You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for Us

Jack is the first to step into the blinding light. The audience roars at the first glimpse of his green hair, whoever was speaking unceremoniously interrupted. The crowd grows impossibly louder when Mark steps onstage.

The plush chairs are arranged in a semi circle, pushes a bit close due to the crew adding one at the last minute. The ones left open are at the end, thankfully side by side. Jack leads Mark to them, grip his hand tightly and smiling at the fans. They must have noticed their interlocked fingers by now, but the roar of their arrival is impossible to distinguish from the screams of their hand holding.

"Well, look who decided to show up!" Dan comments, smiling broadly, one of half a dozen notable faces onstage.

Jack sits farthest from the center, allowing Mark to drop beside him without breaking their contact. The lights keep Jack from seeing faces in the crowd, from reading any expression, but he isn't quite sure if this is such a good thing. Mark rubs small circles into the back of Jack's hand with his thumb, smiling softly at his Irish boyfriend.

"We were just doing a short Q&A while waiting for you two," Dan continues.

Jack squints out to the crowd, his eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light. He sees the faintest outline of a person standing in the aisle, a standing microphone must be in front of them.

Mark can only watch his lover, the harsh light shining beautifully from his pale skin. His heart races at the inevitable questions, but he's comforted by the heat of his companion. It forces him to squeeze Jack's hand tighter, to cherish his company twice over.

"Can I ask my question?" a voice asks, presumably coming from a girl at the microphone.

"Of course!" Dan chirps. "Last one before we move on."

Jack can almost make out her face at this point, her shape coming into focus. The fingers of his free hand drum against his knee because he can see her looking at him and Mark. By the tilt of her head, she may actually be looking between them, to their interlocked fingers.

"Jack, are you and Mark dating?"

Jack looks to Mark, unsure of what to say. He doesn't know if a simple yes is enough. He's never been good with explaining himself. Maybe we should have waited Jack thinks before shaking away the thought, giving Mark's hand a firm squeeze. He refuses to postpone his love anymore.

Mark smiles at his boyfriend, wanting so badly to lean over and kiss the terrified look straight off his face. The audience is nearly silent as they wait for an answer, as if their hands didn't say it all.

"Yeah, we are," Jack offers lamely.

There's an audible gasp from the crowd before it erupts into chatter. It's impossible to distinguish one conversation from the next, excited comments running into grumbled concerns. Mark silence them with the raise of his hand, pulling his gaze away from Jack for the first time on stage.

"Obviously, you guys probably have a lot of questions," Mark replies to the chaos. "All I can say is Jack and I are together and happy. I'd like you to respect our privacy beyond that. We'll tell you more when we're ready."

"Are you gonna get married?!" a voice screams from the crowd.

Jack chuckles, a light blush crawling up his neck. "I hope so. Some day, that is."

The crowd coos. Jack smiles brightly, the support easing his nerves. He turns to Mark, leaning over his chair to give him a kiss on the cheek. Mark smiles as the crowd sends out a collective awe.

Dan redirect the panel to their next activity, in an effort to spare the two men from an onslaught of questions. Jack is making an effort to listen, watching as Dan explains a game they will be playing. However, he can't help but get distracted by Mark's dark eyes on him, scanning his face as if the raven is afraid he may forget a single detail.

Jack turns his mic away from his mouth, keeping his hand over it to block the sound of his voice. "Can you at least pretend to listen?" he teases, breaking his attention from the Brit.

Mark twists his own mic away from his lips, smirking. "Not a chance in the world. You're too beautiful. They should've separated us because now all I want to do is kiss you."

"No one's stopping you," Jack mentions.

Mark leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the Irishman's lips. Their mouths slide together, a bit of restrain because even though they are absolutely lost in each other, they do still have a shred of decency. When their lips drift apart, they press their forehead together, breath mixing.

"Think we're going to make it?" Jack asks, all too serious. He's never felt anything like this: not with Signe, not in the hotel, nowhere. This type of pure, fiery, desperate love that hold his heart in a warm embrace. It's the love that could build, blossom, grow. But it could also destroy.

"I'd like to think so," Mark whispers, sliding his thumb against Jack's bottom lip. "I think this pain in my chest is the good kind. The kind that means I love you so much nothing could get between us."

"Again with the chest pains?" Jack chuckles. "No bad pains though, okay? I want you to be here for a long time."

"And!" Dan nearly screams, pulling the two men apart with a start. "If our two lovebirds would join us here on stage, then we can start."

"Sorry!" Jack and Mark mutter at the same time, pulling their mics back into place.

"First they delay my panel," Dan whines dramatically, just to make them feel guilty, "and then they hijack my show with their love. It's a hard world out there, ladies and gentleman."

"We'll pay attention," Jack assures.

Jack takes Mark's hand as Dan quickly explains the rules again. Jack doesn't know what the future holds for them, if they came out for only a week long fling, but he thinks they'll make it. He doesn't want to jinx it, or get too optimistic, but the warming feeling spreading across his skin all thanks to the grip Mark has on his hand is promise enough for him. There's only one concern floating in the back of his mind, though a silly one at that.

Seán Fischbach or Mark McLoughlin?