Just the Little Things

A bunch of Septiplier one-shots. Pointless fluff, cause I can :)

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1. It's Been a Long Day

A/N: Link to original series: http://archiveofourown.org/series/363017

~~~

Mark opened the door of his apartment tiredly, the keys fumbling in his grip. He was way, way too tired for this shit. Seriously.

He managed to get the door open and walked like a zombie into the apartment, shutting the door loudly behind him and slipping his shoes off.

“Mark?” came his favourite Irish accent, making him smile.

“Yeah,” he called back with a yawn. He made his way to the lounge, barely able to keep his eyes open. When he got there, he saw Jack sitting on the couch, smiling at him. A movie was quietly playing on the TV, and Mark smiled gently at the scene.

He walked over and all but fell down on the couch into Jack’s open arms. He positioned himself so that he was lying on his back with his head in Jack’s lap.

“Hard day at work?” Jack asked softly, starting to twist his fingers gently into Mark’s hair. It felt nice, and Mark melted into the soft touch.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I was running around like a mad thing, barely got a break.”

Jack chuckled. “You certainly sound tired.”

Mark groaned, and took his glasses off, rubbing his face. Jack gently took the glasses from his grip and set them down on the arm of the couch, before resuming stroking Mark’s hair, the movie forgotten.

“You’re so lucky,” Mark mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. “Working from home must be good.”

“It is,” Jack hummed. “And I know another reason why I’m the damned luckiest Irishman in the world.”

Mark took his hands away from his face and looked up at his boyfriend, whose face was slightly blurred. “And what’s that?” he asked.

Jack smiled, and leant down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, and finally his lips. Mark smiled against the gentle, loving kiss and reached up to cup Jack’s cheek. When he pulled away, Jack mumbled, “Because I get to have you come home to me.”

Mark smiled.

And he fell asleep like that, with Jack still stroking Mark’s hair. Forget being Irish, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

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