My Angel -septiplier

Chapter 11

So we've had ten or so chapters in Jack's PoV – let's switch it up a bit, shall we?

For the first time in weeks, Jack wakes up alone in his bed. Somehow, it makes the entire room seem colder. He throws clothes on hastily and, without considering an alternative, walks out to his car.
He enters the spacious house without knocking, easing his body into the beanbag chair still lying by the window. Laying his head against the back, he lets out a long huff of air and allows his body to relax. Just a short time later, he stands, hearing Mark enter the room.
The angel crosses the space between them effortlessly and wordlessly, meeting Jack in a firm, tender hold. Their mouths collide after a minute, quiet passion dancing between the two.
When they split apart, Mark's blissful, heavy-lidded gaze meets Jack's beatific eyes, capturing them in an almost unrelenting hold. "Good morning," Mark murmurs, shifting to rest his chin on top of Jack's head. "Did you sleep well?"
Jack doesn't answer immediately; in truth, he was restless being away from Mark for the whole night, but he had no reason to tell the man that.
"Relatively," he allows. "And you?"
Though Jack can't see it, Mark's eyes flit away from him, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he ponders his answer. "I did not want you to go home," he finally admits. "I was scared Hantu would find you and that I would not be there."
Jack nods absentmindedly. He is distracted by the feel of Mark's mouth moving over the top of his head when he speaks, sending pulsing shivers of electricity through his body. He pulls Mark closer, wrapping both of his arms around his chest and squeezing gently.
Moving for just a second, he places a feather-light kiss behind Mark's ear before pulling him back towards the windows. The two make an ultimately futile attempt to squish their beanbags together before Mark finally gives up. He crashes into his, pulling his lover, defeated but not unhappy, into his lap.
Jack curls into a tight ball before sighing. "I'm tired of all this supernatural bullshit," he sighs. "I just want to spend some time with my boyfriend. Is that too much to ask?"
Instantly, Mark tenses, almost throwing Jack off him as his back straightens. "Is – is that wh – what we are?" he asks, stumbling over his words. Lightning is coursing through his veins, but to Jack, the room seems much colder. He shivers, huddling deeper into Mark's chest. "I just... if you don't want to, that's okay, but I was just, um..."
His voice trails off, teeth beginning to chatter. "Can you turn off the air conditioning?"
Mark laughs joyfully, pressing his now ice-cold lips to Jack's cheek. The younger pulls his hands into the sleeves of his jacket and bats him away, giggling and pressing his face into Mark's shoulder.
"I am sorry," Mark smiles. "You just surprised me. But yes, of course you can call me your boyfriend."
Jack flushes, burying his expression deeper into the crook of Mark's neck. "I will warn you, though," Mark begins seriously, "if you are with me, in any sense of the word, supernatural bullshit is bound to follow."
Jack smiles, emerging from the comfort of Mark's t-shirt to cup a hand around his jaw. "You know, I think I can put up with it."
Mark is just drawing him in for a kiss when they are interrupted by a frantic knocking at the front door. The quiet rapping quickly turns into an urgent pounding.
"Stay here," Mark murmurs, sliding out from under Jack and moving to answer it.