OOM: The filmmaker cannot see, and the songwriter cannot hear

[bohemian_mark]

Strange, after all of the glee of the past few days, coming back to the Loft seems almost an anti-climax. Sliding the door open, Mark peered in. Roger was on the couch, the Fender out, and atypically for usual, no notebook in evidence. The guitar's tune finally reached Mark, and he facepalms as he recognizes Musetta's Waltz. He stepped into the room, eying Roger. "Uh, Roger? You alright?"

Looking up from his guitar, Roger shrugged. "Yeah, sure. I'm alright."

"No. You're not. What's going on?" Mark crossed his arms. "You're in 'sit on my ass and angst' mode."

"Perhaps it's because my so-called best friend doesn't tell me anything." He picks up the guitar again, and goes back to Musetta's Waltz.

"What the fuck do you mean, I don't tell you anything?"

"You got engaged. And didn't tell me. I had to hear it from Val in the music studio. She said that you'd told Adam, who told Bee in a meeting who told...."

"Shut up, Roger. I only told Adam because he asked me. Actually, it was a bad rumour that actually got right for once. God, Roger, I would have told you first if I could." Mark flailed for a moment, before Roger found his voice.

"So you're saying that everyone downstairs actually knew something before you did? Now that should be put in the newspapers." He cracked a smile. "Alright. I forgive you. Hard not to with you grinning that much." Relaxing, Roger put his arms behind his head. "So, when's this whole shin-dig going to happen?"

"Hell if I know." Mark sighed, relaxing. "I don't know anything. Hell, I haven't even figured out how it'll work."

Shrugging, Roger picked up the guitar again. "Well, I'm sure it'll work out somehow."

"You're going to be a part of it, you know."

"Damn. I was so hoping to get out of it." Roger smirked.

"Well, I do need a wedding singer, you know." Mark ducked as a pillow flew at him from the couch. "Alright, alright, I'll get someone else." He pauses. "I don't know what the ceremony's going to be, Jewish or otherwise, but I want you as my best man, Roger."

"What? Not Angel?" Roger couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"No. Even if that were possible, Roger, you're.... uh. You're my brother. And, well, that's just what I want, alright?"

A long moment passed, before Roger nodded. "Yeah. Uh, same goes for you, you know? Brothers and all that."

"Yeah." Another moment passed before Roger picked up his guitar and plunked a bit of the wedding march.

"God, man. I never thought I'd see the day you were married. Hell, I didn't think anyone would -take- you."

Mark facepalmed, throwing a pillow back at Roger. "I never thought you'd see it either. God, I still don't know why Sara..."

"Oh, just shut up about that, will you? She sees you for the person that you can't see yourself as. And you'd better run with that or I'll kick your ass."

Smirking, Mark put his camera bag down. "I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, look, the skinny Jewish boy thinks he can beat my ass." Roger smirked.

"No, the skinny Jewish boy is coming downstairs because he has a meeting." Adam appeared in the door. "It's not a wonder there aren't more rumours about the two of you. Damn you sound like an old married couple."

"Oh, shove it." Mark grabbed his bag again while Roger facepalmed and grabbed his guitar again with a smirk.

"Come home soon, honey!" Roger batted his eyes at Mark.

"Oh, good god." Running out the door behind Adam, Mark smiled to himself. That could have gone worse.