You’re A Falling Star

A Mark/Jackson oneshot for Lysandre Aubé

 

“Awe man. Not again…” Mark whined as he tried to do a flip and ended up flat on his back for what felt like the millionth time that day. For some reason, he just couldn’t do… anything really. He woke up as a giant clumsy mess and as the day went on it only seemed to get worse. But he had to keep trying. He had to.

 

“Yo Mark, why haven't you come back to the dorm yet?” Jackson’s voice startled him and he rolled his eyes, covering his hands with his face. Great. What he needed. More humiliation.

 

“Why? WHY!?” His voice was almost shrill with how strained his stress was making him. “Because I haven't been able to actually practice today because I woke up with a body like weird noodle jelly and I can’t stop tripping myself. What is this?! I’ve been cursed.” Shakily getting to his feet, Mark turned his back on his boyfriend, trying again to cover the choreography.

 

“You have not been cursed. I told you not to drink so much last night.” Laughing, Jackson approached him, his demeanor getting him only more annoyed. How dare he find joy in his misfortune. But he knew that Jackson wasn’t trying to be mean. It didn’t make him less annoyed.

 

“I don’t need your lectures, Jackson. I need leg braces or something.” Growling, Mark tried to tackle his choreography again and found himself slipping and landing on his back with a heavy thud. “I need to not be a jiggly wrecking ball of flesh. I need to practice.” Frustrated, he knew he was falling behind everyone else and he’d fall even more behind with how badly his back was going to ache the next day. He hated it.

 

“Fine. FIne. I’ll help you. Come here.” Jackson pulled Mark to him and wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist. Annoyed, Mark smacked at him only to receive a chuckle.

 

“What are you doing?” Mark questioned in a haughty tone, trying to pull away and continue his attempt at practice. “Stop it.”

 

“Holding you up, you flaccid wiener.” Shaking his head, Jackson grinned and kissed Mark’s cheek, refusing to let him go.

 

“Oh shove it, Jackson.” Mark replied, unhappy with his new little pet name. If Jackson wasn’t careful, Mark was going to just kick his whole .

 

“So you don’t want my help?” Jackson let him go and Mark wobbled slightly, falling back into him.

 

“Nonono please help me.” Conceding, Mark knew that accepting Jackson’s help was the only way he was going to get actual practice.

“Much better.” Smiling, Jackson held onto him again, holding him up as Mark focused all his motor skills into his arms and legs.

 

“This is actually more helpful than I thought it would be.” Mark admitted, blushing slightly. No longer having to focus on actually staying upright allowed Mark to complete the moves almost effortlessly. Well, effortlessly for him. He doubted that Jackson would feel the same way.

 

“There we go. See, you’re doing great.” Jackson spoke to him the same way people spoke to puppies you were potty training or something and Mark shot him a glare. Why did he love this man?

 

“Alright. I guess we should call it a night. I probably need to sleep off this bull.” Mark finally decided when he noticed that Jackson was pouring sweat with the effort of essentially doing to choreography for both of them. As annoying as Jackson could be, he still loved the man and wanted to take care of him. “Let's go home.”

 

“Alright. I’ll just wait for you to pop a and get that spine erect again..”

 

“I think you need sleep, too.” Mark mumbled, lightly slapping his shoulder. “Idiot.”

 

“Yeah probably, but at least I’m not a flaily, overcooked spaghetti noodle with hair.” Shrugging, Jackson helped him up with one arm not, walking with him to go home.

 

“I can’t deal with you right now.” Mark rolled his eyes, pulling away from him but still snuggling down beside him.

 

“Fair enough. Let’s get you home, floppy. And if you’re nice, maybe the good fairy will turn you into a real boy, Pinocchio.” Jackson laughed as Mark halfheartedly punched his side. Of course he’d make a no-strings puppet joke. The absolute monster.

 

“Jackson…” Groaning, he laid his head on his shoulder. “Just shut up and carry me.”

 

“Anything you want, you Diva.” Nodding, Jackson scooped him into his arms and Mark stretched, yawning slightly. He settled against his boyfriend’s chest, excited to be going home to sleep. Never again was he going to get blackout drunk and fall asleep wedged between the sink and the toilet in their dorm again. He’d learned his lesson.