aintitnifty
In which Jackson asks Mark to help him practice certain close-contact variety games, because if Jackson is going to accidentally kiss any of his fellow members, well... he'd prefer it to be Mark.
----
This is stupid.
The thought comes to Jackson even as he raps his knuckles again the door, two quick knocks, an attempt to be casual.
"Yeah?" The response comes in muffled English.
Jackson nudges the door open and peeks inside. Mark is on his back in bed, phone in hand, the hood of his overlarge sweatshirt tugged over his hair.
Mark fixes him with a wry look, his phone screen casting a dim blue glow across his cheek. "Did you just knock on the door to your own room?"
"I knew you were in here," Jackson says, stepping inside, trying not to fidget. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't sleeping or something."
"I'm always at least half-asleep," Mark says with a small grin. "You know that." He pauses, seeming to realize how uncomfortable Jackson is. "Something wrong?"
Jackson shuffles a bit farther into the room, keeping his hands behind his back, fiddling nervously with the small stack of papers in his hands.
"Nothing's wrong," he says, "I just... I have a bit of a stupid favor to ask."
Mark sits up, his brow furrowing. "What is it?"
Jackson throws a furtive glance over his shoulder into the hallway, then closes the door behind himself and moves over to sit on the bed beside Mark.
This is stupid, his brain informs him again, but Jackson shoves the traitorous voice down; this needs to be done eventually, and Mark is one of the only ones who won't make fun of him for it.
... Probably.
And also, well. If Jackson is going to accidentally kiss any of his fellow members, then he'd prefer it to be Mark.
But that's a secret.
"Okay," Jackson says, "so you know how they keep making us do more and more variety these days?"
"Yeah...?"
"And you know that stupid paper game?"
Mark's mouth starts to quirk up at the corner. "Yeah...?"
Jackson glares at him; they tried the paper game earlier that week, and Jackson lost at least ten papers in the attempt, brushing lips with JB, Jinyoung, and BamBam, who couldn't stop giggling for hours afterwards.
"Well," Jackson continues, scowling at Mark, "if we're going to be doing that on live broadcasts, then I'm going to need to know how to actually do it without constantly embarrassing myself, so—"
"Isn't the whole point of it to embarrass ourselves?" Mark asks.
"Well, sure, but—"
"It's all for the fanservice, right?" Mark is downright beaming now, and Jackson is torn between being irritated and fond. "The more times you accidentally kiss us, the more the fans will—"
Jackson claps a hand over Mark's mouth.
"That," he says, narrowing his eyes even though he can still feel Mark grinning against his palm, "is not what I want to be known for."
Mark hooks his fingers around Jackson's wrist and tugs his hand down. "Fine," he says. "What do you need?"
Jackson fixes Mark with his best puppy eyes and pulls the small sheets of paper out from behind his back.
