Just When I Thought I Had You Sussed Part 1
Genre: Slash, drama, romance
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo
Rating: R
Word count: 21k
Disclaimer: I own nothing. NADA.
Summary: Firstson!AU. Mark's father's just about to be voted into office and he's worried about getting to Harvard without his bodyguards getting in the way. Then he meets Eduardo Saverin.
A/N: For the winter TSN-A-THON. Go Team Albright!
Mark felt like he’d always been surrounded by protection. His father, Edward Zuckerberg, had been involved in politics his entire life and, in turn, so had Mark, his three sisters and his mother. It wasn’t a burden for a young Mark. His friends didn’t really realise the amount of power his father wielded and neither did Mark really.
Mark didn’t need protection himself, at first, but his dad always had the police on speed dial just as a precaution. That soon escalated to employing a team of men who seemed, to Mark, to never be off duty.
The politics Edward was involved in wasn’t particularly controversial but he was a fierce Democrat and not afraid to fight for his opinions or what he believed was right. That meant that he’d accumulated quite a few enemies in his time and, now he was raising a family, he decided he would need some help protecting them efficiently.
Edward was always careful to not bring his home to work or his work, home. His office was tucked away at the back of their modestly sized house and was beautifully panelled with leather-bound books sitting, redundant and idle, on the dusty bookshelves.
As a child, Mark, would love to spin around in his father’s desk chair. It was olive green leather and seemed to turn endlessly Mark used to push to its limits until his father jokily swatted him and sent him scampering off to the entrance of the impressive room. Mark loved his father’s office.
The first time Mark realised that his dad was involved in politics was at junior school when he passed a teacher talking to another about state elections and Mark heard his father’s name being brought up. He went home to ask his mother, Karen, why teachers would be interested in his father.
And so the veil of ignorance was lifted and Mark, aged seventeen, began to wonder, as he listened to his father announce his plans to about run for President - whether he’d ever be able to live a normal life again.
--
“Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?” Mark asked his mother as he threw himself onto one of the kitchen island stools. His house wasn’t particularly large. It was well decorated but that was because his parents had put a great amount of effort into decorating it to their tastes. Mark supposed they’d have to sell it if his father ever got into office.
Mark remembered watching his mother attack the floor with a sander after she had torn up the carpet. He recalled the cloud of dust that elevated up the steep staircase to his perching position at the top of the stairs and travelling up his nose and tickling his throat from the inside out.
He remembers his father painting and putting up curtains around the house, whistling along to the radio. Mark remembers the half finished jobs that became more and more frequent in direct proportion with the increased hours his father worked. Mark recalls a lot of things about his past in this house and, as his mother makes lists on the stool next to him about the year and the potential of moving and nattering on about how exciting this is and how many opportunities are going to be presented to him, Mark wonders if he’ll ever get back the father he remembered whistling along to the tinny radio in the upstairs bathroom as he scrubbed at the bath.
Mark suspects not.
His mother rubbed his back in soothing circles and he leant in for a second before pushing himself away to find his laptop. Edward had bought him one for his fourteenth birthday, sick of Mark getting sticky red-vine coloured trailed all over his Mac’s keyboard. Mark, now seventeen, has yet to move onto a new laptop. He doesn’t need something fancy - he’s spent all his pocket money on upgrading this one (which wasn’t exactly cheap when it was purchased in the first place) - it’s never about the money. That’s what his dad always said anyway.
School had never been an academic issue for Mark. Obviously he had been intellectually the perfect student - apart from occasionally getting bored waiting at the end of tests for the rest of the class to finish, and sometimes walking out of the room to continue his code in the library. His father had always impressed onto him, Liberal that he was (always said with a tone of contempt by other adults), that Mark could do whatever he wanted and Edward would always be proud of his son - purely for being his son - and the same went for Mark’s sisters; Randi, Donna and Arielle.
Mark first wanted to be a fire-fighter, then a pirate but finally he settled on computer science as his area of interest. He never felt higher, apart from actually being high, than when he was coding on a red bull binge - tapping away at the keys until his mum banged on his door and he conceded defeat eventually fell asleep at his desk, head dipping forwards like his neck was made of elastic.
Not the best position to sleep in.
--
Mark always felt comfortable being himself at home. In contrast, socially, school was not the greatest element in his life - but he felt this was balanced out with his happy family life. His detachment and effortless genius grinded on people’s nerves until he finally decided that he didn’t need to be what people wanted him to be in order to live his life; no matter how powerful your father is, it would never mean people were going to like you.
Dustin was his only friend in high school really, apart from some people in his classes whom he retained a certain level of civility. Sitting in enforced proximity with them for extended periods of time meant it would have been inefficient to anger them. Alienation was not his aim.
Dustin wasn’t ‘popular’ either, which worked well for both Mark and himself. Eating lunch, discussing programming and college courses with Dustin became the extent to Mark’s social life and it worked. Dustin was his closest friend; he understood Mark’s perl comments and didn’t react in the normal way people reacted when Mark told him about his father’s job and that - um - he might one day be the next President of the United States.
“That’s awesome, dude. YOU GOT MAC AND CHEESE FOR LUNCH? WHERE FROM?” Dustin had shouted in his face, pointing - aghast - back and forth from his tray to Mark’s as if to indicate “Look at the Mac and Cheese you have and observe the lack of it on my tray. Gimme.”
“We’re in the cafeteria, Dustin, where do you think? Is that all you have to say about my dad? Usually people glower, if their parents are Republican, or they practically carry me around and question me for hours. That is, until they realise that I’m friends with Mac and Cheese demanding morons like you.”
“You wound me, Marky Mark. I know you love me deep, deep down in that dark cavernous valley you call your heart. Your dad’s awesome but does he know where the Mac and Cheese is? DOES HE?”
And so Mark realised found the first person not to be fascinated with his dad or his proximity to becoming part of the First Family but actually, for once, caring about Mark.
--
When Mark applied to Harvard he assumed he would get in. He had no anxiety about the application, the subsequent tests, the interviews and finally the letter that dropped into their mailbox one spring morning. That is, until he began thumbing the top of the envelope like it contained state secrets. His parents were sitting at the kitchen island. It seemed to be the location where all secrets were unfolded; Karen told her children their granddad was dead at this table; when Mark or his sisters misbehaved they were told off at this table; Edward told his children that he was planning on running for the Democratic Party at this table. And now Mark’s college fate was being read. His parents looked up at their son shifting his weight from foot to foot in his flip flops (that Karen had bought for him on holiday two summers ago as a joke but which now seemed super glued to his feet), baggy denim jeans, GAP hoodie and one thick envelope in his hands.
Dustin texted him to tell him that he’d been accepted fifteen minutes before Mark’s envelope arrived and so the pressure had slightly increased. Mark sighed, if Dustin could get in so could he. He ripped open the top inch of the beige envelope before scanning the contents inside and sighing with relief once he realised they had conditioned an offer. He blinked up at their parents to see their faces. They all laughed at the same time before they ran and engulfed him in a hug. Mark attempted to wriggle out of it but they just held him tighter.
--
Mark’s dad had been on Fox News to talk about his policies and why he felt he would be a successful president. Naturally, he wasn’t shown in a great light and they cut the debate poorly so as to try and make a fool out of him. Mark’s father, luckily, didn’t often say anything that would appear out of place for his supporters but it managed to cause the Fox demographic to freak out. Mark’s dad started receiving hate mail for his liberal position on abortion, gay rights and health care. The protection surrounding the family was upped further during the summer and Mark was feeling glad that soon he’d be free.
Soon he’d be at Harvard.
--
It was summer and Dobbs Ferry was having unseasonably good weather. Mark was sweating under his hoodie whilst coding so he wrestled his arms around until it was off him and he threw it on the floor. He’d been typing all night and he felt so close to something. He didn’t know what that something was or what it was going to produce in the end but that’s what was so addictive about coding. The creation. His own creation.
He’d been waiting for a postcard from his mother, who had gone Paris for a week on work, since her phone call a couple of days previously telling him to check the mail with that motherly tone in her voice. He missed her - she was the one to check in on him when his coding got out of hand (usually when he felt he had mad a socially destructive (as if there was anything to destroy) decision) - and the one to rehydrate and fuel him after he felt he had regained some control.
Hearing the sound of the gravel crunch under the postman Mark leapt from his chair and jumped down the stairs to check to see if his postcard had arrived yet. Once he got to the front garden he looked in their mail box and saw letters, his postcard and a package. He wandered back into his house scanning the postcard before noticing that the package had his name on it and stared down at it in curiosity. It was weighty and he tried to remember if he had ordered anything recently. He walked to his dad’s office to drop of his mail.
“Hey dad, did you order something?” Mark asked as he indicated to the package wondering if they had got the name wrong or something. Mistakes happened.
“No, but if you order tuna cans in bulk again your mum won’t be very happy and laugh it off like last time. Nutrition is important,” Edward laughed.
“Har har. No - it’s weird. Do you think it’s from mum?” He shook the package and it beeped. Their eyes snapped together before a slow succession of beeps begun and Edward’s brain got in gear, grabbed the package and dialled his phone for his security team and explained the situation. Within thirty seconds there were three heavy armed men standing in Edward’s office, having taken away the package and moving it out to the garden to be dealt with professionals who were on their way, and were asking Mark questions.
“Did you see who delivered it, Mr Zuckerberg?”
“No, I’ve told you, the only person I saw going to our mail box was the postman.”
“We can corroborate that with the CCTV.”
“Yes, you can.” Mark bit out. He didn’t really know how to feel. No one had ever cared enough about his father’s job before to get angry and try and attack his family before. To post his seventeen year old son a bomb or whatever that contraption was. Mark ran up the stairs, ignoring his father calling his name, and sunk into his code.
Sometimes he really hated his dad’s job.
--
Sometimes he really hated his dad.
“Mark. Mark. Just listen to me, ok? Just for a few minutes. You’re not going to be getting out of this anytime soon so just hear me out?” Mark shrugged his father’s hand off his shoulder as it tried to push him to sit down and his mother sat down next to him but kept her distance. He curled into himself further.
“There was an attempt on your life and I will never let anyone jeopardise something as valuable as that. I realise my job is high profile and, according to the poll results, it might get even higher in November.” Edward sighed, “I love you, Mark. Your mother loves you so, god dammit, just accept the protection we’re implementing. You knew you would need a certain level of protection at Harvard…”
“Yeah, and there I went thinking all it was going to be was a quick screening of my friends and making sure my roommates weren’t neo-Nazis. How stupid of me!” Mark interrupted.
“Yes, how stupid of you. You could be the son of the President by the end of this year - can you please just remember that there is ransom insurance over everyone in this family’s head and for good reason. Get your head out of your ass and realise that this is the real world. We’re not going to stop you coding. We’re not going to control your calls or how much sex you do or do not get,” Mark blushed, “We just want you to be safe and having a team of bodyguards on hand, ready if you need them as recent proceedings have shown,”
“Living right next door. That’s all? I won’t have men in bushes watching my every move?” Mark narrowed his eyes.
“Just living right next door.” His father confirmed. He smacked him around the head and ruffled his curls before bringing him into a hug. He let go and left the room. His mother stood behind him and kissed the top of his head like she used to when he was a child.
“We just don’t want to lose you.” She whispered into his hair.
“What about the girls?” He said quietly.
“They will be under the same protection if they choose to go to university.”
“There are too many variables for you to be safe without this protection, Mark.” She said sadly. Mark nodded in sullen agreement before realising how soon he was now to going to university - to leave the people who he loved and the home that they could easily be leaving in just a few months after that.
Life was moving so fast. But he was still going to Harvard, whatever the security detail they assigned, and he was going to love it. Even if Dustin had managed to get him to pinky swear that they would be roommates.
He didn’t just want to be the ‘son of the President’ he wanted to make something of himself.
--
Boston was cold and wet and bustling when Mark arrived early in September. Dragging his suitcase behind him (the rest of his stuff was being carried by the two burly men standing either side of him). He wanted to fit in at college - his social life hadn’t exactly been successful at high school but with bodyguards following your every move and probably telling his dad everything he did, Mark wasn’t encouraged that his social life was going to improve much at university. Let alone getting any.
“Hey, Mark! Mark!” Mark turned his head to see red hair barrelling towards him, head first. Ah, Dustin. He prepared himself to dodge the human cannonball of energy like usual before the man to his right (clipped blonde hair, at least seven inches taller than Mark and had arms like hams. Mark was told his name was Lars, which seemed fitting) stepped out before his friend and pushed Dustin back - a flat palm to his chest - paused, before letting him past to talk to Mark. So this was how it was going to go, Mark thought and glared at the bodyguard. His life wasn’t going to be in danger 24/7 even from red headed dim-wits like Dustin.
“Hey, man, what’s up with the ammo?” Dustin gestured to the men now surveying the quad like he was a spy in Red Square during the Cold War.
“Don’t ask.” Mark sighed before continuing to walk to his dorm room with Dustin skipping along beside him chattering about courses and the professors he’d emailed over summer and how much fun this year was going to be.
Mark smiled briefly before digging into his pocket to bring out the key to Kirkland’s front door and pushed through making sure that Dustin was still following behind him. Lars and his fellow bodyguard, Sergei, were staying in the room next door but he didn’t bother to engage further than to shake their hands on introduction.
“There are so many girls here, dude. Girls who might understand our geek chic humour!” Dustin called out in the hallway outside their room. Mark turned and raised an eyebrow at him before pushing into their room. Lars and Sergei entered the dorm room next to them.
Two men were standing in the middle of their living room introducing themselves. One was a dusty blonde about Dustin’s height and looked incredibly organised and slightly flustered. The other was a little chubby with brown hair and looked about the same level of socially conscious as Mark.
“Roommates? Hurrah!” Dustin called from behind him and pushed past Mark to shake hands with the blond, introduced as Chris Hughes, and the brunet, Billy Olsen.
“That’s Mark Zuckerberg,” Dustin thumbed in the general direction of Mark who nodded in greeting to the two guys, “Yes, his dad is Edward Zuckerberg, yes, Mark has bodyguards - which, by the way, is awesome - but that doesn’t mean he can’t be an antisocial jerk? Ey, Mark?” Dustin called behind him but Mark had already moved to take the room on the far right of the entrance. Mark shut the door behind him and sat down on the bed and opened his laptop lid. He didn’t feel like socialising just yet.
--
Mark didn’t surface until around eight when he heard Dustin squealing shrilly from the living room - not even his sound-drowning headphones could block out Dustin.
“What’s going on out here?” He said leaning against the doorframe of his room. The living room was still fairly clean at this stage, Mark was surprised to notice. Dustin had had an entire afternoon; that was usually enough time to wreck havoc on a clean room - although Mark wasn’t one to comment. Chris was sitting on the sofa reading some wordy hardback and didn’t acknowledge Dustin bouncing all over Billy as he attempted to plug in his new Xbox (apparently given as a getting-into-Harvard present from his parents).
“Seriously, man, you’ll never beat me. I am the king of all kings at this game. I wear a crown made from game discs and controller wires,” He turned around to notice Mark, “Mark, where is my Xbox crown?”
“Shut up, Dustin.” Mark fell down on the sofa next to Chris who immediately poked him hard in the arm and grinned at him.
“Hey, I’m such a huge fan of your dad. He’s awesome - working for gay rights and marriage and wanting to sort out health care finally? He’s totally got my vote! Billy and I were talking about it earlier - it’s great that we’re your roommates.” Chris grinned at him and Mark tried to look encouraging, “You want Chinese for dinner?” Chris asked before placing a bookmark in his book.
“Sure. Um. Thanks.” Mark replied.
“Bravo, Marky Mark - first expression of gratitude! Soon you’ll be a big boy and move onto words with more than two syllables!” Dustin clutched his hands to his chest and sighed deeply as if to look proud of Mark who simply flipped him off.
“Warriors, prepare yourselves; the battle has commenced!” Billy called out and Mark put a pillow over his face and tried to block out the cries of glory from his two roommates until Chris returned with food.
Classes began tomorrow and he wanted to actually go to them without feeling angry but already he was starting to lose some of that despondency he had when he first arrived, even if he had yet to escape some of the shadow his dad’s popularity had shaded him.
--
Mark hated coffee. He used to sneer whenever he was offered some by Dustin or his parents and that’s why, when he needed a caffeine fix, he’d always turn to his trusty red bull. It kept him awake at all times of the day, and night, and meant he was able to work with complete concentration and it worked with his metabolism to make sure the red vines and constant stationary position didn’t mean he’d put on weight. Not that he cared about how he looked.
First day of classes, dressed in favourite hoodie, cargo shorts and Adidas flip flops, and he was already lost. His bodyguards were unfamiliar with the campus and so they decided to ask around for help getting to the CS lab that his first class was in which, conveniently, had had a room change on day #1. Nice job, management.
He ran over to the café a little way over the quad and picked up a red bull but as he reached for it he bumped straight into a man trying to get to the Paninis on sale. The condensation on the can was slippery and it slid from his hand.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Here let me.” The man bent down to pick up the can just as Mark tried to bend too. This resulted in their faces getting dangerously close to one another’s on first meeting. Mark assumed anyway, he wasn’t used to normal social interactions and Dustin always got too close to his face.
He swallowed, straightened and took the can back from the guy. Noticing Lars and Sergei standing at the front of the café he sighed slightly and tried to indicate that he was fine and he didn’t think this was an attempt on his life.
“It’s ok. It was an accident. Why are you apologising?” Mark asked with a clipped tone.
The man laughed, “I’m Eduardo Saverin, it’s nice to meet you…?”
“Mark. Mark Zuckerberg.” Mark looked away preparing for the onslaught of compliments or insults that usually followed once people realised who he was related to. His surname was unusual enough for people to pick up on it fairly swiftly - unless they were totally politically illiterate.
“Mark,” Eduardo smiled and paused briefly, “I don’t suppose you’ve got Professor Green for Economics next, have you?” Eduardo asked. He really was very attractive, Mark thought. He was about four inches taller than Mark but he was as slight with deep brown eyes and ridiculous hair that Mark new would take a significant amount of effort to maintain. His black suit was pressed and the fact that he was wearing cufflinks immediately led Mark to conclusion that Eduardo was a Business major of some sort. Eduardo was also, quite obviously, not a freshman like Mark.
“No. Sorry. Do you know where CS4 is?”
They completed their purchases still talking about the layout of the campus and their time so far. Mark was smiling shyly as they exited the café.
“So, I’ll call you for a beer and a pizza sometime, if you want?” Eduardo asked.
“Yes. Although I don’t think you’d want to meet my roommates” Mark smirked and Eduardo brushed his hand against Mark’s shoulder before their eyes met and dropping it quickly.
“How do you know?” Eduardo asked with a matching smirk, “See you ‘round, Mark.” He walked backwards for a while before waving stupidly at Mark before turning around and walking towards his class.
Mark watched him go for a second before Lars tapped him on the shoulder, “Sir, you’re going to be late for class.”
“Right.” Mark shook himself slightly and remembered the way Eduardo had told him and found his classroom just in time. Sipping his red-bull and getting out his laptop he had a small smile on his face. He just hoped Dustin wasn’t in this class so no one would call him out on it.
--
“Oh my god, what is wrong with your face?!” Dustin shouted from his position on one of the arm chairs in their living room before pushing his laptop off and running to Mark and running his hands all over his face.
“Get off, Dustin! Nothing is wrong with my face!” Mark said haughtily and pried Dustin’s hands from pressing into his face.
“I think the question we all want to know,” He used a sweeping motion as if to include the empty room in that question, “is if you got off.”
“Shut up, Dustin! I did not. I’ve had classes all morning!”
“It’s possible!”
“I am leaving the room now, Dustin.”
“SOMETHING IS GOING ON WITH YOUR FACE. Chris, Billy and I will join forces and worm it out of you, Zuckerberg! Mark my words!”
Mark slammed his door before opening it again.
“Did you just threateningly quote Filch?”
“Is there any other way to quote him?!” And Dustin threw a pillow square in his face, “Go sort your face out!”
--
Eduardo soon became a fixture in Mark’s life. He never acknowledged Mark’s dad as anything but Mark’s dad. He walked Mark to his classes (with Lars and Sergei trailing behind), made sure he was drinking enough water and eating more than tuna and ramen noodles for dinner. He made sure Mark’s clothes were not worn for more than a few days without getting washed. And he was making Mark feel oddly comfortable when he was around him.
Dustin was snoring on the armchair in the corner after a session of thrashing Billy on Mario Kart and Billy - defeated - and Chris had gone to bed already, which left Mark and Eduardo sitting definitely too close on the sofa for friends. Or that’s what Mark hoped.
They were watching the last half of Fight Club (Dustin’s insistence on watching it - before promptly falling asleep - on as Eduardo had announced at the start of the night that he’d never seen it before) and Eduardo had, at some point in the night, stretched his arm out over Mark’s shoulders. At first Mark assumed it was a ‘bro thing’ but now they were pressed shoulder to thigh and Eduardo’s right index finger was drawing circles on the bare skin of Mark’s right shoulder where his t shirt had ridden up. He wasn’t so sure this was a ‘bro thing’.
He looked over at Eduardo who seemed to be enjoying the film, a small smile playing on his face. He’d taken off his jacket when he had come into the dorm room and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed back to reveal tanned and strong forearms. Mark sucked in a sharp breath. He usually hated it when anyone touched him, but having Eduardo so close to him, to be able to smell his spicy and familiar cologne that Mark immediately recognised after having basically lived with each other for over a month, he finally understood what all the fuss was about. About wanting to be touched.
When he breathed out he realised that Eduardo was looking back at him to and - oh - their faces were as close together as they were when they had first met. Eduardo’s eyes flickered all over his face; it felt like their path was tracing white hot lazars, before closing his eyes and removing his arm from behind Mark and pushing up on his legs and grabbing his jacket from the armchair that Dustin was still snoring on.
“Night, Mark.” He murmured before shutting the door behind him.
Mark sat still on the sofa. What the hell had just happened?
--
Mark could quite happily have a conversation with someone as long as he respected them and that’s how he found himself talking to Erica. Eduardo had introduced them at some frat party he forced Mark to go to with him having just finished a thirty-six hour coding spree. He’d stuck under Eduardo’s arm virtually the entire night; the more and more he drunk, the more he clutched at Eduardo’s Hawaiian printed shirt (Mark had been told it was a fancy dress party but he didn’t see many proper outfits) - laughing every time he loosened his grip and saw the crumpled material beneath his fingers. Eduardo looked down at him every so often with a fond smile before looking back up and talking to his friends.
Mark didn’t think he was attracted to Eduardo in that way. He just liked the way Eduardo’s lips moved when he spoke about the weather or economics or Keynes, and how his cheeks blushed whenever Mark caught his eye. They were just friends.
Eduardo was a couple of years older than Mark - he was twenty-one (apparently he took a couple of years off when he was eighteen so he could travel. Something Mark would have considered the worst idea on earth and he told Eduardo this with a grin on his face and Eduardo proceeded to tell him about his trips) and so he was able to buy alcohol from the shop in town - which gained them entry to the party. It was all a very clichéd teenage experience.
Erica was there because she was roommates with one of Eduardo’s friends and Mark had quickly found himself on a sofa discussing colleges and poker (“I bet I’d beat you.” “I’d like to see you try.”) before Eduardo had come over and moulded Mark up against him. Mark smiled lazily up at Eduardo before turning back to Erica.
Erica made a little ‘Oh’ face at Eduardo and Mark who looked at her quizzically. She grabbed a napkin off the table and wrote her number down on it.
“Just in case you need to improve your poker skills.” She laughed before giving the napkin to Mark and winking.
--
“I think I’m quite drunk,” Mark giggled against Eduardo’s chest. He may have felt long fingers brush through his hair before thumbing the curls at the bottom of his neck and cupping his head but he cannot confirm as he was very, very drunk.
They were stumbling back to Eduardo’s single because Mark’s roommates wouldn’t take kindly to his thumping around at this time of night. At least he didn’t have class till tomorrow afternoon so he could sleep it off tomorrow morning. He didn’t feel tired at all, although his eyelids kept dipping. If he grabbed Eduardo’s hand and laced their fingers together he cannot confirm as he was very, very drunk. Eduardo laughed loudly but didn’t let go.
Eduardo was fumbling with his keys to his room - it isn’t very easy to open a door with only one hand free, Eduardo said - before finally pushing his way into the room and dragging Mark with him.
“Wardo, Wardo. Wardo.” Mark said as he tried to get Eduardo’s attention because he was texting and Mark was still holding his hand and Mark wanted Eduardo to look at him. He pulled Eduardo up close to him. Eduardo met his eyes and quickly pocketed his phone and looked down at Mark who brought his free hand up to Eduardo’s face to trace the faint lines on his face.
“Ma-Mark?” Eduardo stuttered.
“Sometimes I think you’re the most beautiful thing, Wardo.” Mark whispered so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it himself but from the shuddery breath Eduardo took in he assumed Wardo heard it.
“Let’s get you to bed, Mark.” Eduardo took a step back and dragged Mark into his bedroom before pushing him down on the bed and tugging the duvet over him.
“Where are you going to sleep, Wardo?” Mark asked as he rolled around in the bed. The sheets were cold against his legs but once he thrashed them around a bit he felt more content and laid back once more. He bit his lip and looked at Eduardo.
“I’ll take the sofa, Mark.” Eduardo murmured softly.
“Wardo, I got a girl’s number tonight.” Mark said proudly, eye’s shut. Eduardo didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he patted Mark softly on the arm.
“Yeah, you did, Mark.” He felt the weight on the bed lift and Mark fell asleep straight away.
--
“So you’ll be home in November then, Mark, for the pre-election shizzle and the dinner?” His father called the next week.
“Did you just say shizzle? Oh good god, how are you going to be a responsible president with that word in your vocabulary? Yes, dad, but tell mum I’m not wearing the crappy grey suit.” He shuddered.
“I’ll be a fabulous president thanks. Yes, fabulous. I can hear you rolling your eyes, Mark. Of course. We wouldn’t want you looking half-way smart or anything.” His father laughed.
“You’re incorrigible. I’ll wear the black one if I really have to.”
“Mark you can’t come to a pre-election swanky dinner in your hoodie if that’s what you’re hoping for. We’ll sort something out.”
“Sure, dad. Do you think I bring a friend this year?” Mark usually didn’t bring anyone to posh dinners like this. In high school he considered asking if Dustin could come just so he wouldn’t have to talk solely to his parent’s friends but he feared the reaction of Dustin seeing him in a suit.
There would be photographic evidence and Mark knew that it looked more like the suit was wearing him, rather than the other way round.
“Of course. Lars and Sergei have met this person, I assume?”
“Yes. He’s had the checks. So he can come?”
“Of course. Just tell him to bring a suit and we’ll fly you both over on the 2nd.” Mark could hear his dad smiling before gasping comically, “Oh god, it’s not Dustin is it?”
“No. Don’t worry. He’s very respectable. He’s Brazilian and proper. He’s a good friend.” Mark smiled slightly and laughed.
“Ah,” There was a pause, “Good, ok we’ll see you then! Your mother and I send our love. Work hard and stay safe!”
--
“So did you ever ring Erica then?” Eduardo asked during lunch in the café on campus.
“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s going to go anywhere apart from the occasional poker game.” Mark laughed and poked at the limp salad Eduardo had placed on his tray.
“Oh?” Eduardo’s head snapped up to look at him with a glint of something in his eye that Mark couldn’t quite discern. “That’s sad.”
“Why? I’ve made another friend. This works well for me.” Mark shrugged and took a gulp of his red-bull.
“I thought. I thought maybe you two would want to, I don’t know, date?” Mark looked over at Lars and Sergei standing at the door watching him and making sure there was no danger.
“I don’t think Thing 1 and Thing 2 will ever allow me to date successfully.” He laughed, pointing his fork over Wardo’s shoulder at the bodyguards. Eduardo laughed with him before looking down at his tray with a sad little smile on his face, “If you want to date her, Wardo, that’s fine with me. Actually, I can give you her number if you want?” Mark started shuffling around in his bag for his phone, ignoring the feeling of his chest squeezing that he’d been experiencing recently.
“No! Mark, no! I’m good thanks.” Mark shrugged at this before looking back up at Eduardo.
“Do you want to come to the pre-election dinner with me?” Mark asked.
Eduardo coughed and took a quick sip of water, “What?” He croaked with a shocked expression.
“I’ve wanted to take a friend for years but, obviously, taking Dustin would have not been a viable option but now I’m asking you.” Mark shrugged.
“Yeah. You are.” Eduardo sighed and looked out of the window to his left.
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I mean, I’d like you to come but I understand that not everyone would enjoy those things. I don’t enjoy them much. That’s why I’m inviting you.”
“You think you would enjoy it more if I were there?”
“Yes.” Mark nodded decisively.
There was a pause before Eduardo went pink and smiled.
“I’d love to come.”
--
There had not been many incidents of Mark actually needing his bodyguards. There was the one time he’d walked through the quad during a small political anti-Right protest and he’d gotten pulled into the crowd with people cheering and asking questions as if Mark was his father. He’d panicked but Lars had pulled him out just before he broke down completely.
Another time was when Wardo had invited him and Dustin to a pool party at the local AC that his friend was organising - some stupidly good-looking girl called Christy who Mark hated on sight. Eduardo and Christy looked disgustingly good together. Mark had already been accosted about questions about his dad and politics and his position on Occupy Wall St hundreds of times before they’d even gotten into the water and so he hadn’t been able to talk to Wardo at the party yet which angered Mark further. At least he had brought Dustin along.
Mark had become distracted from answering a question from an indie guy when he saw Christy place her hand on Eduardo’s forearm and it left like a lead weight had settled in Mark’s stomach. Mark was supposed to be Wardo’s focus at this party - why else had he invited Mark? He was becoming too used to Wardo’s attention.
Lars and Sergei looked distinctly out of place standing, suited up, at the side of the pool and Mark felt exactly the same in his swimming shorts. Wardo looked odd as well without his pressed dress shirt on. Instead he was dressed in black shorts that finished just above his knees.
Mark disliked getting out of his dorm room at the best of times but Wardo had promised fun and look where it had gotten Mark. Dustin was busy dunking himself in the pool and Mark was less busy sitting awkwardly on the side of the pool kicking water at his friend. He felt like kicking water at Eduardo right now as Wardo threw his head back in laughter at something Christy said. Mark swallowed heavily trying to remove the bitter, metallic taste from his mouth.
He hated her.
Suddenly he was being pulled back off the edge of the pool and dragged back into the changing rooms by Lars whilst Sergei wrestled a jock to the floor within three seconds. The guy was holding what looked like a gun and had been pointing it in Mark’s direction. Lars checked the cubicles and nodded to indicate they were clear and positioning himself outside the door whilst talking quickly into the microphone on his wrist about asking for back up. Mark wrested his way out of his sodden shorts before he heard the pattering of feet and a voice calling out his name.
Wardo.
Eduardo threw Mark’s clothes bag over the top of Mark’s cubicle and rested his palm against the door. Mark was attempting to get changed as quickly as possible. He fumbled with his jean buttons and his hands were shaking. Why did that guy try to shoot him? How did he even get a gun into the pool?
“Mark? It’s ok. It was just a water gun!” Eduardo said as he knocked on the door lightly. Mark’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking but he laughed quietly. This was now his life. Petrified of a water gun.
He opened the door - still without his shirt on but he really couldn’t care less at this stage.
“Seriously? Sergei just knocked some guy out over a water gun? Christ.” Mark shook his head and rubbed his chest self-consciously. Eduardo laughed but his eyes looked a lot darker as he looked at Mark. Probably because of Christy, Mark thought.
“Come here.” Eduardo said and Mark was pulled into a hug. He shuddered against Eduardo’s neck as Wardo whispered you’re ok, nothing happened, everything’s fine into his hair and he hugged him tighter pressing his burning fingertips into Mark’s back.
What if it had been a real gun?
--
Mark remembered the incident as he sat on the flight to Washington for the dinner. Eduardo had asked very few questions about what would happen once they were in Washington. Lars and Eduardo seemed to get on well - Mark had seen them several times having conversations - and Mark assumed Lars had filled Wardo in on the plans. Wardo had laughed when Mark explained he saw it like it was his father’s yearly office party.
Eduardo had never mentioned his own father and so Mark had never asked any questions about him. Mark knew that Eduardo had been born in Sao Paolo before moving to Miami with his mother and father and sister when he was a child. He knew Eduardo’s mother made a fierce feijoada and his sister wanted to study medicine one day. These were the few facts Mark knew about Eduardo’s background. Eduardo rarely communicated with his family which Mark found odd but not completely bizarre. Sometimes he forgot to ring home too but his mother always punished him afterwards.
The flight wasn’t a long - only an hour - but Eduardo didn’t seem to be comfortable during the flight so Mark slipped a few fingers delicately over Eduardo’s and squeezed. Eduardo didn’t look over but turned over his palm and laced their fingers together. They didn’t let go until the plane landed.
Lars, who was sitting next to Mark, did not look very pleased when he saw Mark and Eduardo holding hands. Mark didn’t understand - he was just comforting Eduardo. Eduardo had a crush on Christy. And Mark? Well. Mark was fine on his own.
Eduardo stroked his thumb over Mark’s knuckles before letting go when the seatbelt sign on the private jet switched off. Mark’s hand tingled and his chest felt tight but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t asthmatic.
--
“Hello, boys!” Mark’s mother called out from the table in the restaurant. Mark and Eduardo were meeting Mark’s family for lunch before going back to the hotel before having a day in the city tomorrow and then the dinner.
“Hi, mum, this is Eduardo.” His mother hugged him tightly before hugging Eduardo in turn.
“It’s so nice to meet you; Mark’s told me so much about you!” Karen smiled and Mark glanced briefly at Eduardo whose cheeks were slowly turning pink. Mark turned back to his mother and laughed. Eduardo’s hair looked rumpled and stressed, standing up on its ends, where Eduardo had been pulling it before meeting Mark’s parents. Mark didn’t understand why. But he was still wearing one of his fancy suits so Mark supposed he mustn’t be completely stressing out.
“No I haven’t. Let’s get some food. Wardo hasn’t eaten since this morning.” Mark caught the look his sister Donna shot at Randi but thought nothing of it. They took their seats next to each other and Eduardo reached over and shook hands with Mark’s dad, “It’s an honour to meet you, Sir.” Wardo said genuinely before nudging Mark.
“Neither have you. I practically had to force it down you too.” The table laughed and Mark shrugged.
“Oh, are you roommates?” Donna asked Mark before fluttering her eyelashes at Eduardo. Mark glared at her. He knew Eduardo was attractive but that just wasn’t right. He was Mark’s best friend.
“No, Wardo just sometimes forgets to go back to his dorm sometimes and stays the night.” Eduardo choked before laughing shyly. Donna laughed and sent a far more pointed look at Randi. Mark really doesn’t understand his family some times.
“Mark’s got three other roommates who all make sure he eats too. I’m not the only one.” Eduardo tried to qualify, “I think I need the bathroom.” He stood quickly and strode off to the bathroom, Mark definitely did not watch him go, before Mark’s dad excuses himself too and follows Eduardo.
“What a lovely boy!” His mother exclaims before smiling widely at Mark.
“Mark obviously thinks so too.” Randi sniggered and Mark resolves to not talk to her for the rest of the trip.
--
The hotel room that Mark had been set up in was incredible. It was huge with a king sized bed, white walls with one glass window reaching ceiling to floor so he could see the view of the city outside. The en suite certainly beat his Harvard dorm room’s tiny shared bathroom. Eduardo had booked out the room next door but he followed Mark inside his hotel room. Mark turned and grinned at Eduardo who looked slightly nervous and was still leaning back against the door, pressing tightly to the wood.
Mark dramatically threw himself backwards onto the bed. Although his parents were what some could consider well off Mark and his sisters were never spoilt. Mark decided that was going to squeeze as much as he could from this trip.
“Wardo?” Mark called out from the bed. Eduardo walked slowly over to him with a pensive look on his face before perching on the edge of the bed, his back to Mark. It was late - almost eleven after a day of sight seeing and another lively family meal in a little Italian restaurant located near the hotel they were all staying in before the dinner the following night - but Mark didn’t want to go to sleep yet. He dragged his fingernails slowly up and down Eduardo’s back. Wardo shivered. They had both had a couple of glasses of wine over dinner and Mark was unusually pliant.
Mark pulled Wardo’s collar down so he would lie down next to Mark on the bed.
“Stay with me tonight?” Mark asked quietly having rolled on his side to face Wardo.
Eduardo closed his eyes, swallowed and rolled over to mirror Mark before saying shakily, “Yeah, yeah. Ok.”
--
They were sitting cross legged facing each other on the bed about four hours later, swigging from a bottle of crappy faux-Russian Vodka Eduardo had bought at great haste, after a large amount of persuasion from Mark. Two hours of questions about each other had reached a new level of oddness and Mark was feeling warm from all the alcohol and the close proximity of Wardo.
“Alright, If you were stranded on an island, how would you escape?” Eduardo asked.
“Obvious! Befriend a dolphin and hitch a ride back to land.” Mark answered with an audible ‘duh’ in his tone. Wardo spluttered a laugh and passed the bottle back to Mark.
“What the fuck, Mark?” He laughed.
“Obvious answer is obvious.” Mark waved his hand dismissively with a smirk, “Have you ever used being drunk as an excuse for doing or saying something?
“I haven’t. I could. I mean, I’ve thought of doing so before.” Wardo grabbed the bottle back from Mark and taking a large gulp.
“Really?” Mark considered, “Like what?”
“Oh you know. Stuff you shouldn’t say when you’re both sober.”
“So what would you say to me, Wardo?” Mark played with the cuff of Wardo’s loose shirt looking up at him through his eyelashes.
Wardo looked down at Mark, their faces very close together, and stared into his eyes without saying anything for a few minutes.
“Mark - We can’t - I,” Wardo bit his lip and leant forwards, contrary to his words
“Yeah?” Mark leant forwards and put his hand on Eduardo’s neck, thumb brushing against Wardo’s bottom lip. It was faintly swollen from Eduardo’s biting it and Mark couldn’t think about anything but kissing it - his head was fuzzy but he could always focus on Eduardo’s face. He’d always been so distracting, particularly while Mark was trying to work. He shuffled forwards further so he could rest his forehead against Wardo’s.
“Yeah.” Eduardo whispered back, his breath hitting Mark’s face. Mark tilted his head and brushed their noses together, “Mark.” Eduardo’s eyes fluttered shut as he muttered.
Mark had so many things he wanted to say, I want you; I’m so attracted to you; god, I need you so bad.
Eduardo sucked in a breath and Mark thought this is it; he’s going to kiss me.
“It’s late. I’d better go.” He pulled away from Mark, who swayed forwards without having Eduardo to rest against a rush of cold air brushing against his flushed face.
“Wardo?” Mark called after Wardo who was picking up his jacket and toeing on his shoes quickly.
“See you tomorrow, Mark!” And Eduardo practically ran from the room.
Mark rubbed a hand across his face roughly, flopped back against the pillows, more than half empty bottle clinking against him on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling.
“Shit.”
--
Part 2