Roadblock (G/T P!Septiplier)

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Jack opened his heavy eyes and saw the edge of the bed towering over him. He groaned and turned his head to the side, and he realized through the hazy fog of sleep that he had somehow rolled onto the floor and taken the covers with him. He tossed them off now and sat up, squinting in the early gray light. His hair was messy, and he ran his hand through the wild tufts as he looked down at his legs. Nothing. No blood stained the floor, nor was flesh or muscles ripped under dirtied bandages.

"... What a weird dream," Jack muttered. He couldn't remember specifics, but he could recall a few details. He remembered the apocalypse and seeing all his friends and... and the doctor...

I had a dream about a fictional character. Jack almost chuckled out loud. Now I'm definitely losing it. He climbed out of the covers and sluggishly made his way out of the bedroom. With one hand on the wall, he made his way to the kitchen and got the brewer started so that he could have some coffee to wake him up. While he waited for the dirty bean juice, he decided to check his phone for any updates.

But his tired expression stole back over his countenance when he remembered what was wrong. He let out a tiny sigh and scrolled through Twitter. Still no sign of him? What the hell? Jack frowned. Something's gotta be up. I don't care if he's still posting videos, he's not responding to anything else on his social media, and I still can't get to him. Then Jack pulled up YouTube and typed quickly. Sure enough, the latest videos, and a lot of them were horror games. That wasn't unusual though. Mark was famous for playing them, but...

Still, Jack was deeply troubled, and the fabrics of his dream slipped away quickly as the coffee maker beeped. He grunted and poured himself a cup of delicious energy, and as soon as the energizing drink hit his lips he already started to feel a little more perked. Maybe I should call him, Jack wondered, Should I call him? His hand hesitated on the counter. No, I shouldn't, he's probably tired. Then he tapped on his contacts and pulled up the correct phone number anyway. I just wanna know if he's ok, Jack told himself. It's not like I'm his dad or anything. Just a concerned friend, living on the other side of the world... come on Mark, please, pick up, just this-

"Jack?" Jack smiled, relieved. He's ok!

"Hey Mark!" He put the call on speaker mode so he could set the coffee pot aside. "I know it's late over there, but just calling to say hi, I haven't heard from ya in a while," he said.

"Oh. Yeah, I've been really busy," Mark admitted.

"It's fine, I get it." Jack took another sip and set the cup down. "I was actually thinking of asking if you want to do a collab video?" He asked. "A lot of people are asking for it, and I thought it'd be fun because we haven't really played together in such a long time, and—"

"I can't, I said I'm busy." Jack winced, and Mark quickly amended his tone. "I mean..." He sighed, his tone dropping morosely. "Look, man, just... not now, ok? I've been really stressed lately what with all the projects I've been undertaking and..." Jack shook his head.

"No hard feelings, dude. I totally get it."

"Thanks..." Then Mark changed the subject, immediately brightening up again. "So did you just wake up? How did you sleep?" Jack grunted mid-swallow and set his mug down.

"Yeah, I just got up." He tried to recall his dream, but only one thing had stuck with him. "I had a dream about one of my alter egos," the Irishman chuckled. Silence. Jack wondered if Mark had heard him before he thought he heard some sort of exasperated sigh in the background, and then he finally responded after the click of something being set down.

"Oh really?" He asked in a light tone. "Which one?" Jack yawned.

"Doctor Schneeplestein. That doctor persona I made up with the German accent? Can't remember what the dream was about, though." Jack frowned. "I think you were in it too, actually. And Signe, and the rest of Teamiplier..."