ONESHOTS - Markicest, Darkstache, & More

Mr. Edwards (The Interview) - Markicest

I reference Fifty Shades of Grey all the time but I've never written an actual AU of it 😂 Well, here it is...

PART 1 of 2

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"Shit! I should've left ten minutes ago!" Mark cried.

Wilford stirred on the couch and groaned, clutching the ice pack over his head. His roommate and best friend, Mark, rushed around the apartment, rummaging through clothes and junk.

"I gave you the recorder, right?" slurred Wilford, pointing aimlessly.

Mark ran his hands through his hair and nodded, dashing into the kitchen. "Yeah!" he called out.

"And you have all the questions?" he shouted.

"Yes, yes," said Mark, running back into the living room. He stuffed everything into a briefcase and ran for the door.

"Hey, now!" yelled Wilford, waving a hand. "You forgot something, bully."

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the smile on his face. "I swear, if I'm late..." he chuckled, striding over to Wilford.

He knelt by the couch and gave Wilford a noogie, skewing his hair everywhere. It was something they always did before they would go—a little gesture like a goodbye kiss.

Wilford giggled, and then he started hacking on coughs. Mark shot back and laughed.

"Cover your mouth!" he shouted, throwing a box of Kleenex at him. The box thunked against Wil's head, and he grabbed a handful and blew his nose.

"I'll make you sick, too," he crooned.

"Okay, okay," said Mark, patting Wil's leg under thick blankets. "I have to go."

"Wait!" Wilford whined. "Chicken noodle soup."

He made grabby hands, and Mark sighed with a smile, shaking his head.

"Fine, fine," he said. He jogged into the kitchen and readied a bowl as quickly as he could. When he heated it up, he set it on the table by the couch.

"I really have to go now," said Mark. "You're the one who said this was a big deal, anyway. Remember?"

Wilford groaned, and he pulled the bowl towards him, wincing at the heat. "Yeah, yeahhh, I know. I can't help that I'm sick." He smiled at Mark. "Thanks for covering for me, by the way. I still can't believe I landed an interview with Dark Edwards."

He fluttered his lashes like a lovesick puppy, and Mark scoffed.

"I'll tell you how it goes," he said, flinging open the door. "Stay out of trouble!"

"No promises!" Wilford laughed.

* * *

The drive to Edwards Enterprises was hectic, to say the least.

Mark had sped on the highway, dipping in and out of lanes; trying to make up for the time he spent taking care of Wilford. Cars honked and soared by in a roaring cacophony.

God, thought Mark, the closer he came to his destination. Why of all times did Wilford have to be sick?

Mark was just an English major at the University; Wilford was the one doing Journalism. He had the expertise with interviews, with questions, with people in general. The thought of talking to a very potentially-stuck-up billionaire—billionaire—had him squirming in his seat.