FIC: If You Just Laid Down (Your Tracks)
FIC: If You Just Laid Down (Your Tracks)
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark, Dustin/random-but-nice OFC
Rating: PG13
Summary: Dustin gets laid. Mark is annoyed.
Author's Note the First: I'm not pretending Peter Gabriel is cool, but the opening of "Sledgehammer" has always struck me as very wise. You may disagree.
Author's Note the Second: Also, it's about freakin' time that Dustin got some! Jesus Christ.
You could have a steam train, if you just laid down your tracks
"You know, it was never actually completely out of the question." Wardo says, voice tinged with amusement.
"That's not the point," Mark says. "It's just not… I don't understand what she sees in him. I mean, it's Dustin."
"Dustin's nice," Wardo says, and he still doesn't understand. But then again, Mark isn't sure that he fully wants him to.
"Are you jealous?" Wardo suddenly says, straightening up a bit.
"No!" Mark shouts. Wardo narrows his eyes a little and then sinks down again. He's lying on Mark's bed, propped up on one elbow, head in his upturned hand. They are sexiled from the lounge from where Dustin's current exercise is all too audible.
"Enid's nice." Wardo continues.
"Yes! Exactly!" Mark says. He shouldn't have had so much to drink, he is getting too expressive for his own liking. "So what does she want with Dustin?"
"I think she thinks he's funny." Wardo offers. "He is funny, actually, come to think about it."
Mark just huffs.
"You could be a bit happier for him, you know,"
Mark huffs louder.
"What?" Wardo says. "You could!"
"Well, it's easy for you, isn't it!" Mark hisses, jumping up from his desk chair. That's a little too much action really, and he should probably stop right there. Before he says anything stupid and honest, like I figured even I could get laid before Dustin, I have some fucking pride, but now even Dustin has gotten himself a girlfriend or whatever and nobody even looks at me and - Contrary to popular belief, Mark is not actually a robot.
Wardo frowns. "What do you mean?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused.
"You, you can have everyone you want because," Mark gestures vaguely at Eduardo, "you're… this."
"That's not true," Wardo says, picking fascinating if invisible bits of lint off the blanket.
"Yes, it is." Mark says irritably. "You could, literally, just, literally anybody -"
"Can't have you, can I?" Wardo interrupts quietly and looks up at him from under dark lashes. There's an odd small smile on his lips but it hasn't really reached his eyes. This is unusual. Wardo smiles with his entire face, normally. Hell, his entire body.
"I - don't - you - what?" says Mark, intelligently.
"You heard me," Wardo replies quietly and resumes his lint-picking with determination. His cheekbones look brushed with pink but that must be the light.
"I - " Mark starts again. "What?"
"Just saying," Wardo says and pushes himself up off the bed. He doesn't look at Mark as he smoothes down his suit. "I should get back to mine."
And then he just walks out, taking care not to brush against Mark, and when he opens the door it's perfectly timed for them to hear a particularly loud moan (nice AND good in bed, fantastic Mark thinks bitchily) and Wardo's knuckles turn white around the door knob for a moment, and then he's gone.
Mark isn't sure what's just happened. So he sits back down at his desk, puts on his headphones and starts typing out random bits of code. It doesn't make him any less confused.