Crankiplier Oneshots

He Melted Every Single Goddamn Time (Fluff)

Ethan tossed and turned in his sleep. The January air bit at his fingertips, piercing the sheet that lay across only half of him. The curtains fluttered, their dark canvas casting shadows across the floor. His whole body began to shiver and his teeth clicked like marbles on a tiled floor. The tips of his hair trembled against his nose and he grumbled under his breath. Before he was cold and bitter, now he was cold, bitter, and awake. It was bullshit.

Ethan muttered to himself quietly, cursing the entire concept of winter. He didn't mean it. He had always loved the snow. When Mark drove the two of them out to Lake Arrowhead in late February with the dogs, he always missed it in the days after. Mark had a cabin out there, so it was a wonder that he still shared an apartment with Ethan. It was nice though.

He stumbled out of his room, completely forgetting to do anything about the open window that caused him such grief. He was practically tripping over his own feet, the tiredness still ever present in his weary legs. Rightfully so, it was 2:36 in the morning. Ethan fell into the kitchen, catching himself on the stone-topped counter. Spencer let out a sharp bark, evidently disturbed, and scuttled into Mark's room through the open door. His lips parted to call Spencer back. He wasn't allowed in the bedrooms.

"Don't worry about it, he can go in." A voice. Mark's voice.
"What?" It wasn't that Ethan hadn't heard. He realised what Mark had said only a second later.
"Chica's in there anyway, there's no point."
Ethan exhaled through his nose, the midpoint between a laugh and a sigh.

"Did I wake you?" Mark's voice was as it always was, a melodic tone with a deep and almost gravelly finish. Ethan was never able to find the words to describe a voice like Mark's, and he thought that maybe it was better that way. Such a tremendous thing ought to be left unspoken as to not be sullied by a common turn of phrase.

He was quick to reassure Mark in the fact that he was awake for reasons unrelated to him. After stumbling through an unnecessarily long winded explanation, he found himself sitting cross-legged on the couch beside Mark.

"What are you doing up this late anyway?" He mumbled. Ethan's eyes were cloudy and unbeknownst to him, his focus was on Mark's lips as he spoke. He didn't mean to. It was late. He could barely think.
"Editing. I'm so close to being done." Mark was staring at the laptop screen, the warm glow sharpening his features and highlighting the dark lines beneath his eyes.
"How long has it been since you've slept properly, bubba?" Ethan asked gently, hoping it didn't seem like he was attacking him.

A sigh escaped Mark's lips and his entire face seemed to relax. His eyes glazed over for only a second. He melted every single goddamn time he called him that, and Ethan knew it.
"It- um- a bit- days- oh fuck off." He bumped Ethan with his shoulder and grinned at him. Although he stumbled over his words, Ethan knew it had been a while.

He leaned his elbow on the back of the couch and began to twist his fingers in Mark's hair at the base of his neck. It didn't take a genius to know that that was exactly what he needed. Mark's eyes flickered back and forth on the screen, looking at the same words over and over but never actually reading them.

When Mark turned to face him, Ethan was sure his previously stern expression looked even the slightest bit softer. His eyebrows were a little less closely knit together, his jaw was a little less clenched, and his eyes were moony and warm.
That shade of brown. In what world could Ethan ever forget those eyes. They glistened like the sun and they were always filled with so much life, rimmed with the ideas of a beautiful madman. The stars could only dream of such a thing.

"I love you, dude" Mark whispered into his neck, burying his face in Ethan's hair. It was considerably longer than it had been a year ago, and it smelled of apples. There were too many things to love about him.

"I love you too, Mark." Ethan knew that Mark was tired. He knew that he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. He knew it would only hurt. But he couldn't pull away when his best friend looked up at him, eyes glistening with just a hint of sleepy giddiness, and kissed him. Right there.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to pull away.