HAPPY BIRTHDAY @galaxy-starheart why the fuck can i still not tag you tumblr plz
I heard you had a thing for this ship. So I hope you enjoy. :D I may or may not have been inspired by a recent Mark upload. >u>
(For those unaware, this is about Sexyplier and Brother Jeremiah. You know, Mark egos. Go check out @alcordraws for more deets. uwu)
Sexy was beautiful.
No, Sexy was more than that. Sexy was funny, smart, witty, creative, kind, generous and a plethora of other positive adjectives one could find in a thesaurus. Jeremiah could go on and on for days about the wonders of his boyfriend.
Which was precisely why he never felt good enough. Plain looking, shortly cropped hair, simple clothes and glasses. He was a younger Mark. A scrawnier Mark.
Not like Sexy, with his long, dark hair and toned muscles. He was the older Mark. The more defined Mark without the baby face and instead hosting a gorgeously chiseled jaw. No nerdy glasses. Stunning no matter what he wore, which was often very little.
No, Jeremiah just couldn't compare. He often wondered why Sexy bothered with him at all. He had to do something. Something to show Sexy he was worth it. Otherwise, Sexy might realize just how out of Jeremiah's league he was, and leave him for someone better. Someone more suave and handsome and smooth talking.
Mark had a girlfriend. Amy was a lovely person; all the egos loved her, or at least tolerated her existence. Surely he'd have a tip or two, surely he'd know how to maintain someone's interest. Jeremiah turned to Mark's videos, combing through them, searching for that thing that made Amy find him worthwhile. That kept her with him for all these years. There had to be something.
He found it in a recent video. A cover Mark had tried for the first time, with his guitar. It was rough around the edges and Mark was clearly nervous, but even so his angelic chords managed to shine through.
Music. Singing.
Of course. How could Jeremiah have forgotten? Sexy had some of the most beautiful vocals he'd ever heard. Granted, all the egos shared some degree of Mark's singing ability, and perhaps Jeremiah was a bit biased. Still, Sexy enjoyed music, and he knew he was a fantastic singer. Jeremiah couldn't compare to Sexy's beauty, or his charms, but maybe... just maybe...
He could sing.
That was how Jeremiah found himself knocking on Mark's door with an acoustic guitar in his hands, instead of his usual bible.
Mark was understandably surprised. Not only was it odd to find an ego on his doorstep, but for it to be Jeremiah, and with a guitar? He blinked and rubbed at his eyes in an effort to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. "Jeremiah? What are you... you're not on another Mormon spewing spree through town, are you? Because, you know, that's not gonna work on me."
Jeremiah gave a sheepish grin. "No, nothing like that. I just... I wanted to ask, if maybe... you could give me some guitar lessons?"
That set Mark to blinking again. He scrubbed a hand at his eyes and face. "Wait... what? You want me to... what? Lessons? Since when did you want to play the guitar?" He paused, then squinted at Jeremiah. "...where did you even get a guitar?"
Jeremiah's grin became a bit more strained. "I bought it. Of course. And, uh... no reason really. Just... saw your video, and thought it'd be interesting to learn." He rushed forward, hoping to evade anymore questions. "So are you going to teach me or not?"
Mark frowned and scratched at the back of his head, but eventually shrugged. "I mean... yeah, okay. I can spare some time. I'm still practicing myself, anyway... so I'm not sure how great of a teacher I'll be."
Jeremiah's shoulders relaxed, and his smile smoothed out some. His death grip on the neck of his guitar loosened. "I'll take whatever you can give me."
Thus the lessons began. Jeremiah hadn't taken the time to learn many things in his existence, but when it came to Sexy, his determination was stoked into a roaring blaze. He sat through session after session with Mark, almost daily, going over chords and bars and rhythms. It wasn't long at all before his fingers bled, and he came home to the treehouse covered with bandaids.
"What happened to your hands?" Sexy would ask, frowning, gently turning over the digits in his own to examine the bandaids.
Jeremiah hated lying to Sexy, but he needed this to be a surprise. He always came up with some excuse or other to satisfy his boyfriend's concern.
Oh, I was helping Bill with the garden.
I got into a scuffle with Opinion Minion again.
Chef needed help in the kitchen, you know I'm not the best with a knife....
Sexy never seemed to fully believe Jeremiah, but he accepted every excuse. He would scatter kisses across Jeremiah's fingers, and then move onto his face; loving, tender, slow. Sexy cared about him so deeply. It was precisely the reason he pressed on, working through the pain and frustration and road blocks.
"Have you been practicing on your own at all?" Mark asked one day.
Jeremiah winced. "I can't. Se... I mean, I have no privacy for it. I don't want the others judging me." He swallowed. Jeremiah still hadn't confessed his reasons to Mark.
Mark had pursed his lips into a frown. Much as he wanted to reassure Jeremiah, he understood that anxiety all too well. He wracked his brain, knowing solo practice was important to getting better. "What if... I introduced you to someone? I think he'd have just the solution."
Jeremiah was wary, but he was also desperate. His anniversary with Sexy was coming up, and he needed this song to be perfect. So he accepted Mark's offer, though he found himself quickly regretting it when he was led to the doors of Egos, Inc. itself. He stayed close to Mark, having been inside the building before but never without Sexy at his side. Somehow, his boyfriend always gave him a confidence boost. It certainly didn't help Mark was leading him to a part of the building he'd never been to before. Usually, they just borrowed the more extensive kitchen space.
Yet Mark took him past that area and deeper into the halls. He knocked on a door, and it was opened by one of the androids- not the truly terrifying ones, but the odd one. The misfit: Bingiplier. He'd greeted Mark enthusiastically, attempting to do the same with Jeremiah.
Jeremiah had managed a shaky greeting in response. It was enough, and they were invited into what appeared to be a studio. Mark pointed out the ego they were actually here to see- Mark Bop. Of course. How could Jeremiah be so dull? Even if he wasn't familiar with all of the main egos, everyone knew about the musical one. Why didn't he think of coming to Mark Bop for help before?
The ego was more shy and subdued than Jeremiah expected. It was a welcome temperament, though, in the wake of his rattled nerves. He resisted the urge to pilfer some of the expensive equipment, and instead thanked Mark Bop profusely when he conceded to lending Jeremiah one of his recording booths. Finally, he would have a private place to practice. No worries about Sexy or one of the other egos catching him. No fear of his surprise being spoiled too early.
He really owed Mark for this. Maybe he'd return that blue flannel he'd snatched a while back.
Maybe.
With the solo practices, Jeremiah was able to begin piecing together his song. Mark's guidance was paramount, and even Mark Bop offered up a suggestion or two whenever he happened to be around. It was coming together, slowly but surely, and Sexy was none the wiser. He only hoped his growing absences from the treehouse weren't giving his boyfriend the wrong impression.
When the day came, Jeremiah texted Sexy to meet him in his bedroom. In reality, he was waiting outside, standing in the small clearing beneath the treehouse with his guitar at the ready. He could clearly see into his own bedroom window from his position, and once he spied Sexy's silhouette he fired off another text.
Look outside.
It took a few moments, but eventually the window was opened to reveal the surprised, stunning face of Sexy staring down at him. He pressed his hands to the windowsill and leaned outside. "Jerry? What're you doing down there? Is that... is that a guitar?"
Jeremiah tried to grin, but his lips trembled too much. His fingers were shaking as well where they rested on the strings. Sexy was spectacular, leaning out the window in his adorable pink crop top with his dark hair flawlessly framing his face; breathtaking. It took him several tries to find his voice. "Sexy. We've been together for... for a year now, and... I just wanted to do something for you. To... to show you just how much I love you. So... listen, okay? This is for you."
Sexy had his hands pressed over his mouth, brown eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and adoration. Jeremiah took it as a sign he could continue, and drew a deep breath.
He messed up the first chord. Resisting the urge to curse under his breath, he bit at his lip and tried again. The notes were practically muscle memory by now, but his anxiety was making his palms sweaty; his fingers slipping. Jeremiah furrowed his brow and muscled through it, looping the intro of the song once over when his voice failed to work.
But the words couldn't hide forever, and soon they were spilling out. "When your legs don't work like they used to before... and I can't sweep you off of your feet...."
Maybe it was a cheap move, picking the same song as Mark. He'd just been inspired. The song was so romantic, and he couldn't hear it without thinking of Sexy and himself. It was perfect. "Take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars. Place your hand on my beating heart."
His version was less so, but... Sexy was still listening. He was still watching with rapt attention, so Jeremiah would keep playing, keep singing. His anxiety never dissipated, but his confidence grew the deeper into his performance he got. His voice evened out and his grip on the guitar became more sure, the notes flowing into a steadied rhythm. At some point, he'd closed his eyes, just allowing himself to feel the music and sing from the heart.
That's what Sexy was to him. His heart. This song could never convey it enough, could never compare, but it was something. Finally, he had something. "Thinking out loud... baby, we found love right where we are...."
The final chords of the song trailed off and Jeremiah drew another deep breath. His eyes were still closed as he tried to compose himself, tried not to think the worst of the ensuing silence. Had Sexy left? Did he hate it? Did he think Jeremiah's efforts were stupid? Not enough? What if he-
The sound of footsteps rushing towards him had Jeremiah's eyes flying open, just in time for him to receive an armful of crying Sexy. Stunned, he held his boyfriend close, the guitar awkwardly hanging off his shoulder to the side. Sexy was burying his face into Jeremiah's neck, hiccuping and sobbing, pressing wet little kisses there while he clung to Jeremiah like a drowning man. Jeremiah's heart hammered away in his chest. "Sexy...?"
"I love you so much."
Color flooded Jeremiah's cheeks. He shrugged his guitar around to his back so he could hold Sexy closer, better. Gently, one of his hands rubbed down the elegant curve of Sexy's back. The other carded fingers through his soft, black hair. His own lips trembled again while his heart performed backflips. "I... love you too, Sexy. So much. You mean... the world to me, and... thank you. For staying with me...." His voice cracked, and he gave a little sniffle.
Sexy laughed, raw and wet and incredulous, and pulled his face out from Jeremiah's neck. It was red and puffy from his tears, his nose running, bangs sticking to his forehead and in Jeremiah's opinion he was still the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. "Of course I'm with you, you big dumb idiot! I wouldn't want anyone else- I don't want anyone else. I want you. It's always been you... it will always be you...."
Jeremiah let out a soft sob of his own, brown eyes misting over with the threat of tears. He choked a little on his words, "I love you so much. I don't..." He hiccuped, and Sexy pressed a finger to his lips.
"You don't have to do anything else but kiss me, damn it." Sexy was smiling. He removed his finger in favor of cupping Jeremiah's face in his hands, thumbs stroking along his flushed cheek bones. "Kiss me."
