Title: Paper or Plastic?
Author: Kait Sudol of DOOM.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. The boys belong to the estate of Jonathan Larson, who probably never pictured hair gel being used in quite these ways.
Summary: Mark makes a big mistake. Roger makes a new friend. Who knew shopping could be this much fun?
Rating: R
Notes: This is for Liss, who made me write it. Evil, evil Liss. ::hisses at Liss:: ::oooh, that sort of rhymed:: Yes. Anyway. I hope this is fluffy enough for you.

Paper or Plastic?


"Put that back where it came from!"

Roger scowled, looking longingly at the Count Chocula cereal he was holding.

"But Maaaaaark!" he whined. "It's got a whole bunch of the food groups! Cereal and Milk and... uh... marshmallow." Mark glared at Roger pointedly, feeling quite like his mother for one eerie moment.

"Down, Roger." Roger finally complied, muttering under his breath all the while. "Look, we came here to get condoms, dinner, hair gel, tea, and beer. We don't have enough money to go and buy everything else in the store." His face was set despite Roger's pout.

"But... chocolate..." He sighed. "Fine." He absently followed Mark down the toiletries isle, running to catch up with the cart after being distracted by some very colorful children's toothbrushes. Mark was already stocking up on the hair gel that Roger refused to live without. Roger picked up one of the bottles already in the cart, his mind starting to whir with some possibilities he had never thought of before.

"You've got that thinking look on your face," Mark said absently as he looked through his pocket for the coupons he had been saving since their last shopping trip. Ah. Yes, he was right, this one did have hair gel at two for one. He tossed some more into the cart. "What's on your mind?" Roger bit his lip, puzzling over something for another moment before speaking.

"Do you think that we could use hair gel as lube if we got really desperate?"

CRASH!

Mark whirled around. A woman standing behind them holding a small child had dropped three containers of No More Tears onto the floor.

"Well I've never!" she shouted, attempting to cover her little boy's ears.

"You've never what?" Roger asked before Mark could stop him. "Used hair gel as lube?" After another offended screech, Mark smacked the musician, hard.

"Terribly sorry, Ma'am," he muttered, his face turning scarlet. "He doesn't get out much. And, uh, we're really sorry, it won't happen again...really..." The woman huffed and stomped up the aisle, probably on her way to tell the manager. Mark held his head between his hands, temples throbbing.

"I'm getting a migraine...I knew I should have left you at home..." Roger looked slightly offended.

"But I wanted to come!" he insisted. "I wanted to be with you, Mark!" Mark sighed as Roger's arms found his waist from behind. "I'm sorry," the musician murmured. "I didn't mean to... do whatever it was that I did."

"I know, baby," Mark muttered. "I know. But-" He stopped short as he felt Roger's fingers sneak beneath the hem of his shirt. "But if you molest me in public," he continued, slightly aggravated, "Then you'll never come with me ever again, in every sense of the word." He turned his neck to shoot Roger a look. The hands let go of his shirt and Roger stepped away.

"Sor-ry," he said, somehow finding the ability to perfectly mimic the voice of a three-year-old who wasn't really sorry at all. Mark shook his head, wondering what on earth possessed him to invite Roger along to the Food Emporium for a shopping trip. Chalking it up to a bit of temporary insanity, he pushed the cart forward and motioned for Roger to follow.

"Look, all we need to get is tea and beer. Can I trust you to find the beer for yourself and bring it back here without breaking anything?" Of course not. But he liked to take time picking out tea and with Roger next to him the whole time, squealing like a five year old and pointing out new things to buy, that would be quite impossible.

"Yep!" Roger said enthusiastically, taking off down the aisle without a second glance. Mark raised his eyes heavenward for a moment before calling him back.

"ROGER!"

"What?" Mark pointed towards the opposite end of the store.

"You see that sign that says 'Liquor' over there?" Roger glanced up and his face slowly broke out into a smirk.

"Ooooh," he said. "Gotcha." And then ran off in that direction. Mark shook his head again and pushed the cart down the tea and coffee aisle.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he stood there, staring at the different types of tea. He mentally went over what he had recently, what he was in the mood for, and what promised the most "calming relief" from the headache he was sure to have by the time he got home. Just as he finally settled on some strong herbal honey, he heard familiar footsteps behind him. He turned just in time to see Roger walking up behind him with two cases of beer, a business card, and a smug grin. His mind reeled with the possibilities of the trouble that Roger had gotten himself into. None of those possibilities seemed good.

"Hey Mark, I found the beer!" he said triumphantly. "And you'll never guess what happened! Some lady heard my idea about using hair gel for lube and said she'd pay us $400 each to have sex and let her watch and tape us! Isn't that great? She gave me her card!" Mark lowered his head, muttering to himself to try and keep from choking Roger as his lover placed the cases of beer into the cart. He briefly thought about what he could buy for $400 before abruptly snapping his head up and pushing the cart away. "But... I mean, we have sex all the time anyway!" Roger called after him, running to catch up. Mark was already at the check out lane, throwing their groceries onto the conveyor belt and handing his coupons to the bubble gum popping cashier. "I mean, $400 each! That's like..."

"Eight hundred," Mark muttered through gritted teeth as he paid for their things.

"Yeah! Do you know what we could do with $800?" Mark grabbed two of their bags, letting Roger grab the last as he wheeled the cart back to the street. "Do you?" Mark squeezed his eyes shut.

"We are going home, Roger. Without a strange woman with a fetish for gay porn, without Count Chocula and with about two hundred new grey hairs on my part!" Roger was quiet for a moment as he followed Mark across the street and up to their corner.

"You're not happy," he said slowly after a minute.

"Great observation."

"Oh...sorry..." A pause as Mark fumbled for the key to the loft and shoved the door to their building open, taking the stairs two at a time. Roger followed, opening the door to the loft with his own set of keys. "I guess that means no sex than, huh?" Mark dropped his bags on the floor near the door, a deliciously evil smile coming over his face as he turned around faced Roger.

"Oh no. Oh, no, there will be sex. But you will not be walking right for days, my friend." Roger dropped his bag to the floor as he felt Mark's hands clothes around his collar and heard the door slam shut, distantly wondering if this could possibly be a good thing...

.end.


Comments to kait@frowl.org