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the lights in mark’s basement flickered once before settling into a soft dim, the kind of imperfect glow that made the cheap fairy lights strung along the wall seem brighter than they really were. he was sprawled across the couch, one socked foot tucked under his leg, the other brushing against the carpet, remote in hand. you were curled up next to him, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously between your knees.

“okay,” you said, adjusting the blanket and shooting him a look. “so we’re doing this the right way. chronological order. none of that skipping around nonsense.”

mark smirked, thumb hovering over the remote. “you know that’s controversial, right? there are whole forums that would roast you alive for suggesting chronological order.”

“i can handle angry nerds,” you replied, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. it bounced off his shoulder and landed somewhere on the carpet. “but if i’m going to do this, i want it to make sense. i don’t want some ancient desert hermit popping up halfway through without any explanation.”

“fair.” he chuckled, aiming the remote at the tv. “episode one it is, then. brace yourself. jar jar binks is… something.”

the familiar opening crawl filled the screen with golden text, accompanied by the blaring brass of the iconic theme. you leaned back against the couch, the sound vibrating through the walls, goosebumps prickling along your arms. mark side-eyed you with a grin.

“what?” you asked.

“nothing. you’re just—” he shrugged, his grin widening. “you look like a little kid watching fireworks for the first time.”

you rolled your eyes, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth to hide the smile pulling at your lips. “shut up.”

but you didn’t deny it.

the first hour passed with both of you half-watching, half-commentating. mark leaned forward every so often, pointing out things you might’ve missed—“that’s a lightsaber, by the way, it’s like their… laser sword weapon. super important.” he had a running commentary about how young anakin was, how qui-gon jinn got a raw deal, and how obi-wan’s hair looked like it belonged in a boy band.

you teased him right back. “wow, you’re just full of trivia. did you secretly practice for this? like, read a bunch of star wars for dummies articles before tonight?”

“i’ll have you know,” he said dramatically, hand over his heart, “that my cultural knowledge is entirely organic. no cramming required.”

“uh-huh.” you smirked, tugging the blanket higher over your shoulders. “totally believable.”

when jar jar binks first stumbled on screen, both of you burst into laughter, the kind that made your stomach hurt and popcorn threaten to spill.

“oh my god,” you wheezed. “this is—this is the guy people warned me about?”

“yep.” mark wiped at his eyes. “he only gets worse. but don’t worry, there are lightsaber duels later. that kind of makes up for it.”

by the time the podracing sequence rolled around, your head had somehow found its way onto his shoulder. you hadn’t really noticed when it happened—it was a natural drift, a small shift closer during a quiet moment. mark stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, leaning ever so slightly into you, careful not to move too much or make it obvious. his heart thudded faster than the podracers on screen.

“you’re really into this, huh?” he asked softly.

“yeah.” your voice came out more muffled than you meant it to, your cheek pressed against the fabric of his hoodie. “it’s kind of amazing. like, i get why people obsess over this now.”

he smiled to himself, glad the lights were low enough that you couldn’t see how stupidly wide it was.

when the big duel between qui-gon, obi-wan, and darth maul hit, both of you sat forward instinctively, eyes glued to the screen.

“okay, that’s—” you whispered, leaning forward with wide eyes. “that’s the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.”

“right?” mark’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “the double-bladed lightsaber? iconic. i remember seeing clips of this when i was a kid.”

“you mean you’ve never watched the whole thing either?”

he hesitated, caught. “…not all of it. bits and pieces. but hey, we’re both first-timers in a way.”

you gave him a sly look. “so this whole time you were pretending to be my expert guide, but really you’re just as clueless as me?”

“uh…” he pretended to study the screen intently. “look, qui-gon’s fighting for his life, can we not do this now?”

you laughed, nudging him with your elbow, but didn’t push the joke further. the fight had both of you hooked, and when the ending hit—when qui-gon fell and obi-wan unleashed everything he had—you actually gasped, covering your mouth.

mark didn’t say anything, just let the silence hang, his eyes flicking toward you to catch your reaction. there was something about watching you experience it, seeing your genuine shock, that made the whole thing better than if he’d been watching alone.

as the credits rolled, you slumped back against the couch, exhaling. “wow.”

“yeah,” mark said softly. “and that’s just the first one.”

you tilted your head, studying him with a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “you’re way too excited for this.”

“hey, i’ve got a perfect excuse,” he replied. “it’s movie night with you. of course i’m excited.”

the words slipped out before he could second-guess them, and he instantly felt heat crawl up the back of his neck. but instead of teasing him, instead of calling him out, you just let your smile grow a little softer, your hand brushing his where it rested on the couch.

“good answer,” you said quietly.

the room was filled with the hum of the ending credits music, the glow of the tv painting shifting colors across both your faces. mark didn’t move his hand away, and you didn’t move yours either. instead, you both stayed like that for a moment, the promise of the next episode hanging between you like an unspoken secret.

“ready for episode two?” he asked eventually, voice a little rougher than before.

you smirked, leaning back into the couch, your head falling against his shoulder again. “hit play, grayson.”

and he did.

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