Just You
Title: Just You
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Written for this prompt in the kink meme: "Eduardo sometimes lets sappy things, like terms of endearments, slip out when he's talking to Mark. Sometimes he doesn't even notice he does it but sometimes he does and blushes in embarrassment. But Mark never brings it up because he secretly loves it a lot - both the petnames and the pink cheeks."
Story:
The first time Eduardo does it, he’s completely plastered, and Mark laughs it off. He opens his mouth to ask Did you really just call me ‘dearest,’ but stops himself. He’s not sure why, but suddenly he doesn’t want Eduardo to realize he’s just called him ‘dearest.’ He takes another sip of his beer and smiles, listening to Eduardo continue talking.
For a long time after that, Mark notices that Eduardo has a habit of calling him pet names. It only happens when Eduardo has had at least had a few beers, and Eduardo doesn’t seem to notice at all. Mark wonders how long it had been going on before he even noticed.
‘Dearest’ makes a few reappearances, but there’s also ‘darling,’ ‘sweetie,’ and once, when he’s particularly trashed after a long week of studying and very little sleep, he even calls Mark ‘angel,’ which makes Mark laugh out loud before quickly covering it with a cough, feigning choking on his beer.
Mark doesn’t ever bring it to Eduardo’s attention. He isn’t sure what would happen if he did, but chances are, Eduardo would at least try to stop doing it. Mark has decided he doesn’t want that.
In fact, he’s decided that he really kind of likes for Eduardo to use pet names on him. He’s never even heard Eduardo call a girl by any name other than her own, let alone any of their other friends. It makes Mark feel important-almost as if he’s superior to everyone else in Eduardo’s life.
It’s several weeks later when Eduardo finally notices what he’s doing. He reaches up and ruffles Mark’s hair as he says it, setting down a sweaty bottled water from his fridge and murmuring, “Drink some water before going to bed, love.”
Mark tenses when he feels Eduardo freeze just behind him, his hand still hovering in the air from stroking his curls. Desperate to make it seem as if he hadn’t noticed, Mark doesn’t look up, blinking resolutely at the water bottle on his desk. He picks it up and tries to look perfectly natural while he takes a long drink.
“Thanks,” he says, allowing himself to glance at Eduardo in acknowledgement.
Eduardo is looking furiously at his feet, red blossoming upward from the nape of his neck. He nods, but says nothing. Mark wants to tell him not to worry about it, but he’s afraid to bring it up at all. He doesn’t know how Eduardo will react to knowing Mark hears these nicknames, but he’s afraid they’ve crossed the line where it’s believable to feign ignorance.
He keeps staring at Eduardo and watches his shoulders slacken. “Sorry,” Eduardo says carefully, sounding as if he’s not sure why he’s apologizing.
Mark takes his chance to play along. “What for?” he asks innocently, with his usual air of mild annoyance at something he finds unnecessary, and cocks his head to the side. He feels his own relief well in his chest when the same emotion settles on Eduardo’s face.
“For…” Eduardo mimes ruffling Mark’s hair as cover, “I know you don’t like people touching you when you’re coding-it was…uh. Just automatic.”
Mark shrugs it off. He doesn’t want to admit he likes that, too-if only when Eduardo does it.
After that, several weeks go by where Eduardo only calls him Mark.
Mark decides to attempt to fix this and goes out and buys tequila, but he starts getting nervous when Eduardo makes no change after several mixed drinks, and starts drinking more than he had planned for himself.
Mark thinks the bottle is probably empty by the time he ends up lying on his back, his legs hanging over the side of his bed and his head resting near Eduardo’s, who is propped up against the bed and sitting on the floor.
“Mark-” Eduardo starts, but whatever he was about to say, Mark doesn’t wait to find out.
“I like ‘love’ best,” he blurts out, staring at the ceiling, his voice holding the same flat quality it always does, if perhaps mildly slurred in his drunkenness.
Eduardo doesn’t have anything to say to that for several seconds. “What?” he finally asks.
Mark blinks, realizing what he’s just said, and doesn’t answer. He feels Eduardo turn his head.
“What did you say?” Eduardo asks again, and Mark can’t just avoid answering now. If he were sober he could probably think of a way to change the subject, but in his current state, this is honestly what he wants to talk about, anyway.
“You only called me it once, but I like it best,” Mark tells the ceiling, “I like ‘darling,’ too, but if you call me ‘angel’ again Dustin will probably hear about it and never let you live it down.”
He can feel Eduardo staring at him, but doesn’t look away from the ceiling. He pretends to see patterns in the spotted tiles.
“What?” Eduardo asks again, this time his voice is much quieter and a little breathless, and Mark can see that he looks terrified out of the corner of his eye.
Mark sighs, like he usually does when he’s tired of explaining something to someone who doesn’t get it, but still doesn’t turn to look at Eduardo. He tilts his head to the other side and continues to stare at the ceiling, pretending to see more patterns as a result of the new angle. “I like when you call me things. Nicknames. Whatever.”
“What?” Eduardo repeats dumbly.
“Would you stop asking that?” Mark snaps finally, turning his head to look at Eduardo but chickening out at the last minute and glaring at his collarbone.
He watches Eduardo’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, and then hears him ask, “Why?”
“Because it’s annoying,” Mark says, answering the wrong question to stall for time. He had been drunk enough to start this conversation, but isn’t nearly drunk enough to finish it. “I can only explain things so far before-”
“Mark,” Eduardo chides softly, “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Mark wonders if he uses his name just to get the point across. It sounds so painfully formal in the fog of alcohol. “I don’t know. Nobody else calls me nicknames.” Not even his mother. There aren’t any nicknames for Mark.
“Unless it’s asshole or dick,” Eduardo adds unhelpfully, smirking.
Mark doesn’t know what he’s trying to accomplish by bringing that up, so he ignores it. “You don’t call anyone else nicknames, either,” Mark adds seriously, “Just me.”
Eduardo’s smirk fades instantly, and he turns away from Mark, staring at his glass for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally, “Just you.”
“Why?” Mark asks, pushing now that the table has turned. Eduardo flinches, looking honestly pained, and doesn’t answer. Mark doesn’t ask again.
They’re both quiet for a minute, and then Eduardo asks, “Why do you like love best?”
Mark shrugs, feeling the back of his neck start to itch.
“You can’t say you don’t know,” Eduardo says, apparently forgetting that Mark said nothing. “I’ve been calling you all sorts of things. Why is that one your favourite?”
Mark shrugs again, and manages to shoot Eduardo a look of mild frustration. If Eduardo got to pass on one of his questions, he should get to pass on that one if he wants to.
“Tell me,” Eduardo says pleadingly, and suddenly the whole mood of the room shifts so drastically it almost feels physical, and Mark involuntarily props himself up on his elbows to steady himself. Eduardo is staring openly at him, and Mark feels his mouth go dry.
“Wardo-” Mark says hoarsely, at a loss, “I-”
Eduardo suddenly takes a handful of his hair and pulls him forward into a kiss. Mark is frozen for a moment-unable to close his eyes and unsure of where to put his hands-but he feels Eduardo move determinedly against him, his tongue licking gently at the seam of Mark’s mouth until he parts his lips.
As the kiss deepens, Mark feels himself relax, eyes settling closed as his hand falls onto Eduardo’s neck.
The touch startles Eduardo and he pulls away as if he’d been burned, getting quickly to his feet. “Wardo-” Mark says again, confused and mildly hurt, but before he can move, Eduardo is on him, his fingers buried in his curls as he peppers kisses down Mark’s neck. “Wardo,” Mark says again, almost a gasp this time, as he feels Eduardo murmuring against his skin.
“Mine,” Eduardo breathes repeatedly, “mine, mine, mine…please, please…just mine.”
Mark feels slightly dizzy with the attention, wondering how long Eduardo has wanted to have him like this since meeting him; how long he’s kept this secret to himself. He nods fervently, feeling Eduardo let out a shaky breath against his collarbone. “Okay,” Mark says unsurely, feeling warmth pooling at the pit of his stomach, “Just yours.”
At first, it feels strange saying it-he’s never wanted to belong to someone else-but when he thinks about it, he realizes it’s true; Eduardo’s always had him.
Several years later, across a deposition table, Eduardo glares at Mark, ignoring the lawyers on either side of them and says in a choked voice, “He owned Mark after that dinner.”
Mark breaks the eye contact and looks at his hands, trying to ignore the tightening in his chest.
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Written for this prompt in the kink meme: "Eduardo sometimes lets sappy things, like terms of endearments, slip out when he's talking to Mark. Sometimes he doesn't even notice he does it but sometimes he does and blushes in embarrassment. But Mark never brings it up because he secretly loves it a lot - both the petnames and the pink cheeks."
Story:
The first time Eduardo does it, he’s completely plastered, and Mark laughs it off. He opens his mouth to ask Did you really just call me ‘dearest,’ but stops himself. He’s not sure why, but suddenly he doesn’t want Eduardo to realize he’s just called him ‘dearest.’ He takes another sip of his beer and smiles, listening to Eduardo continue talking.
For a long time after that, Mark notices that Eduardo has a habit of calling him pet names. It only happens when Eduardo has had at least had a few beers, and Eduardo doesn’t seem to notice at all. Mark wonders how long it had been going on before he even noticed.
‘Dearest’ makes a few reappearances, but there’s also ‘darling,’ ‘sweetie,’ and once, when he’s particularly trashed after a long week of studying and very little sleep, he even calls Mark ‘angel,’ which makes Mark laugh out loud before quickly covering it with a cough, feigning choking on his beer.
Mark doesn’t ever bring it to Eduardo’s attention. He isn’t sure what would happen if he did, but chances are, Eduardo would at least try to stop doing it. Mark has decided he doesn’t want that.
In fact, he’s decided that he really kind of likes for Eduardo to use pet names on him. He’s never even heard Eduardo call a girl by any name other than her own, let alone any of their other friends. It makes Mark feel important-almost as if he’s superior to everyone else in Eduardo’s life.
It’s several weeks later when Eduardo finally notices what he’s doing. He reaches up and ruffles Mark’s hair as he says it, setting down a sweaty bottled water from his fridge and murmuring, “Drink some water before going to bed, love.”
Mark tenses when he feels Eduardo freeze just behind him, his hand still hovering in the air from stroking his curls. Desperate to make it seem as if he hadn’t noticed, Mark doesn’t look up, blinking resolutely at the water bottle on his desk. He picks it up and tries to look perfectly natural while he takes a long drink.
“Thanks,” he says, allowing himself to glance at Eduardo in acknowledgement.
Eduardo is looking furiously at his feet, red blossoming upward from the nape of his neck. He nods, but says nothing. Mark wants to tell him not to worry about it, but he’s afraid to bring it up at all. He doesn’t know how Eduardo will react to knowing Mark hears these nicknames, but he’s afraid they’ve crossed the line where it’s believable to feign ignorance.
He keeps staring at Eduardo and watches his shoulders slacken. “Sorry,” Eduardo says carefully, sounding as if he’s not sure why he’s apologizing.
Mark takes his chance to play along. “What for?” he asks innocently, with his usual air of mild annoyance at something he finds unnecessary, and cocks his head to the side. He feels his own relief well in his chest when the same emotion settles on Eduardo’s face.
“For…” Eduardo mimes ruffling Mark’s hair as cover, “I know you don’t like people touching you when you’re coding-it was…uh. Just automatic.”
Mark shrugs it off. He doesn’t want to admit he likes that, too-if only when Eduardo does it.
After that, several weeks go by where Eduardo only calls him Mark.
Mark decides to attempt to fix this and goes out and buys tequila, but he starts getting nervous when Eduardo makes no change after several mixed drinks, and starts drinking more than he had planned for himself.
Mark thinks the bottle is probably empty by the time he ends up lying on his back, his legs hanging over the side of his bed and his head resting near Eduardo’s, who is propped up against the bed and sitting on the floor.
“Mark-” Eduardo starts, but whatever he was about to say, Mark doesn’t wait to find out.
“I like ‘love’ best,” he blurts out, staring at the ceiling, his voice holding the same flat quality it always does, if perhaps mildly slurred in his drunkenness.
Eduardo doesn’t have anything to say to that for several seconds. “What?” he finally asks.
Mark blinks, realizing what he’s just said, and doesn’t answer. He feels Eduardo turn his head.
“What did you say?” Eduardo asks again, and Mark can’t just avoid answering now. If he were sober he could probably think of a way to change the subject, but in his current state, this is honestly what he wants to talk about, anyway.
“You only called me it once, but I like it best,” Mark tells the ceiling, “I like ‘darling,’ too, but if you call me ‘angel’ again Dustin will probably hear about it and never let you live it down.”
He can feel Eduardo staring at him, but doesn’t look away from the ceiling. He pretends to see patterns in the spotted tiles.
“What?” Eduardo asks again, this time his voice is much quieter and a little breathless, and Mark can see that he looks terrified out of the corner of his eye.
Mark sighs, like he usually does when he’s tired of explaining something to someone who doesn’t get it, but still doesn’t turn to look at Eduardo. He tilts his head to the other side and continues to stare at the ceiling, pretending to see more patterns as a result of the new angle. “I like when you call me things. Nicknames. Whatever.”
“What?” Eduardo repeats dumbly.
“Would you stop asking that?” Mark snaps finally, turning his head to look at Eduardo but chickening out at the last minute and glaring at his collarbone.
He watches Eduardo’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, and then hears him ask, “Why?”
“Because it’s annoying,” Mark says, answering the wrong question to stall for time. He had been drunk enough to start this conversation, but isn’t nearly drunk enough to finish it. “I can only explain things so far before-”
“Mark,” Eduardo chides softly, “You know that’s not what I meant.”
Mark wonders if he uses his name just to get the point across. It sounds so painfully formal in the fog of alcohol. “I don’t know. Nobody else calls me nicknames.” Not even his mother. There aren’t any nicknames for Mark.
“Unless it’s asshole or dick,” Eduardo adds unhelpfully, smirking.
Mark doesn’t know what he’s trying to accomplish by bringing that up, so he ignores it. “You don’t call anyone else nicknames, either,” Mark adds seriously, “Just me.”
Eduardo’s smirk fades instantly, and he turns away from Mark, staring at his glass for a moment. “Yeah,” he says finally, “Just you.”
“Why?” Mark asks, pushing now that the table has turned. Eduardo flinches, looking honestly pained, and doesn’t answer. Mark doesn’t ask again.
They’re both quiet for a minute, and then Eduardo asks, “Why do you like love best?”
Mark shrugs, feeling the back of his neck start to itch.
“You can’t say you don’t know,” Eduardo says, apparently forgetting that Mark said nothing. “I’ve been calling you all sorts of things. Why is that one your favourite?”
Mark shrugs again, and manages to shoot Eduardo a look of mild frustration. If Eduardo got to pass on one of his questions, he should get to pass on that one if he wants to.
“Tell me,” Eduardo says pleadingly, and suddenly the whole mood of the room shifts so drastically it almost feels physical, and Mark involuntarily props himself up on his elbows to steady himself. Eduardo is staring openly at him, and Mark feels his mouth go dry.
“Wardo-” Mark says hoarsely, at a loss, “I-”
Eduardo suddenly takes a handful of his hair and pulls him forward into a kiss. Mark is frozen for a moment-unable to close his eyes and unsure of where to put his hands-but he feels Eduardo move determinedly against him, his tongue licking gently at the seam of Mark’s mouth until he parts his lips.
As the kiss deepens, Mark feels himself relax, eyes settling closed as his hand falls onto Eduardo’s neck.
The touch startles Eduardo and he pulls away as if he’d been burned, getting quickly to his feet. “Wardo-” Mark says again, confused and mildly hurt, but before he can move, Eduardo is on him, his fingers buried in his curls as he peppers kisses down Mark’s neck. “Wardo,” Mark says again, almost a gasp this time, as he feels Eduardo murmuring against his skin.
“Mine,” Eduardo breathes repeatedly, “mine, mine, mine…please, please…just mine.”
Mark feels slightly dizzy with the attention, wondering how long Eduardo has wanted to have him like this since meeting him; how long he’s kept this secret to himself. He nods fervently, feeling Eduardo let out a shaky breath against his collarbone. “Okay,” Mark says unsurely, feeling warmth pooling at the pit of his stomach, “Just yours.”
At first, it feels strange saying it-he’s never wanted to belong to someone else-but when he thinks about it, he realizes it’s true; Eduardo’s always had him.
Several years later, across a deposition table, Eduardo glares at Mark, ignoring the lawyers on either side of them and says in a choked voice, “He owned Mark after that dinner.”
Mark breaks the eye contact and looks at his hands, trying to ignore the tightening in his chest.