AUTHOR'S NOTE: My brain has been eaten by the production of Rent that is currently playing at the Stratford Festival in Stratford, Ontario, Canada. Go to my profile to view the sheer adorableness of this Mark and Roger. (You will not regret it. The cuteness will overwhelm you.)
But I have shipped them hard since 1997, so this is nothing new, even in this Year of our Lord 2023. The song Mark sings is "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden. I know it came out in 1997, so either we pretend the boys didn't get it together and realize their love until then, or we just ignore the date and pretend it was an early 90s song.
Mark lay flat on his back, his eyes closed as he tried to slow his breathing, and Roger was lying on his side, leaning on one elbow as he stroked the smaller boy's hair with his free hand.
Slowly, the filmmaker opened his eyes and spoke to the ceiling amidst still-panting breaths.
"My boyfriend is very good with his hands," he murmured. "And his mouth. And…" He trailed off, blushing fiercely. "...and other things."
" 'Other things'?" the taller boy repeated teasingly. "Such as?"
Ignoring the question, Mark sighed contentedly. "God, I love saying that."
"You love saying that I'm good at other things?"
"No," his roommate corrected, and his cheeks went from pink to crimson. "My boyfriend, Roger…"
Roger grinned. "My boyfriend is extremely fucking adorable when he gets all blushy."
Mark's reacting laugh sounded suspiciously like a giggle. For a long moment, both boys just gazed at each other adoringly until Roger suddenly shook his head to himself.
"We are turning into girls, Cohen," he said disgustedly.
Mark laughed. "Maureen would murder you if she heard that."
"Not women," his boyfriend corrected. "Girls. Like… 14-year-old girls who spend all their time giggling over the boys they like and making fucking Savage Garden mixtapes with their favourite lyrics written on the cases."
A mischievous grin crept over Mark's face as he flipped onto his side to face Roger.
"I want to stand with you on a mountaaaainnnn…" he sang under his breath.
"NO," Roger interrupted firmly, but his lover kept singing, slightly off key as he struggled to keep from laughing.
"I want to bathe with you in the seaaaa…."
"Absolutely not. Stop that right now, Mark."
"I want to lay like this foreeeverrrrr…" Mark paused his impromptu serenade. "Actually, that part's pretty accurate."
"Oh my God." The taller boy rolled his eyes. "You are such a girl."
"You mean you don't want to lay like this forever?" The filmmaker made a faux-pouty face, and Roger couldn't stop himself from smiling.
"Maybe." He pulled Mark closer and ran his fingers through his hair. "So yeah. Like I said. We are both turning into sappy, lovestruck teenaged girls. You know that boy Mark with the camera and the scarf? He is, like, soooo cute!"
"No way!" Mark answered indignantly. "That guy Roger who's in that band that played at the talent show is totally the hottest boy at school. If he kissed me, I would like, die, or at least faint or something."
Roger inched closer to close the tiny gap between them and kissed Mark soundly.
"Don't die," he warned with a grin. "Or faint."
"I can't make any promises," Mark replied with a smirk, and pulled Roger back towards him to return the kiss.
"You're lucky you're good at this, Cohen," Roger murmured between increasingly heated kisses, "or I would have to ask you how the hell you know the lyrics to that fucking song."
"I could sing it again," Mark suggested, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.
"Not a chance." The songwriter yanked his boyfriend down and proceeded to shut him up, and from the sounds that escaped from Mark as he did, Roger knew that he would not have to deal with being serenaded with bad love songs for at least a little while.
- END -