DISCLAIMER: hey, guess what? they aren’t mine! isn’t that a riot?!
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is written in response to a challenge to write a Rentfic that features Miaka’s definition of an “unconventional couple.” Hey, Miaka, lookee, I’ve got two! And it’s pre-Rent, too! And yes, it crosses over with another one of my fics, but it’s its own story. Really it is. Please respect it as such. Onwards....

Always So Certain
by kaydee falls

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“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.” -- Bertrand Russell

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PART 1: THE WHOLE PROBLEM...

Roger, I decided, needed a girlfriend.

I came to this conclusion after spending a whole freaking hour listening to him pick out mournful love songs on his favorite fender guitar. The walls in our loft are not exactly soundproof. The fact that I was in my bedroom with the door closed had no effect on the twangy, pervasive quality of Roger’s ‘music.’ If you could call it such. It sounded more like a disjointed medley of every lonely ballad ever written. Most of which were simply not meant to be played on that guitar.

When he started his own, special rendition of “Musetta’s Waltz,” I knew it had gone too far.

My roommate does not exactly have a cheerful nature, but lately his gloom of self-pitying loneliness has deepened. It’s starting to affect the rest of us in the loft. And the quietly self-suffering expression on his face is getting on my nerves. Besides, tonight’s musical aspirations weren’t exactly helping me forget the fight I had with Mark this morning. For once it was me waiting for him to come home instead of vice-versa, and I needed to be in the right mood to coax him into accepting my apology.

Roger’s guitar was not helping me get into that mood.

Fortunately, he gave up after a few more depressing tries at Puccini, and went to the bedroom he, Collins, and Benny share, slamming the door shut. Mark and Benny got home about half an hour later, and I worked my usual girlfriend magic on Mark’s wounded pride from the morning. We both went to bed happy, any indications of distemper or grudges gone.

See how much having me improves Mark? Roger definitely needed a girlfriend before his funk got worse.

Getting him a girlfriend was another matter entirely.

I tried the casual approach first. “Hey, Roger,” I said to him one afternoon, as he was inhaling a bowl of noodle soup. “Me, Marky, and Collins are going out clubbing tonight. You coming?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the rapidly vanishing soup. “Don’t feel like it,” he mumbled, and swallowed. “You guys go.”

“Oh, come on,” I wheedled. “It’ll be fun. Clubs are great places to meet girls, ya know.” I raised an eyebrow suggestively.

He glanced up at me, warily. “Are they now,” he commented flatly.

I perched on the table, leaning toward him slightly. “You know you want to,” I teased.

“Maureen, I never knew you to be the best judge of what I want.”

I switched tactics. “How long has it been since you and Andrea split?” I asked. “Five months?”

Roger glared at me steadily. He looked like he was debating whether or not to dump his remaining soup on my head. I leaned back, sighing. Shaking his head almost imperceptibly, he decided against wasting his food on me. “Yeah, something like that,” he said, and polished off the soup.

“You need a new girlfriend,” I informed him, bluntly. Guys are dense. Sometimes, you have to spell it out for them.

“Thanks for the advice, Maureen,” he said shortly. “Have fun at your club.” He stalked out of the loft, slamming the door behind him.

Well, at least I got him out of the house.

Over the next two weeks, I did a pretty good job of driving Roger crazy. It got to the point that he actually did come out with us, just so I would stop bugging him.

“Maureen,” Mark told me cautiously. “No offense, but I don’t think that Roger particularly appreciates your efforts here.”

“I know,” I replied cheerfully. “But he will, when he meets the girl of his dreams.”

Mark pushed his glasses up on his nose. I love his glasses. They make him look so adorable. “Why, may I ask, are you so concerned with Roger’s girlfriend status?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” I teased playfully. “A tall, handsome stud like that one shouldn’t be alone nights.” I really, really wanted to tousle his hair at that point. He looked like an affronted puppy dog.

“Oh, really?” He folded his arms.

I laughed. “Silly Marky, you get jealous so easily!”

“Well, sometimes you give me reason!”

I pouted slightly. “Pookie, what have I possibly said to make you jealous?” I stepped close to him, and began playing with the collar of his shirt. He tried to remain aloof, but it wasn’t working. “Honestly, Mark, if you had reason to be jealous of Roger, then why would I be trying to find him a girlfriend?”

He sighed and gave in, putting his arms around me. “Good point,” he admitted. “I’d still like to know why, though.”

“Nobody likes a mopey roommate,” I replied. “A girl will do him good. Admit it, you don’t like it when he’s this sullen, either.”

“True. Very true. Now, shouldn’t we be dragging our dear friend along to that new bar on Avenue B?”

Delighted, I kissed him. He responded in kind. One thing kinda led to another and, well, it was a good twenty minutes later before we were ready to set out for the bar.

I was in high spirits as the three of us walked dwn the street. Laughing and cuddling with my boyfriend, I hardly noticed Roger’s typical scowl. It was a great evening -- not too hot, for July, with no clouds in sight. The night energized me. I was almost regretful when we got to the bar and had to go inside.

“I’m thirsty,” I told Mark. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want anything?”

He shook his head. He had already gotten his small, handheld video camera out. He turned the lens to me for a moment, grinning. I struck a pose, then stuck my tongue out. That’s my Marky. Anywhere we go holds the possibility of inspiration for the next screenplay. He’s always filming.

Roger stuck to Mark, looking bored already. Remembering my mission, I scanned the bar for his potential girlfriend.

Sitting alone at a barstool was a girl, probably in her late teens or early twenties, like us. She was clearly acquainted with a loud, wilder group seated at a table a few feet away -- every now and then they would shout something at her, and she’d respond -- but for some reason she chose to stay solo. Probably lonely. Perfect.

I plopped down at the bar stool next to hers. “Hey,” I said.

She glanced at me, briefly. “Hey,” she replied noncommittally, then turned back to her drink.

“I’m Maureen,” I pushed. Most people find that it’s very difficult to ignore me, when I want to talk to them.

“April,” she identified herself, glancing at me again.

I studied her for a few moments. She was reasonably pretty. Bronze skin, almost Spanish looking, with wildly curly dark hair. Nice brown eyes. Decent figure. I didn’t know Roger’s type exactly, but I did know Andrea, and this one was much better looking. I realized that she was a little uncomfortable with my scrutiny, so I broke the silence. “You look lonely,” I said.

She laughed, a little. “Sorry, Maureen, but I don’t swing that way.”

A comedienne. Yeah, Roger should like her. I shrugged off the comment. “Don’t worry, my boyfriend’s in the corner over there.” I indicated Mark. She looked over at him, and by the calculating look in her eyes I could see that she was weighing him up and finding him favorable. “Don’t even think about it. Marky’s mine,” I warned her lightly, establishing my possession of him.

She acknowledged this with an inclination of her head, and turned back to me. “So, what, your statement earlier was supposed to be a point of conversation?” she challenged me, a little irritated by my continued presence. “Look, my chatty friend, whatever you may think, I’m actually in a reasonably good mood right now. I’m not lonely. At all.”

I raised an eyebrow. Suuuuuure you’re not, I thought. I could have bickered with her, but I decided to be reasonable. After all, I was trying to get Roger a girlfriend, right? And at least April showed spirit. “Hey,” I said, “you’re sitting alone at a bar, even though a crowd of your friends are grooving over there.” I indicated the raucous bunch nearby, then moved in for the kill. “And here I’ve got one of my roomies single and bored--” I cut myself off suddenly, as I noticed that Roger was slipping towards the door. “--And trying to sneak outside!” I exclaimed.

Mentally apologizing to April for my rudeness, I broke a few speed records in getting from my stool to my roommate. The look on his face was that of a guilty child caught in the act. Repressing the urge to either laugh or smack him for his lack of appreciation, I chose instead to drag him forcibly over to the girl. It wasn’t easy. Oh, the things I go through due to my altruistic nature. April glanced between me and Roger, smirking slightly. Her look told me that she knew very well she was being set up, and after looking my roommate up and down, she flashed me a look of cool appreciation. I smiled determinedly. “April, meet Roger.”

Giving him one last shove, I turned and strode over to my boyfriend. Mark had been filming the entire procedure.

“Masterful,” he commented, keeping his lens trained on the awkward duo. “Why her, in particular?”

“Why not?” I responded affably. “If they get on, good. If not, there are plenty of other bars.”

“That there are,” he murmured. Turning the camera off, he replaced the lens cap with a flourish. His eyes twinkled at me from behind his lovable glasses. “She’s quite a looker.” I slapped him lightly on the arm, and he chuckled. “So I thought you were thirsty. So where’s your drink?”

I smacked myself on the forehead. “Damn! I completely forgot to get anything!”

He laughed quietly, and took my hand. “C’mon, let’s get some cheap alcohol.”

I glanced over at the bar. April and Roger were still talking -- sort of. Her crowd was getting steadily louder as the drinks kept coming, and the potential pair weren’t exactly being left alone.

“I dunno,” I told him. “It’s getting a bit noisy in here.”

He looked around, and shrugged. “No worse than our crowd gets at the Life Cafe.”

A smile tugged at my mouth. “That’s right. We don’t go there nearly often enough.” Casting another look at the bar, I noticed the absence of two certain people. “Now where did--”

“Leaving,” Mark replied. Turning to the door, I indeed saw the backs of April and Roger as they slipped away. Mark met my eyes. “I am duly impressed. You seem to have found his match.” A shadow flickered across his face. “I hope they don’t do anything stupid.”

I laughed. “Roger’s a big boy, Pookie. You don’t need to mother him.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know. It’s just that lately--”

“He’s been acting weird lately, I know,” I cut in. “That’s why he needed a girlfriend. To straighten him out a little.” I indicated the door. “Her name’s April, by the way.”

Mark sighed. “Yeah. That’s probably what he needs. Someone to care about. I guess best friends don’t always cut it.”

“Of course they don’t!” I said, a little impatiently. I don’t like it when Mark gets moody. “That’s what girlfriends are for, Marky. Like me. Remember me?” I pouted a little. His eyes caught mine, and he smiled, pulling me towards him. We kissed for a while, then I pulled away, satisfied. “Take me dancing, Pookie,” I murmured in his ear. “They won’t be coming back here.”

He complied, like I knew he would. My Marky doesn’t really like clubbing. It’s not really his style. But he goes along, anyway, keeping an eye on me. Poor jealous boy.

Mark got tired of the club a little before midnight, and, for once, I didn’t argue. I was too wrapped up in my apparent success of the day. When we got home, we found Collins and Benny playing cards in the kitchen. Roger hadn’t come home yet.

I smiled to myself. Score one for Maureen. Guess he’ll appreciate my efforts now!

END OF PART 1
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PART 2: ...FOOLS AND FANATICS...

I woke up relatively early the next morning. Say, a little before ten o’clock. Mark, who is marginally more of a morning person than I am, had already gotten out of bed. I could hear his voice faintly in the kitchen, occasionally joined by Roger’s....

Roger! Dammit, what was he doing here? I thought he was going to spend the night with that chick from the bar! That was the whole point, wasn’t it?

My body was up and functioning a few minutes before my brain. For several fruitless moments, I searched for the bar girl’s name in my memory. Some kind of month, wasn’t it? May? No, not May, she hadn’t looked like a May....

April. Right.

Once my sluggish mind chose to make that information available to me, I was ready to confront Roger. Throwing on something resembling clothes, I burst out of the bedroom.

Roger saw me coming before Mark even noticed the door slamming open. I made a mental note to myself about Mark’s need of heightened awareness of his girlfriend. My other roommate opened a mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“Roger, what the hell are you doing here?”

He blinked, mildly thrown off. “Um, I do kinda live here, Maureen.” Mark, who had finally decided to notice me, favored me by rolling his eyes. I’ll get you later, buddy.

“That’s not what I mean! You were s’posed to go home with that April chick!”

Roger smirked. “I walked her home, yes. But damn, I don’t generally go to bed with a date the first night I meet them!”

This threw me off a little. “Why the hell not?” I asked.

Marky glared at me. “Maureen...” he warned.

Roger’s grin widened. It looked weird, at first -- until I realized how long it had been since I’d seen Roger genuinely smile. “I was going to say thank you,” he interjected. I gaped. “No, really. For once, you were right about someone. I think I really like this girl. Even if --” his grin reached Cheshire Cat proportions “-- I didn’t immediately jump into bed with her.”

“Oh,” I said, mollified. Realizing that my Pookie was still glaring at me, I hustled over to kiss him. “Really, Mark,” I scolded. “Like you’ve never gone to bed on a first date.”

He twisted his mouth in something that might have resembled a smile. It would have to do, for now. I turned my attention back to Roger.

“So? When are you gonna see her again?” I demanded.

Roger rolled his eyes. “Soon, all right? Christ, Maureen, it’s really none of your business, you know.”

“None of my business! Who set you two up, huh?”

“You. I said thanks, didn’t I?” I shrugged, unwilling to give up yet. Roger can be such a clunkhead. If I let him, he would screw this one up, like he had with Andrea. He just doesn’t know how to treat a girl. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “D’you think I should meet her after work today?”

I considered this for about half a second. “Roger, since when do you go to work?”

He sighed. “After she gets off work, I meant. She works at that deli, a few blocks from here.”

There were maybe, oh, a thousand or so delis that fit the description of being ‘a few blocks from here,’ but I let it slide. “Of course you should meet her!” I exclaimed.

“It’s just that she doesn’t know I’m planning to...” he muttered.

“Even better! Don’t you know that girls love surprises like that?” I checked myself. “Well, usually, anyway.” I could think of a few times when I had been less than pleased to find Mark waiting for me -- especially when it meant catching me, um, in the, uh, company of certain, ah, friends, doing certain -- oh, never mind. Besides, that was me. Not April. I plowed on ahead. “You have to meet her today, and be extra sweet, and if you insist on coming home tonight -- bring her with you, dammit!”

Roger nodded gravely, but the corners of his mouth were twitching rebelliously. He excused himself from the kitchen hurriedly.

I shook my head, exasperated. “That boy just doesn’t know what’s good for him,” I complained.

“Uh-huh,” Mark agreed. He looked like he was trying to pacify me. I briefly contemplated smacking him, but realized it wouldn’t do much good. “Maureen,” he continued, somewhat cautiously, “just how many guys have you slept with on a first date?”

Now I really wanted to smack him. So much for any notions of pacifying. I sighed. Resigned, I began the tedious process of soothing my boyfriend’s jealousy issues.

Roger came home alone that night, but it wasn’t worth the effort to yell at him. He was in high spirits, but acting a little looped out. Drunk and happy, I diagnosed mentally, repressing the urge to lecture him on girlfriends. Besides, I don’t see Roger drunk too often. He gets kinda weird, acts like he’s lightheaded or something. Since I assume he was in a good mood as he got himself this wasted, tonight’s form of drunkenness was pretty funny. Irrepressibly good humored. Very un-Roger.

He only spent a few minutes with the rest of us in the living room, and he wasn’t talking much, mainly staring into space with a goofy smile on his face. This made me feel better about the lack of April’s presence -- clearly, the boy was in love.

Mark was sort of giving Roger the cold shoulder -- strange. He looked upset about something -- probably calculating how many drinks his best friend had had. Pointless. It’s not like my Pookie abstains from alcohol, right? And anyway, Roger was too loopy to notice Marky’s thinly veiled disgust.

“You know what’s weird?” Roger burst out suddenly, slurring his words slightly. “April is friends with Greg. Isn’t that funny?” He giggled a little.

Collins and Mark both suddenly jerked their heads to look at Roger. Behind his glasses, Mark’s eyes took on the oh-crap look normally reserved for his discovery of my little infidelities. Collins seemed to be seeing Roger for the first time that night, widening slightly as the blond man’s somewhat drunken state sunk in. Collins glanced over at Mark, and the two of them shared a Look.

Benny glanced between the two of them, baffled at their odd reaction. He caught my eye, and I shrugged. I was mildly pissed at being left out of the loop, too. Who the hell was Greg?

I stood, and took Roger’s arm. “C’mon, Roger,” I said. “Bedtime. You are gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning.” Benny got up and supported Roger’s other arm, complacently.

Mark and Collins shared another meaningful glance, irritating me further. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. So Roger had a little too much to drink. So what? Frankly, I think it’s perfectly natural for a guy to get drunk with his girlfriend. Sheesh.

Roger was lucky. He claimed not to have a hangover the next morning, although he looked a little pale. Nobody mentioned the incident at all. Damn -- so much for me finding out what was going on.

The next night, Roger didn’t come back to the loft. I privately rejoiced.

Still, it was a whole month before April moved in with us. That was very interesting -- forming a makeshift wall/divider in the bigger bedroom, so that April and Roger could have their own room. Somehow it worked, between Benny’s logical mind and Collins’s knack for improvisation. The end result was highly satisfactory, for all parties.

Well, for the most part. Collins and Mark obviously had their doubts about the new living arrangements. Not the bedroom fiasco, just the fact that April had joined us, period.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Mark muttered on evening, after she had been with us for about a week.

“What?” I asked. “Having her here? We’ve got room. And jesus, you should’ve seen the hellhole she was living in before.”

“That they’re still dating, I guess. I don’t know. I mean, they seem happy, but she’s -- I just don’t know.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I demanded. “She’s nice enough. Good sense of humor. Pretty. And she’s faithful to him, which can be hard to find. Someone that loyal. What’s the problem?”

Mark shrugged, evasively. “We barely know this girl. I mean, she could be -- never mind.”

“No, I’m minding,” I said. “Don’t you approve of her friends, or something? Oh yeah -- George or Greg or someone.”

“Greg,” Mark verified automatically, then winced. He hadn’t wanted to discuss this. Too bad.

“Yeah, Greg. So who is he, and why don’t we like him?”

My boyfriend fiddled with his glasses. “He’s kind of a neighborhood guy. A lot of people around here know him, you could say. He’s -- he tends to be bad news.”

“A good partier?” I asked, contemplatively. I needed a little excitement.

“Yeah,” Mark said flatly. “For a price.” Abruptly, he changed the subject. “You said April’s faithful -- ‘which can be hard to find.’ Care to enlighten me?” He wasn’t glaring at me. Not really.

“Just in general -- you know,” I hedged.

“Uh-huh.” He folded his arms. Okay, now he was kinda glaring.

“Oh, for chrissakes, Mark...!”I spluttered.

“So what’s up with you and April’s other friend? Chino? Is that his name?”

“He was helping me move her out of her old apartment!” I insisted, not quite blushing.

“Wow, talk about helpful! I mean, you two kept going back to pick up her things even when everything was already here!”

My temper flared. He was not supposed to have noticed that. “Well, excuse me for looking for a little excitement for one lousy evening!”

“So, what, I’m boring?!” Mark yelled.

That’s the sign I’ve gone too far. “C’mon, Pookie,” I cajoled.

“Don’t pout at me like that! Dammit, Maureen, if you like thrills so much, why the hell don’t you just leave me and be done with it?”

“Fine!” I snapped. I had a right to be angry at him, too, didn’t I? “Fine, I will! That’s it, Mark Cohen!” I stomped out of the loft, slamming the door so hard it shook.

After about twenty minutes, I knew that he’d come back to me -- or I’d go back to him -- but I spent the rest of the night and the next morning with Chino, anyway. Just to teach that damn filmmaker a lesson. In the afternoon, I went back to the loft, claiming to be “just picking up my stuff.” Then I allowed Mark to “convince” me to stay with him, and settled back into the usual routine.

It was a hell of a way to make me forget about Greg. But it worked.

Mark and I started fighting more often after that. Not that we’d had the ideal relationship before, but it was definitely deteriorating now. I cheated every few weeks, or month, and didn’t feel too bad about cheating. It wasn’t the most pleasant of times.

In contrast, Roger and April were happier and happier. After a while I gave up keeping tabs on them completely. Clearly, they were handling this just fine on their own. Besides, we rarely saw them any more -- they were out, or if they were home, they were in their bedroom. Just as well. Mark and Collins had kept up their unreasonable disliking of April. Benny and I remained moderately friendly, but I guess the happy couple decided it was safer for them to isolate themselves than deal with us.

I couldn’t really take the time to deal with Roger and April’s little problems. I had enough issues of my own. Besides, I was starting to almost resent their continuous bliss, as my relationship continued fracturing.

Things between Mark and I reached boiling point on what should have been a great night. Months had passed since April’s arrival. It was early April, actually. Weird. Who would name their kid after a month? But I digress.

Benny was dragging us all to some new club he’d discovered (except Collins, who had other plans). He kept chattering on about one of the dancers there. I was mildly suspicious -- he was already well into a relationship with some rich white girl whose name I could never remember. Met her once -- kinda snobbish. Whatever. So we were walking too quickly down the street. Mark and I were in a period of truce, and behaving almost like a proper couple. In other words, completely ignoring Benny’s incessant talking.

“Hey, Benny,” April called out. She and her boyfriend were lagging behind us. “You wanna slow down a bit? This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Roger piped up. “And I thought you were seeing that Alison chick, anyway.” It took me a second to remember that Alison was the snob Benny was dating, and another second was lost contemplating Roger’s reasoning in making this particular comment. Oh yeah, Benny had been talking about the dancer.

“Well, I am,” Benny hedged. “Maybe not totally exclusively yet.” I raised my eyebrow at him -- not that he noticed. “Besides, I’m not doing anything with this dancer, I don’t even know her name. I just, uh, like watching her.” Wow. An excuse almost worthy of me. I almost said that aloud, then remember who was holding my hand. My boyfriend. Right. Not a good time to mention excuses.

Benny stopped walking abruptly. Mark and I practically ran over him. I shot my roommate a look. Couldn’t he have warned us he was gonna stop, or something?

“What now?” I demanded, vaguely annoyed.

“We’re here,” Benny replied excitedly, and stepped into the building, and we followed. I glanced around, not impressed. The Cat Scratch Club was not my kind of choice for a night life. Too small, for one. Also, the employment of “real” dancers left less space for the rest of us to enjoy ourselves, especially while waiting for these exotic dancers to emerge.

April had already found something resembling a dance floor, and was dancing -- in her own, special way. I shook my head, and joined her. The girl needed a better teacher. I demonstrated how to dance properly -- by grabbing the nearest guy and pressing myself as close to him as possible. The lighting wasn’t great, so I just prayed the boy I was clutching was decent looking, and kept right on dancing. Mark hates these kinds of places, I thought. Oh, well. His loss.

Suddenly, I heard whistles and catcalls coming from another part of the club -- the part set aside for the hired dancers. “Hey, guys!” I heard Benny yelling, then couldn’t hear whatever he might have said afterwards. The guy I was dancing with pulled away -- too bad. Now that I got a look at him, he was reasonably hot. Whatever. I followed the other girls in the club over to a small stage. Three scantily-dressed guys had emerged, and were dancing far more interestingly than my former dance partner. Better looking, too. I forgot about him immediately.

I spared about five seconds to glance over to the other side of the club. The female dancers were just as good, and wearing about the same amount of clothing. I quickly figured out which one was Benny’s favorite -- she had the best figure -- and thought bemusedly that she looked kinda like April. Except that April would probably never wear black leather and lace.

Then my attention turned back to the trio of guys dancing so seductively in front of me. And for someone whose attention span is as short as mine, I watched them for a remarkably long time.

Then I captured the notice of my favorite one for a little while.

Needless to say, it was rather early the next morning before I got back to the loft. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite early enough.

The others were all in bed. Mark was not. He was sitting on the sofa. Just sitting. Not reading, not dozing, not writing, not watching TV. Just -- sitting.

He didn’t move when I entered. He kept his back to me, rigidly. This didn’t exactly put me at ease. I was already feeling kinda guilty about abandoning Mark, earlier. Normally, I don’t completely forget about his existence. That night, I had. For some reason, I feel better about cheating on him deliberately then about cheating on him, oddly, by accident. I honestly didn’t know what I had been thinking.

Somehow, I didn’t think these arguments would work in my favor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking the silence that hung between us. “I...lost track of the time.” He still didn