fic: yes we can
fic: yes we can ( I KNOW, I KNOW, IT'S PRETENTIOUS, I RAN OUT OF LINES)
fandom: the social network
pairing: mark/eduardo
notes: okay, HERE'S the last part of my white house AU. title is from obama's victory speech, the full line is:
"And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can."
warning: so fluffy teeth may rot i recommend putting a protective shield of toothpaste on now
So it's decided then.
He makes reservations at a restaurant. He stares at the ring for ten minutes. He puts on a suit. Then he stares at himself in the mirror, shakes his head, and puts on a hoodie. At least if he's rejected (oh god oh god please let him not say no) he won't have a fucking suit on.
He emails Deb-
i'm going to do it tonight.
And rolls his eyes when she sends back a terrifying message full of exclamation points and capital letters and tips.
At the end she's written- maybe I can only say this because i'm writing, not talking in person, but i'm so fucking proud of you mark. we all are. and I LOVE YOU. NO MATTER WHAT. so go get em!!!!!!!!!!
---
“Um, Eduardo,” Mark says that night, after they've ordered, and proceeds to go through a minute long coughing fit. Eduardo chews a mouthful of bread and grabs another roll from the basket as Mark drains his water glass.
“You okay?” he asks with his mouth full. Mark nods.
“Eduardo,” he says. “Uh, can we talk about something?”
“We may,” Eduardo says grandiosely, swallowing the bite. “And in the future, Mark, you don’t even need to ask before you start a conversation.”
Mark doesn’t even smile, just looks at him nervously. Eduardo cocks his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Okay. So. Eduardo.”
“Mark.”
“Um. So, Eduardo. It’s been, what, like a year?”
“Since?”
“Since we started- whatever, duh, Eduardo. Dating.”
“Okay, yeah. Like thirteen months.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Okay. So, um, Eduardo. What I was wondering I guess was maybe if- you-” he exhales, frustrated, shakes his head. Eduardo bites his lip to keep from smiling. “Wardo, do you want to get married?”
Eduardo stops smiling. His mouth falls open.
In the silence, Mark bites his nail nervously and takes a huge sip of water, nearly chokes on it.
“Mark,” Eduardo murmurs, breathless. “Are you- you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“No,” Mark says sarcastically, defensively. “Yes- yeah, Eduardo, I’m serious.”
“Oh my God,” Eduardo whispers to himself. “Oh my fucking- Jesus, well, yes, obviously, Mark, you idiot. I thought you were having a fucking panic attack. Fucking yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Mark nods, and as Eduardo leans back in his chair, still breathing irregularly, Mark gets up and leans down and kisses him hot and wet until he nearly forgets they’re in public, they’re in the middle of a restaurant, and he pulls away and Eduardo’s smiling, crinkly-eyed, like he’s staring into the sun.
“Mark,” he keeps saying. “Oh my God.”
Mark leans back, satisfied, curiously content, and belatedly remembers the ring. Shit. That was supposed to come before, wasn't it? He digs it out of his pocket.
Eduardo’s still staring at the table, shell shocked, and Mark grabs for his hand, slides it on, carefully.
“Oh my God,” he says again, staring at it.
“I - my sister helped me. Do you-”
“It’s perfect,” Eduardo murmurs. “Jesus, Mark.”
“Who wants to tell Chris, you or me?” Mark asks, and they grin at each other.
---
When they get home, Mark emails his mom instead of calling, because he values the integrity of his eardrums.
hey mom- eduardo and i are getting married.
She just responds-
WHAT!? WHAT? WHAT? CALL ME IMMEDIATELY
and Deb says-
IS IT A YES TELL ME ITS A YES
he just types-
it is confirmed.
He turns his phone on silent and puts it on the kitchen counter and Eduardo tugs at his hoodie strings, grinning, and pulls him down onto the bed.
He doesn’t check his phone until nine the next morning. He has seventeen missed calls and eight emails and nine texts and Eduardo comes up behind him in the kitchen in his boxers, rubs a hand down Mark’s spine, nudges him aside to get at the coffeemaker.
He grabs the coffee beans from the freezer and Mark sees the glint of the ring. He sticks an entire piece of toast in his mouth to keep himself from smiling.
---
Chris sees the ring during the daily morning meeting and he chokes on his own spit. Eduardo goes pink and puts his hand under the table, and the President looks at Chris bemusedly.
"So sorry, sir," Chris says, coughing, shooting a wide-eyed look at Mark.
Mark grins.
"Oh my God oh my God OH MY GOD," Chris says in one breath, grabbing Eduardo's hand when they leave. "This- Mark- I-"
"You sound kinda like a thirteen year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert," Mark says thoughtfully, and Eduardo snorts.
"I'm not even going to address the fact that you know who Justin Bieber is because oh my God, Mark, you guys, just, congratulations!"
Eduardo smiles soft-eyed and turns his hand over to let Chris see.
"What happened? When? Where? If it was somewhere like the Lincoln Memorial I'm going to die. Oh God, Mark."
"Yesterday, and, thank God it was La Focca. Though I do think Lincoln would have approved."
"Unfounded rumors," Mark says, laughing, and Dustin comes over to see what the fuss is about.
When he sees the ring he starts screaming.
"Jesus, Dustin-"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT I totally called it, I called it, I said you- Chris, you owe me fifty dollars. Mazel tov, you adorable little gaybies!"
"Gaybies?"
"Gay babies," Chris supplies automatically, and then goes red. "Oh God. And Dustin, how many times do I need to tell you, we never made a bet. There is no bet. It doesn't exist."
"Whatever, pay up, sucka. You can buy me dinner."
Chris rolls his eyes and walks off arguing with him, and Eduardo smiles at him and goes into his office.
---
Mark doesn't quite know what to do then.
He calls his mom, because she usually knows things like this.
"Mazel tov, sweetheart!" she yells into the phone, and he hears Annie in the background screaming "Congratulations Mark!"
"Thanks- yeah, Mom, I said- thanks, Mom, can you take it off speakerphone?"
"I'm so excited!" his mom squeals, and Mark nods.
"Yeah, yeah, I- I am too. Mom. I have a question."
"What is it, honey? Oh God, how did it happen, I need every detail, Deb told me a little bit but oh my God, Marky, I'm so happy-"
"Mom!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, what's up?"
"Just - Mom, what do I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, like, I want to get married."
There's a silence, and then his mom says, voice thick, "Oh honey! Talk to your fiance! Oh, Mark, you are so clueless sometimes."
"Thanks," Mark says dryly.
"I'm sorry. Just- just talk to Eduardo! And set a date! And then let me help plan it, remember when I did Annie's, oh my God, it was so gorgeous- the theme was pastels, and it worked so well in the spring-"
"Mom. I don't care about that stuff."
"But you're having a wedding, Mark. Don't you dare just go down to a courthouse or something. You are not taking this wedding away from me."
"Mom, you sound insane."
"Mark, hon, just set a date and then tell me. Oh God, the President's going to be there, isn't he? The President at my baby's wedding, I can't believe it."
"He probably won't come."
"You're inviting him, though. You are."
"Mom..."
"Mark, I don't want to argue about this. But I will. And I will win. Go talk to Eduardo. I love you. Call me soon."
"Okay," Mark says dubiously, and hangs up. He's still confused.
---
He emails Eduardo, because he might be engaged (holy fuck he's engaged) to the guy, but he still feels weird about this.
hey eduardo-
we should set a date for the wedding. and plan it and stuff.
"The wedding", like it's someone else. Mark feels stupid about sending it but he does anyway, and knows Eduardo gets it because he hears him laugh from his office. Dustin peeks over the cubicle quizzically, and Mark waves him away and goes to his office.
"Hi," he says cautiously, and Eduardo looks up, eyes sparkling, grinning.
"We should like plan it and stuff?" he repeats, and cracks up. Mark rolls his eyes and leans against his desk and Eduardo puts his head down on the desk and laughs hysterically.
"It's not that funny," Mark says sullenly, and Eduardo nods, wiping tears away.
"I'm sorry, babe," he says, still biting his lip to keep from laughing. "It was just so- an email. Oh God, Mark, I love you."
Mark shuffles his feet, says nothing, and Eduardo composes himself.
"Let's talk about it. Okay? When- when do you want to get married?"
"As soon as possible," Mark says reflexively, and goes hot. Eduardo's rolling his eyes, smiling, cheeks pink from laughter.
"You better not be envisioning some kind of courthouse elopement," Eduardo says very seriously, shaking his head. "I want my dress and a train, damnit."
"First of all, that's weird, and second of all, you sound like my mom."
"I'm going to choose to be honored by that," Eduardo says. "So, 'the wedding'. Not our wedding, oh no. The wedding. We're wedding planners now, apparently."
"Shut up," Mark grumbles despairingly, and Eduardo positively cackles.
---
In the end, they settle on April.
"A spring wedding!" his mom screams over the phone. She sounds like a five year old at FAO Schwarz. Mark is somewhat terrified.
Do NOT let mom bring out the pastels, that's too gay even for you, his sister sends him.
"I like April," Eduardo says thoughtfully, and that's really all Mark cares about.
---
In January, Eduardo goes to Miami for a day. He says he wants to see his mother, check on his sister's baby, but of course, he ends up in his father's study, standing before him like he always has been. He swallows nervously.
"I said, we're getting married, Pai."
His father's eyes are very sharp. Eduardo is a little nervous, but fuck if his father's going to scare him anymore.
"Where?"
"In the District of Columbia, Father. Where we live."
His father smiles for a second, his shit-eating campaign grin, and Eduardo briefly thinks he's going to go against twenty-seven years of evidence and support him for once.
And then he says, "That's ridiculous. That is not happening."
Eduardo's face goes hot. He shouldn't have expected anything. He remembers Mark saying why are you even going down there and Eduardo's still not sure.
"I love Mark and we're getting married and that- that is not up for discussion," Eduardo says, trying to sound firm. His father is staring at him, naked plain disgust in his face. This is the first time Eduardo has been in the same room with his father without reporters in four years.
"Why are you doing this to me, Eduardo?" he asks, and Eduardo cannot fucking believe this.
"I'm not doing anything to you!" he says, and his father interrupts, talking over him-
"I get it, Eduardo. You have my attention now, you spoilt little child. You've always wanted it, so here it is."
"You don't know anything about me," Eduardo chokes out. "You- this has nothing to do with you."
His father laughs. "Don't delude yourself. You're so goddamn selfish, you always have been. You're not capable of loving anyone."
Eduardo's face is burning and his chest is tight and he feels eight years old again, when his father would twist the skin on his inner wrists when he brought his report card home.
"You- you're- you don't know what you're talking about," he says, and swipes a hand across his eyes. "I'm getting married. I-" he takes a deep breath, steadies himself. He is not eight years old. He is not fifteen, hearing his father tell a reporter that he'd never let his son grow up to live an "immoral lifestyle". He is not a seventeen year old getting kicked out for blowing the housekeeper's son. He is not even nineteen, home on break from that "liberal terrorist college" and watching his father burn his textbooks. He is not. A. Child.
"I'm going to have a fucking wedding with my boyfriend, and after we're going to go home, our home, and he's going to fuck me senseless," he spits out, somewhat childishly really but fuck him fuck everything, and he can see his father's lip curl. He knows that his father wants to hit him, has always wanted to hit him.
"You pathetic slut," his father says.
"Oh yeah, I'm such a slut because I'm going to have sex with my husband," Eduardo says hotly, and this isn't even the point of the discussion and he sounds hysterical, immature, but he wants to hurt his father, rip at him, be better than him.
"It's not a marriage in the eyes of God, it's a sick perversion, so yes, you're a-"
"And of course you're such a saint, father. You fucking hypocrite."
His father's hand twitches at his side, raises in a knee-jerk motion. Eduardo laughs.
"I would love for you to hit me," he whispers, leaning closer. "Give me a couple bruises. See what the good people of Florida would think about adultery and child abuse, right-"
"Shut your fucking perverted mouth and get out of my house."
"Gladly!"
His father slams the door behind him, and Eduardo walks steadily until he's down the driveway and around the corner and sees a couple reporters. How the fuck had they found out? He waves, getting into his cab, and only when they've pulled away and he's said "Miami International, please" does he let himself exhale shakily, press the heels of his hands into his eyes.
He has three new texts from Mark.
chris just fell walking up to the press stand
dustin is crying with laughter
please, please call me soon. text me at least so i know you're alive
Eduardo can't talk to him, not now.
----
On the flight a girl hits on him until she sees his engagement ring, and then coos over him and asks about it.
"You're from Miami, then?"
Eduardo nods politely. "Originally. I work in D.C., now."
"You're not FBI, are you? Or could you not even tell me if you were? How mysterious."
He laughs. "I'm an economic advisor. To- to the President." And that still feels weird to say.
Her eyes go wide. "That's amazing. You meet her in the White House?"
"Hmm?"
She gestures at the ring.
"Oh, um. Yeah." He hesitates, nodding down at the thick elegant gold band, and says, "Him, actually. My fiance."
He hasn't said that out loud before, and his mouth quirks up into a smile. The woman's aww-ing, and Eduardo notices she's reading the Times and she has a Wesleyan sticker on her laptop. He feels somewhat terrible for categorizing like that, but whatever, thank fuck she's presumably liberal.
"It's not the press secretary, is it? He is adorable. That sounds creepy, probably. But he is really the highlight of C-SPAN."
Eduardo laughs. "You watch C-SPAN for Chris. God, he is going to love that. But no- no, my fiance works in Internet communications. He- you might know him because he was on Fox, last year?"
It's dawning on her, and she actually snorts with laughter. "Oh my God, my friends and I used to quote that clip all the time. I love that guy! If that turns you on, go for it," she parrots.
Eduardo ducks his head, grinning. "Yeah, well. Most people would say he's a little bit of an asshole."
"An asshole with good taste," she says, winking and then taking Eduardo's hand in hers and looking more closely at the ring. "This is amazing."
"Thank you," Eduardo says softly. "So, you go to Wesleyan? I went to Brown, myself. I can totally out-liberal you."
---
Eduardo texts Mark when he's back, waves at him the next day, but goes straight into his office. Mark is killing himself over a new release and he barely looks up. It's not until five hours later, in mid-afternoon, that Mark knocks on Eduardo's office door.
"Yeah," Eduardo calls, and Mark comes in, leans against the desk facing Eduardo, knocks his knee against Eduardo's.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
"How was it?"
"It was fine."
"Fine, like, the Senator's on board with repealing DOMA and is officiating our wedding fine, or fine like, you're trying to be all heroic about it fine."
"The latter," Eduardo admits. "But really, Mark, it'll be fine."
"Do you think he'll come?"
"No," Eduardo says, too emphatically, and Mark looks at him knowingly like it had been a litmus test. Eduardo looks down.
"What did he say," Mark asks quietly, nudging Eduardo with his leg again.
"Mark-"
"You might as well tell me."
"And why is that?"
Mark shrugs. "I don't know. So I know what to tell the hired assassin."
Eduardo laughs weakly. "Dumbass."
"He called you a dumbass? The scoundrel!"
Eduardo laughs again, leans his head against Mark's arm for a second.
"He said I was a selfish child and a pervert and a slut," Eduardo says, voice forced calm and jovial like it's a joke, like they'll both suddenly burst out laughing. Mark is silent.
"I- that-" he says finally, slowly, and Eduardo cuts in before he can work himself into a rage and kill the Internet or something. Mark could probably hack everything in Florida in ten minutes. Eduardo does not doubt him.
"Though really I was being provocative. Said after the wedding you were going to fuck me senseless."
Mark doesn't crack a smile, and Eduardo puts a hand on his knee. "It's okay, Mark, seriously. I mean, I'm not fully okay but I'm going to be."
Mark nods to himself. "Wait, does this mean that we're actually going to have to have sex at some point?" he asks quietly, smiling slightly. Eduardo rolls his eyes and squeezes his knee.
"Idiot," he mutters, and Mark goes on-
"I don't know if I'm okay with that. I thought we were getting married because of all the benefits."
"You're right," Eduardo says mock-thoughtfully. "Never mind. I'l have to postpone this engagement until Congress gets us full benefits. If I don't get a tax credit out of this, what was it all for?"
Mark laughs, puts a hand over Eduardo's on his leg.
"My family loves you," he says stiltedly. "More than me, I think."
Eduardo nods, and squeezes Mark's hand.
---
The reporter looks positively hungry. Mark is sort of scared. He doesn't have a great history with reporters.
"So," she says, clicking on her tape recorder and uncapping her pen. "You two are the most widely known couple in the White House after the President and the First Lady. That must be exciting."
Mark snorts. Eduardo nudges his knee against his, briefly, and nods politely.
"How did you two meet?"
Mark has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He has no fucking idea why Chris made them do this. He assured them the reporter was friendly, liberal, and had promised to not write any too-revealing bullshit, but he still resented actually having to talk.
"I was brought in by the administration as a specialist on the economy, and Mark actually showed me around on the first day."
"Can you elaborate on what you do, exactly, Mr. Zuckerberg? So my readers have a clear idea."
"Of course," Mark says, forced polite by Eduardo's sneaky elbow. "I'm the president's online advisor, which means I coordinate the administration's Internet message and oversee the different avenues that entails, like Twitter or Facebook."
"Mark's actually a co-founder of Facebook," Eduardo adds, and the woman's eyes light up.
"Really?"
"Not really. Yes, I did some of the initial work on the site, but I left the company very early on."
"We all know Billy Olsen was just named Person of the Year, you must be acquainted with him, then?"
"He was my roommate, at Harvard."
"Wow," she says. "Did you hear they're making a movie, of his life?"
"No!" Eduardo says, grinning. "Mark, you're going to be in a movie."
"Maybe they'll get, uh, Brad Pitt to play you," the woman says awkwardly, laughing at her own little joke, and Eduardo snorts quietly. Mark rolls his eyes again.
"Wouldn't be very realistic," Eduardo says musingly, and he and the woman laugh. Mark rolls his eyes.
"Hilarious," Mark says dryly, and Eduardo pats his knee placatingly.
"Anyway- what were your feelings upon being outed by the Journal? Panic? Relief? Was there a strong media backlash?"
Eduardo chews his lip.
"I- personally, I was a little dismayed by the manner in which it was made public. It all seemed very Hollywood-esque and seedy and just- unnecessarily personal, if you know what I mean. It has no reflection on my work and what we've accomplished in the White House. At the same time, though-" he glances at Mark, eyes soft, and they make eye contact for a second. Mark coughs and looks down.
"- I'm happy, about it. Now."
The woman is nodding.
"So, the engagement. How did it come about? What made you think, now's the time to get married?" She directs the question at Eduardo, and he laughs.
"You're going to need to ask Mark, since, uh, he proposed."
Mark goes red.
"Oh, really! Mr. Zuckerberg, I apologize."
"Okay, well, I just- um, you know, I was already planning on being with Eduardo, for- uh, for, you know, the rest of my life, and um, as a resident of Washington D.C., we're so privileged in that we have the right to get married, so I just thought- you know, let's uh, let's make it official."
"Practical," the woman says, smiling, nodding to herself.
"Mark is nothing if not practical," Eduardo says fondly.
"And you were engaged... three months ago?"
"Uh, December. So yes. Three months."
"Where'd it happen?" She's leaning forward, like a teenage girl at a sleepover.
"We were out to dinner, in Georgetown. At- La Focca, wasn't it, Mark?"
Mark nods, looking sideways at Eduardo, all put together in his Dolce suit and slicked-back hair, talking about their relationship with a reporter, and he feels a curious little bubble of pride rise in him. Eduardo is so brave. He's the bravest person Mark's ever met.
"And everyone knows your father, of course, Eduardo. Senator Saverin is-" and Mark tunes back in, blinking, clutching Eduardo's knee protectively.
Eduardo's face is impassive, unreadable, but he lets Mark keep his hand there.
"-the Senator has established himself as one of the nation's leading opponents of same sex marriage. How do you reconcile that around the dinner table, so to speak?"
"Um," Eduardo starts, and Mark cuts in, "That has nothing to do with our-"
"Mark. It's fine. My- the Senator and I don't see eye to eye on many issues. Of course, he is still my family, and we maintain a cordial professional relationship."
The woman is looking at them with pity, and Mark's face burns. She should never get to- Eduardo doesn't need her pity.
"So, he'll be coming to the wedding?" she asks, a little hesitantly.
"That's none of your business-" Mark says hotly, and Eduardo shuts him up with a look and a gentle Mark.
"Unfortunately, my father will not able to attend due to scheduling conflicts," he says, voice flat.
"Hmm," the woman says, writing something down. Eduardo's back is straight and stiff, his knee jiggling slightly. Mark puts a hand on it to hold it down, for a second. Eduardo looks at him and smiles automatically, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
---
"She had no right to ask you about that," Mark says furiously, pacing around Eduardo's office. Eduardo is typing idly with one hand and eating an apple.
"Mark, it's not a big deal," he says with his mouth full.
"Really, though. Nosy bitch."
"Mark! Don't be rude. She was doing her job."
Mark shakes his head, pulling out his Blackberry and checking his emails.
"Sorry," he mutters. Eduardo tosses the apple core in the trash.
"It's fine. Just, relax. She was nice, it'll be fine."
Mark nods grudgingly, and Eduardo stands up and pulls him into an embrace.
"One month," he says, and Mark shivers. He nods again.
"I have to finish this mock-up by tomorrow. You want to help me edit tonight?"
"Sure," Mark says, rubbing a hand up Eduardo's back, then pulling away. Eduardo sits back down and digs in his desk for a pen.
"I don't have any work until later," Mark adds. "You want me to go grab sandwiches?"
"Mm, yeah, that'd be great. Turkey and swiss, please."
"I know," Mark says automatically, and Eduardo cocks his head in surprise, grins at him. Mark goes hot.
"I'll be back," he says, opening the door, and ignores Eduardo's awful attempt at a Terminator impression, closing it behind him.
----
The days trickle by quickly and it's the day of his wedding before he can take a breath. His wedding. Jesus Christ.
He's sitting in a classroom of a huge temple in suburban D.C., and Chris is fussing over him. Chris is with him and Dustin is with Eduardo, which hardly seems fair.
"You nervous?" Chris asks, and Mark shrugs.
"I'm nervous," Chris says queasily. "I'm scared Dustin's as-yet-undiagnosed Tourette's will surface during the middle of the ceremony, or Sean will show up and say something-"
"Chris, stop," Mark says, taking the lint roller out of Chris' hands.
Chris looks at him, and a smile breaks out on his face.
"Proud of you," he says, and folds him in a hug.
"Thanks," Mark mutters, pulling away, biting his lip, and he's saved from having to say something deep and bromantic by his mom and sisters rushing in.
"Sweetheart, it's almost time to go, oh God, I'm so nervous-"
"Why is everyone so nervous? It's a wedding, not rocket science," Mark says exasperatedly, and Deb giggles into her hand.
"Okay. Okay. Good luck, my love. Good luck, Chris."
"Thanks, Linda. Congratulations. Your most socially awkward one somehow bloomed."
Deb giggles again and holds out her hand for a high-five. Chris slaps it, then Mark's shoulder, and leaves. His mom and sisters follow, and Deb squeezes his hand.
"You got this," she says like a football coach, and Mark nods. He is not nervous, and he doesn't understand why other people are.
---
Ten minutes later he's outside the synagogue and he thinks he might throw up. So maybe he gets why people thought he'd be nervous. His leg keeps jittering, and he keeps swallowing convulsively.
He somehow makes it down the aisle and then he is staring at Eduardo and Eduardo is looking back and Mark takes a deep breath. He can do this.
---
"Eduardo, I-" he looks at Deb, at his mom in the first row, at Dustin and Chris behind Eduardo, standing side by side, at the fucking President of the United States, sitting there at his, Mark Zuckerberg's fucking wedding.
"Wardo, I - when I was ten my parents got divorced and I didn't think- I didn't think I'd ever want to get married."
He can't look at his mom or his dad or his dad's girlfriend. Eduardo's staring at him, eyes soft.
"I didn't- I thought it was a waste of time. But- Eduardo, when I met you-" he has to stop and take a shaky breath. "I just. I knew I wanted to spend a lot of time with you. Preferably the rest of my life."
Eduardo laughs silently, eyes wide and wet and open.
"And I didn't think we needed to get married. I didn't think I needed a ring, or a certificate, to show how- how much in love with you I was. But- we've been, I've seen so many people who want this, to get married. It means everything, to some people. And I think, I think, I just- hearing these stories, of these people who want to get married but can't, it just- we're so lucky to be here in DC, and I am so lucky to have you."
He sneaks a look away. His mom is crying quietly. Annie's holding her hand, grinning so hard it looks like her face'll freeze that way. Deb gives him a quick thumbs-up, and from behind Eduardo's shoulder, so does Chris.
"And I want you to be part of my family. Officially. Because, Wardo." He clears his throat. "Eduardo, I love you so much."
Eduardo is biting his lip, cheeks flushed.
"And- and that's it," Mark finishes awkwardly, and everyone laughs, and Eduardo laughs full-throated and wet, and it sounds like a sob, but happy. Mark looks at his nose, then his lips, his ear and his eyebrow and then straight into his eyes and Eduardo is smiling so wide he can barely see, and Mark is so fucking excited.
"I had to write mine down," Eduardo says, digging a piece of paper out of his pocket, "I'm not as good as Mark." He laughs, and Mark kicks at his foot, grinning.
"Uh, alright." He coughs, and Mark can tell he's nervous. Mark knows when he's nervous. He's never been like that with anyone.
"Mark. I- when we met-" he coughs again, and Mark's eyes sting suddenly, burn at the edges. He inhales in shock, because he is not crying that is not possible.
"Okay. Shit, I'm sorry." Mark laughs, a little hysterically. Eduardo chews his lip and steels himself and looks up. "Mark. I never thought, in my life, that I would have this. I- I don't know why, maybe the fact that I work eighteen hours a day or- or sometimes I don't- I didn't think I deserved it, I don't know-"
Mark's breath is stuck in his chest. He is struggling to breathe.
"- but, just, every day, I think every day I'm with you, Mark, I'm learning that - you make me feel like I deserve it. Like I deserve to be as happy as you make me." He says this last sentence woodenly, awkwardly, but it doesn't matter because his eyes are glinting and his breath is coming in short rough bursts. Mark wants to hold him.
And Mark is giddy and sick with fear and excitement and happiness, because he has never felt responsible for another person like this, and God Eduardo's the one who's taking pity on Mark by having him, and it's not- it's such a mess of feelings, Mark would use to want to run away.
Eduardo is blinking and swiping a hand over his eyes and Mark does not want to run away anymore.
"I am so lucky. I am so- Mark, I know what you're thinking, and it's true, I am. I'm going to stop now, but. Mark. Love you."
He nods, and Mark nods, and then the non-denominational-ish but still slightly Jewish officiate says something and then someone else says something else and Mark just wants to kiss Eduardo already. People do that, at weddings, right?
Finally Eduardo's stepping towards him, unsure, and Mark has not been listening but Eduardo draws Mark's head towards his with one hand and Mark gets with it. Oh. Kissing.
People are cheering. Eduardo pulls back when Mark nips at his lip, gives him a stern look, but he can't keep down his grin, so Mark doesn't take it too seriously.
Mark looks around, shell-shocked, face hot, and Eduardo is clutching at Mark's arm and stamping on a glass wrapped in a napkin, laughing into his neck when it doesn't break at first and Mark sees Dustin is laughing through his tears. People are clapping and yelling "L'chaim!" and Chris is dry-eyed but grinning. His mother is sobbing. Erica is misting up. Even the fucking President looks a little watery. Mark is overwhelmed by this, by everything, but- but he is ready, too. For everything.
"C'mon," Eduardo says into his ear, grabbing his hand, and Mark is so ready.
---
Eduardo sleeps in the limo Mark's mom insisted on getting, on the way home. He curls up against Mark's shoulder and Mark puts an arm around him, tipsy and drowsy, and yawns.
"We're home," he says quietly when they get there, and Eduardo stirs, yawns.
"Home," he says muzzily, grinning before he even opens his eyes, and Mark pushes him up the stairs to the apartment.
"Want you to fuck me senseless," Eduardo says slowly, but he stumbles toward the bed and falls, grabs at a pillow and stuffs his face into it. Mark looks at him for a second, then takes off his uncomfortable fancy suit and shirt and nudges himself into the familiar heat of Eduardo's body.
Eduardo shifts, makes a little sound, and Mark takes a breath of his scent, the sweet sting of alcohol, the powdery smell of fabric softener, expensive cologne, and something deep, something musky, that's just Eduardo.
"I'm glad we got married," Eduardo murmurs incoherently, and Mark huffs out a soft laugh into his collarbone.
"I am also quite pleased," he says.
"Love," Eduardo starts, and drops off, mouth open. Mark moves closer and follows him into the bone-deep warmth of sleep, pressing one last open-mouthed, haphazard kiss to his collarbone.
---
Mark wakes up, and Eduardo is licking his thighs.
"Hmm," he says, still asleep but already hard, and Eduardo breathes against him and sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth.
"Oh, oh- fuck, yeah, Wardo," Mark says, waking up, blinking slowly, and he pushes himself up on his elbows and watches.
Eduardo sucks at the head and licks him and presses kisses down the shaft and it's so good, Mark keeps slipping back, nearly falling, elbows going weak.
"That's so good," he says randomly, encouragingly, still fuzzy-headed with sleep, and Eduardo nudges Mark's legs further apart and mouths at his balls. He rubs a finger provocatively, teasing, over Mark's asshole, and Mark digs his fingers into the bed, moaning.
"Morning," Eduardo says, voice sounding like he's smiling, and he dips his head even further and licks at- there, around and then inside, and Mark shudders, shocked and turned-on and skin prickling hot.
"Holy fucking- Christ, Wardo, just fuck me already."
Eduardo nods and grins and licks his own fingers sloppily and fingers Mark open until he's a mess, shaking, and Eduardo's not even thrusting his fingers anymore, he's just got two inside him, pushing again and again at Mark's prostrate, and Mark throws his head back, lets out a groan.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," he chants, and Eduardo twists to reach the condoms in the bedside drawer, other hand still deep inside Mark, and Mark is slowly and steadily twisting his hips, fucking himself, trying to get himself off.
"Be patient," Eduardo says, rolling on a condom, and he takes his fingers out of Mark and Mark makes a pained little noise and then a long low groan when Eduardo pushes carefully into him.
"Yeah?" Eduardo asks, and Mark nods, biting his lip. Eduardo thrusts out, then in again. Mark wraps his legs around Eduardo's waist, and says, "Faster."
Eduardo goes faster, and bends down to kiss him, and he tastes like spit and sweat and sleep. Mark's cock is trapped between their bodies, and he moans, twisting his hips up, trying to find friction, until Eduardo reaches a hand between them and takes him in his hand, wet with precome. Mark sucks in a breath and Eduardo is pulling him off in long strokes, and it only takes a minute or two until he's coming, biting his lip and then arching upward to kiss Eduardo through it.
"Jesus, Mark," Eduardo says, eyes wide, and Mark keeps working his body upward, trying to get Eduardo to come. Finally he takes Eduardo's chest in both hands and rubs his thumbs roughly over Eduardo's nipples, clenching around him at the same time, and Eduardo puts his head down and comes hard.
He collapses on top of Mark and pulls out gently and rolls onto his back, breathing hard, one hand on his wet belly.
Mark is grinning fiercely up at the ceiling, satisfied and exhausted and so fucking content he can't even find the words.
"I like being married," Eduardo says musingly, and Mark laughs wildly, rolls halfway over and puts his hand over Eduardo's on Eduardo's stomach.
"Shower?" he says, hoarsely, and Eduardo grins and turns his head and kisses him. He hops up, stretching, yawning, long lean torso twisting, and Mark exhales, watching him.
He thinks, I like being married too, Wardo. To you, specifically.
He doesn't say it, not this time. He has the rest of his life to say it.
---
“Next comes the baby in the baby carriage,” Dustin says teasingly, flicking Mark in the shoulder. Mark laughs from where he’s leaning against Eduardo on the massive, pillowy couch, a present from Mark's aunt.
“Oh God,” Eduardo says at the same time that Mark says, “Fuck no.”
“I’m definitely not prepared for that level of tokenism,” Eduardo says, laughing, and Mark nods against his chest.
“No, but seriously! Adopt a little Chinese baby! Oh my God, it’d be so cute. We could name it Little Flower.”
“Okay, first of all, we could name it? Second- Little Flower? That sounds really PC. I’m sure no one would think that was weird or culturally insensitive at all. Third, please try to imagine Mark with a child,” Eduardo says, and Dustin snorts.
“Feeding it Red Bull. Teaching it how to type.”
“He’d probably keep it in a little box under his desk,” Chris says, sniggering. Dustin gives him a fist-bump.
“Assholes,” Mark says mildly, and Eduardo laughs into his hair.
"So, Wardo, you got that job, right?"
"Yeah," Eduardo says modestly.
"They begged for him," Mark adds, and Eduardo laughs warmly.
"Think. Tank," Dustin says thoughtfully. "I like how that sounds. Tink Thank. Think Tank."
"Uh, thanks, Dustin."
"No prob, bro. Mark, what are you even going to do without your boo in the White House?"
"Probably just have to have phone sex, I guess," Mark says flatly, and Eduardo laughs.
"Mark," Chris says warningly, and Mark grins at him. Chris rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry, Chris. I'll keep it strictly to text," Eduardo says authoritatively, and Dustin gives him a fist-bump.
“Okay, Dustin, we should head out,” Chris says, standing up from the armchair.
“Wha, why, I’m tired,” Dustin mumbles tipsily. “This chair is like a cloud.”
“They’ve been married for three days, Dustin, they still need their privacy.”
“Ewwww,” Dustin groans. Mark goes red.
“You’re worse than Mark’s mom, Chris,” Eduardo says, tightening the arm around Mark’s shoulders. “I think we were both scarred for life when she visited the apartment and started going on about our sexual health.”
“Bleghhh,” Dustin says into the chair. “Leaving, okay, leaving.”
Chris waves as they leave, and Mark and Eduardo end up tangled together on the sofa. Mark’s pressed against Eduardo’s chest, snuffling, and Eduardo’s knee is poking into Mark’s thigh. Mark murmurs and shifts, and Eduardo pulls him closer, jostles them until it’s comfortable and kisses the top of his head.
"Bed?" Eduardo asks quietly, and Mark pushes his face harder into Eduardo's warm strong torso.
"No," he murmurs. "Too tired."
"Kay," Eduardo says, body relaxing. Mark can feel the vibrations of his voice.
He thinks about that first time, when Eduardo had done up Mark's shirt and drawn him in gently by the hips and said it's not going to be perfect, but it's going to be exciting. It's going to be a challenge and I'm excited.
Mark is so excited.
FIN
fandom: the social network
pairing: mark/eduardo
notes: okay, HERE'S the last part of my white house AU. title is from obama's victory speech, the full line is:
"And tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America - the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can."
warning: so fluffy teeth may rot i recommend putting a protective shield of toothpaste on now
So it's decided then.
He makes reservations at a restaurant. He stares at the ring for ten minutes. He puts on a suit. Then he stares at himself in the mirror, shakes his head, and puts on a hoodie. At least if he's rejected (oh god oh god please let him not say no) he won't have a fucking suit on.
He emails Deb-
i'm going to do it tonight.
And rolls his eyes when she sends back a terrifying message full of exclamation points and capital letters and tips.
At the end she's written- maybe I can only say this because i'm writing, not talking in person, but i'm so fucking proud of you mark. we all are. and I LOVE YOU. NO MATTER WHAT. so go get em!!!!!!!!!!
---
“Um, Eduardo,” Mark says that night, after they've ordered, and proceeds to go through a minute long coughing fit. Eduardo chews a mouthful of bread and grabs another roll from the basket as Mark drains his water glass.
“You okay?” he asks with his mouth full. Mark nods.
“Eduardo,” he says. “Uh, can we talk about something?”
“We may,” Eduardo says grandiosely, swallowing the bite. “And in the future, Mark, you don’t even need to ask before you start a conversation.”
Mark doesn’t even smile, just looks at him nervously. Eduardo cocks his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Nothing. Okay. So. Eduardo.”
“Mark.”
“Um. So, Eduardo. It’s been, what, like a year?”
“Since?”
“Since we started- whatever, duh, Eduardo. Dating.”
“Okay, yeah. Like thirteen months.”
“Yeah. Whatever. Okay. So, um, Eduardo. What I was wondering I guess was maybe if- you-” he exhales, frustrated, shakes his head. Eduardo bites his lip to keep from smiling. “Wardo, do you want to get married?”
Eduardo stops smiling. His mouth falls open.
In the silence, Mark bites his nail nervously and takes a huge sip of water, nearly chokes on it.
“Mark,” Eduardo murmurs, breathless. “Are you- you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“No,” Mark says sarcastically, defensively. “Yes- yeah, Eduardo, I’m serious.”
“Oh my God,” Eduardo whispers to himself. “Oh my fucking- Jesus, well, yes, obviously, Mark, you idiot. I thought you were having a fucking panic attack. Fucking yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Mark nods, and as Eduardo leans back in his chair, still breathing irregularly, Mark gets up and leans down and kisses him hot and wet until he nearly forgets they’re in public, they’re in the middle of a restaurant, and he pulls away and Eduardo’s smiling, crinkly-eyed, like he’s staring into the sun.
“Mark,” he keeps saying. “Oh my God.”
Mark leans back, satisfied, curiously content, and belatedly remembers the ring. Shit. That was supposed to come before, wasn't it? He digs it out of his pocket.
Eduardo’s still staring at the table, shell shocked, and Mark grabs for his hand, slides it on, carefully.
“Oh my God,” he says again, staring at it.
“I - my sister helped me. Do you-”
“It’s perfect,” Eduardo murmurs. “Jesus, Mark.”
“Who wants to tell Chris, you or me?” Mark asks, and they grin at each other.
---
When they get home, Mark emails his mom instead of calling, because he values the integrity of his eardrums.
hey mom- eduardo and i are getting married.
She just responds-
WHAT!? WHAT? WHAT? CALL ME IMMEDIATELY
and Deb says-
IS IT A YES TELL ME ITS A YES
he just types-
it is confirmed.
He turns his phone on silent and puts it on the kitchen counter and Eduardo tugs at his hoodie strings, grinning, and pulls him down onto the bed.
He doesn’t check his phone until nine the next morning. He has seventeen missed calls and eight emails and nine texts and Eduardo comes up behind him in the kitchen in his boxers, rubs a hand down Mark’s spine, nudges him aside to get at the coffeemaker.
He grabs the coffee beans from the freezer and Mark sees the glint of the ring. He sticks an entire piece of toast in his mouth to keep himself from smiling.
---
Chris sees the ring during the daily morning meeting and he chokes on his own spit. Eduardo goes pink and puts his hand under the table, and the President looks at Chris bemusedly.
"So sorry, sir," Chris says, coughing, shooting a wide-eyed look at Mark.
Mark grins.
"Oh my God oh my God OH MY GOD," Chris says in one breath, grabbing Eduardo's hand when they leave. "This- Mark- I-"
"You sound kinda like a thirteen year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert," Mark says thoughtfully, and Eduardo snorts.
"I'm not even going to address the fact that you know who Justin Bieber is because oh my God, Mark, you guys, just, congratulations!"
Eduardo smiles soft-eyed and turns his hand over to let Chris see.
"What happened? When? Where? If it was somewhere like the Lincoln Memorial I'm going to die. Oh God, Mark."
"Yesterday, and, thank God it was La Focca. Though I do think Lincoln would have approved."
"Unfounded rumors," Mark says, laughing, and Dustin comes over to see what the fuss is about.
When he sees the ring he starts screaming.
"Jesus, Dustin-"
"HOLY FUCKING SHIT I totally called it, I called it, I said you- Chris, you owe me fifty dollars. Mazel tov, you adorable little gaybies!"
"Gaybies?"
"Gay babies," Chris supplies automatically, and then goes red. "Oh God. And Dustin, how many times do I need to tell you, we never made a bet. There is no bet. It doesn't exist."
"Whatever, pay up, sucka. You can buy me dinner."
Chris rolls his eyes and walks off arguing with him, and Eduardo smiles at him and goes into his office.
---
Mark doesn't quite know what to do then.
He calls his mom, because she usually knows things like this.
"Mazel tov, sweetheart!" she yells into the phone, and he hears Annie in the background screaming "Congratulations Mark!"
"Thanks- yeah, Mom, I said- thanks, Mom, can you take it off speakerphone?"
"I'm so excited!" his mom squeals, and Mark nods.
"Yeah, yeah, I- I am too. Mom. I have a question."
"What is it, honey? Oh God, how did it happen, I need every detail, Deb told me a little bit but oh my God, Marky, I'm so happy-"
"Mom!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, what's up?"
"Just - Mom, what do I do now?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, like, I want to get married."
There's a silence, and then his mom says, voice thick, "Oh honey! Talk to your fiance! Oh, Mark, you are so clueless sometimes."
"Thanks," Mark says dryly.
"I'm sorry. Just- just talk to Eduardo! And set a date! And then let me help plan it, remember when I did Annie's, oh my God, it was so gorgeous- the theme was pastels, and it worked so well in the spring-"
"Mom. I don't care about that stuff."
"But you're having a wedding, Mark. Don't you dare just go down to a courthouse or something. You are not taking this wedding away from me."
"Mom, you sound insane."
"Mark, hon, just set a date and then tell me. Oh God, the President's going to be there, isn't he? The President at my baby's wedding, I can't believe it."
"He probably won't come."
"You're inviting him, though. You are."
"Mom..."
"Mark, I don't want to argue about this. But I will. And I will win. Go talk to Eduardo. I love you. Call me soon."
"Okay," Mark says dubiously, and hangs up. He's still confused.
---
He emails Eduardo, because he might be engaged (holy fuck he's engaged) to the guy, but he still feels weird about this.
hey eduardo-
we should set a date for the wedding. and plan it and stuff.
"The wedding", like it's someone else. Mark feels stupid about sending it but he does anyway, and knows Eduardo gets it because he hears him laugh from his office. Dustin peeks over the cubicle quizzically, and Mark waves him away and goes to his office.
"Hi," he says cautiously, and Eduardo looks up, eyes sparkling, grinning.
"We should like plan it and stuff?" he repeats, and cracks up. Mark rolls his eyes and leans against his desk and Eduardo puts his head down on the desk and laughs hysterically.
"It's not that funny," Mark says sullenly, and Eduardo nods, wiping tears away.
"I'm sorry, babe," he says, still biting his lip to keep from laughing. "It was just so- an email. Oh God, Mark, I love you."
Mark shuffles his feet, says nothing, and Eduardo composes himself.
"Let's talk about it. Okay? When- when do you want to get married?"
"As soon as possible," Mark says reflexively, and goes hot. Eduardo's rolling his eyes, smiling, cheeks pink from laughter.
"You better not be envisioning some kind of courthouse elopement," Eduardo says very seriously, shaking his head. "I want my dress and a train, damnit."
"First of all, that's weird, and second of all, you sound like my mom."
"I'm going to choose to be honored by that," Eduardo says. "So, 'the wedding'. Not our wedding, oh no. The wedding. We're wedding planners now, apparently."
"Shut up," Mark grumbles despairingly, and Eduardo positively cackles.
---
In the end, they settle on April.
"A spring wedding!" his mom screams over the phone. She sounds like a five year old at FAO Schwarz. Mark is somewhat terrified.
Do NOT let mom bring out the pastels, that's too gay even for you, his sister sends him.
"I like April," Eduardo says thoughtfully, and that's really all Mark cares about.
---
In January, Eduardo goes to Miami for a day. He says he wants to see his mother, check on his sister's baby, but of course, he ends up in his father's study, standing before him like he always has been. He swallows nervously.
"I said, we're getting married, Pai."
His father's eyes are very sharp. Eduardo is a little nervous, but fuck if his father's going to scare him anymore.
"Where?"
"In the District of Columbia, Father. Where we live."
His father smiles for a second, his shit-eating campaign grin, and Eduardo briefly thinks he's going to go against twenty-seven years of evidence and support him for once.
And then he says, "That's ridiculous. That is not happening."
Eduardo's face goes hot. He shouldn't have expected anything. He remembers Mark saying why are you even going down there and Eduardo's still not sure.
"I love Mark and we're getting married and that- that is not up for discussion," Eduardo says, trying to sound firm. His father is staring at him, naked plain disgust in his face. This is the first time Eduardo has been in the same room with his father without reporters in four years.
"Why are you doing this to me, Eduardo?" he asks, and Eduardo cannot fucking believe this.
"I'm not doing anything to you!" he says, and his father interrupts, talking over him-
"I get it, Eduardo. You have my attention now, you spoilt little child. You've always wanted it, so here it is."
"You don't know anything about me," Eduardo chokes out. "You- this has nothing to do with you."
His father laughs. "Don't delude yourself. You're so goddamn selfish, you always have been. You're not capable of loving anyone."
Eduardo's face is burning and his chest is tight and he feels eight years old again, when his father would twist the skin on his inner wrists when he brought his report card home.
"You- you're- you don't know what you're talking about," he says, and swipes a hand across his eyes. "I'm getting married. I-" he takes a deep breath, steadies himself. He is not eight years old. He is not fifteen, hearing his father tell a reporter that he'd never let his son grow up to live an "immoral lifestyle". He is not a seventeen year old getting kicked out for blowing the housekeeper's son. He is not even nineteen, home on break from that "liberal terrorist college" and watching his father burn his textbooks. He is not. A. Child.
"I'm going to have a fucking wedding with my boyfriend, and after we're going to go home, our home, and he's going to fuck me senseless," he spits out, somewhat childishly really but fuck him fuck everything, and he can see his father's lip curl. He knows that his father wants to hit him, has always wanted to hit him.
"You pathetic slut," his father says.
"Oh yeah, I'm such a slut because I'm going to have sex with my husband," Eduardo says hotly, and this isn't even the point of the discussion and he sounds hysterical, immature, but he wants to hurt his father, rip at him, be better than him.
"It's not a marriage in the eyes of God, it's a sick perversion, so yes, you're a-"
"And of course you're such a saint, father. You fucking hypocrite."
His father's hand twitches at his side, raises in a knee-jerk motion. Eduardo laughs.
"I would love for you to hit me," he whispers, leaning closer. "Give me a couple bruises. See what the good people of Florida would think about adultery and child abuse, right-"
"Shut your fucking perverted mouth and get out of my house."
"Gladly!"
His father slams the door behind him, and Eduardo walks steadily until he's down the driveway and around the corner and sees a couple reporters. How the fuck had they found out? He waves, getting into his cab, and only when they've pulled away and he's said "Miami International, please" does he let himself exhale shakily, press the heels of his hands into his eyes.
He has three new texts from Mark.
chris just fell walking up to the press stand
dustin is crying with laughter
please, please call me soon. text me at least so i know you're alive
Eduardo can't talk to him, not now.
----
On the flight a girl hits on him until she sees his engagement ring, and then coos over him and asks about it.
"You're from Miami, then?"
Eduardo nods politely. "Originally. I work in D.C., now."
"You're not FBI, are you? Or could you not even tell me if you were? How mysterious."
He laughs. "I'm an economic advisor. To- to the President." And that still feels weird to say.
Her eyes go wide. "That's amazing. You meet her in the White House?"
"Hmm?"
She gestures at the ring.
"Oh, um. Yeah." He hesitates, nodding down at the thick elegant gold band, and says, "Him, actually. My fiance."
He hasn't said that out loud before, and his mouth quirks up into a smile. The woman's aww-ing, and Eduardo notices she's reading the Times and she has a Wesleyan sticker on her laptop. He feels somewhat terrible for categorizing like that, but whatever, thank fuck she's presumably liberal.
"It's not the press secretary, is it? He is adorable. That sounds creepy, probably. But he is really the highlight of C-SPAN."
Eduardo laughs. "You watch C-SPAN for Chris. God, he is going to love that. But no- no, my fiance works in Internet communications. He- you might know him because he was on Fox, last year?"
It's dawning on her, and she actually snorts with laughter. "Oh my God, my friends and I used to quote that clip all the time. I love that guy! If that turns you on, go for it," she parrots.
Eduardo ducks his head, grinning. "Yeah, well. Most people would say he's a little bit of an asshole."
"An asshole with good taste," she says, winking and then taking Eduardo's hand in hers and looking more closely at the ring. "This is amazing."
"Thank you," Eduardo says softly. "So, you go to Wesleyan? I went to Brown, myself. I can totally out-liberal you."
---
Eduardo texts Mark when he's back, waves at him the next day, but goes straight into his office. Mark is killing himself over a new release and he barely looks up. It's not until five hours later, in mid-afternoon, that Mark knocks on Eduardo's office door.
"Yeah," Eduardo calls, and Mark comes in, leans against the desk facing Eduardo, knocks his knee against Eduardo's.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
"How was it?"
"It was fine."
"Fine, like, the Senator's on board with repealing DOMA and is officiating our wedding fine, or fine like, you're trying to be all heroic about it fine."
"The latter," Eduardo admits. "But really, Mark, it'll be fine."
"Do you think he'll come?"
"No," Eduardo says, too emphatically, and Mark looks at him knowingly like it had been a litmus test. Eduardo looks down.
"What did he say," Mark asks quietly, nudging Eduardo with his leg again.
"Mark-"
"You might as well tell me."
"And why is that?"
Mark shrugs. "I don't know. So I know what to tell the hired assassin."
Eduardo laughs weakly. "Dumbass."
"He called you a dumbass? The scoundrel!"
Eduardo laughs again, leans his head against Mark's arm for a second.
"He said I was a selfish child and a pervert and a slut," Eduardo says, voice forced calm and jovial like it's a joke, like they'll both suddenly burst out laughing. Mark is silent.
"I- that-" he says finally, slowly, and Eduardo cuts in before he can work himself into a rage and kill the Internet or something. Mark could probably hack everything in Florida in ten minutes. Eduardo does not doubt him.
"Though really I was being provocative. Said after the wedding you were going to fuck me senseless."
Mark doesn't crack a smile, and Eduardo puts a hand on his knee. "It's okay, Mark, seriously. I mean, I'm not fully okay but I'm going to be."
Mark nods to himself. "Wait, does this mean that we're actually going to have to have sex at some point?" he asks quietly, smiling slightly. Eduardo rolls his eyes and squeezes his knee.
"Idiot," he mutters, and Mark goes on-
"I don't know if I'm okay with that. I thought we were getting married because of all the benefits."
"You're right," Eduardo says mock-thoughtfully. "Never mind. I'l have to postpone this engagement until Congress gets us full benefits. If I don't get a tax credit out of this, what was it all for?"
Mark laughs, puts a hand over Eduardo's on his leg.
"My family loves you," he says stiltedly. "More than me, I think."
Eduardo nods, and squeezes Mark's hand.
---
The reporter looks positively hungry. Mark is sort of scared. He doesn't have a great history with reporters.
"So," she says, clicking on her tape recorder and uncapping her pen. "You two are the most widely known couple in the White House after the President and the First Lady. That must be exciting."
Mark snorts. Eduardo nudges his knee against his, briefly, and nods politely.
"How did you two meet?"
Mark has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He has no fucking idea why Chris made them do this. He assured them the reporter was friendly, liberal, and had promised to not write any too-revealing bullshit, but he still resented actually having to talk.
"I was brought in by the administration as a specialist on the economy, and Mark actually showed me around on the first day."
"Can you elaborate on what you do, exactly, Mr. Zuckerberg? So my readers have a clear idea."
"Of course," Mark says, forced polite by Eduardo's sneaky elbow. "I'm the president's online advisor, which means I coordinate the administration's Internet message and oversee the different avenues that entails, like Twitter or Facebook."
"Mark's actually a co-founder of Facebook," Eduardo adds, and the woman's eyes light up.
"Really?"
"Not really. Yes, I did some of the initial work on the site, but I left the company very early on."
"We all know Billy Olsen was just named Person of the Year, you must be acquainted with him, then?"
"He was my roommate, at Harvard."
"Wow," she says. "Did you hear they're making a movie, of his life?"
"No!" Eduardo says, grinning. "Mark, you're going to be in a movie."
"Maybe they'll get, uh, Brad Pitt to play you," the woman says awkwardly, laughing at her own little joke, and Eduardo snorts quietly. Mark rolls his eyes again.
"Wouldn't be very realistic," Eduardo says musingly, and he and the woman laugh. Mark rolls his eyes.
"Hilarious," Mark says dryly, and Eduardo pats his knee placatingly.
"Anyway- what were your feelings upon being outed by the Journal? Panic? Relief? Was there a strong media backlash?"
Eduardo chews his lip.
"I- personally, I was a little dismayed by the manner in which it was made public. It all seemed very Hollywood-esque and seedy and just- unnecessarily personal, if you know what I mean. It has no reflection on my work and what we've accomplished in the White House. At the same time, though-" he glances at Mark, eyes soft, and they make eye contact for a second. Mark coughs and looks down.
"- I'm happy, about it. Now."
The woman is nodding.
"So, the engagement. How did it come about? What made you think, now's the time to get married?" She directs the question at Eduardo, and he laughs.
"You're going to need to ask Mark, since, uh, he proposed."
Mark goes red.
"Oh, really! Mr. Zuckerberg, I apologize."
"Okay, well, I just- um, you know, I was already planning on being with Eduardo, for- uh, for, you know, the rest of my life, and um, as a resident of Washington D.C., we're so privileged in that we have the right to get married, so I just thought- you know, let's uh, let's make it official."
"Practical," the woman says, smiling, nodding to herself.
"Mark is nothing if not practical," Eduardo says fondly.
"And you were engaged... three months ago?"
"Uh, December. So yes. Three months."
"Where'd it happen?" She's leaning forward, like a teenage girl at a sleepover.
"We were out to dinner, in Georgetown. At- La Focca, wasn't it, Mark?"
Mark nods, looking sideways at Eduardo, all put together in his Dolce suit and slicked-back hair, talking about their relationship with a reporter, and he feels a curious little bubble of pride rise in him. Eduardo is so brave. He's the bravest person Mark's ever met.
"And everyone knows your father, of course, Eduardo. Senator Saverin is-" and Mark tunes back in, blinking, clutching Eduardo's knee protectively.
Eduardo's face is impassive, unreadable, but he lets Mark keep his hand there.
"-the Senator has established himself as one of the nation's leading opponents of same sex marriage. How do you reconcile that around the dinner table, so to speak?"
"Um," Eduardo starts, and Mark cuts in, "That has nothing to do with our-"
"Mark. It's fine. My- the Senator and I don't see eye to eye on many issues. Of course, he is still my family, and we maintain a cordial professional relationship."
The woman is looking at them with pity, and Mark's face burns. She should never get to- Eduardo doesn't need her pity.
"So, he'll be coming to the wedding?" she asks, a little hesitantly.
"That's none of your business-" Mark says hotly, and Eduardo shuts him up with a look and a gentle Mark.
"Unfortunately, my father will not able to attend due to scheduling conflicts," he says, voice flat.
"Hmm," the woman says, writing something down. Eduardo's back is straight and stiff, his knee jiggling slightly. Mark puts a hand on it to hold it down, for a second. Eduardo looks at him and smiles automatically, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
---
"She had no right to ask you about that," Mark says furiously, pacing around Eduardo's office. Eduardo is typing idly with one hand and eating an apple.
"Mark, it's not a big deal," he says with his mouth full.
"Really, though. Nosy bitch."
"Mark! Don't be rude. She was doing her job."
Mark shakes his head, pulling out his Blackberry and checking his emails.
"Sorry," he mutters. Eduardo tosses the apple core in the trash.
"It's fine. Just, relax. She was nice, it'll be fine."
Mark nods grudgingly, and Eduardo stands up and pulls him into an embrace.
"One month," he says, and Mark shivers. He nods again.
"I have to finish this mock-up by tomorrow. You want to help me edit tonight?"
"Sure," Mark says, rubbing a hand up Eduardo's back, then pulling away. Eduardo sits back down and digs in his desk for a pen.
"I don't have any work until later," Mark adds. "You want me to go grab sandwiches?"
"Mm, yeah, that'd be great. Turkey and swiss, please."
"I know," Mark says automatically, and Eduardo cocks his head in surprise, grins at him. Mark goes hot.
"I'll be back," he says, opening the door, and ignores Eduardo's awful attempt at a Terminator impression, closing it behind him.
----
The days trickle by quickly and it's the day of his wedding before he can take a breath. His wedding. Jesus Christ.
He's sitting in a classroom of a huge temple in suburban D.C., and Chris is fussing over him. Chris is with him and Dustin is with Eduardo, which hardly seems fair.
"You nervous?" Chris asks, and Mark shrugs.
"I'm nervous," Chris says queasily. "I'm scared Dustin's as-yet-undiagnosed Tourette's will surface during the middle of the ceremony, or Sean will show up and say something-"
"Chris, stop," Mark says, taking the lint roller out of Chris' hands.
Chris looks at him, and a smile breaks out on his face.
"Proud of you," he says, and folds him in a hug.
"Thanks," Mark mutters, pulling away, biting his lip, and he's saved from having to say something deep and bromantic by his mom and sisters rushing in.
"Sweetheart, it's almost time to go, oh God, I'm so nervous-"
"Why is everyone so nervous? It's a wedding, not rocket science," Mark says exasperatedly, and Deb giggles into her hand.
"Okay. Okay. Good luck, my love. Good luck, Chris."
"Thanks, Linda. Congratulations. Your most socially awkward one somehow bloomed."
Deb giggles again and holds out her hand for a high-five. Chris slaps it, then Mark's shoulder, and leaves. His mom and sisters follow, and Deb squeezes his hand.
"You got this," she says like a football coach, and Mark nods. He is not nervous, and he doesn't understand why other people are.
---
Ten minutes later he's outside the synagogue and he thinks he might throw up. So maybe he gets why people thought he'd be nervous. His leg keeps jittering, and he keeps swallowing convulsively.
He somehow makes it down the aisle and then he is staring at Eduardo and Eduardo is looking back and Mark takes a deep breath. He can do this.
---
"Eduardo, I-" he looks at Deb, at his mom in the first row, at Dustin and Chris behind Eduardo, standing side by side, at the fucking President of the United States, sitting there at his, Mark Zuckerberg's fucking wedding.
"Wardo, I - when I was ten my parents got divorced and I didn't think- I didn't think I'd ever want to get married."
He can't look at his mom or his dad or his dad's girlfriend. Eduardo's staring at him, eyes soft.
"I didn't- I thought it was a waste of time. But- Eduardo, when I met you-" he has to stop and take a shaky breath. "I just. I knew I wanted to spend a lot of time with you. Preferably the rest of my life."
Eduardo laughs silently, eyes wide and wet and open.
"And I didn't think we needed to get married. I didn't think I needed a ring, or a certificate, to show how- how much in love with you I was. But- we've been, I've seen so many people who want this, to get married. It means everything, to some people. And I think, I think, I just- hearing these stories, of these people who want to get married but can't, it just- we're so lucky to be here in DC, and I am so lucky to have you."
He sneaks a look away. His mom is crying quietly. Annie's holding her hand, grinning so hard it looks like her face'll freeze that way. Deb gives him a quick thumbs-up, and from behind Eduardo's shoulder, so does Chris.
"And I want you to be part of my family. Officially. Because, Wardo." He clears his throat. "Eduardo, I love you so much."
Eduardo is biting his lip, cheeks flushed.
"And- and that's it," Mark finishes awkwardly, and everyone laughs, and Eduardo laughs full-throated and wet, and it sounds like a sob, but happy. Mark looks at his nose, then his lips, his ear and his eyebrow and then straight into his eyes and Eduardo is smiling so wide he can barely see, and Mark is so fucking excited.
"I had to write mine down," Eduardo says, digging a piece of paper out of his pocket, "I'm not as good as Mark." He laughs, and Mark kicks at his foot, grinning.
"Uh, alright." He coughs, and Mark can tell he's nervous. Mark knows when he's nervous. He's never been like that with anyone.
"Mark. I- when we met-" he coughs again, and Mark's eyes sting suddenly, burn at the edges. He inhales in shock, because he is not crying that is not possible.
"Okay. Shit, I'm sorry." Mark laughs, a little hysterically. Eduardo chews his lip and steels himself and looks up. "Mark. I never thought, in my life, that I would have this. I- I don't know why, maybe the fact that I work eighteen hours a day or- or sometimes I don't- I didn't think I deserved it, I don't know-"
Mark's breath is stuck in his chest. He is struggling to breathe.
"- but, just, every day, I think every day I'm with you, Mark, I'm learning that - you make me feel like I deserve it. Like I deserve to be as happy as you make me." He says this last sentence woodenly, awkwardly, but it doesn't matter because his eyes are glinting and his breath is coming in short rough bursts. Mark wants to hold him.
And Mark is giddy and sick with fear and excitement and happiness, because he has never felt responsible for another person like this, and God Eduardo's the one who's taking pity on Mark by having him, and it's not- it's such a mess of feelings, Mark would use to want to run away.
Eduardo is blinking and swiping a hand over his eyes and Mark does not want to run away anymore.
"I am so lucky. I am so- Mark, I know what you're thinking, and it's true, I am. I'm going to stop now, but. Mark. Love you."
He nods, and Mark nods, and then the non-denominational-ish but still slightly Jewish officiate says something and then someone else says something else and Mark just wants to kiss Eduardo already. People do that, at weddings, right?
Finally Eduardo's stepping towards him, unsure, and Mark has not been listening but Eduardo draws Mark's head towards his with one hand and Mark gets with it. Oh. Kissing.
People are cheering. Eduardo pulls back when Mark nips at his lip, gives him a stern look, but he can't keep down his grin, so Mark doesn't take it too seriously.
Mark looks around, shell-shocked, face hot, and Eduardo is clutching at Mark's arm and stamping on a glass wrapped in a napkin, laughing into his neck when it doesn't break at first and Mark sees Dustin is laughing through his tears. People are clapping and yelling "L'chaim!" and Chris is dry-eyed but grinning. His mother is sobbing. Erica is misting up. Even the fucking President looks a little watery. Mark is overwhelmed by this, by everything, but- but he is ready, too. For everything.
"C'mon," Eduardo says into his ear, grabbing his hand, and Mark is so ready.
---
Eduardo sleeps in the limo Mark's mom insisted on getting, on the way home. He curls up against Mark's shoulder and Mark puts an arm around him, tipsy and drowsy, and yawns.
"We're home," he says quietly when they get there, and Eduardo stirs, yawns.
"Home," he says muzzily, grinning before he even opens his eyes, and Mark pushes him up the stairs to the apartment.
"Want you to fuck me senseless," Eduardo says slowly, but he stumbles toward the bed and falls, grabs at a pillow and stuffs his face into it. Mark looks at him for a second, then takes off his uncomfortable fancy suit and shirt and nudges himself into the familiar heat of Eduardo's body.
Eduardo shifts, makes a little sound, and Mark takes a breath of his scent, the sweet sting of alcohol, the powdery smell of fabric softener, expensive cologne, and something deep, something musky, that's just Eduardo.
"I'm glad we got married," Eduardo murmurs incoherently, and Mark huffs out a soft laugh into his collarbone.
"I am also quite pleased," he says.
"Love," Eduardo starts, and drops off, mouth open. Mark moves closer and follows him into the bone-deep warmth of sleep, pressing one last open-mouthed, haphazard kiss to his collarbone.
---
Mark wakes up, and Eduardo is licking his thighs.
"Hmm," he says, still asleep but already hard, and Eduardo breathes against him and sucks the tip of his cock into his mouth.
"Oh, oh- fuck, yeah, Wardo," Mark says, waking up, blinking slowly, and he pushes himself up on his elbows and watches.
Eduardo sucks at the head and licks him and presses kisses down the shaft and it's so good, Mark keeps slipping back, nearly falling, elbows going weak.
"That's so good," he says randomly, encouragingly, still fuzzy-headed with sleep, and Eduardo nudges Mark's legs further apart and mouths at his balls. He rubs a finger provocatively, teasing, over Mark's asshole, and Mark digs his fingers into the bed, moaning.
"Morning," Eduardo says, voice sounding like he's smiling, and he dips his head even further and licks at- there, around and then inside, and Mark shudders, shocked and turned-on and skin prickling hot.
"Holy fucking- Christ, Wardo, just fuck me already."
Eduardo nods and grins and licks his own fingers sloppily and fingers Mark open until he's a mess, shaking, and Eduardo's not even thrusting his fingers anymore, he's just got two inside him, pushing again and again at Mark's prostrate, and Mark throws his head back, lets out a groan.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," he chants, and Eduardo twists to reach the condoms in the bedside drawer, other hand still deep inside Mark, and Mark is slowly and steadily twisting his hips, fucking himself, trying to get himself off.
"Be patient," Eduardo says, rolling on a condom, and he takes his fingers out of Mark and Mark makes a pained little noise and then a long low groan when Eduardo pushes carefully into him.
"Yeah?" Eduardo asks, and Mark nods, biting his lip. Eduardo thrusts out, then in again. Mark wraps his legs around Eduardo's waist, and says, "Faster."
Eduardo goes faster, and bends down to kiss him, and he tastes like spit and sweat and sleep. Mark's cock is trapped between their bodies, and he moans, twisting his hips up, trying to find friction, until Eduardo reaches a hand between them and takes him in his hand, wet with precome. Mark sucks in a breath and Eduardo is pulling him off in long strokes, and it only takes a minute or two until he's coming, biting his lip and then arching upward to kiss Eduardo through it.
"Jesus, Mark," Eduardo says, eyes wide, and Mark keeps working his body upward, trying to get Eduardo to come. Finally he takes Eduardo's chest in both hands and rubs his thumbs roughly over Eduardo's nipples, clenching around him at the same time, and Eduardo puts his head down and comes hard.
He collapses on top of Mark and pulls out gently and rolls onto his back, breathing hard, one hand on his wet belly.
Mark is grinning fiercely up at the ceiling, satisfied and exhausted and so fucking content he can't even find the words.
"I like being married," Eduardo says musingly, and Mark laughs wildly, rolls halfway over and puts his hand over Eduardo's on Eduardo's stomach.
"Shower?" he says, hoarsely, and Eduardo grins and turns his head and kisses him. He hops up, stretching, yawning, long lean torso twisting, and Mark exhales, watching him.
He thinks, I like being married too, Wardo. To you, specifically.
He doesn't say it, not this time. He has the rest of his life to say it.
---
“Next comes the baby in the baby carriage,” Dustin says teasingly, flicking Mark in the shoulder. Mark laughs from where he’s leaning against Eduardo on the massive, pillowy couch, a present from Mark's aunt.
“Oh God,” Eduardo says at the same time that Mark says, “Fuck no.”
“I’m definitely not prepared for that level of tokenism,” Eduardo says, laughing, and Mark nods against his chest.
“No, but seriously! Adopt a little Chinese baby! Oh my God, it’d be so cute. We could name it Little Flower.”
“Okay, first of all, we could name it? Second- Little Flower? That sounds really PC. I’m sure no one would think that was weird or culturally insensitive at all. Third, please try to imagine Mark with a child,” Eduardo says, and Dustin snorts.
“Feeding it Red Bull. Teaching it how to type.”
“He’d probably keep it in a little box under his desk,” Chris says, sniggering. Dustin gives him a fist-bump.
“Assholes,” Mark says mildly, and Eduardo laughs into his hair.
"So, Wardo, you got that job, right?"
"Yeah," Eduardo says modestly.
"They begged for him," Mark adds, and Eduardo laughs warmly.
"Think. Tank," Dustin says thoughtfully. "I like how that sounds. Tink Thank. Think Tank."
"Uh, thanks, Dustin."
"No prob, bro. Mark, what are you even going to do without your boo in the White House?"
"Probably just have to have phone sex, I guess," Mark says flatly, and Eduardo laughs.
"Mark," Chris says warningly, and Mark grins at him. Chris rolls his eyes.
"Don't worry, Chris. I'll keep it strictly to text," Eduardo says authoritatively, and Dustin gives him a fist-bump.
“Okay, Dustin, we should head out,” Chris says, standing up from the armchair.
“Wha, why, I’m tired,” Dustin mumbles tipsily. “This chair is like a cloud.”
“They’ve been married for three days, Dustin, they still need their privacy.”
“Ewwww,” Dustin groans. Mark goes red.
“You’re worse than Mark’s mom, Chris,” Eduardo says, tightening the arm around Mark’s shoulders. “I think we were both scarred for life when she visited the apartment and started going on about our sexual health.”
“Bleghhh,” Dustin says into the chair. “Leaving, okay, leaving.”
Chris waves as they leave, and Mark and Eduardo end up tangled together on the sofa. Mark’s pressed against Eduardo’s chest, snuffling, and Eduardo’s knee is poking into Mark’s thigh. Mark murmurs and shifts, and Eduardo pulls him closer, jostles them until it’s comfortable and kisses the top of his head.
"Bed?" Eduardo asks quietly, and Mark pushes his face harder into Eduardo's warm strong torso.
"No," he murmurs. "Too tired."
"Kay," Eduardo says, body relaxing. Mark can feel the vibrations of his voice.
He thinks about that first time, when Eduardo had done up Mark's shirt and drawn him in gently by the hips and said it's not going to be perfect, but it's going to be exciting. It's going to be a challenge and I'm excited.
Mark is so excited.
FIN