FIC: You Could Have (An Aeroplane)
FIC: You Could Have (An Aeroplane)
Pairing: Eduardo/Mark, Dustin/Enid, Eduardo/elaborately-styled OFC
Rating: PG
Summary: Partytime, excellent.
Author's Note the First: As for names, it just had to be Enid.
Author's Note the Second: Follows this.
You could have an aeroplane, flying, if you bring your blue skies back
Enid has Dustin up against the fridge (Mark remembers Dustin, The Morning After, sleep-deprived and feverish and Mark, she is INCREDIBLE) and they are making out, but impressively managing not to look like they are in junior high. Not that Mark is watching or anything. He just checks on their progress every now and then from where he's standing in the doorframe, with one of Chris's philosophy major friends trying to talk to him about what all that web 2.0 stuff means for the ethics of hacking.
Philosophy Guy gives up eventually and goes to nudge Dustin and Enid out of the way so he can grab another beer. Mark scans the bigger room on his other side. He knows only a handfull of people here from class. He can't see the girl with the liquid-straight hair who'd been talking to Wardo earlier. Flirting with Wardo, really. He can't see Wardo either.
"Alright?" Enid says and pokes him in the ribs with her bottle.
"Hm, yeah." Mark says. "You?" Her lips look shiny, although that could be the beer. They look bruised, too. Not the beer, then. He likes Enid.
"My suitemate is home for the weekend," Enid says. "So…" And for an insane moment Mark thinks she is actually coming onto him, but she continues, "Dustin and I will probably head back to my place." Of course.
"Okay," he says.
"Just so you don't worry," she adds, dryly.
"I worry more about him when he's with you, I think," Mark says.
"Ha! And so you should," Enid says, unperturbed, and clinks her bottle against his. "See you later, Mark."
"Yeah, see you," he says. Enid's alright.
And then he sees the girl, and he sees Wardo, too. They are coming out of somebody else's bedroom, and Wardo's shirt is rumpled and the girl's hair isn't quite so perfect anymore. They are holding hands. Well. Okay.
Wardo's letting go now, though, and saying something to her, and she smiles too brightly and moves off towards the hall. Mark leans his head back against the doorframe and tunes out the rest of the party and watches Eduardo run a hand through his hair, doing that stupid Lady Di look-down-look-up fawn things of his, and then he's spotted Mark and is moving toward him.
"Mark," he says, and his lips look shiny and bruised too, and Mark bites out, "That's what I meant." You can have everyone you want. He knows that his mouth is pressed together in a line and that he looks just like his mother when she is angry but won't say.
"It's not -" Wardo starts, but Mark interrupts him. "And you could have me. You know you could." And then he turns around and leaves. An exit. He has made an exit.
He doesn't actually think that Wardo will follow him, although he could do, theoretically (does, in a parallel universe) so he is not really surreptitiously looking over his shoulder when he reaches the bottom of the staircase and heads for the front door. He knows Wardo is not going to be there, and he isn't, and that's ok. It's ok, Mark thinks. As long as Wardo doesn't go home with that girl with the ironed-flat hair.