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Jackson’s piss drunk, is pretty sure that if someone stuck three fingers in front of his face, he’d see twelve. When Jinyoung does, laughing hysterically at Jackson’s dumb stupor, it’s Mark who pulls Jackson away, telling Jinyoung that only he was allowed to mess around with Jackson.
“You need to learn to pace yourself, man,” Mark laughs, arm slung over Jackson’s shoulders. He’s warm and comfy and Jackson’s shameless when he’s sober, but he doesn’t know the meaning of personal space when he’s this far gone. He drapes himself over Mark, to his best friend’s laughter and faked disgust. Jackson’s practically in his lap when he’s found a position comfortable enough to sit in, head burrowing into Mark’s neck.
Mark smells like some generic body spray, too musky but Jackson loves it on Mark. He really just loves anything on Mark.
“You’re my favourite, you know,” Jackson tells him, nodding solemnly, fringe falling into his eyes.
“Of course I am, you loser,” Mark laughs, but the smile he’s giving Jackson is nice. It makes something pleasant flutter in Jackson’s belly and he can’t help the giggle that escapes him, cozying up to Mark, still laughing.
Mark lets him cling for the duration of the night, even lets Jackson take a small nap before he gets Jackson to drink about three glasses of water. With his stomach ready to burst, Jackson tries not to think of the multiple bathroom trips he’ll be taking tonight.
He doesn’t really care though, because Mark’s still next to him. He lets Jackson put his legs in his lap, even takes Jackson’s snapback and puts it on over top of his own. Safekeeping, he’d whispered to Jackson, who’d moaned something unintelligible and rolled over.
When he’s sober enough to remember where he is – Jinyoung’s apartment – Jackson realises that he’s been hogging Mark. There’s a girl perched on the couch end, next to him, while Jackson’s sprawled out on the length of the couch.
“Aw, shit, you let me get this fucking drunk, again?”
“’Ey, I fucking take care of you and you’re gonna blame me, you little shit?” Mark bites, smacking Jackson’s thigh as Jackson works himself up into a sitting position. Mark has his lip caught between his teeth, something that he supposes is meant to look threatening but Mark had the sort of handsome face that looked good even when angry.
Jackson only laughs, reaching to pinch his cheeks, hands swatted away and feet thrown out of Mark’s lap as he gets up. Jackson thinks he’s gonna leave, maybe find an unoccupied corner of the apartment and show that girl he’s been chatting up a good time but instead, Jackson finds himself under attack. Mark doesn’t give him a chance to catch up, Jackson’s hands barely coming up to cover Mark’s onslaught of playful punches. It pulls out Jackson’s most awful sounding laugh, the one that’s too loud and could probably wake the dead.
“Respect your elders, twat,” Mark finishes, one last smack to Jackson’s head.
“You’re like, barely a year older than me,” Jackson retorts, screaming when Mark raises his hand, threatening to smack him again. Jackson pouts, a little out of breath before he glares at Mark. “I want nice Mark back.”
“Nice Mark isn’t real,” Mark tells him, finally getting up off of Jackson. It’s a relief, what with how heavy Mark is. He’s been b-boying more lately, and Jackson shouldn’t be able to tell that he’s put on more muscle but it’s a little hard to miss when Mark wanders around their dorm room in flimsy tank tops. Jackson wonders if Mark is as troubled by Jackson’s half nakedness as Jackson is with Mark’s.
