Part 8: Oh No, Not Again
Posted 8.22.02


"A power drill?!" Mark hissed. "A fucking power drill! Roger! She's taking the fucking hinges off of the door!" He jumped from the bed and ran to the very furthest corner of the room, pacing slightly and fretting in a manner that (although Roger would not admit this to Mark) greatly resembled that of his mother.

"I'm telling you Cindy, there's something wrong! Did you hear those sounds they were making?"

"Yeah, can't wait to hear the sounds they make when the door's open..." Mark groaned and hung his head.

"Roger! They're going to be in here any minute! ANY MINUTE! We're dead!" Roger stood with with a small smile and a smaller sigh, holding Mark's boxers in his fist.

"First, you put these on." From the tone of the guitarist's voice, he was not looking forward to this. "And then, I do this." He leaned forward and kissed Mark solidly on the mouth, running his fingers over the filmmaker's shoulders until the tension slowly eased out. "And then, we chill out and try and clean up." He let go of Mark's arms and retrieved his pants, having already climbed back into his boxers. "See? We've got plenty of time."

Mark's eyes widened as he flailed towards Roger to try and stop his next statement.

"Nothing will happen."

Too late.

Because, of course, thanks to that ever present Supreme Law of the Universe (tm), that's when the last screw fell to the ground and Mark's mother slid the door out of the jamb and into the hallway. Mark blinked. Roger blinked. Mark's mother blinked. Cindy rolled her eyes.

"We were..."

"Uh, see..."

"Well, the door was stuck..."

Mark's mother looked at the two nearly naked men. Then she looked at Mark's open window. Then at the rumpled sheets. Then at the pants in Roger's hands.

"Oh lord!"

The boys winced.

"You're such smart boys!"

The boys blinked. Cindy blinked. All three exchanged a look before staring at Mark's mother, open mouthed.

"Trying to make a ladder out of the sheets and your clothes! Good thinking! I knew I raised a bright boy! You're so intelligent, Mark." Mark didn't even acknowledge her. Because this was getting weird. This was getting incredibly fucking weird. He knew his mom was dense, but this was beginning to be outrageous. Not even his clueless mother could walk in on two naked, obviously aroused men in a bedroom that was lacking order and proper sheets and think they were trying to escape out a window. She must have turned the denial on full strength this morning.

"Uh..." Roger said. He wasn't thinking about denial, only about how insanely lucky he was. Glancing down at Mark's half-dressed state, however, he decided he wasn't as lucky as he thought. If he was really lucky he'd actually get to have sex at one point this afternoon.

"Oh, you deserve a special treat for that! I'll make some milkshakes for desert, just for you! For having to put up with all of this horrible luck today!" And before they could even thank her or fully explain she was off, rushing downstairs and opening cabinets to locate the blender. Cindy stood, staring at them for a moment as Sam drooled on her blouse.

"So," she said. The boys were silent. "I'm assuming you're having a lot of sex?"

"Yeah," Mark said sheepishly. "A lot. In weird places."

"Not enough today, though," Roger muttered, sighing as he put his pants back on. "Which is sort of disheartening." Cindy rolled her eyes.

"How long?"

"Oh, it depends," Roger said. "Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes ten minutes depending on our mood and how we want it." Mark blushed and punched Roger in the arm.

"She means how long have we been together, moron. And, about two years." Cindy gave a low whistle.

"You've been dating for two years and no one knows?" Mark shrugged, pulling his sweater back over his head.

"Everyone except the family. But this mom thing...this is fucked up."

"Tell me about it," Cindy muttered, rolling her eyes. "It's almost funny in a really, really sad way." The three of them stood in a vaguely uncomfortable silence as the boys finished getting dressed and stood awkwardly next to each other, not looking at Cindy.

"So..." Mark said. "Will you..." Cindy rolled her eyes.

"Yes. I'll keep your stupid secret. But only because I think this thing with mom is too funny and screwed up for words." The boys sighed loudly in relief and relaxed slightly. "C'mon," Cindy said finally. "Let's go downstairs before she gets nervous." Mark nodded and started forward, but Roger grabbed his arm.

"Wait!" He grabbed Mark and lifted him easily in the air. He slammed the filmmaker against the wall and kissed him as hard as he could muster. Cindy rolled her eyes and stomped out of the room and down to the kitchen. Mark's arms twined around Roger's neck as the musician lowered him to sit on the top of his dresser. Their lips never parted, even though they both needed air pretty desperately. Finally, Mark managed to pull away, grinning slightly as oxygen replenished his brain. Roger, too, began to breathe, although his brain was far past the point where a little air could make everything all better.

"Mom'll wonder what's keeping us."

"Mm."

"That means we should go downstairs now."

"Mm."

Mark gave him a stern look. "Now, Roger."

"Well I don't see you moving!" Roger retorted, pouting a little. Mark rolled his eyes.

"You're sitting on my legs, dear."

Roger paused, looked down, and considered his position. "Oh," he said, finally sliding off the dresser and onto the floor. "I knew that." Mark grabbed Roger's arm and jumped down, pulling his lover towards the stairs.

"Okay. Let's go." With two nearly silent sighs they started down the steps.
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To Be Continued...

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