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Jack clutched at his sides as he laughed and laughed, sprawled out weirdly on the tile of the kitchen.
"Jesus Christ," he finally breathed after the laughs had subsided. He glanced up, Mark grinning like an idiot with frosting smeared all over his face. For a moment Jack watched Mark and in turn Mark's smile faded a little. Maybe it was something in Jack's eyes that made Mark look like that. Something he didn't need to see. Without warning, Jack reached out and planted his hand square in the middle of Mark's face and smeared more frosting all over him.
It did the trick, Mark laughing and sputtering, forgetting about the flash of love sick that had appeared on his friend's face.
Jack was not a drinker, but it was an alright thing to do now and again. Especially when Mark was offering drinks to everyone. Hell, it didn't matter that he was paying, he just wanted to spend time with the man. It was good to go out and act like normal adults anyway, away from their YouTube channels and fan bases.
Of course one drink turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, he'd had a bit too much. Bob had commented on how much he'd had and how quickly, and even Jack wasn't sure what made him want to consume so much. He thought if he were sober he might be concerned but instead he hiccuped and insisted he was fine, Bob trying to shush him.
Mark knew better of course, and after a little coaxing led Jack to his relatively new apartment in close proximity to Mark's home.
Jack huffed and wandered toward his room once they were in, listening to Mark shuffling behind him in the small kitchen. Without thought, he produced an extra t-shirt after shedding his own and shuffled back out into the living room. Without a word, Mark held out a glass of water and some aspirin, Jack trading them for the new shirt. Mark stared at the worn fabric, soft from use and slightly faded. In an instant Mark's shirt was off, turning to say something to Jack, but stopping short. He'd already disappeared into his room.
The man didn't think anything of it.
Jack pressed a hand to the spot over his heart, the coolness of his palm from the glass sending goosebumps sprawling over his bare chest. Stop it, he chided himself, wobbly from alcohol and face still very flushed. Arm's length, Jack. That's all.
Forgetting to take the aspirin or even a drink of the water, he fell into bed with a huff.
"D'you ever think the ship will die down?"
Jack looked over, eyes flicking back and forth across the other's body. Spread out by Mark's pool on plastic chairs, watching Matt and Ryan goofing off while they each sipped at a margarita. He looked back at his own drink, not sure why he even bothered with this. He hated tequila.
"Maybe some day."
"Mm...maybe some day." The Irishman saw Mark shrug out of the corner of his eye, bringing his glass to take another gulp of the cool liquid. Jack mirrored the motion, keeping his expression neutral as he swallowed his mouth full. Absently he chewed on a piece of ice that had found it's way into his mouth, eyes trained forward but not focused.
"I mean...it's fun y'know?" Mark began again. "I just...it gets to be a little too much sometimes though." He looked at Jack then, Jack looking back. He understood how that could be for Mark, being accused of a sexuality he was not, being harassed to get with Jack, the degrading comments. It bothered Jack too, but for entirely different reasons.
Arm's length Jack.
"People will say what they say, can't be helped sometimes," he replied, unsure if the answer was too vague. Mark nodded however, before he smiled and Jack had to stop himself from smiling back in the way that he wasn't supposed to. Silently, Mark shifted back to watching his friends splashing around, Jack too looking back out to the pool as Chica bounded toward the water.
Jack hardly minded what was happening in front of his face as he took another drink mechanically, mind floating away where being arm's length didn't feel like worlds apart, where he didn't need to be arm's length period. It was all he could do to keep himself in check. It's not like he would even know what to do with him, he reasoned absently as Chica climbed back out then instantly turned and jumped onto Matt. It's better this way.
He at least had Mark at all. Even if he seemed like he was miles away, it was better than nothing.