Relationship Status: It was always about you - Mark/Eduardo - NC17
PREVIOUS
--
Mark ends up on Eduardo's bed, wrapped in three blankets and Eduardo's arms.
"Sometimes I just don't know what to do with you," Eduardo mumbles with his mouth against Mark's ear.
Mark pushes his face into the pillows and tries to ignore the way his heart pounds. The pillows smell like Eduardo, sweet and spicy with a hint of citrus. It doesn't make his heart slow down.
--
Mark wakes up in the middle of the night, baking under the blankets and with Eduardo curled up against his back.
"Wardo," he whispers.
"I'm awake," Eduardo answers. "Don’t' even think about running again."
Mark is in Eduardo's bed, in Eduardo's arms, and friends don’t do that. Do they? Mark's not an expert on friendship, but he's pretty sure that cuddling isn't normally a part of it, but then this is Wardo, and he's not like anyone Mark ever met before.
He makes sure Mark eats, sleeps and drinks, and he doesn't complain when Mark only talks in monosyllabic grunts for days on end. He doesn't understand code, but he still wants to be Mark's friend. He defended Dustin but Mark was, in retrospect, behaving like an asshole.
"I'm an asshole," Mark says. His throat feels scratchy.
"Not all of the time," Eduardo answers.
Mark never figured himself to be the type to like cuddling, as opposed to just tolerating it, but this is nice - safe - and he doesn't really know what to do with that. He's too hot, face flushed and sweaty, but he doesn't want to move because if he does Eduardo might let go of him.
He thinks idly about going to sleep like this every night, tangled up in blankets and Eduardo's long limbs, and his stomach does some sort of flip-twist thing that makes him feel warm inside too. He tangles his fingers into the sheets and tries to go back to sleep, but he's wide awake now.
He starts talking, because he's safe here in this cocoon of blankets and arms. He can say whatever he wants. He tells Eduardo about Ben, and about high school, because he wants Eduardo to know, wants him to understand. He's not even sure Eduardo's still awake, but somehow it doesn't even matter. He just keeps talking until his voice turns hoarse and dawn creeps across the sheets.
Then he sleeps.
--
Mark apologizes to Dustin, grudgingly, and then he wires in, going on a 36-hour coding tear that Eduardo doesn't even try to pull him out of. He just shows up occasionally, making sure there's food and water; the rest of the time he leaves Mark to it.
TheFacebook goes live close to midnight on February 13th, 2004. Eduardo's there, sitting cross-legged on Mark's bed, with a bottle of beer clutched between his hands. Mark doesn't know where Chris and Dustin are. Maybe they decided to start the celebration early.
"That's it," Mark says, voice gravelly with lack of use. "It's live."
The link has been emailed to Eduardo's Phoenix Club mailing list and from now on it's a waiting game to see if anyone signs up. Mark looks away from the screen, swiveling his chair to face Eduardo. It's the first time he's looked at Eduardo's face since their little talk the other day.
Eduardo smiles and puts the empty bottle down on the floor. Mark flushes for no particular reason, thinking about the other night, and Eduardo's arm wrapped around him.
"Wanna go out for drinks?" Eduardo asks. "I'm paying."
Mark shakes his head, staring at the curve of Eduardo's mouth. He swivels the chair back to the computer and brings up his own TheFacebook profile. He stares at it for a moment, wondering if it's too much or if Eduardo's even going to notice.
He closes it down, turning back to face Eduardo; Eduardo's still smiling, hands clasped loosely on his lap, and his shirt gaping open at the neck. Mark stares at the shadowed line of his collarbone and wonders what it tastes like. There's a lump of nerves at the pit of his stomach and his fingers are itching to bring up his profile and remove the code tweak that makes sure Mark's profile doesn't look like anyone else's.
He could say it out loud, or write it on a note and slip it under Eduardo's door. He could hire a plane and write it across the sky, or he could ask Eduardo out, properly, on a date. He doesn't do either of those things. Instead he lies down on the bed and waits for Eduardo to stretch out beside him, like he does sometimes when he wants to make sure Mark stays in bed and doesn't sneak back to the computer.
"Tell me a story," Mark mumbles, settling down on his stomach with his arms tucked in under the pillow.
His bed is too narrow for two people, Eduardo a warm line against his side.
"About what?" Eduardo asks.
Mark closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Tell me about your father."
Eduardo does, in slow, halting sentences, expanding on a story that is probably as old as humanity. "I just want to make him proud," Eduardo sighs, voice tense. "But sometimes it feels like… whatever I do, it'll never be enough."
"Then he's an idiot," Mark mutters, halfway into the pillow. "He should be proud of you all the time."
Eduardo doesn't answer, but Mark can feel him relaxing against his back.
--
Mark Zuckerberg
Relationship Status: Single
Interested In: Eduardo Saverin
--
Mark hates Valentine's Day. HATES IT!
"So, Christy asked me out."
Mark's fingers slip across the keys, adding a nonsense string of letters to his code tweak. "Oh," he says. "Are you going?"
Eduardo shrugs. Mark clenches his teeth together and brings up his profile. It takes less than five seconds to erase the code that it took days to be brave enough to add.
"Have fun," he says tightly, reaching for his headphones.
Mark really hates Valentine's Day.
--
"You removed it."
Dustin face looks like an emoticon, a sad emoticon with a lone tear on its cheek.
"Wardo's going out with Christy."
"Oh." Dustin's face looks even more depressed, like a kicked puppy or a wet kitten. "Did he see it?"
Mark shrugs.
--
For the first time in Mark's life coding doesn't make his brain shut up, instead it only serves as a backdrop for his increasingly morose thoughts about Eduardo and Christy. He sees Eduardo's lips against hers, Eduardo's golden fingers tangled in her long black hair, he sees her ankles linking behind the small of Eduardo's back while Eduardo…
Mark pushes back from the computer with a snort of disgust. He's hard and miserable and most likely too much of an asshole to deserve Eduardo anyway. He wonders if Christy knows about Eduardo's father, if she understands like Mark does, if she wants to wring his neck like Mark does. He wonders if she'll give herself completely like Mark would, and if she'll love him… like Mark does.
--
Chris and Dustin are on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn between them, watching some stupid movie. Mark sinks down onto the edge of the couch, staring blindly at the TV screen.
"I'm…" He swallows and takes a deep breath. "I really, really like Wardo," he says. It feels huge, monumental, to admit it out loud, as if the air has been sucked out of the room and his chest is too small for his heart. "And… uh… TheFacebook gained almost 100 followers overnight."
'Recognition', Mark thinks. 'Acceptance. Fame.'
He repeats it over and over in his head, like a broken string of code or a repeating algorithm. He's on the verge of realizing all of his dreams, he knows that he is, so why does it all feel so… pointless. He should have hired that plane; then at least he'd have known for sure Eduardo saw it.
Chris reaches out to touch his hand, but Mark yanks it away, shaking his head. "I'm going out," he says.
--
He ends up at the coffee shop, sitting at his table with the laptop open before him. He's looking at the user statistics, watching the number of users grow by the minute as TheFacebook ripples across campus. He's nursing a cup of coffee, the first one he ever paid for in here.
"Awesome job with TheFacebook," someone says, giving Mark a thumbs up. Mark thinks that maybe they have a class together.
"What's TheFacebook?" someone else asks, and Mark watches as someone pulls up a laptop and TheFacebook grows.
Mark pens down his very first status update: I'm watching history unfold.
He curls his cold fingers around the red clunky coffee cup and thinks about Eduardo pelting him in the head with a sugar package, Eduardo sleeping on the bench along the wall, Eduardo making coffee and plying Mark with cookies; Eduardo smiling, and laughing, and curling his fingers around Mark's shoulder.
Mark borrows a pen from the counter and grabs a napkin from the dispenser. It takes ten seconds to pen down his message.
He swings by Eduardo's dorm on his way back to Kirkland and slips the napkin under the door without knocking. Then he goes home, dumps the laptop on the table, and faceplants onto the bed.
--
When Mark wakes up it is dark outside and Eduardo is in bed with him. Mark blinks a couple of times, but Eduardo's still there, eyes dark and liquid in the sparse light. The TV is running in the living room, and he can hear someone banging around the kitchenette. The toilet flushes, the floorboards creak and Eduardo's still right there.
"How was your date?" Mark asks, because that's what friends do, or so he's been told.
Eduardo barks out a short laugh and holds up the napkin. "What's this?" he asks.
"A napkin," Mark says.
It's wrinkled and the letters have bleed into the material, but Mark can still read what it says.
It was always about you.
"Mark." Eduardo blows out a breath. "You know what I mean."
"Well, if you don't know what I mean then what the hell are you doing here?" Mark counters. "You were on a date," he adds, because he thinks it's important to point that out.
Eduardo scrubs a hand through his hair. "Mark…"
"A date."
"Fine." Eduardo rolls over on his back and crosses his arms over his chest. "And how long are you going to punish me for that?"
"Depends on how long you're gonna keep dating her," Mark says, because obviously he's in love with an idiot.
Eduardo blows out a breath through his teeth and curses in Portuguese. "I'm not dating her," he says. "We had one drink."
"That's one too many," Mark says stubbornly.
"Mark."
"Wardo."
They meet in the middle. It's awkward and fumbly and Mark doesn't know what to do with his hands, but Eduardo kisses like he means it, cupping Mark's face between his palms and pressing tiny kisses to his lips until Mark finally gets the hint and parts them for Eduardo's tongue. It's slick and slow and Mark wraps his arms around Eduardo's back, fisting his hands into Eduardo's shirt.
It's odd and a bit slimy and Eduardo has enough stubble to make the skin around Mark's mouth burn, but it's also the hottest thing that ever happened to Mark, hands down. Eduardo's mouth tastes a bit like beer and a lot like him and Mark feels the flare of desire down to his toes.
"God, you're so…" Eduardo mumbles, sinking his fingers into Mark's curls. "Jesus."
Mark makes a noise, it's very undignified, and digs his fingers into Eduardo's back. Eduardo kisses him again, lazy and thorough, licking the roof of his mouth, his teeth, his tongue.
"I wonder how many users TheFacebook has now," Mark says when they break apart and Eduardo buries his laughter into Mark's neck. It's kind of perfect.
"You can check if you want," Eduardo says. "I don't mind."
Mark licks his lips and stares at the curve of Eduardo's mouth. He wonders if it's a trick question.
"Go on," Eduardo says, giving Mark's shoulder a light shove. "Check it."
Mark has just settled into his desk chair when Dustin sticks his head in through the half open door. "We're ordering Chinese," he says. "Want some?"
"Sure," Eduardo says.
He's spread out over Mark's bed, hands folded beneath his head and his shirt rucked up across his stomach. Dustin looks at him and then at Mark, who flushes helplessly, and then back at Eduardo.
"Chris," he shouts. "You owe me money, bitch."
Chris appears in the doorway too, giving Eduardo a narrow eyed look. "Oh, fuck you," he says.
Eduardo laughs and flips them off, and Mark blushes some more.
"645 registered users," he says, biting down on his lower lip. "And growing by the minute."
He lets Eduardo pull him back down on the bed and they spend the time until the food arrives lazily making out with the door still open. Then they sit next to each other on the couch, eating Chinese food and watching whatever movie happens to be on. Mark has no idea what the plot is, except that it seems to be centered on a ferret, and his stomach flutters every time Eduardo touches him.
It's a good night, easily the best he’s ever had.
--
TheFacebook spreads like wildfire and within two weeks it's all over campus and Mark is famous. Not that Mark cares much; he always knew he had it in him. Instead he spends most of his time wired in, fixing bugs and tweaking code, to make sure that the site continues to run smoothly.
"I spend so much time talking to your back that sometimes I see a mouth between your shoulder blades," Eduardo remarks one morning.
He's spread out on Mark's bed, surrounded by textbooks, and he doesn't sound angry but it still makes Mark's fingers falter against the keys. He looks over the code and hits Ctrl + S before swiveling around to face Eduardo.
"Hey," he says.
Eduardo grins, dropping his book to the bed. "Hey."
It's a good thing, Mark thinks, that Eduardo doesn't seem to realize just how much of Mark's attention he has these days because it could potentially mean bad things for TheFacebook. It's like Mark partitioned his brain, there's one part dedicated to TheFacebook and code and occasionally schoolwork, and there's one part dedicated solely to Eduardo.
Eduardo slides off the bed and plants himself on Mark's lap, legs dangling on either sides of his thighs, and it might just be the hottest thing that ever happened to Mark. Mark slips his hands around Eduardo's waist, pressing his fingers into the small of his back, and Eduardo leans forward, resting their foreheads together.
His breath is warm and spicy against Mark's face, hands tight on Mark's shoulders, and Mark tilts his head back, bringing their lips together. They kiss for a while, slow and sweet and so fucking good. Eduardo links his hands against Mark's neck and Mark curls his hands around Eduardo's slim hips, pulling him in closer.
Mark's so hard it almost hurts, and he would maybe feel embarrassed about that if he didn't know Eduardo is just as hard, cock straining against the impeccable cut of his pants. He kisses the corner of Eduardo's mouth, his jaw, the long line of his neck and Eduardo tilts his head back with a choked-off groan, fingers digging into Mark's skin.
"Don't," he murmurs weakly, biting down hard on his lower lip when Mark licks at his collarbone.
Mark slides his hands down, cupping the perfect globes of Eduardo's ass and he wants. He just wants so damned much.
"No," Eduardo says, and Mark lets go of him so fast he almost topples over.
"Sorry," he mutters, wrapping his arms around Eduardo's waist and leaning his forehead against his immensely tempting collarbone.
"I have class," Eduardo says, his voice low and rough, making Mark's stomach tighten with another bout of helpless need.
"Okay," Mark says, swallowing thickly.
Mark really needs a relationship handbook, because he's pretty sure he's doing something wrong. Eduardo keeps cockblocking them and sure, they said they'd take it slow, but there's slow and then there's dead.
"You should come over to my place tonight," Eduardo says, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of Mark's neck.
Mark makes a noncommittal sound. He's not overly fond of Eduardo's dorm and the WiFi reception is crap.
"Or you could come here," he says and Eduardo makes a pained sound against his ear.
"Seriously, Mark," he mutters. "Do I need to send a gold-embossed invitation?"
Mark lifts his head to look at him. Eduardo's face is red, even his ears are glowing, Mark frowns. Eduardo glances at the door, left ajar as usual, and bites down on his lower lip.
"I don't like your dorm," Mark says. "It's depressing."
"I have a single," Eduardo enunciates, and Mark thinks that's a really weird emphasis because that's exactly why Eduardo's dorm is depressing. That and the communal kitchen -- Mark hates that place, people yell at him when he takes things from the fridge.
Eduardo chuckles, but it sounds more tired than amused, and slips off Mark's lap, gathering his books from the bed.
"See you after class," he says, coming over to press a kiss against Mark's temple and then he's gone. Mark touches his fingers to the spot Eduardo kissed for a moment and stares after him.
--
Mark spends most of the day in a coding daze, they're already thinking about expanding to other schools and he needs everything to be perfect, but Eduardo manages to lure him out in to the living room for dinner and later to bed. Mark's bed isn't built for two people, but it's not as if he minds cuddling. He's found that the nights Eduardo doesn't stay over, he simply doesn't go to sleep until he faceplants onto the keyboard, because the bed feels too empty without him.
They kiss for a while, slick and lazy, and Mark slips his hands in under Eduardo's shirt to palm at his stomach.
"Mark," Eduardo hisses when Mark's fingers stray dangerously close to the waistband of his shorts, and Mark makes an apologetic sound, moving his hands to Eduardo's back instead.
"It's like you don't even want to have sex with me," he mutters.
"Seriously," Eduardo says. "Why do you think I keep trying to get you to come to my dorm? Not to show you my etchings, that's for sure."
"You have…"
"No, Mark, I don't have etchings."
"But why can't we have sex here?"
Mark knows he's whining, but he likes his bed, and it's not like Chris or Dustin never had sex in their rooms. It's the sort of thing you get used to when you share with two other guys. Eduardo doesn't answer for a moment, winding Mark's worn t-shirt around his fingers. Mark can't see his face clearly in the dim light, but he can feel Eduardo's face flushing hot against his.
"Wardo?"
"I'm loud, okay?" Eduardo hisses. "I… uh… get kinda… uhm… noisy when… and I would like to be able to look Chris and Dustin in the eye again."
"Oh," Mark says, because he's so turned on he can't breathe much less form coherent words.
"That's… uh… that's okay, right?"
Eduardo actually sounds unsure, as if he somehow missed all of Mark's blood relocating south.
"Yes," Mark says weakly. "Yes, that is…"
Eduardo kisses him and it's different this time, messy and desperate, hungry in a way they never let themselves be. Then Mark is pressing him into the bed and his hand is in Eduardo's shorts and Eduardo is making all this noise into his mouth. Mark doesn't give himself time to think about it, doesn't stop to marvel at the feel of Eduardo's dick in his hand, hard and slick, doesn't try to compare or work out a good angle. He just forms his hand into a fist and pulls, fast and rough, coaxing choked-off desperate moans from Eduardo's gorgeous lips.
It doesn't take long, a minute, maybe three, and Eduardo is arching up, pushing hard into his hand, semen spilling over Eduardo's stomach and Mark's fingers, slimy and amazing. Eduardo buries his deep groan of completion into Mark's sweaty neck and his entire body shudders with the aftershocks. Mark kisses him, slick and off kilter, and doesn't let himself say any of the things bubbling up inside.
"Was that okay?" he asks instead, because it occurs to him that Eduardo might not actually have meant the kiss as an invitation to be molested. It comes out a lot more hesitant and unsure than Mark would have liked it.
"Was that… Jesus, Mark," Eduardo pants, and then Mark is on his back and Eduardo's hand is on his dick and he comes so fast and so hard he sees stars. It's embarrassing, really.
Eduardo, ever the practical one, gets a towel from the bathroom to clean them off. He looks kind of ridiculous, with his t-shirt barely reaching below his ass and no pants, but also, really, really hot. Something big and fluttery expands in Mark's chest and he hides his face into the pillows, cheeks flushing hot with something he can't even put a name to.
--
Having sex, Mark soon realizes, is like opening Pandora's box (or the candy store, if you ask Dustin). He was pretty ridiculous about Eduardo to begin with but this is something else all together. He just can't stop touching him, kissing him, coaxing beautiful, beautiful noises from his gorgeous amazing lips. No matter where he is, or what he's doing, some part of his brain is always calculating when, where and how he can get his hands on Eduardo next. It's terrifying and exhilarating in about equal measures and Mark doesn't know how to deal.
--
I have to go home. My dad had a heart attack.
The text is waiting for Mark when he comes out of a coding daze and when he tries to call Eduardo back the call goes to voice mail. It doesn't take many minutes to find out that Eduardo Saverin is booked on a flight to Miami, Florida that is currently airborne. Another few minutes tells him that Victor Saverin was admitted to Mercy Hospital at 7 AM, he stops his research there. It would feel wrong, somehow, to know more about Victor's condition than Eduardo most likely does at the moment.
He sends off a quick text. I'm sorry to hear that. Call me when you can talk.
It doesn't feel like nearly enough and he huffs out an annoyed breath, pushing the phone across the desk. If there's anything Mark hates, it's waiting.
--
It's almost midnight when Eduardo finally calls. He sounds exhausted, voice rough and scratchy, but it seems that his dad is going to be fine.
"New meds, less stress and more long walks in the sunshine," Eduardo says, trying to make light of it, but Mark can hear the fear hidden underneath his flippant words.
"I'm just not ready to lose him," Eduardo mumbles later, voice hitching, and Mark knows that's closer to the truth. He's never felt so useless in his life.
--
Eduardo stays in Miami for a week. It's easily the longest week of Mark's life. TheFacebook is expanding, opening up at Stanford, Columbia and Yale, but not even that is enough to keep Mark from noticing that Eduardo isn't there.
He feels Eduardo's absence like a missing limb and having Eduardo somewhere else and hurting makes him testy and snappish to the point that Chris won't even talk to him. Mark's not used to caring about another person to the extent that he wants them to be happy all the time and it puts him off balance.
This isn't something he can fix, not even with the best will in the world, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. He tries; he texts and calls and sends funny emails and he even talks to Eduardo's professors for him, feeling stupid and infinitely small with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he asks for assignments and makes excuses, but he knows that it isn't enough, that it isn't even close to enough, and he doesn't know if he can spend the rest of his life feeling this useless whenever Eduardo's in pain.
--
Eduardo comes back on late on a Sunday night. Mark's camped out on Eduardo's bed with his laptop across his knees when the door opens and Eduardo walks in. He starts when he sees Mark, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, and Mark worries at his lower lip.
"I… uh… the spare key was at our place," Mark mutters, putting the laptop on the nightstand.
Eduardo drops his bag on the floor and pushes the door shut behind him. "Hi," he says.
He looks exhausted, dark circles around his eyes and a frown etched into the skin between his brows. Mark's chest aches and he wonders if maybe he made a mistake in coming here. He never knows how to deal with people when they're not okay.
He swallows and slides off the bed. "I can go," he murmurs. "If you'd rather be alone."
Eduardo's only answer is to cross the floor and fling himself into Mark's arms, pressing his face into Mark's neck. Mark holds him tight, curling his fingers into Eduardo's suit jacket. He wishes he was taller - bigger - wishes he could extend the reach of his arms to protect Eduardo from ever getting hurt again. It's a terrifying thought.
"I missed you," Eduardo says. He smells like airplane and perfume. Mark holds him tighter.
--
That night Mark fucks Eduardo for the first time.
"Is this okay?" Mark asks, watching Eduardo's face as he slowly, so very slowly, slips a finger into Eduardo's body for the first time. "You have done this before, right?"
Eduardo chokes out a laugh. "Yes and yes," he says, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.
Eduardo's tight and silky hot on the inside; it seems impossible that Mark will even fit.
"Crook your finger… oh yes there."
Eduardo's stomach muscles ripple and his hips lift of the bed, precome trickling thin and viscous from his cock.
"Two," Eduardo says tightly. "Do two."
Mark pulls out and adds more lube before pushing back inside with two fingers. Eduardo moans, his eyes fluttering shut, and it's a very real possibility that Mark will come from just watching him. He crooks his fingers slightly, looking for that spot again. Eduardo shudders when he finds it, helpless noises spilling from his lips.
Mark kisses the inside of his thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out in time with Eduardo's harsh pants.
"Three," Eduardo gasps. "I want…"
Three is a tight fit, Eduardo's body clenching down on him, but Eduardo's cock is still hard and he's keening low in his throat, body taut as a bowstring.
"God," Eduardo moans. "Mark."
His face is flushed red, eyes closed, and he's got his bottom lip between his teeth again. He bears down with his hips on Mark's every slow thrust, moans punched out through his nose. Mark spreads his fingers slightly and Eduardo arches up letting out a guttural groan.
"Now Mark," he pants. "You have to…"
Mark rubs his fingers over that spot, making Eduardo trail off into desperate curses, cock jerking against his stomach.
"Please," Eduardo pants. "Please, Mark, just…"
Mark's fingers tremble as he clumsily rolls the condom on and slicks himself up, before crawling up Eduardo's body to kiss his bitten lips.
"You sure?" he asks shakily, reaching down to hold his cock against Eduardo's opening.
"Fuck yeah," Eduardo mumbles, opening his eyes to look up at Mark.
Mark holds his breath as he pushes forward, watching Eduardo's face for any sign of pain.
"You have to push harder," Eduardo pants, reaching up to tangle one of his hands into Mark's curls. "You won't hurt me."
Mark swallows and nods tightly. It feels a little bit like an exam he didn't study nearly enough for. He wraps his hand hard around the base of his cock and pushes against Eduardo's opening again. This time the head slips past the initial resistance and they both moan, Eduardo's fingers tightening convulsively in Mark's hair.
"Fuck," Mark curses, hips stuttering helplessly. It takes everything he has to hold back.
He can feel Eduardo's chest heaving against his, slick with sweat, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Eduardo's open mouth. Slowly, so very slowly he slides deeper, until his hand ends up squished between their bodies.
"'S okay," Eduardo slurs. "More."
Mark moves his hand so that he's braced on his elbows, pushing forward until he bottoms out. He stays there, panting harshly against Eduardo's face, thighs trembling with the effort of holding still.
"You can move," Eduardo gasps, lifting himself up to kiss Mark.
Mark starts out slow with shallow measured thrusts that make him feel as if his spine has been electrified.
"More," Eduardo moans, wrapping his legs around Mark's back. "You can… more."
"Wardo," Mark groans helplessly, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Fuck, I'm not going to…"
It feels like magic, like finishing TheFacebook and kissing Eduardo for the very first time. It's huge and amazing and Mark is inside Eduardo and he's not even going to last two minutes. Eduardo keeps making these noises, as if he's feeling so good he just can't help himself, his hips lifting up to meet every thrust.
"Fuck Mark," he groans. "You have to… I'm going to…"
Then Eduardo's hand is between them, jerking his cock desperately, and Mark has to pull back, has to see, and that makes Eduardo's moan trail into a shout, body convulsing.
"Yes… Yes… there… just… ooooh."
Mark struggles to hold back, gripping Eduardo's hips and pulling him into his thrusts while Eduardo's hand flies over his slick swollen cock. It's the hottest thing Mark’s ever seen, Eduardo's chest shining with sweat, the flushed head of his cock peeking out of his tight fist, Eduardo's head lolling against the pillows.
"Mark… I'm… fuck… Maaark."
Mark's name has never sounded hotter than it does choked out in that moment, garbled with the force of Eduardo's orgasm and it's only moments before Mark follows him over the edge, coming so hard the edges of his vision blur.
"Holy shit," he pants, collapsing on top of Eduardo.
He tries to keep his weight off Eduardo's chest as he pulls out and disposes of the condom, balancing precariously on one elbow, but Eduardo doesn't seem to mind, one long leg still wrapped across Mark's bony hip and his hands tangled into Mark's sweaty hair.
"I love you," Eduardo mumbles, a blissed out smile on his face.
Mark's heart stutters and swells and his cheeks flush even brighter. "It doesn't count if you say it after sex," he mutters, because he read that somewhere.
"I'll just have to remind you later then," Eduardo says, pulling Mark down for a kiss.
--
Mark doesn't sleep that night, he sits next to Eduardo with his laptop, coding until his fingertips ache with it, pausing to run his fingers through Eduardo's tangled hair every time he as much as stirs. He wants to run, fast and far, run until his legs give out and his lungs cave in, but he stays, watching over Eduardo as he sleeps.
--
Eduardo looks better in the morning, face not quite as drawn, and he smiles as he looks up at Mark.
"Did you sleep at all?" he asks, reaching out to touch one of Mark's wrists.
"Wasn't tired," Mark lies. Eduardo tugs lightly on his wrist, Mark pulls his hand away. "I have class," he mumbles.
--
Mark feels like an asshole as he snoozes his way through the Art History class he never attends if he can help it. Eduardo's face as he left was a pictured of sleep-rumbled bewilderment, eyes huge and hurt.
Mark isn't completely emotionally stunted, he knows what this is. He knows why his chest feels squished when Eduardo isn't near, he knows why he wants Eduardo to be happy all the time, he knows why he stayed up all night to watch Eduardo sleep as if he's some sort of nightmare-banishing knight, and he knows why his stomach flutters every time Eduardo smiles.
He's in love and it's the worst best thing to ever happen to him.
--
Eduardo's still in bed when Mark comes back, he must have been even more exhausted than Mark thought. He blinks sleepily up at Mark when he crawls into bed, a smile creeping onto his face.
"You came back," he says, as if he wasn't sure Mark would.
Mark kisses him in response.
--
It bothers Mark that Eduardo hasn't changed his relationship status. He stares at Eduardo's page every day, but that particular status never changes. Single, it says. Mocking him.
--
In early May Mark meets Sean Parker for the first time and things pick up speed. Within weeks TheFacebook becomes Facebook has interns and they (Mark, Dustin, Chris and the interns) are renting a house in Palo Alto for the summer. It's exhilarating, all of Mark's dreams coming to fruition, but other things are… not that easy.
--
"Where's Wardo?" Dustin asks.
"Dunno," Mark mutters, staring intently at his screen, trying to ignore the fact that Dustin is gaping at him from the doorway. "He has some… thing."
"A thing? What kind of thing?"
"Some meeting? I don't fucking know, okay?"
The anger wells up, hot like molten lava, and Mark clenches his hands around the edge of the desk to keep from punching Dustin in the face.
"Oookay, excuse me for asking," Dustin says, his face disappearing from the doorway.
Mark relaxes gradually, his grip of the desk turning from white-knuckled to just tight. He knows exactly where Eduardo is, he's at the bar with Christy, ostensibly to study, but the last time Mark checked, bars were not ideal for studying.
"Okay, spill."
It's Chris this time, coming in to perch at the edge of Mark's bed. Mark ignores him, staring at the useless data rolling past on the screen.
"Mark."
"He's with Christy, okay?" Mark says tightly, figuring it's better to nip the conversation in the bud than to let it drag on.
"Doing what?"
"Studying," Mark mutters. "At the bar."
"They're studying at the bar?"
"That is weird, right?" Mark spins around. "It's not just me."
He cuts himself off, face flushing. He knows he just gave way too much away. Things have been tense with Eduardo lately, weird. The only time Eduardo fully relaxes is after sex, boneless and warm in Mark's arms, the rest of the time he's uncharacteristically snappish and stressed. He's got a lot on his plate with finals coming up and a big internship in New York, but Mark can't help feeling as if he's losing him - losing everything.
It doesn't help that Eduardo hates Sean, calling him Prince Charming with an unusual bite to his tone, or that he rekindled his friendship with Christy, who is sweet and pretty and female and everything Mark isn't.
"I don't know," Chris says, with a shrug. "Maybe they study better with alcohol. I know I wish I could be drunk for most of my lectures."
But he looks sad, as if he can tell that Mark is fucking this up too and doesn't know how to let him down easy. Mark nods tightly and turns back to the computer, pulling his headphones on and wiring in. He doesn't hear Chris leave.
--
Eduardo comes back late, smelling like beer and flowery perfume. Mark fucks him into the mattress, biting marks into his neck and chest, digging his teeth hard into his shoulder. Eduardo is boneless and pliant afterwards, curling easily into Mark's arm, but Mark still has that tight feeling in his chest; it's becoming a permanent fixture.
--
Mark spends his last day at Harvard in bed with Eduardo. They talk and fuck and kiss and fuck. Mark presses bruises into Eduardo's golden skin, trying to stake his claim, but he knows that the bruises will fade with Eduardo on the other side of the country.
Eduardo sucks a hickey into his neck, claws scratches into his skin, he arches his back and comes with Mark's name on his lips, but it's not enough, it will never be enough.
"I will miss you," Mark whispers, much later, when the sun is long set. He curls his fingers into Eduardo's stupid hair, holding on tight. "I love you so much."
Eduardo's only answer is a soft snore and in the morning they kiss goodbye by the door. "I'll miss you," Eduardo murmurs, lips slick against Mark's.
Mark grunts in response, digging his fingers into Eduardo's hips. He wishes he was a little less scared.
--
Palo Alto is hot and on the second day Mark gets wicked sunburn on his knees from coding by the pool with his legs in the sun. He whines to Eduardo over the phone, because it's easier to complain about second degree burns than to admit just how much he misses him.
Two days later a package arrives in the mail with After Sun Care Lotion and a bottle of SPF150 sunscreen. A note in Eduardo's loopy handwriting says: Don't damage the goods.. It makes Mark laugh and hope that maybe this will work after all.
--
Facebook keeps expanding and without Eduardo around to discourage him, Mark spends days wired in, only coming out of the daze when his stomach screams with hunger and his fingers falter against the keys. He starts missing Eduardo's calls, not by choice but because he doesn't notice the phone ringing, and when he's awake enough to call back it's in the middle of the night in New York.
He sends emails instead, long and rambling, about nothing at all and he hopes that Eduardo can read between the lines and realize how much Mark is floundering without him. He ends every email with I love you, but erases it before he hits send. He doesn't want to enter those words into a vacuum; he wants to be brave enough to whisper them into Eduardo's skin.
--
It's not easy, because even when they do talk Mark doesn't know the right words to say and with every conversation Eduardo gets a little more distant and a little more guarded. He starts talking about new people, Paul and Jake and Lindsay and Marcus. He goes out for drinks with them, hangs out with them, and Mark pictures them as picture perfect pod-people much better suited for someone like Eduardo than Mark in his rag-tag hoodies, and the right words slip even further away.
Mark doesn't know how to talk about his emotions. He tries, calling his mom for practice, but when he mutters that he loves her, grudgingly, she nearly gets on the next plane to Palo Alto to make sure he's okay. He tells his sisters that he misses them and they call every day for a week to make sure he's not suicidal.
He tells Eduardo about Facebook and coding, about that movie Chris made him watch and how many times he's beat Dustin's PacMan high score. He doesn't say, I miss you, and he doesn't say, I love you. He says, I really miss having sex on a regular basis, and, I wish someone around here cared about feeding me, but it's not the same and the fact that he's fucking this up flashes in big neon letters before his eyes every time he hangs up.
--
"Mark, can I talk to you for a minute?" Chris asks one night, and Mark follows him out on the sundeck even if he doesn't want to. When people say they want to talk to him using that particular voice it rarely means good things.
It's a warm night, like every night in Palo Alto, and Chris leans his elbows against the railing, staring at the lit-up pool.
"Wardo didn't know you before," Chris says without looking at Mark. "He doesn't know how much you've changed."
Mark clamps his mouth shut over his instinctual response that would probably make Chris yell at him and leans back against the wall of the house. It's hot and scratchy against his back, rucking up the thin cotton of his t-shirt. It makes him think of Eduardo's nails digging into his skin and he flushes, looking down on his bare feet against the deck. His toes are dirty and there's a scratch over the top of his left foot from where he stumbled over a discarded bottle.
"Mark," Chris says, turning around to lean against the railing, eyes on Mark's downturned face. "You have to learn how to talk to him, because he can't read your mind. No one can."
"He called you," Mark says tightly, anger flaring up white-hot.
Chris sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair. "I wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't care about the both of you," he says. "And I'm telling you this as a friend. You have to talk to him."
Mark shakes his head angrily and pushes away from the wall. "I can't believe he called you," he says.
"Mark… Mark."
Mark ignores him, pushing his way into the mayhem inside. He grabs a bottle of whiskey out of Dustin's hands, ignoring his outcry of protest, and drinks straight from the bottle on his way to his bedroom. It burns like acid going down, setting his throat on fire, but he doesn't even care.
He drinks steadily, forcing down mouthful after mouthful until half the bottle is gone and the room is spinning. Then he calls Eduardo.
--
In the morning he wakes up on the bathroom floor with his phone in a pile of vomit. It's probably not a good sign.
--
Chris looks at him funny when he shuffles into the kitchen and orders one of the interns to clean his phone, and for once Mark doesn't think it's because he's abusing his power.
"What?" he says, when the intern has scurried out clutching Mark's phone between his fingertips.
Chris smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching. "For the record," he says. "Try not to pass out drunk while talking to your boyfriend in the future. He was very upset."
Mark flushes, pulling the fridge open and staring at the meager contents. Doesn't anyone around here grocery shop?
"I'm glad you left the door unlocked or he would have made me break it down."
Mark locates a jar of tuna at the back of the fridge and one lone fork in the cutlery drawer. The kitchen looks like a pig sty, bottles and dirty dishes everywhere; takeout containers in a pile on the stove, bags, boxes and empty cans of Red Bull on the floor.
"Someone should clean this mess up," he says, giving the other intern, James, a meaningful look.
"Mark," Chris sighs, but Mark ignores him, heading back towards his bedroom.
He probably didn't make Eduardo too mad if he made Chris check on him. He can't remember much after the first few seconds of screaming but when he, very reluctantly, checked the call log he found that they talked for over two hours and he probably didn't spend all of that time throwing up.
--
Somewhere around midday he sends off an email to Eduardo: I'm sorry if I verbally abused you. I just miss you a whole lot.
It's not much, but he figures it's a start.
--
Mark spends all day coding, not surfacing until late at night. To his surprise it's raining, water beating against the window panes, sending light reflections in odd patterns against the walls. There's noise coming from the living room, probably another party starting up, and he pushes up from the chair intent on saving the Red Bull before someone starts mixing it with vodka.
He promptly forgets all about the Red Bull once he wanders into the living room because Eduardo is there, arguing about whatever with Sean. (Probably something ridiculous, they don't agree on anything.) Eduardo is soaked to the bone, his shirt clinging to his skin and his hair flattened against his forehead. He's so beautiful Mark can't breathe right.
"Wardo," he says, reaching out to touch and Eduardo spins around pinning with Mark with a stare that is downright scary.
"You," he says, pointing an accusing finger at Mark's face. "Just… shut up."
Then he grabs Mark by his ears and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Mark is getting very mixed signals here.
--
Mark finds himself manhandled into his bedroom, standing uncertainly in the middle of the floor while Eduardo slams the door shut behind them and locks it tight.
"Dustin," Eduardo says loudly. "If you even think about listening at the door I will skin you alive."
There's a muffled sound from outside and then moments later the door to the living room bangs shut, cutting off the music. Eduardo turns around slowly, dropping his bag on the floor and shrugging out of his jacket.
Mark shifts his feet, biting at his lower lip. Eduardo looks lethal and he's kind of wondering what the fuck he said last night.
"Uh… what are you doing here?" He asks. "Not that I'm not happy to see you," he adds quickly. "Because I am really happy to see you."
Eduardo just shakes his head and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Mark stares dumbly and the revealed inches of golden skin, breath quickening when the shirt joins the jacket on the floor. He stares at Eduardo's dusky nipples, pebbled from the rain, and wonders if he's allowed to touch. Eduardo has an amazing body, tall and lean, with just the right amount of definition. Mark twitches when Eduardo's belt joins the pile on the floor.
"Should I… uh… undress?" he asks, pulling at the hem of his frayed t-shirt.
Eduardo kicks off his shoes and balances on one leg to pull off his socks, even his feet are beautiful.
"So… uhm… I probably didn't mean everything I said last night."
Eduardo stops undressing, fingers stilling on the waistband of his pants. He looks up, eyes boring into Mark's. Mark flushes, but he's not sure why.
"So tell me," he says, advancing on Mark in a way that makes him back up until his knees connect with the edge of the bed. "Which parts was it that you didn't mean?"
"Uh… the bad parts?"
"You mean like calling me an asshole, accusing me of cheating with Christy and yelling irate nonsense about relationship statuses at me for thirty five minutes."
"Yeah," Mark says. "That part… Unless you actually are cheating with Christy because then I will yell at you some more."
Eduardo pushes him down on the bed. Mark's back bounces against the springs, making the bed creak in protest, and he blinks up at Eduardo uncertainly. He's not sure where this is going at all.
"You are so fucking infuriating Mark," Eduardo says, chucking his pants. "I don't know what to do with you."
Mark swallows, staring at Eduardo's lean thighs. "Love me," he suggests weakly.
Eduardo pauses with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his boxer briefs. "That was sort of the plan," he says, peeling the wet material down his legs.
Eduardo's hard, his cock curling up towards his stomach when it slips free of the damp material and Mark is really very confused now. He knows he's not the best at reading people but this is just weird.
"You're very attractive," he says, shifting his gaze to Eduardo's face.
Eduardo stares at him for a moment and then he starts laughing, which is not really the reaction Mark was hoping for. Then Eduardo's pulling him off the bed and into his arms, pressing soft, soft kisses to Mark's mouth, even though his shoulders are still shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Oh Mark," he says and hugs Mark tight.
Mark wonders if this means they're not having sex, because he was kind of looking forward to that. It's been three weeks and Mark's right hand doesn't have half the skill of Eduardo's everything.
"I'm confused," Mark confesses, slipping his arms around Eduardo's slim waist.
Mark breathes against Eduardo's neck, he smells like airplane and cologne and distantly like peppermint. He thinks back on the last three weeks and holds Eduardo a little tighter.
"I missed you a lot," he murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut because somehow that makes it a lot less embarrassing.
"Yeah," Eduardo says and it sounds mostly like a sigh.
"And I know I'm not good at the relationship stuff, or… uhm… anything but coding and being a smartass really… but… uhm…" He takes a deep breath. "I do love you, kind of a lot, and… if I had to choose between you and… uhm… Facebook…" Another deep breath. "I would choose you but pleasedon'tmakemechoose and I'm trying, you know, to get better at this… but you're not here and uhm…"
"Mark," Eduardo says, his voice a rumble against Mark's ear. Mark can't read the tone of it, doesn't know what it means.
Then Eduardo is pulling away and Mark's heart sinks down to his feet, teeth digging into his lower lip.
"Mark," Eduardo says again, reaching out to cup Mark's face, forcing him to look up.
Mark squirms under the weight of Eduardo's gaze, brown eyes opened wide and pupils blown. He doesn't want to do this face to face, but if he has to, if it's what it takes to keep Eduardo forever, he will.
"Mark…"
"Yes," Mark says curtly. "That is my name."
Eduardo grins with his entire face, huge and so goddamned happy Mark's stomach flutters with it.
"You're ridiculous," Eduardo says.
"Your hair is ridiculous," Mark counters.
"I love you," Eduardo says and Mark doesn't have a good comeback for that, other than to smile so wide his cheeks hurt a little.
"Does it count as after sex if you're naked?" he asks, just to make sure.
Eduardo laughs and kisses him and murmurs, no, against Mark's lips, and Mark thinks that life is pretty spectacularly awesome.
--
"I thought you were going to break up with me," Eduardo says later, curled up with his head on Mark's chest.
"That's stupid," Mark says, slipping his fingers into Eduardo's still damp hair, but he supposes it's more from perspiration by now than the rain.
Eduardo huffs. "You're stupid."
Mark opens his mouth to protest because he's really not, but then he clamps it shut, because maybe he is a little bit, about certain things. "Why?" he asks instead.
"You got weird," he says. "Well, weirder. After my dad got sick."
Mark stares up at the ceiling. "I was scared," he mutters and he hates that it makes his cheeks flush even now. "You were hurt and I… couldn't help you."
"Are you kidding me, Mark?" Eduardo rolls over, bracing himself on his elbows to stare at Mark and Mark really wishes Eduardo didn't insist on doing that because it's so much harder face-to-face. "I don't… I don't know how I would have gotten through that week without you. You were… amazing and I never… I never thought you'd do that for me."
Eduardo smiles faintly, pushing Mark's curls back from his face and kissing the corner of his mouth. It's so sweet Mark can feel his teeth rot, but somehow he can't bring himself to mind.
"It should probably be noted," Mark mutters. "That I wouldn't do that for anyone but you."
If Eduardo smiled any brighter Mark would need sunglasses. Mark taps his nose and rests back against the pillows.
"So…uh, what did I actually say last night?"
Eduardo laughs, collapsing back against Mark's chest. "Pretty much the same things you told me earlier, but with a lot more screaming, cursing and throwing up."
"The…uh… love bits?"
"Yeah," Eduardo says, nuzzling Mark's collarbone that isn't anywhere near as spectacular as Eduardo's.
"That's… uh… awkward. Not how I planned to tell you at all." A horrendous thought hits him. "I didn't cry, did I?"
Eduardo laughs, pressing a kiss against Mark's shoulder. "Well, you might have sniffled a little, but I'm sure it was just the booze, and the throwing up."
Mark is almost certain Eduardo's just messing with him. Almost.
"I love you," he says and it's actually easier the second (well, third) time.
"It doesn't count if you say it after sex," Eduardo murmurs.
Mark falls asleep with a smile on his face.
--
In the morning Mark hacks Eduardo's Facebook page and changes his relationship status to In A Relationship. Eduardo watches the screen with his chin propped up on Mark's shoulder.
"Huh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss against Mark's neck. "So that's how you do it."
--The End--
Notes:
Harvard probably doesn't have a 24-hour coffee shop.
In the movie Facebook goes live on February 12, in reality I think it was February 4. For the purpose of my plot, it's February 13.
I have no idea if Eduardo's dorm (wherever that was) had a communal kitchen, but for the purpose of this story, it did.
I took great liberties with the layout of the Kirkland dorm. I'm pretty sure it didn't have a kitchenette or doors and I think they had a fourth roommate. (Billy, right?)
You can assume that they live happily ever after, get married, and adopt 2,5 kids.
Thanks for reading. <333