#marmike

Hi anon, of course :D Pride fans, like and reblog this post so this lovely person can follow you!

Ah, thank you. I’m spending far too little time with my sweethearts these days.

who is the blushiest: Mark doesn’t blush easily because he has done most embarrassing things one could imagine (twice) and has owned them. Mike blushes easily, especially when Mark tells him how beautiful and hot he is. It’s quite the opposite of how Mike sees himself and he has a hard time accepting such compliments.

who likes reality tv and who likes cartoons: They both prefer cartoons because the stereotypes depicted in reality tv only serve to make Mark angry and he has to comment on it and that’s no fun for anyone. Cartoons are often a bit more innocent and sometimes if they’re for small children they’re not as filled with in-your-face straight romance.

who kissed who first: Mark kissed Mike first, when he finally allows himself to admit to his feelings. And then it feels like he can’t stop kissing him.

which one likes vegetables and which one is …disgusted: Both of them like vegetables. Mike loves to plant and nurture them and Mark tries to cook them (more or less successfully). So both of them feel the love when they eat their greens.

what their theme song is: Ship in a Bottle by Bright Eyes

who the angrier one is: Mark gets angry easily, and often it’s good anger because it’s righteous and gives him the energy to do something about everything that’s wrong with the world. Mike is a bit calmer, more level-headed. He knows when he needs to keep his cool and calm Mark down too to keep him from burning out.

which one has the cute nicknames and which one calls the other Armpit McHecker: Mark definitely uses the cute nicknames, but mainly to annoy Mike or make him laugh. Then Mike calls him Armpit McHecker.

Hi anon, so sorry this took forever, I kinda forgot about it and it was lost in my drafts folder. This is actually the prologue of a larger story I started writing called Educating Bromley that you can find here. Enjoy!

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“You’reun-bloody-believable, ye know that?”

Mark Ashtonturned to Mike Jackson, flashing him a sly smirk and a wink.

“Anddon’t you forget it.”

Mikerolled his eyes at his best friend’s default smugness, still riding theadrenaline high of everything that had happened today.

June29th, 1985. It was certainly a day neither would ever forget.

Thelast fourteen hours had been charged with jubilation and the night’sfestivities had been no different.

Itwas infectious. Neither man could control their matching grins as they stoodtogether outside Gay’s The Word.

Takingoff his beanie, the Acrington-native ran a hand through his hair, unable tokeep the amused beam off his face, even as he tried to argue: 

“Seriously,Mark. Ye can’t just…Bromley is–”

“Bromley,or Joe, as he made bloody sure I knew, is a big boy, Mike. He’ll be fine. I’llbe gentle. Start with something simple like the dos and don’ts of Drag, orsomethin’. Don’t mother him,” the Irishman interrupted him with a dismissivewave, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

Mikeswallowed, a lump forming in his throat as he watched his friend, beforeshaking his head, trying to not give in to feelings that were always lyingnot-so-dormant under his skin.

“And besides,”Mark quipped, turning on the spot to face his him, “he seemed to do fine underyour tutelage. You kept up his education,” he finished, passing the cigaretteto Mike with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Mikeshrugged, taking a drag.

“He…hehad questions,” he shrugged, “I…did my best.”

Markleaned in to him, their shoulders touching softly.

“Youdid great, Mike. Bromley was lucky to have you. And Steph and Jeff and the restof the group…” he trailed off, staring ahead, out into the street in front ofGay’s The Word.

Aweight descended on them as the silence stretched on. It hung between them,tethering them together, tying them up in knots until they were so entwinedthat it was hard to spot where Mark finished and Mike began.

Attachedat the hip, figuratively and close-to-literally.

Justlike old times…

Itmade Mike’s stomach clench uncomfortably, Mark’s angered words still echoing inhis ears:

 Do you think that just for once, youcould stop following me around like a fucking spaniel and let me have a life ofmy own?!

Hecouldn’t allow himself to fall back into bad habits. Mark may have apologisedfor being a prick about it, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t have a point.Mike had been entangling his life too much with the Irishman’s, their timeapart only proved that. The bespectacled man had been at a loss when his bestfriend left, feeling adrift and aimless for a long time. It was an ache thatjust grew larger and larger in his chest with every passing day. It went beyondmissing him. It was a feeling of not only loneliness, but of confusion. Justwho was he without Mark and the cause and a plan to follow? He didn’t think he’dever find out. Would ever have to…

Untilone day, Joe came to him with a question, an awkward attempt at seeking advice,really. And the rest…was history.

Andit happened without Mark.

Withouthis warmth and his smile and his own brand of crazy. It was something that wasjust Mike’s that he chose to share with Joe and Jeff and anyone else who neededit. He was no expert, but he was a good listener and had enough experience tohelp out his younger friends with their love lives and other troubles. Hebecame a confidant, the person they all turned to in times of crisis, of worry,of jubilation.

Andit felt good.

Butnot as good as Mark standing beside him, shoulder brushing his, his dark eyestwinkling as he stared up at the night sky.

Mikefoolishly thought he could have both. The person he had found within himself,the same quiet and composed man but now with a little more confidence, a littlemore direction, and have Mark back, at his side, with his tenacity and ingenuityand rapier wit.

Butit wasn’t to be.

Assoon as he had heard that Bromley’s “education” had been somehow continued inhis absence, he had swooped in and appointed himself his new teacher.

“I expect an apple on my desk every morning because after all, Brom—Joe,” he had winked, gesturing with his can, “nobody has moreexperience than I do.”

Well,he did have Mike there, he supposed.

Sothings were to go back to the way they were before.

Thesame old Mark and the same old Mike.

Sixmonths ago, he would have given anything for that to happen.

Now,he wasn’t so sure…

“Stephand Jeff,” Mark huffed out a laugh suddenly, interrupting Mike’s spirallingthoughts, a puff of air rising from his lips, his shoulders hunching as heshoved his hands into his pockets, “sounds like some weird double act.”

“Moveover Morecambe and Wise,” Mike joked, forcing his tone to sound as normal aspossible before taking another drag of the cigarette and holding it out.

Markreached out, his less-than-sober hand bumping against his friend’s, theirfingers brushing as he took the smoke and brought it to his lips. Mike couldn't help but stare as a familiar warmth pooled in his stomach at his touch.

“Youhelped him, Mike,” he murmured so lowly that the bespectacled man had to lean furtherinto him to hear what he was saying, “you were…you were there for him, foreveryone when I—” he broke off, shaking his head, swaying a little, “you’reimportant, Mike. More than…more than you know,” he paused, his Adam’s applebobbing in his throat.

Mikefound his own tightening with emotion, it swelling in his chest at the Irishman’swords.

Markwas rarely ever this…sincere. Not about him.

“You’reit, you know,” his best friend continued, his tone turning wistful as his gazereturned to the night’s sky, “you’re the…heart of the group. Without you…” hetrailed off, biting his lower lip, clearly struggling with his words.

Mike didn’t think he’d ever seen him grapple with his words before. His heart hammered in his chest, hardly believing what he was hearing, what Mark was struggling to say. It was like his friend had read his mind and wanted to sooth his worries. 

Mark was definitely drunk. Mike wasn’t far behind him.

I've been working on the next part of my marmike fic Saving Some for Home, but I'm having severe writer's block and just can't finish the chapter I'm working on. I thought a fresh pair of eyes might help me to find motivation. 

So does anyone feel like betaing/just reading that chapter as far as it exists and telling me if it's okay or if I have to start over?