Disclaimer: I don't own, I RENT. (Don't own Billy Joel, either)

Summary: When Angel and Collins are called on to run damage control yet again, Collins decides to kick Roger into action. AngelCollins and RogerMimi, Twoshot, second chapter songfic to Billy Joel's "The Longest Time"

A/N: Uh, hi. I know I've been gone for ages, but I'm trying to get back into fanfiction and just got an explosion of inspiration from Billy Joel songs, so expect some new stuff coming up. This chapter has lots of Collins/Roger friendship. Woot.

"Hey, honey?"

"Mm?" Collins looked up from his book to see Angel standing in the door, biting her bottom lip. He immediately set his book down, got up, and went over to her. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"It's Roger and Mimi..."

"They broke up again?!" Angel nodded, and Collins shook his head in exasperation. "Those two… we'd better go do damage control."

-+-

After leaving Angel at Mimi's apartment, Collins headed up the stairs to the Loft. He grabbed the door and threw it open, walking inside with a bellow:

"ROGER. GET YOUR ANGSTY ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Mark nearly fell off his stool at the kitchen counter. "Collins? What the hell?!"

Collins looked at him. "And you, you get your skinny albino ass outside and film some random hobo for a while. Me and Roger have got to have a little talk."

"This about Mimi?" Mark asked, gathering up his camera bag. Collins looked at him, and he nodded. "Right then." Then, in an exasperated tone, "Good luck. You'll need it." He left, sliding the big metal door shut behind him. Collins turned to the empty room and took a deep breath.

"ROGER WILHELM DAVIS. IF YOU DON'T—"

"I'm right here, Collins." Roger's irritable voice came out of his bedroom, shortly followed by the rocker himself, his long blond hair going every which way.

Collins pointed to the couch. "Sit."

"What—"

"Sit."

Roger sat. He watched Collins pace back and forth in front of him for a while before remarking, "Look, I have better things to do than watch you wear a hole in the floor. You clearly have something to say, so say it."

"Fine." Collins whirled on him. "What the hell do you think you're doing with Mimi?"

Roger's eyes widened in anger. "What?! Look, Collins, I'm doing my best—"

"No, you're not!" Collins waved his arms around. "You're not trying at all, because you're scared. No, don't deny it! You know as well as I do that I'm right. Yes, Mimi has AIDS. Yes, she could very easily die at any time, but that doesn't matter! So could I, so could Angel, and so could you. But me and Angel are doing just fine, and Mimi certainly doesn't seem to have any problems from her end! If you really love her, it shouldn't matter that she has AIDS. If you don't , then get the hell over yourself and end it before you keep hurting Mimi."

Roger was silent for a long time, staring at his plaid-clad legs. Finally, he looked up and asked, "How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"How do you know that you love Angel?"

"Well, I—" Collins stopped and frowned. He had to think about this one. He flopped onto the couch beside Roger, his brow furrowed in thought. "Every time I see her, my heart skips a beat and suddenly I feel lighter than air. I get this tingly feeling all through my body, and suddenly it doesn't seem like my troubles really matter anymore. I'd die for her, and I'd die without her. I want to spend every possible minute we have left together." He paused.

Roger opened his mouth, but Collins stopped him. "You make one crack about how sappy that sounded and I will personally smash your goddamn guitar into exactly thirty-four pieces."

Another moment passed in silence, and then suddenly Roger started to laugh. Collins raised his eyebrows, but couldn't help chuckling himself.

"I'm such an idiot, Collins." Roger said softly once his laughs had subsided.

"Yeah you are. Especially if it took you this long to figure it out." Collins grinned at him and got up, adjusting his precious beanie on his head. "So, what are you gonna do when Mimi comes back up here, huh?"

Roger stood up as well, smirking just a little bit. "Why would I tell you that?"

Collins raised his eyebrows again. "So I can make sure you're not being an insensitive asshole like you have in the past?"

He shook his head. "I'm not."

Collins just shook his head, grinning, and turned to go. Roger stopped him. "Wait. I have an idea to make it up to Mimi, but I need you and Mark's help."

"Sure thing, rocker boy." Collins walked over to the window and clambered out onto the rickety fire escape. Leaning over the railing, he bellowed, "Oi, albino, get your ass up here!"

Mark's voice came back faint. "But I just found a hobo to film!"

"Don't care! Up. Now."

"Fine!"

As he climbed back through the window, Collins met Roger's eyes. A moment later, they both burst out laughing.

"A hobo?!" Roger choked, clutching his stomach.

Collins didn't manage a response until Mark slid the door back and came in, looking sullen. "Y'know, pumpkinhead, I wasn't being serious."

"Well, what else did you expect me to do?" Mark demanded, making a face. "I didn't exactly know how long you'd be, so I didn't want to go far. The only people around are hobos, but most of them chuck stuff at you."

He got a stubbornly indignant look on his face as both of the others continued laughing. Finally, he glanced at the clock on the wall. "Okay, it's been five minutes. You can stop now."

Roger straightened up, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Oh, God. A hobo." He snickered.

Mark folded his arms. "What did you want me for, anyway? Comic relief?"

As the last of his chuckles subsided, Roger was suddenly all business again. "No, I need your help, actually."

"Who says I'd want to help you, after you laughed at me?" The others stared at him. "…Fine. It's for Mimi?"

Roger nodded. "Now, here's what I need you guys to do…"