[fanfiction] the stupid things I've said before part 1

[kisforkurama]

the stupid things I've said before
Actually taking up Divya's offer to room with him and the Winklevosses is the worst choice he has ever made. Mark decides this once the room starts being a little fuzzy and he can't remember a good portion of the last few hours.

C'mon, Divya had said, room with us so we don't have to rescue you from Kirkland every time we hang out. He had smiled at Mark, the big bright one he used to charm girls, and Mark would like to say he's immune to that smile but he's really, really not. Which is really why Mark's head feels like someone stuffed a sheep into it and he can't remember anything about the last five minutes, nevermind twenty-four hours. Mark is at least 15% sure he wouldn't be this drunk if he wasn't rooming with the Winklevosses. He tips sideways onto the couch and focuses on the empty, unmarked bottle on the coffee table.

It's like the size of a small Volkswagen or something, and it has made them really, truly smashed.

Mark doesn't want to know where Tyler procured whatever unholy, burning liquid they've been drinking from the unmarked bottle, but he knows (barely) that Tyler is under the coffee table and moaning. He thinks Cameron might be bent over the toilet and Divya, who has the highest alcohol tolerance humanly possible (or who maybe just has sense and didn't drink the ungodly strong alcohol like it was water), is making coffee. The coffeemaker sounds like nails against a chalkboard to Mark's admittedly delicate senses.

He groans and covers his head with one of the pillows on the couch. Divya, the asshole, just laughs. Mentally, Mark makes a note of that and tells himself that the next time Divya's got computer problems, he's going to have to beg for it. Fucker.

The horrible, horrible coffeemaker noises stop, and there's some noises that sound like Divya pouring out coffee for all four of them (so maybe Divya's not that big of an asshole, maybe Mark's headache makes him an asshole). He'll go for Tyler first, Mark thinks, because Tyler is going to puke all over their fucking floor if Divya doesn't hand him a wastebasket and try to get some coffee in him.

Tyler makes dying animal noises, and Mark hears Divya's sharp it's your own fucking fault, here's a wastebasket. It’s too loud for Mark’s tastes, so Mark pulls the pillow closer to his ears and tries to block out everything. He's doing a pretty good job until Divya shakes Mark. Mark ignores him, which is a stupid thing to do because Divya's fingers dig into his side and it fucking hurts. Grumbling, Mark slowly pulls himself into a mostly upright position and lets Divya curl his fingers around a coffee mug.

Waiting a moment for everything to stop being hazy, Mark hears what is definitely Cameron over the toilet. Divya is mumbling something, and Mark sips at his coffee. It is, somehow, perfect. That worries Mark, somewhere deep down inside, but he tries not to think of it. Thinking about it means dealing with squishy feelings that Mark generally pretends he doesn’t have.

"Mark," Tyler slurs, and Mark tries to focus on him, "Mark, listen. We should. We should make a dating site for just, like, Harvard guys."

It sounds like Tyler wants to say more, only he turns kinda green and resumes puking for everything he's worth. Mark wraps his mind around that thought: a dating site for Harvard guys. Stupid. It's really fucking stupid.

Only . . .

Groping for his laptop, Mark opens up a document and types: UTG DACEBUUJ. Then he squints at it, erases it, and (slowly, carefully) types: THE FACEBOOK. Then he saves it and goes back to nursing his coffee. He falls asleep on the couch at some point, he guesses, because he wakes up to a blanket haphazardly tossed over him. Mark forces his eyes to focus and tries to kickstart his brain.

Static.

Mark tries for some higher brain function again and succeeds in being able to ascertain the following: the coffeemaker is on again, Tyler must have fallen asleep on the TV remote (although thankfully not on the volume control) again, and Divya is sitting in the armchair again. Also it's sunny again.

"I know you're awake," Divya says.
"No," Mark says back.
"Get the fuck up then," Divya says, "If you eat something, you'll function more like a human being."

Summoning energy, Mark manages to flip Divya the bird. He knows that it won't work, because a Divya with a purpose is a Divya who stops at nothing. There's a thirty-second pause. Then, just when Mark is beginning to feel safe, Divya rips the blanket away from Mark, who groans and tries to curl into himself. It doesn't work because Divya hates him and manhandles Mark into a sitting position. Mark glares. Divya waits. Mark glares some more. Divya still waits.

"Fine," Mark says eventually.

Deep down, Mark knows that he does it because then Divya smiles (it's the slightest upturn of his lips, but Mark has it burned to memory) and Mark will do pretty much anything to see that smile. That's not something Divya needs to know, however, and so Mark lets him think that he agrees because Divya has won and not because Mark has a horrible soft spot for him-never mind the fact that those are basically the same thing.

In the middle of food (Mark would call it breakfast, but he's pretty sure it's near noon), the previous night comes back to Mark. Or rather, the reason for the previous night comes back to Mark. He remembers Erica, remembers fighting with her over the fact that she was using him to get to Tyler (or maybe Cameron, Mark doesn't think she's that picky). He remembers being angry and semi-drunkenly exacting revenge in the form of a site to rank girls. Dustin had helped, getting Mark the algorithm to do it from one of his friends because Divya refused, and then they crashed the servers by sending the link out to . . . People. Mark grimaces and Divya seems to realize that Mark has abruptly stopped eating, because he stops too.

"Divya," Mark says slowly, "tell me I didn't crash the Harvard servers last night because I was angry at Erica Albright."
"You didn't," Divya says, not even bothering to try and make it sound like anything less than the lie it is, "crash the Harvard servers last night because you were angry at Erica Albright. Except for how you did."
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, "Why did I think that was a good idea?"
Divya shrugs, "Some people deal with breakups by sleeping around. You apparently deal with them by getting drunk and coding websites."

The worst part is that it's kind of true, and Mark has noticed that most of his major projects correspond to bad breakups. He's never really had a good breakup, but that would probably result in him coding a website too. It might mean he gets less drunk, though, which would be a vast improvement. Mark's head still feels like there's a sheep stuffed in there, only now the sheep is trying to kick its way out. It's highly unpleasant. He kind of wants to faceplant into his food, but then it'd get on his face and he'd have to wash it off because you can't suffocate yourself in hash browns. Maybe. It seems like it takes too much effort to try, anyway, so Mark just covers his eyes with a hand and tries not to hate himself too much.

"Why didn't you stop me?"
"I've made it a policy," Divya frowns, "not to intervene until after if Tyler's brought out the unmarked bottles. So the answer is really that I didn't get there in time. Although you did ask me for a ranking algorithm and I refused, I thought that would stop you."
"Dustin got his friend to give me the algorithm," Mark says, "but thanks."

Stabbing at his hash browns, Mark tries to remember the tiny, small thing that Tyler had said. It was important. No, it wasn't important. It was stupid; the idea Mark had because of the thing Tyler had said was the important thing. That's what he's trying to remember while Divya's watching him carefully. Mark frowns. Something about a dating site. A dating site . . . for Harvard guys. That's what Tyler wanted to do, although he was so drunk that Mark doubts he'd remember. It's exactly as dumb of an idea now that Mark is approaching sober as it was when Mark was drunk off his ass. Still, there was something . . . Ah. The Facebook.

"Tyler had an idea," Mark says, ignoring the way Divya is staring like it'll make Mark eat faster, "He wants to make a dating site for Harvard guys."
Divya raises an eyebrow, "What's the but? I know you. You think his idea is dumb."
"Because it is," Mark rolls his eyes, "Like the world needs another dating site. I was thinking, though: I hacked into the individual facebooks to get the pictures for FaceSmash."

Divya waits, which is what Mark likes about him. He doesn't try to make Mark get to the point faster, because he's realized that Mark will get to the point when he's given the necessary back story. His points rarely make sense without a little explanation, and Mark has learned that explaining what you were thinking is generally helpful when people don't think quite like you do. He picks at his hash browns again.

"The facebooks are a good idea, but they could be so much more if there was a single localized facebook that you could search to find people and learn more about them. Do you see what I'm saying?"
"You want to make a new Myspace," Divya says.
Mark snorts, "God no. Myspace has a horrible interface and is full of teenage idiots. I want to build a central facebook for Harvard where you can meet people. Sort of like a . . . a virtual phone book that tells people all about you if they're looking for you. Do you know what I mean?"
"No," Divya says truthfully, "but knowing you? This is a brilliant idea and you're going to do it whether I understand or not. My job is making sure that you don't drop dead before you finish it."
"And backing me," Mark says, purposefully nonchalant, "You know start-ups need money."

Some part of Mark is afraid that Divya won't do it, and he knows that there are other places he could get the money but he wants it from Divya. He wants it from someone he trusts and likes and who has connections that Mark could never hope to match. Divya considers Mark, taking a sip from his orange juice, and Mark methodically chews a mouthful of hash browns. They're helping to clear his head, and it gives him something to focus on besides Divya.

"You're going to pay me back," Divya says finally, "because I know you and I know your stupid project is probably going to make unreasonable amounts of money."
"Would I be asking you otherwise?"
Divya smiles, the one that scares people off, "No. You know better than that."

It's true and Mark doesn't know how it became that way, but he knows Divya better than he knows anyone he isn't related to. He pays attention to Divya, cataloging small facts about him away and consistently surprising the Winklevosses. They've known Divya for much longer than Mark-that’s the infuriating thing about being friends with people that outclass you in wealth and come from old money: they all know each other and have known each other for ages-and some of the things Mark remembers about Divya are things they've never learned or have learned and forgotten. Divya always just snorts and shoves at the Winklevosses and makes cracks about how it's really clear that they care about him, thanks.

Mark can't really tell if Divya finds the level of attention Mark pays to him creepy or not. It might just be that he thinks Mark pays that much attention to everyone, which is more or less true. Absorbing information he thinks is important and just remembering it is something that Mark does without thinking. He memorizes people's strengths and people's weaknesses, what people hate and what they like-anything that might prove useful if he needs to get on someone's good side or needs ammunition to make them angry and hurt.

The problem is really that Mark knows all of these little things about people, but generally he doesn't think it's worth it to go through the effort of getting someone to like him. Erica stopped being worth the effort because it became increasingly clear that she thought he was a means to an end, and if she didn't think he was worth the effort then he saw no reason to keep trying. Mark suspects that this is why he doesn't have that many friends and why people tend to think he's an asshole. He mostly thinks of it as being honest: if he doesn't think people are worth his time, he's not going to lie and pretend to be nice to them. It's an excessive use of energy that he doesn't really have to spare.

He doesn't know if Divya would ever stop being worth it, because Divya is a rare case of someone that's mostly like Mark. For the most part Divya is better at pretending to like people, because Mark guesses that's a skill that every rich kid needs to have, but Divya catalogs little things about people too. He knows their names and faces and their friends and what classes they're taking and if they have pets and whatever else they've shared with him in casual conversation. Mark knows those things too, but he never uses them to seem charming and that’s the difference. He uses the little things he knows about people as a means to an end in the same way, it’s just that his end goal isn’t usually to get someone to like him: it’s to get what he needs from someone.

If Mark tried, he knows that he could be charming like Divya is, but he prefers to be honest instead. Honesty is really all he wants out of other people, which is why Divya tends to just tell Mark flat-out if he's being a massive idiot. Tyler and Cameron are so obsessed with their gentleman's code of ethics that they think Mark and Divya are just assholes, but Mark prefers Divya's small snort and way out of your league to Tyler or Cameron's whole-hearted encouragement most of the time. They both have their place, and it isn't that Mark thinks honesty necessitates never lying. It's just that Mark thinks you should at least be honest about the fact that you're lying and let other people think of what to make of that.

"I'm probably going to need, like," Mark shrugs, picking at his hash browns again, "a thousand bucks to start with. You can draw up the whole legal loan thing if you want, but honestly? This is going to change the world, Divya. You'll see."
"I believe you," Divya says as he starts stacking the detritus of his brunch back on his tray, "but it makes me feel better to have a failsafe. You know that."
"Fine," Mark rolls his eyes, "I don't need the money soon, so we're going to negotiate before you fork it over."

Stabbing at his hash browns and shoveling them into his mouth, Mark tries to ignore the small smirk he knows Divya is currently wearing. Until he can pay Divya back, and probably even after, Mark knows that he'll essentially be indebted to Divya and Divya never forgets when people owe him things. He just catalogs them and collects on them when he needs to. Mark probably owes Divya at least two favors for this, which is nothing that Mark can't handle and is part of the reason that Mark asked Divya for the money. He wants something that he's expected to pay back because it's an investment, not a handout.

The hash browns are gone, and Mark dumps all his trash back on his tray and stands up to go dump it. Divya follows, and then they're walking back to the dorm because Mark's not even sure what day it is, but he kind of thinks it might be a weekend. Maybe. He doesn't think Divya would let him sleep through class, regardless of how many sheep were stuffed into his head, honestly, so either it's a weekend or Divya has actually done something nice.

"It's a weekend. Sunday, if you want to know what day," Divya says suddenly, breaking Mark's train of thought, "and I'm not psychic. You just got that look on your face, the one where you don't know what day it is and you're trying to puzzle it out. I thought I'd save you the effort."
"Hm," Mark glances over at Divya, "Figures. You'd never do anything this nice at your own expense."

Divya protests half-heartedly, but they both know it's true. He might pretend to be nice most of the time, but for the most part Divya puts himself first in the same way that Mark does. The only reason no one ever notices is that Divya's a lot more subtle about it, which is a skill that Mark should pick up eventually but hasn't gotten around to yet. It might make people like him more-which isn't something that Mark spends a whole lot of time thinking about, but it would be nice for people to like him.

When they're back in the suite, Divya walks over to where Tyler is still sprawled on the ground and kicks him gently. Tyler moans, and Divya kicks him again while Mark crosses the room to make a beeline for the coffeemaker. The coffee that Divya started making before he dragged Mark out for food is still warm but not exactly hot, which is fine by Mark because he tends to prefer it that way when he's drinking it at all.

"Tyler," Divya says, "Tyler, wake the fuck up. There's coffee."
"Stop kicking me," Tyler grumbles, "you asshole."
"Then get up."

Slowly, Tyler hauls himself up using the coffee table for support. He winces, and Mark used to feel sorry for him until he stopped because every time Mark said that maybe they should stop drinking before they have the world's most epic hangover, Tyler kept drinking. He brought his terrible, head-splitting headaches on himself, and there was nothing to feel sorry for. Mark does pour him a mug of coffee and bring it over to set on the coffee table, though. Erica Albright may have called him an asshole, but that doesn't mean he actually is one. He just doesn't put in the effort when people start to get on his nerves, and a lot of people get on his nerves.

"It's black," Mark says, not quite quickly enough to stop Tyler from taking a sip and making a face, "sorry."
"That's vile," Tyler says, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "How do you even drink this stuff?"

Okay, it's possible that Mark is a little bit of an asshole sometimes. The face that Tyler makes when he drinks black coffee, though? Totally worth being an asshole. Mark shrugs, because showing Tyler that he's secretly laughing at him would probably start a wrestling match Mark honestly doesn't feel up to. He likes his coffee black and warm, but not hot; Tyler likes some coffee with his cream and sugar.

"It's not my fault you don't like coffee," Mark says mildly.

It looks like Tyler is going to respond, but then Cameron tumbles into the common room and nearly faceplants. He's holding onto the arm of the couch for support, and he looks a little like a zombie even without any special-effects make-up. Both Mark and Tyler turn to look at him, and by the time he's managed to make his way to the coffee machine, Tyler's obviously forgotten what they were talking about. He shakes his head and then gets up, a little bit wobbly but not too bad, and wanders over to the fridge to pour an ungodly amount of creamer into his mug. While Mark is watching him, the couch dips down. Mark turns toward Divya.

"Is it wrong if I know how Tyler and Cameron take their coffee, but I keep giving it to them black because I think it's funny?"
"You don't actually care," Divya snorts, "but it's probably a dick move by most people's standards. You're lucky they've never noticed."
"That's why I always actually make your coffee," Mark says, taking another sip, "you'd notice, and then you'd get even."

There's a relative silence then, given that Tyler and Cameron are still clattering around with their coffee, and Mark leans back onto the couch and sips at his coffee. Divya is looking for the remote control, and Mark thinks that they really should put it on the shelf or some place that isn't on the coffee table. It tends to get knocked off and then Tyler sleeps on it and then it's nearly impossible to find the damn thing when they need it. He's absent-mindedly thinking about ways to improve remotes when Divya settles back on the couch and starts flipping through the channels. Mark tries to pay attention, but he's restless now that he's sufficiently not-hungover and feeling more like a real, functioning human being.

Finishing off the last of his coffee, Mark grabs his laptop off the coffee table and boots it up. He's just pulling up a new document to start coding when Divya settles on some terrible reality TV show. Mark can't tell them all apart, but Divya is addicted to each and every one of them. He says it's interesting to watch the hyper-reality present in so-called "real" situations and think about how something being presented as reality is ridiculously far from it. His thesis for the communications half of his double degree is on something about reality tv, so Mark ends up watching a lot of singing competitions and survival competitions and weird shows about celebrities with Divya for "research."

Personally Mark just thinks Divya wants an excuse to watch so much reality TV, but he wants an excuse to drop out of college so Mark's not faulting Divya for combining the things he actually likes to do with the things he has to do. Focusing on his laptop, Mark starts coding. He doesn't exactly have a plan for his new project, but there's no harm in playing around with possible layouts. There should probably be a banner across the top of the page, and obviously there'd need to be a picture of the person . . . Mark doesn't actually notice very much that's going on around him until Divya starts waving a hand in front of his laptop.

"Mark," Divya says, "we're going out to dinner. Save and put it away."

Mark contemplates refusing, but he's done that before and Divya's not above taking the laptop away and having Tyler or Cameron sling him over their shoulder. Deciding that complying is the safer response, Mark saves what he’s been working on and shuts down his computer. As soon as he's set it on the coffee table, Divya is pushing him into his bedroom and telling him to put on decent clothes, I know you own them. He finds a neatly folded button-up among the clothes he barely wears and some slacks, which are nowhere near as classy as the suit Divya's changed into but also not as casual as the sweatpants and hoodie he'd been wearing previously.

Once he's out of his room, Divya drags him out the door and down to some ridiculous and fancy restaurant where they don't put prices on the menu. Mark tried to explain that these places make him feel slightly uncomfortable after the first time Divya dragged him to one, but no one ever listens to him about things like money. They especially don't listen when he complains about how much dinner costs, which he stopped doing once he realized that okay. One of three was always going to pick up his tab, and he would be looking a gift horse in the mouth if he actually kicked up a huge fuss about it. He's getting used to it, so when they waltz in and get seated without a wait, Mark doesn't start to fidget. He looks at the menu instead, checking it over and trying to decide what he actually wants instead of what he thinks is cheapest-mostly because Mark's learned there is no such thing as "cheapest" in restaurants like this.

The menu is entirely in French, and both Tyler and Cameron are terrible at translating so they're constantly leaning over and asking Divya or Mark what something means. Mark's not great at French, but he knows enough about food that he's usually a pretty decent translator. Divya, on the other hand, is actually relatively fluent in French and, like, twelve other languages.

Divya is exactly the kind of person that people hate because he's pretty much a genius at everything. If Mark's being accurate, though, it would probably make more sense to say that Divya is good at seeming to be good at everything. He's not actually good at everything, which Mark knows because it's how they met. Sort of.

Technically Mark and Divya met in Mark's singular computer science class his first semester at Harvard. Divya was taking the class for his applied mathematics major, and Mark was taking it because it was either sit through programming bullshit he learned in high school or take some godawful gen-ed class he could probably test out of. He chose the programming bullshit because at least it would be easy and he could ignore most of the class in favor of programming his newest project.

Two weeks into the semester, Divya sat down next to Mark and pretty quickly figured out that Mark probably should be in a higher-level class. After the class was over, he caught up to Mark in the hallway and asked if Mark would be willing to tutor him, because everything about that class was confusing as fuck to him. Mark had shrugged and said sure, scribbling down a phone number onto Divya's hand. He hadn't expected Divya to actually call him, let alone become friends with him, but whatever. Here they are.

When the waiter comes by to take their orders, Mark orders something he thinks is rabbit for the main course and lets Divya take care of the rest of the details like usual. Tyler and Cameron are both having some kind of beef, which is typical, and Mark doesn't even know what Divya is ordering. It sounds more complicated that the typical French dish, but the waiter only smiles when he says it and then disappears.

"I always feel like ordering at this kind of restaurant is like playing Russian Roulette with my dinner. I did order rabbit, right?"
"Yes," Divya rolls his eyes, "Lapin avec Pommes Parisienne, rabbit stew with potatoes."
Mark matches Divya's eye roll, "Juste parce que je ne parle pas français comme vous-"
"-ne signifie pas que je ne parle pas elle. Je ne dis pas non."

Tyler and Cameron are doing that freaky twin thing again, which Mark takes as a sign that he and Divya should stop joking around with each other in French. The words are familiar in his mouth from the other dinners like this: Just because I don't speak French as well as you do doesn't mean I don't speak it. They should be familiar to Tyler and Cameron too, because Mark has this conversation with Divya a lot, but they're a lot of brawn and not an overwhelming amount of brain. Sure, Tyler and Cameron are smart in a conventional way but they're not brilliant in the way Divya and Mark can be.

They're visibly flawed, clearly good at rowing and a select handful of other things while being not so great at everything else, and Mark thinks they know that they're not in the same category. He would feel bad about that, but he doesn't. Having the same kind of people that pushed him into lockers in high school occasionally be recognizing his genius now is kind of nice. He's always known that he's smart, but it's nice to have it validated.

"I never said you did," Mark shrugs, taking a sip from his water glass.
"You guys have got to stop doing that," Tyler mumbles, "It's freaky."
Divya raises an eyebrow at Tyler, "I don't really think you have any right to talk. You and Cameron are always doing that freaky twin thing."
"We do not," Cameron starts.
"-do any freaky twin things," Tyler finishes.

Mark and Divya give each other a look before shaking their heads. It's no use trying to convince Cameron and Tyler that they do freaky twin shit all the time, Mark has been trying for the better part of a year and they still refuse to think there's anything abnormal about their behavior. He suspects that they don't understand that the only people who end each other sentences as frequently as they do are married couples and other twins-which isn't even taking into account their very complicated eyebrow language that Mark stopped trying to decode when Divya admitted that he didn't understand what they were saying to each other half the time either.

Dinner passes by relatively uneventfully, and just like that it's easy to forget that Erica Albright ever existed. Well, until he gets told that he has an Ad Board meeting. Divya gives him a look that says serves you right for being an idiot when he gets the notice, but both Tyler and Cameron pull some strings to get him off the hook with just a warning. He doesn't know how they did it and it's going to stay that way, because asking them will just remind them that he technically owes them a huge favor. Mark is a fan of not owing favors that he doesn't have to, and the Winklevosses are just gentlemanly enough that they'd consider it their duty if Mark accepts gracefully instead of blowing it up.

It's clear that Divya understands his tactic, but Mark honestly doesn't care. He got out of a potentially disastrous situation with the help of his friends and that's what really matters. It leaves him free to work on thefacebook, which is taking shape fairly quickly, even though he's having to work with Dustin and a couple of his other programmer friends to complete it in a timely manner.

He doesn't really notice that he's spending a significantly smaller amount of time socializing until Divya bursts into his room somewhere close to winter break and announces that they're going out.

Mark protests, but he still ends up at the stupid frat party. It's typically loud and full of tipsy or flat-out drunk undergrads, and Divya abandons Mark by the punch table when one of his friends calls him over. For a minute Mark contemplates just leaving and going back to their dorm, but Divya will find out somehow and he'll retaliate. Besides Divya told him to have fun and even if the current situation isn't exactly Mark's kind of fun, he's sure that he can find some fun somewhere.

A tall, and vaguely ethnic guy slots into the space next to Mark, red cup dangling from his fingers, and Mark turns to look at him. He looks sort-of familiar, which means anything from "he goes to Harvard" to "he sat next to me in English once" at parties like this. The guy obviously recognizes him too, if his slightly puzzled expression is anything to go by.

"Hey," the guy says after a moment, "You're Mark Zuckerberg, right? Dustin's friend. And the FaceSmash guy."

Focusing more closely on the guy's face, Mark tries to place him. It isn't like Mark is a total nobody, given the whole FaceSmash thing, but this guy has to know Dustin, which means he was probably one of Chris' friends in freshman year and . . . Ah. The one Chris had a study group with and a crush on, what was his name? It started with an e . . . Eduardo? Yes, Eduardo.

"Yeah," Mark says, "You're Eduardo, right? I think Chris introduced us, once."
"He did. I didn't think you were paying that much attention, you didn't even look up when he introduced me."

Eduardo smiles, a bright and genuine thing that lights up his whole face, and Mark can't help but compare it to Divya's tiny upturn that has to be searched for and earned. He's not sure if he likes Divya's smile better because he's impossibly in love with Divya or because Eduardo seems like the kind of person that smiles for everything and it feels cheap when the smiles are handed out so freely. Mark doesn't tell Eduardo any of this, though.

"I pay more attention than you would think," Mark shrugs, "You're the one that gave Dustin the algorithm."
"I didn't know what he was going to use it for," Eduardo says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I honestly don't mind that much. It's kind of cool to be part of something like that, even if no one knows."

In another time or a different place, Mark thinks that he could have been best friends with Eduardo instead of Divya. It wouldn’t be as smooth or easy, because Mark would destroy Eduardo from constantly asking for things-the moon, the stars, the entire sky-and Eduardo wouldn't ever say no. He'd just give and give until there was either nothing left to give or he snapped-Mark's not sure which, but he knows it would be messy. Eduardo's wildly, wildly different, and Mark could love him in all the wrong ways under different circumstances, but under these ones he’s just someone to talk to until Divya says that Mark can go home.

"You seem pretty cool," Mark says, "Why don't we know each other better?"
Eduardo shrugs, swallowing his beer, "You're friends with guys who row crew. I try not to associate with people like them too much."
"They're not that bad," Mark says, a little defensive.
Eduardo shrugs, "I'm just saying."

For all that Tyler and Cameron get on his nerves, Mark thinks that they're loyal and good for protection at the very least. They intimidated away most of the guys looking for a piece of Mark after FaceSmash, and Mark's grateful for that. He's grateful for a lot of things they do, and he might not have imagined that he'd be friends with them, but he is and that's not something he takes lightly.

"Tyler and Cameron are good guys," Mark says simply, "They stand up for what they believe in and they don't let people get pushed around when they don't deserve it. If they happen to row crew, so what? Rowing crew doesn't make you a douchebag any more than being an English major makes you Shakespeare."
"Sorry," Eduardo holds up his hands a little defensively, "I just have a lot of personal reasons for not wanting to associate with guys like them. I'm sure they're great people."

Nothing about Eduardo reads like a lie when he says it, so Mark decides that he's really not that bad of a guy. They talk some more, casually sipping at their red plastic cups filled with disgusting and cheap beer, and Mark loses track of time until Divya comes back to collect Mark and the party has died down a little.

"Having fun?"

There's something slightly dangerous about the way Divya says it that Mark can't quite place, but he figures that he might just be most of the way to drunk and reading emotions that aren’t there. Eduardo introduces himself to Divya, and Divya is as polite as he always is before he turns back to Mark and wraps his fingers around Mark's wrist.

"We should go," Divya says, "Don't you have that essay due on Monday?"

Even while drunk, Mark knows he doesn't have an essay due on Monday. Divya would have been reminding him the entire week if he had an essay due on Monday, because Divya is the only reason that Mark (barely) passes his classes. He's going to say that when Divya's fingers dig a little more tightly into his wrist. It's a warning, and Mark's not drunk enough to ignore it. He turns to Eduardo instead.

"Yeah, I really should work on that. Email me or something?"
"Sure," Eduardo says, smiling, "I'll see you around."

Once Mark's said goodbye to Eduardo, Divya starts dragging him out of the party. Mark goes without much fuss until they're on a quiet path back to their dorm. He twists away then, stopping and waiting for Divya to stop too. It takes Divya a moment to realize that Mark isn’t following him, and he's about four feet away from Mark when he does. Turning to face Mark, Divya sighs like Mark is a petulant child.

"Come on, Mark."
"No," Mark shakes his head, "Not until you tell me what that was all about back there."
Divya snorts, "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb," Mark smiles, "It doesn't suit you any more than it suits me."

The silence settles down around them, and Mark waits. Divya looks like he's just going to walk away from the conversation for a moment, but then he closes the space between the two of them until Mark can feel his breath heating the air around them. Through his hoodie, Mark can feel Divya's hands settling on his hips and he's not sure what the proper response to this situation is. He breathes in, then out, and everything is terrifyingly still for a moment. Then everything moves too fast and before Mark can really process what's about it happen, it's already happened: Divya's pressing their lips together and Mark's hands are suddenly awkward and unwieldy.

He doesn't know where to put his arms, doesn't know how to respond to Divya kissing him in the middle of a snowy Harvard path where anyone could potentially see, can't actually do much of anything besides kiss back, and then Divya's pulling away. Mark blinks a couple of times, because he feels unsteady and a little nauseous, and Divya reaches out automatically, pulling him close to keep him steady. Mark leans against Divya and focuses on his breathing. When he feels less like he might fall over or puke, Mark tangles his fingers with Divya's.

"I like you too," Mark says, carefully pronouncing each syllable, "but I'm cold."
"Well," Divya sighs, tightening his fingers around Mark's, "if you hadn't insisted on having our talk in the middle of campus, you wouldn't be cold. Come on, let's get back to the dorm."

This time Mark lets Divya drag him all the way back to the dorm. He drags Mark to their room and tries to put Mark on his own bed, but Mark sprawls over Divya's bed instead.

"I'm cold," he repeats.
"Fine," Divya says, probably not even half as annoyed as he sounds.

Shoving at Mark until Mark concedes half the bed, Divya climbs in and pulls the blankets over them. It only takes a moment for both of them to fall asleep, Mark thinks, and it feels like they've only been asleep for a moment more when Divya's supremely annoying alarm clock goes off. Without moving too much, Mark buries his face in Divya's collarbone and tries to shut the alarm clock off with his mind. It's not working very well, because the alarm clock keeps going until Mark grumbles and starts poking Divya.

"Divya. Divya. Divya. Shut off your fucking alarm clock."

Flinging out an arm, Divya gropes for the alarm clock and smacks at it a couple of times before it goes off, and the room is blessedly free of loud noises. Mark's just gotten comfortable against Divya's collarbone when Divya shoves him off and stumbles out of bed. It's annoying, but Mark settles down again. Then Divya strips all the blankets off the bed and Mark concedes that yes, it's probably time to get up.

When he finally manages to stand up and stumble into the common room, Divya's already pressing a mug of coffee into his hands. It's hotter than Mark likes, but he honestly doesn't care at that point because the coffee will wake him up and he's still in that state where he's not quite awake enough to deal with the day yet. He has class in . . . Mark looks over and squints at the analog clock on the shelf, trying to remember how to read it for a moment before he gives up and looks at the Divya instead. Divya ignores Mark's pointed stare and settles onto the couch. Mark stares at the back of Divya's head until he answers the question that Mark never actually asked out loud.

"You have class in four hours at noon," Divya says when Mark's just about to actually ask him, "and I can't believe you still don't know how to read that clock."
"Fuck you," Mark mumbles.
"Is that a promise?"

Mark can't see Divya's face when he says it, and there's a lot of annoying and pedantic things he's about to say but doesn't. Instead Mark walks around the couch and sets his coffee down on the coffee table before he turns to face Divya. Climbing onto the couch and straddling Divya, Mark touches their foreheads together.

"Yes."

The word is whispered across Divya's lips, and without pausing to think about the fact that Divya still isn't dressed and he has a class at nine, Mark presses their lips together. Divya kisses back, and then there's a loud near-faceplant that causes them both to pull away. When they turn to see who's come out of Tyler and Cameron's room, they're met with a slightly wide-eyed Cameron whose hair has seen better days. Neither of them try to make the situation look like anything less than what it actually is, both mostly waiting for Cameron to say something first. He opens his mouth and then closes it, shaking his head.

"It took you guys long enough," is what Cameron eventually says, followed by: "Is there still coffee?"
"Yeah," Mark says, casually untangling himself to grab his coffee again and settle on the couch next to Divya, "It should even be relatively hot."

Cameron mumbles his thanks, and then Divya presses a kiss to Mark's cheek before he gets up and disappears back into their room to change. It's winter enough that Mark's fairly sure no one is spending more time naked than they need to be and Divya appears to have decided that showering every-other day is sufficient hygiene. Mark can't fault him; the water heating is as old as Harvard and it occasionally gets a little testy or doesn't work at all. Also Mark only showers like twice a week, so it would be wildly hypocritical to side-eye Divya for not showering every day. Finishing off his coffee, Mark tries to decide if getting dressed and grabbing breakfast is worth it or if it's a "dig the Pop-Tarts out of his desk" kind of day. Probably the latter.

Setting his empty coffee mug with the rest of the dirty dishes that it's definitely Tyler's turn to wash, Mark slips back into the room he shares with Divya and settles at his desk, opening up his drawer and digging around for the box of Pop-Tarts he keeps there. He can feel Divya's disapproving glare from where he's pulling on his sweater, and Mark sets the box on his desk before making an obnoxious amount of noise opening the foil package, just to annoy Divya.

"I seriously don't get how you eat those," Divya says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Mark shrugs, "Mastication and then digestion."

He takes a bite of the Pop-Tart before Divya heads out of the room, and Divya rolls his eyes. Booting up his computer, Mark pulls up the code for thefacebook and starts working out some of the bugs that they really need to fix up now before they become an even larger problem. They're nowhere near done, but its taking shape and Divya's already drawn up the papers for the money he lent Mark. The whole project should have be done before the school year is out, at the very latest. Mark's shooting for launch somewhere at the beginning of next semester, even though Dustin tells him that's crazy. There's not a lot to do over Winter Break, though, and Mark plans to spend most of it in a haze of coding.

Lost in the code, Mark only makes it to his class because Divya set his alarm to go off twenty minutes before Mark is supposed to be there. He contemplates skipping, but that would only annoy Divya and probably not bode well for his grade. Sighing, Mark saves his work and then dresses quickly before grabbing his bag and double-checking to make sure he actually has his keys before he's out the door and walking to his class. It passes like all his other godawful classes, and then he grabs some lunch (contrary to popular belief, Mark knows food is important) before heading back to the dorm and getting back to coding. He has reading he should do, but it's not that difficult and he doesn't consider it that important anyway-his whole life is consumed by the monster that thefacebook is becoming. Divya drags him out at dinnertime because, like he said, his job is mostly to make sure Mark doesn't die before he finishes thefacebook.

When they get back to their room, Mark tries to head for his computer and Divya catches his wrist. Mark stops, turning to fix Divya with a confused look, and Divya tugs him closer. He kisses Mark, this one different from the other kisses-more wanting and less exploratory-before he steers Mark toward one of the beds. Getting with the program, Mark spreads out on the bed when his knees hit the edge of it. Divya hovers above him.

"Cameron and Tyler went out," Divya says, "to give us space-their words, not mine."
"Whatever," Mark says, fingers finding the hem of Divya's sweater, "You're wearing too many clothes."

Rolling his eyes, Divya starts shedding clothes and making sure they land in a neat pile beside the bed. Mark is less careful, letting clothes drop wherever his hands happen to be, and then they're both naked.

Mark takes the moment to run his hands along Divya's body, aware of how it's built like a Abercrombie & Fitch model's. Divya might not row crew like Cameron and Tyler do, but he works out regularly and it shows in the subtle definition of muscles that's usually hidden under clothing. It would make Mark self-conscious and aware of how skinny and angular he is, but he knows it doesn't matter to Divya. It's not that Mark doesn't have muscles, because he does. He fenced for years, he has muscles. They're just not well-defined or in places people generally think to see them.

His fingers stutter on Divya's hips, because Divya chooses that moment to start sucking a hickie onto Mark's neck. It'll probably be covered by his hoodies, but Mark knows better than to hope. The people he hangs out with are obnoxiously observant, and they're likely to notice. It's not that he doesn't want Divya to leave reminders of his presence, more that he's not looking forward to the conversations that come afterward.

"Are you going to do that every time?"
"What do you think?"

It's mumbled into his skin, and Mark rolls his eyes, even though Divya can't see it. When Divya's finally satisfied with the massive blemish he's made, he kisses Mark, who pulls him closer and kisses him like he's been wanting to since he first realized that yes, Divya was his best friend and yes, he really wanted to kiss Divya. Mark doesn't know when Tyler and Cameron are likely to come back, but knowing them, they'll take their time. He and Divya have all the time in the world, really.

When he can focus on them again, Mark should probably thank Cameron and Tyler. The uninterrupted time for this is appreciated, because Mark hasn't ever done any of this while entirely sober. It's not even that Divya is a guy, because Mark is definitely not as straight as people assume. It's just that the last time he fucked someone, it was Erica Albright and the only time he's ever fucked a guy was after a frat party where he was definitely on the way to drunk. It hadn't been great, but Harry chalks that up to the drunkness more than anything.

Divya digs through the bedside table while Mark lets his hands wander, shifting so he can scrape his teeth over Divya's nipple and make Divya swear and nearly fall off the bed because he's overreaching to get into the drawer. Mark catches Divya, who just glares at him before finally managing to fish a condom and lube out of the bedside table. Divya settles down on the bed and Mark shifts so he's between Divya's legs. The narrow twin beds aren't really big enough for this, but Mark's learned how to make himself small when he needs to be.

He fingers Divya slowly, mostly because they have the time and he's counting on it making Divya swear and possibly retaliate in the future. Mark knows the way he likes sex, and it's nothing approaching gentle. He prefers it fast and hard, and he knows that he'll have to drag that out of Divya until he can convince him that he's not going to break. Either way, Mark continues what he's doing until Divya's twisting and cursing at Mark, telling him to come on, you fucking asshole.

Ripping open the condom and managing to roll it on, Mark is about to ask Divya if he's okay when Divya knocks Mark flat, straddling him and then lowering himself down. His eyes squeeze shut as he rocks down, and Mark forgets how to breathe. Once Divya's settled, he rides Mark fast and hard.

Possibly Mark doesn't give Divya enough credit, because it's exactly what Mark wants and fuck is it amazing.

Mark comes first, which is fine by him because then he gets to go down on Divya, fingers sliding over spit-slick skin and tongue dragging along the underside of Divya's cock. He swallows neatly when Divya comes, a skill cultivated over too many drunken blowjobs-although the taste never actually gets better, in Mark's opinion. He settles down next to Divya then, pressing in close.

"Ugh," Divya says, "Don't fall asleep on me. Your bed isn't covered in sweat and lube, and we're going to sleep on it after we clean off."
"I don't want to move," Mark huffs, "I'm comfortable."
"Too bad," Divya shoves at Mark until Mark lets go, "I'm not."

Leaving Mark alone in the bed, Divya disappears and returns with a damp towel. He washes the worst of the grime off, and then insists Mark gets into clothes before they resettle in Mark's bed.

"Tu me fascines.," Divya says, pressing a kiss to Mark's temple, "Let's sleep."
Mark presses a kiss to Divya's cheek, "Tu me rends heureux."

< masterpost >

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