You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Moment

At Mark's door, a lump lodged in his throat. Even though the door is open, a nervous tremble runs through his bones, leaving through the tips of his fingers. He gives a knock to the solid wood, sickening anticipation in his gut. Terrified to tell go, unsure how he will feel about everything in the morning, Jack considers bolting before he sees the American.

Mark answers the door, in a loose pair of pajama pants and a tight tank top. His raven hair is a bit of a mess; he must have been tossing in bed. An ease smile slides onto his lips at the sight of Jack, despite everything. The older motions him inside, closing the door softly behind him.

Jack sits down on Mark's crumbled sheets, perched on the edge. Tension in his muscles, he taps his fingers against his knee, looking everywhere but Mark. Only when the American stand in front of him, blocking much else in the room, does Jack focus on his form.

Mark looks stunning, Jack must admit. He doesn't understand how the raven can always look so good, even in the middle of the night. Jack wonders if he should have put pants on, especially considering how cold his bare legs feel.

He pulls his attention back to Mark, losing himself in the waves of messy black, his deep brown eyes, the tanned skin, the easy smile that fits between his cheeks so perfectly. The green haired man wills Mark closer, the desire for contact growing stronger with each passing second.

Mark steps close enough for Jack to reach, allowing the Irishman to stretch forward and snag the front of his shirt. Jack pulls Mark between his knees, sliding a hand behind the American's neck. He pulls the taller down, for their lips to meet.

Mark gives a little chuckle, turning just enough for Jack to only catch the corner of his lips. Jack pulls away, staring up at Mark as confusion swirls in his blue irises. The American places a hand on the other's fuzzy cheek, pressing a quick kiss to Jack's forehead, before detaching from the other man.

"We should talk," Mark decides, leaning against the arm rest of his couch, "before anything happens."

"What's there to talk about?" Jack asks, his nerves returning.

"I don't want to try to figure anything out," Mark promises the younger man. "I just want to know that, when I wake up in the morning, you won't be running out of my bed."

Jack gives him a wide eyed look before realizing, face blushing and giving a nervous chuckle. "Oh, right... I've been doing a lot of that. Sorry."

"I don't mean to call you out or anything," Mark corrects himself, stepping closer to the Irishman. "I just want to make sure that, you know, you won't regret this in the morning. Well, I mean, at least not as much as the last two times."

Jack runs his fingers through his hair, giving a bit of a tug to kickstart his brain. He sighs, "It always just feels... different in the morning. I'm sorry, Mark."

"Hey, don't you apologize," the raven insists. He steps forward, and Jack opens his knees on instinct, allowing Mark to fit snugly between his legs.

"I want to make sure you're okay, Jack," Mark assures, placing a soft hand on the Irishman's wiry facial hair. "I really care about you."

A light blush flashes across Jack's cheeks, though he smiles a bit. Mark's chocolate stare is intense, especially on the Irishman's light, fluttering eyes. Jack puts a nervous hand on each of Mark's hips, easily feeling his familiar form beneath his thin pants.

"I really care about you too," Jack admits, his light blush turning fiery red. He wonders if Mark is saying what he hopes. He wonders if his heart is beating too hard for such an mild declaration.

"Well," Mark begins slowly, easing Jack back. The Irishman falls back into the bed, Mark's solid form hovering above him. "I think that counts for something. At least for now."

Mark presses his lips to Jack, quick and light. It sends a tingle through the Irishman's lips, ignites his desire for more. The younger pulls Mark back down, connecting their lips fully.

Mouths sliding together, tongues tangling between a hot embrace, Jack bends his knee to allow their bodies to slide closer together. Mark chuckles gathering the smaller in his embrace before pulling them farther onto the bed. Jack gasps, grabbing fistfuls of Mark's shirt to keep them together.

Mark pulls them onto the pillows, setting Jack against his chest. Mark holds him snug against his broad chest. Jack relaxes on instinct, wrapping himself around the American. Ear against his heartbeat, Jack feels sleepier than ever.

"Mark?" Jack calls softly, a bit nervous but feeling so brave and warm with Mark wrapped around him.

"Yeah?"

"I love you," Jack admits, turning horribly embarrassed. He hides his face in Mark's shirt, turning an angry red. It's been so long since Jack has said those words: even longer since he has meant them.

The silence that follows may have lasted only a second, but to Jack, it feels like an eternity. His lungs feel tight, his heart painfully squeezed by the hand of anxiety. His eyes feel wet, but he promises himself he won't cry.

"Jack?" Mark calls back, voice soft and deep.

"Y-yeah," Jack stutters, terror rising in his heart.

"I love you too."

"D-do you really mean that?"

"I love you, Sean. I've loved you for so long."

And Jack bursts into tears, salty tears falling onto the American's shirt. Mark smiles lightly, looking down at his precious, beautiful love. Mark's runs his fingers through the soft, green hair, cooing soft words. Jack can do little besides weep and repeat his confession.

"I love you, Mark. God, I love you so much."