BoyFriend

»Epilogue«

Much like every evening, the entire household was settling down by seven pm. sharp. The smaller, younger man usually busy prepping some sort of short meal because his fiancé always wanted to get a bit of family time in. They had busy lives, but they still wanted to be part of each other's.

Said smaller was leaned over the kitchen counter, scrolling trough his very active news feed. Still to this day at twenty one, his favourite media was probably Instagram. He posted picture after picture. And the millions of people who kept track of him absolutely adored each one. Especially ones of the youngest of the house. He still often used other sites.

He flinched from surprise when a pair of super familiar arms wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling his stuck out bottom half closer. He scoffed, continuing his scrolling and typing with a beaming grin.

"Mark, what are you doing?"

So called Mark chuckled, resting his forehead on the crook of his shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Sean. Don't be so sour. What's wrong with a little bit of loving on my husband?"

Jack made a laugh of mockery, "Soon-to-be husband. You're not there get. I'm still mad you declined the first time." Mark huffed, groaning. "It was on a stage Jack! The comment section would've went wild." Jack giggled in turn. Back in one of their first panels together at an event, roughly almost a year now, everyone knew they were together. And had been since near grade eleven. As a joke, someone sent out a tweet that Jack had "something important for Mark." Ironically, he actually planned on doing the real thing two months later. Jack was just glad Mark said yes rather than no on the real one.

"Ya culd've been married soona, Maerk. But cha had ta be a cocky sunuvabitch. Didn't'cha?" Jack grinned at Mark's giggling, "No matter what you say, when you use that Irish, it totally has an effect on me." He muttered it into Jack's ear, hands sliding from his waist to the hem of his pant bottoms. Jack wiggled with a groan when he slipped his hands in them. "Mark, you horny bastard, go away!"

Mark had started to practically grind into him, kissing the side of his lover's exposed neck. In turn, he shakily exhaled, placing his phone down. "Mark..." Jack squirmed and moved his hands over Mark's, the older man's hands tantalizingly close to his dick. He continued to plant feather-light kisses across his neck with a chuckle.

"Come on, you loser. You ain't gotta do anything. We could just go back to our room and—" Mark completely backed away from him slowly when loud yelling interrupted. He turned around, eyes wide and frown clear sign of shock. His face then lifted to one of happiness and glee. With an equivalently loud giggle, Mark squatted down and slung his arms out by his sides. "Timmy!"

The screaming child ran directly into Mark's chest, receiving one of those huge bear hugs the older always gave him. The three-year-old--four next month--started giggling. Having turned around to see what was going on, Jack smiled warmly at the two, elbows propped against the counter space.

"You've really gotta stop letting Timothy in the room while you record, Fischbach."

Mark had picked him up and sat him on the kitchen island, fixing his son's brown shirt. "Aw, come on Jack. He's Markiplier's number one fan. You're just mad he prefers me over the Jacksepticeye." Mark kissed the toddler on the forehead, getting a giggle from him. "You're jealous, Fischbach."

Timothy Nathaniel Fischbach. One of the jolliest three-year-olds you'll ever meet. He had eyes just as blue and sparkling bright as Jack's. Surprisingly, you'd think Tim was actually their actual son. He had Mark's dark skin and dark hair. His personality as well. Kind, high spirited, emotional, and kind of loud. Favourite thing he owned was probably his stuffed Septic Sam plush Jack had given him that some fan had sent specifically for him. Had his name sewn on the bottom of it. Timothy is also an influence to one of Mark's semi-famous characters: a box he'd called Tiny Box Tim. Even at twenty two, he was still seven at heart.