cake「 mark 」

25

mark woke up early in the morning, face down in white sheets covered in cartoony images of cacti. frowning as he lifted his head and wincing as the sunbeam temporarily blinded him, he took a moment to wonder where on earth he was. looking around the messy room scattered with drawings in watercolor, dirty clothes and cameras from every era, he slowly came to the realization that he was in sydney's bed.

his eyes widened as the feeling of the cool sheets brushing against his bare skin implied that he was bare from the waist up. a glance downward confirmed this, and even further revealed that he was in nothing but his black boxer briefs.

he sat up as images from last night began to resurface in his fuzzy, aching head.

"i don't remember drinking at the club," he stated absentmindedly in a scratchy morning voice, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. not a second after he ended his sentence, the bedroom door opened. out of instinct, he immediately turned to face the sudden intrusion.

"morning, small penis," she said, smug smirk on her lips even in the early morning. he rolled his eyes.

"must you?"

"i must."

"what time is it?"

"like, noon," she snorted. mark guessed it wasn't as early as he thought. "you slept like a rock."

"why does my head hurt?" he groaned in pain.

"you drank a whole ass bottle of my wine, asshole; that's why," she grumbled in inconsequential annoyance as she sat on the edge of the bed, handing him a glass of water and a headache pill. "any more questions?"

"yeah," he sighed as he adjusts the blankets to cover a bit more of his exposed body and accepted the kind gesture. "what happened last night? after we got here, i mean."

"we didn't do it if that's what you're asking."

"but you slept in the bed?"

"where the fuck else was i gonna sleep?" she deadpanned. "luna would kick my ass if i went in her room."

"i could've taken the couch," mark stated shyly, popping the pill into his mouth and downing the water; his throat was dry and still scratchy when he spoke.

"don't be such a dude," sydney scoffed. "your wasted ass consented to it anyway."

mark was at a loss until something dawned on him. "where are my clothes?"

"i don't know; you tell me," she shrugged. "i played no part in that. you stripped them all off through the night."

mark's cheeks flared up in embarrassment, and she smiled. "get yourself sobered up. there's a shower through that door," she said, pointing to one of the three in the room. "when you're done, i have coffee in the kitchen if you'd like some. make sure to dress warmly, though; it's cold as balls out."

mark just nodded, brain swimming with scraps of memories from the night before that he couldn't for the life of him piece together.

+

the first thing mark noticed after walking into the kitchen with wet hair and a thicker outfit than he had on last night was her coffee mug.

it was a giant thing, probably able to hold a quart of coffee at a time. it was also a dark yellow color, almost mustard colored, with the words "i don't give a hufflefuck" printed on the side in harry potter signature font. as she turned around, she followed his gaze and laughed when she noticed him staring at it. he raised an eyebrow.