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?

After he pulled out of the parking lot at the mall, Mark headed downtown. "I'm taking you to my favorite restaurant. It's a little fancier than the places most teenagers like, but the food is excellent. It's Italian food, so there should be something you like on the menu, but they don't have pizza, or they didn't the last time I was here."

Roger smiled. He couldn't help it. "I like being talked to like that-- treated like that," he told Mark softly. "Like... I'm normal." He shifted, finding comfort within the safety of the seatbelt. "Do they have pasta?" he asked. As much as Roger loved pizza-- gooey-messy-tasty-melting-burning-crunchy-greasy pizza -- he loved some more grown-up foods, too... although he was still messy with spaghetti type noodles.

"All kinds. The have more fancy things too, like veal or eggplant parmigiana." Mark soon pulled in front of the restaurant. It wasn't so fancy that a coat and tie were required, but it was more upscale than most of the other places in town. It's small size made reservations necessary. Mark liked the food, but it was the small touches that made this place his favorite. There were candles and checkered tablecloths on the tables. The wait staff were attentive and would bring menus without price listings if requested. Mark had brought other dates here before, and they didn't bat an eyelash at two men sharing a romantic dinner together, which was rare in Scarsdale. He got out of the car and led Roger to the door.

Roger followed Mark into the restaurant. He liked the tablecloths, too, but for a different reason. They reminded him of the outside tablecloth his mom used in summer--it was red and white checked and plastic; they cleaned it off with a sponge and they always drank lemonade and kool-aid. The tablecloth relaxed him.

The Maitre D' recognized Mark and escorted them to a table near the kitchen. As he left, Mark leaned and made a request to bring the menus without prices. He didn't want Roger to feel guilty about the cost of the meal. He wanted to make sure that Roger would order what he would enjoy instead of picking the cheapest items on the menu.

Which is precisely what Roger would have done, had he seen the menus with the prices on them. Luckily he didn't hear Mark making the request. "What's your favorite thing here?" he asked.

"It depends on a lot of things. In the summer I like their lighter things like salads and pastas tossed with oil. In the winter, I eat their heavier dishes with more meat or cream sauces. Their manicotti is excellent, but so is the chicken parmigiana and the lasagna." Mark chuckled. "I guess I didn't answer your question."

Roger smiled. "That's ok," he said softly. "Do you think they can substitute in different types of pasta?"

"Sure. I do that all the time. But they won't for things that take a long time to make like lasagna."

He smiled. What he really wanted was fettuccini Alfredo, without fettuccini, maybe with fusili or something. Fettuccini reminded him too much of tape worms. "What are you going to have?"

"Since it's cold out, I feel like something rich. Perhaps the veal piccata. I haven't had that for a while."

Four years ago, Roger had learned what veal was. Since then he hadn't eaten it and usually when hearing it mentioned launched into a tirade... but not since Robert. He just nodded and folded his menu shut.

Mark watched Roger's behavior and saw him withdraw the slightest bit. He had a suspicion about the problem, as one of his previous dates had a similar reaction when Mark ate veal. The man was a vegetarian and had become almost violent when he ordered. Needless to say, the relationship ended that night. Mark usually tried to be sensitive, but his date's rally cry to free all cows bordered on crazy. Roger wasn't so comfortable in vocalizing opposition, so Mark figured he should ask. "Roger, are you comfortable with me eating veal? I won't get it if it upsets you."

It wasn't something Roger understood. Since being with Robert, although he never voiced his opinion, he found veal more and more despicable. It was the victimization. Roger knew how it felt to be immobilized. He knew what it was like to want for so long the yearning rent the soul. "It's fine."

Mark wasn't so sure it was fine. As a doctor, he had learned to read small behaviors in order to get the whole picture. Roger was obviously uncomfortable, even though his words said otherwise. Mark knew it was a strain for him to be out with him, so he decided not to order the offending dish. "You know, on second thought I think I'll get the baked ravioli with meat sauce. I'm not sure lemon goes with the cold weather."

Roger knew why Mark was changing his order and it made him flush hot all over, wishing he could have better hidden his true feelings. He hated to inconvenience him. "I... I don't like... thinking about it," he said. "About something being trapped like that." It wasn't veal, but it was the truth, and--Roger hoped--just compensation.

Mark nodded and wondered if he should talk about the Vegetarian Vigilante, as he now thought of him, but their waiter returned before he could say anything. "I'll have the antipasto platter for an appetizer, baked ravioli with meat sauce and a salad of winter greens with balsamic vinaigrette for to accompany. Sparkling grape juice to drink, please."

Roger found that his throat was suddenly very dry and constricted. Mark belonged so perfectly here, it made Roger feel... insufficient. Wrong. "Sprite, please," he said softly. His stomach had twisted itself into knots.

"And to eat sir?" the waiter prompted.

"Just order your main course," suggested Mark. "The antipasto platter is big enough for two. I'm going to need help finishing it."

Roger looked to Mark, giving him his best begging look. "I'm not hungry," he said softly, hoping Mark heard the desperation Roger was afraid to explain. He was suddenly very nervous.

Mark furrowed his brow in concern. "If you don't finish we can always bring home the leftovers. Is there something you want to try?" He could sense Roger's unease but wasn't sure why he was suddenly so uncomfortable. He also hated to be the only person at the table eating. It just seemed rude to him.

Roger shook his head. It was happening again, another panic attack creeping up. He felt sweat on his forehead and shoulders, always an indicator. His arms felt too heavy to move. He quickly named the only thing he could think of. "Lasagna, please. And where's the restroom?"

"Down the hallway to the right," said the waiter, pointing in the right direction.

"Thank you." Roger hopped up from the table and bolted. He locked himself in the bathroom. Once there, he soaked a paper towel and held it against his face, sighing as the cold water relaxed him. He wasn't ready to go outside, but he was breathing again and that had to count for something. Swiftly, Roger began a methodical search for something he could use to calm himself down.

Mark waited at the table. The drinks and appetizer arrived, so he started nibbling. After several minutes he started to become concerned. He doubted that Roger was physically ill but something was wrong. He decided that it probably would be best for him to check on Roger. He walked to the rest room and knocked on the door. "Roger?" he called.

Roger had curled himself up in the corner after a failed attempt to burn himself on a stick of incense. He managed to extinguish the incense but did not harm himself. This left him with only toilet paper and liquid soap. When Mark knocked, he looked up from the corner. "Y-yeah?"

"Are you alright? You've been gone a long time."

"I'm fine," he assured Mark. Nothing to worry about.

"Will you be much longer?"

"D-do you need me?" he asked.

Mark thought for a moment. He didn't really need Roger to come, but he didn't want him to stay too much longer. He decided to be truthful. "I don't exactly need you, but I'm getting a little bit lonely out here. Are you sure you're alright?"

Roger bit his hand and whimpered softly. He didn't feel safe... he didn't feel like he could breathe. But Mark's comfort was his first concern. Roger rose and opened the door.

Mark could tell immediately that Roger was anything but fine. There was a sheen of sweat on his skin and his breath was shallow and irregular. Mark recognized the early signs of an anxiety attack. He reached out and drew Roger into a hug, then guided him back to the table. "Breathe slowly. In. Out. In. Out." He continued the chant until Roger was sitting at the table. Mark went to the coat rack and took out a small bottle. He had decided before Temple to bring the Adivan that David had prescribed in case Roger needed it. He shook out a pill and handed it to Roger with a glass of water.

Roger had some trouble swallowing. The first time he tried the pill was hacked back up, but he popped it back in his mouth and tried again, this time getting it down. He wiped the sticky spit off his hand, where he'd coughed up the pill. "Thank you," he managed to tell Mark. This has not been a fantastic day out.

Mark was actually very proud that Roger had made it so far without having to take a pill. "Keep breathing and just relax until it gets into your system," he advised. "You did well today. That was the first time you were in a crowd since you left his place, wasn't it?"

Roger nodded. He took a sip of water and tried to control his breathing, inhaling to the count of three, holding it, exhaling three. It was working a little bit. "Since leaving home," he amended Mark's earlier comment. With Robert, Roger was never in a crowd. Sometimes Robert had friends over, but there were never too many people.

"What set you off just now?" Mark asked. "You were fine at Temple, but that I can understand since it's familiar. You were only a little anxious at the mall, but here you seemed to break down. Do you know why you started to panic?"

Roger shook his head. "I don't know," he said. He truly didn't. "It... reminded me of home... there was the thing with veal... I don't belong... I don't know," Roger summarized finally. He didn't know what had happened, but once it started, he knew the presence of an outside party took the situation swiftly from bad to worse.

Mark accepted that. He didn't have a lot of experience dealing with anxiety attacks. Usually, he'd refer his patients to David or another psychologist in the area. The advantage of private practice was that the patients could afford to go elsewhere if need be. Mark took a couple of bites of the appetizer. "Will you be alright to stay to eat?" he enquired.

Roger nodded. "Can I eat?" he asked. He wouldn't have been completely surprised if Mark said no after a display like that. Still, as Roger calmed down the presence of food made his stomach growl.

"Of course you may eat!" Mark said. Mark realized that Roger had some issues with food and knew he ate less when he lived with Robert, but he wondered how much of that was restrictions Robert had imposed upon Roger. He couldn't imagine withholding food as a punishment. People needed to eat. Mark indicated the antipasto with his hands. "Dig in. Have you ever had antipasto before?"

Roger shook his head. He took a piece of cheese off the plate and nibbled at it, then smiled. It tasted good. "This is good," he murmured. He continued nibbling, enjoying the food.

Mark was happy that Roger could relax a little. Soon the food came. He bit into one of the cheese-filled pillows of his dish and savored the flavor. It was exactly what he wanted on such a cold night. "Mmm... this is heavenly," he commented. "How's the lasagna?"

"It's ok," Roger replied without even thinking. He hasn't even tasted it yet, but that didn't matter. He took a bite. It was delicious, he had to admit, and felt good in his stomach. He ate faster.

Mark dug into his ravioli and salad and watched Roger consume his meal. He was happy that Roger enjoyed the food. The pill seemed to be working as Roger was not nearly as tense as he had been. "I think I've found a new dish to add to my list of favorites," he commented.

Roger glanced to Mark. He swallowed a half-chewed bite of lasagna. "Ravioli?" he asked. He was cutting his food as he asked, and once the sounds were out of his mouth Roger stuffed in the lasagna. He wasn't stopping until he had finished eating.

Mark nodded. He had a feeling that Roger was attempting to get out of there as quickly as possible, even though he was feeling better. Mark was relieved that Roger felt up to eating. He had been concerned. He knew that it would be a long time before Roger was truly at ease in public, but at least he could somewhat enjoy their first date. "Do you want to try a bite?" Mark asked.

Roger nodded. "Yes, please," he said. Mark's ravioli did look good. "You can try some of mine," he offered in return, more than glad to share his lasagna if Mark wanted it. "It's very good," he added.

"I'd love to try it." Mark held out a bite of Ravioli on his fork to Roger. "Shall we feed each other?"

Roger blushed. He speared a bite of lasagna and held it out for Mark in response. He couldn't stop blushing. The traditional cuteness of the act made Roger feel completely un-self-conscious, and completely Mark's.

Mark leaned in and took the bite from the fork. It was good lasagna. "Mmm..." He smacked his lips. "They really know how to make it here."

Roger smiled. He bit the ravioli off the fork, chewed and swallowed. "This is fantastic. You really know how to pick a good restaurant!" Roger praised.

"I'm glad you like it. I figured it would be a good place for a first date." Mark ate a few more bites of ravioli. "I kind of stumbled upon this place a few years ago. I know some other places you might also enjoy."

Roger smiled. "You're very sweet." He started to take another bite, and found that he didn't want to. "Could we take this home?" he asked. "I can't finish."

Mark nodded. "I'm getting a little full myself." He waved the waiter over and, in a low voice, asked him to box up the meals. He also requested him to wrap two slices of the restaurant's specialty cheesecake to take with them.

In a few minutes the waiter returned with the check and three take-away containers. Mark paid with his credit card without glancing at the bill. He didn't want Roger to see the total and he thought that if he didn't know himself, there was less chance of Roger finding out exactly how upscale this restaurant was. Once the bill had been settled, he put on his coat and offered Roger his arm. "May I escort you home?"

Roger smiled and rested his hand on Mark's arm like he had seen done in the movies. He felt heat and calm radiate from Mark's body and wash over him. His airways felt open completely for the first time since they left for temple that morning. As he followed Mark to the car, Roger caught himself smiling. The snow was falling; he saw it stick to his bangs and felt it on any exposed inch of skin. This much outdoor activity was foreign, and felt good.

Mark guided Roger to the car, and being caught up in the moment, opened the door for him. Once Roger had seated himself inside the vehicle, Mark shut the door and got in the driver's side. The roads were a bit slippery, so Mark drove slowly, following the familiar streets. "I had a great time tonight," Mark said. "I think our first date was a success."

"Yes," Roger agreed. If he overlooked the minor panic attack in the bathroom, he would say it went off without a hitch. "If I had just met you, Mark, I would most certainly go out with you again," Roger informed him. He shifted awkwardly on his chair. "I... it's hard to believe you were single. You're amazing."

Mark blushed. "Thanks, Roger. That means a lot to me." The past couple of years had been difficult for Mark dating-wise. He'd only been on a few dates. Scarsdale only had a small gay population and Mark was wary of the club scene in the city. He was fortunate have a great guy practically fall in his lap. Mark could already feel a deep connection with Roger, one that transcended the age difference or the pain in both their lives. He could image a future with Roger, something that he never experienced with his previous lovers. "Although I wish you didn't have to be hurt for it to happen, I'm very grateful that you came to me."

Roger smiled. He had to agree, at least partly. When he looked back, though, he could not imagine his life had he not met Robert. He didn't know who he would be. Roger accepted what had happened, as twisted as his comprehension of the facts was. "I'm glad I met you, too." Roger imagined a future with Mark. He wasn't sure what the future would bring, how he wanted his life to be, but he knew he wanted to spend it with Mark.

Mark steered the car around the corner and drove up his street. The snowman on the front lawn made the house look very inviting. A dusting of snow was on its carrot nose. The timers had turned on the lights, so although the sky was dark, the house looked warm and inviting. For a moment, Mark could almost picture a dog and two or three children playing in the yard. He pulled into the driveway. "Watch your step going into the house. I bet it's icy."

Roger nodded. He unbuckled his seatbelt, then asked, "What can I carry?" He knew Mark had quite a few bags in the back of the car. Roger would have been happy to carry all of them, even if it took a few trips. He realized he didn't want Mark carry things. It wasn't that he feared Mark would punish him. Rather, Roger wanted to take care of Mark.

Mark picked up the takeout containers and then pointed out the clothing bags in the car. "Could you get those other bags from the backseat, too?"

Roger took the containers of food from Mark, then grabbed the bags from the back. Once he was carrying everything, he headed up to the house. Roger tried to be careful, but icy paths and growing boys don't mix. Roger held the bags aloft as his knees crashed to the floor. "OOw. Um. Mark? C-could you help me up, please?" he asked. Roger was afraid to move his arms in case the bags fell in the snow, leaving him in a sort of "touchdown" pose.

Mark went over and grabbed half of the bags with one arm and pulled Roger up with the other. "Are you hurt?" he asked as they made their way carefully to the front door.

Roger shook his head. "I'm fine," he assured Mark. When he reached the door, Roger felt a victorious surge. He had made it! And only fell down once! This was coupled with the relief of being home after a long day.

Mark was also relieved to be home. He had enjoyed the day, especially the date with Roger. "Why don't you hang up your new clothes," suggested Mark. "I can put the leftovers from the restaurant away while you do that."

At first Roger's instinct was to nod, then he looked upstairs and hesitated. It was dark upstairs. They hadn't been home all day, and it was dark, and someone-- Robert -- someone could be up there waiting for him... "M-maybe..." But he didn't want Mark to go upstairs alone, either. "Maybe can I stay with you?"

Mark nodded, but he was confused. "What's wrong?" he asked. He was concerned with Roger's sudden lack of confidence. Why didn't he want to go upstairs?

"Nothing," Roger replied quickly. He didn't know how to explain it to Mark. He didn't know how to tell him what it was like to know he was safe and still be afraid.

Mark didn't quite believe him but decided it would be best to let it slide and talk to him later. "Let's put the food away first, then hang up our new clothes."

Roger nodded. That was much better. "Thank you." He took the food towards the kitchen and turned on the light shortly before stepping into the kitchen. Roger thought his heart would burst. Then the room was empty, and he could breathe again. He placed the leftover pasta and, unbeknownst to him, the cake into the refrigerator. The issue of going upstairs scared him, though. He didn't know what to do. Sure, his logical mind knew there was no one upstairs, but he couldn't reason himself out of his fear. Mark wasn't scared, and Roger's inclination was to let him go upstairs first, but if there was something wrong, it was his fault if something happened, if...

Mark followed behind Roger and separated the food containers from the other packages. "I got dessert as well. I know we're both full, but I thought it would be a nice treat for later."

"That sounds good," Roger murmured. He was a strong supporter of all things sweetened and dessert-qualifying.

They put the containers in the fridge. Mark took a few of the other packages and started towards the stairs. "When we get these put away, how about sitting on couch and watching an old movie?"

Roger felt tired, but he wanted to spend more time with Mark. Sleeping beside someone built a strong emotional connection. Mark's mere presence relaxed Roger, and he knew that was more than what passed between when they were awake. He nodded. "That sounds nice," he said. "What would you like to watch?"

Mark thought for a moment. "I'm kind of in the mood for a musical. How about The Sound of Music?"

"That sounds nice," Roger said again. "I like The Sound of Music." He had liked it even when he was small and didn't completely understand it.

"I always get a kick out of the nuns stealing the car parts. Not to mention that Captain von Trap is rather handsome. I think he was my first crush."

Roger grinned. "I love those nuns," he said. His favorite part was when they confessed but didn't try to fix the car. The morality interested him. "I like that song, too. Edelweiss."

"Yeah, me too. Most of the songs are pretty good. I used to sing I Have Confidence before exams and job interviews to psyche myself up."

He smiled. "I bet it worked, too," Roger said. He had used a lucky toy when he was younger, a little metal soldier.

Mark nodded. "Most of the time, it did. I didn't always get the job but it helped me to relax enough to do my best. I also remember doing a skit with Do Re Mi at a language camp during college. We borrowed the curtains from the dorms and made up new words to the song."

"Do you still remember the words?" Roger asked. He also wondered how the curtains had been used. Were they substituted for stage curtains? Toga'd? But he didn't ask. It seemed potentially offensive.

Mark shook his head. "Sorry. It's been about ten years. I can remember how scratchy the curtains felt against my skin, though. Let this be a lesson to you: never wear a kilt made from dorm room curtains."

Roger pressed his hand to his mouth and laughed. He imagined Mark wearing a skirt made from flower'd curtains. "I'll remember that," he promised Mark.

"You better! Unfortunately, I was somewhat of a purist when it came to kilts and was allergic to the detergent they used to wash them. The rash didn't go away for two weeks! Roger, learn from my experience so my suffering will not be for nought!" Mark made a dramatic gesture and kneeled before Roger. "Promise me you will not repeat my mistake!"

Mark's story made Roger laugh more and more. He imagined the allergic reaction there, and how uncomfortable poor Mark would be. When Mark knelt the position made Roger uncomfortable. He still thought sexual things about Mark, but this made him blush. He knelt down and hugged Mark. "I'll never wear an allergic sheet kilt," he promised.

"Then my life's work is complete. I have spared you the agony of my youth." Mark returned the hug then stood up. "Now, shall we watch the movie?"

Roger smiled and nodded. He stood and brushed his knees. "C-could I get a blanket?" he asked softly. It was a cold night, after all.

Mark smiled. "Good idea. It's rather chilly. Do you want hot chocolate?"

Yes, please. I'll get a blanket upstairs," he murmured. Roger wanted to look into every room upstairs; he wanted to be completely certain there was no one and nothing lurking. He made a hurried but thorough check and returned a few minutes later carrying a warm blanket.

It took Mark a few minutes to heat the milk for the hot chocolate. While he waited, he got the cheesecake out of the fridge and put it on plates. He then mixed the milk with the hot chocolate mix and put everything on a tray. He managed to get back to the living room without spilling anything. He placed the tray on the coffee table, stuck the tape in the VCR and joined Roger on the couch. "I brought our desert, too."

Roger smiled. "It all looks great," he said. "Thank you, Mark." He picked up a mug of hot chocolate and wrapped his hands around it, warmed by the hot liquid within. "Mmm." Roger inhaled the steam, then took a sip. "'mazing."

Mark took a sip of his own mug and nodded in agreement. "There's nothing like drinking hot chocolate and cuddling on the couch with someone you love on a cold night." To emphasize his point, he put his arm around Roger. He pressed play on the remote control and the two sat in silence for a while, absorbed in the story on screen.

Roger wrapped the blanket around his and Mark's shoulders. As the film progressed he found himself leaning more and more against Mark, his eyes slowly closing. It had been a long day. It wasn't long before Roger was putting most of his weight on Mark. He moaned and let himself lie down with his head in Mark's lap. He didn't even ask, afraid Mark would say no.

Mark smiled, happy that Roger felt comfortable enough to fall asleep on him. He continued to watch the movie and stroked Roger's soft hair. He felt happier than he had been in a long time. He could easily see himself with Roger in this position years from now. He glanced down at Roger. While he was sleeping in Mark's lap, he appeared innocent and peaceful. Mark said a silent prayer that one day, he'd be at peace while he was awake as well.

After the movie ended, Mark wondered what to do with Roger. He didn't want to wake him up, so he slid out from under him. He put the unfinished cheesecake in the fridge and the mugs in the sink and then came back to the couch. He bent down and gathered up Roger. He was surprisingly light, so Mark carried him up the stairs.

to be continued!

Reviews would be very much appreciated... please?