Okay, so I was really, really late getting this out. I'm sorry. It's just... this is the last chapter... and maybe I didn't want it to end.. :sobs: Naw, that was a blatant lie. I was just a lazy bastard. Anyways, I finished, and here is the EPILOGUE. Wow. It's been a long, strange ride. Thank you all so much for reading. Don't worry, it's not completely over, as there are still those one-shots for you to look forward to. Or not.
In any case, I've left you a gift at the end of this chapter. A little extra something I did, because I'm a loser. I'll put it in at the end.
Enjoy.
5 weeks later:
Roger looked over to where Mark was laying, sprawled out on their bed. He smiled at the thought. Their bed, as it had been for a week now. It hadn't taken Mark long to broach the subject of moving in together. It made sense because, after all, as Mark had put it, "We're already used to being roommates anyway." Roger had loved how Mark had blushed when he'd replied, "Yeah…it's exactly the same. Except for all the sex."
So they'd spent a few weeks searching for a new apartment, bigger than either of their old ones and close enough to both the recording studio and the headquarters of Vivre. Roger was surprised they'd been able to find one in their price-range, but he guessed it helped that Christian had obscene amounts of connections in LA. He'd pretty much found the apartment for them, even handed them the key with a slightly sad shake of his head. Roger was almost positive it was Chris's way of letting Mark go for good. The man was a complete contradiction. Incredibly selfish one moment and insanely selfless the next.
Roger figured it was long overdue for him and Mark to be sharing an apartment again. It had been over two years since Roger had moved out of the loft back in New York. He hoped that one day they'd return, as shitty a place to live as it was. They had a lot of history there, and he'd hate to turn his back on it indefinitely. Besides, it was where his entire journey had started; it seemed fitting that that's where it should end.
He'd always thought that the loft would be 'home' to him, but he'd come to realize in those months after Mark had left that home was wherever Mark was. And the past week had shown how right that thought had been. He'd never felt safer than he felt in those quiet moments before Mark's alarm went off, wrapped in the filmmaker's arms, seeing his calm face outlined in the twilight before dawn. Of course, he couldn't help his reaction to when Mark woke up, all rumpled with sleep, glaring at the alarm, looking so fucking cute. It was entirely Mark's fault that they kept barely making it to work on time.
Mark was glaring up at the ceiling with the same look he often gave the alarm, only this one was slightly less tired. His brow was furrowed, lips pursed. Roger sighed. Mark was thinking too hard again. He tended to do that.
"Stop it," he grumbled, flopping down next to Mark, then pulling him up against his side. Mark's eyes widened slightly. He probably hadn't even realized Roger was in the room.
"Stop what?" he hedged, burrowing a little closer and wrapping his arms around Roger's chest. Roger moved so that they lay side to side, and looked into Mark's face.
"You're worrying about it. I thought we'd settled all this earlier. They're expecting me to call in a few minutes."
"I know… it's just… kind of weird, I guess. I'm wondering if I should have asked you not to tell them when you'd found me. This is gonna be awkward. 'Hi, I know it's been over a year since I abandoned you all, but through some fucking crazy coincidence here I am, living with Roger again, only this time we're sleeping in the same bed. How've you been?'" Mark practiced the imaginary conversation, and Roger snorted.
"They'll probably be more pissed off at me for not letting them know I'd found you. And they understood you had to leave, Mark. At least Joanne did. Maureen was kind of emotional about it. And anyway, I thought we said we weren't going to tell them about us until we could meet them in person. Let's take one step at a time." Mark sighed.
"Yeah, I know, you're right," he grumbled. "I know it's time I let them know I'm not dead. I'm just having trouble getting over the irony that Maureen left me for a woman, and now I'm, in effect, jumping on the bandwagon. She's totally gonna want to take credit for this."
"Maureen Johnson, creator of the new craze to turn queer. Gay is the new black," Roger said with a grin. Mark laughed. "I'm sure Chris would get a kick out of covering that story."
"Don't you dare mention it to him. He might actually do it just to mess with me."
"Not a word," Roger promised, then tilted Mark's head up and gave him a short kiss. Mark pressed into him, but Roger pulled away before any tongue got involved; that was always enough to distract him, and he couldn't let Mark be distracting right now. "Well, we've got a phone call to make." Roger squirmed out of Mark's arms and stood up, offering his hand. "Now get your scrawny ass out of bed." Mark smiled and took his hand.
"I thought you liked my scrawny ass," he teased, pressing up against Roger when the guitarist helped him up. Roger swallowed and stepped away.
"Nice try, but no changing the subject." He walked out into the kitchen and grabbed the phone off the hook. "Besides, we've got two hot lesbians waiting breathlessly for our phone call. What guy wouldn't jump at that opportunity?" he asked with a chuckle as he dialed the number on the calling-card he'd pulled out of his pocket. Mark groaned.
"I have got to stop letting you hang around with Chris so much. He's infecting you with his sense of humor." Roger just smiled.
"You want to do the honors?" he asked when the automated voice asked Roger to please enter the area code and number. Mark looked a little nervous, but he punched in the long-since memorized number anyway. After a few rings, the phone clicked on.
"'Hello?" chimed Maureen's cheery voice. Roger smiled.
"Hey, Maureen. It's me."
"Oh, good! Joanne and I were wondering if you'd call today! Let me get her." She must have put the phone down, but Roger heard her, "JOANNE! ROGER'S ON THE PHONE!" as clear as if she'd screamed it into his ear. He winced. Mark grinned.
There was a bit of a shuffling sound, but then Roger heard a beep as the other phone in their apartment clicked on. Joanne's greeting was cut-off when Maureen got back to her phone and asked if everyone was on.
"Yeah, we're all three of us here, Maureen," Roger replied. "Joanne was just saying hi."
"Oh, sorry, Pookie! I didn't mean to interrupt," Maureen said. Joanne sighed.
"It's fine, Maureen. How've you been, Roger? Last time we talked to you was six weeks ago. We were starting to get worried." Roger ignored the small amount of guilt he felt at that. They had left a few messages on his cell phone, but he hadn't gotten around to calling them back. Before he'd left, he'd told Maureen and Joanne he'd try to call them every other Sunday around 3 p.m. their time. The past month he'd been so busy getting things ready for the move that he'd forgotten. Otherwise he'd surprised both them and himself by being pretty good about calling.
"Ah, sorry. I was busy. I was moving into a new apartment."
"New apartment? What was wrong with your old one?" Maureen asked. Jesus. Never could work up to things with her. Better to just come out and say it.
"Well, that's the thing. I ended up getting a…roommate. Since there's two of us, we wanted a bigger place, and with two people going in on rent, it's affordable now."
Maureen seemed to accept that, but Joanne caught the slight pause and strange inflection on the word 'roommate'.
"Roommate? Not a new girlfriend, Rog?" she asked, her tone slightly teasing. Roger's eyes widened. Damn. That's what you get for trying to lie to a lawyer. Maureen gasped and cut him off before he could answer.
"Oh my GOD, that would be so good for you, Rog!" she squealed. "It really is time you moved on and found someone new." Joanne and Roger both winced. She meant well, but Maureen never was very tactful. Roger coughed.
"Well, actually, not a girlfriend," he offered.
"Oh," Maureen said. She sounded a little disappointed. "Well, what's this guy's name?" she asked. "Where'd you meet him?" Here came the tricky part.
"Actually, we met up at one of my concerts about three months ago." Shit, it seemed insane that Mark and him had been together again for such a short amount of time. "I was surprised to see him there. I'd known him before that… for a long time, actually." He looked over at Mark and gestured at the phone questioningly, mouthing the word, "Ready?" Mark nodded, exhaling shakily. "Listen, why don't I put him on, and you guys can talk to him for a bit."
"Uh… okay?" Maureen stammered. He could just see the confused look on her face. "But… what's his name, Roger? You haven't even really introduced us and…"
"Just… let him talk to you," Roger cut her off, and handed the phone to Mark. He moved behind the filmmaker and wrapped his arms around his waist. Mark sighed slightly and leaned into the support. He needed it. Poor guy looked about ready to fall over he was so nervous. Roger rubbed a thumb soothingly up and down on his stomach, then kissed his temple.
"That's your cue," he whispered into Mark's ear when he froze. Mark stiffened a little in his arms and held the phone closer to his mouth. He cleared his throat into the receiver.
"Uh… hey, guys," he started, his voice a little shaky. Roger leaned in on the other side of the phone, and Mark tilted it so he could hear.
"…Mark?" Joanne asked, her voice coming out a little choked.
"Yeah… it's me. How… how have you two been?" Roger mentally counted down: 3, 2, 1…
They both jumped back from the phone at the shriek that pierced through their eardrums. Roger was fairly certain that even without the phone they would've heard Maureen all the way from New York.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" Maureen screamed after she'd taken a deep breath. "Oh my GOD, where the HELL have you been! Why the FUCK are you with Roger! What the HELL is going on! How ARE you!" Her questions came through rapid-fire, but Roger could still hear the smile in them, underneath all the freak-out.
"Well, the thing is…" Mark started.
Roger pulled over a chair, sitting down on it and drawing Mark into his lap as the filmmaker started to recount everything that had happened the past year. Mark squeezed one of Roger's arms wrapped around his waist and laced their fingers together, a silent thank you for the support. Roger just hugged him tighter and craned his neck to kiss Mark's cheek.
Three hours later, Mark hung up the phone with a weary sigh, then stretched to get the kinks out. Roger stood up and did the same.
"Jesus. Sorry that took so long. I didn't get too heavy, did I?" Roger just smiled and pulled Mark into his arms again.
"Nah," he said, bending down for a kiss. Mark smacked him lightly on the back of the head and pulled away with a laugh.
"Could you manage to keep your hands off me for two seconds?" he asked with a grin. Roger smiled back.
"Nope," he stated succinctly, grabbing Mark and catching his lips in a kiss before he could protest again. He deepened it slowly, tracing over Mark's teeth languidly before tangling their tongues together. A few moments later, he pulled back, noting with satisfaction the way Mark's blue eyes were hooded behind his glasses, the way he was panting slightly. Shit, they'd been together for more than two months, but he never seemed to get tired of that look on Mark's face. He didn't think he ever would.
"I don't think you want me to keep my hands off of you anyway," Roger commented. Mark smirked.
"God, I hate that I seem to be so fucking transparent when I'm around you," he griped, but pulled Roger a little closer anyway.
"You're transparent to anyone who takes the time to really look," Roger teased. "You did great with them. I'm really proud of you, baby." Mark snorted.
"Yeah, well, you probably gathered from the one side of the conversation you heard, but Maureen was really unhappy that I'd waited so long to call them. Joanne seemed a little more understanding, but they both were pretty pissed at first."
"They were just worried," Roger assured him. "So, when are they coming to visit?" Mark sighed.
"We've got two weeks to figure out how we're gonna tell them about us so that Maureen doesn't explode on the spot. It was gonna be a month, but Maureen was being her typical overbearing self and insisting they get on the next flight out, and Joanne said it would only take a little shuffling on her part to get here sooner."
"Two weeks… hmmm… wonder how we'll manage to find something to do until they get here," Roger mused.
Mark's only warning was a slight tensing of muscles, and before he could do anything, Roger had lifted him up and slung him over his shoulder. He let out a cry of surprise, and struggled a little before he realized they were headed into the bedroom.
"You are such an ass," he muttered, a smile lighting his face in spite of himself. Roger patted him on the rump, then tossed him unceremoniously onto the bed.
"That's the idea, Marky," he said with a grin before he pounced.
Somewhere in between the incoherent thoughts and half-voiced pleas of the next hour, Mark managed to become fairly certain that the next two weeks would pass by pretty quickly.
Two weeks later:
Chris pulled his shades off when the light faded upon entering the building. He was instantaneously accosted with the loud thumps and clacks of luggage on tile, voices bouncing with a tinny echo off the walls, the droning hum of escalators and moving sidewalks underneath it all. He fucking hated airports. Throngs of humanity scrambling around carrying all the things most precious to them in bags made out of polyester and dead animals, like so many ants.
Thankfully, Chris was lucky to be counted a god among insects.
He looked to see Roger tugging Mark over towards the huge screen with all the flight information ticking across it. Their hands were laced together, and when Mark finally caught up to him, Roger slung an arm over his shoulders. Chris smiled. Even he had to admit they made a really cute couple. He sighed. It made him feel a little like the third wheel, and this wasn't a Goddamn tricycle.
"This way," Roger announced after staring at the screen for a few minutes. Chris took one glance at it and grabbed the back of Roger's jacket before he could go too far.
"Slow down, boy," he chuckled. "I believe the correct direction you were looking for is over there." He pointed with a smirk, in the exact opposite direction Roger had been heading.
"Are you sure?" Roger asked, squinting at the board suspiciously. Chris rolled his eyes.
"No. I've just lived here for over ten years and have been to the Los Angeles International Airport at least three times every year of those ten years. And since you obviously have a perfect sense of direction, we should follow you and possibly miss your wonderful friends who are due to arrive in," Chris paused and glanced at the flight times, "approximately 20 minutes." Roger glared. Chris just smiled.
"Okay, we get it, Christian," Mark grumbled with a slight smirk. "You're always right."
"Always right? Now whoever told you that?" Chris asked, feigning innocent shock.
"You did. Several times."
"Ah. So I did. And what do you know, I was right in that statement too!" He laughed and headed towards the correct terminal, knowing that Mark and Roger followed just behind him.
"You are such an ass," Roger growled. Chris glanced over his shoulder.
"Proud of it. You know you love me anyway." That got him the scowl he'd been looking for. He grinned and kept walking, missing when Roger's scowl dissolved into a small smile of his own.
It didn't take them long to get there, with all the sections of moving sidewalk. Once they were finally there, Chris plopped down in the nearest chair. He pulled out his sunglasses and put them on again, glancing over when Mark and Roger took a seat beside him.
"Why are you wearing your sunglasses inside?" Mark asked, eyebrow raised. "Adding to your image?"
"Partially, yes," Chris admitted. "Mostly it's so I can study the masses without them realizing it. It's interesting to watch people when they aren't aware you're doing it."
So saying, he stretched out his legs and took a relaxed position, staring intently at the people swarming around in the sitting area. Roger and Mark both gave him a quizzical look, but started talking quietly to one another after a bit. Chris was satisfied when the small pang of jealousy went practically unnoticed. He hoped that in a few weeks the feeling and similar ones would be gone completely.
Roger and Mark were good together. He had to face facts. And he was facing them. He could honestly say he was as over Mark as he could ever expect to be. Sometimes it still hurt a little, sure, but knowing that Mark was happy was enough. It even surprised him that he was pleased Roger was happy as well. He'd come to respect and like the man much more than he ever thought he could, especially after that whole incident a little under three months ago. It didn't mean he wasn't above poking fun at the guitarist's expense now and again. But their cool tolerance of each other had warmed and changed into an honest to God real friendship. Chris didn't have many of those, and it was nice to know that he was big enough to connect that way with the man who'd basically stolen the affections of the love of his life.
Not that he could ever blame Roger for it, even if it was tempting to. After all, he could bitch, moan and feel sorry for himself all he wanted, but at the end of the day Mark was still going to be sleeping in Roger's bed. Chris much preferred moving on, even if it was slightly painful.
He sighed. Part of him knew he would always love Mark that way, but it was a part of him he could control, a part of him he could ignore until he found someone else to fill that spot in his life. And even if he did find someone else, he knew he'd always have a special spot in his heart for the filmmaker.
There he went with the sappy thoughts again. Really. He needed to get a grip on himself. He looked around, pausing his gaze on a group of tourists smiling and snapping photos before they'd even left the airport. Over to the left he watched a little boy play with some toy trucks, ramming one repeatedly into his father's shoe. An older man sat reading a newspaper, his breath wheezing in and out through a thick gray mustache.
He spent the next few minutes making similar observations. When he'd exhausted all of the interesting subjects in sight, he turned to look at his companions. They were huddled close together, foreheads almost touching, holding hands, still talking in hushed tones. He held back a snort. It would be obvious to a blind man that the two idiots were madly in love. He half expected them to just snap and start ripping each other's clothes off any second.
"Sooo…" he trailed, breaking into their realm where only the two of them existed, "you said you wanted me to keep quiet about you being together until you could find the right time to inform them? Hate to break it to you, kiddies, but if you keep carrying on like that they'll know something's up before they step off the plane." Mark blushed. Roger looked alternately confused and offended. Chris smiled. It looked good on him.
"Well, I figured we'd tone it down a bit when they got here," Mark said, glancing at Roger pleadingly. Roger sighed.
"Yeah, I guess we'll have to," he admitted. Then he smiled. "Even if we didn't, I'm sure Joanne would notice, but you know Maureen. She's blinded to everything that doesn't immediately have to do with her. She'd probably be completely oblivious." Mark laughed.
"Oh, c'mon, even she isn't that obtuse."
"Well, unless we started making out in front of her or something…" Roger trailed, leaning closer to Mark. Chris laughed.
"I never pegged you for an exhibitionist, Roger Davis," he admitted. "Kinky. You continue to surprise me. I can't believe you'd indulge in such degenerate behavior." Mark snorted.
"Sure, sure," Roger said with a wicked smile. "You know you just want to watch." Mark let out a choked sound and blushed again, turning a glare on his boyfriend. Chris chuckled.
"I didn't know I was so easy to read," he allowed, smirking when Mark let out another indignant noise and hunched into his chair, almost as if he was trying to disappear into the cushion. "However, I do believe we're embarrassing poor Marky, here. If he turns any redder I'm afraid he might explode." Roger started to reply, but Mark cut him off.
"Don't even think what you were about to say!" he snapped.
"Aww, it wasn't anything bad, Mark," Roger whined. "You're the one with the dirty mind here." Mark let out an exasperated huff.
"What is this, pick on Mark day? You guys are totally ganging up on me!" Chris grinned at that and opened his mouth only to have Mark snap a hand over it. The filmmaker pushed his other hand up against Roger's mouth for good measure when it looked like he was about to say something too. Chris was sure they made a very odd picture.
"Chill, you two," Mark growled in what was supposed to be a stern voice. It came out sounding like he was a chihuahua snapping at two pit bulls. They both nodded anyway and Mark lowered his hands.
"How much longer 'til they get here?" Roger asked to change the conversation. Mark looked over at him gratefully.
"Should be any minute now," he said after glancing at his watch.
"Remind me again why you wanted me to come?" Chris asked. "I really don't see why you needed three people to pick them up." Roger and Mark glanced at each other, then Mark turned back to his friend.
"Christian, you're just as much a part of our family now as they are," he said, then winced. "Sorry, that was cheesy… but, you know what I mean. We want them to get to know you, and we want you to be with us when we show them around. After all, who knows this city better than you?"
Christian's eyes widened. He was honestly startled by Mark's words. They really cared about him that much… not just Mark, but both of them? It was… a little overwhelming to say the least. Chris would absolutely never admit that his throat was tightening up, his chest swelling a little. Roger grinned.
"Holy shit, Chris is shocked speechless. It's the end of the world." Chris snapped out of it and punched the guitarist in the shoulder. He was about to reply when Mark jumped up.
"Look, guys, their flight's arrived," he pointed out. Sure enough, there were people streaming out of the terminal. Chris wondered how they'd missed the announcement of the arrival. Oh, well. He took a place on Mark's left, Roger on the filmmaker's right.
He knew who Maureen and Joanne were the minute he saw them. They were both quite lovely, if you were into the fairer sex, he supposed. They were bickering over their carry-on luggage. Joanne would be the one in the stylish but modest suit, and Maureen must be the one wearing heels sharp enough to snap bones, leather pants, a provocative top and bright red lipstick. The minute she saw Mark and Roger, she dropped her luggage and ran over, sweeping the filmmaker into a hug as she burst into tears. Huh. The girl didn't do anything half-way, did she?
Joanne had hung back slightly, but she looked no less excited to see Mark, and when he'd passed Maureen off to Roger, she pulled him into a slightly more subdued hug, relief apparent in every line of her body. After a moment or two, Mark nodded over to Chris and made introductions.
With his most charming smile, Chris stepped forward to greet the two women. His life was probably about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
The next day:
Mark's gaze shot back and forth like he was at a tennis match. He stopped for a moment and saw that Joanne was doing the same thing. Jesus. They'd been going at it for at least a half an hour now. He'd realized that both Maureen and Christian loved to be the center of attention, but this was getting ridiculous.
"–so that's how my second performance protesting the corruption in New York's fire-fighting system incited–"
"Don't tell me, a full-scale revolution of the bourgeoisie? Please. Now, you want a protest, you should have been there when some of my girls and I single handedly–"
"Ah, ah, ah! Not single handedly if you had friends to help. I've always done my protests all by myself." That was a blatant lie, Mark thought, and Joanne gave him an aggrieved stare.
"Semantics. Of course I spear-headed the operation. It was nothing less than a massive–"
"You want massive, you should've been there at my protest for the 11th street lot rezoning. There was a riot after that. Which wasn't really my fault, but I suppose I inspired everyone to–"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure it was your passion alone that got them all worked up. But didn't you just admit it wasn't really your fault? You can't have it both ways, my dear."
"Mark!" Maureen suddenly turned to him, the first time either of them had acknowledged any one else during the entire conversation. "You were there. You even filmed it and got it on the news, remember? I'm sure if you told him how I inspired all those people, he'd believe you. My performance was incredible that night, wasn't it?" she prompted him.
"I–" Mark started.
"Really? Incredible? Don't be so modest," Christian cut him off with the sarcastic comment. "Besides, don't you think you should let Mark pick his own adjectives?" He'd thrown in similar barbs before, as had Maureen, but it didn't seem to bother them. They were both almost glowing they were enjoying themselves so much.
"I was just stating a fact. Besides, Mark's never been good with adjectives," Maureen explained. Mark frowned.
"But–"
"That's where I'd have to disagree," Christian interrupted him again. "I'm sure he's intelligent enough to come up with an ample description."
"Hey–"
"That's not really the point, is it?" Maureen asked. She turned to Mark again. "Tell him, Mark."
"What–"
"Really, I don't see how this will make your case. What do you think, Mark?" Christian finally turned to him as well, and for the first time there was an actual pause in the conversation.
"I think you're both insane," Mark stated conclusively after a moment. Joanne started to chuckle, and after a second or two, Christian joined in. Maureen just looked mildly confused and offended and mumbled something along the lines of, "I don't see what's so funny." Christian grinned and patted her on the shoulder.
"Ah, don't feel bad, honey. I think we just got a little carried away," he explained. "It's been a fabulous talk, though, really. I haven't met someone who could keep up with me like that in years." Maureen smiled.
"You're just lucky Mark managed to derail you. I was winning." Christian opened his mouth, but Mark cut him off with a laugh.
"Enough, you guys!" Christian snapped his mouth closed and lowered his head slightly.
"Fine, fine. Maureen, my dear, I suggest we have a nice long chat later when we don't have a bored Mark and Joanne to entertain at the same time." He stooped and grabbed Maureen's hand, placing a small kiss on the back and grinning wickedly.
Maureen shot a similar smile right back at him. Joanne frowned.
"Chris, I swear to God, if you weren't–" she began.
"Gayer than a box of birds?" Christian cut her off. "Yes, I know. Rest assured all flirting is harmless and on an intellectual level only." Maureen looked over at her lover, her face melting into an exaggerated pout.
"Aw, Pookie, you're always so jealous! We were just talking!" she protested, pulling Joanne into her arms and making a kissy-face. Joanne sighed, exasperated, but pecked her on the lips anyway.
Mark smiled. It surprised him how easily they'd all slipped back into their old routines now that they were together again. Even in a completely different setting, Maureen and Joanne were still Maureen and Joanne. It was comforting in a way.
He couldn't help feeling like everything was finally right with the world, like things were finally how they should be. He realized it had been killing him to stay away from his friends for so long. He'd worried about the two girls more than he thought he would, and it was nice to see they were happy and… somewhat functional.
Last night Maureen and Joanne had been too tired from the trip to really do much of anything, but they'd all spent a couple hours at a café talking. After that, they'd headed back to their hotel, where Roger and Mark had picked them up earlier today. Maureen had almost immediately asked where, "that guy with the striped hair," was. So they'd called Christian and invited him along a few hours earlier than he'd been expecting them to.
It was almost inconceivable how quickly the two divas had hit it off, Mark thought with a grin. He'd have expected them to just annoy the hell out of each other, but apparently they enjoyed the challenge of having to fight for the spotlight. And Christian certainly loved making subtle comments and insults that Maureen completely missed. If they could keep themselves under control, it would be a win-win situation.
Earlier they hadn't been that bad. It was only in the last hour or so that they'd really started getting absorbed in themselves. Before that Mark had been surprised by how much Maureen had actually paid attention to him, how she kept giving him little glances out of the corner of her eye when someone else was talking, almost as if she was making sure he was still there. He hadn't realized his leaving had had such a huge effect on her. It was sort of humbling. He hadn't really thought Maureen would care.
Even Joanne had acted relieved to see him. In her own stern but caring way she'd taken a moment to scold him for taking so long to contact them. She'd also been giving little signs of affection that she'd never shown towards him before. She'd pat him on the shoulder or back, had given him hugs upon greeting and parting, and at one point had placed her hand on top of his at the table and given a little squeeze. It had freaked him out at first, because Joanne wasn't really big on touching. After a while he'd realized that she must have actually missed him a lot as well.
Everything about having the two women visit was turning out to be great. He was glad that his nervousness before they'd shown up had been completely misplaced. The only thing that had been driving him crazy was that they still didn't know about Roger and him. It always seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but how were you supposed to bring something like that up? He'd asked Roger about it earlier, and the guitarist had just smiled and said, "Don't worry, we'll figure it out." When Mark had pressed the issue, Roger had looked thoughtful for a second, and then his face had lit up as he said, "Actually, now that you mention it, I have an idea. Just wait until the show tonight. I'll take care of it."
That's where they were now, waiting for Roger and the Well Hungarians to take the stage. It was a small venue; just one of the local dance-clubs. The place was packed, which was understandable. The band had been able to fill large venues easily, but Roger, Blake and Jeff insisted on playing small ones every once in a while. They said it helped them keep in touch with their roots. Roger liked playing to a smaller crowd anyway. He seemed to prefer the intimate feel of it.
Thankfully, since they were "with the band", they'd been allowed to hang out backstage in the wings where it wasn't nearly as crowded. Roger was busy double checking the amps now, and had spent the last hour or so setting up with Blake and Jeff. When they played small venues, they liked to do everything themselves, just like the old days. At least Roger said he did. Mark wasn't sure how the other two felt about it.
Mark realized belatedly that he'd been zoning out a little when Joanne said his name sharply, and he guessed it had probably been about the third time she'd repeated it. He snapped out of it and smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry, Joanne," he said. "What did you say?" Christian and Maureen had started talking to each other like auctioneers on crack again while he'd been out of it. They weren't paying any attention to either of them anymore.
"It's fine," Joanne assured him. "I've just been meaning to ask… well, I wanted to wait until Maureen was occupied, because I didn't know if this was a personal question or not, and I didn't want to pry."
"Don't worry about it," Mark prompted. "What was it?" Joanne looked a little uncomfortable about asking still, but she'd obviously been wondering for a while, and curiosity was beating out her sense of propriety. She lifted her left hand and tapped her ring finger.
"The ring?" she asked shortly. Mark's eyes widened.
Shit. Leave it to Joanne to notice something like that. She obviously hadn't made the connection to Roger because she must be used to seeing him with one on. He'd worn one ever since Mimi and him had gotten married, after all, and you'd have to look closely to see the difference between the one he wore now and the one he used to wear. Mark opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by a loud opening guitar riff.
He sighed, feeling slightly relieved. It seemed his explanation would have to wait.
The sound was almost deafening in the crowded club, music soaring over the screams and cheers of the people practically writhing in the audience. The Well Hungarians lit up the stage, their lead guitarist belting out the lyrics, his rough voice ripping into the melody energetically. Maureen and Joanne watched in something akin to stunned awe.
"Holy SHIT!" Maureen screamed over the music, "They've gotten SO much better!"
Mark hadn't really noticed, but he supposed it was true. They really had improved a lot since signing their new contract. Whether that was because they had more resources, better equipment, or just more experience, Mark wasn't sure.
Roger was in his element, like he always was onstage. Knowing that Mark was watching always seemed to give him a focus, an edge that he couldn't quite replicate without the filmmaker there. He glanced into the wings, his heart giving a little jump at the small, proud smile Mark had on his face. A smile he wasn't hiding behind his camera anymore.
The band performed some of their old songs, going through the highlights from their first album. With sweat rolling into his eyes, Roger stepped closer to the mic in between songs towards the end of the first set.
"After this next song we're gonna take a little break," he explained, grinning when a few groans of disappointment came up from the audience. "This is a brand new one off our latest album, which will be available next month on the 23rd." He paused at the cheer that went up. He glanced backstage and gave a sheepish grin. "I know I probably should've waited until next week, since that's our three month anniversary, but no time like the present, right? This one's for you, Mark."
Mark's eyes widened. Fuck, Roger wasn't kidding when he said he'd take care of it, was he? Mark knew he should probably be a little ticked off, but he couldn't help the amused smile from creeping onto his face. Vaguely, he could hear Christian cracking up behind him. Joanne's eyebrows shot up, and it only took her a second to figure out the meaning behind Mark's ring. Maureen was sputtering incoherently.
"Wait, wait, what the FUCK does that mean!" she asked, before the song started and cut her off.
Hit back, it won't hurt you
Lean in, no inertia
Bold is the love that I fight to save
Head on, no collision
Confusion, indecision
I don't believe I'm too far to be saved
Maureen was still buzzing behind Mark, and Joanne was trying to calm her down over the music. Chris looked a little surprised, but still more amused than anything. For Mark, everyone else but Roger had ceased to exist.
Twist and turn me, bait and burn me
Smile and send me to oblivion
Breathe and bathe me, just be and save me
Know I'm just here to the left of you
And when there's only the dark
I can still see the light in your eyes
Roger had started glancing backstage, and now his eyes were locked with Mark's. There was his reason for singing, for being, for everything, and it was becoming difficult to keep his mind on the lyrics.
Dream on, fill me up now
I bet you know just how loud I can scream, don't you let me go
Feed on infatuation
Swallow, just one taste of all that I am, all I have to show
Twist and turn me, bait and burn me
Smile and send me to oblivion
Breathe and bathe me, just be and save me
Know I'm just here to the left of you
And when there's only the dark I can still see the light
When there's only the dark you are always the light
In my eyes
The song finished to screaming applause. Roger turned back to the crowd, smiled and said, "Don't go anywhere, we'll be right back." Then he was setting down his guitar and sauntering backstage, attempting to look much more calm and collected than he felt.
"Soooo, what'd you think?" he asked Mark when he'd reached him.
Roger's eyes widened momentarily when Mark didn't answer him, but pulled him down into a kiss. Roger grinned against his mouth. Damn, Mark must have completely forgotten anyone else was there; either that, or he momentarily didn't give a shit. He wondered what Maureen's face looked like.
He didn't have much time to wonder, because after wrapping his arms around Mark's waist and pulling him closer, their mouths opening to share breath, tongues colliding, Roger pretty much drew a blank. After a few moments, they parted slightly, and Roger placed a soft kiss to Mark's forehead.
"Liked it, then?" he asked. Mark smacked him lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't fish for compliments," he muttered, but smiled anyway and added, "Loved it."
They still had their arms around each other and were grinning like two idiots in love when Chris cleared his throat loudly. They turned. Roger could almost see the situation finally registering in Mark's mind as his face went from questioning to horrified to bright red in 0.3 seconds.
"Well, so much for my theory about Roger being the exhibitionist out of the two of you," Chris stated. "However, I think you've broken her." He pointed a finger in Maureen's direction.
The drama queen was standing stock-still, her eyes wide and mouth gaping open. She blinked.
"Uh… Maureen?" Mark asked. He glanced at Joanne, who looked surprised, but remarkably less so than her lover. She shrugged. Chris walked over to Maureen and snapped in front of her face. She smacked his hand away.
"HOLY FUCK!" she finally exclaimed when her mouth caught up to her. "I mean, SHIT, what the HELL, you guys are, I mean I never thought, well, yeah, now in hindsight I can, but oh my GOD, that was the HOTTEST THING EVER!" Mark blushed even redder. Maureen pranced over and hugged them both in one move. Then she smacked Roger on the back of the head.
"What the fuck, Roger!" she asked. "You guys have been together three whole months! And you haven't told me! Details!" Joanne laughed and moved over to them.
"And what kind of way was that to break it to us?" she asked. "A little dramatic, don't you think?" Roger grinned.
"Yeah, well, I figured it'd be easiest… since I wouldn't have to think about how to bring it up in a conversation. Besides, I really wanted to use that song tonight anyway."
"Well, I was about to–" Joanne trailed off and grabbed Roger's left hand. She looked at his ring more closely and then let it go, copying the process with Mark. "Ah. I thought so."
"Wait, wait, RINGS!" Maureen squealed. "That is so fucking CUTE!" She started babbling again, asking ten questions without pausing to let them answer. Chris looked on in amusement, leaning against the wall.
"Man, that's fuckin' crazy," he heard to his right, and looked over to see Blake watching too. "I mean, fuck, man, I can't believe they just– you know– in front of everyone!" Blake was even blushing slightly under his dark skin. Chris rolled his eyes and smiled.
Without warning, he turned, grabbed the front of Blake's shirt, and pulled him forward sharply. Blake's eyes widened comically in the second before their lips touched, but then Chris was kissing him, practically raping his mouth, pinning him to the wall. Blake let out a somewhat unmanly squeal, and Chris pulled back, their lips separating with a loud smack. He grinned.
"You seriously need to get over it," he explained, straightening Blake's shirt and then patting him on the head like a terrier. "It's not that big of a deal." Then he walked away, heading towards the bar with a slight bounce in his step, whistling. Blake watched him go, his eyes widened in disbelief.
He turned to see that Maureen, Joanne, Roger and Mark were all staring at him with looks mirroring his own on their faces. Apparently, they'd seen the whole thing. Mark shook his head slowly.
"Our friends are fucked up," he stated succinctly. Roger smiled and kissed him on the lips.
"So are we," he answered. Mark laughed.
"And strangely, I'm finding that might not be such a bad thing," he said.
Roger just kissed him again.
THE END
For real this time. No foolin'. God... that just... depresses me.
Anyway, the song used in this chapter is "Just Here to the Left of You" by Adam Pascal. (Like the other song I used, if you listen to it, it's like it's ROGER singing! XD :headdesk:) Anyways, all credit goes to him for that. Woopee.
The one-shots should start being posted tomorrow. I have a couple in reserve. Tonight I'm just too tired and a little sad that the big part is over.
But here's the GIFT I promised. I was drawing. So I ended up drawing Christian, only in a creepy sort of anime way... cuz I'm a loser. Thought you'd all possibly like a gander anyways. Just take out the spaces:
http/i28. photobucket. com/ albums/ c208/ MariaBubbia / Christian2. jpg
that's all folks. Thanks for reading! And please, even though it's the end, don't slack off on reviews. I would cry. TT