[PART FOUR] CLOSED
THE SOCIAL NETWORK KINK MEME
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * RESEARCH * FILL LIST * PART ONE * PART ONE (OVERFLOW) * PART TWO * PART TWO (OVERFLOW) * PART THREE * (PART THREE (OVERFLOW)
GENERAL RULES;
IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine ( Read more... )
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * RESEARCH * FILL LIST * PART ONE * PART ONE (OVERFLOW) * PART TWO * PART TWO (OVERFLOW) * PART THREE * (PART THREE (OVERFLOW)
GENERAL RULES;
IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine ( Read more... )
Not that he expected it to be, or whatever.
But. There's a car waiting at the La Guardia, with Eduardo L. Saverin typed on a card held by an unfamiliar man in a fucking suit, and he carefully hoists his luggage into the trunk and gets into the back.
His phone buzzes once he's inside, and it's a number he doesn't recognize.
"Hello?"
"Eduardo?"
The voice is clipped, female, business-like but kind.
"Yeah, who- who is this?"
"Hello, Eduardo, I'm Lena, Ricardo Saverin's assistant. Mr. Saverin is deeply sorry he couldn't meet you at the airport, and he is looking forward to meeting you tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Mr. Saverin will be home around nine PM. In the meantime, please feel free to unpack. Your room is up the stairs and to the left. There is food in the refrigerator. Will you be needing anything else?"
"I- I guess not," Eduardo says slowly, a little freaked out.
"We're all looking forward to meeting you," she says, and her voice warms a little. "I'm sure Ricardo will want you to come by the office at some point."
"Okay," Eduardo says. "Um. Thanks."
---
No one comes home until eleven. Eduardo throws his suitcase onto the massive bed, eats the pre-packaged food in the fridge, and ends up on the couch, flipping idly through the channels, his ears attuned to any tiny noise or movement from outside.
He's thinking about calling back the number on his cell phone to see if Ricardo got in a car crash or was abducted or something when the door opens. He fumbles for the remote, flips off the TV, and stands up.
His father comes in, keys in one hand, suitcase in the other, and Eduardo fidgets, says finally, "Um, hi," and Ricardo jerks upward, nearly drops his things.
"Jesus," he says roughly, voice deep, and Eduardo goes hot all over. His stomach is flipping.
"Hi," he says again, and Ricardo flicks the kitchen light on.
"I thought you'd be asleep," he says. Eduardo shakes his head.
"I don't sleep till twelve, usually," he says inanely, and his father nods, clears his throat, steps closer to him.
"Ricardo Saverin," he says, and holds out his hand. Eduardo takes it.
"Eduardo," he says, and his father steps back. In the weak light of the kitchen he looks shadowed, strong-jawed. He's thin like Eduardo but more muscled, broader shoulders. His hair is graying.
"I hope everything was- was satisfactory," Ricardo says gruffly, and Eduardo nods quickly.
"Yeah, it's great," he says, and laughs nervously, then clamps his mouth shut.
"I have to do some work before I sleep," he says, and nods at him, goes upstairs.
Eduardo leans against the counter, chest tight, takes a couple deep breaths. Okay. Okay, he can totally do this.
---
That's kind of how it goes.
The next day his father stands awkwardly in the threshold of his room, raises an eyebrow at Eduardo's meticulously packed, color-coded suitcase, and Eduardo goes red and flips the top over it.
"Good morning," he says. "I have work in a half hour."
"Okay," Eduardo says, tongue-tied like he is with people he doesn't know well, and his father nods once and leaves.
He comes home at ten, that night. Eduardo knows he works in the city, in some kind of law. He's not sure.
But it goes like that, for a week, and Eduardo is really fucking bored. He knows practically every channel, even though his dad gets the weird ones in the 700s like the Sundance Channel and ESPN 8.
He doesn't know what to do.
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