tormentedeyes: (the plotbunnies! they're EVIL)
[personal profile] tormentedeyes

Title:  Past Impression (1/?)
Rating:  PG-13
Word Count:  1,461
Disclaimer:  I don't own anything. I'm just a poor boy.
Summary:  Post-Rent. Due to a promise he made in high school, Roger grudgingly takes the gang to the museum. What he finds there, however, will shake everything he's ever known.
A/N:  So, it's a crossover. I couldn't help myself! Probably done before, but hey, I wanted to try it.


 

He should have known he was dreaming; the glooming darkness should have clued him in. But he found it strangely familiar, as if this whole situation had happened before. Then, out of the black abyss, a soft light began to break through.

 

It was calling to him, and he obeyed. As he drew near, Roger could make out the outlines of two figures. They were kneeling, their hands clasped together. A conversation was being held, but he was too far to hear. He ran, feeling the sudden urgency that he needed to hear what was going on.

 

The figures remained blurred, no matter how close he got, but the words became clear...

 

If I have to search for a hundred life times, I will find you again...”

 

“Roger, get your ass up!” Roger's eyes snapped open. Oh God... What's she doing here? Roger burrowed deeper into his pathetic sheets. If he ignored her, she'll go away. Yeah, right. “Roger Michael Davis!” The next thing he knew, a heavy weight suddenly settled on top of him and started to claw at his sheets. That's it.

 

“Maureen!” Roger rolled out from under his sheets and pinned her underneath him. “Enough!” He growled. Maureen laid shocked for a moment before slowly smirking. Now what?

 

She giggled as she wrapped her legs around him. “Oh, Roger, we shouldn't!” Roger rolled his eyes. He tried to move away, but she held her grip firmly. “What if Mark finds out?” She all but screamed. This girl...

 

“What if I found out what?” Mark walked into Roger's room and took in the scene. Maureen's wrists were pinned on either side of her head, and her legs were pulling Roger's waist into her. His best friend looked pissed at the world as he held down the drama queen. She looked up innocently at him. Mark sighed. “You two...” he mumbled.

 

“Pookie! Thank goodness,” she sighed dramatically, “Roger is trying to take advantage!” She glared at Roger, though a smirk was clearly visible. Roger sighed. What's wrong with her?

 

“As if I'd want to. I can barely stand touching you.” Roger spat, finally prying himself away from his nightmare. Ugh, I need more sleep.

 

“Maureen... Why are you here?” Mark cocked his head. Roger stared at him. He looks like a puppy... Am I the only one who sees this?

 

“Mark,” Maureen started, “You look like a lost puppy when you do that.” Mark glared at his ex as Roger smirked despite himself. His face fell after a moment, though. Me and Maureen think alike? Yikes, steer clear from that!

 

“Fantastic.” Mark replied dryly. “Now, answer the question.” He stared at her as he folded his arms. Way to go, Mark. Show her you've got a pair.

 

“That's so mean, Mark!” She pouted. “I'm only here because Roger promised to take me to the museum.” Mark raised an eyebrow at the statement. Roger, however, scoffed.

 

“Like I'd ever set foot in a museum. Why on earth would I even promise that?” He questioned incredulously. What would this girl come up with next? Roger glared at the brunette, earning a grin from Mark and a pout from Maureen.

 

“Come on, Maureen,” Mark intervened, “You know Roger wouldn't go within a ten mile radius of a museum.” Good ol' Mark. He knows me well. “I think you've gone a bit far with this tale.”

 

Maureen actually looked offended. “I am not making this up! He really did promise me!”

 

“Drunken promises don't count.” Roger sighed. Mark smirked at the thought.

 

“You were not drunk!”

 

“Are you sure you weren't, then?”

 

Mark seemed to be getting annoyed with their argument. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked, “Okay, Maureen, when did he promise you?” Maureen seemed to smile in a soft reminiscence. What the hell...?

 

“We were freshmen,” she began, “and we watched this video about ancient Egypt and its pharaohs and gods and crap, okay? I said I wanted to go to the museum to see real mummies and shit, but I couldn't get a ride. So, Roger said he'd take me when he gets his car. That didn't really happen, and other shit got in the way, so I kind of forgot about it. But now I remember, and I'm all ready to go!” She ended gleefully, peering at the roommates expectantly.

 

The Boho boys were silent. Mark was busy shifting focus from his ex-girlfriend to his best friend and Roger was staring disbelievingly at Maureen. That didn't happen! No way in hell...

 

“Um, are you sure?” Mark asked hesitantly. He gave Roger a funny look. Roger glared back.

 

“Yeah, definitely. We were just starting to go out around that time and Roger promised to take me there on 'a real date'.” She smirked at the musician. Roger made a face. Oh god, was I ever that pathetic? What kind of date is going to a museum? I mean, mummies would be cool, and I kinda wondered how they do all that shit... Oh, and all that mythology and stuff...

 

“Oh, crap.” Roger muttered. Maureen smirked; she knew he remembered. Mark seemed to be confused before he let this goofy, lopsided grin cross his lips.

 

“Wow, Roger, how romantic of you.” Both Maureen and Mark giggled. The musician rolled his eyes.

 

“What? I was in fucking high school. Like I knew better.” He sulked.

 

“Are you saying that you, Mr. Rock God of Sex, didn't know what to do for a date?” Mark asked in mock amazement. Maureen laughed in delight. She knew this was going to end her way. Both Mark and Roger were easy to reel in.

 

“Are you saying that you were any better, Mr. Pale and Scrawny Jew?” Roger challenged back. This is pissing me off. I could be sleeping right now!

 

“Roger!” Maureen yelled in shock. “Watch your language.” Both boys had to raise an eyebrow. “Jew is such a horrible word.” Roger broke out in a grin, laughing when Mark threw the nearest item – a pair of sweats – at the drama queen. She of course threw them back at Mark, which of course started a throwing fight. Roger watched as several articles of clothing, crumbled pieces of paper, two pillows, and a towel go back and forth between the filmmaker and the drama queen. The musician sighed.

 

“Hey!” He barked. Mark and Maureen froze mid-throw. “Could you take this out of my room? I like to keep it on a semi-clean basis.” He crossed his arms. So much for sleeping.

 

Mark immediately dropped his item – a pillow – and looked around the room. His expression became concerned.

 

“Such a party pooper!” Maureen stated as she jumped off the bed. She stepped on the mess they created and walked out the door. Mark's expression became even more worried, almost pained. Roger sighed as he quickly shoved his friend out the room.

 

Mark made a whine of protest, but Roger cut him off. “No.” He said simply. “If I let you clean it, I won't be able to find anything.” Cause when you actually clean, your fucking OCD kicks in, Roger inwardly shuddered, thus, the reason you're not allowed. He guided his roommate to their table where Mark pouted. Maureen rolled her eyes.

 

“You two act more like a couple every day. Why not just make it official?” She commented while digging through their surprisingly stocked fridge. Roger snorted.

 

“No thanks. Unlike you, I just don't up and switch teams.” Roger bit back. There was a pause in Maureen's movement for a bit. Mark sighed, glaring at the musician. Maureen however, just resurfaced from the fridge with a bottle of water in hand.

 

“Whatever you say, Rog.” Maureen smiled, taking a sip. Roger narrowed his eyes. What's she planning? “Now you have to take me to the museum, or I get to reveal a secret.” She smiled devilishly. Which wasn't good. Crap.

 

Mark raised an eyebrow in interest. “What secret?” He looked between the two, a little hurt he didn't know. Maureen just looked at Roger, smiling like a feline. Roger blinked in realization.

 

“Two, actually.” Maureen giggled. Mark's eyes widened in curiosity and looked at Roger. Yikes, time to cut it.

 

“Stop with the girl talk, and let me get dressed. We're going to the fucking museum.” The musician grumbled. Maureen laughed in delight and victory as Roger made his way to his room. Why, God, why couldn't you just let me sleep in?!

 

As he was changing, his dream came back to him. The blonde furrowed his brow as he remembered the blurred figures and the one sentence he'd managed to hear. An uneasiness began to creep its way into his stomach and chest. “What the hell...?”

 

What could it all mean?


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