Welcoming Committee - Markson

quarante cinq - F

"You didn't have to sleep on the couch, you know."

Jackson did his best not to stare, but he found himself sneaking glances at Mark. What was he thinking, walking up to Jackson, still fresh from sleep, with his messy hair, and his eyes drooping with drowsiness? Was he trying to torture Jackson?

If so, it was working. "I'm just really sorry, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable again."

"I'm not," Mark paused, and Jackson's chest swelled with guilt, "well, like I said, you don't have to sleep on the couch. I will."

"No, this is your house, I'm not stealing your bed. It's not a big deal, it's only a few more days."

"Exactly, it's my house, I'm the boss. And 5 days isn't a few. I don't want you to get back cramps and not be able to come see the city. You came for a reason."

Yeah, and that reason was Mark, but Jackson wasn't going to say that. "No, I'll sleep in the bathtub if you refuse to sleep in the bed. I'll be fine."

"Fine, fine," Mark snapped, "if you promise not to touch me, and I promise the same, then I guess we can go back to sharing." Mark knew it was a long shot, as he was aware of his habit of cuddling in his sleep, but he didn't want Jackson to suffer through another night on the couch.

Jackson looked up, hopeful, and, seeing that Mark was serious, gave him a slight smile. "I promise. I'm really truly sorry about what I did, I must have been drunk, I wish I could say that I was, because it was uncalled for and it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry-"

"I get it, it's okay. Let's just forget it happened."

But there was no way that Jackson could forget that; to him, it was the best moment of his life. He was haunted by the memory of Mark's lips, and he loved every second of it. 

The least Jackson could do was pretend for Mark, "sure."