Markiplier x Reader: Mini Moves Pt 1

It started in the car.
Mark Fischbach, one of your best friends, was picking you up from your house in Santa Barbara and taking you to his own in Los Angeles. Calmly, the two of you were sitting in the car, and, considering it was a long commute, you asked a friend if you could stay at their house for the night. Obviously, you weren’t staying with Mark because, well, wouldn’t that be a little weird?
“Can we listen to music?” you asked at a stop light.
“Like what?” Mark asked back, clicking at the radio buttons.
“I don’t know. Something awesome.” Mark chuckled and clicked a button once more before a very odd song came on, something slow and soothing. “Did you put on a love song on purpose for this to be very awkward?” you asked, a smile on your face.
“Maybe,” he replied, drawing out the word. You rolled your eyes and pressed for a different station. Eh, some kind of pop music or something. Suddenly, Mark changed the station back.
“Hey, I was listening to that!” you said, mocking sadness as you pressed for your station.
“And I was listening to that!” Mark laughed back. The two of you, for the next ten minutes or so, kept fighting over which station was better, to which you said, “I can’t stand love songs.”
“How can you not like them?” Mark asked.
“Because they’re stupid,” you explained. “They talk about the same thing over and over again.”
“But they’re cool!”
“They are not!”
“Are too!”
“Are not!” Suddenly, the car jerked to a stop and Mark set his hand on your leg in some sort of attempt to keep you from hitting your seatbelt. He had almost missed a stop sign. You giggled as he continued to drive, paying more attention to the road than to you changing the station again.
Except, well, he hadn’t moved his hand from your thigh yet. You looked down at it, then at the radio, then at Mark, then back to the hand. Finally, it moved after a good fifteen seconds. He didn’t seem to notice.
At last, you were at Mark’s house as you carried in your bags.
“I’ll take ‘em,” Mark offered, grabbing your bags without letting you say anything.
“Hey, I got my own stuff!” you laughed out.
“I’m just so manly, though. Look at me.” He flexed jokingly as he did some kind of macho-walk to the door, opening it and holding it open for you.
Jeez, this guy, you thought as you walked inside and sat on the couch, considering Mark would probably refuse to let go of your bags yet.
“Where do I put ‘em?” he asked from another room.
“You could have just put them next to the couch,” you called back. His low chuckle came back as he walked back in the room to set your bags down ungracefully.
“Impressed yet?” he joked, flexing again. You shook your head ‘no’, though, to be fairly honest, he was muscular all around.
But, you know, you meant it in a friendly way.
Late at night after Mark finished his videos, you were somehow still at his house. Your friend hadn’t called, neither did she pick up when you did.
“Son of a bitch,” you cursed as another failed phone call ensued.
“You can still stay here if you want,” Mark reminded you as he stood in the kitchen, eating something loudly.
“But I’ll feel bad.”
“Don’t. We’ll stay up and play games and eat food and stuff.” You rolled your eyes.
“Fine,” you agreed, finally, only because after the second failed call, he kept insisting.
“It’s my turn,” Mark argued at about one in the morning as you tried to play some shooting game on his Xbox.
“One more match,” you said, eyes glued to the screen.
“You said that two matches ago.”
“I lied.”
“I thought you were my friend!” He pushed you playfully and you nudged him back. “Fine, I’m getting more food.” He stood from the couch and went behind it. What you didn’t expect was him sneaking behind you to grab the controller from your hands and playing with his arms round your shoulders.
“God damn it, Mark!” you cursed, laughing. He laughed in response and set his chin on your head, obviously comfortable with the position he was in. You tried to look up at him, but whenever you moved your head he groaned like a child, making you stay where you were. “Let me go,” you mumbled, tired.
“Nope,” Mark said, still cheerful and well-awake.
“But...” You didn’t finish as he chuckled again. You could feel it more than you could hear it, which made you laugh and bob his head up and down. Finally, he stood straight and, expertly, kept playing as he walked round the couch to sit down again.
“Freaking weirdo,” you teased him as he concentrated on the game.
“Uh, don’t you mean ‘freaking awesome weirdo’?” he corrected you.
“No, I mean weirdo.” He shrugged.
“Ah, whatever. I may be a weirdo, but I’m your weirdo.” You laughed, thinking it was a joke, although, in reality, it seemed like he kind of meant it. Did he? Did you?
After another fifteen minutes you were close to passing out. At some point you did and fell asleep with your head on the back on the sofa. Mark didn’t seem to notice until he nudged you and your head fell on his shoulder.
“Are you asleep?” he asked you. You didn’t reply, just sort of nuzzled further into his shoulder. He nudged you again and you fell into his lap, still asleep somehow. “Jeez, now you’re the weirdo.” He set down the controller and tried to pick you up, but you didn’t seem to want to move. He rolled his eyes. Well, there’s a blanket right there, he thought, looking to his left. He grabbed it and threw it on you. He was getting pretty tired then, and dozed off, Xbox still running.
You woke up, thinking you were in bed, but you were on some kind of soft cloth thing. You looked up and then saw legs, following them up to a torso and finally the face of Mark himself, snoring quietly. The Xbox, somehow, turned itself off sometime in the middle of the early morning, or maybe Mark turned it off...
Mark stayed asleep as you sat up straight, rubbing your eyes and pulling the blanket closer to your body. Mark looked kind of cute when he slept, though...
Wait, what?
You sighed and, deciding you were still tired, tried to get back to sleep. Mark moved a little and leaned towards you, putting his head on your shoulder. You mumbled something incoherent to even yourself and closed your eyes.
“Morning,” Mark’s voice came in. You opened your eyes once more.
“Morning,” you replied. You looked at him through the corner of your eye and saw his eyes still closed, head still on your shoulder.
“We fell asleep on the couch,” he said.
“No, really?” you answered with a soft chuckle.
“Really, really.” His deep chuckle came through again, making you laugh, until you both were fighting to catch your breath. You held your stomach and finally stopped laughing, leaning back on the couch with your head tilted back.
“This couch is comfortable,” you said.
“I think my lap is even more comfortable,” Mark replied.
“What about my shoulder?”
“Yeah, that too.” Then the hysterics came again.
“Jesus Christ, if I laugh any more, I’m going to die,” you said as the laughing died down once more.
“Don’t die, please,” he said, pouting dramatically. “People would be sad.”
“Like who?”
“Like the extremely smart, muscular, and handsome man on the couch.” You looked all around the couch.
“What extremely smart, muscular, handsome man?” you joked. “All I see is a weirdo.”
“Two weirdos.”
“I am not a weirdo!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!” You laughed and stared at him, him doing the same thing to you. You both sat in silence for a minute.
“Isn’t this the part where the guy makes out with the girl like in those sappy love songs?” you asked him.
“Maybe,” he smiled, drawing out the word like the first time. He leaned in. You blushed. Faces inches away. So this kind of chick flick moment was actually going to happen?
Yes, it was.
So Mark kissed you, not for very long, but long enough to make you blush a very, very bright red.
“What happened to the make out part?” you asked.
“Mini moves, (YN),” he teased, poking your nose and standing up again to get more food.
Well, that’s just Mark for you.