Jacksepticeye Imagines

Sidekicks

WARNING! SEPTIPLIER INCOMING!! (Well, sorta....)

Mark gets up from his computer and Jack does the same. Now that they're living together, it's easier to do a lot together.

"Wanna go out for a mocha?" Mark asks Jack as I fly closer to Jack's head. I give a small pout as he grabs his jacket.

Mark grabs his, as well, "Don't worry, Sam, we'll be back." I give a small sound of distress, but Jack waves me off.

"Sam, chill, we'll be right back." He laughs as if I'm nothing but a sidekick. Is that all I am?

Suddenly, Tim waddles into the room. He lifts his arms to Mark, "Mark, don't leave." God, he's such a child, sometimes....

Mark picks him up and cuddles him, "Don't worry, my little biscuit, we'll be right back. We're just going to the coffee shop down the street to get a couple of mochas."

Jack grabs me and gives me a kiss on the head, "We'll be back, Sam. Be good."

Then they leave us to our own devices. I hear the front door shut and I know it's just Tim and I.

Tim glances at me, raising his tiny arms in the air, "Now what?"

I try to shrug until.... Oh, yeah. I can't. I don't have shoulders.

I give a small sound, trying to tell Tim that I have an idea.

"What is it?" Tim asks, scooting closer to where I fly just above the carpet.

I spin in a circle, to try to tell him that my idea....... is to play Tag.

"Tag, it is, then," Tim decides. We wait for a silent moment before Tim slaps me on the side of my eyes.

"You're it!" He yells before waddling away, down the hall, at the fastest pace that he can manage.

Ow. I'm just hurting at how he pretty much slapped my eyeball. I mean, I only have one, you know.

Realizing that the game has already started, I zoom down the hall and peek in the bedroom. I check under the bed, but I don't see any bright blue eyes staring at me anywhere.

I tug open the closet by pushing on the handle with my head. It opens with a loud creak.

I stare at the pile of clothes lumped in the corner.

Until I see it move.

I dive into the pile of clothes and, underneath a pair of Mark's red boxers (ooh la la), and there he is. He sees me and starts to giggle. He tries to jump out of the closet, but I bump him up onto the bed.

He smiles as I hover over him and watch him stare at me.

We stay like this for several minutes. I study his tiny boxy form, his deep blue eyes, and his small hands that could prolly fit -

"What are we doing?" Tim suddenly speaks before hiding a giggle under his breath.

I make a giggly sound myself. I can't tell if he knows that I am smiling, bigger than I ever have before, or not.

Then I hear a sound.

It's a door closing.

I fly out of the bedroom and zoom into the living room.

But it's not Jack.

And it's not Mark.

It's a guy with a gun.

"What the - ?" He spots me and points the gun at me, "Die, you freaky thing!" He fires just as Tim comes around the corner.

I zoom, faster than I thought I ever could before, over to Tim and push him behind the wall. The bullet strikes the paint on the hallway and goes right through its thin shell.
 All that's left is a charred spot.

Tim tries to make a sound, but I shush him. I don't who this man is or how he got in this house, but he needs to leave. NOW.

I hear his footsteps clamber closer. I wait for the perfect moment to move.

He takes another step. Not yet....

And another. Almost....

He's so close I can hear him around the corner.

NOW.

I zoom up toward him and clock him underneath the chin. He falls onto the carpet, stunned. He drops his gun on the carpet, as well.

As he realizes what hit him, he reaches for his gun, but I push it away. It lightly knocks against the grate that surrounds the fireplace pit.

"Why, you - " He grabs a knife and points it at me.

Tim watches from around the corner. He looks as scared as I feel. We're not meant to do this, we're only sidekicks. We can't do this on our own.....

And like a prayer from Heaven above, a familiar hand punches the guy right in the cheek.

Jack stands over him, wearing the angriest face I've ever seen him wear. Mark just stands from afar, watching. Ha, like father, like son.

Jack drops to his knees and starts punching the guy in the stomach. He does it over and over. He seems to be getting his rage out, for some reason.

When it reaches the point where I start to feel bad for the guy, I cuddle myself into Jack's neck and hide my one eye from the sight. This calms Jack down and brings him back to his senses.

He sighs, "Are you okay?" His voice is scratchy, like he was the only one nervous.

I nod and give him a half-smile.

Mark avoids the whole scene and tip-toes around it. He runs to Tiny Box Tim and cuddles with him. He gives a kiss on Tim's head. Jack does the same for me.

"I'm just glad you're alright," Jack sighs again.

Mark gives me a proud look and says, "Good job."

I give another smile, this one as bright as the Bossitronio moon on a clear night.

I did a good thing today. Well, two things.

One, I saved Tiny Box Tim's life.

And two?

I proved we're not just sidekicks.

Who else wants to see Tim and Sam again? I really liked writing it from their perspectives and I think I might do it again. Do you want me to? Leave a comment. I'd love to read it.

FM