Septiplier One-Shots

Honesty

SCREECH
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And so it continues...

"Another one?" the barkeep asked, and Jack nodded, handing his glass forward. Whatever alcohol he had ordered awhile ago filled up the cup, and Jack brought it back to his mouth, taking another shot. It was only his third, and living up to his Irish-ness, he wasn't too out of it. Yet, he knew that if he planned on getting home he would probably have to be more sober.
Home. That was where Mark was. Was he still angry at Jack? Why had he been angry? Jack wondered if maybe Mark was simply trying to pass off what happened as some sort of accident because it hadn't meant anything to him, but the thought made Jack sad and he pushed it away. Mark was probably just as confused that morning, as he had been, and things weren't exactly better now, but hopefully they would die down. Jack stopped for a moment, considering that maybe he should get a hotel for the night and let things die down with Mark anyway, but shook off that thought. There was only one thing that he needed to do at this moment, and that was to think.
What had happened the night prior? After watching the video he was able to vaguely recall some of it, but getting drunk and making out with his best friend was never on his to do list. Yet, he was able to see where it built up before that. Mark had simply been so nice, who knew he could have been harboring feelings? Or was it even that? It could have been the alcohol working out the motions in the long run, although with the way that things had ended, and just how heated it got between them, Jack didn't see that as a factor.
Had he done something wrong to make Mark so angry this morning? Was he just confused, was it something that Bob had told him over the phone? Jack had so many questions, but none of them would be answered by him sitting at this smoke-filled bar with more drunk people wandering around him like zombies. He ran his finger around the edge of the shot glass before standing up and heading for the door, leaving a small amount of cash. He walked out into the rain once more, barely dry from his last excursion. He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at his shoes as he made it back to Mark's house, rather slowly.
"Mark?" he called once out once he had gotten through the door. There was no response, and Jack hadn't seen the man's car in the driveway either. He must have gone out. Jack went up to his room, changing into sweats that were warmer, and dry, and he looked at the picture of his family before smiling. Once this blew over he would call them.
He decided to record a couple videos, psyching himself up for the fans and allowing the games to wash away his other problems. He loved YouTube, and those who watched his videos, and interacting with both of these things only made his day that much better. He always went to work when he wanted to be happy, and after a few hours it never failed to deliver.
While leaving the edits to upload, he wandered back downstairs into the kitchen. Curiously enough, it was growing dark outside and Mark still had not returned. Jack desperately wanted him to, for he needed to speak with the man. There was so much on his mind and he wondered how he would be able to say it all to him without rambling or veering off track. He made himself some tea, breathing in the warmth and taking a sip. He was comfortable, this was comfortable. He wandered out of the kitchen, and turned to look at the front door as he thought he saw movement.
Mark stood in the doorway, barely outline against the night, soaking wet.
"Fucking hell!" Jack exclaimed, jumping into the air and spilling tea all over himself. "Mark, what the fuck? You scared me!" Mark blinked, realizing that it really was Jack standing in front of him, before shutting the door and darting forward, examining the Irishman.
"I'm so sorry, are you hurt? Anything burn? Should I get you a towel?" Mark demanded, the words rushing out rather quickly as Jack looked down at his sweatshirt.
"Mark, think for yourself first, you're soaked!" Jack scolded him gently, and Mark looked down before shaking his head.
"No, wait, there's something I need to tell you."
"Mark get cleaned up first at least, please?" Jack said, concern layering his voice. Mark simply removed his beanie from his head and threw the sopping piece of clothing across the room. He grabbed Jack's shoulders as the man set his cup down and took his full attention.
"There's something of vital importance that I need to tell you first." Mark repeated, and Jack froze, blush creeping up his neck and cheeks as Mark swallowed. "I love your laugh." It was now Mark's turned to blush as Jack frowned in confusion.
"What?"
"I mean-!" Mark sighed, scrunching his face and trying to find the right words. "I love your laughter, I love your sense of humor." He corrected himself, and Jack stared at him as he continued. "I love the way your eyes shine when you talk about something you love, and I love the way you react to horror games as well as normal games. I love your accent, and your long sleeve shirts, and I love your hair and the fact that you're about an inch taller than me if not two. I love the fact that you're so optimistic, and I love that you care so much about everything you're passionate about." Jack's eyes widened, unsure of what to say. He couldn't form any words to respond, but Mark wasn't quite finished. He sighed, letting go of Jack and taking a step back. "Above all, I'm so sorry that I snapped at you this morning. Everything last night meant something to me, and I was so worried that it didn't to you, and so confused about how to go about this that I snapped. Bob chewed me out over the phone, and I'm so sorry." Mark his his face in his hands. He wanted to cry, he wanted to sob and break down, he felt waves of guilt consuming him.
"Its okay," he lifted his head and looked at Jack, who was smiling. "I was a bit confused too, it was one helluva night and neither of us could quite properly remember it anyway, but I'm glad that you're here now. I was so worried you hated me and left the house, I didn't know."
"No, never that!" Mark said firmly, stepping back closer to Jack and grabbing his arms. "Please never think that, please don't leave either. I want you to stay here with me." There was a moment of silence, and Jack smiled, and nodded. Relief shot through Mark like a bolt of lightning, and he sighed, his shoulders relaxing from being tense. He looked up at Jack and met blue eyes. "Jack, can I kiss you?" Jack's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and his ears went red once more as his face did.
"S-sure," he stammered, and Mark leaned forward. He kissed the Irishman, ever so gently that it was almost not even there, rather a wisp of what could have been. Jack returned it, a bit more forceful, more needy. Mark went to wrap his arms around Jack, but the man leapt backwards out of his grasp, laughing. "Mark, you're still soaked!" Mark looked down at his apparel, and laughed as well, shaking his head.
"Sorry, I'll go change, and then we can eat and watch a movie and cuddle on the couch or something, okay?" Mark asked, walking back up to Jack and leaning his forehead against the other man's. Jack nodded slightly.
"I'd like that."

To be continued...