For those of you who don't know, Mark is the homeschool kid who shows up in Hooked on Monkey Phonics, and then promptly dissapears afterwards.

Crack pairing? Kind of. 8D Go back and look at what Craig does at the end of the episode. Teehee.


The music throbbed so hard in his ears, Craig had to mentally double take at the words coming from Mark's mouth.

"You better be fucking kidding me." Craig groaned over the music, fingers twitching idly, both in annoyance and because of the strong urge to join the mass of shoving and shouting and kicking bodies near the front of the stage.

"I'm coming with you!" the brunette repeated earnestly, staring Craig straight in the eye.

"You'll get your ass handed to you," He growled through the heavy music. He cringed inwardly as he looked down at Mark's clothes. He was wearing something that teetered uncomfortably between nerd, emo, and pussy little faggot who tries too hard, and it clashed horribly with the dissonant thrash of punk and Ska screaming from the speakers.

"So?" Mark gave him a defiant glare, thin fingers wrapping tightly around Craig's wrist. They weren't letting go. "You're not leaving me back here."

Sighing, impatience more so than defeat causing his will to crumble, he dragged the boy toward the writhing mass of people. "Stay away from anyone too much bigger than you. Dodge things that come at your face. And for the love of god, if you don't fucking watch yourself, I'm not going to bandage your fucking wounds, got it?" He added, looking away, the slightest bit of worry in his voice, "So you better not get any."

Grinning wide, Mark dragged the reluctant boy into the crowd, disappearing quickly into it. Victory was his.

"So?" Craig asked through gritted teeth.

"I didn't see the guy coming at me," Mark said, a little dazed but still grinning. Blood trickled down from a large tear above his eyebrow, and was soaking his face and getting into his eye. Or, at least it had, before Craig noticed the gash, flew into a panic, and dragged the skinny boy into the small, dirty restroom of the venue.

"Didn't see him coming at you..." Craig spat, pressing the moistened wad of toilet paper against, what was to him, a massive head injury. "You could have lost a fucking eye. Christ, how much is this going to bleed...?"

Sighing, Mark allowed himself to be lectured, feeling a kind of strange delight in it. "Just keep pressing on it and it should stop. And, I know I could have lost an eye. I could have gotten the shit kicked out of me too, and probably could have gotten trampled, broke my neck, and left for dead." He looked up at Craig, eyes peering through mussed bangs. The horror on the other's face was equally satisfying, but he couldn't help but feel a little bad. "But I wasn't. And it's not going to happen again."

"You're damn fucking sure it's not going to happen again!" Craig laughed, but Mark heard little humor in his voice. "You go towards another mosh pit again and I'll break your fucking legs myself."

Mark let out a giggle, which only further frustrated the already impatient boy. "Come on." He grabbed the roll of toilet paper Craig had stolen and tore off another chunk, pressing it to his head. "We're going to miss the last band, and I like this one." He slid down off of the greasy sink and made his way toward the door.

"Craig?" He asked, looking over his shoulder, the crumpled mass of white obscuring one eye.

"What?" Craig asked, words dripping with annoyance.

"It's cute when you worry about me."

Blushing, mouth opening a couple of times, Craig just gritted his teeth and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him into crowded room. This time, though, he kept a firm grasp on Mark's hand the entire time, pulling him back every time he strayed too far. There was no way he would be leaving his side tonight, and after awhile, Mark gave up, just leaning into him and resting his head against his shoulder, the music pulsing steadily around them.