[rent fic] Gifts (Mark, Maureen, PG-13)
Gifts
Fandom: Rent
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mark, Maureen
Ships: just the canon ones
Summary: Set about a year after the end of the musical. Mark needs an opinion and he trusts Maureen to be brutally honest.
A/N: Approx. 840 words. My fourth Hanukkah ficlet. (Yes, I am very behind. Tonight is the last night of Hanukkah and I have four ficlets left to write!) The prompt for this one was presents.
Mark and Maureen meet one afternoon in Central Park. The benches are snow-covered, so they walk despite the fact that they've each had a long morning, Maureen at her studio, Mark at the coffee shop where he now works.
Beyond the snowy lawn and ice-rimed Turtle Pond, Belvedere Castle stands quiet and dreamy against the ashen sky. Mark would like to film it, but he came here from work and left his camera at the apartment. Going out without it still feels strange after three months. It's worse than losing his glasses; it's like missing an eye.
Still, he doubts he could capture the damp, dirty taste of the air, or the way the cold gnaws his exposed face and ears, or the melancholy that Maureen keeps in check simply by being beside him.
He steals a glance at her as they plod through the snow. There are circles under her eyes and the corners of her mouth are turned downward. He wonders how she and Joanne are doing in their new apartment; he's been so busy working and keeping Roger from falling apart while he tends to Mimi that he hasn't seen much of either of them.
Sometimes Mark wishes that Collins were still here. Collins would have kept them together, he thinks, would have made them laugh despite illness, deadlines, cold, and grueling schedules. But Collins has been living in Santa Fe these past four months and - if his postcards can be believed - is enjoying himself, despite the fact that he's there without Angel.
Maureen's bootlace comes undone. As she bends to tie it, her parka rides up. She's wearing low-slung jeans - and a lace thong. Mark stares unabashedly. He's not interested in her anymore - not that way - but he appreciates the view. Maureen's got a great ass.
"I got you a Hanukkah present, by the way," Maureen says over her shoulder.
"I'm enjoying it," says Mark, grinning.
"But I haven't-" Maureen glances up, confused, figures out what he's staring at, and jumps to her feet. "That," she says, jabbing his chest with her finger, "is as close to lucky as you are going to get."
Mark huffs. "What makes you think I'm not getting any? You haven't seen me in weeks. For all you know, I could be up to my neck in…you know."
"Pussy?" Maureen says brightly.
Mark flushes.
"Oh, Mark." She stops poking him, and pats his cheek fondly. "I know you, pookie. You're not getting any." She kisses the tip of his nose and twirls so quickly that he gets a mouthful of her hair.
Spluttering and still flushing deeply, he hurries after her, the snow crunching beneath his boots. "So, what did you get me for Hanukkah?"
"Ha! Like I'm going to tell you now."
He catches up with her, grabs her arm, makes her stop. "Fine. Will you look at what I got for the rest of you for Christmas?"
"I thought you said you couldn't afford anything." Her face brightens. "Whatcha get me?"
"Not you. Everyone. It's-" He feels odd. This is the reason he asked her to meet him here, to ask her if this would be all right. But he's as unsure now as he was when he called her from the coffee shop. "It's something I made."
"A film?"
"No. It's-" From his pocket he draws a small thing wrapped carefully in tissue paper. He offers it to her and she must understand that this is something he considers special, because she takes it gently.
The paper comes away like flower petals. What remains is a small doll with a porcelain body, hair snipped from a Barbie doll's head, and clothes hand-made from bits of fabric, yarn, and sequins.
"That's…" Maureen's voice is thick.
"Angel," Mark says unnecessarily. "I figured… We don't have a tree, but I thought you and Joanne might. And a tree needs an angel for the top. I just figured I should show it to you first. Roger and Mimi don't know. If it sucked, I figured you'd be the one most likely to let me know."
Maureen sniffles loudly. "It's beautiful. I miss her." She drops her head against Mark's shoulder and, after an awkward beat, he wraps her arms around her.
"We have a tree." Her voice is muffled against his jacket. "It has a star, but an angel's better."
"And Collins won't mind?" He gets her hair in his mouth again; this time it's not so bad.
"He'll love it. It'll be so good seeing him again and having everyone together. I mean, not everyone, but…"
"Yeah."
So, he's not the only one who misses the family they used to be. Sometimes it seems to Mark as if his friends are all rushing off in different directions while he's stuck standing in one place. As he and Maureen hold each other and draw ragged breaths, as their feet become numb with cold, he thinks that maybe he can bear it.
01/01/06
Fandom: Rent
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Mark, Maureen
Ships: just the canon ones
Summary: Set about a year after the end of the musical. Mark needs an opinion and he trusts Maureen to be brutally honest.
A/N: Approx. 840 words. My fourth Hanukkah ficlet. (Yes, I am very behind. Tonight is the last night of Hanukkah and I have four ficlets left to write!) The prompt for this one was presents.
Mark and Maureen meet one afternoon in Central Park. The benches are snow-covered, so they walk despite the fact that they've each had a long morning, Maureen at her studio, Mark at the coffee shop where he now works.
Beyond the snowy lawn and ice-rimed Turtle Pond, Belvedere Castle stands quiet and dreamy against the ashen sky. Mark would like to film it, but he came here from work and left his camera at the apartment. Going out without it still feels strange after three months. It's worse than losing his glasses; it's like missing an eye.
Still, he doubts he could capture the damp, dirty taste of the air, or the way the cold gnaws his exposed face and ears, or the melancholy that Maureen keeps in check simply by being beside him.
He steals a glance at her as they plod through the snow. There are circles under her eyes and the corners of her mouth are turned downward. He wonders how she and Joanne are doing in their new apartment; he's been so busy working and keeping Roger from falling apart while he tends to Mimi that he hasn't seen much of either of them.
Sometimes Mark wishes that Collins were still here. Collins would have kept them together, he thinks, would have made them laugh despite illness, deadlines, cold, and grueling schedules. But Collins has been living in Santa Fe these past four months and - if his postcards can be believed - is enjoying himself, despite the fact that he's there without Angel.
Maureen's bootlace comes undone. As she bends to tie it, her parka rides up. She's wearing low-slung jeans - and a lace thong. Mark stares unabashedly. He's not interested in her anymore - not that way - but he appreciates the view. Maureen's got a great ass.
"I got you a Hanukkah present, by the way," Maureen says over her shoulder.
"I'm enjoying it," says Mark, grinning.
"But I haven't-" Maureen glances up, confused, figures out what he's staring at, and jumps to her feet. "That," she says, jabbing his chest with her finger, "is as close to lucky as you are going to get."
Mark huffs. "What makes you think I'm not getting any? You haven't seen me in weeks. For all you know, I could be up to my neck in…you know."
"Pussy?" Maureen says brightly.
Mark flushes.
"Oh, Mark." She stops poking him, and pats his cheek fondly. "I know you, pookie. You're not getting any." She kisses the tip of his nose and twirls so quickly that he gets a mouthful of her hair.
Spluttering and still flushing deeply, he hurries after her, the snow crunching beneath his boots. "So, what did you get me for Hanukkah?"
"Ha! Like I'm going to tell you now."
He catches up with her, grabs her arm, makes her stop. "Fine. Will you look at what I got for the rest of you for Christmas?"
"I thought you said you couldn't afford anything." Her face brightens. "Whatcha get me?"
"Not you. Everyone. It's-" He feels odd. This is the reason he asked her to meet him here, to ask her if this would be all right. But he's as unsure now as he was when he called her from the coffee shop. "It's something I made."
"A film?"
"No. It's-" From his pocket he draws a small thing wrapped carefully in tissue paper. He offers it to her and she must understand that this is something he considers special, because she takes it gently.
The paper comes away like flower petals. What remains is a small doll with a porcelain body, hair snipped from a Barbie doll's head, and clothes hand-made from bits of fabric, yarn, and sequins.
"That's…" Maureen's voice is thick.
"Angel," Mark says unnecessarily. "I figured… We don't have a tree, but I thought you and Joanne might. And a tree needs an angel for the top. I just figured I should show it to you first. Roger and Mimi don't know. If it sucked, I figured you'd be the one most likely to let me know."
Maureen sniffles loudly. "It's beautiful. I miss her." She drops her head against Mark's shoulder and, after an awkward beat, he wraps her arms around her.
"We have a tree." Her voice is muffled against his jacket. "It has a star, but an angel's better."
"And Collins won't mind?" He gets her hair in his mouth again; this time it's not so bad.
"He'll love it. It'll be so good seeing him again and having everyone together. I mean, not everyone, but…"
"Yeah."
So, he's not the only one who misses the family they used to be. Sometimes it seems to Mark as if his friends are all rushing off in different directions while he's stuck standing in one place. As he and Maureen hold each other and draw ragged breaths, as their feet become numb with cold, he thinks that maybe he can bear it.
01/01/06