Aubrey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
find_rightbrain) wrote2007-06-10 12:50 am
find_rightbrain) wrote2007-06-10 12:50 am
Entry tags:
RENT: The Stories We Say (Chapter One)
Title: The Stories We Say
Chapter: 1/14
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Roger, Collins
Word Count: 1738
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's not for forever, but it feels good right now, so what could it hurt?
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rentchallenge speed challenge #2.
Disclaimer: Don't own Rent or any of its characters. I also do not own "Eric's Song", which the title is from.
The first time Roger kissed Mark, it wasn't the perfect, right thing that a first kiss ought to be, it wasn't a long time coming or the culmination of anything, and Mark, at least, knew better than to think it was love. Roger was lonely and lost, Roger had just moved into the city and needed someone, Roger was a kid who wanted love so badly he was willing to snatch at the slightest glimmer of affection shown him in hopes it could be coaxed into a flame. Roger gripped his shoulders lightly and pushed him back gently against the couch, kissed him firmly, like he was afraid that any more hesitant and Mark would shove him away immediately. Mark could see the hesitance, though, when he pulled back at last, and looked at Mark with an expression that made it seem he expected some violent reaction. He looked scared, poor kid, and for a second Mark tried to think of a way to respond to this that would let him down easy.
And then he remembered that his latest girlfriend had dumped him this week, and that he was just as alone, if not as desperately lonely, and that it couldn't hurt anything, just this once. Roger would be fine. Mark reached up and rested his hand on Roger's shoulder, pulled him down and kissed him. Roger let out a soft, relieved sigh and leaned against him a little, returning the kiss warmly, and after a moment Mark shifted, rolling over to straddle Roger's hips, hands sliding up lightly under his shirt and his mouth on Roger's.
It didn't feel perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, it didn't feel like destiny or meant to be or forever, but it felt good right now. Skin on skin, low, hungry moans and heated kisses, and no, it wasn't the beginning of forever, but it was so easy that forever didn't matter.
*
Roger walked out of his and Mark's room in the morning with a smile, and Collins blinked when he saw him. To tell the truth, he was more surprised by the smile than the fact that it was Mark's room he was coming out of. Collins hadn't seen the kid smile since he moved in, not beyond that tense, nervous smile that couldn't rightfully be called a smile at all. It was a little odd, actually, seeing him really smile.
"Enjoy yourself last night?" he asked dryly, knowing perfectly well the answer. It wasn't hard to make enough noise to be heard through the thin walls in the loft, even after Roger and Mark had moved into their bedroom.
Roger flushed a little, the color painfully obvious in his cheeks, and glanced down. Collins decided to let the question drop, instead pouring and holding out a cup of coffee to Roger, which he gratefully accepted. "Thanks. I, um... thanks."
He sat down gingerly at the end of the counter, on one of the stools there. Still awkward and uncertain around any of his roommates – except, it seemed, for Mark. He took a sip of his coffee, sat there for a moment, and then glanced up at Collins. Collins pretended not to notice, deciding it would be best to give him space until he wanted to speak. Sure enough, eventually, he did.
"How... how long have you known Mark?"
"A couple years," Collins answered slowly. Already this conversation made him... not nervous, but uncertain. Wherever it led, he was sure he wouldn't exactly like it.
"Do you... know what he thinks of me?" Roger asked, and his eyes were on his coffee mug again, because apparently that was a safer thing to look at than Collins.
"He likes you. I think he probably considers you a friend. Why?"
"I don't know." Roger shrugged, eyes still fixed on his coffee. "It's just strange how we... know each other. Like we've known each other for longer than..." He trailed off with another shrug.
Collins considered telling him that maybe he shouldn't get so attached to Mark so quickly, that yes, Mark liked him, and that he almost certainly wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt him, but that this probably wasn't as serious as maybe Roger thought it was, and...
He took one look at Roger's faint, distracted smile, and decided it would probably be useless.
*
As uncertain as he'd been that first time, it didn't take Roger long to learn just what it took to make Mark pant and whimper and squirm. He was a fast learner. It didn't take long, either, before he'd simply abandoned his own bed, and spent his nights in Mark's, curled against his back, one arm around his waist. Mark never saw a reason to tell him to stop, because no one ever said it had to be a matter of forever, and who said there was anything wrong with what was right right now?
In the back of his mind, he knew there was something wrong with it, if only because of the way Roger's arm rested on his waist, like he thought it was supposed to stay there forever. The gentleness of his touches, the way he looked at him, and maybe he should stop this now, but Roger never said the word "love", and neither did Mark, so it couldn't hurt anyone, right? That logic seemed to work in Mark's mind, no matter the evidence to the contrary, the sense of unspoken words hanging in the air. It wasn't ever said, so it couldn't be real.
Except that Mark had always known that wasn't true. The unspoken was as real and tangible as anything else, but if he told Roger to back off, he'd be alone in bed again every night, and he'd gotten used to being... not alone. So he let Roger stay. If the touches were sometimes a little too loving, Mark could always sink his teeth into Roger's shoulder and arch against him, and that distracted him. If the look in Roger's eyes was sometimes a little too intense, Mark could always close his own eyes and pretend he hadn't seen it.
*
Mark slammed the door shut and rushed down the stairs, cursing under his breath. He'd meant to be at Roger's show before it started, Roger had asked him to be there beforehand for some sort of reassurance or whatever, but he'd gotten so caught up, he'd lost track of time, and he was already five minutes late. He slowed a little as he reached the bottom of the stairs, sighing a little. It was a ten minute walk to the club, at least, and he was already late – it wouldn't hurt to be just a little later.
He shouldered open the door out of the building and headed down the street, shaking his head a little. It wasn't like Roger would yell at him for being late, but that disappointed look in his eyes would be bad enough. Worse, really. It reminded Mark too much of the hurt looks he got other times, when he thought Mark wasn't looking, every time Mark gave him not quite enough, and what the hell did Roger want out of him anyway?
Absently, Mark dug a quarter out of his pocket and tossed it to the street drummer on the corner as he passed, nodding slightly when the boy thanked him. He waited for a car to drive past, and then jogged across the street, mentally reviewing the directions to the club and hoping he didn't get lost on the way and be even later. Oh, hell, would Roger even notice when he came in? He'd be playing, the stage lights would be on him... Mark could just as well say he'd come in earlier, that Roger just hadn't noticed him. Maybe that would keep him from giving Mark that look, the one that made him want to put his arms around Roger and just hold him at the same time it made him deeply uncomfortable.
He found the club at last, and ducked inside, glad to find that it was loud enough and dark enough that Roger wouldn't notice him immediately. That would certainly make things easier. He found his way to the bar and ordered a drink, then turned to glance at Roger, grinning a little as he watched him. Whatever encouragement he had been looking for from Mark before the show, he seemed to be doing fine without it, confident and seemingly at home under the bright lights. He seemed to take in the light and make it a part of himself, with a bright smile, practically glowing with excitement, the light glinting off the chain around his neck. It was the most confident Mark had ever seen him, outside of when it was just the two of them, alone.
It took him several minutes to find a table, nearer to the stage than he'd have liked, but it was crowded, and he'd have to settle for what he could find. For a while he was left on his own, quietly watching Roger and his band, inexplicably glad that he could watch Roger for once without Roger catching his eye and unsettling him with some too-fond, too-intense look. It was nice, just this once.
A few minutes later his attention was taken off of Roger by a girl who sidled up to his table and asked if she could sit down, with a smile that would make anyone agree immediately. She sat down and started talking to him, and Mark smiled back at her, because she was fucking gorgeous, and he couldn't help it. And he didn't protest when she shifted her chair closer to his, when she put her hand on his thigh, or leaned in to murmur something in his ear (ostensibly so he could hear her over the music) or reached out to play with his hair, because it wasn't like he and Roger were together, really, it had never been anything permanent and it wouldn't hurt anything if he flirted with this girl...
Somehow those thoughts faded immediately from his mind when he looked up as a set ended and found Roger staring at him from the stage, looking stricken.
Next Chapter >>
Chapter: 1/14
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Roger, Collins
Word Count: 1738
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It's not for forever, but it feels good right now, so what could it hurt?
Notes: Written for
rentchallenge speed challenge #2.Disclaimer: Don't own Rent or any of its characters. I also do not own "Eric's Song", which the title is from.
The first time Roger kissed Mark, it wasn't the perfect, right thing that a first kiss ought to be, it wasn't a long time coming or the culmination of anything, and Mark, at least, knew better than to think it was love. Roger was lonely and lost, Roger had just moved into the city and needed someone, Roger was a kid who wanted love so badly he was willing to snatch at the slightest glimmer of affection shown him in hopes it could be coaxed into a flame. Roger gripped his shoulders lightly and pushed him back gently against the couch, kissed him firmly, like he was afraid that any more hesitant and Mark would shove him away immediately. Mark could see the hesitance, though, when he pulled back at last, and looked at Mark with an expression that made it seem he expected some violent reaction. He looked scared, poor kid, and for a second Mark tried to think of a way to respond to this that would let him down easy.
And then he remembered that his latest girlfriend had dumped him this week, and that he was just as alone, if not as desperately lonely, and that it couldn't hurt anything, just this once. Roger would be fine. Mark reached up and rested his hand on Roger's shoulder, pulled him down and kissed him. Roger let out a soft, relieved sigh and leaned against him a little, returning the kiss warmly, and after a moment Mark shifted, rolling over to straddle Roger's hips, hands sliding up lightly under his shirt and his mouth on Roger's.
It didn't feel perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, it didn't feel like destiny or meant to be or forever, but it felt good right now. Skin on skin, low, hungry moans and heated kisses, and no, it wasn't the beginning of forever, but it was so easy that forever didn't matter.
Roger walked out of his and Mark's room in the morning with a smile, and Collins blinked when he saw him. To tell the truth, he was more surprised by the smile than the fact that it was Mark's room he was coming out of. Collins hadn't seen the kid smile since he moved in, not beyond that tense, nervous smile that couldn't rightfully be called a smile at all. It was a little odd, actually, seeing him really smile.
"Enjoy yourself last night?" he asked dryly, knowing perfectly well the answer. It wasn't hard to make enough noise to be heard through the thin walls in the loft, even after Roger and Mark had moved into their bedroom.
Roger flushed a little, the color painfully obvious in his cheeks, and glanced down. Collins decided to let the question drop, instead pouring and holding out a cup of coffee to Roger, which he gratefully accepted. "Thanks. I, um... thanks."
He sat down gingerly at the end of the counter, on one of the stools there. Still awkward and uncertain around any of his roommates – except, it seemed, for Mark. He took a sip of his coffee, sat there for a moment, and then glanced up at Collins. Collins pretended not to notice, deciding it would be best to give him space until he wanted to speak. Sure enough, eventually, he did.
"How... how long have you known Mark?"
"A couple years," Collins answered slowly. Already this conversation made him... not nervous, but uncertain. Wherever it led, he was sure he wouldn't exactly like it.
"Do you... know what he thinks of me?" Roger asked, and his eyes were on his coffee mug again, because apparently that was a safer thing to look at than Collins.
"He likes you. I think he probably considers you a friend. Why?"
"I don't know." Roger shrugged, eyes still fixed on his coffee. "It's just strange how we... know each other. Like we've known each other for longer than..." He trailed off with another shrug.
Collins considered telling him that maybe he shouldn't get so attached to Mark so quickly, that yes, Mark liked him, and that he almost certainly wouldn't do anything to intentionally hurt him, but that this probably wasn't as serious as maybe Roger thought it was, and...
He took one look at Roger's faint, distracted smile, and decided it would probably be useless.
As uncertain as he'd been that first time, it didn't take Roger long to learn just what it took to make Mark pant and whimper and squirm. He was a fast learner. It didn't take long, either, before he'd simply abandoned his own bed, and spent his nights in Mark's, curled against his back, one arm around his waist. Mark never saw a reason to tell him to stop, because no one ever said it had to be a matter of forever, and who said there was anything wrong with what was right right now?
In the back of his mind, he knew there was something wrong with it, if only because of the way Roger's arm rested on his waist, like he thought it was supposed to stay there forever. The gentleness of his touches, the way he looked at him, and maybe he should stop this now, but Roger never said the word "love", and neither did Mark, so it couldn't hurt anyone, right? That logic seemed to work in Mark's mind, no matter the evidence to the contrary, the sense of unspoken words hanging in the air. It wasn't ever said, so it couldn't be real.
Except that Mark had always known that wasn't true. The unspoken was as real and tangible as anything else, but if he told Roger to back off, he'd be alone in bed again every night, and he'd gotten used to being... not alone. So he let Roger stay. If the touches were sometimes a little too loving, Mark could always sink his teeth into Roger's shoulder and arch against him, and that distracted him. If the look in Roger's eyes was sometimes a little too intense, Mark could always close his own eyes and pretend he hadn't seen it.
Mark slammed the door shut and rushed down the stairs, cursing under his breath. He'd meant to be at Roger's show before it started, Roger had asked him to be there beforehand for some sort of reassurance or whatever, but he'd gotten so caught up, he'd lost track of time, and he was already five minutes late. He slowed a little as he reached the bottom of the stairs, sighing a little. It was a ten minute walk to the club, at least, and he was already late – it wouldn't hurt to be just a little later.
He shouldered open the door out of the building and headed down the street, shaking his head a little. It wasn't like Roger would yell at him for being late, but that disappointed look in his eyes would be bad enough. Worse, really. It reminded Mark too much of the hurt looks he got other times, when he thought Mark wasn't looking, every time Mark gave him not quite enough, and what the hell did Roger want out of him anyway?
Absently, Mark dug a quarter out of his pocket and tossed it to the street drummer on the corner as he passed, nodding slightly when the boy thanked him. He waited for a car to drive past, and then jogged across the street, mentally reviewing the directions to the club and hoping he didn't get lost on the way and be even later. Oh, hell, would Roger even notice when he came in? He'd be playing, the stage lights would be on him... Mark could just as well say he'd come in earlier, that Roger just hadn't noticed him. Maybe that would keep him from giving Mark that look, the one that made him want to put his arms around Roger and just hold him at the same time it made him deeply uncomfortable.
He found the club at last, and ducked inside, glad to find that it was loud enough and dark enough that Roger wouldn't notice him immediately. That would certainly make things easier. He found his way to the bar and ordered a drink, then turned to glance at Roger, grinning a little as he watched him. Whatever encouragement he had been looking for from Mark before the show, he seemed to be doing fine without it, confident and seemingly at home under the bright lights. He seemed to take in the light and make it a part of himself, with a bright smile, practically glowing with excitement, the light glinting off the chain around his neck. It was the most confident Mark had ever seen him, outside of when it was just the two of them, alone.
It took him several minutes to find a table, nearer to the stage than he'd have liked, but it was crowded, and he'd have to settle for what he could find. For a while he was left on his own, quietly watching Roger and his band, inexplicably glad that he could watch Roger for once without Roger catching his eye and unsettling him with some too-fond, too-intense look. It was nice, just this once.
A few minutes later his attention was taken off of Roger by a girl who sidled up to his table and asked if she could sit down, with a smile that would make anyone agree immediately. She sat down and started talking to him, and Mark smiled back at her, because she was fucking gorgeous, and he couldn't help it. And he didn't protest when she shifted her chair closer to his, when she put her hand on his thigh, or leaned in to murmur something in his ear (ostensibly so he could hear her over the music) or reached out to play with his hair, because it wasn't like he and Roger were together, really, it had never been anything permanent and it wouldn't hurt anything if he flirted with this girl...
Somehow those thoughts faded immediately from his mind when he looked up as a set ended and found Roger staring at him from the stage, looking stricken.
Next Chapter >>