You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Peace

"I can't believe you did that to me," Jack huffs, storming into the bathroom. Mark is at the sink, washing his hands. The small bathroom only has three stalls, all empty, and a matching number of sinks.

"Did what?" Mark asks, innocently.

"Don't play dumb," Jack grumbles, crossing his arms. "I thought you were going to tell everyone about what happened! Why in the world would you think that was okay?"

"Well, you see Jack," Mark begins, focusing on his hands in the soapy water. "You are a bad liar, and I needed a way to get Molly on stage. Because let's not forget that Wade did propose to her."

"You didn't have to do it like that," Jack seethes, spitting acid.

"You know, Jack, this was only one of the most important moments of Wade's life," Mark snaps, letting anger trickle into his voice as he scrubs his palms in the sink. "I was just trying to be a good friend to him. I think being a good friend is something you've forgotten."

"I have not-"

"Just forget it," Mark mutters, turning off the water. "It doesn't matter anyway. Whatever is happening between us doesn't have effect our other friends. They aren't getting dragged into this mess."

Jack swallows hard, his confidence fading. Of all the things Mark is known for, giving up is not one. Jack must admit, then, that he hasn't thought much of Wade, of how important having Molly on stage was. He hasn't thought of much past his own embarrassment. Did he even congratulated Wade? He drops his arms, cramming his hands into his pockets with a sigh.

"I guess I didn't think of it like that," Jack admits, stubbing the toe of his shoe into the tile.

Mark pulls a few paper towels from the dispenser, drying his hands haphazardly, before he tosses them into the trash can, turning back to his friend. He leans on the sink a bit, releasing a breath.

"Jack, I promise I will never tell anyone about what happened," Mark says, voice soft and sincere. "Even if we aren't friends, even if you hate me, I will never tell another soul about anything that happened between us. I... well, never mind."

Though Jack's core feels rotten, he glances up at Mark, "What did you want to say?"

"Well, I... I thought you would already know that," Mark admits. "Come on, Jack. You know me. I know how important it is that this stays quiet. I'm not the kind of person to hold stuff over your head. Don't, I mean, don't you think so? I would've figured you've know me long enough for it to go without saying."

"You're right," Jack agrees, feeling terribly guilty. "I'm sorry. I just..."

He doesn't realize he is crying until tears fall onto the floor below. Only when drops speckle the ugly tile does he notice they are coming from his own itchy eyes. He takes a shaky breath, using the heels of his hands to rub the tears away, head still bent to hide his face.

Mark slowly makes his way over to Jack, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Despite his resolve to stay away from the American, Jack leans into the touch, allowing himself to be gathered into the other's arms. Pressed into the raven's chest, he drops salty tears onto his shirt, guilt jabbing at his scarred heart.

"I'm sorry," Jack apologizes, voice weak but clear. "I've been a bad friend. I'm so sorry. About everything. This is all my fault. I'm so sorry, Mark."

Mark gives a weak chuckle, squeezing the Irishman against his chest. "It's okay, Jack. We both made mistakes. We both got scarred. And that's okay. It's all okay."

"It's not okay. I haven't been thinking about anyone but myself," Jack admits. His tears have stopped, though he still feels the shutters of sadness through his bones. "That phone call this morning really messed with me. I've just been so scarred. What was the about anyway?"

"Amy was just packing her stuff," Mark sighs. "She couldn't find something and was basically having a breakdown over it. She just wants to get out of there as quick as possible."

"But I though you guys were working stuff out?" Jack asks.

Jack can feel himself falling back into Mark. Held so nicely in his arms, he is surrounded by his heat, the scent of his cologne. The Irishman can't deny that he craves the touches, even when he tries to pull himself away. They are magnets, desperately trying to come together despite any force trying to keep them apart.

Jack lays his cheek against Mark's chest, allowing himself to fall deeper. He calms at the feeling of the other's breath, at the thump of his heart. Mark is more than happy to accept, holder Jack tighter.

"Honestly, we tried," Mark explains, an edge of sadness. "But, it's just not going to happen. It was getting better, honestly, when we were living together as friends. But we just can't be around each other anymore. It's too hard. It hurts too much."

"I'm sorry, Mark," Jack offers, sincerely. He wraps his arms around Mark's waist, holding him tightly. "You should have told me."

"I didn't want to make it a big deal," the raven shrugs. "Especially since you and Signe were working things out. I didn't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

Jack is quite for a long moment, breathing deeply through his nose to surround himself with Mark's scent. After a moment, he gives a long sigh, shaking his head.

"Everything's a mess," Jack mutters. "Everything's a big mess, and I don't know what to do."

"Me neither."

"I guess we'll have to figure it out," Jack decides, pulling away from the embrace. "When the convention is over."

Jack keeps his hands on Mark's hips, pushing forward to press a firm kiss onto the other's lips. Mark reciprocates immediately, trying to keep himself under control as their lips slide together. The Irishman has to pull away when he notices his hands creeping up Mark's back, slipping across smooth muscle to find the soft, black hair.

Mark drops his lips to the Irishman's jaw, gracing across his facial hair. Jack tries to keep his mind clear, prevent his knees from going weak and falling completely. Yet, he is leaning into the kissing, his mind growing hazier by the second.

"We're g-going to be late... for the, uhm, the meet and greet," Jack finally remember, finding such difficulty piecing together a coherent thought.

Mark turns Jack's chin enough to catch his lips a final time, pulling away before the Irishman is satisfied. He gives the pouting man a small peck on the cheek, intertwining their fingers before leading them both out. With a final squeeze, Mark pushes open the bathroom door, releasing Jack's hand and stepping back into reality.