Author: Chrissy (iwantasoda)
Feedback: It’s my drug of choice
Word Count: 2,101
Rating: R for shower sex
Genre: Romance, humor, smut (Is smut a genre? Well, it is now)
Summary: It’s been five years since Rent ended, where are Roger and Mark now and what exactly is Mark hiding?
Notes: I figured I’d better do this challenge since I’ve missed the last few. I blame it on the Draco/Harry/Ron fic I’m currently writing. It’s taking up way too much time to only be part of a chapter. Written for speed_rentchallenge 16.
Special Thanks: To everyone who leaves comments. There is nothing like having a crappy day at work then coming home to comments. It makes me happy.
Warnings: M/M sex. Yeah, that’s about it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rent and its characters belong to the late Jonathan Larson.
Mark snuggled closer to the warm person in the bed beside him. He made a soft sound of protest then the person left the bed. “Where are you going?” he asked without opening his eyes.
“I have to piss,” Roger said, rolling his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom, not bothering with clothes.
“Kay,” Mark said with a yawn, opening his eyes, watching Rogers blurry figure leave the room. It was hard to believe that he and Roger had been together for three years. Who would have thought that after Mimi’s death four years ago Roger would swear off women forever. Mimi’s death had come as no surprise to anyone; she had never fully recovered from that Christmas when they almost lost her.
It was amazing how things had changed in five years. Collins had moved to Santa Fe and opened a music store in Angel’s honour and Benny and Alison had moved to Washington DC because of Alison’s job. As for Maureen and Joanne, they were still in the city, but Mark and Roger rarely saw then because they were both so busy. They had managed to adopt two children and unbelievably, Maureen was a stay at home mom while Joanne worked at a prestigious law firm. As for Roger and Mark, things were pretty much the same, well, not really. The loft no longer existed thanks to Cyber Arts Studio where Mark was in charge of film production. He and Roger were desperate for money and when Benny offered him the job, he jumped at it. Yes, it went against everything he once stood for, but money was money no matter where it came from. He and Roger shared a studio apartment not far from the studio. For once they didn’t have to worry if they were going to have a home the next day, where they money for Rogers AZT was going to come from, or if and when they were going to eat. Roger, he was still the same old songwriter, determined to write a song that the world would hear. He was actually a regular at the studio, especially at the younger kids music class. He was living through the children he would never have, not that he would ever subject a child to having him for a father.
Mark was pulled out of his early morning reflection by the feel of a pair of arms wrapping around him.
“What are you thinking about?” Roger asked, pulling Mark closer to him.
Mark shrugged. “Us, everyone else, changes we’ve been through the past five years. I still need to finish another film Roger. One movie does not a career make you know? I just-“
Roger silenced him with a kiss. “You think too much. Dammit Mark, it’s five in the morning, sleep now. You can think when the sun is up,” he offered. Who knew having to go to the bathroom would wake Marks brain up?
“Sounds good,” Mark agreed, kissing Roger softly. “Love you,” he said softly as Roger closed his eyes.
Roger grunted in response as Mark laid his head on Roger’s chest, falling asleep almost instantly.
<center>The Next Morning</center>
Mark reached over and slapped at the buzzing alarm clock, finally hitting the right button and silence filled the apartment once again. He slipped his glasses on before glancing over at Roger who was still sleeping soundly. Mark managed to make it out of bed and to the bathroom without waking Roger up, just like most mornings. He locked the door behind him, sighing as he ran a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. He opened the cabinet under the sink, popping the loose tile out and grabbing the hidden bottle of medicine. It had been nine months since Mark found out he had AIDS and he hadn’t had the heart to tell Roger. He hated hiding it, but knowing would only hurt Roger more, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d tell Roger if he had to, but he wasn’t planning on it being anytime soon.
Mark jumped when Roger pounded on the door. “Can I join you?”
“Did you take your AZT?” Mark asked, hastily hiding his own medicine.
“No, I forgot,” Roger said sheepishly, leaning against the closed bathroom door.
“Take your AZT then ask me again,” Mark teased. He heard Roger walk away and unlocked the door before turning the shower on. “Took you long enough,” he complained with the bathroom door finally opened.
“Couldn’t find my medicine,” Roger said with a shrug, closing the door behind him.
“You wanna…?” Mark asked with a sly smile, wrapping his arms around Roger's neck.
“Don’t I always?” Roger asked, capturing Marks lips with his own as they made their way to the shower, allowing the hot water to wash over their skin.
“God Roger,” Mark groaned as Roger fell to his knees before taking Marks penis in his hand. He flicked his thumb over the head teasingly as he looked up at Mark who was already leaning against the shower wall for support. Mark buried his hands in Roger's hair, gasping softly when Roger ran his tongue down the vein on the underside of his penis. “Roger please,” Mark practically begged and at last, Roger took all of Mark into his mouth, sucking gently at first and then harder when Mark started babbling incoherently. Mark groaned in frustration when Roger released his throbbing penis and stood up, neither of them noticing the changing water temperature.
“Turn around,” Roger said breathlessly as he reached for the bottle of lube they always kept in the shower. Mark obediently did so, resting his flushed cheek against the cool tile wall.
“Just the bare minimum Rog, can’t hold out much longer,” somehow Mark managed to string together a coherent sentence as roger slid a finger into him. Roger nodded, nipping Marks shoulder lightly with his teeth before pushing Marks legs farther apart. Roger moaned when he easily slid into Mark with one hard thrust.
“God you’re always so tight,” he said softly, sucking on the skin at the base of Marks neck as he found his rhythm, brushing Marks prostate with each thrust.
“Fuck, Roger, god, please,” Mark chanted softly, his knees going weak as his release washed over him, relying on Roger to hold him up. Roger thrust into Mark one last time, moaning his name and gripping his hips tightly as he came.
“Ow,” Mark complained softly, rubbing sore and red hips as Roger slid out of him.
Roger ran his hands over the sore area gently. “That’s going to leave bruises, sorry Marky,” he said, kissing Mark lazily as the cold water pelted their heated skin.
“I don’t mind,” Mark said with a shrug, shivering slightly.
Roger frowned and turned the icy water off before handing Mark one of the thick fluffy towels. “Get dressed. I just got you over a cold, I don’t want you to get sick again,” Roger ordered as he wrapped a towel around his waist.
“Yes Mother,” Mark said, rolling his eyes as he followed Roger to their bedroom, enjoying the view of Rogers towel clad ass.
“Someone has to take care of you,” Roger said, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and Mark?”
“Stop staring at my ass.”
“Never,” Mark said with a laugh as he dug for some clean clothes.
“Do you have to go to work today? You could play hooky and stay home and we could stay in bed all day,” Roger bribed, not in the mood to be alone.
Mark sighed. “Can’t. I volunteered to direct the spring musical. We’re doing The Wizard of Oz,” he said with a chuckle, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
“Uh-huh. And what ages are we talking about here?” Roger asked as he put a pair of jeans on.
“Um, like four to twenty,” Mark said, putting his shoes on. “What to help?” he asked hopefully.
“Not really. You volunteered so you’re on your own Mr. Director,” Roger said with a laugh, dodging the pillow that Mark threw at him.
“Roger, before I forget. That bottle of lube in the bathroom is all we have,” Mark hinted as he slipped on a light jacket and picked up his scarf.
“That’s my cue to buy more isn’t it? Fine, you’re lucky I didn’t have any plans today Cohen,” Roger teased, kissing Mark.
“I’ll be home eventually if those damned kids don’t kill me first,” Mark joked as he walked out the door.
When Mark returned home that night, he was unsurprised to find Roger sitting on the couch strumming his guitar idly. That damned old tattered couch was the only thing that remained from the loft. Roger had stubbornly refused to part with it, so Mark relented, allowing it to follow them to their new home like a lost puppy. Mark didn’t even bother saying anything to Roger, he knew better, especially when Roger was wearing the patented ‘talk to me and die’ expression on his face. He simply went into the bedroom, changing into a pair of pyjama bottoms and one of Roger’s tee shirts before noticing the brown paper bag lying on the bed.
Mark picked up the bag, laughing when he pulled out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. “Not in a million years Roger, not since you lost the key last time. We were lucky we had Collins to get me free,” he called out, knowing Roger would hear him.
“You’re no fun,” Roger complained as Mark sneezed. “You’re getting sick again,” he said accusingly as Mark walked out of the bedroom.
“I’m fine,” Mark insisted, planting a kiss on the top of Roger’s head.
The weeks flew by, Mark spending less and less time at home with Roger and more and more time working on the musical. Roger was worried about Mark for once instead of the other way around and Roger was not happy about that at all. Mark was sick and grouchy, therefore Roger was grouchy and anyone who looked at either of them wrong got an ass chewing– including Marks cast and crew.
“You’re home early,” Roger said, looking up from the television in surprise when Mark walked in the door about three in the afternoon.
“Shove it Roger,” Mark muttered, sitting on the couch next to him.
Roger kissed Marks forehead, used to his moods. “You’re burning up,” he said softly, replacing his lips with his hand.
“I feel like shit,” Mark finally admitted, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch.
“Told you that you’d crash eventually. You’ve been working like crazy Mark. Take a few days off,” Roger said, pulling Mark closer to him, his face full of worry.
“Sure, whatever,” Mark murmured softly, just wanting to sleep.
When Mark opened his eyes, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, the only thing he knew is that something was beeping and it was bugging him, well that and he couldn’t see anything thanks to his lack of glasses. He lay there quietly, when it suddenly the smell hit him, he was in a fucking hospital with no clue how he got there.
“You’re awake,” Roger said softly, his face lighting up when he noticed Marks eyes were open. He handed over Marks glasses; answering one of his unspoken questions but not the other.
“What happened?” Mark asked as he slipped his glasses on and turned his attention to Roger.
“You passed out on me last night. You scared me Marky,” he said, squeezing Marks hand. “Never scare me like that again. I can’t lose you,” he pleaded, brushing his knuckles with a kiss.
Mark smiled slightly. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know I was that sick,” he said quietly, wondering how much Roger knew.
Roger leaned in, kissing Marks cheek before whispering in his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, that.” Mark sighed, not sure how to answer. “I don’t know Roger. It just seemed easier to keep quiet, I mean we both knew it was coming, but I just didn’t know how to tell you,” he said with a shrug, his eyes never leaving Rogers.
“No more secrets. Life is too short for that,” Roger said, unable to be mad at Mark when he just looked so damned cute lying there.
“Well, in that case. Roger… I’m pregnant,” Mark joked, a look of relief crossing his face when Roger started laughing.
“Me too. We’re good at baby making huh?” Roger asked, brushing Marks hair out of his face, knowing that he was going to be okay.