Fic: Some Famous Vision (Brotherhood II, Harlan/Marcus, PG)
Title: Some Famous Vision
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: PG
Summary: There's still something missing from his life.
A/N: This is short, but it was necessary and I think you'll see why when you read it. Part twenty-seven of the Aftermath series. I counted this morning. Twenty-seven parts. Good lord.
Harlan's always hated airports. He hates the waiting around, hates having to wear a suit all day and he really hates being stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but scan the faces around him, looking for someone he hasn't seen in six years and probably never will again.
He knows that, but it doesn't stop him from looking. Doesn't stop him from glancing up every few seconds from the copy of Entrepreneur he picked up at the airport newsstand to watch a fresh crop of strangers pour out of the gate across from him, wondering if maybe this is the time…
But it never is, and as the last person files out of the gate and heads off into Cincinnati or St. Louis or wherever the hell he is this time Harlan shakes his head at himself and turns back to his magazine. He flips the page without really looking at it, because it's hard to focus on scouting for promising new businesses to buy out when he's busy wondering for the thousandth time what the hell happened all those years ago.
One minute everything was perfect - okay, not perfect, exactly, but close enough - there were plans in place and their lives stretched out before them, and the next day Marcus was just…gone. And he knows he should have forgotten it by now, but it's hard to let go when he still doesn't know what happened.
It's not like there hasn't been anybody since Marcus. There have been plenty of somebodies, but none of them have meant anything more than a warm bed for a few nights. And he's been okay with that, mostly, because he's spent the past six years working hard to prove to his father that he can handle the family business, and he hasn't had time for messy emotional stuff.
That's what he's been telling himself for the past six years, anyway, but when he catches himself scanning the crowd in a strange airport for dark hair and angular shoulders he knows it's a lie. Because he misses Marcus, but more than anything he just wants an explanation. He wants to hear the words from Marcus himself, and he knows he's not getting over it until he does.
Which means he might not ever get over it, because he's looked everywhere and followed every lead, even called Marcus' parents a few times over the years and he still hasn't got a clue where Marcus went when he left Chandler. When he kissed Harlan goodbye and promised to deal with whatever he needed to deal with as fast as possible, promised to tell Harlan the whole truth over the weekend, preferably once they were both sated and lying naked in Harlan's bed.
Only it didn't happen that way, and there's no use torturing himself about it while he's stuck in the middle of nowhere. He sighs and turns back to his magazine, flipping past an article about one of those game show contestants who runs some business that's only getting attention because the guy was on TV for a couple weeks.
Those kinds of businesses are rarely worth his time, and anyway he's not really in the mood to find the next big prospect. He's tired of flying from meeting to meeting, feeding the same line to promising small business owners over and over. He's tired of never knowing exactly where he is, and mostly he's tired of being surrounded by strangers all the time. And he likes his job, but he's been going pretty much non-stop for the past two years and it's starting to get a little old.
He can't even remember who he's meeting tomorrow, and the thought of sweet-talking another small-time entrepreneur who thinks way too much of himself is…well, it's kind of depressing. It's not that he's not good at it - he is - it's just that there's no challenge involved in making the deal. He's given the same speech so many times now that he can say it in his sleep, and the truth is it's getting kind of boring.
On the next page there's an article about some guy in Wisconsin who's invented an environmentally friendly fertilizer, and Harlan folds back the corner of the page before he flips to the next one. When he does his heart skips a beat, and he closes his eyes and then opens them again to make sure he's not seeing things. And he must be really tired if he's hallucinating entire articles, but no matter how many times he blinks the image of Marcus grinning up at him refuses to go away.
His hair's shorter and he's filled out a little, but Harlan would recognize that smile anywhere. He's seen it enough, usually when they were tangled together and Marcus was too far gone to be self-conscious. In the picture he's sitting backwards in a chair, arms crossed over the back and green t-shirt showing off his biceps and this can't be real. Six years - six long years of searching the internet and calling colleges and Marcus' relatives, and he has the nerve to show up out of nowhere. In an article about some hot new computer game, of all things, and when Harlan scans the article and sees where Marcus' business is based he's not sure whether to laugh or hit something.
Before he even thinks about it he's reaching for his cell phone, dialing his own office and tapping his foot impatiently while he waits for his assistant to pick up. "It's me. Listen, I need you to cancel my meeting tomorrow. And find out everything you can about…" He pauses and glances back at the article, frowning at the name of Marcus' company, "…Demonifuge Entertainment in San Jose."
"What's going on?"
"Just do it," Harlan answers, and he knows when he gets back he's going to get a lecture about being rude, but right now he doesn't care. "Look, I'll explain when I get back."
"So you're coming back today? What am I supposed to tell Walker's people?"
"Who?"
"The guy you were on your way to meet?" Candace says, and he can hear her rolling her eyes at him.
"I don't care what you tell him," Harlan answers. "Tell him I got hit by a bus. Offer to fly him out to California. Whatever."
There's a long pause, and he knows she's thinking about arguing with him, but then she sighs and thinks better of it. "Fine. But you owe me."
This time Harlan rolls his eyes. "Just find out what you can about that company, okay? The guy who runs it invented some hot computer game. See if you can get ahold of the sales figures. And have a copy of the game sent over. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hangs up before she can argue with him and glances at his watch, then he glances at the picture of Marcus still staring up at him. "Unbelievable," he mutters under his breath, closing the magazine and sliding it carefully into his briefcase before he stands up and goes in search of the next flight back to San Francisco.
Fandom: Brotherhood II
Pairing: Harlan/Marcus
Rating: PG
Summary: There's still something missing from his life.
A/N: This is short, but it was necessary and I think you'll see why when you read it. Part twenty-seven of the Aftermath series. I counted this morning. Twenty-seven parts. Good lord.
Harlan's always hated airports. He hates the waiting around, hates having to wear a suit all day and he really hates being stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but scan the faces around him, looking for someone he hasn't seen in six years and probably never will again.
He knows that, but it doesn't stop him from looking. Doesn't stop him from glancing up every few seconds from the copy of Entrepreneur he picked up at the airport newsstand to watch a fresh crop of strangers pour out of the gate across from him, wondering if maybe this is the time…
But it never is, and as the last person files out of the gate and heads off into Cincinnati or St. Louis or wherever the hell he is this time Harlan shakes his head at himself and turns back to his magazine. He flips the page without really looking at it, because it's hard to focus on scouting for promising new businesses to buy out when he's busy wondering for the thousandth time what the hell happened all those years ago.
One minute everything was perfect - okay, not perfect, exactly, but close enough - there were plans in place and their lives stretched out before them, and the next day Marcus was just…gone. And he knows he should have forgotten it by now, but it's hard to let go when he still doesn't know what happened.
It's not like there hasn't been anybody since Marcus. There have been plenty of somebodies, but none of them have meant anything more than a warm bed for a few nights. And he's been okay with that, mostly, because he's spent the past six years working hard to prove to his father that he can handle the family business, and he hasn't had time for messy emotional stuff.
That's what he's been telling himself for the past six years, anyway, but when he catches himself scanning the crowd in a strange airport for dark hair and angular shoulders he knows it's a lie. Because he misses Marcus, but more than anything he just wants an explanation. He wants to hear the words from Marcus himself, and he knows he's not getting over it until he does.
Which means he might not ever get over it, because he's looked everywhere and followed every lead, even called Marcus' parents a few times over the years and he still hasn't got a clue where Marcus went when he left Chandler. When he kissed Harlan goodbye and promised to deal with whatever he needed to deal with as fast as possible, promised to tell Harlan the whole truth over the weekend, preferably once they were both sated and lying naked in Harlan's bed.
Only it didn't happen that way, and there's no use torturing himself about it while he's stuck in the middle of nowhere. He sighs and turns back to his magazine, flipping past an article about one of those game show contestants who runs some business that's only getting attention because the guy was on TV for a couple weeks.
Those kinds of businesses are rarely worth his time, and anyway he's not really in the mood to find the next big prospect. He's tired of flying from meeting to meeting, feeding the same line to promising small business owners over and over. He's tired of never knowing exactly where he is, and mostly he's tired of being surrounded by strangers all the time. And he likes his job, but he's been going pretty much non-stop for the past two years and it's starting to get a little old.
He can't even remember who he's meeting tomorrow, and the thought of sweet-talking another small-time entrepreneur who thinks way too much of himself is…well, it's kind of depressing. It's not that he's not good at it - he is - it's just that there's no challenge involved in making the deal. He's given the same speech so many times now that he can say it in his sleep, and the truth is it's getting kind of boring.
On the next page there's an article about some guy in Wisconsin who's invented an environmentally friendly fertilizer, and Harlan folds back the corner of the page before he flips to the next one. When he does his heart skips a beat, and he closes his eyes and then opens them again to make sure he's not seeing things. And he must be really tired if he's hallucinating entire articles, but no matter how many times he blinks the image of Marcus grinning up at him refuses to go away.
His hair's shorter and he's filled out a little, but Harlan would recognize that smile anywhere. He's seen it enough, usually when they were tangled together and Marcus was too far gone to be self-conscious. In the picture he's sitting backwards in a chair, arms crossed over the back and green t-shirt showing off his biceps and this can't be real. Six years - six long years of searching the internet and calling colleges and Marcus' relatives, and he has the nerve to show up out of nowhere. In an article about some hot new computer game, of all things, and when Harlan scans the article and sees where Marcus' business is based he's not sure whether to laugh or hit something.
Before he even thinks about it he's reaching for his cell phone, dialing his own office and tapping his foot impatiently while he waits for his assistant to pick up. "It's me. Listen, I need you to cancel my meeting tomorrow. And find out everything you can about…" He pauses and glances back at the article, frowning at the name of Marcus' company, "…Demonifuge Entertainment in San Jose."
"What's going on?"
"Just do it," Harlan answers, and he knows when he gets back he's going to get a lecture about being rude, but right now he doesn't care. "Look, I'll explain when I get back."
"So you're coming back today? What am I supposed to tell Walker's people?"
"Who?"
"The guy you were on your way to meet?" Candace says, and he can hear her rolling her eyes at him.
"I don't care what you tell him," Harlan answers. "Tell him I got hit by a bus. Offer to fly him out to California. Whatever."
There's a long pause, and he knows she's thinking about arguing with him, but then she sighs and thinks better of it. "Fine. But you owe me."
This time Harlan rolls his eyes. "Just find out what you can about that company, okay? The guy who runs it invented some hot computer game. See if you can get ahold of the sales figures. And have a copy of the game sent over. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hangs up before she can argue with him and glances at his watch, then he glances at the picture of Marcus still staring up at him. "Unbelievable," he mutters under his breath, closing the magazine and sliding it carefully into his briefcase before he stands up and goes in search of the next flight back to San Francisco.