Rent: Passions (Mimi/Roger)

[lexie-b.livejournal.com]

Title: Passions
Author: lexie_b
Feedback: Would be lovely if you feel inclined.
Pairing: Roger/Mimi, Joanne/Maureen and a little Maureen/Mark if you squint towards the end.
Word Count: 713
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst, romance
Summary: “You are just so beautiful,” he replies, twirling her around. “And sexy.”
Notes: I have many very eloquent words for how much livejournal sucks. :glares: Set post-Rent!Movie, and angstier than I originally anticipated. Written to the dulcet tones of Oasis' "Wonderwall".
Spoilers: Roger likes his guitar. /deadpan
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: The Jonathan Larson estate owns the rights to Rent. I just mess with their heads. And emotions.


She sometimes asks him to come and watch her dance at the club. She saves these requests for when they’re curled up in bed together, her head on his shoulder, and his arm around her waist. He resents what she does for a living, but doesn’t hate it. She dances around the loft to his music, to Mark’s laughter and to Maureen’s song, and they all cheer her on. He watches her twirl through their home and spins her in his arms, kissing her hard. He knows that dance is for her what songwriting is for him. And he loves her for that.

He hates the men that paw at her, that stuff twenty dollar bills down her costume; the money that is hoarded in her underwear drawer and counted out to pay for her medication, for their food and for things just to get by.

He doesn’t know why he goes.

No, that’s a lie. He knows why he finally goes to see Mimi dance. There was a letter left underneath her AZT bottle, half crumpled. Low T-Cells, it said. And he stared at it for awhile; so long, that Mark took the letter from him, and Roger wonders if this is worse that a blood stained post-it as a suicide note. He swears and is lucky that neither his guitar nor Mark’s camera are near by as he throws Joanne’s coffee cup again the wall in a moment of totally unadulterated panic, fear and resignation.

He doesn’t go down to the club alone. They all go with him to see their dancer perform. They sit close to the stage, but in the corner, tucked away where none of the dancers look. He drinks warm beer and watches his friends watch the dancers. There’s a stunned but slightly mischievous look on Mark’s face as he subtly films the stage; there’s Collins leaning back in his chair and watching with a look of peaceful amusement on his face as the businessmen holler at the barely clothed women. There’s Maureen’s hand gripped tightly by Joanne, who sips her drink, and looks around as if she’s in enemy territory, complimented by the look on Maureen’s face; a kid in a candy store. But Maureen’s always been one to show off, and the Cat Scratch Club, with its metallic costumes and flashing lights and loud music is like her paradise.

Mimi’s there now, he can see her. All long legs, dark eyes, and dying young. She twirls her body around the pole, like she’s boneless and beyond the grasp of gravity. She’s a back up dancer tonight, letting someone else take the spotlight, and Roger’s worried she’ll leave the stage and he’ll miss her. She winks at him, and Collins yells her name, waving a dollar bill in the air and she leans over the railing, gripping the pole, and plucks it from the air, blowing him a kiss. The strangers holler, and Roger resists the urge to climb up on stage and dance with her. She spins again, the stage lights catching the glitter in her hair and she winds her leg around the pole, and he wolf whistles at her, clapping and laughing.

And Mark films this – the laughter, the love and whatever will be lost later on.

After the club closes for the night, Mimi takes off her boots and she tries to teach Maureen how to pole dance, glitter still in her hair. Maureen laughs and whatever happens in the future, Maureen is going to be a star, even if just for them. Mark locks the camera onto Maureen, laughing hard and dragging Joanne into it all, and doesn’t think anyone else deserves Maureen – she is their diva and their drama queen, and the world doesn’t need to know what they’re missing. Collins sits on the stage and smokes, shaking his head as Maureen falls on her ass again.

And Roger holds Mimi tight in his arms, pressing kisses to her lips.

“You came to see me dance,” she says softly, her arms around his neck.

“You are just so beautiful,” he replies, twirling her around. “And sexy.”

She laughs, her eyes bright, and he forgives her for loving to dance for strangers because dancing is her passion. And she is his.