Markiplier x Reader: Do I Look Like I Care?

   "Mark, let me use your bedroom, please," you said as you saw him walk out of his recording room.
   "Why, what did you do?" he asked, as you were turned away from him. You did a half circle and showed off your dripping shirt covered in water. "Oh. Yeah, sure."
   "Good. I'm just going to borrow one of your shirts. I'll give it back later." You saw Mark almost protest, but you laughed. "Does it look like I care? Don't worry, I know you have plenty of throw-away shirts you don't care about." You headed up the stairs, taking two steps at a time as Mark simply stood there, a little flabbergasted, but okay with the action nonetheless.
   You stood in his room and carelessly took off the wet shirt, folding it and setting it on the bed. You rummaged through the closer to hopefully find an old tee of Mark's that he didn't mind you wearing. You then heard the door open.
   "Hey, (YN)-" you heard Mark's voice say, but it immediately stopped as you stood up to look at him, bra and all.
   "What?" you asked, turning back to the closet.
   "I was just...going to..." He seemed to trail off as you sighed. "I'm sorry." He covered his eyes, quite guilty with himself. You chuckled.
   "Mark, you're my best friend, I don't care what you see me in," you told him. Mark sighed.
   "Not the point, (YN)."
   "Then what is the point?" God, there were, like, no shirts in the closet.
   "It's...inappropriate?"
   "Says whom? God damn, Mark, where are all your shirts?"
   "That's what I came up here for, to tell you that I didn't have any clean shirts right now." You groaned outwardly and slumped backwards.
   "Why? Haven't you ever heard of doing laundry?" You sighed. "Do you have tank tops? Jackets?"
   "Downstairs." Mark still covered his eyes, and seriously tensed up when you pushed past him. You made your way down the stairs and to where Mark's hoodie was hanging on a hook, quickly throwing it on and zipping it up.
   "Is it safe to look?" Mark asked. You laughed.
   "It's been safe to look the whole time," you told him, to which he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw your chest was no longer flaunted. "Jeez, you're a prude." You pushed past him. "Come on, let's play something. That's what I came over for in the first place anyways." Mark joined you on the couch as you stretched.
   "What do you want to play?" he asked. His eyes wavered.
   "GTA, Left 4 Dead, Mark, keep your eyes on the screen," you said, all in one sentence. Mark lifted his eyes from your chest as he watched you set it up.
   "Left 4 Dead. Farmhouse level." You nodded and chose the game, which was already in the system.
   "Shoot. The. God. Damn. Hunter!" you yelled as Mark failed in dodging.
   "I can't, he keeps jumping everywhere!" Mark argued back, attempting to push the mutation off, his efforts resulting in his death. "Why didn't you save me?"
   "You deserve it for being a crappy shot."
   "Well, sorry for being more of a PC gamer." Mark set down his controller and turned to lay his head in your lap as you beat the level.
   "Well, I'm done with your poor playing skills," you sighed, shutting off the system. "Can we just watch something now?" Mark nodded, changing the input to his Blu-Ray player and going to Netflix.
   "What're we watching?" he asked as the screen loaded.
   "Well... Don't they have Doctor Who on here?" You felt Mark nod. "Let's do that. I've been meaning to watch it over again." He cycled through before choosing a random episode from the fifth series, one with Weeping Angels.
   "So, those guys, they can only move if you're not looking at them?" Mark asked, pointing at the screen as you played with his hair.
   "Yes," you answered.
   "Then what about all the other statues? I mean, do they move?"
   "Just watch." Mark sighed, obviously frustrated with not knowing how the story went.
   "You know, the chick with the curly blonde hair reminds me of you," Mark said after the next part of the two episode storyline began. "Like, she's kind of chill."
   "Yeah, and you're the Doctor," you said. "All over the place, kind of smart, but ridiculously embarrassed and quirky."
   "Jeez, no need to be so blunt," Mark laughed.
   "That's my job, to be blunt."
   After a few more minutes, you saw Mark staring at you.
   "What?" you glanced down. "Why're you staring at me?" Mark sighed.
   "Am I not allowed?"
   "I don't care if you do. But you're missing the end of the episode." Mark smirked.
   "Do I look like I care?" You shrugged, and you definitely saw that look in his eyes that probably said, 'You're pretty,' in big, bold letters.
   "Alright, if you don't watch the rest of this episode, I'm not going to watch any more Walking Dead with you," you finally said.
   "I don't care," Mark replied.
   "How about Friends?"
   "Nope."
   "Parks and Recreation?"
   "Not even close." You sighed. You knew what he was asking for.
   You leaned down and kissed him.
   "Okay, now, if you don't watch the rest of this God damn episode, I swear, I will never do that to you again," you threatened. Mark grinned madly as he turned his attention back to the screen.
   "Deal."