A/N: FINAL CHAPTER! Thank you, everyone, for reviewing all this time. You guys are amazing. Yes, the title of this chapter is a Rocky Horror reference in case anyone was interested. Look at my other stuff (and more in the future) and review it! Thanks!

FINAL DISCLAIMER: Jonathan Larson owns Rent. Durr.

Joanne Jefferson knew she didn't have any time to lose at this point. She was going home...to her real home. She was almost positive that Maureen wouldn't be there when she opened the door, but it was nice to think so. Either way, whatever crap Maureen planned to throw at her in the future was something that Joanne was ready for now. She wasn't going to put up with anyone stepping all over her, especially Maureen Johnson

But she'd also learned a lot of things to better herself as well. I need to watch my tongue and be more patient, she'd concluded over the past few days, 'Cause otherwise I'll be going nowhere fast...

She was afraid of what would happen between her and Maureen, although she wouldn't dare admit it. Whether things would work out for the better or for the worse was something Joanne left up to "The Big Man Upstairs". I need a hand, God. Care to help me out?

"Yeah, so Maureen went home yesterday," Mimi Marquez said into the phone receiver nonchalantly, spreading some jelly on her peanut-butter sandwich with one hand and holding the phone with the other. "Roger said he thought she'd never leave..." A pause as Mimi let the person on the other line speak. "No kidding?! Oh, my God! I was waiting for this to happen...Chica, I'm telling you I knew this was gonna happen...No, I don't think I'm some kind of psychic, I just knew."

Mark Cohen, followed closely by Roger Davis, entered the kitchen area of the loft. Mark reached for the bag of bread and the strawberry jam.

"Who are you talking to?" Roger mouthed to Mimi, who rolled her eyes.

"Hold on a sec, chica." She put a hand on the receiver. "It's Angel. Joanne decided to go home yesterday, too! Do you believe it?"

Mark looked up from pouring himself some apple juice. "Really?"

"Yeah, they just happened to decide to go back to their house at the same exact time right?" Roger mumbled, "Dear God, that sounds like something from a bad chick flick. A bad, lesbian chick flick."

Mimi personally put the phone down to grab the butter knife and jokingly pretend to stab him.

"You're lucky that stupid thing doesn't have a sharp edge!" Roger shouted, ducking from Mimi's swings. Mark chuckled and sipped his apple juice.

Meanwhile, Angel was still talking on the other end: "Mimi? You still there?...Mimi?!

¿Dónde estás? Ah, mi Dios, you're not trying to kill Roger again, are you?"

"OUCH!" Maureen screamed loudly. She was unpacking all of her belongings and arranging them where she saw fit, but considering the fact that she had dramatically thrown all of her stuff on the ground before sorting it out, she was tripping over every article of clothing in sight. At this point, she was stumbling and falling onto the hardwood floor every two minutes or so, and was getting frustrated. She decided to take a break and sit down on the bed.

Surveying the entire room, Maureen observed that besides the clutter she'd brought in, everything had been untouched since she and Joanne had left. There was the picture of the two of them that Mark had taken sitting on the dresser. On the bureau sat a random bottle of perfume that Maureen remembered using the night before she'd packed her bags.

"God...Everything's the same," she whispered out loud, "...But...we're not."

"We can be," a hushed voice replied, prompting Maureen to jump and turn around to face the doorway.

Joanne Jefferson was standing there, suitcases in hand, an eyebrow raised. "Hurricane Maureen just struck this bedroom, I see. You do plan on cleaning that up, right?"

"You always were a neat freak," Maureen replied, standing up and hesitantly taking a couple of steps toward Joanne. She watched as Joanne calmly placed her suitcases in the corner of the room and ran a hand through her dark hair.

"So..." Maureen muttered, "What are you...doing here?"

Joanne chuckled lightly. "I was just about to ask you the same question."

Before either of them could say anything more, they were in each other's arms. Maureen was crying silently, resting her head against Joanne's shoulder.

"I'm...so...sorry," she choked through her tears.

Joanne kissed the top of her girlfriend's head. "It was my fault too, Maureen...it's okay...we're okay..."

They held each other, not caring how many seconds, minutes, hours went by as they stood there in the middle of the room, making up for all of the time that had been whisked away from them.

"So, you two are officially back together, huh?" Collins inquired, his arms wrapped around Angel who was smiling brightly at the reconciled couple. The entire group of friends were gathered, once again, at the loft.

"Yup," Maureen chirped. Her arm was linked with Joanne's, their fingers intertwined.

Mimi clapped excitedly. "It's about damn time, you idiots! You know you love each other!"

Joanne smiled sheepishly, prompting Maureen to giggle.

"That's so cute," Angel squealed, prompting Roger to fake-gag.

"Why are you girls always so corny?" he asked, munching on a chip from a can of Pringles. "This kind of shit makes me sick."

Collins and Mark burst out laughing in unison, while Mimi huffed and crossed her arms. "You're losers. All of you."

"But do we take part in real-life soap operas? No, thank you," retorted Collins, his hands in the air. Angel rolled her eyes and slapped his arm. Normal conversation began afterwards.

"Oh, by the way," Maureen faced Mark, Roger, and Mimi. "I am never moving in with you people again. It was bad enough being with two of you idiots in high school. Living with you here sucked."

It was then that everyone had a very strong feeling that Maureen and Joanne would gladly make up from an argument than ever "move out" again. Maybe they would even stop fighting for a while.

"Let's have a dance-off!" Maureen shouted. Her friends glared at her quizzically.

Joanne turned to face her girlfriend. "Why would we have a dance-off?"

"Because I said so," Maureen replied flatly.

"I hate dance-offs."

"Since when, pookie?"

"Since forever, Maureen. Who would want to have a dance-off in Mark and Roger's living room?"

"We would!"

"That is the most ridiculous idea I have ever heard."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Well, it is nice to dream, isn't it?"

FIN.