You're Up Awfully Late {Septiplier}

Just for the Suspicion

Jack gives a quick knock to the door, a hand running through his freshly washed hair. It's a bit early for his taste, evident by the slouch in his posture and the dark shadows beneath his eyes.

Mark answers the door with a smile, hair a freshly floofed, shining black. The American pulls him inside, pressing a kiss to his lips. Jack gives him a peck, pulling away quickly. Mark quirks his eyebrow but decides not to push the matter.

"How was your morning, babe?" Mark asks, waving the other farther inside as he continues preparing for the day.

Jack plops down on the couch, mind elsewhere. "It was fine," he replies simply.

"Something bothering you?"

Jack's tongue fidgets inside his mouth as he considers how to respond, wondering if he should at all. His encounter with Ken has been on his mind all morning. But, Ken is his friend, and Jack's mouth has a hard time forming accusing words.

"I saw Ken last night," Jack finally admits after a long pause.

Mark was packing a backpack, only glancing at the Irishman, but at the confession, he stops, turning to give the other his full attention.

"Last night?" Mark asks slowly.

Jack nods.

"After you left?"

Another nod.

"Did you say anything to him?"

"We talked a bit."

"Does he know...? Ya know, about us?"

"Oh! No. I don't think he suspects anything either. I'm a pretty good lair."

"I beg to differ," Mark teases, flashing Jack a white toothed grin.

Jack rolls his eyes, but the frown never leaves his lips.

Mark frowns as well. "I don't get it. What's the problem? Did he say something to you? Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

"No, of course not," Jack sighs. "I'm going to say something, and you have to tell me that I'm overreacting. And then come up with a better explanation."

"I'll try," Mark offers.

"Okay," Jack begins. "So when I saw Ken, he was going down the stairs. From his room, I guess. And he was in pajamas. And he said he was going down to the vending machine. But he didn't have this wallet or any money or anything on him."

The American nods slowly, a complete lack of understand in his eyes. "So he forgot his wallet and was walking all the way down those stairs for nothing?"

"I doubt it," Jack insists. "I don't want to make assumptions, but I think I saw something on his neck. Like a hickey."

"I mean, he's engaged," Mark tries, still lost to the Irishman's point.

"It wasn't from Mary," Jack states, matter of fact. "It couldn't have been more than a day old."

"Oh!" Mark nearly gasps. "Wait. Ken is cheating on Mary?"

"That's what I need you to talk me out of," Jack whimpers. "You know Ken better than I do. I mean, would he?"

Mark takes a moment to think, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Jack can't help but get distracted, cursing himself for not appreciating his kiss earlier.

"I would be incredibly surprised to find out that Ken had even thought about cheating, let alone actually done it," Mark finally decides. "He's engaged. He has a baby on the way. I mean, he won't. Would he?"

"He probably thinks the same thing about us," Jack mutters, almost to himself.

"I need to see it for myself," Mark insists. "I can't even begin to believe it until I see it for myself."

"What are you supposed to do?" Jack asks, doubtful. "Seduce him?"

"That could work," Mark agrees, just to watch Jack's face screw into a scowl.

Mark gives a light chuckles before letting the sound die. He sets his jaw, rolling an idea around his head. An idea he already knows Jack will hate.

"You know, Jack," Mark beings slowly, sitting beside the Irishman. "Maybe... just maybe, we shouldn't get involved."

"We have to!" Jack insists, frowning already.

"But we don't," Mark counters. "If Ken wanted us to know, he would tell us."

"Aren't you worried?" Jack asks, eyebrows drawn together. "He's our friend."

"Exactly," Mark agrees. "And we should respect his privacy."

"I can't give this up," Jack mutters with the shake of his head. "I can't. You didn't see it. Do... do you even believe me?"

"Yes! Of course yes, Jack. It's just," Mark sighs, "you can't expect honesty from people you aren't honest with. This," Mark motions between himself and Jack, "is something I know you don't want getting out. But if you start asking Ken questions, he's going to ask them back."

"I just don't understand," Jack whines. "Ken and Mary always seemed so happy. How could Ken, of all people? It makes no sense."

"It's easy to fake happiness when you're staring at a camera."

Jack frowns, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his arms on top of them. "It doesn't make any sense, Mark. It just doesn't make any sense."

"Just focus on your panel, okay?" Mark encourages, hand warm hand moving to the Irishman's knee.

"I've barely even thought about my panel," Jack grumbles. "I can't let this go, Mark. I've gotta figure out what's going on."

"Well," the American offers slowly, "Felix does know Ken better than anyone else."

"No way!" Jack snaps, firm. "Felix is the last person who will ever hear about this! That loudmouthed meatball will have this half way across the globe in an hour."

"Then I'm out of ideas," Mark admits.

"I don't know," Jack quiets. "Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Ken, of all people. I can't even believe it myself. Just keep a lookout, Okay?"

"Aye, aye, captain," Mark nods.