My Angel -septiplier

Chapter 8

I wake up to a comfortable heat pressed against my back. I smile slightly as I recall the events of last night – the archangel, the misleading clues from Mark, and finally with the man himself. The position we're in is making me a bit uncomfortable, with one of his hands slung carelessly over my hip and resting on my stomach. I squirm a bit, but he simply tightens his grip around me.

I manage to roll myself over so that I am facing him. Placing my hand on his upper arm, I shake him gently. "Mark," I whisper. He opens his eyes blearily, then quickly squeezes his eyes shut again. "No thank you," he grumbles. "I would rather remain asleep right now." I grin. "And why would that be?" He yawns. "Because I am having a really nice dream where there is a really cute guy in my bed," he mumbles.

I blush, burying my face in his chest. He chuckles, sending gentle vibrations through my own body. Resting his chin on top of my head, he says, "Why do we need to get up today?" Thinking for a minute, I eventually respond, "Because I should probably be productive. Or go back to my own house." He laughs gently again. "Alright, Jack. We will go to your house today."

After breakfast, I steal one of Mark's sweatshirts and pull on my jeans. He comes into the room a second later, and freezes when he sees me. A smile slowly grows on his lips. "You look really good," he admits hesitantly. "Thank you," I smile, sliding past him and into the hallway.

We arrive at my apartment shortly before noon. "Would you to accompany me inside?" I ask, smiling. "It's not nearly as nice as your place, but, you know, it's home..." I trail off. "I would love to," he says reassuringly.

I unlock my door, pushing it inwards to reveal my small, cozy home. Mark looks around, shoulders relaxing at the comfortable sight. Instinctively, my shoulders loosen and I sigh. "Welcome home," I say. He smiles, hooking an arm around my waist and dragging me down to the couch. "Don't stress, Jacky," he murmurs. "I'm not stressed," I mutter, trying to wriggle out of his arms. "Nooooo, don't leave me!" He pretends to be in great distress.

I sigh, jumping backwards onto his lap. "Okay, Mark, I'm not stressed," I whine. "Can I be productive now?" He pouts, sticking out his bottom lip and giving me puppy dog eyes. "Don't give me that," I groan. "Just... watch TV or something, I don't care. Entertain yourself somehow." off him and walk into the next room to my computer.

He comes in a few hours later and rests his forehead on my shoulder. "Jack, I am profoundly bored," he moans. "Can we please have dinner now?" I sigh, stroking the top of his head. "Sure, Mark."

After dinner, I throw him a pair of pajama pants. "Do you... have a shirt too?" he asks shyly. "Nothing I have is going to fit you," I reply apologetically. "Just leave it off. I don't mind your wings." He hesitates, then nods.

He is in bed before me, and I lie down facing his back. His wings have lightened, and they shift as he breathes in and out. I stroke the very edge of one gently, noticing his breathing hitch. "Why do you care about me?" I ask Mark. He doesn't respond for a long moment, and I think he's fallen asleep. Suddenly, he rolls over to face me. "I do not know," he says. "But I know that I do. And for the last two days, all I have wanted to do was this."

Abruptly, his warm lips are crushed against my own. I melt into him, allowing my arm to rest on his waist. His hand is pressed to the back of my head, gently attaching himself to me. I jerk away in surprise, and instantly his eyes fill with shame and fear. "I – I'm sorry," he . And I can't help it. As and overwhelmed and stressed as I am, the genuine apology in his voice sends me over the edge.

I burst out laughing.

Mark looks completely confused, and honestly, I don't blame him. I don't know why I'm laughing either, but really, everything feels too good, and I can't stop. "Don't be sorry, you goober," I giggle. "Come here and do it again!"