fic: The Psychic Network (Mark/Eduardo, Prompt 86)
Title: The Psychic Network
Recipient: bingbulette
Prompt Number: 86
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Eduardo, Chris/Dustin
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (some mild language)
Word Count: ~4000
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): Psych AU! Dustin is a "psychic detective", pretending to solve cases with psychic abilities. His reluctant partner in crime is Mark. Together they work as freelance consultants for the Santa Barbara Police Department, where they assist Detectives Chris Hughes and Eduardo Saverin with their cases.
The Psychic Network (Possibly The World’s Lamest Title Ever)
“That’s the best you’ve got?” Dustin hisses under his breath, his arms still flapping wildly in the air.
“Yes, that’s the best I’ve got,” Mark hisses back, “considering you gave me nothing to work with and I’ve only been here fifteen minutes.” But Dustin still looks dubious and Mark really can’t afford losing the only friend he’s got so he adds: “But trust me, they’ll take the bait. How smart can they be? They’re cops.”
Dustin shrugs and continues his arm-flapping and squawking (which, paired with his bright orange hair, kind of makes him look like a parrot, Mark thinks). Mark watches as the eyes on the police force widen collectively when Dustin says something along the lines of “the spirits are directing me, they’re taking me with them…no, they’re taking us! They’re taking us…swimming? Swimming, yes! To the dock, everybody!” and Mark wonders how all of this started.
(How it started was with a phone call from Dustin at 10pm on a Wednesday night in which the words “Help! I need you to lie to the police with me!” were fatefully spoken. Dustin’s only lucky that Mark decided that this (mis)adventure sounded a lot more fun than what he was currently doing, which was trying to figure out a way to hack into the San Francisco zoo. He…has a thing for polar bears, okay?)
“Hang on, how do we know this guy’s legit?” One of the cops who’s not Eduardo (because Mark made it a point to remember which one introduced himself as Eduardo fifteen minutes ago for reasons unknown to Mark at this foggy moment) interrupts.
Dustin scoffs. “Please. I went to college for four years. And I barely studied. What do you think I was doing while I was not studying? Honing my psychic abilities, duh.”
Mark cannot believe that his friend (the only one he’s got) just said “psychic” and “duh” in the same sentence. But it made the cop who is Eduardo chuckle, the corners of his eyes all crinkly and his smile bright, so. That’s something.
“Why are you all wasting my time?” the chief, whose name is unimportant to Mark, grunts. “It’s our only lead, so let’s get down to the dock and follow it!”
Dustin thrusts his fist in the air, shouts “Huzzah!” and pulls Mark to one of the cars outdoors. “Marky, can you believe how much fun is being had by us? By us! Admit it, if you weren’t doing this near-orgasmically exciting thing right now, you’d probably be hacking into the public school system, right?”
Mark won’t glorify that with a response other than “Orgasmically is not a word.” (Though Dustin’s right - the public school system certainly needs some help and would probably be easier to hack into than the zoo.)
Dustin bounces as he drives, which paired his natural inability to maneuver an empty street, causes Mark’s unease to rise. “This is just so much fun, isn’t it so much fun? I’m having so much fun! And I think that gay cop likes me.”
“What.” Well that was…that was. That. Mark hadn’t realized that Dustin had also picked up on the gay vibes that Eduardo was sending out. Not that Mark claims to be a connoisseur of gayness but he just, you know. He appreciates another man’s dick when the occasion arises. Wait, no. That came out wrong.
“Why’d your voice get all weird? Anyway, yeah, the gay one. He kept looking at me. I could,” Dustin gives Mark a shit-eating grin, “sense it.”
Had Eduardo really been looking at Dustin that much? Also something Mark didn’t want to think about. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. This is weird. Why are we doing this?”
“Because you said the bad guys were at the dock!”
“Ugh, yes Dustin, the bad guys are at the dock. But I mean, why are you pretending to be psychic to the police department and why am I helping you? Correction: why am I doing all the work?”
“Because, Marky Mark, it’s something to do! It’s a win-win. I get to make my Dad proud - you know how he spends his retirement watching NCIS and shit - and get some much-needed cash and you get to use your brains without actually having to make a fool out of yourself-”
“Yeah, because you certainly do that part.”
“I’m choosing to ignore that. And we’ll make some new buddies. Cop buddies! One of which might be gay! And goodness knows one of us needs to get laid and, let’s face reality, we’ve struck out in the girls department one too many times. So I guess technically it’s a win-win-win-win? Think about it, Mark! Gay cop buddies! With whom we can eat donuts while we discuss House Hunters! What could be better?”
Buddies wasn’t a term Mark thought he would ever end up applying to his life. But maybe, hypothetically, it wouldn’t be so bad to be buddies with, say, Eduardo. As an example. Hypothetically.
****
A week after the lying-to-the-police incident, Dustin saunters into Mark’s room, plucks the headphones off his ears and sings, “We got paid by the po-lice! We got paid by the po-lice! The po-po gave money to us, cause we’re hot pieces of ass!”
“Us and ass don’t even rhyme, Dustin.”
“Whatever, the point still stands: it’s pay-day, baby!” He slaps the check down near Mark’s keyboard and Marks glances, and then hums appreciatively, before turning back to his hacking. Dustin leans over his shoulder, smelling faintly like calzones.
“Why’re you hacking into the Santa Barbara police station, man? We just got paid, we don’t need to hack them.”
Mark’s face goes uncharacteristically red. “I…uh, thought. That, um, you know. We should do some background checks on the cops we’re working for. Just to, you know, make sure they were legit and all.”
“Who cares if they’re legit?” Dustin says, his eyes trained on the grumpy blonde cop’s picture. “They’re hot and they give us money. Also! Calzones! Also, they’re not cops. They’re detectives. Way hotter.”
“Are you turning gay on me all of a sudden? Cause like, whatever man, I just don’t want to deal with your crises or some shit like that.”
Now it’s Dustin’s turn to go as red as his hair. “What! No, I just! What, can’t a guy appreciate another guy who gives him Italian fried goods and just so happens to look semi-okay in a cop uniform?”
Mark definitely doesn’t have a thing for cops. He doesn’t even have a thing for cop Halloween costumes (a point which he, apparently, stressed to Dustin one drunken Hallow’s Eve). Detectives, however, are not cops. Detectives are like cops on steroids. Detectives, Mark’s decided, are smart. And Mark definitely has a think for smart people. (And if they happen to wear suits all the time as part of their not-cop uniform, then hey, who’s Mark to judge?)
And anyway, there’s no need to get defensive or whatever this alien emotion is because one, Eduardo’s probably a prick and an idiot and two, he’s probably never going to see him again anyway.
“Ooh!” Dustin says, his chin fully on Mark’s shoulder now and his obnoxious hair pricking at the side of Mark’s face. “Those two went to Harvard! See, Mark? How not-legit could they be if they went to Harvard?”
Okay so Eduardo was potentially smart. So? Mark would still never seem him again, and good ridd-
“Look! Do you see that?” Dustin points to the corner of the screen where Mark keeps the news broadcasting on. “A robbery at the bank! Mark, that’s so classic crime stuff! We gotta get down there and help our new cop, err, detective buddies!”
Mark does not know what his life is.
*****
After the robbery, which was pointless and dull in Mark’s opinion seeing as the “robbers” were a couple of teenagers in ski masks armed with water guns, Dustin leaves Mark alone to go saunter over to his new obsession, Chris, the blonde detective whose name Mark only knows because Dustin’s been sighing it in his sleep. But whatever. It’s not like Mark isn’t used to being left alone except there’s the tiny fact that he’s not alone because Eduardo flashes him a smile and asks him if he wants to grab a coffee.
As Dustin walks away from him, he sees Mark shoving his hands into his hoodie - a sign that he’s giving into something he actually really wants to do but hates showing any enthusiasm so he pretends otherwise. Dustin can see the fuzzy outline of Eduardo’s ridiculous hair and smiles to himself. When he gets past the obnoxious yellow caution tape, Chris is talking to some tall puppy-faced guy whose name tag claims him as Buzz. Buzz looks appropriately horrified at whatever Chris is saying. Dustin’s skin heats just the slightest with jealousy.
Dustin slaps a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “What are we talking about, dudes?” He tries to keep his tone light, but he can feel the slightest outline of Chris’ muscles underneath his suit coat.
“I was just telling Buzz here that, in my knowledgeable opinion, your curly-headed friend would totally bottom.”
Buzz coughs awkwardly and pretends to hear his name called from the other side of the crime scene. Chris smirks at a red-faced Dustin, who’s determined not to back out from a chance to talk to Chris.
“Bottom? Isn’t that like, the gay place?”
“It’s all gay,” Chris says, “dude.” He walks away, saunters really, and Dustin lets out a low “holy shit.”
*****
“So your friend is psychic, huh?”
Mark shrugs. He really doesn’t want to talk about Dustin, not when he’s got hot caffeine coursing through his veins and Eduardo’s donning (donning? Who even is Mark anymore?) a black peacoat, the collars of it pushing his hair up and making it look even more ridiculous.
“That’s pretty amazing. I mean, it’s a real talent, you know?” Mark rolls his eyes inward. Eduardo can’t really be buying this shit, can he? Dustin could barely lie to his parents about not eating the last HoHo. No way the police department really thinks he’s psychic. Eduardo’s definitely lost some points for that.
“I guess.”
“I mean, lying like that all the time? I know I’d sure get tired of it. Or slip up.” Eduardo cracks Mark a grin as he sips his tea. Mark mentally puts back Eduardo’s points. The total’s about 163 right now, which is only mildly impressive. Erica Albright was a 114 pointer before she dumped him (effectively landing her to a solid 32) but Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were in the 300’s. Not that Mark particularly wanted to see either of them naked, but still. (Not that he wants to see Eduardo naked, of course not. It’s the coffee and the peacoat talking. Those plotting, scheming bastards.)
Eduardo’s still smiling at him over his tea. Mark shifts uncomfortably. “So, uh. I didn’t know you could work for the police if you’re not from here.” If the name wasn’t obvious, Mark was a pro at detecting dialects.
Eduardo’s smile grew, if that was possible (up to 164 now). “I didn’t know you could detach a Mark from its computer.” Mark sputtered on his coffee and Eduardo’s smile instantly disappeared. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that I always see you with your laptop and-”
“You’ve only seen me twice,” Mark feels the need to point out.
Eduardo allows himself to smile, a little, again. “That’s true. But I’d like to make it more than that, if you do.”
Now Mark was full on choking. “I’m not - um, no, that’s - uh. I have to find Dustin.” And Mark shoves his coffee and chair aside, runs out of there, tripping on his flip flops and determinedly not looking back at Eduardo, his smart peacoat, his ridiculous hair, or his quickly fading smile.
*****
“Maybe Chris doesn’t like gingers. I’ve been told that we’re an acquired taste.”
“Ew, dude, I thought I told you - no gay crisis shit.” Mark turns his head fully to Dustin now, deciding that giving him his full attention (or at least the minimum amount that comes along with holding a conversation) is better than craning his neck to see if Eduardo’s anywhere. They’d been hanging around the station on and off for a week and Mark had yet to exchange more than three words with Eduardo. He’d like to keep it that way, at least until he figures out…whatever it is he needs to figure out.
Dustin starts to flail. “I’m not having a gay crisis!” he shouts and the heads of Buzz, the chief, and yes, Chris, turn around to look scandalized, angry, and amused respectively.
“Moskovitz! I don’t care for your personal business being announced in my station, but it’s a good thing you’re here. We’ve got a situation,” the chief calls.
“I thought so, ma’am!” Dustin says, saluting her as she rolls her eyes. “My senses brought me here for that very reason.”
Mark grunts; his “senses” had brought them in the station once already that very morning. Dustin seemed to consider the Santa Barbara police station a spring of never-ending paychecks and donuts (and hot detectives, Mark unhelpfully reminds himself).
“Well good thing, too, because we’re going to need your, erm, unique talent this time especially. It seems that Parker’s back,” the chief continues.
A collection of gasps and angered cries circles around the room. Mark vaguely recognizes the name but Dustin is utterly lost. “Who’s Parker?”
“Some swindling asshole named Sean Parker,” the chief explains. “He’s left a few mildly threatening notes on occasion, attempted to take one of our own hostage, but he never really does too much damage. Mainly he likes to scare. But this time, I think he’s really serious. His notes are far too advanced for even our best code-crackers and several lives could be in question.”
“In other words, you two clowns are totally out of your league,” Chris spits.
Dustin looks slightly hurt but Mark only rolls his eyes. The name’s definitely familiar to him now and he’s seen Parker prowling around on a few of the hacking chatrooms Mark only rarely, sometimes, occasionally visits (he’s only got one friend, okay?). He talks a good game but to Mark there seems to be nothing really below the surface.
The chief frowns. “Now, Detective Hughes…”
“Hang on, Chris,” Eduardo cuts in, “I think there’s something here. We can use these guys to our advantage. Mark can handle all his technological tricks and Dustin’s got something Sean’s never seen before - we have the element of surprise on our side.” His eyes crinkle a little as he starts to smile. “I think, shit, I think we might have a shot.”
“Detective Saverin is absolutely right. Mr. Zuckerberg, we’ll get you wired in with our team, okay? And Mr. Moskovitz, Detective Hughes will debrief you on all of our past encounters with Parker. There seems to be a pattern here that’s he’s developing.”
Eduardo walks swiftly in Mark’s direction and Mark coughs. “We, uh. We haven’t agreed to take the case yet.”
Dustin makes his eyes go creepily wide. Like Bambi wide. “Mark!” he pleads. “We’ve got to stop Sam-”
“Sean.”
“Sean Parker!” He puffs his chest out and shoots a glance at Chris. “It’s up to us!”
Eduardo’s still approaching Mark and shit, he even looks hopeful. Mark can tell he’s going to give in to this guy eventually - no one’s ever really taken an interest in Mark, not the way Eduardo is doing, not since Erica, and Mark can’t deny the fact that he’d like to keep Eduardo in his house forever and maybe down the line adopt a puppy with him and holy hell what is happening? Mark doesn’t know what’s happening so he stalls.
“Uh, yeah, who…who is this Sam-”
“Sean.”
“Sean Parker guy again?”
Chris and the chief sigh. “He breezes into town whenever he feels like causing a stir,” Buzz says helpfully.
“Yeah or whenever he feels like seeing Eduardo’s ass!” Chris laughs.
“We’ll take the case,” Mark snaps.
Dustin yelps and gives Mark one of his joint octopus-bear hugs. Eduardo laughs and almost looks like he’s going to hug Mark too but he steps back and straightens, almost like he’s remembering something and cutting himself off.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Zuckerberg,” he says to Mark, “I’ll introduce you to Christy and the team.”
****
“We’ve tried punching them in as phone numbers, addresses, latitude and longitude…nothing,” Christy, an admittedly very attractive woman points out (but not even her red lacy bra that’s peeking out from beneath her dress shirt can distract Mark from staring intently at Eduardo’s neck).
Mark studies the numbers. It’s true, they’re the right length to be any of the things Christy mentioned. But Mark recognizes a binary when he sees one. “It’s binary. You’ll need a cipher to crack it.”
“Cipher?” Eduardo asks and Mark wishes he would just leave already. Seriously, what kind of near-illegal guys is Brazil producing these days?
“Like a key. Something personal about Parker, maybe, or just something that we can punch in to get a new, longer set of numbers.”
It seems like everything Mark’s just said goes completely over Eduardo’s head. “Never mind, I’ll stay here with Christy and work on it. You, uh.” Suddenly it dawns on Mark that this may be the longest he’s ever spoken to Eduardo. It makes sense that it’d be about code. But if he’s actually going to keep his mind on code, he needs Eduardo and that nice smell he always has about him to just leave.
“Right. I’ll go out and search around, see if Parker’s left anything that could be a key around.”
Dustin shows up at that moment, peeking his bright orange head around the corner. “How’s it going in here, folks? I’ve ascertained the potential whereabouts of this Sean guy, so I’ll be accepting bows and rounds of applause until midnight tonight.”
Eduardo rolls his eyes endearingly. How is that even possible? Eye-rolling is a marketable skill of Mark’s and he’s never known it to carry an endearing quality.
“Sounds great, Dustin. Mark here was just about to crack Parker’s code!” Eduardo says excitedly, almost complimenting Mark. Huh. “Apparently he’s a wiz at it.” Eduardo winks at Mark. Huh.
“You know that’s right!” Dustin laughs and walks out.
A second later he walks right back in, his laugh having died in his throat and his face even paler. The chief’s hand is clutching his jacket tightly. “We were just informed that Parker’s taken some girl named Amelia Ritter hostage. No one leaves this room until we get some more information, got it?”
She slams the door and the room goes silent. Christy and Eduardo exchange looks before Christy turns back to her computer and Eduardo’s pulling his phone out, talking low and fast. Dustin’s eyes are incredibly big.
“Shit, dude, Mark,” he whispers. “Like. Shit just got real. I thought this was gonna be fun but what if this Amy chick dies? Oh my god, I could be responsible for somebody’s death, oh shit, shit, shit, Mark-”
“Shut up, Dustin. Go on those hacker message boards and poke around Parker’s profile, okay? We need a seven, no eight-letter key.”
Dustin nods, but he’s visibly shaking. Mark catches Eduardo’s eye and Eduardo gives him a sympathetic smile. He knows when it’s not just fun and games, coffee and donuts anymore.
****
“Found anything yet?”
“No,” Dustin says, worry coating his voice, “just some random, useless crap. Um he’s been associated with Silicon Valley, something called Napster, Harvard,” he looks over at Eduardo.
“What? I don’t know him. He definitely didn’t go to Harvard.”
“No but he’s associated with it,” Christy says. “And he does like to target you, remember, Wardo?”
“Target you?” Mark asks, his nails digging into the x key.
“Not target, geez Christy. We’ve, uh, gone out for coffee?”
“What!” Dustin shouts. “You grabbed coffee with Sean Parker? What the hell, Wardo? Fraternizing with the enemy!”
“He wasn’t the enemy then! Just an idiot kid who used to swindle people sometimes. He wasn’t dangerous then, just obnoxious. And I highly doubt he’s dangerous now. He’s either bored or he just wants something.”
“Yeah, like another date with you,” Christy smirks.
“This really isn’t time for joking, Chris.”
“Speaking of Chris…” Dustin cranes his head around, but the shades have been pulled over the windows.
“Where is he?”
“Out in the field, I guess,” Eduardo says, jealous. “Chris is an excellent networker. He can get information from anybody, even the President.”
“Huh,” Mark says, uninterested (but still feeling the need to respond to something Eduardo said, God, what is that?). “Dustin, please tell me you’ve dug a little deeper? We don’t have all the time in the world, you know.”
“I’m sorry, dude! There’s not much here! Uh, he’s from Virginia, founded something called Plaxo, just really loves to party it up in Silicon Valley.”
“That’s it. That’s what we need.” Mark starts jamming away on his keyboard, typing like lives are at stake, because, yes, they are.
“Silicon’s not eight letters,” Eduardo points out.
“No, but Stanford is. And according to Amelia Ritter’s Facebook, that’s where she went.” Mark’s already decoded half the binary as he spoke and reads the address off to Eduardo who calls the chief and they’re off.
****
“What an asshat,” Mark says, his eyes glazing over Sean Parker’s obnoxious Ramen hair as it ducks into a police car.
“Seriously. Who holds a sushi restaurant hostage and doesn’t eat the sushi?” Dustin says, his mouth full.
Eduardo’s hands come up to rest on Mark’s shoulder. “That was pretty heroic, back there, what you did.”
“Are you kidding? I typed in some words. You’re the one that knocked the door down and manhandled Sean. Uh, not that I was, uh, watching.”
“I wouldn’t mind it if you were watching,” Eduardo grins and leans down, closer.
“I wouldn’t mind if you manhandled me,” Mark admits and then promptly turns beet red.
Eduardo laughs, his mouth open and happy and so close.
“Is this the part where you kiss me?” Mark cannot believe he is saying that.
“You tell me. You’re the psychic one, remember?”
“No, I’m n-” But then Mark’s lips are too busy doing something, too busy trying to learn the coding, the texture of Eduardo’s mouth before he pulls away again. Mark isn’t sure what he’ll have to hack in Eduardo to get him to do that again, but he’s willing to spend the rest of his life working at it.
Eduardo snakes his hand into Mark’s which Mark can allow, just this once, and rolls his eyes when Dustin practically squeals at them.
“I knew it! My senses were being clouded all day from your upcoming lovey-doviness, that’s why I wasn’t much help in there, Eduardo. Otherwise you know I would’ve had your back.”
“Of course, dude,” Eduardo grins. “You gonna go check out that damsel in distress?” He nods towards Amy.
“Um, nah, I don’t think so. She…she needs some time, you know? And I’ve been meaning to-”
“Moskovitz!” Chris calls from behind the yellow caution tape. “Get your prophetic ass over here and help me with this paperwork.”
Dustin sighs audibly. “Yes, sir!”
Mark rolls his eyes as Eduardo nudges his cheek with his nose and Mark wonders at how all of this started.
Recipient: bingbulette
Prompt Number: 86
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Eduardo, Chris/Dustin
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (some mild language)
Word Count: ~4000
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): Psych AU! Dustin is a "psychic detective", pretending to solve cases with psychic abilities. His reluctant partner in crime is Mark. Together they work as freelance consultants for the Santa Barbara Police Department, where they assist Detectives Chris Hughes and Eduardo Saverin with their cases.
The Psychic Network (Possibly The World’s Lamest Title Ever)
“That’s the best you’ve got?” Dustin hisses under his breath, his arms still flapping wildly in the air.
“Yes, that’s the best I’ve got,” Mark hisses back, “considering you gave me nothing to work with and I’ve only been here fifteen minutes.” But Dustin still looks dubious and Mark really can’t afford losing the only friend he’s got so he adds: “But trust me, they’ll take the bait. How smart can they be? They’re cops.”
Dustin shrugs and continues his arm-flapping and squawking (which, paired with his bright orange hair, kind of makes him look like a parrot, Mark thinks). Mark watches as the eyes on the police force widen collectively when Dustin says something along the lines of “the spirits are directing me, they’re taking me with them…no, they’re taking us! They’re taking us…swimming? Swimming, yes! To the dock, everybody!” and Mark wonders how all of this started.
(How it started was with a phone call from Dustin at 10pm on a Wednesday night in which the words “Help! I need you to lie to the police with me!” were fatefully spoken. Dustin’s only lucky that Mark decided that this (mis)adventure sounded a lot more fun than what he was currently doing, which was trying to figure out a way to hack into the San Francisco zoo. He…has a thing for polar bears, okay?)
“Hang on, how do we know this guy’s legit?” One of the cops who’s not Eduardo (because Mark made it a point to remember which one introduced himself as Eduardo fifteen minutes ago for reasons unknown to Mark at this foggy moment) interrupts.
Dustin scoffs. “Please. I went to college for four years. And I barely studied. What do you think I was doing while I was not studying? Honing my psychic abilities, duh.”
Mark cannot believe that his friend (the only one he’s got) just said “psychic” and “duh” in the same sentence. But it made the cop who is Eduardo chuckle, the corners of his eyes all crinkly and his smile bright, so. That’s something.
“Why are you all wasting my time?” the chief, whose name is unimportant to Mark, grunts. “It’s our only lead, so let’s get down to the dock and follow it!”
Dustin thrusts his fist in the air, shouts “Huzzah!” and pulls Mark to one of the cars outdoors. “Marky, can you believe how much fun is being had by us? By us! Admit it, if you weren’t doing this near-orgasmically exciting thing right now, you’d probably be hacking into the public school system, right?”
Mark won’t glorify that with a response other than “Orgasmically is not a word.” (Though Dustin’s right - the public school system certainly needs some help and would probably be easier to hack into than the zoo.)
Dustin bounces as he drives, which paired his natural inability to maneuver an empty street, causes Mark’s unease to rise. “This is just so much fun, isn’t it so much fun? I’m having so much fun! And I think that gay cop likes me.”
“What.” Well that was…that was. That. Mark hadn’t realized that Dustin had also picked up on the gay vibes that Eduardo was sending out. Not that Mark claims to be a connoisseur of gayness but he just, you know. He appreciates another man’s dick when the occasion arises. Wait, no. That came out wrong.
“Why’d your voice get all weird? Anyway, yeah, the gay one. He kept looking at me. I could,” Dustin gives Mark a shit-eating grin, “sense it.”
Had Eduardo really been looking at Dustin that much? Also something Mark didn’t want to think about. “Whatever, man. You’re weird. This is weird. Why are we doing this?”
“Because you said the bad guys were at the dock!”
“Ugh, yes Dustin, the bad guys are at the dock. But I mean, why are you pretending to be psychic to the police department and why am I helping you? Correction: why am I doing all the work?”
“Because, Marky Mark, it’s something to do! It’s a win-win. I get to make my Dad proud - you know how he spends his retirement watching NCIS and shit - and get some much-needed cash and you get to use your brains without actually having to make a fool out of yourself-”
“Yeah, because you certainly do that part.”
“I’m choosing to ignore that. And we’ll make some new buddies. Cop buddies! One of which might be gay! And goodness knows one of us needs to get laid and, let’s face reality, we’ve struck out in the girls department one too many times. So I guess technically it’s a win-win-win-win? Think about it, Mark! Gay cop buddies! With whom we can eat donuts while we discuss House Hunters! What could be better?”
Buddies wasn’t a term Mark thought he would ever end up applying to his life. But maybe, hypothetically, it wouldn’t be so bad to be buddies with, say, Eduardo. As an example. Hypothetically.
****
A week after the lying-to-the-police incident, Dustin saunters into Mark’s room, plucks the headphones off his ears and sings, “We got paid by the po-lice! We got paid by the po-lice! The po-po gave money to us, cause we’re hot pieces of ass!”
“Us and ass don’t even rhyme, Dustin.”
“Whatever, the point still stands: it’s pay-day, baby!” He slaps the check down near Mark’s keyboard and Marks glances, and then hums appreciatively, before turning back to his hacking. Dustin leans over his shoulder, smelling faintly like calzones.
“Why’re you hacking into the Santa Barbara police station, man? We just got paid, we don’t need to hack them.”
Mark’s face goes uncharacteristically red. “I…uh, thought. That, um, you know. We should do some background checks on the cops we’re working for. Just to, you know, make sure they were legit and all.”
“Who cares if they’re legit?” Dustin says, his eyes trained on the grumpy blonde cop’s picture. “They’re hot and they give us money. Also! Calzones! Also, they’re not cops. They’re detectives. Way hotter.”
“Are you turning gay on me all of a sudden? Cause like, whatever man, I just don’t want to deal with your crises or some shit like that.”
Now it’s Dustin’s turn to go as red as his hair. “What! No, I just! What, can’t a guy appreciate another guy who gives him Italian fried goods and just so happens to look semi-okay in a cop uniform?”
Mark definitely doesn’t have a thing for cops. He doesn’t even have a thing for cop Halloween costumes (a point which he, apparently, stressed to Dustin one drunken Hallow’s Eve). Detectives, however, are not cops. Detectives are like cops on steroids. Detectives, Mark’s decided, are smart. And Mark definitely has a think for smart people. (And if they happen to wear suits all the time as part of their not-cop uniform, then hey, who’s Mark to judge?)
And anyway, there’s no need to get defensive or whatever this alien emotion is because one, Eduardo’s probably a prick and an idiot and two, he’s probably never going to see him again anyway.
“Ooh!” Dustin says, his chin fully on Mark’s shoulder now and his obnoxious hair pricking at the side of Mark’s face. “Those two went to Harvard! See, Mark? How not-legit could they be if they went to Harvard?”
Okay so Eduardo was potentially smart. So? Mark would still never seem him again, and good ridd-
“Look! Do you see that?” Dustin points to the corner of the screen where Mark keeps the news broadcasting on. “A robbery at the bank! Mark, that’s so classic crime stuff! We gotta get down there and help our new cop, err, detective buddies!”
Mark does not know what his life is.
*****
After the robbery, which was pointless and dull in Mark’s opinion seeing as the “robbers” were a couple of teenagers in ski masks armed with water guns, Dustin leaves Mark alone to go saunter over to his new obsession, Chris, the blonde detective whose name Mark only knows because Dustin’s been sighing it in his sleep. But whatever. It’s not like Mark isn’t used to being left alone except there’s the tiny fact that he’s not alone because Eduardo flashes him a smile and asks him if he wants to grab a coffee.
As Dustin walks away from him, he sees Mark shoving his hands into his hoodie - a sign that he’s giving into something he actually really wants to do but hates showing any enthusiasm so he pretends otherwise. Dustin can see the fuzzy outline of Eduardo’s ridiculous hair and smiles to himself. When he gets past the obnoxious yellow caution tape, Chris is talking to some tall puppy-faced guy whose name tag claims him as Buzz. Buzz looks appropriately horrified at whatever Chris is saying. Dustin’s skin heats just the slightest with jealousy.
Dustin slaps a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “What are we talking about, dudes?” He tries to keep his tone light, but he can feel the slightest outline of Chris’ muscles underneath his suit coat.
“I was just telling Buzz here that, in my knowledgeable opinion, your curly-headed friend would totally bottom.”
Buzz coughs awkwardly and pretends to hear his name called from the other side of the crime scene. Chris smirks at a red-faced Dustin, who’s determined not to back out from a chance to talk to Chris.
“Bottom? Isn’t that like, the gay place?”
“It’s all gay,” Chris says, “dude.” He walks away, saunters really, and Dustin lets out a low “holy shit.”
*****
“So your friend is psychic, huh?”
Mark shrugs. He really doesn’t want to talk about Dustin, not when he’s got hot caffeine coursing through his veins and Eduardo’s donning (donning? Who even is Mark anymore?) a black peacoat, the collars of it pushing his hair up and making it look even more ridiculous.
“That’s pretty amazing. I mean, it’s a real talent, you know?” Mark rolls his eyes inward. Eduardo can’t really be buying this shit, can he? Dustin could barely lie to his parents about not eating the last HoHo. No way the police department really thinks he’s psychic. Eduardo’s definitely lost some points for that.
“I guess.”
“I mean, lying like that all the time? I know I’d sure get tired of it. Or slip up.” Eduardo cracks Mark a grin as he sips his tea. Mark mentally puts back Eduardo’s points. The total’s about 163 right now, which is only mildly impressive. Erica Albright was a 114 pointer before she dumped him (effectively landing her to a solid 32) but Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were in the 300’s. Not that Mark particularly wanted to see either of them naked, but still. (Not that he wants to see Eduardo naked, of course not. It’s the coffee and the peacoat talking. Those plotting, scheming bastards.)
Eduardo’s still smiling at him over his tea. Mark shifts uncomfortably. “So, uh. I didn’t know you could work for the police if you’re not from here.” If the name wasn’t obvious, Mark was a pro at detecting dialects.
Eduardo’s smile grew, if that was possible (up to 164 now). “I didn’t know you could detach a Mark from its computer.” Mark sputtered on his coffee and Eduardo’s smile instantly disappeared. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that I always see you with your laptop and-”
“You’ve only seen me twice,” Mark feels the need to point out.
Eduardo allows himself to smile, a little, again. “That’s true. But I’d like to make it more than that, if you do.”
Now Mark was full on choking. “I’m not - um, no, that’s - uh. I have to find Dustin.” And Mark shoves his coffee and chair aside, runs out of there, tripping on his flip flops and determinedly not looking back at Eduardo, his smart peacoat, his ridiculous hair, or his quickly fading smile.
*****
“Maybe Chris doesn’t like gingers. I’ve been told that we’re an acquired taste.”
“Ew, dude, I thought I told you - no gay crisis shit.” Mark turns his head fully to Dustin now, deciding that giving him his full attention (or at least the minimum amount that comes along with holding a conversation) is better than craning his neck to see if Eduardo’s anywhere. They’d been hanging around the station on and off for a week and Mark had yet to exchange more than three words with Eduardo. He’d like to keep it that way, at least until he figures out…whatever it is he needs to figure out.
Dustin starts to flail. “I’m not having a gay crisis!” he shouts and the heads of Buzz, the chief, and yes, Chris, turn around to look scandalized, angry, and amused respectively.
“Moskovitz! I don’t care for your personal business being announced in my station, but it’s a good thing you’re here. We’ve got a situation,” the chief calls.
“I thought so, ma’am!” Dustin says, saluting her as she rolls her eyes. “My senses brought me here for that very reason.”
Mark grunts; his “senses” had brought them in the station once already that very morning. Dustin seemed to consider the Santa Barbara police station a spring of never-ending paychecks and donuts (and hot detectives, Mark unhelpfully reminds himself).
“Well good thing, too, because we’re going to need your, erm, unique talent this time especially. It seems that Parker’s back,” the chief continues.
A collection of gasps and angered cries circles around the room. Mark vaguely recognizes the name but Dustin is utterly lost. “Who’s Parker?”
“Some swindling asshole named Sean Parker,” the chief explains. “He’s left a few mildly threatening notes on occasion, attempted to take one of our own hostage, but he never really does too much damage. Mainly he likes to scare. But this time, I think he’s really serious. His notes are far too advanced for even our best code-crackers and several lives could be in question.”
“In other words, you two clowns are totally out of your league,” Chris spits.
Dustin looks slightly hurt but Mark only rolls his eyes. The name’s definitely familiar to him now and he’s seen Parker prowling around on a few of the hacking chatrooms Mark only rarely, sometimes, occasionally visits (he’s only got one friend, okay?). He talks a good game but to Mark there seems to be nothing really below the surface.
The chief frowns. “Now, Detective Hughes…”
“Hang on, Chris,” Eduardo cuts in, “I think there’s something here. We can use these guys to our advantage. Mark can handle all his technological tricks and Dustin’s got something Sean’s never seen before - we have the element of surprise on our side.” His eyes crinkle a little as he starts to smile. “I think, shit, I think we might have a shot.”
“Detective Saverin is absolutely right. Mr. Zuckerberg, we’ll get you wired in with our team, okay? And Mr. Moskovitz, Detective Hughes will debrief you on all of our past encounters with Parker. There seems to be a pattern here that’s he’s developing.”
Eduardo walks swiftly in Mark’s direction and Mark coughs. “We, uh. We haven’t agreed to take the case yet.”
Dustin makes his eyes go creepily wide. Like Bambi wide. “Mark!” he pleads. “We’ve got to stop Sam-”
“Sean.”
“Sean Parker!” He puffs his chest out and shoots a glance at Chris. “It’s up to us!”
Eduardo’s still approaching Mark and shit, he even looks hopeful. Mark can tell he’s going to give in to this guy eventually - no one’s ever really taken an interest in Mark, not the way Eduardo is doing, not since Erica, and Mark can’t deny the fact that he’d like to keep Eduardo in his house forever and maybe down the line adopt a puppy with him and holy hell what is happening? Mark doesn’t know what’s happening so he stalls.
“Uh, yeah, who…who is this Sam-”
“Sean.”
“Sean Parker guy again?”
Chris and the chief sigh. “He breezes into town whenever he feels like causing a stir,” Buzz says helpfully.
“Yeah or whenever he feels like seeing Eduardo’s ass!” Chris laughs.
“We’ll take the case,” Mark snaps.
Dustin yelps and gives Mark one of his joint octopus-bear hugs. Eduardo laughs and almost looks like he’s going to hug Mark too but he steps back and straightens, almost like he’s remembering something and cutting himself off.
“If you’ll follow me, Mr. Zuckerberg,” he says to Mark, “I’ll introduce you to Christy and the team.”
****
“We’ve tried punching them in as phone numbers, addresses, latitude and longitude…nothing,” Christy, an admittedly very attractive woman points out (but not even her red lacy bra that’s peeking out from beneath her dress shirt can distract Mark from staring intently at Eduardo’s neck).
Mark studies the numbers. It’s true, they’re the right length to be any of the things Christy mentioned. But Mark recognizes a binary when he sees one. “It’s binary. You’ll need a cipher to crack it.”
“Cipher?” Eduardo asks and Mark wishes he would just leave already. Seriously, what kind of near-illegal guys is Brazil producing these days?
“Like a key. Something personal about Parker, maybe, or just something that we can punch in to get a new, longer set of numbers.”
It seems like everything Mark’s just said goes completely over Eduardo’s head. “Never mind, I’ll stay here with Christy and work on it. You, uh.” Suddenly it dawns on Mark that this may be the longest he’s ever spoken to Eduardo. It makes sense that it’d be about code. But if he’s actually going to keep his mind on code, he needs Eduardo and that nice smell he always has about him to just leave.
“Right. I’ll go out and search around, see if Parker’s left anything that could be a key around.”
Dustin shows up at that moment, peeking his bright orange head around the corner. “How’s it going in here, folks? I’ve ascertained the potential whereabouts of this Sean guy, so I’ll be accepting bows and rounds of applause until midnight tonight.”
Eduardo rolls his eyes endearingly. How is that even possible? Eye-rolling is a marketable skill of Mark’s and he’s never known it to carry an endearing quality.
“Sounds great, Dustin. Mark here was just about to crack Parker’s code!” Eduardo says excitedly, almost complimenting Mark. Huh. “Apparently he’s a wiz at it.” Eduardo winks at Mark. Huh.
“You know that’s right!” Dustin laughs and walks out.
A second later he walks right back in, his laugh having died in his throat and his face even paler. The chief’s hand is clutching his jacket tightly. “We were just informed that Parker’s taken some girl named Amelia Ritter hostage. No one leaves this room until we get some more information, got it?”
She slams the door and the room goes silent. Christy and Eduardo exchange looks before Christy turns back to her computer and Eduardo’s pulling his phone out, talking low and fast. Dustin’s eyes are incredibly big.
“Shit, dude, Mark,” he whispers. “Like. Shit just got real. I thought this was gonna be fun but what if this Amy chick dies? Oh my god, I could be responsible for somebody’s death, oh shit, shit, shit, Mark-”
“Shut up, Dustin. Go on those hacker message boards and poke around Parker’s profile, okay? We need a seven, no eight-letter key.”
Dustin nods, but he’s visibly shaking. Mark catches Eduardo’s eye and Eduardo gives him a sympathetic smile. He knows when it’s not just fun and games, coffee and donuts anymore.
****
“Found anything yet?”
“No,” Dustin says, worry coating his voice, “just some random, useless crap. Um he’s been associated with Silicon Valley, something called Napster, Harvard,” he looks over at Eduardo.
“What? I don’t know him. He definitely didn’t go to Harvard.”
“No but he’s associated with it,” Christy says. “And he does like to target you, remember, Wardo?”
“Target you?” Mark asks, his nails digging into the x key.
“Not target, geez Christy. We’ve, uh, gone out for coffee?”
“What!” Dustin shouts. “You grabbed coffee with Sean Parker? What the hell, Wardo? Fraternizing with the enemy!”
“He wasn’t the enemy then! Just an idiot kid who used to swindle people sometimes. He wasn’t dangerous then, just obnoxious. And I highly doubt he’s dangerous now. He’s either bored or he just wants something.”
“Yeah, like another date with you,” Christy smirks.
“This really isn’t time for joking, Chris.”
“Speaking of Chris…” Dustin cranes his head around, but the shades have been pulled over the windows.
“Where is he?”
“Out in the field, I guess,” Eduardo says, jealous. “Chris is an excellent networker. He can get information from anybody, even the President.”
“Huh,” Mark says, uninterested (but still feeling the need to respond to something Eduardo said, God, what is that?). “Dustin, please tell me you’ve dug a little deeper? We don’t have all the time in the world, you know.”
“I’m sorry, dude! There’s not much here! Uh, he’s from Virginia, founded something called Plaxo, just really loves to party it up in Silicon Valley.”
“That’s it. That’s what we need.” Mark starts jamming away on his keyboard, typing like lives are at stake, because, yes, they are.
“Silicon’s not eight letters,” Eduardo points out.
“No, but Stanford is. And according to Amelia Ritter’s Facebook, that’s where she went.” Mark’s already decoded half the binary as he spoke and reads the address off to Eduardo who calls the chief and they’re off.
****
“What an asshat,” Mark says, his eyes glazing over Sean Parker’s obnoxious Ramen hair as it ducks into a police car.
“Seriously. Who holds a sushi restaurant hostage and doesn’t eat the sushi?” Dustin says, his mouth full.
Eduardo’s hands come up to rest on Mark’s shoulder. “That was pretty heroic, back there, what you did.”
“Are you kidding? I typed in some words. You’re the one that knocked the door down and manhandled Sean. Uh, not that I was, uh, watching.”
“I wouldn’t mind it if you were watching,” Eduardo grins and leans down, closer.
“I wouldn’t mind if you manhandled me,” Mark admits and then promptly turns beet red.
Eduardo laughs, his mouth open and happy and so close.
“Is this the part where you kiss me?” Mark cannot believe he is saying that.
“You tell me. You’re the psychic one, remember?”
“No, I’m n-” But then Mark’s lips are too busy doing something, too busy trying to learn the coding, the texture of Eduardo’s mouth before he pulls away again. Mark isn’t sure what he’ll have to hack in Eduardo to get him to do that again, but he’s willing to spend the rest of his life working at it.
Eduardo snakes his hand into Mark’s which Mark can allow, just this once, and rolls his eyes when Dustin practically squeals at them.
“I knew it! My senses were being clouded all day from your upcoming lovey-doviness, that’s why I wasn’t much help in there, Eduardo. Otherwise you know I would’ve had your back.”
“Of course, dude,” Eduardo grins. “You gonna go check out that damsel in distress?” He nods towards Amy.
“Um, nah, I don’t think so. She…she needs some time, you know? And I’ve been meaning to-”
“Moskovitz!” Chris calls from behind the yellow caution tape. “Get your prophetic ass over here and help me with this paperwork.”
Dustin sighs audibly. “Yes, sir!”
Mark rolls his eyes as Eduardo nudges his cheek with his nose and Mark wonders at how all of this started.