A/N: So this is my first MoJo fic. Please be kind...
"Maureen, you're not going anywhere without apologizi—MAUREEN!" Joanne Jefferson called after her now ex-girlfriend as she stomped down the hallway.
Maureen apparently had no intention of ceasing her dramatic exit as she stormed out of the house. This was no different from any of their other fights, at least that was what it seemed to Joanne. Maureen had performed her usual act: yelling about how it was always Joanne's fault, packing her things and threatening to move in with Mark and Roger. It was the same old thing. And, honestly, Joanne was getting sick of it. The whole start of the fight had been petty and ridiculous: Maureen had complained about how Joanne was always working and that they never spent time together. Joanne denied this and said that they would be spending more time together if Maureen didn't decide to flirt with every human being that came her way and cause arguments between them. That comment set Maureen off like a teapot, howling on and on about how she didn't flirt with everyone...Joanne laughed bitterly at the thought.
The only thing different about this particular argument was that Maureen was actually acting on her threat. She was leaving. For real this time.
"Maureen...Maureen!" Joanne kept running, refusing to give up after all the effort she'd put into her relationship with drama queen Maureen.
Maureen finally whirled around, her curly brown hair swinging back and forth as she did so. "What do you want? And make it quick, Joanne, because I need a lot of time to make puppy-dog eyes and persuade Mark and Roger to let me stay with them so I don't have to live with you."
Joanne snorted. "Ha. As if they'd let you. You know how Roger is—"
"Just try and stop me," Maureen retorted. And before Joanne could protest, she was gone.
Joanne slowly turned around and made her way back toward the door.
"...Shit."
Mark Cohen literally almost spit the coffee back into his cup when Maureen explained her story and asked to crash at their loft for "just a little while" that afternoon.
Roger laughed. "You're moving out because Joanne was stating the truth?"
"Ex-cuh-use me?!" Maureen huffed.
"You do flirt with everything that moves. I can't blame her," was Roger's frank reply.
Maureen's eyes widened. "You agree with her?! Whose side are you on, Roger? I've known you forever and you don't have the decency to—"
"Just crash here," Mark interrupted quietly.
Maureen smirked satisfactorily and turned to Mark, smiling at him. "Marky, did I ever tell you that you're adorable and cute and amazing?"
Mark blushed violently. "I wish you had," he blurted, and, realizing what he'd said, blushed once again.
"Fine. Whatever," Roger reluctantly agreed, "But you're sleeping on the couch and fendin' for yourself, Maureen. After all, you said you'd only be here for a little while, right?"
Maureen shrugged. "Depends. If Pookie realizes her mistakes quickly enough, then, yeah."
"Joanne better hurry her ass up and apologize..." Roger muttered before going back to his room to wait for Mimi to come home from work. Mark, still slightly blushing, scurried away to work on his film. Maureen let out a dramatic sigh and flopped down onto the tattered old couch.
"I bet Pookie misses me already..." she thought.
Joanne gulped down her third cup of coffee in a row as she sat alone at The Life Café. When Joanne was upset, she drank coffee. When she was angry, she drank coffee.
When she was upset, angry, annoyed, and infuriated with Maureen Johnson, she drank coffee. It was a habit of hers. Black coffee with a little packet of sugar—Joanne Jefferson's therapy.
"...And she had no right to just walk out on me like that..." Joanne muttered to herself, staring resentfully at the bracelet Maureen had given to her not even two months earlier. "I'm not the one flirting with everyone in sight, am I? No. That's her problem. And I've addressed it many times, but do you think she listens? Would she actually listen to me? Hah. She barely even listens when I tell her that I love her...Good God. Mark, even though he's one helluva pipsqueak, was right about her...I shoulda never...Shoulda never...Dammit..."
Little did she know that her voice had become exceedingly louder with each passing sentence. She looked up, realizing that a waitress was standing in front of her, her eyes shifting back and forth awkwardly. "Can...I...uh...get you another coffee?"
TBC? That depends on you, the reviewers? Lovin' it? Hatin' it? R&R, please!!!