Four things that never happened to Mark and Eduardo during the depositions
title: Four things that never happened to Mark and Eduardo during the depositions
pairing: Mark/Eduardo
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: 936
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
notes: A collection of half-ass fills for several tsn_kinkmeme prompts. I apologize in advance to the OPs for twisting their ideas.
take one. he was sick.
He is sitting on a windowsill in the empty lobby of the law firm.
“Mark.”
His toes curl against the roof of his sneakers at the sound of Eduardo’s voice. As the taller man walks into Mark’s periphery, he does not even blink.
“Are you okay?”
He offers no answer, fingers dancing with practiced grace. Codes are rolling onto the screen at the same furious speed.
“I know about it,” he catches the hitch in Eduardo’s breath, “about your -”
Mark shuts the laptop with unnecessary force and looks up at Eduardo with hollow, bloodshot eyes. He silently dares the other man to finish the sentence.
“Mark,” Eduardo’s voice lowers, and the well-concealed frustration shows. “addiction is a legitimate disease.”
“For Christ’s sake, Wardo, it’s not substance abuse, it’s just coding.”
Eduardo rubs the ridge of his nose and lets out a long exhale. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“No,” Mark shakes his head, his voice barely audible. “I think you meant, ‘don’t do this to yourself and make me watch.’ ”
Eduardo’s face is calm, but his hands are trembling.
“Don’t make this about me, Mark. Would you let the world know that the CEO of Facebook is struggling with addiction to coding? Would you let me know, if we still have the entire country between us at this moment? It’s only because we sit in the same goddamn room every fucking day that I would have any clue about this.”
“You are the one who sued me, Wardo.”
A long stretch of silence later he opens the laptop again, but Eduardo rips it from his hands and sets it on the floor. He leans in, arms propped against the windowpane behind Mark, his hair brushing against Mark’s neck. But it’s been way too long and Mark has forgotten how to breathe the same air as Eduardo, so he just holds his breath and waits.
“Do you honestly think,” Eduardo whispers in his ear, “Do you honestly think that I care about this deposition more than your well-being? That I would rather trap you here and see you suffer from your disease, than let you go seek treatment?”
“No,” Mark says, “but that's beside the point.”
Eduardo pulls back and gently swipes a thumb against Mark’s ghostly pale cheek. He smiles, but his eyes don’t.
“I can't be your cure, Mark. Not anymore.”
take two. His seat was empty.
He walks out of the room as discreetly as possible. The heavy mahogany door shuts without a sound.
He closes his eyes and leans against the wood. The conversations inside is reduced to a low hum, audible but much less aggressive. He wants to turn a deaf ear but he’s too tired for any pretense.
“I went to my friend for the money...was also my best friend.”
He digs his nails into his palm and tries not to pick up on every nuance of that statement.
By the time he returns to the room, Mark’s chair has already turned the other way. He pretends to take notes on his legal pad to hide his obvious distraction.
what kind of best friend
He crosses those words out. The ink bleeds through the thin yellow paper.
The court reporter looks at him curiously when he asks for the transcript but says nothing as she hands it to him.
The sentence is easy enough to spot. He reads it over, once, twice, he can feel imprints of ink under his right index finger. He mouths those words quietly, they linger on his tongue like gossamer.
If there is still merit to that statement, it is much too light. Only his heart is heavy, now.
take three. What his eyes said.
“I was your only friend. You had one friend.”
You know it’s sheer manipulation, of course. For god’s sake, you have groupies. You have a whole team who is building and maintaining Facebook right this second in Palo Alto, and if those people are not your friends, the world can kiss your ass.
You don't protest, because within the four walls of the deposition room, Eduardo’s words are not meant for you. They are meant for the lawyers and the court reporter.
But that look is different, because only you can read it.
I was in love with you.
You reply, with a deep breath and unmoving eyes.
I would have done the same.
Eduardo turns back, and continues with the story of the day of reckoning.
Again, you tune out the words. That tale is not told for you.
take four. They kissed in a corner
They are under the staircase, where it’s dark, narrow and dusty, but there is no surveillance camera.
They are desperately searching for what they know is long gone.
They bite. They lick.
They hunger for the familiar touch.
But neither of them gives in.
They push. They pull.
They know that the building is empty, and even if they cross the line, nobody would know.
But neither of them gives in.
They touch each other, in places they know will make the other man go weak.
They get louder, heated with desire and anger.
But neither of them gives in.
They make each other bruise, in the most obvious places.
They have done their worst, long, long ago.
They no longer care because there’s nothing else to lose.
But neither of them gives in.
They whisper filth in each other’s ear, the words used to be intimate.
They don’t deserve each other.
But neither of them lets go.
just because.
pairing: Mark/Eduardo
author: reogulus
rating: PG-13
wordcount: 936
disclaimer: Not mine, not true, not used for profit.
notes: A collection of half-ass fills for several tsn_kinkmeme prompts. I apologize in advance to the OPs for twisting their ideas.
take one. he was sick.
He is sitting on a windowsill in the empty lobby of the law firm.
“Mark.”
His toes curl against the roof of his sneakers at the sound of Eduardo’s voice. As the taller man walks into Mark’s periphery, he does not even blink.
“Are you okay?”
He offers no answer, fingers dancing with practiced grace. Codes are rolling onto the screen at the same furious speed.
“I know about it,” he catches the hitch in Eduardo’s breath, “about your -”
Mark shuts the laptop with unnecessary force and looks up at Eduardo with hollow, bloodshot eyes. He silently dares the other man to finish the sentence.
“Mark,” Eduardo’s voice lowers, and the well-concealed frustration shows. “addiction is a legitimate disease.”
“For Christ’s sake, Wardo, it’s not substance abuse, it’s just coding.”
Eduardo rubs the ridge of his nose and lets out a long exhale. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“No,” Mark shakes his head, his voice barely audible. “I think you meant, ‘don’t do this to yourself and make me watch.’ ”
Eduardo’s face is calm, but his hands are trembling.
“Don’t make this about me, Mark. Would you let the world know that the CEO of Facebook is struggling with addiction to coding? Would you let me know, if we still have the entire country between us at this moment? It’s only because we sit in the same goddamn room every fucking day that I would have any clue about this.”
“You are the one who sued me, Wardo.”
A long stretch of silence later he opens the laptop again, but Eduardo rips it from his hands and sets it on the floor. He leans in, arms propped against the windowpane behind Mark, his hair brushing against Mark’s neck. But it’s been way too long and Mark has forgotten how to breathe the same air as Eduardo, so he just holds his breath and waits.
“Do you honestly think,” Eduardo whispers in his ear, “Do you honestly think that I care about this deposition more than your well-being? That I would rather trap you here and see you suffer from your disease, than let you go seek treatment?”
“No,” Mark says, “but that's beside the point.”
Eduardo pulls back and gently swipes a thumb against Mark’s ghostly pale cheek. He smiles, but his eyes don’t.
“I can't be your cure, Mark. Not anymore.”
take two. His seat was empty.
He walks out of the room as discreetly as possible. The heavy mahogany door shuts without a sound.
He closes his eyes and leans against the wood. The conversations inside is reduced to a low hum, audible but much less aggressive. He wants to turn a deaf ear but he’s too tired for any pretense.
“I went to my friend for the money...was also my best friend.”
He digs his nails into his palm and tries not to pick up on every nuance of that statement.
By the time he returns to the room, Mark’s chair has already turned the other way. He pretends to take notes on his legal pad to hide his obvious distraction.
what kind of best friend
He crosses those words out. The ink bleeds through the thin yellow paper.
The court reporter looks at him curiously when he asks for the transcript but says nothing as she hands it to him.
The sentence is easy enough to spot. He reads it over, once, twice, he can feel imprints of ink under his right index finger. He mouths those words quietly, they linger on his tongue like gossamer.
If there is still merit to that statement, it is much too light. Only his heart is heavy, now.
take three. What his eyes said.
“I was your only friend. You had one friend.”
You know it’s sheer manipulation, of course. For god’s sake, you have groupies. You have a whole team who is building and maintaining Facebook right this second in Palo Alto, and if those people are not your friends, the world can kiss your ass.
You don't protest, because within the four walls of the deposition room, Eduardo’s words are not meant for you. They are meant for the lawyers and the court reporter.
But that look is different, because only you can read it.
I was in love with you.
You reply, with a deep breath and unmoving eyes.
I would have done the same.
Eduardo turns back, and continues with the story of the day of reckoning.
Again, you tune out the words. That tale is not told for you.
take four. They kissed in a corner
They are under the staircase, where it’s dark, narrow and dusty, but there is no surveillance camera.
They are desperately searching for what they know is long gone.
They bite. They lick.
They hunger for the familiar touch.
But neither of them gives in.
They push. They pull.
They know that the building is empty, and even if they cross the line, nobody would know.
But neither of them gives in.
They touch each other, in places they know will make the other man go weak.
They get louder, heated with desire and anger.
But neither of them gives in.
They make each other bruise, in the most obvious places.
They have done their worst, long, long ago.
They no longer care because there’s nothing else to lose.
But neither of them gives in.
They whisper filth in each other’s ear, the words used to be intimate.
They don’t deserve each other.
But neither of them lets go.
just because.