Chapter Text
Jack McLoughin was reclining on his sofa and scrolling through Twitter on his phone, heavy metal music blaring out of the radio behind him. The weather outside was pleasantly warm, and he’d opened a few of the windows to let in a nice breeze. It was a nice, quiet day where he didn’t have too much to do or too many things to worry about.
The front door opened and shut. “Babe!” Mark called out from the kitchen. “Mail’s here!”
Jack smiled. “Did I get anything?” Ever since he and Mark had opened a P.O. box together, they’d received a lot of letters and fan art (sometimes lewd) congratulating them on their relationship.
“Oh you got something, all right,” Mark answered mischievously. Perplexed, Jack stood up and walked into the kitchen where a pile of letters and small packages were spread over the table.
Mark was giggling, which was never a good sign. He was holding an impressively large, dark red package. Jack laughed nervously. “What is it…?” he asked.
“Sorry, I already opened it,” Mark confessed, handing over the box. “But in my defense, I didn’t know who it was for.”
Jack rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like “nosy bastard” while he looked at the front of the box. It gave no clues as to what was inside, but the red color and glossy laminated edges told him it was probably from a corporation rather than a fan.
“Is this a sponsorship or somethin’?” he asked, sitting down to open it.
“Something like that,” Mark replied, his devious grin growing wider.
Jack frowned as he removed the lid. He didn’t remember agreeing to endorse anything recently. Maybe Mark had done so on both of their behalves?
Inside was another, slightly smaller box. On top there was a note.
“‘Dear Sean “Jack” McLoughin, aka, Jacksepticeye,’” he read aloud. He glanced at Mark, who nodded for him to keep going while giggling quietly. “‘Congratulations! You are our first let’s-player to help us on our charity mission. As a man who cares deeply about the world around him, and an Irishman, we hope that you will consider this an honor.’ An Irishman?”
“Keep reading, babe, it’ll make sense,” Mark urged with barely constrained laughter.
“Okay….‘We have a very exciting day in store for you, because you will be our first participant in the Lucky Charms Challenges. (You may now understand why you were our first choice—)’ oh Jesus Christ!”
Mark couldn’t take it anymore; he burst into a fit of laughter that bent him over the table. Jack had his head tipped back and smiling. “Racist bastards!” he chortled.
“Yer darn tootin’, laddy!” Mark crowed in a terrible impersonation of Jack’s accent. “Damn racist bastards tryin’ ter ste-yal yer potta—SHIT!” He broke off laughing as Jack jumped up and shoved him into the counter behind him.
Jack held up the letter and kept reading, one hand still gripping Mark’s shoulder. “‘(You may now understand why you were our first choice.) The Lucky Charms Challenges are designed to “help” some of the world’s most beloved lets-players conquer their worst fears. The events will be filmed and posted to the Lucky Charms’ YouTube page, as well as the contestant’s. To explain the events without givin’ too much away: it will be your job to complete an endurance challenge. For every minute you endure what we have planned for you, Lucky Charms will donate ten dollars to the charity of your choice. Don’t worry, the challenge will be completely safe.’ Yeah, right.
“‘Please email us if you’re willing to participate. On July 14th, come to the address printed below, and bring the items we sent in this package. Feel free to bring Mark with you; he may also participate if he wishes to, but we have a challenge designed for him as well at a later date. Have a lucky day!’” Below was the Lucky Charms logo, a signature from the CEO of the company, and the address where Jack was supposed to go.
He looked at Mark skeptically. “What else is in here?” Mark shrugged.
Cautiously, Jack set aside the letter and opened the bottom of the box. He felt Mark’s hand on the side of his waist as he peered in to look.
Inside was a personalized box of Lucky Charms with “Jacksepticeye” written across the top and Jack standing opposite the leprechaun, wearing a Photoshopped green top hat and waving an Irish flag. Mark full-on snorted with laughter and folded in on himself while Jack swatted him in the back of the head.
Also inside the box was a bowl and spoon with septic eyes on them and—most confusingly—a crash helmet with a septic eye on the side. Jack suddenly grew very suspicious of the challenge they had planned for him.
“Uh…babe?” he queried. With difficulty, the other man rose from his spot on the floor, hiccupping with laughter. “What the hell is this?”
Mark stared at the helmet with confusion. “I dunno, dude, but it looks cool as hell!” He took it and slipped it onto his own head. “How do I look?” he asked, flexing his arms.
Jack laughed. “Like the rejected member of Daft Punk.” He looked back at the letter and furrowed his brow. “It says I have to ‘confront my worst fear’…they’re not gonna put me in danger are they?”
“I don’t think so,” Mark replied, his voice muffled by the helmet. “It said they promise it’ll be completely safe, and besides, it’s from a company. If you got hurt doing whatever it is, they know I’d sue their asses, not to mention crack the CEO’s skull like an egg.”
Jack grinned stupidly at Mark’s protective bravado. “Yeah…well, it is for charity. I’ll email them and see what they have to say.”
“Can I make a video with this helmet on?” Mark asked while Jack left the kitchen.
“Ha ha, no way, it’s mine!” He waved the letter in Mark’s face. “It says here you’ll get to do your challenge soon. Wait your turn.”
Mark took the helmet off, his lower lip poking out exaggeratedly. “You’re no fun.”
Jack pushed his lip in with his thumb and kissed him, pressing deeply into him to catch Mark off guard. It worked; Jack walked out without a word, leaving his boyfriend stunned and leaning heavily on the kitchen counter.
* * *
Later that day, Jack emailed Lucky Charms back agreeing to the challenge and made a video (in which he wore the helmet) explaining that he was going to be part of some kind of mystery event and that more details were coming. (Mark made a cameo at the end, in which he snuck up behind Jack and snatched the helmet off his head and put it on his own. He then sat down next to him with his arm slung around his shoulders, doing stupid impersonations of Jack until the camera went off.)
That night, Jack laid in his bed while Mark slept soundly next to him, drumming his fingers on the coverlet anxiously. The letter had said Jack would be confronting his biggest fear, and it was an “endurance challenge”, whatever that meant.
It better not have meant what Jack thought it meant.