Title: How can we pay?

Author: Griffin Maxwell

Fandom: Rent

Pairing: Mark/various males

Rating: R, I guess

Summery: Sometimes there's only one way to pay

Warnings: sex for favors

Disclaimer: Don't own most of the people, or the setting.

Dedication: all my fellow Rent-heads

Mark stumbled up the stairs towards the loft that he and Roger still shared. It had been a hard few months, harder than Mark could ever remember. Mimi had died; Collins had moved; and their building had been sold to a new man who was nowhere near as flexible as Benny was. The rent was low. However, combined with food and Rogers AZT, it was almost unreachable.

Mark tripped on a step and fell hard, landing on his arm as he clutched his camera close.

He heard someone come out the loft on the nearest floor. He heard a muttered 'fuck', then quick footsteps over to him.

"Hey. Hey, man." A hand gently shook him but he was too exhausted to move. "You okay, man?"

Mark nodded a tiny bit. The man obviously didn't believe him.

"Come on." He helped Mark into a sitting position. He didn't even bother trying to get him to stand. Instead, he picked the small man up, earning only a small moan as a protest. He carried him into the apartment he had come out of and placed him carefully on the couch. The man kneeled next to Mark. "You need ice or somethin'?" the man asked.

Mark carefully shook his head. "Just need to lie down…"

"You are lying down, so just relax." They fell onto a silence for a little while. "Where do you live?"

"Top floor," Mark muttered.

"And what's your name?"

"Ma-Mark. Cohen."

"Okay, Mark. I'm Jimmy. Now, you just relax, okay?"

Mark then let himself fall asleep.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Roger sighed in frustration as he heard a kick against the loft door. He put down his guitar carefully and headed to open the door. He was about to tell whoever it was off when he saw Mark unconscious in a strangers arms.

"What the fuck did you do to him?" Roger almost yelled.

The man didn't flinch.

"Is there a place I can lay him down?"

"In his room, over there." Roger pointed towards the bedroom. He kept a hawk eye on the stranger as he carefully placed Mark on the bed, slipped off his shoes, and tucked him in. He went back out to where Roger was, shutting the door behind him.

"What did you do to him?" Roger repeated, crossing his arms.

"I found him like that on the steps outside my apartment. He passed out on my couch."

Roger glared, obviously not believing the man.

"Can you tell him that his camera is still at my place when he wakes up?"

"Uh, sure."

"Thanks." The stranger threw a small smile over his shoulder as he left.

Roger stared at the door for a minute, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He shook himself out of his daze, remembering Mark. He grabbed his notebook and pen off the couch and headed to the filmmakers room. He settled himself in the old chair Mark kept and wrote until his roommate woke up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Mark woke up an hour or so later. He tried to move and his body stung. He couldn't hold in the groan.

"Mark? You 'wake?" Mark felt his bed dip a little where Roger sat down.

"Yeah…" Roger placed a hand on Mark's shoulder but Mark flinched away. "Don't touch me," he begged.

"Mark? What happened to you?" Roger whispered.

"I don't wanna talk 'bout it.

Roger sighed. "Who was the guy who brought you back? Did he do this to you?
He traced a finger along Mark's swelling cheek.

"Jimmy? Jimmy didn't do this. He found me on the steps like this. I was too weak to make it all the way up here."

"Too weak? Mark, are you sick? Have you been eating?" Roger felt weird having reversed roles with his best friend, but it also somehow felt right.

"I guess I've been to busy to think about eating," Mark confessed.

"I think you need to take a few days off."

"We can't afford to. You know that."

"Mark, it's only going to get worse if you don't rest now," Roger insisted.

Mark sighed in defeat, knowing that his friend was right.

"I'm gonna go make you some tea."

Mark smiled the tiniest bit. Roger never offered to do things for him. Roger gave him a returning smile before slipping out of the room.

He returned ten minutes later with a mug of tea. Mark had pulled himself into a sitting position. He took the mug gratefully.

"Uh, that guy downstairs asked me to tell you that your camera is still at his place."

"Thanks. I'll get it when I'm done with this."

"I'll go with you."

"I'll be fine, Roger."

"No. Mark, listen to me for a second?" Roger waited for Mark to look at him before continuing. "I knew that guy looked familiar, and while you were asleep it hit me. Mark, He's a dealer. You know how unstable they can be."

"I'm just getting my camera."

"I don't trust him. Just let me come with you?"

Mark put his mug down on the floor. "Fine." He slowly grabbed his shoes, trying not to aggravate his already aching body.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Mark knocked softly on Jimmy's door. He felt nervous. Not only about the visit, but Roger standing behind him so protectively was making him uncomfortable.

Jimmy opened the door and smiled when he saw Mark.

Getting a good look at Jimmy, Mark couldn't believe that he was a drug dealer. He looked too clean, and freckles made him look younger than he probably was.

"How are you feeling?" Jimmy asked.

Mark shrugged. "A little better, I guess."

"I'm assuming you're here for you camera?"

Mark nodded.

"Come on in." Jimmy opened the door more to let him in. he looked over at Roger. "You're welcome to come in, too."

Roger gave a curt nod and followed Mark.

Jimmy grabbed Mark's camera form a table next to the door. He handed it to Mark who took it and held it against his chest. "Thank You."

"Don't mention it," Jimmy said with a wave of the hand. "Would you like to stay for awhile?"

"No. Thank you," Mark said politely.

"Oh." There was a hint of disappointment in Jimmy's voice.

"I'm just really tired, still," Mark explained. "I'll come visit when I feel better…if you want, I mean."

"Come by anytime. I love having people visit."

Mark smiled and headed towards the door before he noticed Roger wasn't following. "Rog? You coming?"

"You go up. I wanna have a chat with your friend first."

"Roger, don't go looking for trouble," Mark warned.

"I'm not. Just go back up to bed. I'll be up in a few minutes."

Mark hesitated, but finally left.

Jimmy leaned against the wall. "So, you wanted to talk."

"I know you're a dealer. I want you to stay away from Mark."

Jimmy laughed. "I'm not like most dealers-"

"Dealers are all the same," Roger interrupted. "I'm not going to let Mark fall into your trap."

"There's not trap. I sell, yeah, but only to those who already want it. I'm not looking to get anyone hooked. Shit, I don't even do that stuff myself. I just sell the shit."

Roger glared at him. "I have no control over who Mark wants to hang with, but if I find out you do anything, and I mean i anything /i , to hurt him, I will kick your ass."

Jimmy nodded. "It's a deal. I ain't looking to hurt anyone."

Roger glared at him one last time for good measure before brushing past and heading back to his loft.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Mark fell asleep almost as soon as he got back to the loft. He slept through the night, which was rare. He woke up at 9 the next morning; earlier than he or Roger ever got up. He felt like shit. Not only physically, but he had a secret that was slowly killing him on the inside. With Collins gone, there was no one left to tell, since there was no way he could tell Roger.

He decided to take Jimmy up on his offer to visit.

He snuck out of his room and over to the window, since he knew the noise from the door would wake Roger. He snuck down the fire escape to Jimmy's floor.

Through the glass he could see the man sitting in front of a table measuring some sort of white powered. He debated on whether he should knock or go back to his own loft. Before he could make up his mind, Jimmy spotted him and motioned for him to come in.

Mark opened the window and hopped into the room.

"Don't be shy. Make yourself at home."

Mark walked in slowly and took a seat in a chair across from Jimmy.

"Are you feeling better?" Jimmy asked as he went back to measuring.

"Yes and no. I just really need to tell someone, anyone, what's going on."

"Can't talk to your roommate?"

Mark shook his head. "He can't know…"

"So you wanna tell me?" Mark nodded slowly. "Okay." Jimmy put down his work and looked at Mark. "I'm all ears."

"You sure you don't mind…?"

"Not at all," Jimmy confirmed.

Mark bit his lip, thinking of where to begin. "For a long time we didn't have to pay any rent. But now with the new owner…well, you know. And between food and Roger's medicine, we can't afford it. So I did the only thing I could think of…I tried to make a deal with him…the only way he would let the rent go is if I let him…" Mark started shaking, "…if I let him fuck me. It was the only option. So I agreed…

"He hurts me. He fucks me raw, hits me, makes me feel like shit, wears me out, and after that, I still have to go to work.

"On top of that, I'm alone. I pick everyone else up and there's no one left to pick me up…"

Jimmy got up and sat in front of Mark, lightly placing a hand on his knee. "I'll help you up. If you want, that is." Jimmy moved himself so his face was in front of Marks. So he was staring into his eyes.

"Really?" Mark whispered.

Jimmy nodded. "I'll help you in any way I can. I promise."

Mark tentatively leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Once he was sure he wasn't going to be rejected, he pulled back a little. "Thank you."