RENT: And I'm a Part of That... Aren't I?
Apr. 8th, 2006 10:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
find_rightbrainTitle: And I'm a Part of That... Aren't I?
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 625
Rating: G
Summary: Maureen convinces Mark to help with her protest.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
“So, what do you think?”
Mark had a headache, and he was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t going to be over for some time. He opened his mouth to say something, lifting one finger as if to make some sort of point, then closed his mouth again and bit his thumbnail thoughtfully, staring at the uncarpeted floor of the loft. “Well...”
He winced as she pouted at him, deliberately avoiding looking her in the eye. “You don’t like it,” she whimpered, and sat on the couch beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin on his shoulder so he really couldn’t avoid looking at her.
“No, no,” he protested weakly, “it’s not that. It was wonderful–”
From his room, Roger called, “Don’t lie, Mark, you know it’s crap.”
Mark clenched his jaw and repressed the desire to go strangle Roger. It wasn’t his fault. Four months of withdrawal made Roger understandably irritable, but... God, he was being an ass. With a tremendous effort, he turned his attention back to reassuring Maureen, who was now pouting at him all the more. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, Maur. It’s just that once you get to the part about the cow–”
He paused momentarily there. Why a cow? It didn’t make any sense... but then, this was Maureen, and he would probably be better off questioning the motives of butterflies. With a sigh, he continued, “–the cow gouging her eyes out, most people are going to get a little frightened.”
She pulled away from him, her eyes widening plaintively. “But it’s symbolism!” she protested. “It’s artistic. And it’s supposed to be frightening. People like Benny are going to end up controlling the neighborhood and isn’t that scary?”
Mark decided not to answer her question, simply asking mildly, “Symbolism?”
“Oedipus, Mark!” Maureen said, gesturing wildly with one hand. “Don’t you know anything?”
He held up his hand, palm out, to placate her. “No, I know, Maur. That’s not what I meant. It’s just... I think most of the people you’re going to be talking to are... homeless people. Do you think they’re going to get it?” Or care? he added silently.
She jumped to her feet and started pacing, talking about principles and artistic expression, and Mark sat there and listened patiently, nodding occasionally when she turned to face him now and then and directed an actual question at him. Somehow, he got the distinct impression that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. After a few minutes he stood up and started walking towards Roger’s room, then stopped when Maureen said sharply, “Mark! Listen to me!”
He sighed and glanced back to her. “I have to get Roger to eat something today. I’m sure you’ll manage to perfect your performance on your own.”
“But Mark,” she said, pouting at him, “I need you to help!”
For a moment he paused, but not for very long. “Sure you do, Maur,” he muttered, and kept on walking to Roger’s room. Roger actually needed him just then, even if he refused to admit it; Maureen only thought she did.
***
Mark smiled slightly as Maureen threw her arms in the air, gesturing for the crowd to moo along with her. Well, maybe she had listened to him after all. At least, sort of listened to him, in a roundabout way. Or maybe, in typical Maureen fashion, she had simply changed her mind, but it was nice to think that he had had something to do with it, maybe.
“Moo!” Maureen demanded loudly once more, clearly encouraged by the few people who had begun to moo when she first requested it. With a slight hidden smile, Mark obliged and tentatively mooed.
Feedback: Will make me love you muchly.
Characters/Pairing: Mark/Maureen
Word Count: 625
Rating: G
Summary: Maureen convinces Mark to help with her protest.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent, and I'm extremely unlikely ever to. Shiny?
“So, what do you think?”
Mark had a headache, and he was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t going to be over for some time. He opened his mouth to say something, lifting one finger as if to make some sort of point, then closed his mouth again and bit his thumbnail thoughtfully, staring at the uncarpeted floor of the loft. “Well...”
He winced as she pouted at him, deliberately avoiding looking her in the eye. “You don’t like it,” she whimpered, and sat on the couch beside him, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her chin on his shoulder so he really couldn’t avoid looking at her.
“No, no,” he protested weakly, “it’s not that. It was wonderful–”
From his room, Roger called, “Don’t lie, Mark, you know it’s crap.”
Mark clenched his jaw and repressed the desire to go strangle Roger. It wasn’t his fault. Four months of withdrawal made Roger understandably irritable, but... God, he was being an ass. With a tremendous effort, he turned his attention back to reassuring Maureen, who was now pouting at him all the more. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, Maur. It’s just that once you get to the part about the cow–”
He paused momentarily there. Why a cow? It didn’t make any sense... but then, this was Maureen, and he would probably be better off questioning the motives of butterflies. With a sigh, he continued, “–the cow gouging her eyes out, most people are going to get a little frightened.”
She pulled away from him, her eyes widening plaintively. “But it’s symbolism!” she protested. “It’s artistic. And it’s supposed to be frightening. People like Benny are going to end up controlling the neighborhood and isn’t that scary?”
Mark decided not to answer her question, simply asking mildly, “Symbolism?”
“Oedipus, Mark!” Maureen said, gesturing wildly with one hand. “Don’t you know anything?”
He held up his hand, palm out, to placate her. “No, I know, Maur. That’s not what I meant. It’s just... I think most of the people you’re going to be talking to are... homeless people. Do you think they’re going to get it?” Or care? he added silently.
She jumped to her feet and started pacing, talking about principles and artistic expression, and Mark sat there and listened patiently, nodding occasionally when she turned to face him now and then and directed an actual question at him. Somehow, he got the distinct impression that she hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. After a few minutes he stood up and started walking towards Roger’s room, then stopped when Maureen said sharply, “Mark! Listen to me!”
He sighed and glanced back to her. “I have to get Roger to eat something today. I’m sure you’ll manage to perfect your performance on your own.”
“But Mark,” she said, pouting at him, “I need you to help!”
For a moment he paused, but not for very long. “Sure you do, Maur,” he muttered, and kept on walking to Roger’s room. Roger actually needed him just then, even if he refused to admit it; Maureen only thought she did.
Mark smiled slightly as Maureen threw her arms in the air, gesturing for the crowd to moo along with her. Well, maybe she had listened to him after all. At least, sort of listened to him, in a roundabout way. Or maybe, in typical Maureen fashion, she had simply changed her mind, but it was nice to think that he had had something to do with it, maybe.
“Moo!” Maureen demanded loudly once more, clearly encouraged by the few people who had begun to moo when she first requested it. With a slight hidden smile, Mark obliged and tentatively mooed.