You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Last Time

"I don't want that to be us, Mark," Jack whispers, petrified. Because he can image it. In five years, they both have spouses, children, but they live for the conventions, when they can come together once again. Then it's over, and they go back to their families. But another convention comes, and they find their way back into each other's arms. Like clockwork, the pattern repeats until it explodes or one of them dies.

Mark shushes him gently, pulling him tighter into his side. "That won't be us. I won't let that be us."

Mark scoots back onto the bed, pulling Jack into his lap. The Irishman naturally falls against Mark's chest, arms looping around his neck. He gives a soft kiss to Mark's jawline as he's wrapped in his arms. Mark smiles softly, looking into the pure eyes of his lover.

"Listen, Jack," Mark begins softly. "I can't do this for five years. I don't even think I can do this for another month. We both need to make a decision."

Jack opens his mouth to reply, but Mark continues before he can get a word in. "But I'm not letting either of us make it now. Because right now, it feels like my world revolves around you. But it won't feel like that when we are halfway across the world. And we both need a clear head if we are going to make this decision."

Jack nods slowly, knowing Mark is right. It will feel terribly different back in Ireland, when he is with his girlfriend, when Mark's touch is a distant memory.

"I don't want to give you a deadline," Mark mentions, "But I need to know where we are at after we both go home. I don't care if you call me or text me or email me or send me a goddamn letter. I just need to know after the dust settles."

Jack nods, scared for the future, but just wanting to be with Mark now. He reaches up to place a kiss on the corner of Mark's lips, loving the tingle that goes straight to his heart. Mark turns his head to catch the Irishman's mouth, kissing him softly.

With sure hands, the American guides the smaller down, mouths and bodies sliding together. Head on the pillows, Jack slides a hand into the dark hair, the other sliding across Mark's thin shirt.

Mark pulls his mouth away, needing to finish the conversation before he forgets entirely. Jack looks up at him, his ocean blue eyes shining. And Mark realizes that he hasn't taken the time to really appreciate how absolutely breathtaking Jack is. From this astonishingly blue eyes to his pink dusted lips to his porcelain skin to his curvy hips. From head to toe, Jack is utterly magnificent.

"When we get to the airport, this is over," Mark whispers, hating how much the words sting as they fall from his lips. "We're done until both of us decide otherwise, okay?"

"Okay," Jack breathes, a terrible pain settling in his chest. "But, right now, we can be together?"

Mark nods. "I can't let you go just yet."

Jack pulls the American back down, pressing their lips together in desperate passion. His hands cart through Mark's hair, never quite able to get over how soft it is. Mark chuckles lightly, his own fingers finding their way into green locks.

Jack takes the chance to run kisses along Mark's jawline, absolutely obsessed with how nice it feels to have a strong, stubbled jaw beneath his lips. Mark releases a soft moan, his hands drifting down to rest on Jack's hips. He's going to miss how snuggly they fit into his hands, how nice they look in any pair of pants.

Jack wraps his legs around Mark's waist, his arms around his chest, returning to kiss his lips desperately. The American reciprocates with every bit of passion, love. He tries not to image what it will feel like to watch Jack leave, to have to go home alone.

Jack wants to go fast: to strip Mark down and pull him close and go out in a blaze of fiery passion. But he always want to go slow: to kiss him softly and explore his skin and fit gently together. He's terrified he won't have enough time for everything he wants to- needs to- feel before they break apart, but he just can't make up his mind.

Jack pulls way for air, panting gently. He gives Mark little kisses between breathes, heart fluttering at the small smile on the American's lips.

"I love you, Jack," Mark whispers, fingers rubbing circles into the Irishman's shoulders.

Jack pauses for a second, his throat feeling tight. He doesn't realize he is crying until Mark's thumb is on his cheek, gently wiping away his tears.

"I can't do this," Jack whimpers, wet eyes closing as tears trickle from the corners.

Mark shushes him softly, moving to roll off the Irishman, afraid he is making it worse by hovering over him. But, Jack grabs his biceps, tightening his knees around Mark's narrow waist.

"I can't leave you," Jack continues, voice wet and rough. "I love you so much. I want to be with you so bad."

"Oh, Jack," Mark coos, running his fingers through the soft, green hair. "I know, baby. I know. I want to be with you too. God, I love you."

"You'll wait for me?" Jack asks, chest shuttering with choked breathes. "You'll wait for me to come back? I promise I'll come back. B-but you gotta wait for me."

"Of course, baby," Mark promises, breathing deeply to keep from crying himself. "I'll wait for you forever. I love you more than anything in this world, Jack."

"I love you, Mark," Jack breathes.

He pulls the American back down so they can melt together. It hurts terribly: twists a dagger in his heart. But it calms his mind, relaxes his muscles, keeps his bones from aching. And his heart will hurt worse tomorrow, when both men will disappear in the crowd of the airport.