Part 7: Someone Down There is Trying to Kill Us
Posted 8.8.02



The clock was moving unbearably slowly. Mark's eyes barely flicked away from the ticking second hand and when they did it was only to see if the baby had finished her food yet. Then back to the clock. *Christ, if she could just finish already we could be out of here...* he thought, glancing down at the dish of goo that was still in front of Samantha.

The minute hand moved.

Mark nearly sobbed with joy.

"Oh, honey, they're going to be awhile," his mother finally said. "Why don't you and Roger go find something to do? You can show him your old room and all those old pictures you used to like to take! We'll call you down when Sam is done so we can have dessert. Your sister and I will girl talk for awhile." She laughed and Mark laughed too, but his chuckles were much closer to hysteria as he grabbed Roger's arm and yanked him away from the table and up the stairs.

"Can we leave yet?" he asked as they hit the staircase and sprinted up into Mark's old bedroom. "Seriously, I just want to go home. This is driving me crazy." Roger laughed and sat on Mark's bed as the filmmaker closed the door securely.

"Aw, Mark, it's not that bad!" he insisted. "It could be worse. Plus, we got food and your mom is probably going to make us take home leftovers. Score." He smirked a little and gestured for Mark to come towards him. The smaller man gave him a withering look and sunk into the desk chair, murmuring under his breath. Roger sighed and reached his arm out to Mark. He hated seeing his lover like this. Regardless of the fact that Mark was usually not very responsive to sex when he was depressed, Roger also hated Mark to be hurt or distant. "Baby, come here."

"Why, so you can molest me?" Mark muttered harshly, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Only if you want me to," Roger said with a grin. "Right now I just want to hold you and talk to you." With a slight groan Mark rose from his seat and plopped himself down on Roger's lap. "Now. Why are you refusing sex? Are you sick?" Mark stuck his tongue out at the musician.

"I'm pissed. I wanna go home."

"Why?"

"Because I hate it here."

"Why?"

"Because we're at my mother's house for Christ's sake!"

"It's not that bad!" Mark give Roger a stern look.

"Roger, it is. It's not for you because you didn't have to live when them for eighteen years. But I feel so out of place in this house and so mad and Cindy and my mom... I don't even know why. But think if it was reversed. If we were at your mom's place wouldn't you be begging to go home right about now?" Roger was quiet as the words sunk in.

"You know... yeah. Probably." He frowned. "Well, we have to wait it out anyhow." Mark stood up and reached for the door.

"I'm going to go get my camera and-" He turned the knob again. And again. And again and again and-

"Mark, what's going on?" Roger asked.

"The door knob won't turn."

"Is it locked?"

"Do I look stupid?!"

Actually, Roger was quite sure that was usually his job. "Let me see," he said pushing Mark out of the way, confident that his manly man strength (this isn't a pun but feel free to laugh anyway) would solve their problem. He turned the knob. And then turned it again. And again. And-

"See?!" Mark hissed. He banged on the door. "MA! CIN-mphghph!" Mark was silenced as Roger's hand found it's way over the filmmaker's mouth.

"Okay. See," he started, pulling them back to the bed. "I don't think you're looking at this the right way, love. We're locked in a bedroom." He let go of Mark's mouth. Mark immediately smacked his arm, hard.

"Of course we're fucking locked in a bedroom I-" He paused.

"Exactly. Fucking bedroom. Good thinking, Mark." One of those rare Cheshire Cat smiles that only appeared when Roger was talking about sex (because, of course, it was nearly the only time his mind functioned like that of an intelligent person...).

"God, I love you."

"I know. I love you too, babe." Mark kicked off his shoes and turned around in Roger's lap so that they were facing one another.

"You didn't plan this, did you?" Mark asked with a curious smile. Roger shook his head.

"Just our luck. Today really is one damn lucky day for us, isn't it?"

Mark was going to respond, but once again he found it difficult to talk with more than one tongue in his mouth. They were both quite happy that they now had time for a nice, leisurely shag. The door was locked, it took a toddler roughly sixteen hours to finish it's pureed dinner, and no one cared where they were or what they were doing.

Too good to last, of course.

"Mark, do you hear that?" Roger panted. There was something happening outside the door...

"What the fuck are you talking about?" It was very hard for Mark to concentrate on anything besides Roger's hands and mouth doing truly delectable things to his-

"There it is again!"

Now Mark had heard something. But there was silence once again, save for he and Roger's heavy breathing. He went back to what he had been doing before.

"Mark, didn't you hear-"

"Look, Roger, do you want to fuck or play Blue's Clues?! Who knows when Mom and Cindy are going to-"

"I swear to god I hear a fucking power drill!" Silence.

"Shit," the murmured under their breaths in unison.

This was not going to be good.



To Be Continued...

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