. He knew he had promised, but he also knew Mark would be upset by the truth. And a guest didn't upset his host. "If it's all right, can I go to bed, please?" he asked.

Mark wanted to question Roger further about his remarks, but knew that he wouldn't get anywhere until Roger was ready to talk about it. He nodded his permission, but said, "I think we have a lot to talk about tomorrow."

"Y-you could come to bed with me," he suggested softly, automatically cringing.

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise that Roger would be so forward. "Are you sure? I don't want to put any pressure on you."

"I just don't want to be alone..."

"I understand," said Mark. Instead of following Roger to his room, he led him to the master suite. "The bed is bigger in here, and more comfortable."

"Thank you." Roger pulled off his shirt, then he paused. "I... if it's what you want... I wouldn't mind," he said.

Mark didn't know how to respond. It had been a long time since he'd last had a lover, a very long time. He longed to feel Roger's skin against his own. He placed his hand lightly on Roger's arm. "Are you ready for that? I'd love to but I want to make sure you're ready."

The question was strange to Roger. He nodded. "Any time you want," he said. He liked the contact, the touch-- he would be perfectly happy to let Mark please himself with him.

Mark turned Roger so he was facing him. "No, Roger. I want it to be about what you want." He leaned forward and kissed Roger gently.

Roger returned the kiss. It made his body sing and suddenly he felt warm all over. After, he admitted softly, "I don't want to." Then he winced. Idiot! How foolish he'd been to think Mark wanted to know his feelings. He wanted consent, that was all, and thick Roger hadn't caught on in time.

Mark wrapped his arms around Roger. "That's fine. I'm glad you were honest with me." He gave him another kiss, letting it linger to show he wasn't angry that they had stopped. Mark loved the feel of Roger's five-o'clock shadow against his own smooth skin. He wished they could kiss forever.

Roger felt his body go limp against Mark--not completely but just enough to let him feel at once like he was melting and flying. He didn't want the kiss to end, ever, nor for Mark to take his hands away. For the first time in a very long time, Roger felt happy and safe.

Mark guided Roger to the bed. He paused to remove his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers in place. He climbed on the bed and gathered Roger into his arms. "You're safe with me," he whispered.

Roger held Mark tightly. He nuzzled Mark's chest hair, a feature Roger himself had yet to develop. "Should we talk?" he asked, knowing Mark wanted to know things about Roger's life before.

Mark started rubbing Roger's back, trying to reassure him. "Yes, we should talk. I want to know what was going on. How did you really break your arm?"

Roger paused. If he told the truth, Mark might not want him to stay-- but if he didn't, Mark would definitely not want him to stay. "He kept shaking me," was what he settled on, because it was true but not incriminating.

Mark knew there was more to what Roger was saying, so he tried to get him to open up further. He kept his voice soft and calm, and continued his comforting massage of Roger's back. "Shaking you? Why did he do that?"

The answer came as though it was obvious, natural, though tinted by shame. "I was bad," he said simply.

"Bad? What did you do that was so bad that he had to shake you so much that your arm broke?" Mark tried to keep his tone even, but there was a slight edge of anger to it. Realizing the effect it may have on his skittish guest, he quickly added "I don't think you could do anything bad."

"I wasn't... totally... faithful," Roger replied. The response was labored--he didn't want to admit to this, and only did because he knew that he must.

Mark had suspected that Roger saw the world far differently from him, so he needed more information. "Oh, did he find you in bed with someone else? Even so, he doesn't have the right to hurt you."

"No... I... I never actually did anything, it's just... it made sense! I saw some... pictures, is what happened. And..." Roger blushed painfully. The last thing he wanted to do was tell this man whom he respected and wanted to love him about everything bad he had ever done. "It was just a really bad day, and on top of everything else..."

Pictures? Mark thought to himself. A broken arm over a few pictures? That wasn't being unfaithful. The kid was seventeen years old, probably more than a little curious about the world. And what did Roger mean by a really bad day? "Roger, there's nothing wrong with looking at a few pictures. It doesn't mean you're being unfaithful. At your age, it's healthy and a lot safer than satisfying your curiosity by sleeping around or something. And what do you mean about a bad day? Who was it bad for?"

"It was a bad day for him," Roger replied. "He... he'd got in trouble at work... but it wasn't really his fault, it was because his idiot boss switched the x-- the data sheets, and blamed him. And he was in a bad mood, and I was supposed to cook but dinner got messed up because I was... I was, uh, I was t-touching myself… and I was look at the pictures, and..."

"... and he took it out on you." Mark shivered. He knew people like that. He dealt with wives who were scared of their husbands at the clinic. During his internship, he had treated a young man whose boyfriend had beaten him with a two-by-four for some supposed misdeed. The patient didn't make it. He had been lucky he saw the signs in one of his exes. It could have easily been him in Roger's position. "Roger, it's not your fault. Even if you made a mistake, he shouldn't have hurt you."

"No-- it's not like that. You don't understand. You see, I... I wasn't working and... I mean he... did so much for me," Roger explained haltingly. "He gave me a roof over my head and a place to sleep and food to eat, he didn't ask that much, it's not unreasonable that I should... help out a little... how could I turn my back on all that?"

"I can understand you wanting to help out and do your fair share," Mark said soothingly. "But you know, there's a difference between a few chores and acting like a slave. What did he expect you to do for him?"

"Reasonable stuff. Keep the house clean, make dinner... there was some private stuff, but that's private. Between me and him. There was nothing wrong or unreasonable going on."

"Yeah, that sounds alright." Mark gave him another little squeeze. "You mentioned before you had rules for when things weren't going well. What were some of the rules and what happened if you broke them?"

Roger blushed. "Don't want to say," he murmured. "They were kind of... sometimes... sexual..."

The fact that those kind of rules even existed told Mark a lot about the situation. He didn't press the matter, but tried approaching it another way. "Well, you wanted to know what the rules here were. It would help me if you could give me examples. Not anything too personal though."

"Just... you know... keep things clean and don't cheat and have dinner ready, that's all. Other than. You know."

"And the consequences? Was that burn a punishment?"

Roger went cold, remembering why that had happened. His heart hammered. "I was bad," he whispered. "It... it was reasonable for him to... to... re-establish, he had to help me..."

"Oh Roger, no it wasn't. It's never reasonable for someone to hurt you, no matter what you do." Mark hugged him closer. "What was he trying to help you do?"

Roger started trembling. He hadn't meant to tell Mark any of this. He was going to be good, he was going to just help... "Be good."

"Roger, you're not bad. No one has the right to touch you if you don't want it." Mark cuddled him closely, trying to calm the young man's frayed nerves.

"What will you do if I upset you?" Roger whispered. He had to know.

"I'll talk to you and tell you why I'm upset. Maybe take away a privilege or something. I'll never hit you or do anything to hurt you." After a moment, he thought of something else. "And I'll never, ever use sex to punish you."

Roger considered all of this. It sounded very nice, much better than what he was used to. He remained subservient but that was irrelevant. "He did that, too. The privilege thing," Roger said. He needed Mark to understand something: his ex was not a bad man.

"We'll talk about the rules later, but I do have one that I can give you now," said Mark.

Roger nodded. "What is it?"

"That you tell me honestly how you feel about things. If you're uncomfortable about something or you don't agree with me you tell me. I also want to know if you're happy or upset about something. Can you do that for me?" asked Mark.

Could he? No, he couldn't. He would never, ever tell Mark if he was unhappy, and he knew that. He could pretend-- but Mark would eventually find out. "No," Roger told him, "I don't think that I can."

Mark was expecting this. Even after his short-lived affair with that particularly demanding boyfriend, it had taken him ages to feel confident enough to voice his opinions, even in situations where he had authority. "Thanks for being honest. Hopefully, in time, you'll feel more comfortable. In the mean time, I'll accept that provided that you're honest with me like you were tonight about private things. I mean it about making it about what you want."

"Are you angry that I said no? I'll sleep on the floor if you want," he murmured. Maybe Mark would just go with it. Maybe he was too tired to think of another punishment

"No, I'm not angry at all. I'm proud that you were honest with me. I'd rather know the truth than have you say yes when you really didn't mean it. You don't have to sleep on the floor." Mark pulled Roger even closer as if to prove his point.

"It's okay. He put me on the floor sometimes when I was bad. It's a... it makes sense, I mean, I don't have a lot of privileges here."

"You've done nothing wrong, so there's no need for you to go on the floor. In the morning we'll discuss privileges. And I don't consider sleeping in a bed a privilege. Sleeping on the floor interrupts your normal sleep patterns if you're not used to it."

"It's carpeted," Roger assured him. "I'll be fine," he said, "it's a lot better than some places I've slept."

"No, Roger. You're not being punished. I want you to stay on the bed with me. Please."

"Okay." He let himself relax again. As a concession, he offered, "I'll tell you the sex rules if you want."

"I'd like to hear them, but only if you're comfortable letting me know."

Roger took a deep breath. "He liked me to be loud--say his name and stuff. The basic rule was that if he was in a bad mood I should say yes. Oh, and I wasn't supposed to have an orgasm if he didn't say I could."

Mark knew it was difficult for Roger to talk about his relationship. His boyfriend sounded incredibly controlling. He probably got off on it. Mark was amazed that a seventeen-year-old could control his body that much. Or could he? "Were any of those rules hard for you to follow?" he asked.

"Not the first two," Roger said. It was easy to be loud, especially when he was allowed to come. And it was easy to say yes, even when he didn't want it--because then all he had to do was lie there.

"What happened if you broke those rules, especially the third one?" asked Mark.

"He... he'd... do things to make me be louder or... kick me off the bed or sometimes be... mean... if I said no."

"What kind of things would he do? And what do you mean by him being mean?"

"I don't know. Hit me sometimes," Roger said. That wasn't too bad, right?

"Oh Roger. I promise, I won't do that to you." Mark thought for a minute. "Did he ever let you say no? Without punishment?"

"S-sometimes," Roger said. The lie hurt... but surely... surely at least once... it just didn't come to mind, that was all.

"It's going to be different here." Mark informed him. "My only rule about sex is that you tell me what you want and what you don't want. I'm not going to stop your orgasms or ask you to service me when you're not in the mood. As for saying my name and being loud, I'll leave that up to you."

These were new concepts that Roger needed a moment to grasp. He wondered, when the time came, would he really be able to say he didn't want to? And more importantly, would Mark really not be angry?

"Do you want me to be your boyfriend, or your..." Roger trailed off, unable to think of a good word.

"I'd like to have a relationship with you, but only if you want one with me," replied Mark.

"I do. I... I think you're... a very attractive, very nice person and I want to be with you for a long time."

"I want to be with you for a long time, too."

"Can we talk about, um, some rules? Please. I want to know."

"You mean rules for you during the day. What do kind of rules do you need?"

"Like..." Roger considered. He went over his day mentally. "Like if the telephone rings. Should I answer it? Am I allowed to make calls?"

"Hmm. It's up to you if you want to answer it. I have a machine, but I don't mind if you answer. You're allowed to make calls, even long distance if you want. What else do you want to know?"

After a moment's thought, he decided to take a risk. "May I go outside?"

Mark was surprised by the question. "Of course you're allowed to go outside. Weren't you allowed outside before?"

Oops. He had been so long with his ex he sometimes forgot what was 'normal'. "W-well..." He could salvage this, he could! "Sometimes... sometimes he would... he needed to..."

Mark realized the extent of the control Roger's ex had over him. Not wanting to make him any more upset, he decided to drop the subject. "Roger, you're allowed to go out whenever you want. If you're going to be a while, it may be a good idea to leave a note or something."

"Okay. Should I cook kosher foods?" he asked. He hadn't been sure, and had tried very hard to do so.

Mark shook his head. "No. I stopped keeping kosher when I left home. My roommate in college introduced me to bacon cheeseburgers. Unless you wish to keep kosher..."

"No-- no, that's okay." He supposed Mark knew he was Jewish, or suspected as much, thanks to his nude arrival. "So my arm's okay, right? You didn't bring home a splint or anything..."

Mark frowned slightly and switched to what he thought of as doctor mode. "I actually do have a couple in my car, but I wanted to check with you first. Was it bothering you today? Be honest."

"It didn't hurt too much," he said. It had protested a little when he moved, ached, but adjusted.

Mark didn't like that. He wasn't sure how much he trusted Roger to report his injuries. "Still, I'd like you to come to the office with me. Or at least wear the soft splint and let me help you work the muscle."

"W-what, what would that entail?" he asked nervously. He didn't like how 'work the muscles' sounded.

Mark could have slapped himself for his choice of words. He quickly reassured Roger. "Oh! It's just a little massage and then I'll help you move the arm a little in order to build the muscles back. It shouldn't be painful and it will help you regain use of the arm sooner."

"Ok," Roger agreed. That sounded fine. Actually it sounded flat-out sexy. He remembered his parents telling him medicine was a sound profession. Dating a doctor was the next best thing, right? "Do you go to temple?"

"Yes, I do. I may not get there every week, but I always feel so peaceful when I go."

"Do you go to Beth Israel?" Roger asked, hardly daring hope the answer.

Mark smiled. "Yes. Do you want to come with me?"

Yes. Yes, he did-- but he didn't know that he was willing or ready. It had been years... "Maybe. I don't know. If you want me to."

Mark smiled. His last few boyfriends weren't Jewish and he had missed sharing that part of his life with someone. "I'd like you to come with me. It's nice to have someone who understands."

"Then I'd like to go," Roger decided. He suppressed a yawn, worn out by the day

Mark noticed Roger's face contort slightly and realized how tired he was. "Roger, we'll discuss any other rules and such in the morning. It's been a long day, and I'm getting kind of tired. I think we should sleep soon."

Roger nodded. "Good night, Mark."

to be continued!

Reviews would be very much appreciated