[PART THREE] OVERFLOW POST
THE SOCIAL NETWORK PART THREE OVERFLOW POST
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * FILL LIST
PART THREE
PLEASE REPOST PROMPT AND IN A REPLY, A LINK TO PREVIOUS PARTS AND THEN CONTINUE ON. thank you.
ASK THE MODS * FAQ * DISCUSSION * FILL LIST
PART THREE
PLEASE REPOST PROMPT AND IN A REPLY, A LINK TO PREVIOUS PARTS AND THEN CONTINUE ON. thank you.
She didn't say a thing, hunched up against the window in a polo neck that drowned her, so he didn't either, just picked a radio station he didn't think will drive either of them to insanity, and drove. Cam might be the polite one, but that didn't make Tyler actively rude. If he was, especially under these circumstances, his mother would come and smack him over the head.
His mother might come and smack him over the head anyway, if she found out about this. He cast a glance over at Zuckerberg, and tried not to remember that, beneath the top, her shoulders were marked where he'd lipped at them last night, looking down at Cam's head between her legs as she keened softly. That she'd woken up this morning in the ragged nest of sheets, curled up around him as Cam ran out for bagels, and she'd looked relaxed, smiling a little, until she'd woken up and realised where she was. He tried to bring it back, arguing with the coffee maker, but it hadn't worked.
"Thanks," Zuckerberg said, as he stopped in the drop off area, and reached back to hook her duffle-- which contained surprisingly little, given how long the depositions had lasted, even by her standards-- and hand it to her.
"Pleasure," he said, and held her gaze until her eyes flickered down. "If there's ever anything I can do, anything either of us can do--"
"Yes," she said, lying flatly, without any real subterfuge, and Tyler reached out for her wrist. It was thin, almost fragile in his hand, and she went very still. He could feel the pulse beating. Last night, in the cab back to their condo, Cam had kissed her wrists, over and over, licking at the pulse point as Tyler wrapped an arm around her waist, whispering in her ear, all the things they wanted to do with her. She was remembering that as well, he could tell.
"Anything," he said, and he could tell that his voice was rough, and he didn't give a damn, "Cam'll slay your dragons, I'll just punch 'em."
"You're a pair of Harvard gentlemen," she said, which wasn't an answer at all, and she swung out of the car, and headed for the terminal. Tyler watched her go-- a small woman with wildly curling hair, in a black polo neck that sagged on her small frame, and a tight pencil skirt that she could hardly walk in, and curled his fingers around the wheel, ever so slowly. Someone had done a number on Mark Zuckerberg, had done it before last night, had turned her from the bright spark with the biggest balls in Harvard to a woman who wore a business suit and pretended that she liked it. Some PR guy, probably, who wanted her to play nice. Marcella Zuckerberg had never played nice in her life. Tyler had heard his elder sister, Alicia, praising her for it, last Christmas, until he'd suggested that she and their mother go start the Zuckerberg Fan Club.
Reminded, he texted Liss quickly Gave yr black polo neck to last night's hookup. U look like a vampire in it anyway. The cell chirupped in reply almost immediately.
FU, asshole. Buy me a new one, or I'll take urs for my next guy.
U need to stop fucking twinks first, sis
I'll pick a Dutch rower. I'm only in Vienna, Amsterdam's not that far away
Tyler glared at the phone. And then throw urself in a canal out of remorse?
I can swim. :)
There was a beep. Lunch over, going back. I expect Ann Taylor.
Have fun, doll.
Always do, little bro. Love to Cam.
Behind him, someone lent on their horn, and Tyler gunned it out of the drop off area, and started back for Central Park. By the time he got there, Cam would have finished his morning routine, and they could talk.
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The coffee was ready. Cameron poured himself a cup, and switched over to Gawker, waiting for it to cool a little. News of the settlements hadn't hit yet: that would probably come on Monday. The money certainly would. Mark's lawyers had said so, while she sat unsmiling beside them, chin up.
Even thinking about that made him feel like a shit. It had seemed such a good idea, the previous night, when they'd found her sitting in the bar, and she'd smiled at them, that smile he'd never seen before, and they'd ended up necking in an elevator, with his hand up her skirt as Ty lipped and bit at her mouth, until they'd stumbled into a cab and come back here.
And then he'd come home with breakfast, this morning, and she'd been sitting there, her hair tangled, curled up around herself like a woman who'd made a wretched mistake, and neither of them had had the slightest idea how to make any of it better.
The door clicked open, and Ty called: "Cam!"
"Kitchen!" Cameron called back, and Ty came in.
"I took her to the airport. I think she got her flight, I only dropped her off."
"Do you think we did the right thing?"
Ty opened his mouth. Cam could almost see his flip response When a woman's that uncomfortable in her clothes, its only nice to take her out of them, but that wasn't what he said.
"Fucked if I know."
"Great," Cameron said, and went back to his e-mails. "Lunch with Div?"
"Sure."
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Enjoying this fill so far and I'm honestly excited for the rest. Keep writing! :D
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It is trying to turn into a mad crack universe. I am trying not to let it.
(~headdesk~ And 1b is not complete, because it starts in the middle. Gah. Will repost when I get home.)
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The bed was a disaster area, so before he left he shoved the sheets in the washer. Mark's shirt tumbled out while he was stripping the mattress, the buttons still torn where Ty had run his hand down them the previous evening, bending in to scrape his teeth over her collarbone, while Cameron stroked her hips through the thin fabric of that ridiculous skirt.
He wished, suddenly, remembering the way she'd looked, in the deposition rooms, and the previous night, like she couldn't walk straight, trapped, that he'd ripped the skirt as well. Admittedly, both of their sisters were built like well nourished valkyries, but they could have lent her some of Mama's leggings.
He threw the shirt on the dry cleaning pile: the cleaners would be able to match the buttons, grabbed a chilled bottle of water from the fridge, turned the washer on, and headed out.
It was raining, a thin drizzle that seeped through his hoodie, and soaked his t-shirt, and Central Park was bare of all but the most determined runners. Cameron headed for the reservoir, and started around the track, lifting his face into the cold, wet, air.
When he got home, heart thumping, and water bottle empty, the washer had finished its cycle, and the answerphone was blinking. A call from their parents, probably. They slept late, on Saturdays: his mother might have one or two lessons in the afternoon, but the morning was always spent in the kitchen, Mama doing the crossword while Dad tried to make a perfect-- or at least, unburnt, pancake. He left it for when Ty got back, and went to transfer the sheets to the dryer, looking over at the clock. Too early for his weekly call to Nikki: she was at Stanford, so he started the coffee machine, and checked his e-mails.
One from their mother, about a fundraiser for one of her pet music projects. One from Div, asking if they wanted to have dinner at 1:30 or so. (Answer, yes.) One from their lawyers, wanting a meeting on Monday to discuss the settlement. One from Nikki, about their Spring Break visit. One from Liss with photos of the Vienna Statsoper.
The coffee was ready. Cameron poured himself a cup, and switched over to Gawker, waiting for it to cool a little. News of the settlements hadn't hit yet: that would probably come on Monday. The money certainly would. Mark's lawyers had said so, while she sat unsmiling beside them, chin up.
Even thinking about that made him feel like a shit. It had seemed such a good idea, the previous night, when they'd found her sitting in the bar, and she'd smiled at them, that smile he'd never seen before, and they'd ended up necking in an elevator, with his hand up her skirt as Ty lipped and bit at her mouth, until they'd stumbled into a cab and come back here.
And then he'd come home with breakfast, this morning, and she'd been sitting there, her hair tangled, curled up around herself like a woman who'd made a wretched mistake, and neither of them had had the slightest idea how to make any of it better.
The door clicked open, and Ty called: "Cam!"
"Kitchen!" Cameron called back, and Ty came in.
"I took her to the airport. I think she got her flight, I only dropped her off."
"Do you think we did the right thing?"
Ty opened his mouth. Cam could almost see his flip response When a woman's that uncomfortable in her clothes, its only nice to take her out of them, but that wasn't what he said.
"Fucked if I know."
"Great," Cameron said, and went back to his e-mails. "Lunch with Div?"
"Sure."
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