Chapter Text
"Jack."
"Mm..."
The Irishman groaned, turning away from the hand shaking his shoulder.
"Wake up, you piece of shit!" Mark's hand moved to Jack's cheek, jabbing him deliberately with his index finger. Jack groaned louder, his eyes cracking open a fraction.
"Mark, what time is it..." Jack grumbled, looking at the soft moonlight shine in through the window.
"I don't know, but I just woke up and my body clock tells me this is normal."
"You seriously couldn't check your phone or something?"
"The battery's dead." Mark complained. "I dunno where you keep you charger but I'm gonna borrow it later."
Jack's vision was still slightly blurry. He squinted at the wall, where a small clock hung. "Mark, it's three in the morning." he groaned, shutting his eyes again. "Go the fuck to sleep..."
"Why sleep when you've been dead inside for years?" Mark muttered. "I should probably leave you to sleep, though."
"Wow, whatever gave you that idea."
"Shut up. I didn't have to close the curtains for you-"
"What?" Jack's eyes shot open, but they couldn't see anything but darkness. He started to breathe heavily. "Mark, open the curtains."
"Why?"
"Because I told you to! Open them, Mark!" Jack commanded, blinded by panic.
"Alright, alright!"
The gentle light filled the room when Mark hastily yanked open the drapes, making Jack breathe a sigh of relief. He relaxed, leaning back and sinking into the sofa a little.
"Holy shit, Jack. What the hell was that?" Mark fretted. "Are you scared of the dark or something?"
Jack gulped, shuffling awkwardly. "...yeah."
Mark blinked in disbelief, making a strange guttural noise. "Wow. Lame." he muttered.
"You don't think I'm lame." Jack muttered, a tinge of hope behind his words. "C'mon, Mark. Sit down or I'll deck you one."
The American grunted something illegible in a crude failure of an Irish accent as he collapsed onto the sofa. "Is there anything good on Irish TV this early?"
"No." Jack bluntly stated. "Let's just put a movie on or something."
"You know it's three in the morning, right?"
Jack snorted. "Didn't you ever have a sleepover when you were a kid?"
"Of course I did!" Mark retorted. "Fine, let's put a movie on. But it better be something good."
Halfway through the movie, Jack forgot what they were even watching as he rested his legs on Mark's lap and fell passed out on the arm of the sofa.
Jack awoke the next morning feeling bright and happy. Mark was no longer on the sofa when he woke up, but the Irishman heard him fooling around in the kitchen.
"Mark, what're you doing?" Jack questioned, seeing his American friend stare at the plug socket.
"I'm wondering what the fuck kind of socket this is." he replied nonchalantly. "Why's there one at the top and not at the bottom? That's weird, man."
The younger man stared at him silently for a solid four seconds before erupting into uncontrollable laughter.
"What?"
"Oh my god, Mark!" Jack cried, shaking with barely contained laughter. "That's hands down the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say!"
"You sure about that? I get a lot dumber."
"I'm positive," Jack snorted. "But you do get a lot dumber, that's true."
"Go fuck yourself." Mark rolled his eyes.
"Why do you steal all of my catchphrases?" the Irishman muttered. "I'm going to the bathroom."
"Nice announcement." Mark deadpanned. "You have fun with that."
"Whatever."
Jack walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. He waved at himself in the mirror, looking at his own face in it (the dark circles under his eyes were still there and his facial hair hadn't grown any more). Looking away, he stripped off his clothes and headed to the bathtub. He yanked back the shower curtain and yelled loudly.
A big, long-legged spider was crawling up the tiled wall.
"Jack! What-" Mark threw open the door and immediately saw Jack. The Irishman instinctively held a hand over his junk, blood rushing to his face. The American shut his eyes and sighed deeply. "Put your boxers on and tell me what happened."
Jack scrambled to his pile of clothes, hastily putting on his underwear. "Alright, I'm decent."
Mark opened his eyes. "Okay. What the hell was that about?"
"There's a huge spider in the bath."
The blue-haired man stared blankly. "...that's it. A spider. That's all you were yelling about."
"Mark, I'm terrified of spiders! Just get rid of it!"
Sighing again, Mark went to the bathtub and grabbed the spider by the leg, throwing it out of the open window. He shut the window afterwards, climbing out of the bath. "Happy?"
Jack nodded. "..thanks, Mark." he said quietly.
"Jesus Christ, how many things are you scared of?"
Jack said nothing.
"Um... Jack?" Mark waved his hand in front of the Jack's face.
It was Jack's turn to sigh. "I... guess there's something I should probably show you." he uttered, walking past Mark out of the bathroom. His guest followed him to the bedroom, where Jack picked up his phone from his desk and tapped several times on the screen before handing it to Mark. "Here."
Mark took the phone from the Irishman's hand. On the screen was a memo simply titled 'Fears'. He scrolled down, his eyes widening. There were so many- blood, driving, hospitals- the list went on.
"Mark, I'm really sorry if I'm making you feel like an asshole. You probably feel bad now for asking how many things scare me but you shouldn't- it's my fault, really, and I probably just fucked up the atmosphere for the entire week-"
"How many are there?" Mark asked, his voice surprisingly small.
He fell silent, biting his lip and looking away from Mark. "...there's twenty-four."
"That's so many..." Mark read over the list again, breathing heavily and looking up at Jack.
"Mark, I'm so, so sorry you have to put up with me all week, you deserve much better than this. I'm a terrible excuse for-"
"Maybe I can help you."
Jack's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"I want to help you overcome your fears, Jack."
"Mark, I can't be helped." Jack sighed, looking down at his hands. "I'm just-"
The younger man was cut off again as Mark pulled him in for a hug. "It's okay." he breathed.
Jack broke down, wrapping his arms around the American and burying his face into Mark's shoulder. "Mark," he cried, tears falling from his eyes. "Mark, I'm scared of everything."
Mark shut his eyes, almost wanting to cry himself. He held Jack still in his arms, letting the Irishman cry as much as he needed to.
And they both stayed there for a long time.