Chapter Text
Mark feels sick to his stomach as he trudges down the hallway, wishing he didn’t have to be at school right now. He should be at the GDA with his mother, waiting for his father to wake up. What if his father wakes up while he’s gone? What if he doesn’t wake up at all? He’s wasting precious time he could be spending with his father — it’s not like he could be a star student today, anyways.
Mark’s father, Omni-Man, is objectively the strongest man on Earth. Who is even powerful enough to hurt him, let alone beat him within nearly an inch of his life? Mark has never, ever seen his father in critical condition before. It makes Mark nauseous to think about it, reminds him his father is still mortal at the end of the day.
Mark is so lost in his own world that he doesn’t even notice William until his friend is right in front of his face.
“Mark, Mark,” William is saying. Mark stops in front of him, his eyes downcast at William’s shoes. “Woah. Are you okay?”
“My dad,” Mark offers quietly, figuring there’s no use in trying to hide it. “He got attacked.”
“What? You’re kidding.” Mark still can’t manage to look at him. “Oh God, you’re not kidding. I— Is he okay? What happened?”
Mark feels his eyes well up and he pushes through the pinch in his throat. “He’s in the hospital. They’re doing, uh, they’re doing their best but it’s…it’s messed up William. He’s really hurt.”
“Jesus, Mark. I’m so sorry. Did they catch who did it?”
“No, not yet,” Mark mumbles. He shuffles his feet and tightens his jaw, trying to control the hatred burning inside him for this mysterious attacker. His father works tirelessly to keep the world safe, puts his life at risk every day, and someone hates him enough to want him dead.
“Speaking as someone who’s been attacked in this stupid city, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. You wanna talk, I’ll listen. You and Debbie need lasagna, I make a good one. Actually, I make a great one.”
Mark finally manages to look at William. He takes in the hint of a smile tugging at his lips and the glint in his eye that Mark swears he reserves just for him. It manages to ease Mark’s anxiety, just a little.
“You know.” Mark thinks about the frozen dinners his mother had left for him in the freezer. “A lasagna does sound nice.”
William’s smile widens in a way that makes Mark’s stomach flutter. “I knew it’d be irresistible. Do you want me to come over after school? Or will you be visiting your dad?”
“After school is fine,” Mark says with a shake of his head. He can’t pass up the idea of a good distraction to keep his worry at bay.
“Great,” William chirps, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s going to say something else, but the bell rings, signaling 10 minutes until the start of class. “Meet me at my car later.”
“Yeah,” Mark sighs.
With plans set, William turns on his heel and heads to class, Mark watching him a little longer than necessary as he leaves. Someone bumps into his arm, and with a jolt, Mark realizes he’s standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot. He blinks and rushes to his locker to grab his books before heading to class himself.
The day passes by painfully slow, prolonging Mark’s suffering. Since Mark would rather not make himself sick thinking of his father, he switches to daydreaming about hanging out with William instead. It’s been difficult for them to spend time together lately with Mark’s job and newly discovered powers eating up a lot of his free time. Frankly, he’s missed his friend.
He’s missed William’s teasing, his raucous laugh, the way his eyebrows pinch and his head tilts when he contemplates things, the smell of his stupid cookie body wash, the soft, intimate touches he gives Mark when it’s just the two of them—
Okay, he’s maybe—definitely—down bad for his best friend. Still, Mark’s been way too busy lately. Just an hour left and William is his for the rest of the afternoon.
In his final class of the day, Mark tortures himself by watching the clock like a hawk, making himself antsy as hell. He bounces his leg like a lunatic, earning a dirty look from the student next to him. Finally, after the worst hour of his life, the bell rings, and Mark packs his things and rushes outside as fast as humanly possible. As fast as he can without causing a scene, anyway.
He beats William to his car, leaning against it casually when he spots William’s bouncy hair in the distance.
“Hey,” Mark says coolly as William approaches.
“Hey,” William answers, unlocking his car and tossing his backpack in the back seat. “Let’s go.”
Mark jumps into the front seat, immediately getting to work on setting up the music. The ride to the grocery store is silent, save for the music, but comfortable. William drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, seemingly oblivious of the way Mark can't take his eyes off his hands. Mark doesn’t even notice they’ve made it to the store until William puts the car in park and turns it off.
Mark carries the basket as William leads the way through the store, wanting to make himself at least a little useful. He ends up hovering next to William the whole time, probably way too close, but William doesn’t seem to mind. He simply nudges Mark when he wants him to move or start walking. Mark just enjoys the physical contact he wouldn’t be getting if he wasn’t being slightly annoying.
The hovering continues in Mark’s kitchen, with Mark watching silently as William reads over the recipe pulled up on his phone and starts the prep. Again, they don’t say much. William is too focused and Mark isn’t in a talking mood. Their only conversation is Mark offering help and William immediately shooting him down. So, Mark just opts to share William’s personal space. Again, William uses nudges to move Mark around.
William bumps into Mark’s arm as he attempts to go between the pan and the baking dish. “Mark,” he scoffs.
“Hm?”
William looks up at him, then places a finger on Mark’s sternum, pushing him until he’s an arm’s length away. “You’re under my feet like a dog.”
“A dog?!” Mark whines. How could William possibly compare him to a dog? The thought makes him frown.
“Yes. And don’t give me your fucking puppy eyes.”
Mark straightens himself up, putting on his best poker face. “I just like being next to you.”
“But I’m trying to cook.” Mark takes a step closer to him. “Ah! Bad dog.”
“William!”
“You’re banished from the kitchen until I’m done. Go sit at the table.”
Mark hangs his head. “You’re so mean,” he mutters as he trudges to the dining room.
He plops down in a chair at the dining room table, busying himself with his phone. He could honestly just sit there and watch William work, but he doesn’t want William to ask him why he’s being a freak when he turns around. When Mark hears the sink turn on, he offers his help, but William again refuses.
In the middle of scrolling through Twitter, Mark gets a call from his mom. His heart sinks as he stares at the name on his screen.
“Mom?” Mark answers shakily. William peers over his shoulder from in front of the sink, quickly turning his attention back to the dishes.
“Hi, honey,” Debbie chirps.
“Is everything okay?” Mark pinches the fabric of his pants, preparing for the worst.
“Yes. I just wanted to check in on you.”
“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, rubbing his face with his hand as he relaxes. “I thought you were calling me to say Dad died.”
“No, he’s fine. I just thought you would come back after school, is all.”
Mark exhales a shaky breath, suddenly exhausted after the brief dose of adrenaline. “Sorry. William is over. I should’ve texted you.”
“It’s okay. I’ve just been worrying about you all day. Did you tell him what happened?”
“I mean, not exactly…” It’s not like he can tell William what truly happened, as much as he wants to. But he’s used to it at this point— he’s had to hide from William his dad is Omni Man for years. Although Mark newly becoming Invincible adds a layer of complication.
“Either way, I’m glad he’s there to keep you company.”
“Me, too.” Mark smiles to himself, watching William scrub a pan, his hair flopped in front of his face. “He’s making a lasagna.”
“No gossiping about me!” William calls out, not even looking up from his task.
“Ooh, that sounds yummy. Be sure to save some for your father and I.”
“I will.”
“And come visit after school tomorrow.”
“I will,” he repeats.
Mark scratches his cheek absentmindedly as he waits for his mother to continue the conversation.
“Well, I’ll let you go. I don’t want to keep you for too long while William is there.”
“You sure? I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m doing much right now, anyways — I’m forbidden from entering the kitchen.”
Debbie chuckles. “What did you do to warrant that?”
“I was just standing by him. It was a bit of an overreaction if you ask me.” Mark says the second part loud enough to make sure William hears. William doesn’t even turn to Mark, but he can tell by the slight tilt of his head he’s rolling his eyes. “He called me a dog. Super mean.”
“I said you're like a dog, not that you are a dog!” William yells as Debbie’s laughs come in through the speaker.
“Bullshit. You literally said ‘bad dog.’” William snickers, and it’s Mark’s turn to roll his eyes. He sighs into his phone. “I can’t believe how I put up with him sometimes.”
“I can’t believe how he puts up with you sometimes.”
“Oh, whatever.”
Debbie hums. “I’ll leave you to it now. I love you. And William loves you too— that’s how he puts up with you.”
“Okay, Mom, love you too.” Mark feels his cheeks turn red. If only his mother knew the kind of love he craves from William. “Just text me if you need anything. Or if you get bored.”
“I will. Bye.”
Mark ends the call and places his phone face down in front of him. He runs his hand through his hair, then slumps dramatically in his seat. God, he has it so bad that even his mother saying William loves him gets him all worked up, even if she just meant as a friend. He allows himself to wonder what it would be like if they were more. He could walk up behind William, cling to his back, press his lips to his neck, feel William push back against him—
“You look constipated,” William points out as he slips into the chair next to Mark. Mark just scowls at him. “Sorry. Too much? I’ll reel it in a little.”
“No, it’s fine,” Mark says with a shake of his head. “I’m just a little out of it today.”
William hums in acknowledgement and folds his hands together. “So. How’s your dad?”
“Okay, I think. Still not awake. My mom said to save some lasagna for him, so she must be confident he’ll get to come home soon.”
“Oh, that’s good!”
Mark nods, but a lump instantly forms in his throat. He’s suddenly overcome with nausea as he thinks about how weak his father looked in the hospital in the morning. “I just— I hate this. I hate that someone did that to him.” Mark sniffles and wipes his eyes. “I don’t understand why someone would do that to him.”
“I’m sorry, Mark. I don’t know either. Probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Mark wants to agree, tell William he’s probably right, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, the truth threatens to spill from his lips. He hates having to lie to William like this, especially when William is trying to comfort him. More tears well in his eyes as he tries to keep his mouth shut so he doesn’t regret his words later.
“Come here,” William demands as he stands up, beckoning Mark with his arms.
Mark does as he says, enveloping William in a hug. He can practically feel his anxiety melting away from the gesture, like William’s touch is his medicine. A shiver runs down his spine when William places a soothing hand on the back of his neck.
“Your dad will be okay,” William says quietly, right into Mark’s ear. “When he wakes up, he can tell the police what happened, and they’ll put whoever hurt him in jail. And when he comes back home, he can have some of my amazing lasagna.”
Mark chuckles, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach that formed in response to deceiving his friend. He doesn’t deserve the kindness William offers him when all he does is lie to him. If Mark ever decides to fess up, William will surely be pissed and no longer want to be his friend.
“You want to watch a movie?” William asks, his arms still around Mark.
Mark thinks for a moment, then decides to go with “Sure.” It’ll provide a nice distraction, at least.
William pulls away, leaving Mark feeling pathetically empty, then slinks off to the living room to turn on the TV.
“Have I ever told you how much I hate your couch set up?” William gripes as he messes with the remote. “Like, objectively, the couch should face the TV. No one wants to sit sideways on a couch to make it usable.”
“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Mark sighs as he plops on the cushion closest to the TV. William likes to complain almost every time they watch TV at Mark’s house. Like Mark has any say on where the couch goes.
William curls up behind Mark and picks a Netflix original that surely features shitty, cheesy writing and shittier, cheesier acting. Mediocre movies are always William’s favorite, and while Mark can’t say he feels the same, he enjoys making fun of them with William.
Just as the movie starts reaching its climax, the timer on William’s phone goes off, Mark jumping at the unexpected noise behind him. William pauses the movie and shoots up, darting into the kitchen. Mark follows not long after, grabbing plates and silverware for them both. As William pulls the lasagna out of the oven, Mark’s mouth can’t help but water. It looks and smells divine.
“Oh my God,” William grunts, tossing the oven mitts on the counter. “I should’ve made garlic bread.”
“That would’ve been a lot of carbs, dude.”
William rolls his eyes. “Of course Mr. Gym Rat would say that. Carbs are delicious.”
“I’m not a gym rat!” Mark counters. “I just work out…occasionally.”
Mark had started working out the year before hoping it would help his powers kick in. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much on that front, but he does enjoy how toned he’s become.
“Whatever. Your muscles say otherwise.”
Mark turns his head away, grinning like an idiot at the thought of William checking out his muscles. He must look enough, right? At least to notice they’re more than his natural physique.
“Okay,” William starts. “I know the proper thing to do is let this sit out for a bit then cut into it, but I’m impatient. What do you think?”
Mark could not give a less of a fuck about the proper lasagna etiquette. “‘M starving.” He didn’t feel well enough at lunch to eat, so he hadn’t eaten anything all day other than some cereal at breakfast. It was starting to catch up to him.
“Okay, yeah, fuck waiting.”
William grabs a knife and begins to cut into the lasagna, creating two portions for the both of them at one end of the dish. Mark supervises as William attempts to scoop each portion out in one piece, but the temperature of the lasagna causes it to sort of fall apart. Mark really doesn’t care if it kind of looks like slop on the plate — he knows it’ll still taste good.
They take their plates to the dining room table and set them down next to each other. Mark slides into his seat, following William with his eyes as he goes back to the kitchen. He doesn’t touch his food until William comes back, holding a glass of water in one hand and a can of cherry Coke in the other. Mark isn't sure cherry Coke and lasagna go very well together, but he keeps his mouth shut. William is obsessed with that stupid drink. Debbie even keeps some in the fridge exclusively for William. It’s a miracle he’s still as skinny as he is with how much of it he drinks. Along with everything else he eats.
“Thanks,” Mark mumbles before taking a sip of water. A warm, fuzzy feeling settles in his stomach along with the water. He’d hardly drank any all day, and definitely hasn’t drank any since he got home. A lot of the time, William can seemingly read Mark’s mind and give him what he wants without him having to say anything. A joke to lighten his mood when he’s bored, a comfortable silence when Mark doesn’t want to talk, a soft touch when it’s just the two of them, even a simple text when they’ve gone more than a day without talking. Mark convinces himself William got the water because William knew he’d spent too much of the day lost in thought and forgotten to take care of himself.
“Mhmm,” William hums as he pops open his can.
The room is devoid of conversation as they eat, save for Mark moaning about how good it is on his first bite. They just stuff their faces, feasting like savage animals as teenage boys often do. Mark finishes first, having practically inhaled his meal, but William isn't far behind.
“Not to yank my own cock, but man was that good,” William says, leaning back in the chair.
Mark snorts a little, nodding in agreement. “I definitely feel better than I did this morning.”
“Thanks to my all-healing lasagna.”
“I mean, it’s mostly due to spending time with you,” Mark smiles. “But the lasagna helped.”
William rolls his eyes, but a smile creeps onto his face as well. “Okay, Mr. Sappy Ass.”
“I thought I was Mr. Gym Rat?”
“You’re both.”
“Well, if I get stupid names, then you’re, uh— You’re Mr. Sassy…” Mark wracks his brain for another descriptor. “Twink.”
“Wow, Mark, stereotypical much?” William asks with a glint in his eye. Mark instantly regrets the name, because Jesus Christ, Sassy Twink is really stereotypical. “How homophobic of you.”
“What? No! Me thinking you’re sassy is independent from you being gay. And it’s your fault for teaching me gay slang, anyway.”
“Oh, yeah, now blame the victim.”
Mark scoffs and throws his hands up. “Come on!”
William cackles and stands up, knocking his elbow into Mark’s shoulder. William takes both of their plates to the kitchen and rinses them off before putting them in the dishwasher.
“It’s your job to put the leftovers away,” William calls out as he closes the dishwasher with his knee.
Finally summoned, Mark comes to the kitchen to determine the best way to store the lasagna. It turns out that the baking dish that William used is the one of two in their house that doesn’t have a matching lid. Mark wasn't thinking that far ahead earlier, but maybe he would’ve thought to have told William to use the other one if he wasn’t kicked out. And he does not want to cut up the lasagna and put it into 50 smaller containers — that’s far too much work.
“Would putting foil on top be okay?” Mark asks. William’s smarter than Mark when it comes to this kind of stuff. He’s hardly ever cooked actual meals, and running the fryers at Burger Mart doesn’t count.
“Should be fine.”
With that, William grabs their drinks and settles back on the couch. Mark joins once the food is in the fridge, resuming his previous position as William unpauses the movie. The ending turns out to be super lame, even agitating because it’s just so lame. They pick another movie, agreeing they need a palette cleanser after whatever the hell they just watched.
Pretty earlier into the next movie, Mark starts getting antsy. It’s something they’ve seen before, since they wanted to watch something they know they like, so Mark doesn’t have to pay as much attention to know what’s happening. His mind wanders to his dad again, telling him he’s stupid and selfish for not visiting after school. He chose his little crush over his dying father.
“Mark,” William says softly, almost a whisper. He pokes Mark in the back of his ribs, causing Mark to turn around. William slumps a bit, pats his thighs, then rests his arm along the back of the couch. “Come here.”
With a quick nod, Mark lies down and rests his head in William’s lap, trying his best to push down the blush rising to his cheeks. The contact with William almost instantly calms him down, his worrying thoughts ceasing completely when William pushes a hand into his hair. It isn’t often that they’re this intimate with each other, and Mark cherishes it every time. It only happens when one of them is feeling particularly down, and Mark wishes he didn’t have to be sad for William to play with his hair. Unfortunately, Mark is way too nervous to ask William to do it more often — it’s probably weird for two friends to casually cuddle, anyways.
At one point, Mark apparently falls asleep, because next thing he knows, he’s being poked in the cheek. His eyes flutter open, and he finds William peering down at him. Mark rubs his eyes and groans.
“Let’s get you upstairs,” William suggests. He isn’t playing with Mark's hair anymore.
“But I’m comfy right here,” Mark complains.
“A bed is comfier. And my legs are going to fall off if I don’t move soon — you’re heavy.”
Mark frowns. “But I don’t want you to leave.” If he were more alert, he’d have the awareness to be embarrassed over his clinginess.
“Well lucky for you, I was planning on staying. Now please get up.”
Mark does as he’s told, sitting up with a yawn. The TV is already off — who knows how long the movie has been over. He stretches his hands over his head, a small squeak escaping his mouth, before hopping off the couch and standing in front of William. William is just staring at him, so Mark nudges his calf with his foot.
“D’your legs work?” Mark asks. He offers a hand to William to help him stand up.
“Barely,” William mumbles, taking his hand. He grumbles under his breath about not being able to feel his leg as he trudges up the stairs. But he makes it to Mark’s room perfectly safe and sound.
“I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” Mark announces as he grabs an extra baggy shirt to wear to bed. William nods and begins to rifle through Mark’s drawers before he leaves the room.
When Mark comes back, ready for bed and freshly changed, William is in a pair of Mark’s joggers and one of his own t-shirts that Mark isn’t sure how he managed to find.
“I was wondering where the hell this went,” William says, grabbing at the hem of his shirt.
“You left it here,” Mark responds with a shrug. He was definitely planning on never giving it back, but William doesn’t need to know that.
As William takes his turn in the bathroom, Mark turns off the lights and flops into bed. He feels giddy as he pulls the covers up around himself — it had been a few weeks since William stayed over last.
William slips into bed behind him, jostling him as he makes himself comfortable.
“Night, Mark.”
“Night,” Mark answers, drifting off to sleep.