rei17
in
120_minuten
Intimität: "Joker" (für mich)
Team: Novalis
Challenge: Intimität: "Joker" (für mich), Inspiration von dieser Geschichte von keksdiebin
Fandom: The social Network
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo
Vorwort: Die AU, wo Eduardo Spiderman ist, einfach weil ... Andrew Garfield! <3
Warnungen: Angst und Kitsch - das übliche also. Und in englisch und NICHT gebetat. (Und im Halbschlaf geschrieben.)
Inhalt: "Rooftops? Really? What is it with you and rooftops?“
Direkte Fortsetzung zu diesem Teil.
When he comes back home it's early morning and the sky is a pale shade of gray and blue.
The bedroom is empty and Mark obviously hasn't slept here, since the bed is untouched. He isn't in the living room either and for a second Eduardo allows himself to panic.
Because despite everything he says Mark is a billionaire and people have tried to kidnap him before and Eduardo wasn't here, why wasn't he here…
Except then he remembers there's one other place he hasn't checked out yet. The thought alone reduces the mindless panic to a somewhat manageable hum of anxiety in the back of his throat.
Mark is on the roof.
On the fucking roof. Eduardo feels himself breathing again.
He sits close to the edge (way closer than Eduardo is comfortable with), a notebook on his lap and his legs dangling carelessly in thin air. He looks scarily relaxed for somebody who sits on the roof of a thirty-stories-building.
But even realizing that Mark isn’t in imminent danger of dropping to death doesn‘t stop Eduardo's heart from jumping into his throat.
There has always been something about Mark, a part of him that is so completely, utterly careless and reckless, that it never really stops frightening Eduardo. It's the same reason why Mark always pushes all the wrong buttons and annoys all the wrong people - not because he's petty or mean, but because he honestly doesn’t care what people could and would do to him. Mark doesn’t exactly try to get hurt, but he doesn’t always care to prevent it from happening either.
Slowly Eduardo approaches the edge of the roof.
"Rooftops?“ He says softly as not to startle Mark. "Really? What is it with you and rooftops?“
Mark shrugs and doesn‘t answer. But if possible he seems to hunch his shoulders little bit more.
He reminds Eduardo of a small bird trying to fluff up his feather in order to appear more solid and less breakable. It makes something ache deep in his stomach.
Slowly he lowers himself on the ground until he sits next to Mark.
For a while they are both quiet and the only thing audible is the sound of Mark’s fingers on the keyboard. Eduardo watches the sun rising. It's barely a soft orange shimmer behind the skyscrapers.
After a few minutes the typing becomes slower and less forceful, which is always a sign that Mark is ready to talk now.
"I’m sorry,“ Eduardo says without looking at him.
Mark stops typing all together. "For what?“
"I know it’s not about the money.“
Mark exhales slowly as if he has been holding his breath ever since Eduardo has appeared behind him. „Don’t…don’t apologize.“ He sounds dejected. "You always make me feel like an ass when you apologize and I don’t, because I hate apologizing. You know, I hate it."
Eduardo actually smiles at that. "Is that your version of saying that you’re sorry without actually saying ‚sorry‘?“
Mark shrugs again, but doesn’t deny it. „Maybe.“ Carefully he closes the lid of his laptop.
"Why the rooftops?“ Eduardo asks again, honestly curious.
"I wasn’t trying to jump or anything.“ Mark sounds careful and vaguely defensive.
"I know. So…why?“
Mark's long, pale fingers are splayed across the laptop, unusually still and unmoving. Eventually he sighs, sounding defeated. „You always seem to find people in mortal peril.“
"You’re not in mortal peril.“
"You think I'm in mortal peril when I don't eat enough vitamin C or forget to sleep."
A grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Okay. You've got a point."
Mark is quiet after this. His fingers play with the hem of his sleeve. "Do you remember the last time?" he asks eventually. His voice is soft, hesitant.
Eduardo doesn't even need to ask what he means.
The last time.
Because there's only one last time; at least only one in every sense that matters.
Do you remember the last we screwed it up?
"Yes."
"A lot of it was about Facebook, wasn't it?"
"Part of it. Maybe."
"It was", Mark insists. "Because I always felt like I had to decide between you and Facebook and you were impossible to reconcile and it sucked."
Eduardo nods carefully, unsure where this is going.
Of course he remembers.
Mark takes a deep breath. It sounds as if it hurts. "It must have been hard to compete against Facebook. But it’s also hard to compete against people whose lives need saving. You can’t…I can't ever win against that.“
Weiter gehts hier.
Challenge: Intimität: "Joker" (für mich), Inspiration von dieser Geschichte von keksdiebin
Fandom: The social Network
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo
Vorwort: Die AU, wo Eduardo Spiderman ist, einfach weil ... Andrew Garfield! <3
Warnungen: Angst und Kitsch - das übliche also. Und in englisch und NICHT gebetat. (Und im Halbschlaf geschrieben.)
Inhalt: "Rooftops? Really? What is it with you and rooftops?“
Direkte Fortsetzung zu diesem Teil.
When he comes back home it's early morning and the sky is a pale shade of gray and blue.
The bedroom is empty and Mark obviously hasn't slept here, since the bed is untouched. He isn't in the living room either and for a second Eduardo allows himself to panic.
Because despite everything he says Mark is a billionaire and people have tried to kidnap him before and Eduardo wasn't here, why wasn't he here…
Except then he remembers there's one other place he hasn't checked out yet. The thought alone reduces the mindless panic to a somewhat manageable hum of anxiety in the back of his throat.
Mark is on the roof.
On the fucking roof. Eduardo feels himself breathing again.
He sits close to the edge (way closer than Eduardo is comfortable with), a notebook on his lap and his legs dangling carelessly in thin air. He looks scarily relaxed for somebody who sits on the roof of a thirty-stories-building.
But even realizing that Mark isn’t in imminent danger of dropping to death doesn‘t stop Eduardo's heart from jumping into his throat.
There has always been something about Mark, a part of him that is so completely, utterly careless and reckless, that it never really stops frightening Eduardo. It's the same reason why Mark always pushes all the wrong buttons and annoys all the wrong people - not because he's petty or mean, but because he honestly doesn’t care what people could and would do to him. Mark doesn’t exactly try to get hurt, but he doesn’t always care to prevent it from happening either.
Slowly Eduardo approaches the edge of the roof.
"Rooftops?“ He says softly as not to startle Mark. "Really? What is it with you and rooftops?“
Mark shrugs and doesn‘t answer. But if possible he seems to hunch his shoulders little bit more.
He reminds Eduardo of a small bird trying to fluff up his feather in order to appear more solid and less breakable. It makes something ache deep in his stomach.
Slowly he lowers himself on the ground until he sits next to Mark.
For a while they are both quiet and the only thing audible is the sound of Mark’s fingers on the keyboard. Eduardo watches the sun rising. It's barely a soft orange shimmer behind the skyscrapers.
After a few minutes the typing becomes slower and less forceful, which is always a sign that Mark is ready to talk now.
"I’m sorry,“ Eduardo says without looking at him.
Mark stops typing all together. "For what?“
"I know it’s not about the money.“
Mark exhales slowly as if he has been holding his breath ever since Eduardo has appeared behind him. „Don’t…don’t apologize.“ He sounds dejected. "You always make me feel like an ass when you apologize and I don’t, because I hate apologizing. You know, I hate it."
Eduardo actually smiles at that. "Is that your version of saying that you’re sorry without actually saying ‚sorry‘?“
Mark shrugs again, but doesn’t deny it. „Maybe.“ Carefully he closes the lid of his laptop.
"Why the rooftops?“ Eduardo asks again, honestly curious.
"I wasn’t trying to jump or anything.“ Mark sounds careful and vaguely defensive.
"I know. So…why?“
Mark's long, pale fingers are splayed across the laptop, unusually still and unmoving. Eventually he sighs, sounding defeated. „You always seem to find people in mortal peril.“
"You’re not in mortal peril.“
"You think I'm in mortal peril when I don't eat enough vitamin C or forget to sleep."
A grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Okay. You've got a point."
Mark is quiet after this. His fingers play with the hem of his sleeve. "Do you remember the last time?" he asks eventually. His voice is soft, hesitant.
Eduardo doesn't even need to ask what he means.
The last time.
Because there's only one last time; at least only one in every sense that matters.
Do you remember the last we screwed it up?
"Yes."
"A lot of it was about Facebook, wasn't it?"
"Part of it. Maybe."
"It was", Mark insists. "Because I always felt like I had to decide between you and Facebook and you were impossible to reconcile and it sucked."
Eduardo nods carefully, unsure where this is going.
Of course he remembers.
Mark takes a deep breath. It sounds as if it hurts. "It must have been hard to compete against Facebook. But it’s also hard to compete against people whose lives need saving. You can’t…I can't ever win against that.“
Weiter gehts hier.