fic: now you see me (mark/eduardo); 2/3
Everything is fine, until it isn't.
It starts with something small, with "Mark? It's time to eat dinner."
Mark rips his headphones down to his shoulders, glares at Wardo as though it's going to make him go away (it won't, he's found). "I need to finish this."
"You need to eat," and Wardo puts a hand on his shoulder.
Mark shakes him off, shaking his head. "I need to finish this."
Wardo straightens. "Fine." His voice is clipped, even, but Mark doesn't notice, focusing again on the update.
It's not that Facebook is more important than Wardo, it's just that it needs more attention right now.
And if Wardo doesn't get it, fuck that. Fuck him.
(Mark's going to pretend he doesn't care.)
//
They argue, that night.
Wardo's yelling at him about dinner and Mark hasn't slept in too long and he's not entirely sure what's going on until he hears, "I'm out of here, asshole" and the door slamming.
Mark stares at the place where Wardo was.
He rolls his eyes.
He doesn't give a fuck.
So Wardo wants to leave? Good. Fine and fucking dandy because Mark doesn't give a shit.
//
It's a day before he lets himself think about Wardo.
Twenty-four hours and Mark's coded for most of them, stopping only for Red Bull and bathroom breaks.
He's at the office and Dustin and Chris are staring at him and Mark's pretty sure Eduardo's staying with one of them but he doesn't know which.
He doesn't much care to find out.
He keeps coding.
//
He hears words going on above him but above it all he hears asshole and so he keeps typing, past all of them.
"Wardo's going back to Singapore," he hears Dustin say and snaps his head up, pulls his headphones down.
Dustin glares at him. "So you are listening. I suggest you call him and tell him you're sorry because if you fucking don't he's going to be gone and it'll all be your fault."
Mark glares. "It wasn't my fault. He -"
"I don't care. I could care less about fault. Mark, fuck, you're going to lose the best thing that's ever happened to you, barring perhaps Facebook, because of your pride?"
When you put it that way, yes, it does sound fairly silly.
Mark shuts his eyes.
Dustin puts a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's scary. But - you can't go through life being afraid of things like this." His voice is soft.
"I'm not scared." Mark shrugs him off, and pulls out his phone.
Dustin nods. "Good," and leaves.
He dials the number before his nerves get the better of him and lets it ring.
Wardo answers. "What do you want, Mark?"
"I'm sorry," Mark says.
"I don't care."
"Talk to me."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want - you can't leave again, okay, Wardo, don't leave me, at least not without - talking about this. It was a fight, couples have those, especially us." He stops. "Please."
"I'll be - we can talk at your house later." Wardo licks his lips; Mark can hear it. "I'll see you then."
Mark nods.
//
Wardo's already there when he gets home.
He stands up when Mark gets out of his car and is running to him, grabbing him, kissing him before Mark can say a word.
"Fuck," Mark whispers when they part.
Wardo raises an eyebrow, smirking. It looks like an expression Mark would make. "Let's go back inside."
He presses Mark against the door when they get there, kissing him hard, insistent. Mark's legs part and Wardo steps between them, pressing against him, and Mark can barely handle it.
His head thunks back against the wall and Wardo smirks again, bites at his collarbone.
"Bedroom?" Mark gets out, eyes shut, and Wardo nods, kissing him again, dragging him down the hallway.
He shoves Mark down on the bed when they get there and doesn't waste a moment before crawling on top of him, straddling him.
Mark has never seen this side of Wardo before, this possessive side of him, but he likes it, wants to see more of it.
He leans up, bites at Wardo's jaw, gets his hands pressed to the sheets in return, and doesn’t move.
"You left," Mark accuses, without any real heat.
Wardo freezes, bites at Mark's neck. "You were an asshole."
"Don't call me that," Mark hisses, staring up at him, "I just -"
"Fuck," Wardo whispers, and then, "we'll finish this discussion later."
He nearly rips off Mark's shirt and Mark's harder than he's ever been before. Wardo's biting at his nipples, and he moans around Wardo's name, eyes shutting, hips jerking up.
Wardo leans up to get his own shirt off and Mark switches their positions, because he's not an asshole and he's keeping the control.
"Fuck," Wardo whimpers, and Mark licks at his nipples, palming Wardo through his jeans.
Mark pulls away.
Wardo lets out a strangled sob, staring at him.
Mark raises an eyebrow at him and Wardo's hips are jerking. Mark stops him with a hand on his thigh and Wardo lets out another whimper that goes straight to Mark's cock.
He closes his eyes for a moment because it's all too much and then he's peeling down Wardo's jeans, slowly, tossing them to the side.
He runs his hand over Wardo's cock, light, experimental.
Wardo lets out another strangled sound, hips jerking up again.
"Stay. Still," Mark hisses through his teeth, pressing down on Wardo's thighs.
He gets a nod in return, and Wardo bites down on his lower lip.
Mark kisses him, then, licking at the indentations in Wardo's lip, and his hand squeezes Wardo's thigh.
He feels Wardo's cock twitch and he pulls away to raise an eyebrow.
Wardo swallows, visibly, and bites his lip again.
Mark pulls away further, pressing both hands on Wardo's thighs, rubbing lightly.
"Fuck," Wardo hisses, and he's shaking with the effort of keeping still.
Mark kisses him again and whispers "You don't need to be still," and keeps his hands on Wardo's thighs - and under him he feels Wardo's hips moving, jerking, and his nails dig into his thighs and Wardo's coming between them, letting out a gasp against Mark's lips.
Mark pulls away, and he's so hard it hurts and Wardo came from nothing more than Mark's hands on his thighs.
And fuck if that's not the hottest thing Mark's ever seen.
He's blushing - which, what the fuck, does he really not see how hot that is? - and reaching up to drag Mark down with him, pull off his jeans and boxers, sliding down Mark before he can say a word.
Mark comes too quickly and Wardo kisses the inside of his thigh with a smile.
//
Later, Wardo brings it up again.
"You were being an asshole."
"My work is important to me."
"I want to be important to you, too," Wardo says, under his breath.
Mark snorts. "Don't be stupid, of course you're important."
Wardo leans up, stares at him. "What - really?"
And maybe that's it - maybe it's insecurity that's caused this. "Of course - fuck, Wardo, of course you - you mean a lot to me."
Wardo closes his eyes and leans against Mark, kissing his stomach. "I'm sorry I left."
"I'm not," Mark says, grinning. "We had fantastic sex."
Wardo smiles, a real smile, and he looks almost scared. "I'm sorry if I was out of line, with the -"
"Never," Mark says, and presses a kiss to his lips. "You're not - fuck, you're not out of line, ever."
He thinks I love you but he doesn't say it, again, because it'll be cheap, because - because he's scared of his feelings not returned, doesn't know how to deal with that if it's the case.
Wardo stares at him for a moment, as though he's pondering it, and then grins. "You - I don't - it shouldn't be this easy."
"What do you mean?"
"I shouldn't - it can't be this simple, after a fight like that."
Mark shrugs. "We'll always have fights. We'll always recover."
"How can you be so sure?" Wardo asks, whispers.
Because I love you. "Because I'm not giving you up that easily."
It sounds trite to his own ears, but it seems to be enough for Wardo, who smiles a pleased, secret smile.
"I'm not, either," he says, and licks his lips.
Mark kisses him.
Perhaps they haven't talked enough, but that can be for tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
//
Mark is most certainly not freaking out.
The thing of it is - and he doesn't like to admit it but people tell him that it's true - that he's afraid of being left.
He's always had abandonment issues, is the way that Chris puts it, but Mark thinks he's just being over-dramatic, as per usual.
He just - doesn't like to be left behind.
He doesn't like to be sure of where he's going one day and have that ripped out from beneath him.
(That's what happened, before.
One day Wardo was there and then he wasn't.
Mark couldn't handle it.
Dustin still brings it up, sometimes, when they're drunk. He turns to Mark and says things like Are you okay? and Mark cringes but he appreciates it, really.
He remembers, a long time ago, remembers being at a party for some fucking thing and running into the bathroom, standing over the sink, heaving because he couldn't get the feeling of emptiness out of his stomach. He remembers trembling, fingers unable to keep a proper grip on the porcelain, and missing something he hadn't realized he'd had before he lost it.
He remembers Dustin, running in, because if there was one person to get it, always, it was Dustin, is Dustin.)
He opens his eyes, shakes his head, because that's behind him - because Wardo's not going to leave him again, not even if he doesn't love back - because he wouldn't do that, to Mark.
Would he?
//
Mark is terrified.
He feels the words on his tongue and he knows that they're true but he doesn't know if Wardo will believe him.
There's a lot of shit between them, behind them (in front of them?), and their relationship is real but he doesn't know how much it means, to Wardo.
//
He's frightened and he's jumpy, now, and Wardo notices, of course he does.
He pulls away, frowning. "Mark?" he asks, after Mark's jumped every time Wardo's hand landed on his skin.
Mark swallows. "Yeah?"
Wardo raises an eyebrow.
Mark closes his eyes.
"Mark," and his voice is too close for this, too near Mark. "Mark, what's wrong?"
There's a hand on his arm and one on his hip and Mark cannot think, can't do anything but breathe, shaky, and he's surrounded by Wardo.
"Mark?" and he sounds nervous, now.
Mark opens his eyes. "I love you," and it's terrifying and natural, all at the same time.
Wardo swallows.
Mark doesn't blink, doesn't move his eyes.
"I - what?" and Wardo's voice is sheltered, and Mark can't fucking read him for the first time in his fucking life.
Mark bites at his lip. "I - love you," because he said it once and he'll say it again and he's not going to let Wardo take saying it away from him, even if he takes - everything else.
(Please don't let him take everything else.)
And then Wardo's laughing, smiling, face-splittingly wide, and that isn't a phrase that people say but Mark doesn't give a fuck.
Wardo says it back.
He whispers it into Mark's hip, "I love you," soft and sweet, like a secret, and Mark arches up against him, fingers pressing against the back of Wardo's neck, and he hears a sharp intake of breath and then Wardo's on top of him, pressing him down onto the couch, kissing him, rough.
"Please," he hears him whisper, and Mark's mind freezes on that.
"What do you want?" he asks, barely a breath.
"Touch me," and his voice is cracked, broken, already.
Mark did that. Mark's the one making Wardo like this, flushed and wide-eyed, begging to be touched.
And Mark doesn't know what to do with that. He swallows, thick, and slowly, so slowly, removes Wardo's clothing, kissing each inch of skin until Wardo's writhing under him.
"Please," he says, a broken whisper, and Mark nods.
He fucks him slowly, and Wardo tries to shift against him but Mark keeps a hand on his hip, almost a warning, and he stills.
Wardo comes without being touched, spilling over both of them, and Mark follows quickly, biting into Wardo's shoulder, muffling his shout.
It's surreal, and they look at each other for a long moment, and Mark swallows, reaches out to trace Wardo's cheek.
"I love you," he says again, and it's easy, like code, like kissing Wardo, like walking into the kitchen and having a cup of coffee waiting for him.
Wardo smiles. "I love you, too," and he kisses him, smiling against Mark's lips.
He sleeps.
//
Things aren't different, when they wake up.
Wardo still smiles at him the same way, and Mark stands on his tiptoes to kiss him, and, yeah, he's becoming far too dependent on him -
but he can't make himself care, not when Wardo's laughing into his mouth, pulling him tight, whispering soft I love you's against his ear before Mark leaves.
He's happy, he thinks, and he doesn't know if he deserves it but he's not going to complain.
//
Mark understands what people mean, now.
He’s never gotten the whole I am so in love, I’d die for this person types of relationships - it seems unhealthy, bordering obsessive.
He doesn’t know if he’d die for Wardo but he loves him, more than words can say.
He doesn’t know how to use his words, but he thinks Wardo understands - because sometimes he kisses the spot just below Mark’s ear and whispers “Te amo, querido,” against his skin and Mark fucking melts.
(The first time this happens he doesn’t bother trying to get to the bedroom, just grabs Eduardo by the hips and pushes him against the table, licking into his mouth, hands squeezing tight against his hips.
Wardo had come almost untouched, hips pushing against Mark’s, and he’d gotten him against the floor, swallowing him down whole, and Mark had almost screamed when he came.
Wardo had grinned at him, lazy and soft, and Mark had kissed him until they both got hard again, lazily rocking against one another on the tile floor until they came, hot and pulling over both of them.
“I love you,” Wardo had whispered in his ear, and Mark had shuddered, hot, and kissed him again, harsh, teeth and tongue and want, pouring out of him.)
He’s never going to get tired of hearing Wardo say that.
I love you.
He’s never going to get tired of saying it, either. He tries, now, every day - he says it whenever he remembers, whenever it crosses his mind, because for all that he’s a cold-hearted asshole (depending on who you ask) he wants Wardo to know just how much he means.
“I love you,” he whispers, in Wardo’s ear as he’s making dinner one night.
Wardo turns around, surprised, and Mark kisses him, hot and filthy against the counter, dropping to his knees, teasing him, light flicks of his tongue, and Wardo comes all over his face, biting into his hand to muffle a cry.
Their dinner burns but neither of them mind; they order Chinese and eat it in the backyard, Mark leaning back against Wardo’s legs.
//
Things are sort of perfect.
Mark’s not one to think like that - he doesn’t think many things can be perfect, doesn’t really believe in that idea (the perfect fairy-tale, he tells himself, is bullshit, a farce) but it’s close enough, with Wardo.
It’s legs tangled together on the couch and Wardo picking Mark up when he forgets what he has waiting for him; he comes in when Mark’s not home by midnight and pulls him away from the computer with gentle kisses and whispers of “you can finish tomorrow, Mark, come home, honey” and Mark isn’t stupid enough to turn that down.
It feels too domestic, almost, and Mark waits for the inevitable end to the happiness, waits for everything to be ripped out from beneath him, everything to go wrong - or, at least, something to go wrong.
Even so, he’s not entirely prepared when it does.
//
It starts with Sean.
He’s talking to Mark at the office, leaning against his desk, and Mark’s laughing - and it’s late, all right, and he’s about to leave and so he pulls Sean into a hug - he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in a while, a few days, but the update’s gone well and Sean’s sober and he’s allowed to hug him, he thinks.
He hears the snap of a door and looks up to see Wardo walking away, storming away.
“What,” Mark says, halfway dumbfounded, and it takes Sean pushing him away (Get out of here, Mark!) for him to start running after him.
“Wardo,” he says, soft, when he gets within earshot.
He whips around, eyes fiercely hot. “What was that.”
“I was - what?”
“That’s a good question. What were you doing?”
“Saying goodbye to Sean.”
Wardo lets out a sound that sounds like a sob and Mark freezes, because -
“You can’t - Wardo, you can’t think there’s anything between Sean and me -”
“Oh? And why can’t I?”
“Because that’s fucking ridiculous, I love you, not -”
“Don’t you pull that shit on me, I remember Palo Alto -”
“Don’t you dare bring that up -” and he cuts himself off because they’re shouting, now, and he pulls Wardo outside, into his car, away from anyone that might hear.
As soon as they get inside they’re shouting at each other again, not moving from the parking lot, Wardo looking close to fucking tears which isn’t fair, Mark hasn’t done anything wrong.
“You never think about anyone but yourself!” he shouts, and that’s it, that’s the last fucking straw.
“If that’s really what you think, then get out of my car,” Mark says, voice low, deadly. He turns to look at Wardo, and he’s not sure what he sees there. He loves him but not like this, not when it’s jealousy years in the making and hate behind eyes filled with tears. He doesn’t know this Wardo, this Wardo shouting at him for hugging someone else, and it’s been too long without sleep for him to be able to deal with this. “We can talk about this later if you want but right now I don’t want you here.”
Wardo’s own eyes widen before narrowing, sharp. “What?” His voice is icy.
“If you honestly believe that after all this time I’d do something like that, clearly we don’t know each other. Get. Out. Of. My. Car.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel and he forces himself to keep his eyes on Eduardo, biting down hard on his lower lip.
“Fine.”
And Wardo gets out, without another word.
Mark drives away, forcing himself to think about anything else.
//
continued here.