You Win: 4/7

[bluetears07]

Title: A Little Business
Author: Bluetears07
Pairing: Mark/Roger
Rating: R
Summary: Maybe if Mark had followed his parents wishes and studied business, things would have been so much easier. Well, maybe.
Notes: Originally attempt for Speed_rent (Challenge: a character has the chance to go back in time and change one thing. How present change as a result?)…little poetic lisence, nothing dramatic, just info you can’t 100% get from the play. A lot of making out, strange? Oh, and Alison Grey ships Mark/Roger ya’ll!
Disclaimer: Don’t own, not my characters.

A Little Business

The thick collar of Alison’s knee length mink coat was beginning to make her sweat in a most unladylike fashion. Hot, sticky strands of dark fur where clinging to her flushed skin as she tugged anxiously at the pelt. However, it was not entirely unwelcome. It was something new and exhilarating that she had never really experienced before, being caught up in someone else so entirely that she had nearly forgotten herself. Traipsing jauntily through the long apartment building corridor, she allowed the coat to drop away, hanging elegantly around her middle and caught skillfully on her bent elbows. The sheen of sweat was beginning to cool against her warm skin. Glancing up at her date, Alison fluttered her Maybelline eyelashes a few times to get his attention as soon as he stopped talking about the good neighborhood. With a dramatically content sigh she leaned against him, pulling his arm closer to her body and twining their hands together.

“Oh Benny-wenny,” the short hairs on the back of Benny’s neck stood on end. He took a deep breath, swallowing back the rush of revulsion upon hearing the pet name as soon as he looked down into her huge eyes. Vapid pools of murky blue-green staring up at him with unadulterated adoration, flawlessly threaded through with the best of intentions. “I cannot wait to see your darling little apartment,” she cooed, giving Benny’s hand a little squeeze as he smiled back down at her with a haughty grin that her father would definitely disapprove of if he had seen the telltale glint in the man’s eyes. There was something in her voice that told Benny she did not have the faintest idea she was condescending to him with her remark. Thousands of people in New York City would kill to have his and Mark’s apartment, not to mention all of the unique and needlessly extravagant paraphernalia that they had filled it with over the years.

“I know that it’s nothing like your East Hampton estate,” Benny felt himself forced to ‘warn’ her with an odd twinge to his words, but still managing to bite back the small trace of defensiveness. The words hung in the air for a moment as Alison considered them for a moment. A slow smile broke out over Benny’s face as he continued speaking, watching the awe shift around in Alison’s eyes as she walked beside him, enraptured. “But I know you’re simply going to love the interior décor,” that was at least one thing he had going for him, style. Even if she had more space and a larger expense account Alison’s personal decorator most likely had nothing on Mark’s flare for aesthetics—maybe that was one of the reason he was always being called in for commercials at AgencySacks, get the visual shot right for the ad. Whatever it was, Benny knew it was pure genius how everything in their apartment meshed together fluidly into a perfect living environment for two successful young men. A real art form almost, but much more sensible than painting or scribbling inane stories down on flimsy paper. “My roommate, you know Mark,” he paused to see a light of recognition ignite.

“Oh, yes,” she said, her entire face brightening with a large smile. “How is that sweetheart doing,” she inquired with surprising sincerity. Truth be told, she first begun talking to Benny when she noticed him and Mark arrive together at some party in hopes of getting closer to the blonde. Looking back, she realized that it was something about the clear color of his eyes that had drawn her in, so guarded and cold. She though he could be an interesting challenge, try and crack the boy with ice eyes that could pin your very soul down and examine it so perfectly he could call out your every flaw without speaking more than two words to you. But, after chatting with Benny for over two hours and not finding herself bored to tears by what he had to say, not to mention the growing attraction she felt plucking at her delicate little heartstrings, she forgot entirely about pursuing Mark. After all, Benny was easy to understand; he only had two angles, love and money. Mark, well, Alison couldn’t even begin to number off all the different directions that boy was spiraling off into.

Now Mark was just an intriguing young man that happened to be rooming with her new boyfriend.

“He was a little, dare I say, intoxicated at our last dinner party,” Alison added quietly as they came to a stop in front of the apartment door. A slight wince crossed her soft features; drawing two finely plucked eyebrows together in a wide angled V. Benny’s heart gave a little empathetic kick. Alison always hated to see people she liked following her lush of a mother’s footsteps.

“He’s doing very well,” Benny answered slowly, knowing it to be entirely true but he would have said anything in that moment to wipe away the expression on his sweet Alison’s face. “A bit busy with his work lately,” he added, feeling the bubble of guilt relaxing a bit. Stalling for a moment he searched his pockets for the apartment key. “But,” he began just as his fingertip hit metal, “I think it’s also because he found himself a new girlfriend,” that got a wide smile from Alison.

Benny had been suspecting it for a couple weeks now, though he had yet to meet the lucky lady. Whenever Mark was with a girl, no matter how rare those times were, he always got the same way. Usually he was snappy, fidgety but strangely enough had more of a sense of humor than normal, though it was a little dark. However, Benny was quickly adding a growing number of other symptoms to his list, his favorite being the surprisingly charming mood Mark would be in during the morning. Mark had neither been an affectionate person nor a morning person, so the other day, when he came home to change before work—another telltale sign—and he was all warm smiles and genuine niceties, Benny knew he had had sex with someone special.

“Anyways,” he said getting back on topic as he slid the key into the lock and turned it. “He’s the one who decorated the place, he picked everything out from the Pottery Bar—” Benny cut himself off as he heard an odd squeaking noise that sounded like springs jostling. Beside him, Alison shifted anxiously wondering what had caused Benny to stop. He waited a moment before hearing the sound again and knew it was coming from the living room. A sly grin tugged up the corners of Benny’s lips before he could check himself, forgetting to register an affronted look at exposing his dear Alison to whatever ungodly thing Mark was doing to some girl on their posh couch. Whatever it was, it was certainly making the new sofa springs actually groan in protest to being bent in the opposite direction.

“Mak, Mak mah ongue ing,” Benny felt his jaw go slack, that had definitely been a male.

“Shit, sorry Rog,” Benny’s whole world spun out of control as he heard Mark’s distinct voice yelp; frantic to apologize to the young man Benny had been introduced him to that morning as his ‘assistant.’

“M-mark?” Benny called out as his hand brushed against the wall, desperately searching for the light switch.

The only thought that crossed Benny’s mind was thank god he and Mark and decided to place the sofa facing away from the apartment door.

“Fuck,” he heard Mark swear as soon as he flipped on the lights. The sound was accompanied by a quiet thud as he saw a bare foot from over the back of the sofa. It would have been comical if not for Alison’s long nails digging into his hand. Suddenly Mark was standing before the couch, fingers quickly working the zipper of his slacks back up, blonde hair mused, a rumpled tie looped around a collared shirt unbuttoned to his sternum and his naturally pale skin stained the faint red color of arousal. Glancing up at Benny, pushing away the messy lock of hair that had flattened itself uncharacteristically against his forehead, he squinted trying to read his roommate’s expression. Another hand with long fingers, connected to a body lying on the sofa, gave Mark his glasses before a shirtless Roger slowly sat up to examine Benny from behind the couch.

“Oh my,” Alison gasped, releasing her grip on Benny as she put the disheveled state of both young men together and came up with the obvious answer. A little shiver ran down her spine and suddenly even having the mink around her waist was too hot. She watched with wide eyes as Roger shifted on the couch, kneeling on the cushions so that he was facing the couple with bright green eyes half hooded. Cupping his cheek in one hand and pressing an elbow to the sofa, Roger stared at Alison with an annoyed expression. “Hello boys,” she whispered with a thin voice as Roger yawned in an entirely put-upon fashion, the offending silver tongue ring catching the light, as the boy didn’t make a move to cover his mouth. A soft flush danced over her cheeks as she smiled at them.

“Evening Alison,” Mark replied in the most dignified voice he could muster while standing before a respected debutant with a rather painfully obvious erection tenting his dress slacks. He shoved his hands deep inside his pockets, pinching the sensitive skin of his thighs through the fabric to try and temper his desire. Yet, it did nothing as Mark’s eyes followed Roger’s free hand, hidden from the other couple, slip into the front of his own jeans pressed against the back of the sofa. Roger’s legs parted slightly, bent and Mark could just imagine the callused fingers gripping, adjusting himself to the tight pressure as he zipped the fly.

Mark was completely out of control of the situation.

He took a deep breath, slowly working the buttons of his shirt closed.

“’Sup Benny?” Roger added flippantly with a lazy grin as he carded his fingers through his hair, only making matters worse as all the bleached strands now stood on end in different patches and directions. Before Benny could put two words together Roger was off the couch and standing behind Mark with a naked arm snaked around the smaller man’s shoulders. However, not even the sight of low riding jeans that just barely clung to Roger’s hipbones, the top button undone and no possibility of underwear hiding beneath the tight fabric, could deter Mark from concentrating on catching Benny’s shocked gaze.

As soon as Benny glanced at Mark’s face he was transfixed. Despite the typically subordinate position of being wrapped up in someone’s possessive arms, Mark was clearly reasserting his dominance after being flustered by the unexpected interruption. Benny noted how Roger was the one molded against Mark’s back, not the other way around. His roommate standing firm with his expression schooled to be perfectly apathetic. The blithe, taunting grin on Roger’s face seemed far more immature and wholly non-threatening after staring into the jagged edges of Mark’s eyes. Something in them made Benny’s blood run cold, warning the other man not to say a single word against Roger.

Since when did Mark defend his girlfri—well, boyfriend? Most of the time Mark would complain about his girlfriend’s every last character flaw and it was Benny who would defend them.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Benny-wenny?” Alison asked breathlessly with a smile, her calm voice rooting the two men back to reality.

“Alison this is Roger,” there was a hard edge to Roger’s name as Benny gritted it out as calmly as he could, wrapping a possessive arm around Alison’s waist and pulling her flush against the side of his body. “Roger, Alison.” Despite the grip Benny had on Alison she wiggled her way out of his arms to greet Roger. Crossing the room with dainty little steps she offered him her hand to the young man.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Roger sneered, taking her hand and giving the young debutant a large sweeping grin and a slight inclination of his head. Mark jabbed him in the side with an admonishing look, ordering him to play nice with the other children.

“Oh Marky,” Alison giggled, leaning over to place a delicate hand on Mark’s bicep, her fingertips barely grazing Roger’s hand. Mark’s eyes snapped over in her direction, smiling at her through his teeth. “Wherever did you find him?”

“Actually, Miss,” Roger piped up with a wholly indignant look that made Mark’s skin crawl. He had no idea what was about to come out of that boy’s mouth and despite his best efforts he knew in the end he could not stop Roger from saying whatever he was going to say. “He just picked me up off the street corner where I was living in the big cardboard box with all the other diseased, fuzzy kitties nobody wanted,” Mark was pretty sure Roger had been hanging around him far too long.

“He’s adorable,” Alison stage whispered to Mark, still managing to not directly address Roger.

“Why thank you Muffy,” Roger replied for Mark in a falsetto similar to Alison’s airy tone, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Yet Alison continued to smile up at him, fluttering her eyelashes and blushing before a slightly confused look flitted across her face. The muscles in Roger’s arm strained against his skin as he tightened his grip around Mark, pushing himself closer to the other man.

“No, no it’s Al-” she began to correct him, talking down to the young man as if he where a small child. Personally, Mark did not have a thing against Alison. She was just another harmless blonde heiress who had only every said nice things about him and invited him to lavish parties at her estate. But when she took that pretentious tone with Roger, the one only he could use because it was in flirtatious jest, Mark was done watching her clueless responses to Roger’s acid tongue.

“We were just about to lea-” Mark had enough of the one sided verbal sparring that was going on and cut Alison off, hauling Roger’s arm off from around his shoulders and dragging him in the direction of the apartment door. However, Roger obviously had other plans as he took a step towards Mark’s bedroom, twining their fingers together and giving the other man’s arm a jerk.

“Go to bed,” Roger finished for Mark. “Night you two, don’t make too much noise and neither will we,” he teased, looking at Alison with a suggestive leer. “Cause you know, that’d just be creepy and, gosh, indecent of us,” he feigned shock before Mark’s fingers hooked into his back belt loop and hauled him into his bedroom.

“Night, Roger dear,” Alison called, giving Roger a little wave, snapping her thin wrist back and forth before turning back to Benny and saying something about liking “spunky” boys.

“Do you seriously want to stay here?” Mark asked as he pressed Roger down into his mattress, straddling his hips and running his fingers along the frayed hem of Roger’s jeans, dipping below the waistband.

“C’mon we can freak them out,” Roger suggested as his hands gripped thin hips while Mark began to slowly grind against him, teasing the other boy’s clothed cock back to life. “Well actually I think Muffy was getting off a little on the idea of us screwing around,” Mark huffed a laugh as Roger spoke distractedly, glancing at the doorway to make sure there was no shadow being cast outside of Alison waiting for the show to begin.

“Muffy?”

“All debutants and heiresses have froufrou names like that, Muffy, Fifi, Mimi, Tiffany,” it was a lame excuse but it drew out a rare smile from Mark and an eye roll. He leaned down to press an appreciative kiss against Roger’s lips, his hips starting to roll a little harder against the lithe body beneath him. “A lot of I’s actually, I wonder why?” Roger grinned and raised his eyebrows, knowing exactly why a self-centered brat would want to have a name that exemplified their dominance in a world of classy materialism all focused on themselves.

“But still, Muffy?”

“I just calls them like I sees them,” Roger murmured thickly as his head tipped back, lips falling open and tongue swiping helplessly at his dry lips as Mark’s blunt thumbnail flicked across his nipple.

“Oh really?” Mark asked playfully, his hand moving from Roger’s chest to press against the headboard for better leverage. “Then what exactly am I?” There was an odd glint in Mark’s eyes that Roger nearly missed with his head thrown back. Mark was opening up, exposing himself again for Roger to mend. Though Mark would never use the word, and Roger would be damned if he ever breathed it in Mark’s presence, but both knew it was a look of the most sincere vulnerability.

“Besides an incredibly adorable cynic?” Roger mocked at first, attempting to take the serious edge off the question as he undid the young man’s bedraggled tie.

“Yes, besides that,” Mark replied with a small impatient smile.

“A bohemian in corporate clothing,” it was a low whisper, a secret only for Mark to hear lest it be heard by the world. Roger looped the tie Mark had been wearing around the young man’s wrists as he spoke.

This time Mark didn’t protest.

+++++++++++++++

Early the next morning Mark was so wrapped up in paper work that he failed to hear the door to his office opening and the warming scent of freshly brewed coffee. He and Roger had been in such a rush to leave the apartment before Benny and Alison woke up that they skipped coffee and breakfast altogether. Now Mark was really regretting that decision but he didn’t have time to make his own cup. However, before Mark could even get the words out Roger was headed towards the break room to make a new pot of coffee just for Mark.

“Your coffee, Mr. Cohen,” Roger used his well-practiced, professional tone as he gently closed the office door behind him. The slight smile on his lips was lost on a busy Mark would didn’t look up from his work until Roger was practically sitting on top of his desk and pressing the cup into Mark’s hand.

“Thank you, Roger,” he murmured before taking a long drink from the steaming mug, tossing his pen onto the stack of paper to enjoy the rush of caffeine and warmth as it hit his system full force. Swiveling around in his chair, angling his body towards Roger, Mark looked at the man over the rim of the cup. Roger felt a little flutter in his stomach as he noticed the smile actually reaching Mark’s eyes for once so early in the day. For a moment he could almost feel the office fall away, and he and Mark were suddenly sitting in the loft, Mark plopped on the sofa with his knees folded against his chest and that smiling hiding behind his cup as he flirted with Roger. The beautiful smile brightening his face and illuminating his blue eyes.

“Shouldn’t Maureen be getting you coffee?”

“Awww,” Mark pouted as he stood from his chair to look Roger in the eye, gingerly placing the coffee down on the table. He grabbed a manila file folder off of his desk, clutching it to his chest before standing in front of his assistant. Eyes flicking to the door to make sure it was closed, Mark pressed a lingering kiss against Roger’s lips. “But she doesn’t have half as cute an ass as you do,” he said with a mischievous smirk as he swatted playfully at Roger’s ass with the folder before turning to shove it in one of the huge metallic cabinets lining the wall.

“Oh my, Mr. Cohen,” Roger gasped, jumping off the desk and fainting dramatically into Mark’s large faux leather chair. “Help, sexual harassment!” He yelped as Mark rounded on him with a disbelieving look, half-heartedly playing along. It was interesting to see Roger’s playful side rather than his quiet, brood-while-you-file persona he had been stuck with for a couple weeks. “I told you I wasn’t gay, Mr. Cohen, just bi-curious,” he whispered conspiratorially, electric green eyes wide and with a slight grin pulling up one side of his mouth.

“You came on to me,” Mark accused him, offering Roger his hand.

“Please,” the young man scoffed as he rolled his eyes, taking the offered hand before Mark pulled him out of the chair and sat back down in it. One of Roger’s hand found it’s way to the armrest while the other pressed against Mark’s upper thigh, biting gently into the thick muscle as he leaned close to the other man. “Why would I do a foolish thing like that?” Roger asked, whispering as his warm tongue flicked out to trace along the sensitive skin of Mark’s ear.

“Mark,” a voice called through the door before it was suddenly pushed open. Mark nearly jumped out of his chair while Roger frantically pulled a fraction of an inch away, grabbing a file off the desk and holding it over Mark’s lap. “Maureen called, said you needed help with the Parker Agre—oh I’m sorry to interrupt,” Joanne said calmly, though there was a hard edge to the last word as Mark saw her look back to where Maureen was no doubt cringing.

“Sorry, Pookie,” she called feebly from her desk, pouting with big doe eyes that had never had a very good affect on Mark but managed to quell the annoyed look twisting Joanne’s lips.

Mark visibly recoiled hearing the pet name.

“Hey Roger,” Joanne said with a smile.

“Morning Joanne,” Roger replied as Mark stared up at him with a baffled expression so clearly written on his face. Joanne was a little taken aback but the earnest nature of his countenance; normally Mark was next to impossible to read. “Maureen made me go help Joanne move some files out of her office and into a storage room at her firm yesterday,” he explained, pulling away and allowing the folder to fall into Mark’s lap. “Remember, that’s why I was late coming back from lunch.”

“Oh,” Mark answered back quietly before he came back to himself and turned to Joanne. His entire demeanor changed, suddenly all business. “Yeah, Joanne,” he said finally managing to tear his attention away from Roger’s retreating back. “I had a few questions about the changes, I just want to make sure we’re not getting fucked over by the television network.”

“Shoot,” she said with a smile, taking a seat in one of the chairs set up in front of Mark’s desk.

“I’ll just get out of your guys way, here’s the file you wanted, Mr. Cohen,” he placed the folder on Mark’s desk, his eyes locking with Mark’s.

“Thanks,” Mark replied.

He hadn’t asked Roger for any file.

The first chance he got, after asking Joanne a question that lead her off on an unimportant tangent, he flipped open the folder. Inside was a piece of paper off of Maureen’s neon green ‘While You Where Out…’ notepad. Scribbled in almost illegible black script was a little note from Roger telling Mark to meet him in the photocopier room on the seventh floor. All of the sudden the short legal consultation with Joanne couldn’t go fast enough.

+++++++++++++++

“Did you get lost?” Roger breathed against Mark’s lips with a feral grin splitting his face as soon as the other man stepped inside the dimly light room. Pressing him up against the heavy door, they heard the telltale solid click as the door automatically locked from the outside. Roger’s hands wound themselves in Mark’s hair, fingertips scrabbling gently against his scalp.

“Corporate perfection takes time, dear boy,” Mark answered back calmly, pushing off of the door.

“Whatever,” Roger murmured as they slammed up against the opposite wall. There was a dull thud as Mark’s hand collided with the plaster, slipping to cradle the back of Roger’s head just before it snapped back and hit the wall. Harsh, erratic breathing filled the small room as Mark sucked at Roger’s lips, nipping the soft flesh before pressing his tongue against the flat of Roger’s. Matching their hips up, Mark gripped Roger’s wrists and pinned the to his sides. A little trail of wet, glistening kisses traveled up Roger’s jaw line as Mark moved to caress his thrumming pulse.

“I wanna take you out tonight,” Roger gasped as Mark’s teeth sank into the soft skin.

“What?” He pulled back, releasing Roger. A flicker of hurt light up the green eyes as he saw Mark retreat.

“I,” Roger pressed his hand against his own chest before taking a careful step towards Mark, almost like approaching a wounded animal. “Want to take you,” he gently pressed his index finger against the center of Mark’s chest. “Out for dinner tonight,” he finished with a hopeful smile.

“Roger,” Mark sighed.

“Hey, I’ve got some money now, thanks to you,” a short peck on the lips. “And I want to treat you to something special,” his voice was quiet, almost embarrassed at having a rather large soft spot for the corporate golden boy. Mark glanced up to see Roger’s eyes and it was all over.

“Where?” Roger could see his resolve crumbling bit by bit with each reluctant breath he drew.

“Life Café,” his grin was full force now.

“Roger,” Mark slumped against the copy machine as he heard the name. He had been there before with Collins many times, but that was before, well, before everything changed. “Can you just imagine all the looks we would get?” Mark knew exactly how everyone would not exactly be welcoming to a young man in a tie—nice, white boy, yuppie scum.

“That’s half the fun,” Roger replied, grinning with the prospect of making a commotion. He would drage out the old Mark, kicking and screaming, come hell or high water. Roger figured that the Life Café was as good a starting place as any. “But, maybe you should tone it down, and lose the fucking tie.”

“Alright,” Mark caved. “And I’ll go incognito,” he added, taking pleasure in the way Roger’s entire frame seemed to take on a bright quality, radiating outward from some inner light.

“Seven, okay?”

“Mmhmmm,” he hummed against Roger’s lips before slipping back out of the photocopier room.

+++++++++++++++

A cool breeze swept through the busy café as the door was pushed open by yet another costumer. The fridge air swirling about Roger’s feet, licking at the exposed skin just above his thick-soled boots, ghosting easily through the loose fabric of his threadbare plaid pants. It was almost ten past seven o’clock and Mark was generally never late. Glancing up hopefully from the menu he knew backwards and forwards, Roger caught a glimpse of light reflecting off thick frames and a shock of bright blonde hair. He jumped out of the booth and motioned to a rather awkward looking Mark who stood fidgeting by the front door of the café.

Beautiful role reversal, Mark was like a fish out of water, breathing sweet air that was oddly familiar.

“I haven’t been here since I was nineteen with Collins,” Mark said with an apprehensive smile as he slid into the booth across from Roger. His feet bumped gently against Roger’s as he moved closer to the wall, trying to get away from the bemused couple looking over at their table. Roger nudged back with a small smile, verging on coy. “This is so awkward,” he murmured, glancing over at the two women eating an all vegan platter of tofu and cooked vegetables.

“I thought you said you were going incognito,” Roger shot back at Mark, staring at the pressed sport coat hanging off Mark’s shoulders. No doubt he looked good in the expensive dark fabric, especially the way it was tailored to taper down the length of his thin body, but it was definitely not they type of thing an average Life Café costumer would wear, ever.

“I am,” Mark said anxiously, pulling at the faded band t-shirt under the coat. Feeling more self-conscious than he had since he was back in college, Mark began to curse the fucking style magazine he had seen on the way home with an article about artistic flare melding with classy dress—that’s where he had gotten the idea to wear a regular t-shirt with a nice sport coat. His head collided with the table as he felt an unusual flush creep up the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Roger had not noticed the worn Ramones emblem emblazed on the tan shirt hidden beneath the sport coat. “Nice, Mark,” he laughed quietly, appreciating Mark’s taste in music. “But isn’t that a sport coat?”

“Shuddup,” Mark’s voice was muffled as he spoke into the tabletop.

“Well at least you’ve got that cute scarf on instead of the tie,” Roger complimented him, reaching across the table to play with the soft fabric of Mark’s scarf. Mark lifted his head, blue eyes sparking to life.

“I thought you’d like it,” he replied with an earnest smile, taking a little pride in pleasing Roger. Taking a deep breath, focusing all his energy on Roger and away from the other couple who had begun glancing over at them periodically. “So what kinda food do they got here?”

“What can I get you boys?” A flamboyantly dressed waiter asked as he leaned against the table, angling his body towards Roger. “Roger?” He asked with a bright smile, obviously flirting with the young man as he leaned in close with his bright pink pen and pad ready to take down the order.

“C’mon,” Roger said tossing the waiter the glossy menu, expecting him to know exactly what he was going to order. After all, ever since his withdrawal he had eaten the same thing at the Life whenever he had the money to afford it.

“Mega burrito with the grilled chicken and a side of fries?” he raddled off with a mock brooding expression, mimicking Roger’s usual demeanor.

“See, Mr. Cohen, that’s why I come here,” Roger tugged at the scarf to pull Mark’s attention off of the young man staring at him from across the room. “The amazing service,” Roger grinned up at the waiter.

“Sir?”

“What? Me? Uhhh,” Mark asked startled by the stiff tone the man’s voice had suddenly slipped into. He wasn’t ready for the jovial tone to evaporate so completely. None of the words on the menu seemed to make since in his mind as he felt several more pairs of eyes focus on him. “I’ll just get whatever Roger’s having,” he finally said after staring at the menu for a good five minutes trying to decipher the squiggles he knew were letters of the alphabet. He didn’t look up until he heard the waiter’s footsteps moving away from the booth. “Did he just call me sir?”

“Stick with me and he’ll know your name in a week or so,” Roger promised.

“Great,” oh the perks of the Bohemian life style.

“It’s a comfort thing,” Roger tried to explain. “Like your daily cup of coffee with a bit of Roger on the side,” he leaned across the table, pulling on Mark’s scarf to plant a kiss against the other boy’s lips.

He was met with firm resistance.

“Rog, what are you doing?”

“Mark, chill,” Roger said with a half laugh twisting his words. “Look around, no one is going to care, trust me,” his eyes pleaded with Mark to drop his inhibitions and just live life like he had always wanted for just one night. “We’re not in the straight laced corporate world, this is Bohemia,” a smile was beginning to pull at Mark’s lips as he found himself tipping into Roger’s eyes.

“Thanks for the news flash, Ted Koppel.”

“Anytime,” he grinned back, glad to see Mark comfortable enough to start teasing him again. “Now, Mother may I?”

“If you must,” Mark sighed with a mock bothered expression as Roger’s lips pressed against his in a slow kiss that brought more color to Mark’s face than the cold had any chance at doing. So caught up in the play of wet flesh against his mouth, Mark forgot to be concerned about the people who had been watching him so intently that when he heard the voice of their waiter he pulled away from Roger and succeeded in smacking his head against the booth.

“Oh thank god,” the waiter sighed, his hand covering his heart as he plopped down two cups of water.

“Wha-?”

“I was starting to get worried about you Roger,” the waiter sighed as Roger reached over to Mark who was rubbing the back of his head. “Thought maybe that job Collins got you was beginning to bleed over into your actual life,” there was an odd pause as Mark flinched away from Roger’s groping hand, giving the other boy a cold glare. “He’s not exactly your type, is he?” The waiter eyed Mark up and down. He was somewhat cute but the whole yuppie thing didn’t really work for him. “Or anyone in this café’s type for that matter,” he added, nudging Roger with a grin.

“Excuse me?” Mark asked crossly.

“Nothing against you, Mister,” he said though Mark knew otherwise, how could it not be something against him? “Just that I don’t think anyone that normally comes here would really wanna know anything more about you.”

“Thanks for telling me something I don’t already know,” Mark snapped back, sliding out of the booth as quickly as he could. Glancing around he saw that now all eyes were paying attention on him. “I’m leaving now,” he told Roger calmly as he pulled the scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ve gone through this once already, don’t really have what it takes to go through it again.”

“Mark,” Roger called, grabbing his leather coat and dashing out the door to follow Mark. “Mark, wait,” he huffed as he caught up to Mark half a block away from the café.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think tha—I’m sorry,” Roger whispered, wrapping his arms tight around Mark’s body. It took a moment before he felt the other boy’s arms wind about his waist, be he did eventually. “C’mon, there’s something I wanna show you,” he took Mark’s cold hand in his own, lacing the fingers together before pulling him off in the direction of Avenue B.

+++++++++++++++
AN: It won’t stop. I swear. Did I fuck it up? *wince*