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The package comes early that morning, and Mark is so groggy that the sudden ringing of the doorbell nearly makes him spit out the mouthful of coffee he’s just taken. The coffee still in his mug sloshes, dangerously close to spilling over, and Mark mentally wills it to stay put so that wiping coffee off of his burnt thighs won’t be the first thing he’ll have to do today.
He waits until the delivery man leaves the doorstep, his departure signaled by the sound of the UPS truck starting up with a loud groan, before swallowing his mouthful of coffee and padding over to the door. He somehow manages to pick up the package without dropping his coffee mug, then maneuvers the package, the mug, and himself into the warmth of Ethan’s house.
He doesn’t live with Ethan, obviously; that fact had been proven just fifteen minutes ago, when he’d been unable to locate where Ethan keeps his sugar packets, and had therefore been forced to take his coffee blacker than he likes it, but at least it’s waking him up. He’d spent the night because of Ethan’s regression the evening before, after a stressful filming session that had threatened to be too overwhelming. Mark hadn’t been able to leave him - not when he’d changed into his special dinosaur pajamas and picked out a book for Mark to read out to him, a pacifier in his mouth and his beloved blue blanket clutched in his hand, and eventually he’d fallen asleep on the couch after putting his friend to bed.
He sets the coffee mug aside to peer blearily at the information on the package, then looks up in the direction of the stairs as he hears footsteps descending. Ethan is there on the bottom of the stairs, still in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing at his eyes. His hair is sticking up everywhere in an insane bedhead, and Mark watches as he nearly stumbles forward a bit, looking slightly confused when he spots Mark near the door.
“Oh,” he says, voice hoarse from sleep, “I didn’t know you were still here.”
Mark cups his mug between both hands, taking a slow sip, a little concerned at the flash of badly-concealed guilt in Ethan’s expression. “I couldn’t just leave, you know that.”
Ethan looks down, a bit embarrassed. “Look, I know that you like helping when… I regress, and, well, you’re pretty good at it, but I don’t want you to feel obligated to-”
“Let me stop you right there,” Mark says, holding up a hand.
“But-”
“Ethan, I’m helping because I want to, not because you’re forcing me to.” Mark says it matter-of-factly, hoping that the firmness in his voice will be enough to get his point across. “I’m perfectly content with our arrangement, don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan still looks unsure, and then his gaze moves over to the blankets thrown haphazardly over the couch, one of the pillows sporting a dent from Mark’s head laying on it all night. “Did you sleep on the couch? That can’t be good for your back.”
“That part wasn’t great,” Mark admits, but continues before Ethan can protest. “But I’m here for you, man. I don’t mind. Really.”
Ethan eyes him, teeth toying with his bottom lip. “If you’re sure,” he says finally, and Mark feels a stab of satisfaction at having successfully convinced Ethan that he’s not a burden. They’ve had the same conversation multiple times before, Ethan’s self-consciousness becoming just another obstacle Mark has had to try and find his way around. It’s okay, though, as long as his friend knows that he’s there. Ethan walks closer, catching sight of the package still waiting to be opened. “What’s that?”
“Oh, this?” Mark gestures to the package. “Dunno. Did you order something?”
Realization passes through Ethan’s eyes, followed by something not unlike excitement. He doesn’t answer, and Mark watches curiously as Ethan practically rips the package open, fishing out a small plastic bag and holding it out triumphantly.
“Oh,” Mark says as he spots the small object within the bag and suddenly remembers something that Ethan had mentioned in passing a few days ago. “Is that the new pacifier you were talking about?”
“Yeah,” Ethan says, barely hiding the anticipation in his voice as he breaches the bag and pulls out the pacifier. “Wait, you remember that?”
Mark shrugs. “You seemed excited about it.”
Ethan grins at him, clearly pleased, and looks down at the pacifier, angling it so he can see all of it. Mark notices the look in Ethan’s eyes when he looks at the little thing, the underlying happiness that’s so obviously there now that he knows what to look for. He moves in to get a closer look. “What does this one look like?”
It’s blue, a dark blue that reminds Mark of the color Ethan’s hair had been for a while. There’s not much intricate design, and Mark has noticed a recurring theme with Ethan’s pacifiers in the past: the simpler, the better.
Just having Ethan show him the pacifier so openly is a huge improvement from where they’d been just a couple weeks ago, back when Mark was first learning about everything. Ethan had seemed embarrassed, ashamed, even, as he told Mark about his regression, and Mark had seen unshed tears in his eyes when he’d first shown him his collection of pacifiers, stuffed animals, and other kids’ toys up in his bedroom closet. It had been a shock at first, he has to admit, and Mark had spent a long while just trying to comprehend it all, but at the end of it… he really didn’t see the harm in it. Frankly, he’s just glad Ethan has found a coping mechanism that works for him, and whether or not it’s typical or strange or not exactly “normal” doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Mark had honestly not thought it through when he’d made his initial offer to try being a sort of caregiver. Neither of them expected that they would move in together or anything, but nowadays, Mark will get a call or a text from Ethan and he’ll be on his way, ready to be doting and soft for as long as his friend needs it.
That includes moments like this one, with Mark being the recipient of Ethan’s expectant stare. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Mark doesn’t understand the appeal of pacifiers, nor does he expect that he will in the future. But, like he does with a lot of other things, he notices the positive effect they have on Ethan, whether or not he’s regressing, and smiles. “Yeah, it’s nice. You gonna use it next time?”
Ethan, satisfied with that response, nods and sets the pacifier aside. “Yeah, I think I just might.”
***
Mark sends another glance over to Ethan’s side of the table, blinking when his eyes adjust to not staring directly into a screen. They’ve been editing for a while now, and Ethan’s started to fidget a lot more than usual. Mark holds back the urge to ask if he wants his blankie, although it’s quite common for Ethan to slip into littlespace after spending too long at work, just editing and filming and editing some more and re-filming footage that had been accidentally deleted and then editing again - but Mark’s learned that it’s better for Ethan to come to him instead.
He’d noticed Ethan acting fatigued after their second hour into editing, and, since Mark has started to associate tired Ethan with regressed Ethan, the regression has just been waiting to happen. He gets another ten minutes before Ethan lets out a groan and slumps over onto the table, almost curling up into himself as he does so, bringing his knees up to his chest.
Mark decides it’s time to step in. “You alright, Eth?”
“M’ tired,” Ethan mumbles, and yeah, just as Mark expected: his voice has a childish hint to it now, more high-pitched and awkward than usual. Immediately Mark feels himself softening, slipping into what Ethan has told him could be referred to as a “carer-space”, and he leans over to stroke his hand through Ethan’s hair.
“Back in littlespace, yeah?”
Ethan nods, his thumb already traveling to his mouth. “M’ sorry,” he whispers, almost as if he’s just learning to talk. “Can’t help it.”
“It’s fine, buddy,” Mark reassures him, like he’s done so many times before. “You wanna take a break?”
He knows the answer even before Ethan seems to light up, eyes huge and wide as he looks up and nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
Mark can’t help but smile back at him. “I thought so. What about watching TV? Does that sound good?”
“Yeah, yeah yeah!” Ethan sounds more than ecstatic at that suggestion, and the following few minutes basically consist of Mark leading Ethan over to the couch, feeling his friend holding tightly onto his shirt as they walk; Ethan climbs onto the couch and bounces wildly, giggling when Mark scolds him, trying to sound strict but failing completely.
“Alright,” he says, once Ethan is seated in a way that probably won’t lead to more disruptions. “I’ll go get your paci, okay? I’ll be right back.”
He can’t tell if Ethan hears him or not, already entirely enthralled by the things happening on-screen, and so Mark takes that opportunity to take two stairs at a time up to Ethan’s room. He finds the pacifier easily, all together with the rest of Ethan’s collection, and then grabs Ethan’s train-covered pajamas instinctively, tucking them under his arm. For a moment as he’s returning to the living room with the pacifier and pajamas in tow, he wonders if Spongebob Squarepants had been an appropriate show to put on, especially when Ethan usually regresses to such a young age. Spongebob Squarepants is kid-friendly, right? It’s not too bad, right?
His concerns disappear almost instantly once he walks back into the living room and sees the way Ethan is staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at the television screen. He really does look like a little kid, Mark thinks, with the awed, child-like look on his face and his messy hair, and Mark slides onto the couch himself, carefully nudging the pacifier against Ethan’s half-parted lips. Ethan immediately takes it but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge Mark’s presence, until Mark holds up the pajamas.
“You want your jammies, cub?”
Ethan makes grabby hands towards the pajamas and squeals through the pacifier still in his mouth. Mark has to practically wrestle with him to be able to undress and dress him at a reasonable pace, acutely aware that Ethan’s focus is entirely on the TV and not at all on trying to be helpful or cooperative in any way. Mark manages, because he always does, and puts Ethan’s clothes off to the side, before covering them both with the blanket he’d used the night before.
Ethan instantly cuddles up to him, making little noises as he does so, not taking his eyes off of the show that’s on. Mark wraps an arm around him almost protectively, running his hand comfortingly through the wispy, soft strands of Ethan’s hair. Sleepy regressed Ethan is the easiest one to take care of, because all he wants is his paci and cuddles and he’ll be okay, and also because Mark can’t help but feel a warmth in his chest at the sight of his friend reaching out to him and asking for a hug, already fighting sleep. Usually Mark will read him a bedtime story, changing his voice for each of the characters and putting actual emotions into his reading because it makes Ethan giggle wildly, but right now they’re both more tired than usual and so Mark is perfectly content to stay where they are, his cheek resting on the top of Ethan’s head and his arm wrapped around him, holding him close.
Once Ethan’s breathing evens out and his weight gets heavier on Mark’s side, Mark takes a risk and leans forward to grab at the remote, cringing when he feels his arm dislocate itself from the previously comfortable position it had been in. Ethan shifts, and his heart drops.
“... Marky?”
Mark panics, quickly turning off the show and throwing himself back onto the cushions. “I’m here,” he whispers, carding through Ethan’s hair. “I’m here, go back to sleep, buddy.”
Ethan hums tiredly, nuzzling up against Mark’s shoulder. Before long, he’s asleep again, and Mark feels himself getting heavy-lidded as well, unable to focus on anything but how serene Ethan seems right now, his paci in his mouth and his hands clutching both his blankie and Mark’s bicep. Mark lets his eyes fall shut, leaning his cheek against the top of Ethan’s head.
He’s not sure how he would explain this if anyone were to walk in right now, to see them like this, but on the other hand, he doesn’t know if he would even want to. Part of him wants to keep this side of Ethan, the sweet, playful, clumsy side that he’s come to love and deeply care about, to himself. It sounds selfish but he feels a sort of possessiveness and protectiveness over Ethan when he’s regressed, and it makes his heart happy when Ethan reciprocates his affections and comes running to him, with a wide smile on his face, whenever he wants anything. It makes him feel like he’s needed for something, and he’s never been happier to fulfill that need than at times like these.
Now, with Ethan’s head heavy on his shoulder and Mark’s arm back around his friend, the house is quiet. The excited trill of Ethan’s high-pitched toddler voice is missing, as is the messes that so often seem to happen whenever Mark serves him any type of food, but Mark opens one eye and looks down at Ethan’s blissful, youthful face, and decides that there’s nothing he’d rather be doing.
Yeah, he thinks as he pulls Ethan even closer, careful so to not disturb him, this is good.