[fanfiction] unexpected and defeated
365 Gay Sharks
Day 46, Word Count: 3678
Theme: February; Voices of the Scorned
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Social Network; Eduardo/girl!Mark
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: For something on the TSN kink meme. For the record, I totally picture Kristen Stewart as girl!Mark. ♥ For 1st_eggokage, because all my genderswap is belong to her. Also this fic has taught me that I am pretty much incapable of writing anything for TSN fandom that is not either <500 words or >2000. WHY. WHY AM I SO GODDAMN VERBOSE.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure this is fiction, and I'm pretty sure Mark isn't secretly Marcilynn.
Summary: Marcilynn Zuckerberg would prefer you call her Mark, can code circles around you, only shaves her legs when necessary, and doesn't own any makeup unless chapstick counts. Eduardo Saverin loves her anyway, but sometimes it's hard for Marcilynn to remember that.
unexpected and defeated
Marcilynn Zuckerberg has never been very good at being a girl. Her parents were pretty laid back, and weren't really interested in bringing up a daughter who was especially feminine. No, they wanted to raise a daughter who could take care of herself. Her mother sent her to dance lessons, which she was not especially good at but was also not especially bad at, and her father sent her to karate classes, which she was also not especially good or bad at. Still, Marcilynn worked with a single-minded focus that used to make her father laugh.
"That's our Marcilynn, always working to leave a mark."
It became a nickname. Marcilynn became Mark, who wore sweatpants and hoodies, because it was pretty impractical to wear anything else when she had dance and karate classes most days after school. Marcilynn became Mark, who got her first computer at twelve and started coding not long after that. She didn't really have friends, didn't really want them, but then all of a sudden she was at Harvard and . . . And there was Dustin, who had wanted tutoring and had slowly weaseled his way into her life. With him came Chris, Dustin's roommate, who mistook Mark for a guy the first couple of times she came over to tutor Dustin, and Eduardo.
Eduardo was an anomaly. He shouldn't have been in the dorm with Chris and Dustin, really, but there he was. There he was, the only person who always called her Mark besides her parents. Never Marcilynn (Dustin, when he was trying to get her attention) or Marci (Chris, who had to be reminded that she liked to be called Mark) or Miss Zuckerberg (all of her professors) or Lynn (some girl in one of Mark's classes who probably thought she was being cute).
Instead: Mark, would you like another beer? Hello, Mark, it's nice to see you again. Being drunk isn't an excuse to grope Mark, Dustin. You should get some rest, Mark. There's a party this weekend, Mark, would you like to come? Here Mark, I got you your usual. Don't say that, Mark, you're just bitter because you're not dating anyone. Drink some water, Mark, you're too pretty to die drunk. Why aren't you wearing a jacket in this weather, Mark? I'm always here for you, Mark. Please don't forget to go to class, Mark. You are very drunk, Mark. May I kiss you, Mark?
Just Mark. Only Mark.
Mark who isn't always sure why Eduardo likes her. Mark who only ever wore makeup at dance recitals and only owns one tube of chapstick. Mark who hasn't shaved her legs in a month. Mark who can be kind of a bitch sometimes. Mark who wishes her gender wasn't an issue. Mark who is still not very good at being a girl. Mark who knows what people say about her and Eduardo.
It bothers her, kind of. Not because she cares about what other people think about her, but because people are shallow and seem to think that because she chooses to dress comfortably she's somehow ugly. It bothers her, because she knows that if she dressed nicely, bothered to dress her hair and shave her legs, they'd think she was cheating somehow. Sleeping her way to the top.
Instead: Have you seen Eduardo's girlfriend? Doesn't she know what a brush is? Man, Saverin must have some sort of issue if he's going for ugly chicks now. Does she even own a dress? Eduardo's eyes must be broken. I bet he's only dating her because she helps him with his homework. Dude, that's a chick? I thought Eduardo was gay. Man, Saverin could do so much better. What does Saverin see in that girl?
The last one is the one that hurts the most. She hears it on her way to Eduardo's room, said plainly as if her ears don't work simply because she's ugly or undesirable or whatever. People are stupid, she thinks, and she tells Eduardo so when he opens the door to his dorm room.
"People are stupid, Wardo."
Eduardo rolls his eyes, "Once again, Mark, I feel like I should remind you that not everyone is a great big genius like you."
"I know," Mark says as she steps inside, "but I'm allowed to expect them to not be incredibly ignorant, right?"
Eduardo frowns as he shuts the door, "What happened? You wanna talk about it, Mark?"
"No," she shakes her head, "it's not important. Where are Dustin and Chris?"
"Out," Eduardo flashes her a smile, "and gone for a while."
"Then I really don't want to talk about it."
Eduardo laughs, ducking down to press their lips together, and Mark relaxes into the kiss. Pushes the stupidity of the general population out of her mind and lets herself focus on Eduardo, be wrapped up in Eduardo.
She still thinks about it afterward, though. Perseverates on the benefits of putting effort into how she looks versus not. Tries to decide if being pretty is worth not being taken seriously. Curls her fingers around her cellphone and calls Erica, the girl from BU that she met at a party once. They talk sometimes, go out for drinks and bitch at each other. Mostly, she's the only girl that Mark can even barely call a friend.
"Hello?"
"Albright," Mark says, "I need your help."
"The great Marcilynn Zuckerberg needs my help? Hold on, I have to check the sky for flying pigs."
"I'm serious, Albright," Mark sighs, "I need you to go shopping with me. For clothes and . . . stuff."
There's a dead silence on the other end of the line for about thirty seconds, and Mark is worried that Erica's hung up or the call's been disconnected, but then Erica starts laughing. Mark frowns.
"Fine. If you're just going to laugh I'll-"
"No," Erica clears her throat, "sorry. I just, what brought this on?"
"Nothing," Mark lies, "can't a girl just want to look pretty?"
Erica doesn't believe the lie, Mark can tell, but she agrees to take Mark shopping anyway. Shoves dress after dress after dress into her arms and surveys the way each of them looks on Mark. Finally picks a strapless, blue dress with a sweetheart neckline that barely touches Mark's knees. It's belted, giving Mark the illusion of curves she doesn't really have, and swishes a little when she walks.
"Assuming you're trying to impress a boy," Erica smirks, "I think that'll do just fine. Now we go find shoes."
The shoes are a precariously high pair of blue pumps that Mark honestly only knows how to walk in because of that one time she had to dance in heels and nearly broke her neck trying to get the balance right. Erica looks impressed by that, and Mark rolls her eyes.
"I took dance for eight years, Albright. I can navigate a pair of heels just fine."
"You," Erica shakes her head, "are full of secrets, Zuckerberg."
"I just don't see the point in talking about myself," Mark says as she puts the shoes back into their box, "It isn't like anyone actually cares about any of it."
"You'd be surprised," Erica replies, "Some boys really do want to hear about your ballet mishaps."
"It wasn't ballet," Mark fits the lid onto the shoe box, "it was flamenco and jazz."
As Mark stands, Erica doesn't reply. She just shakes her head and walks with Mark to the counter. It isn't until they're sitting in the food court and sharing a little paper boat of fries that Erica speak again.
"So," Erica says suddenly, "why are you going to all this fuss because of a guy?"
Mark dips a fry into ketchup, "It's none of your business."
"Uh-uh," Erica points the fry she's holding at Mark, "I spent all day running around a mall with you. I deserve to know why you're suddenly all interested in being pretty."
Instead of answering, Mark just dips another fry into the ketchup and chews it. Erica folds her hands and rests her chin on them, peering at Mark from across the table until Mark fidgets under her gaze.
"I feel like everyone dismisses me because I'm not obsessed with appearances," Mark finally mutters, "and I just wanted to be worthy of Wardo, for once."
"You know," Erica sighs, "sometimes you're too hard on yourself, Mark. Yeah, you're kind of a bitch sometimes and you have a bad habit of getting frustrated with us mere mortals, but any guy would be lucky to have you. Hell, if I were a guy or you were a guy, I probably would have dated you."
Mark raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn't say anything, just keeps dipping fries in ketchup and chewing them. She wonders how different things would have been if she was a boy, then dismisses it because it doesn't matter. She probably wouldn't have Eduardo if she were a boy, and not having Eduardo wouldn't be worth people recognizing her genius. Treating her like an equal instead of a freakshow. Mark smiles at Erica, though.
"Thank you. Erica."
Erica seems startled for a second, and then she smiles back, "You're welcome."
If Mark had been a boy, though, she wouldn't have minded dating Erica. Erica was pretty okay for a "mere mortal." She doesn't have a whole lot of time to expand on that thought, though, because her cellphone goes off. She checks the caller id before answering, and it's Eduardo so she answers.
"Hello? No, I'm hanging out with Erica . . . Right, I remember. Don't worry, Wardo, I'll meet you there. Yes, I promise. Erica won't let me be late . . . Okay. I know. I know, Wardo. I love you, bye."
Erica is grinning at Mark when she hangs up, and Mark avoids looking straight at her. She focuses on the fries, focuses on getting the correct amount of ketchup onto each one.
"So," Erica kicks at Mark's ankle lightly, "how much time do we have to turn you into Cinderella?"
"I'm not Cinderella," Mark sighs, "but five hours."
There's kind of an evil glint to Erica's eyes when she hears that, and as soon as the fries are gone Erica is pushing Mark into her car and driving her back to her dorm. She makes Mark shower, shave, and get dressed, and then sits her down at her desk chair and surveys her for a moment. Erica braids a french braid headband-thing into Mark's hair, and then pulls everything else into a loose bun. It's all kind of wispy and fairy-like, which makes Mark feel like . . . like she's floating or something. Then Erica is doing her make-up and it's all kind of zen. It's so much like those hours before a dance recital, like putting on a mask so she doesn't have to be herself, that Mark feels awkward and frightened.
"I don't know if I can do this," Mark whispers.
"Zuckerberg, look at me," Erica frowns, "I am your fairy godmother, and I say you can do this. I did not spend the whole day dragging your ass around a mall just so you could chicken out on me. We are going to get in my car, I am going to drop you back on your campus, and you are going to knock every guy at this party dead. Do you understand me?"
Mark smiles, just a little, "Yes, fairy godmother. I understand."
"Good."
She dabs at Mark's makeup for a moment before ushering her into the car and driving her back to the Harvard campus. Mark gets out of the car and shuts the door before leaning into the car window. Erica waits for Mark to form the words, and finally Mark just smiles.
"You're not that bad, Albright. Thanks for everything."
"You're not that bad either, Zuckerberg," Erica laughs, "and you're welcome."
As Erica drives away, Mark waves goodbye. Then, taking a deep breath, she heads over to Alpha Epsilon Pi. The party is in full swing by the time she gets there, and she scans the room for Eduardo. When she spots him, she starts walking toward him, but she gets stopped by one of the frat boys.
"Hey," he says, "you here with someone, cutie?"
"Eduardo, actually," Mark says absently, scanning for Eduardo again, "If you'll excuse me."
It's kind of weird to be at a party where instead of hearing Oh, look, it's Saverin's girl. Why did she even bother coming? as she walks by people, she's hearing Holy shit, is that Saverin's girl? and Is that Zuckerberg? Hot damn! and other surreal comments. She's not sure how to feel about that, and she gets propositioned twice more before she finally finds Eduardo.
"Hi," she wrings her hands, "sorry. People kept trying to talk to me."
Eduardo blinks, "Mark? You're . . . I didn't know you owned a dress."
"I didn't, exactly," Mark shrugs, "Erica and I went to the mall."
"And you bought a dress," Eduardo says, slowly like he's having trouble processing.
"Yes," Mark nods, "I also bought shoes. And then Erica did my hair and makeup."
"I . . . Can we talk outside?"
Mark blinks then shrugs, letting Eduardo tangle his fingers with hers and lead her outside. His hands swallow hers, and it never stops being fascinating how different the size between their hands in. They're weaving through the crowd, weaving through the heavy bass, and then they're outside. Eduardo sort of slumps against the building, fingers still laced with Mark's, and she stands in front of him.
"Did Erica dress you up?"
Mark shakes her head, "I asked her to help me."
"Help you with what, M ark?"
Mark shrugs, "I just . . . Do you know last week, when I told you people were stupid and I didn't want to talk about it? Well, I was walking up to your dorm room and I passed by a couple guys talking, and just as I walked by them they said what does Saverin see in that girl? like I didn't exist or I was deaf, and it just. I know I'm not that pretty and I'm kind of a bitch and I just. I just wanted to be good enough for you, once."
"Wait," Eduardo covers his face with the hand that's not holding Mark's and exhales, "Repeat that last part."
"I just wanted to be good enough for you, once?"
"No," Eduardo shakes his head, "the thing before the thing before that."
Mark has to pause, then she tilts her head to the side, "I know I'm not that pretty?"
Eduardo closes his eyes and takes a breath before opening them and looking at Mark. Eduardo's eyes are hard to read, and sort of endless. Mark's first instinct when Eduardo stares at her like that is to close her eyes or look away. Instead she stays still, lets Eduardo look. Finally, he sighs.
"Okay, change of plans. We're going back to your dorm, you're changing out of this," Eduardo gives a weird, vague gesture to Mark's current self, "and I'm going to hammer how beautiful you are into your crazy little genius brain if it takes all night."
Mark is having a hard time processing what's just been said to her, but Eduardo gives her a smile and Mark finds herself smiling too. She squeezes Eduardo's hand and they walk back to her dorm, their intertwined fingers hanging between them and swinging slightly. When they finally make it to Mark's dorm room, she unlocks the door and lets Eduardo inside. He kisses her, like a promise, and then gives her a gentle push towards her bathroom. Mark huffs at that, but goes over to the bathroom.
She sheds her shoes as she goes and starts unzipping the dress before she's all the way into the bathroom. She's not wearing a bra and it isn't like her body is anything Eduardo hasn't seen before, so she lets the dress drop to the floor, steps out of it, and keeps walking. As she's walking into the bathroom, Eduardo sighs from behind her.
"Were you raised in a barn, Mark?"
"No," Mark calls from in the bathroom where she's scrubbing the makeup off, "I was going to pick it up later."
There's another sigh and she knows that Eduardo is folding the dress nicely and putting it on the chair, because that's what he always does. He always folds the clothes Mark drops everywhere and leaves them on the chair, maybe because he's nice or maybe because he's weirdly OCD about dirty laundry. Mark's never figured it out, and she doesn't really care either way. It's weirdly endearing, weirdly Eduardo, and she likes the reminder that he's been in her space. That he cares.
He's leaning against the door frame of the bathroom watching her wipe away the mask she's been wearing, having shed his jacket and his shirt. When she drops the towel into the sink, Eduardo crosses the space between them. Mark rises, steadying herself by gripping Eduardo's shoulders, and then their lips meet. It's as precarious as any of their kisses are, Mark swaying slightly and Eduardo's hands on her hips. Mark pulls away after a while and Eduardo presses a kiss to her forehead.
"C'mon, Mark," Eduardo whispers into her ear, "Bed."
"Yeah," Mark manages, "bed."
Eduardo mostly keeps his hands to himself, mostly doesn't distract them from their goal of getting onto the bed, mostly helps when Mark shimmies out of her underwear, and they make it there eventually. Eventually, Eduardo is hovering above Mark and then he's trailing kisses down her body, nudging her legs apart. Mark acquiesces, and Eduardo settles between her legs. He skims his fingers up her thighs, skims them down her cunt and then brings them to his lips. Mark watches, always fascinated with the way Eduardo loves this. He sucks the tips of his fingers clean, and then looks up at Mark and fucking smiles.
"I know you don't believe me, but you are the most beautiful girl I know."
Mark is going to say something, but then Eduardo dips a finger into her without warning and no. No, she doesn't have the words to say anything in response to Eduardo.
"I'm serious," Eduardo continues, casually fingering her, "I mean, yes. Yes, you can be kind of a bitch and you have a habit of forgetting that not everyone is a big genius like you, but you're also very pretty. I sometimes think, Mark, that you've filled your head so full of code that you don't have enough memory space left to understand that I love you."
He slips in another finger, and Mark's hips arch uselessly into the air, trying to get him deeper. She whines, and Eduardo laughs, instead thrusting shallowly, making Mark whine again. Eduardo's lips brush the crease between her leg and torso, as if an apology, and he continues speaking again.
"It's really very simple, Mark. I love you, I think you're the most beautiful girl I know, and I'm not going anywhere. You have to trust me not to run away and leave, because I trust you to do the same. You don't need to change yourself at all, I like you exactly the way you are," Eduardo punctuates the sentence by dipping his fingers deeper, "and you know what? I like being the only one to know you're beautiful."
Mark is shaking slightly, and Eduardo stops teasing. He keeps fingering her, maneuvering his fingers so he can rub slow circles over Mark's clit with his thumb. She makes a noise, broken and needy, at that.
"That probably makes me selfish, wanting you to myself," Eduardo says, "but I can't help it."
Eduardo bends down then, replacing his thumb with his tongue, and Mark's fingers bury themselves in his hair. It'll be a mess when they're done, but Eduardo honestly does not care, lets her arch up against his tongue and tug on his hair. Lets her push him away after she comes and everything is too much. Lets her circle dainty fingers around his wrist and bring his hand her her mouth, tasting herself on his fingers. Lets her guide him until she's straddling him and undoing his pants, yanking them down with his underwear and then positioning him until she's about to sink down.
"Mark," Eduardo says, "Mark, condom."
"It's fine," Mark smiles, just barely, "Trust me, Wardo."
And as stupid as it probably is, as stupid as ever getting involved with Mark in the first place is, Eduardo trusts her. So he lets her sink down onto him, kisses her through adjusting to it, moves in time with her when she finally gets a rhythm going. Lets his hands skim up her body until he's at her breasts. Lets her fall forward, hair falling like a curtain around them, and lets her kiss him. Lets her whisper into his ear, just a little hoarse, "Come on. Come on, Wardo."
Lets her collapse on top of him once he's done, even though she's kind of heavy. Lets her convince him to stay the night, even though that's technically not allowed and the bed is cramped.
"Okay," Eduardo sighs, "on one condition."
Mark somehow manages to have the energy to raise an eyebrow, "What is it?"
"Repeat after me me: I am the most beautiful girl Eduardo knows, even when I wear the same clothes for three days, and I won't make up bullshit about not being worthy otherwise Eduardo is going to be sad."
Mark rolls her eyes, but dutifully repeats anyways, "I am the most beautiful girl Wardo knows, even when I wear the same clothes for three days, and I won't make up bullshit about not being worthy otherwise Wardo is going to be sad. Happy?"
Eduardo presses a kiss to Mark's temple and curves around her. She curves into him, seeking out his hand and tangling their fingers together.
"Very."
----
Postit-Notes: Hahahahaha oh god why does this exist and why is it so long jesus christ. For the record, Marcilynn is a variant of the name Marcy, which is the female variant of Mark. Why did I chose it? It sounds pretty. Stop judging me.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D
Day 46, Word Count: 3678
Theme: February; Voices of the Scorned
This post is part of the 365 Gay Sharks project. If you would like to learn more about this project, click here to read more about it. :D
Fandom/Pairings: The Social Network; Eduardo/girl!Mark
Rating: R
Pre-Notes: For something on the TSN kink meme. For the record, I totally picture Kristen Stewart as girl!Mark. ♥ For 1st_eggokage, because all my genderswap is belong to her. Also this fic has taught me that I am pretty much incapable of writing anything for TSN fandom that is not either <500 words or >2000. WHY. WHY AM I SO GODDAMN VERBOSE.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure this is fiction, and I'm pretty sure Mark isn't secretly Marcilynn.
Summary: Marcilynn Zuckerberg would prefer you call her Mark, can code circles around you, only shaves her legs when necessary, and doesn't own any makeup unless chapstick counts. Eduardo Saverin loves her anyway, but sometimes it's hard for Marcilynn to remember that.
unexpected and defeated
Marcilynn Zuckerberg has never been very good at being a girl. Her parents were pretty laid back, and weren't really interested in bringing up a daughter who was especially feminine. No, they wanted to raise a daughter who could take care of herself. Her mother sent her to dance lessons, which she was not especially good at but was also not especially bad at, and her father sent her to karate classes, which she was also not especially good or bad at. Still, Marcilynn worked with a single-minded focus that used to make her father laugh.
"That's our Marcilynn, always working to leave a mark."
It became a nickname. Marcilynn became Mark, who wore sweatpants and hoodies, because it was pretty impractical to wear anything else when she had dance and karate classes most days after school. Marcilynn became Mark, who got her first computer at twelve and started coding not long after that. She didn't really have friends, didn't really want them, but then all of a sudden she was at Harvard and . . . And there was Dustin, who had wanted tutoring and had slowly weaseled his way into her life. With him came Chris, Dustin's roommate, who mistook Mark for a guy the first couple of times she came over to tutor Dustin, and Eduardo.
Eduardo was an anomaly. He shouldn't have been in the dorm with Chris and Dustin, really, but there he was. There he was, the only person who always called her Mark besides her parents. Never Marcilynn (Dustin, when he was trying to get her attention) or Marci (Chris, who had to be reminded that she liked to be called Mark) or Miss Zuckerberg (all of her professors) or Lynn (some girl in one of Mark's classes who probably thought she was being cute).
Instead: Mark, would you like another beer? Hello, Mark, it's nice to see you again. Being drunk isn't an excuse to grope Mark, Dustin. You should get some rest, Mark. There's a party this weekend, Mark, would you like to come? Here Mark, I got you your usual. Don't say that, Mark, you're just bitter because you're not dating anyone. Drink some water, Mark, you're too pretty to die drunk. Why aren't you wearing a jacket in this weather, Mark? I'm always here for you, Mark. Please don't forget to go to class, Mark. You are very drunk, Mark. May I kiss you, Mark?
Just Mark. Only Mark.
Mark who isn't always sure why Eduardo likes her. Mark who only ever wore makeup at dance recitals and only owns one tube of chapstick. Mark who hasn't shaved her legs in a month. Mark who can be kind of a bitch sometimes. Mark who wishes her gender wasn't an issue. Mark who is still not very good at being a girl. Mark who knows what people say about her and Eduardo.
It bothers her, kind of. Not because she cares about what other people think about her, but because people are shallow and seem to think that because she chooses to dress comfortably she's somehow ugly. It bothers her, because she knows that if she dressed nicely, bothered to dress her hair and shave her legs, they'd think she was cheating somehow. Sleeping her way to the top.
Instead: Have you seen Eduardo's girlfriend? Doesn't she know what a brush is? Man, Saverin must have some sort of issue if he's going for ugly chicks now. Does she even own a dress? Eduardo's eyes must be broken. I bet he's only dating her because she helps him with his homework. Dude, that's a chick? I thought Eduardo was gay. Man, Saverin could do so much better. What does Saverin see in that girl?
The last one is the one that hurts the most. She hears it on her way to Eduardo's room, said plainly as if her ears don't work simply because she's ugly or undesirable or whatever. People are stupid, she thinks, and she tells Eduardo so when he opens the door to his dorm room.
"People are stupid, Wardo."
Eduardo rolls his eyes, "Once again, Mark, I feel like I should remind you that not everyone is a great big genius like you."
"I know," Mark says as she steps inside, "but I'm allowed to expect them to not be incredibly ignorant, right?"
Eduardo frowns as he shuts the door, "What happened? You wanna talk about it, Mark?"
"No," she shakes her head, "it's not important. Where are Dustin and Chris?"
"Out," Eduardo flashes her a smile, "and gone for a while."
"Then I really don't want to talk about it."
Eduardo laughs, ducking down to press their lips together, and Mark relaxes into the kiss. Pushes the stupidity of the general population out of her mind and lets herself focus on Eduardo, be wrapped up in Eduardo.
She still thinks about it afterward, though. Perseverates on the benefits of putting effort into how she looks versus not. Tries to decide if being pretty is worth not being taken seriously. Curls her fingers around her cellphone and calls Erica, the girl from BU that she met at a party once. They talk sometimes, go out for drinks and bitch at each other. Mostly, she's the only girl that Mark can even barely call a friend.
"Hello?"
"Albright," Mark says, "I need your help."
"The great Marcilynn Zuckerberg needs my help? Hold on, I have to check the sky for flying pigs."
"I'm serious, Albright," Mark sighs, "I need you to go shopping with me. For clothes and . . . stuff."
There's a dead silence on the other end of the line for about thirty seconds, and Mark is worried that Erica's hung up or the call's been disconnected, but then Erica starts laughing. Mark frowns.
"Fine. If you're just going to laugh I'll-"
"No," Erica clears her throat, "sorry. I just, what brought this on?"
"Nothing," Mark lies, "can't a girl just want to look pretty?"
Erica doesn't believe the lie, Mark can tell, but she agrees to take Mark shopping anyway. Shoves dress after dress after dress into her arms and surveys the way each of them looks on Mark. Finally picks a strapless, blue dress with a sweetheart neckline that barely touches Mark's knees. It's belted, giving Mark the illusion of curves she doesn't really have, and swishes a little when she walks.
"Assuming you're trying to impress a boy," Erica smirks, "I think that'll do just fine. Now we go find shoes."
The shoes are a precariously high pair of blue pumps that Mark honestly only knows how to walk in because of that one time she had to dance in heels and nearly broke her neck trying to get the balance right. Erica looks impressed by that, and Mark rolls her eyes.
"I took dance for eight years, Albright. I can navigate a pair of heels just fine."
"You," Erica shakes her head, "are full of secrets, Zuckerberg."
"I just don't see the point in talking about myself," Mark says as she puts the shoes back into their box, "It isn't like anyone actually cares about any of it."
"You'd be surprised," Erica replies, "Some boys really do want to hear about your ballet mishaps."
"It wasn't ballet," Mark fits the lid onto the shoe box, "it was flamenco and jazz."
As Mark stands, Erica doesn't reply. She just shakes her head and walks with Mark to the counter. It isn't until they're sitting in the food court and sharing a little paper boat of fries that Erica speak again.
"So," Erica says suddenly, "why are you going to all this fuss because of a guy?"
Mark dips a fry into ketchup, "It's none of your business."
"Uh-uh," Erica points the fry she's holding at Mark, "I spent all day running around a mall with you. I deserve to know why you're suddenly all interested in being pretty."
Instead of answering, Mark just dips another fry into the ketchup and chews it. Erica folds her hands and rests her chin on them, peering at Mark from across the table until Mark fidgets under her gaze.
"I feel like everyone dismisses me because I'm not obsessed with appearances," Mark finally mutters, "and I just wanted to be worthy of Wardo, for once."
"You know," Erica sighs, "sometimes you're too hard on yourself, Mark. Yeah, you're kind of a bitch sometimes and you have a bad habit of getting frustrated with us mere mortals, but any guy would be lucky to have you. Hell, if I were a guy or you were a guy, I probably would have dated you."
Mark raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn't say anything, just keeps dipping fries in ketchup and chewing them. She wonders how different things would have been if she was a boy, then dismisses it because it doesn't matter. She probably wouldn't have Eduardo if she were a boy, and not having Eduardo wouldn't be worth people recognizing her genius. Treating her like an equal instead of a freakshow. Mark smiles at Erica, though.
"Thank you. Erica."
Erica seems startled for a second, and then she smiles back, "You're welcome."
If Mark had been a boy, though, she wouldn't have minded dating Erica. Erica was pretty okay for a "mere mortal." She doesn't have a whole lot of time to expand on that thought, though, because her cellphone goes off. She checks the caller id before answering, and it's Eduardo so she answers.
"Hello? No, I'm hanging out with Erica . . . Right, I remember. Don't worry, Wardo, I'll meet you there. Yes, I promise. Erica won't let me be late . . . Okay. I know. I know, Wardo. I love you, bye."
Erica is grinning at Mark when she hangs up, and Mark avoids looking straight at her. She focuses on the fries, focuses on getting the correct amount of ketchup onto each one.
"So," Erica kicks at Mark's ankle lightly, "how much time do we have to turn you into Cinderella?"
"I'm not Cinderella," Mark sighs, "but five hours."
There's kind of an evil glint to Erica's eyes when she hears that, and as soon as the fries are gone Erica is pushing Mark into her car and driving her back to her dorm. She makes Mark shower, shave, and get dressed, and then sits her down at her desk chair and surveys her for a moment. Erica braids a french braid headband-thing into Mark's hair, and then pulls everything else into a loose bun. It's all kind of wispy and fairy-like, which makes Mark feel like . . . like she's floating or something. Then Erica is doing her make-up and it's all kind of zen. It's so much like those hours before a dance recital, like putting on a mask so she doesn't have to be herself, that Mark feels awkward and frightened.
"I don't know if I can do this," Mark whispers.
"Zuckerberg, look at me," Erica frowns, "I am your fairy godmother, and I say you can do this. I did not spend the whole day dragging your ass around a mall just so you could chicken out on me. We are going to get in my car, I am going to drop you back on your campus, and you are going to knock every guy at this party dead. Do you understand me?"
Mark smiles, just a little, "Yes, fairy godmother. I understand."
"Good."
She dabs at Mark's makeup for a moment before ushering her into the car and driving her back to the Harvard campus. Mark gets out of the car and shuts the door before leaning into the car window. Erica waits for Mark to form the words, and finally Mark just smiles.
"You're not that bad, Albright. Thanks for everything."
"You're not that bad either, Zuckerberg," Erica laughs, "and you're welcome."
As Erica drives away, Mark waves goodbye. Then, taking a deep breath, she heads over to Alpha Epsilon Pi. The party is in full swing by the time she gets there, and she scans the room for Eduardo. When she spots him, she starts walking toward him, but she gets stopped by one of the frat boys.
"Hey," he says, "you here with someone, cutie?"
"Eduardo, actually," Mark says absently, scanning for Eduardo again, "If you'll excuse me."
It's kind of weird to be at a party where instead of hearing Oh, look, it's Saverin's girl. Why did she even bother coming? as she walks by people, she's hearing Holy shit, is that Saverin's girl? and Is that Zuckerberg? Hot damn! and other surreal comments. She's not sure how to feel about that, and she gets propositioned twice more before she finally finds Eduardo.
"Hi," she wrings her hands, "sorry. People kept trying to talk to me."
Eduardo blinks, "Mark? You're . . . I didn't know you owned a dress."
"I didn't, exactly," Mark shrugs, "Erica and I went to the mall."
"And you bought a dress," Eduardo says, slowly like he's having trouble processing.
"Yes," Mark nods, "I also bought shoes. And then Erica did my hair and makeup."
"I . . . Can we talk outside?"
Mark blinks then shrugs, letting Eduardo tangle his fingers with hers and lead her outside. His hands swallow hers, and it never stops being fascinating how different the size between their hands in. They're weaving through the crowd, weaving through the heavy bass, and then they're outside. Eduardo sort of slumps against the building, fingers still laced with Mark's, and she stands in front of him.
"Did Erica dress you up?"
Mark shakes her head, "I asked her to help me."
"Help you with what, M ark?"
Mark shrugs, "I just . . . Do you know last week, when I told you people were stupid and I didn't want to talk about it? Well, I was walking up to your dorm room and I passed by a couple guys talking, and just as I walked by them they said what does Saverin see in that girl? like I didn't exist or I was deaf, and it just. I know I'm not that pretty and I'm kind of a bitch and I just. I just wanted to be good enough for you, once."
"Wait," Eduardo covers his face with the hand that's not holding Mark's and exhales, "Repeat that last part."
"I just wanted to be good enough for you, once?"
"No," Eduardo shakes his head, "the thing before the thing before that."
Mark has to pause, then she tilts her head to the side, "I know I'm not that pretty?"
Eduardo closes his eyes and takes a breath before opening them and looking at Mark. Eduardo's eyes are hard to read, and sort of endless. Mark's first instinct when Eduardo stares at her like that is to close her eyes or look away. Instead she stays still, lets Eduardo look. Finally, he sighs.
"Okay, change of plans. We're going back to your dorm, you're changing out of this," Eduardo gives a weird, vague gesture to Mark's current self, "and I'm going to hammer how beautiful you are into your crazy little genius brain if it takes all night."
Mark is having a hard time processing what's just been said to her, but Eduardo gives her a smile and Mark finds herself smiling too. She squeezes Eduardo's hand and they walk back to her dorm, their intertwined fingers hanging between them and swinging slightly. When they finally make it to Mark's dorm room, she unlocks the door and lets Eduardo inside. He kisses her, like a promise, and then gives her a gentle push towards her bathroom. Mark huffs at that, but goes over to the bathroom.
She sheds her shoes as she goes and starts unzipping the dress before she's all the way into the bathroom. She's not wearing a bra and it isn't like her body is anything Eduardo hasn't seen before, so she lets the dress drop to the floor, steps out of it, and keeps walking. As she's walking into the bathroom, Eduardo sighs from behind her.
"Were you raised in a barn, Mark?"
"No," Mark calls from in the bathroom where she's scrubbing the makeup off, "I was going to pick it up later."
There's another sigh and she knows that Eduardo is folding the dress nicely and putting it on the chair, because that's what he always does. He always folds the clothes Mark drops everywhere and leaves them on the chair, maybe because he's nice or maybe because he's weirdly OCD about dirty laundry. Mark's never figured it out, and she doesn't really care either way. It's weirdly endearing, weirdly Eduardo, and she likes the reminder that he's been in her space. That he cares.
He's leaning against the door frame of the bathroom watching her wipe away the mask she's been wearing, having shed his jacket and his shirt. When she drops the towel into the sink, Eduardo crosses the space between them. Mark rises, steadying herself by gripping Eduardo's shoulders, and then their lips meet. It's as precarious as any of their kisses are, Mark swaying slightly and Eduardo's hands on her hips. Mark pulls away after a while and Eduardo presses a kiss to her forehead.
"C'mon, Mark," Eduardo whispers into her ear, "Bed."
"Yeah," Mark manages, "bed."
Eduardo mostly keeps his hands to himself, mostly doesn't distract them from their goal of getting onto the bed, mostly helps when Mark shimmies out of her underwear, and they make it there eventually. Eventually, Eduardo is hovering above Mark and then he's trailing kisses down her body, nudging her legs apart. Mark acquiesces, and Eduardo settles between her legs. He skims his fingers up her thighs, skims them down her cunt and then brings them to his lips. Mark watches, always fascinated with the way Eduardo loves this. He sucks the tips of his fingers clean, and then looks up at Mark and fucking smiles.
"I know you don't believe me, but you are the most beautiful girl I know."
Mark is going to say something, but then Eduardo dips a finger into her without warning and no. No, she doesn't have the words to say anything in response to Eduardo.
"I'm serious," Eduardo continues, casually fingering her, "I mean, yes. Yes, you can be kind of a bitch and you have a habit of forgetting that not everyone is a big genius like you, but you're also very pretty. I sometimes think, Mark, that you've filled your head so full of code that you don't have enough memory space left to understand that I love you."
He slips in another finger, and Mark's hips arch uselessly into the air, trying to get him deeper. She whines, and Eduardo laughs, instead thrusting shallowly, making Mark whine again. Eduardo's lips brush the crease between her leg and torso, as if an apology, and he continues speaking again.
"It's really very simple, Mark. I love you, I think you're the most beautiful girl I know, and I'm not going anywhere. You have to trust me not to run away and leave, because I trust you to do the same. You don't need to change yourself at all, I like you exactly the way you are," Eduardo punctuates the sentence by dipping his fingers deeper, "and you know what? I like being the only one to know you're beautiful."
Mark is shaking slightly, and Eduardo stops teasing. He keeps fingering her, maneuvering his fingers so he can rub slow circles over Mark's clit with his thumb. She makes a noise, broken and needy, at that.
"That probably makes me selfish, wanting you to myself," Eduardo says, "but I can't help it."
Eduardo bends down then, replacing his thumb with his tongue, and Mark's fingers bury themselves in his hair. It'll be a mess when they're done, but Eduardo honestly does not care, lets her arch up against his tongue and tug on his hair. Lets her push him away after she comes and everything is too much. Lets her circle dainty fingers around his wrist and bring his hand her her mouth, tasting herself on his fingers. Lets her guide him until she's straddling him and undoing his pants, yanking them down with his underwear and then positioning him until she's about to sink down.
"Mark," Eduardo says, "Mark, condom."
"It's fine," Mark smiles, just barely, "Trust me, Wardo."
And as stupid as it probably is, as stupid as ever getting involved with Mark in the first place is, Eduardo trusts her. So he lets her sink down onto him, kisses her through adjusting to it, moves in time with her when she finally gets a rhythm going. Lets his hands skim up her body until he's at her breasts. Lets her fall forward, hair falling like a curtain around them, and lets her kiss him. Lets her whisper into his ear, just a little hoarse, "Come on. Come on, Wardo."
Lets her collapse on top of him once he's done, even though she's kind of heavy. Lets her convince him to stay the night, even though that's technically not allowed and the bed is cramped.
"Okay," Eduardo sighs, "on one condition."
Mark somehow manages to have the energy to raise an eyebrow, "What is it?"
"Repeat after me me: I am the most beautiful girl Eduardo knows, even when I wear the same clothes for three days, and I won't make up bullshit about not being worthy otherwise Eduardo is going to be sad."
Mark rolls her eyes, but dutifully repeats anyways, "I am the most beautiful girl Wardo knows, even when I wear the same clothes for three days, and I won't make up bullshit about not being worthy otherwise Wardo is going to be sad. Happy?"
Eduardo presses a kiss to Mark's temple and curves around her. She curves into him, seeking out his hand and tangling their fingers together.
"Very."
----
Postit-Notes: Hahahahaha oh god why does this exist and why is it so long jesus christ. For the record, Marcilynn is a variant of the name Marcy, which is the female variant of Mark. Why did I chose it? It sounds pretty. Stop judging me.
This entry originally posted here. Original entry currently has
comments. :D