[fanfiction] i'm so into you (but i'm way too smart for you) part 2

[kisforkurama]

When the war was over, Mark built himself a castle called Skullcrusher Mountain because he wanted to be alone. The problem with that is that Mark hadn't taken into account the fact that his eleven-year-old self had thought it was a good idea to program robots to refer to him as "King of Everything" once his backdoor code was activated. Mark kind of doesn't mind, but it gets really tiresome after a while and he can't turn it off without shutting his backdoor-something he's definitely not going to do..

Dustin and Chris find the whole situation hilarious, and he'd probably have the robots put them in the dungeon if they weren't the only humans that can tolerate Mark and, in fact, chose to be near him. Mark tries to make them leave about once a day, but they never do. They just hang around and bother him until he actually pays attention to them and whatever problem the world is having.

Ruling the world is a tiresome profession, Mark decides. He kind of wishes he hadn't committed to it so early in life, and he's about to sigh dramatically when Dustin pokes his head into Mark's workshop.

"Master," Dustin says, in the nasally, overly theatrical voice he's so fond of, "I've found you something. It was wandering the grounds."
"For the last time, Dustin," Mark sighs, "you aren't an Igor and stop calling me master. It freaks me out."
Dustin laughs, "Would you prefer I call you King of Everything like everyone else? Seriously, though, come look at what I brought you."
"Remind me why I keep you around," Mark says, "because I can't think of a single compelling reason right now."

There's no real annoyance in Mark's voice, and he thinks Dustin knows that because Dustin just grabs his arm and starts dragging him toward the holding area. Mark follows easily, because he's a little curious what Dustin brought him.

"You keep me around," Dustin says when he's certain Mark is going to follow, "because I don't tell you no like Chris and I bring you shiny things. And because when we were ten and you were mad at Erica Albright, I helped you build the first prototypes for the robot army that caused The Robot War. They sucked, and you blamed me."

Mark can't actually argue with anything that Dustin's just said, because it's all true. He still blames Dustin for their first robots sucking. It clearly had nothing to do with the fact that they were ten and using fire extinguishers and vacuum cleaner parts to build robots with flamethrowers. It was totally Dustin's fault that he didn't turn the fire extinguisher into a flamethrower before they attached it to the robot and ended up with a friendly, firefighting robot instead a terrifying, firecausing one. That's Mark's story and he's sticking to it forever.

"It was your idea to use the fire extinguisher."
"It was also my idea," Dustin says smugly, "to sell our first prototype to fund the really destructive one. And to set Erica Albright's house on fire with it."
"But you also brought Chris in on our plan and he stopped us before we could actually do that."
"Chris is a party pooper," Dustin shrugs, "which is why I'm showing you the thing I found before Chris. You can veto him now!"

It's cute how Dustin thinks Mark actually has any say when Chris doesn't want them to do Morally Questionable Acts after they started The Great Robot War while he was on vacation with his family. Mark doesn't bother to correct Dustin, though, just follows him into the holding area. Dustin's the kind of happyexcited that he gets when he's built a new robot and Mark's just loaded in an AI and they're booting it up for the first time. He hasn't changed that much, and Mark likes that. Everything else is so different that it's nice to remember that not everyone considers him King of Everything.

Glancing around the room, Mark doesn't see anything new or shiny at all until he fixes his optics on the crumpled robot on the floor. Dustin's right, it is shiny. He wants to keep it more than he's wanted anything since Erica Albright's attention, and he can't see why Dustin thinks Chris wouldn't let them until he actually processes the object and realizes that it's not a robot. It's a cyborg.

Chris definitely won't let them keep it, because it absolutely falls under Morally Questionable Acts and even Mark knows that, but oh. Mark wants to keep it. Dustin can tell, because he's grinning in that way Mark has come to associate with things he'll blame Dustin for later, and Mark's moving without thinking. He kneels next to the cyborg, fingers hovering and wanting to touch but instinctively abstaining. It's a boy, Mark thinks (although he could be wrong), and it's beautiful.

Distantly, Mark aches and wonders if his heart is whirring into place and remembering how to produce emotions other than the angry and tired and apathetic he's been for so long. His fingers curl around the cyborg's shoulder and shake it gently.

"Hey," Mark manages, "wake up."

The cyborg groans, but doesn't wake. Mark shakes it slightly more vigorously, and it turns. Blinking up at Mark, the cyborg tries to focus.

"Where . . . ?"
"The Compound," Mark answers, in lieu of saying Skullcrusher Mountain, "Are you okay?"
"Ow," the cyborg says.

It closes its eyes. Mark looks over at Dustin, who nods and touches the omniscreen by the door. He's asking for some of the medibots to come by ASAP and Mark sits down on the floor, smooth and cold, and stares at the cyborg. Chris will be there shortly, because Chris accompanies any request for a medibot, and Mark tries to formulate his argument for keeping the cyborg. Maybe locking it in a room so it can't escape. No, Chris will never accept that. It has to be something . . . Of course.

Chris has been bothering Mark and trying to get him to interact with his human subjects more often. Maybe Mark can convince Chris that they should keep the cyborg to train as an ambassador or something. It'll be find, Mark thinks, because he's got a couple days to convince Chris. The cyborg won't be getting out of medbay for at least that long, and Chris isn't likely to send him away to recover.

He'll get to keep the cyborg somehow, even if it means locking Chris into the dungeons.

When Eduardo wakes up, he's in a bed he doesn't recognize. If this weren't a fairly common occurrence, he'd be more worried. Still, it's never good to wake up in unfamiliar surroundings, so Eduardo opens his eyes and sits up cautiously. There's a blond checking some monitors off to the side, and a quick sweep of the room reveals that he's in a medbay of some sort. The blond turns around and gives him a once-over.

"Feeling better? You were pretty banged up when we found you."
"Where am I?"

It's the most important question that Eduardo can ask, and he's aware that it may be the only question that he gets to ask. Sighing, the blond sets aside the data tablet. Eduardo senses that this is not a question he wants to answer, but he's going to anyway. The thought makes Eduardo's shoulders relax a little.

"My name is Chris," the guy says, "and you're in the medbay of Skullcrusher Mountain."

Suddenly, Eduardo remembers. He'd crossed some kind of boundary into private property and then a guardbot had knocked him out and put him in a holding cell. There had been a voice that told him he was at "the compound" and then he'd unceremoniously passed out again. Apparently "the compound" had been a codename for "Mark Zuckerberg's Fortress of Solitude." If this had happened two or three years ago, Eduardo might have already tried to make a run for it. He's tired of running, though. Flexing his fingers, Eduardo can tell from the fluidity in his replacement arm that they've tinkered with the cyberkinetics. He looks over at Chris, who's standing and waiting for a response.

"What ranked me getting medical attention instead of getting thrown to the dogs? I thought the King of Everything didn't tolerate trespassers."

Chris looks grim. Eduardo recalls the news broadcasts and realizes that this must be the Chris who does most of the PR and deals with the human diplomacy. It's been said that Mark keeps a decidedly small staff of humans, but no one's ever been able to see if that's true or not. Besides, Mark's been making more and more realistic robots so it's not like they'd be able to tell if they had the chance. Eduardo thinks that if Chris is here in the medbay, that particular rumor must be at least a little true.

"You were hurt," Chris settles on, "and whatever you've heard, Mark isn't actually ruthless. He doesn't throw injured people back out on the street. Besides, he decided that you weren't a threat and just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Dinner's in a couple of minutes, will you be staying?"

Eduardo is going to say that he has places to be and breeze away, but then his stomach growls and answers the question for him.

"I guess," he says, "Thanks for fixing my cybers, you didn't have to do that."
"Wasn't me," Chris snorts, "I just patched you up. Thank Mark when we get to dinner. Come on, I'll lead you."

Jerking his head in the direction of the door, Chris starts walking out. Absently, Eduardo thinks of his backpack, worn and almost falling apart but still containing all his worldly possessions. A quick scan of the room doesn't turn it up, so Eduardo figures he'll ask about it when he's getting ready to leave as he slips off the bed he's been laying in to follow Chris.

They walk down winding hallways, all painted a slightly blue-white that seems to leech anxiety out of Eduardo, before they get to the dining room. Honestly, it's a little underwhelming. There's a blue-tinted glass table that looks like it seats eight people packed fairly close together with six chairs that also seem to be made of glass set around it toward one end of the room and a fairly nice but small kitchen at the other. Two people are standing in the kitchen area, arguing about something and nudging each other out of the way to get to the things they need. It looks like the dining room in a small apartment, not a expansive castle, and Eduardo thinks it might not be any bigger than his bedroom growing up.

"We have a guest tonight," Chris says once he's walked over to the kitchen area, "Who I assume doesn't have any dietary needs beyond the normal."
"Are you allergic to anything?"

Mark turns as he asks the question, and Eduardo is frozen in place. It's not that he doesn't know who Mark is or what he's done, more that Eduardo looks at him and for the first time doesn't see the genius that his father revered. He sees a barely-twenty guy with unruly curls that's wearing a soft grey henley with long sleeves and jeans stained with grease. He sees the Mark he remembers wanting to be friends with, and he sees the heavy tiredness that seems to hang over Mark too.

After a moment too long, Eduardo remembers that Mark's asked him a question and tries to make the words to form the answer.

"No," he says finally, "I eat whatever I'm given."

There's something resembling a frown on Mark's face, and Eduardo doesn't know what to do with that. Instead, he sits down at the dining room table and watches the cooking that's going on between Mark and the other guy he hasn't been introduced to. He seems vaguely familiar, and Eduardo is still trying to place it when Chris comes over and sets silverware down for everyone before he sits next to Eduardo.

"They hate when I try to help," Chris explains, "It 'throws off their groove' or something, so we trade off on cooking duty. I hope you don't have any objection to spaghetti-it's one of the few things we all agree on."
"I don't turn down food if it's edible," Eduardo says, unwilling to explain further, and then points toward the kitchen, "Who's that? The one that isn't King of Everything, obviously."
"Dustin," Chris says, fond and a little wistful, "He's been Mark's partner-in-crime for as long as either of them can remember. You shouldn't call Mark 'King of Everything' to his face, by the way. He hates that."

The question he wants to ask about why he calls himself that is on the tip of Eduardo's tongue, but Mark turns around again and Eduardo swallows it.

"How much sauce do you-not you, Chris-want on your spaghetti?"
Eduardo shrugs, "A decent amount. Don't drown the past in it, but enough so that it gets on the pasta properly."

Absentmindedly, Mark nods and then turns around to spoon sauce over a plate of noodles. Dustin walks over with two plates, setting one down in front of Chris, and Eduardo finally puts it together. The scrawny fast-talker that was always hovering by Mark's side and the slightly-muscled guy holding a plate of spaghetti are the same person. Dustin has definitely grown into himself in a way that Mark hasn't, and Eduardo's about to say something before he decides that it's probably better if he doesn't admit to knowing Mark.

Conveniently, Mark comes over and sets down what looks like an entire package on pasta mounded onto a single plate in front of him. It's definitely at least twice the portion on everyone else's plate, and no one says anything about it. Eduardo stares at it for a second before shaking off the weirdness and digging in.

It's food, and Eduardo has spent too many days eating nothing to turn that down.

Dinner is a fairly quiet affair, for a certain value of "quiet."

Dustin and Chris talk, like they always do, about what needs to be done soon and how the various projects for the betterment of the world are going. It's their version of flirting, which is something Mark has only figured out with long-term exposure to them, and usually it amuses Mark enough that he tries to interrupt just to see them flustered when they remember he's at the table too. Tonight, though, Mark mostly watches the cyborg seated across from him. If Mark wanted to, he could figure out what his name is and who he is. It wouldn't even be that difficult, which is why it's even more important to Mark that the information is freely given. Just because Mark can do something awful doesn't always mean he will, if he sees a better option.

"What's your name?"

As far as openings go, Mark could have done better. The sudden question startles the cyborg out of his somewhat frantic eating, which tells Mark what he wanted to know. There's not enough food out there, and they're going to have to figure out ways of distributing it better. He'll bring it up with Chris later, see what they can do. Swallowing, the cyborg pauses for a second, trying to evaluate Mark.

"Eduardo," he says finally, "Just Eduardo, I'm afraid I don't have a fancy title like you do."
"It's nice to meet you properly," Mark says, trying to smile, "I'm Mark."
"I know," Eduardo says, dismissive, "You're Mark Zuckerberg, King of Everything."

The words are almost a sneer, like a reminder that some people don't like Mark, regardless of how much he tries to keep the world running as smoothly as possible. Nobody is universally liked, though, so Mark tries to be civil. Largely because Chris said that the cyborg could stay if the cyborg wanted to stay, and Mark wants that.

"Not really," Mark sighs, "I'm just Mark. I'm only the King of Everything because I programmed a bunch of robots to call me that when I was ten. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Eduardo laughs, unexpected and a little hysterical. Mark doesn't understand him yet, not in the intrinsic way he's come to understand Chris and Dustin, so he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, Eduardo seems a little more at ease.

"Next thing you'll be telling me that The Great Robot War was just a summer project that got out of hand. You're . . . Not what I expected."

There isn't much Mark has to say to that, so he lets the conversation die out and they don't talk for the rest of dinner. Afterward, Dustin and Chris need to go run some scenarios in the holoroom, which leaves Mark alone with Eduardo. Before Chris leaves, though, he narrows his eyes at Mark. Mark knows that look, unfortunately. It's the one that means don't do anything I wouldn't approve of, and Mark generally takes it seriously because Chris makes his life very easy, but he can also make it extremely difficult.

"I meant to ask," Eduardo says once Chris and Dustin leave, "do you know where my backpack is? It's. Important to me."
"Yeah," Mark says, "It's in the medbay somewhere. Do you want to go get it?"
"I was planning on leaving after dinner," Eduardo shrugs, "so that would be great."
"You don't have to go."

It tumbles out without Mark meaning to say it, while he's standing to clear the dishes and put them in the sink for the washerbot to do later. Eduardo doesn't say anything as Mark walks away and sets all the dishes in the sink. When he returns to the table, Eduardo is watching him and Mark feels like he hasn't since he was ten and everyone called him stupid.

"Can I have my backpack now?"
"Yeah," Mark shrugs, "Sure. I'll help you look for it."

Gracefully, Eduardo stands and follows Mark to the medbay. Mark actually doesn't know exactly where Chris stored the ratty backpack that came with Eduardo, but he knows that it's there somewhere and he knows where Chris is likely to put it. Once they're in the medbay, Mark makes a beeline for the storage locker to the right of the singular bed. Pressing his palm to it, the locker hisses open and Mark scans the contents. Locating the ratty backpack he hands it off to Eduardo, who hefts it over his shoulder.

"Be careful," Mark says, hearing the little voice in his head that sounds like Chris screaming at him, "the night patrol is out right now and we just patched you up. I wouldn't want you to visit our medbay again so soon."

There's a moment where Eduardo pauses, tries to evaluate Mark's intent, and Mark can see the moment that he's won.

"Do you have somewhere I can crash for the night?"
"Yeah," Mark says, carefully keeping his voice neutral, "Follow me."

Part of Mark wants to take Eduardo to his room, but Mark's got secrets he doesn't want anyone to know hidden in that room, so it's an overall bad idea. He takes him to the actual guest room instead, mostly used for when they're housing global representatives. As much as Skullcrusher Mountain is a castle, only three people live in it and there's only five bedrooms total. The rest of the space is mostly made of the holorooms and various formal rooms that Mark rarely uses except for the conferences they hold to talk about the state of the world.

The room is furnished as simply as the rest of the castle in the same blues and whites that Chris had raised an eyebrow at. Mark doesn't care, they're the colors he likes best and it's his damn castle. He'll make it blue and white if he wants to.

"This is the guest room. Feel free to stay as long as you want, breakfast is at somewhere between nine am and noon."
"Thanks," Eduardo says, "but I'm probably leaving in the morning."

Mark doesn't want that, but he's only just above locking Eduardo in the guest room forever so he just wishes him goodnight and heads up to the holoroom to see how Chris and Dustin are doing.

Dear Mark,
I met your namesake properly today.

Do you know that old lessontale? The one about Beauty and the Cyberman? I feel a little like I'm living in it, because I'm pretty sure your namesake just threatened to keep me here forever. I'm not sure, I didn't bother to ask for clarification. I'm leaving in the morning, though. I am.

Well, it's probably less like "I am" and more like "I should," because Mark is. This is a chance to ask him all the questions I never did and figure him out. Set my curiosity to rest after all these years. It's a terrible plan, but you know me. I'm very much into terrible plans, and it's not like I've been making the best choices lately. At least here I have consistent food and a stable roof. That's better than the way I've been living, right?

Does it matter if I have to be someone's prisoner to have it? Maybe I would have said yes two years ago, but I think I'm done being mad. It doesn't change anything, after all, and then we're all just left with ruins. Anger is useful, but it can only last so long and I think I've run out of anger. What do you think, Mark?

I'm probably just being stupid. Either way, I'll write you soon to let you know my decision.
Eduardo really does mean to leave the next morning when he tucks his journal away and goes to sleep. He does, but then he stumbles into the dining room at a little past nine to find Mark pouring coffee into two mug and setting them aside before drinking coffee straight from the coffee pot. It shouldn't be charming (actually it should be gross), but Eduardo pauses and watches the way that Mark, unselfconscious, drinks what has to be like twelve ounces on coffee.

Mark sees Eduardo about when he turns to put the coffeepot in the sink, and rubs at the back of his neck nervously. It doesn't actually seem to be about the fact that anyone say him drinking the coffee.

"If you want coffee," Mark says, "you're going to have to make your own. There's tea and juice too, but I just drank all the coffee."
"I saw," Eduardo blinks, "What's for breakfast?"
"What do you want?"

No one has asked him that in a long time, because he's spent so long drifting from place to place, taking whatever food people will give him from the free shelters and the like. There's not a whole lot of choice at places like that, and Eduardo doesn't know what the last time he had a proper breakfast was. He thinks back to before the way, growing up, and he can't even remember breakfasts with his parents. Maybe they never had any, Eduardo can't recall because it seems so far away.

"Waffles," Eduardo blurts out, "and hash browns."
"Go get a drink and sit down," Mark says, waving his hand in the vague direction of the fridge, "I'll bring it over when I'm done."

Wandering over, Eduardo rummages through the fridge until he finds a bottle of orange juice. He's about to ask where the cups are when Mark, one hand still stirring the batter, reaches up to the cabinet in front of him and pulls out a glass. Eduardo takes it when Mark offers and fills the glass before putting the rest of the orange juice away and wandering over to sit at the dining room table. Mark's just plated the first waffle when Dustin stumbles in and goes straight for one of the mugs that Mark set out earlier. He drinks it down in a couple of gulps and then rinses it out before pouring in hot water from an electric kettle that Eduardo didn't even see Mark set out.

Chris comes in then, going for the other mug Mark set out. He heats his, though, sticking it in the microwave momentarily before sipping at it. Everything about it seems well-oiled and suddenly Eduardo realizes that this is how Mark lives all the time. The media never shows Mark day to day, just at the giant gatherings of representatives and making official announcements. He's locked himself away in a castle and he lives like most of the people who still have homes and jobs.

There are lots of things that Eduardo expected from Mark, but that's not one of them. He expected flash and ostentatious surrounding like the ones he grew up with, but everything about the castle that Mark's built for himself is underwhelming and strangely normal.

"What do you want on your waffles?"

Eduardo looks up, startled out of his thoughts. Mark is looking at him expectantly, having traded places with Dustin at the waffle iron.

"Just syrup and butter is fine."

Nodding, Mark brings over two plates. He sets one down in front of Eduardo and then sits. Chris trails behind him with the butter and syrup, setting them down in the middle of the table with a bottle of ketchup. There are two waffles stacked onto his plate, and a serving of hash browns crammed onto the remaining space on the plate. Eduardo goes for those first, finishing them off before managing to drown his waffles in syrup and butter.

"So," Mark says, "you're leaving after breakfast?"
"I don't know," Eduardo shrugs, "Is the day patrol as vicious as the night patrol?"
"You tell me," Mark says, putting an obscene amount of ketchup on his hash browns, "That's the patrol you met yesterday, after all."
"No wonder no one ever visits you," Eduardo shakes his head, "Once they're here, they can never leave."

It's not a yes, and it's not a no, which is liable to drive Mark insane. Eduardo would feel bad about that, but it's strangely satisfying to cause Mark distress directly instead of indirectly. He finishes eating breakfast before he asks for a tour of Skullcrusher Mountain. Mark looks at him strangely, but says he'd be happy to give a tour. Eduardo gets up to follow him, wondering how long he can push before Mark snaps.

Tours of Skullcrusher Mountain are really boring, if Mark's being honest. Maybe if Skullcrusher Mountain were set up the way people expect it to be, there would be something to show off, but there's not much of anything to see as it is. Nobody ever asks for tours either, so Mark just points out each of the rooms and tells Eduardo what they're for. Eduardo seems to be about as bored as Mark sounds, so Mark's unsure why he wanted a tour. People generally don't ask for tours of Skullcrusher Mountain. People generally don't come to Skullcrusher Mountain period, but Mark's choosing to ignore that small detail. Occasionally Eduardo asks an asinine question, and Mark answers it. Halfway through the tour, Mark glances over at Eduardo and pauses.

"Do you have something against me?"
"Everyone does," Eduardo shrugs, "It's nothing personal."
"This is," Mark says, "Have we met before or something? Did I offend your mother?"
"No," Eduardo laughs, "We've never met before. What's that room for?"

Eduardo's pointing at his lab, and Mark shrugs. He could tell Eduardo the truth, but something about Eduardo makes him want to be an asshole. If nothing else, Mark wants to keep Eduardo around because it's nice to have someone around that doesn't actually like him all that much.

"It's the room where I plan mass genocide and laugh manically."

Mark keeps moving, even though he knows that Eduardo probably got about a million questions about the statement he just made and Eduardo's ranting about how Mark just can't go around killing people. The rest of the tour is mostly spent bickering and yelling about Mark's choice to start The Great Robot War, and Mark expects that Eduardo will leave after the tour, but he doesn't. He stays.

One day becomes two days becomes a week becomes a month, and Eduardo is slowly driving Mark crazy. They start having debates about the ethics of what Mark did, the meaning of words, and it's honestly the most alive Mark has felt in a long time. Chris raises eyebrows at Mark, like he's expecting Mark to kick Eduardo out like a toy or something, but Mark can't. There's something about Eduardo, something familiar and yet so vastly different, that Mark has to lash out at him. Eduardo fights back, and Mark worries that one day Eduardo will actually mean it when he says I'll probably leave in the morning.

"You know," Dustin says one day while he's building a new prototype and Mark is furiously coding, "if you and Eduardo just introduced yourself to each other and forgot about the fact that you're King of Everything and he's a vagabond with a weird grudge or whatever, I think you guys would actually get along. You might even like each other."
"I'm building him a chicken-dinosaur robot."

Dustin looks at Mark for a long moment, and Mark can feel the judgment rolling off him in waves. He ignores it, because Dustin can't sort out his own shit with Chris and he really has no room to talk. Going back to his plans, Mark resolutely doesn't think about Chris and Dustin's on-going saga of idiocy. The thing he's currently building is probably the least nice thing he's ever done to someone. The problem is that he knows it, so it's not even that he's doing it accidentally. He's actually building his first robot in years that isn't meant to be anything other than fun, and it's a robot designed to annoy Eduardo.

Maybe having Eduardo around is a bad thing. Honestly, Mark doesn't care because he'd almost forgotten why he started building robots in the first place. He'd forgotten hours spent welding pieces together, painstakingly soldering boards, and wiring up animatronics. He'd forgotten the feeling of accomplishment, the feeling of pride in the thing he's just created. Sure, Mark's been creating robots for years, but he hasn't created something purely for himself in a long time.

He hasn't felt anything in a long time, so Mark will take the instinctive need to be an asshole to Eduardo when all he wants is to give him a note that says I like you, do you like me back? and maybe kiss him during fireworks. Mark hasn't been in love since Erica Albright, and that turned out terrible so Mark tries to tell himself he's just handling it differently this time.

If he was anything approaching honest with himself, Mark would admit that he's trying to drive Eduardo to hate him so the rejection makes sense. Mark is rarely ever honest with himself, though. He builds his chicken-dinosaur robot and doesn't think about why he's doing it beyond the fact that he wants to.

Eduardo really should leave. He keeps telling himself that, keeps telling his journal that, keeps telling Mark that, but he sticks around and bothers Mark in his lab, gets roped into helping Chris with organizational stuff, hands Dustin tools when he needs them. He stays because Eduardo hasn't had anything resembling a home in five years and the weird captivity is something Eduardo clings to. Logically he knows that Mark isn't actually keeping him at Skullcrusher Mountain, but he likes to pretend that Mark is because then he doesn't have to think about all the things he'd shoved away when he was focusing on being angry.

It's about when Mark gives him the chicken-dinosaur robot that Eduardo realizes that he's probably never going to leave. The thing is annoying as hell, because apparently it's been programmed to follow Eduardo around and quack plaintively. That's literally all it does, and Eduardo absolutely despises it, but he doesn't rip it apart (even though he could) and he doesn't leave (even though he should). Instead, he tolerates the stupid robot and Dustin's cooing noises and Mark's smug expression for a week before Chris finally breathes out and points at the stupid thing.

"DinoChick 700, deactivate."

The robot powers down, and Eduardo stares at it disbelievingly for a moment before Chris smacks the back of his head. He's obviously annoyed, and Eduardo stares at him. He doesn't exactly know Chris well enough to understand what's going on, but knows that he should be quiet until Chris is done.

"You're a fucking idiot," Chris says, deathly calm, "You and Mark are both idiots who spend too much time ignoring your feelings in favor of being assholes and I am really fucking sick of it. Take the DinoChick 700, find Mark, and fucking sort out your shit. Or leave, like you keep threatening to, because the way you two are acting is spelling out another Great Robot War and I am not dealing with that shit again. I put up with Mark because Mark is Dustin's best friend, but I have no such loyalty to you. Do you understand me?"

Opening his mouth to say something about how Chris really shouldn't be talking about sorting out relationship shit when he's apparently been avoiding sorting out his own shit with Dustin for years and it's visible from space, Eduardo pauses. There's a really evil glint in Chris' eyes, so Eduardo doesn't say that. He's about to say that yes, he understands, when Dustin tumbles into the conference room wearing . . . Nope, Eduardo definitely doesn't want to know what was going on in Dustin's mind when he decided to wear a short, flouncy skirt and a pale purple shirt that looks like the site of a craft project gone wrong.

He also definitely doesn't want to know why Chris is staring at Dustin like he doesn't know whether to yell at him or jump him, which is probably his best cue to exit and get the fuck out of there. Picking up the DinoChick 700, Eduardo slips out of the conference room and shuts the door behind him just as Chris starts yelling. Probably Eduardo should go find Mark-if only to tell him about Chris and Dustin and the weirdness between them. He's not entirely sure where Mark might be, but he knows that it's probably only one of a few places.

Since the lab is closest, Eduardo sighs and heads there first.

Mark is in the middle of trying to sort out what, exactly is wrong with their new prototype when Eduardo wanders into the study. It's not behaving as expected, and he's got everything laid out on the holoscreens while he looks it over, frowning. He looks up when Eduardo enters, mostly because he's expecting Dustin to come back after his failed, last-ditch attempt to get Chris to notice him. Personally, Mark thinks that Dustin could have just grabbed Chris and kissed him (again), but it's none of his business. He's only a little surprised to see Eduardo, clutching a deactivated DinoChick 700 and looking a little spooked. If he saw what Mark assumes he did, it's not an out-of-place reaction.

"I think Chris and Dustin are going to fuck in the conference room," Eduardo says after a few false starts, "so. Don't go looking for them."
"I know," Mark snorts, sweeping the holoscreens away and focusing on Eduardo, "I just hope that this time they don't stop talking for a week and only relay messages through me. It's annoying when they do that."

There's a moment where Eduardo hovers in the doorway, clearly wanting to say something and not sure if he should. Mark calls up a message from Dustin on holoscreen and grimaces. Things are not going as well as he hoped they would.

"Why was Dustin dressed up?"

Eduardo's just barely entered the room, still holding the DinoChick 700 even though it's kind of heavy. It's about the question Mark expected, and he sweeps Dustin's message away to give him time to think. The story really isn't his to tell, but it's also probably not that great of an idea to keep Eduardo out of the loop. He goes for the simplest answer on both ends.

"Sometimes Dustin wants to be pretty."

He doesn't say anything else, because it's Dustin's choice whether he wants to tell Eduardo the rest of it. Honestly, Mark's not sure he could do it justice anyway. The extent of his knowledge on the subject is that sometimes Dustin dresses up in girl's clothing because he wants to be pretty, and that Dustin had somewhat liberal parents who honestly didn't give a fuck what Dustin wore. Mark's gotten so used to the soft cashmere sweaters, glittery shirts, and flouncy skirts that he honestly never thinks about it beyond occasionally saying you look nice.

Even when they were younger, Mark didn't think about it that much beyond telling Dustin to change into coveralls so he didn't get his clothes dirty. Clothes were clothes, it wasn't really Mark's place to say what people could or couldn't wear. Eduardo, however, seems to be struggling with the idea. One day, Mark's going to have to ask about Eduardo's background, but now's not the time.

"He hasn't. I didn't."
Mark shrugs, "Dustin's been working on some prototype stuff. He tends to wear coveralls and stuff he doesn't mind getting greasy when we're working on that kind of thing now. Something about too many ruined shirts."
"Huh."

There's still a distinct look of confusion on Eduardo's face, but Mark knows he won't be able to make it go away so he doesn't try. Eduardo sits down in the chair Dustin's usually in when they're working in the study. He sets the DinoChick 700 at his feet, and Mark pulls up some code he needs to patch while he lets Eduardo think. When he finally says something, it's definitely not what Mark was expecting.

"Why did you do it?"
Mark look over at Eduardo, "Do what?"
"Why did you," Eduardo pauses before sighing, "Why did you start The Great Robot War?"

Mark looks at Eduardo, considering. He almost starts telling him the standard story that's published in all the history books (because history is written by the winners and not the losers), but something makes him pause. Closing his eyes and breathing in, Mark digs deep into his memory banks and pulls out the truth.

"I was ten years old and already making better robots with Dustin for fun than most professionals who were being paid for it. I was also a little in love with Erica Albright, because she was pretty and popular, so I wrote her an anonymous note. Unfortunately, Erica Albright was kind of a bitch and she told the entire class I wrote it. They called me stupid, and it made me furious. Do you know what it's like to have everybody know your name, but not recognize your intelligence?"

There's a long pause, and Eduardo is looking down at his hands like they hold the keys to the universe. Mark wonders what he's thinking about and wonders so much about

"Yeah," Eduardo mumbles, "I do."
"Then you probably already know why I did it."
"I should show you something," Eduardo says, instead of answering, "Wait here while I get it."

Without any further comment, Eduardo disappears from the room and Mark is left blinking at the space where he used to be. He waits, because this is the first time Eduardo has asked him to do something that isn't passing the salt or going to hell and because Mark thinks he might do anything for Eduardo. When Eduardo returns, he's got six leather journals in his arms and he stands in front of Mark, hesitant.

"I sort of lied," Eduardo whispers, "I have met you before, once or twice. You were a year behind me at school. I, um. These are my journals. I named them all Mark, after you."

There's something significant about this moment, but Mark doesn't really know Eduardo well enough to figure out what, exactly, the significance is. Instead he waits for Eduardo to continue his speech, clearly not done yet.

"My father used to tell me to try and be more like you, so I wrote letters to my journals about you and about my father and things like that. I wanted to be friends with you, back when we were in school, but I never worked up the courage to talk to you. If. If you want, I'll let you read my journals."

The moment stretches out, because Mark's not sure what the proper response is. He's pretty sure that everyone would kill to see someone's private journals, but he suspects that the Moral Thing To Do (and ugh, when did the voice in his head start sounding like Chris?) is to decline the offer. Mark shifts in his chair.

"I can't do that without giving you something in return," he says, figuring that a trade makes it all fair, "What do you want? I could build you a robot."

It's subtle, but Mark doesn't miss the way Eduardo looks down at the DinoChick 700 before answering.

"No," Eduardo shakes his head, "that won't be necessary. What I want is . . . will you answer some questions for me later? About yourself."
"Sure," Mark blinks, "if that's what you want."

Eduardo nods, and then holds out the journals for Mark. Mark takes them, careful, and then Eduardo sits back down in the chair across from Mark and relaxes.

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