Fic: Fortune and Men's Eyes (2/?)
MASTER POST | PART ONE
***
Mark wanted The Facebook online today, yesterday, now, but, obnoxiously, he seemed to be alone in that, as he found out later over dinner.
“He gave you the money?” Chris said, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. “Really? That’s… shit. Wow.”
“He must really like you,” Dustin observed proudly. “I take credit. My cheerleading is magic.”
“You have my everlasting gratitude,” Mark said, deadpan, and then shoveled in another mouthful of lo mein, talking around it. “Now, I figure we can start getting the servers set up tomorrow, and online by tomorrow night. Then we can start running the code and looking for dropped lines, and-”
“Down, boy,” Dustin snorted. “Mark, I know you’re all fuzzy-headed with love and excitement and stuff, so it may have escaped your mind, and I understand that, but it is actually finals week. Chris has a color-coded study schedule. Chris made me a color-coded study schedule.” He pointed towards the fridge. “The blue is for sleep. Notice how little blue there is?”
“What’s your point?” Mark asked sulkily. “This is more important than-”
“So help me, if you finish that sentence, I will stab you with this,” Chris said mildly, gesturing with his chopstick. “Mark, look. I know this is going to be big. But you need some perspective. Maybe you can abandon all your classes and make Facebook your thing, but the rest of us have to graduate, okay? We can order the hardware online and have it delivered. That’ll give us a couple days free before your inevitable descent into madness.”
Mark’s phone went off across the room before he could form a rebuttal. When Mark got up to check it, there were three missed texts from Eduardo.
are you eating? if the company goes under when the ceo starves to death i’ll lose my investment :(
Followed shortly thereafter with, seriously mark don’t spend all night coding, your exam’s at 8
And then: let me know if you want coffee b4 it starts, i can bring you some :)
“Ugh,” Mark said, temporarily defeated. “I hate you all.”
Dustin perked up. “Is that your sugar daddy? Is he sending you sweet sexts of romance?”
Mark felt his spine stiffen and he tried to force his muscles to unknot. He didn’t want to think about this right now. “He’s not-no. He’s not interested like that. We’re friends,” Mark said coolly, tilting his chin up. “And business partners. That’s all.”
“Huh,” Dustin said after a moment. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Mark said, and something in his voice must have communicated his strong desire for Dustin to fucking drop it, because Dustin fell blessedly silent.
“Okay, feeding time is over. On to flashcards!” Chris said brightly after a long awkward pause, and for a moment Mark really, truly hated his life.
Then he remembered the check in his wallet.
Things could definitely be worse.
***
Mark got a panicked text at 4:19 in the morning, just as he was finishing up the last of his Calc problem sets.
oh god. as a favor to me, pleas do not steal the answer keys for your exams
Mark snorted, then winced and eyed Chris and Dustin, who were finally asleep in a sea of flashcards. They didn’t wake up, so he carefully closed his Calculus text book and tiptoed to his room.
He might have considered sending them to actual beds, but he wasn’t feeling especially charitable towards them at the moment.
Dustin had just been annoying, a constant background hum of ‘study songs’ because apparently he learned better when he sang himself his notes. That was bad enough. But then around midnight, Chris had had some sort of psychotic break, probably induced by all the fucking highlighter fumes he’d inhaled over the last couple days, and he’d started yelling about how Mark’d skipped all those classes and if he didn’t learn how to do Calculus now, he never would, and then he’d fail out of Harvard and his life would be over and he’d wind up on the street selling his body for Red Vines. It went on and on, and finally Mark had handed over his laptop and opened his textbook just to make him shut up.
But now the fucker was asleep, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
What do I get if I don’t? he texted back with one hand, opening his computer smugly and fighting a yawn. He really wanted a Red Bull, but opening the fridge would undoubtedly wake up the study duo. Then there would be panicking and brandishing of color-codes and really, Mark was just being thoughtful. They both needed rest.
jesus, Mark, i didnt think youd still be awake. go to sleep and then that’s not how favors work. Followed almost immediately by, what do you need?
Mark huffed out a quiet laugh, more air than sound. You’re awake. You go to sleep. And I don’t need anything but for the banks to open earlier. And maybe a Red Bull
i wish. i’m finishing an essay. can’t do anything about the banks but can send someone with redbull
Mark blinked. Well. That was... Not necessary. I have some in the kitchen right now, I just don’t want to wake up the roommates. Nothing you can do about that. He bit his lip, then added, But thank you for the offer. I won’t steal the exams.
:) good luck tomorrow
Mark stared down at the pixel smile. Eduardo was always smiling at him, beaming at Mark across the street, or in the library, or whenever he saw him-like just seeing Mark made him happy. He was probably smiling right now, just because Mark had said he’d do what he’d asked.
He wondered where Eduardo was, if he was at the library or in his own dorm, curled up with a laptop. He seemed like the sort to have actual, formal pajamas, the kind with stripes and buttons, not just a t-shirt and boxers like Mark.
And fuck if that didn’t lead his brain down paths it really, really shouldn’t go. Sleepy, rumpled Wardo, tousled hair and hooded eyes, and that smile. And okay, maybe that had been the path he’d been on the whole time, but he couldn’t help it. Once Mark started something, he saw it through, and he just-he wanted.
He typed, wardo look what i need, what i really need is for you to tell me whatever it is you think you have to tell me so we-
Except no. There wasn’t anything to tell him. Just excuses. Eduardo didn’t want this, or he’d have said. Mark’s brain needed to get with the fucking program. Get onboard the good ship friendship, or whatever. Eduardo was a good friend, and he’d be a great business partner, and Mark needed for once in his life to let something go, despite all of his stupid, clamoring instincts.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
You too, he sent, then turned back to his laptop.
He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, but he could work on The Facebook. There was still that.
***
The next morning, Chris found him at his desk and apologized for his outburst the night before, admitting that maybe Dustin had a point and there needed to be more blue spaces on his study schedule. Mark accepted his apology, and, in the interest of preventing future meltdowns, agreed to let him make Mark a schedule, which made Chris’ eyes light up. He was deranged like that.
Not that Mark promised to use the schedule, but he’d at least look it over.
Eduardo continued to send him a barrage of texts over the week, updating Mark on his studying frenzy and his level of caffeine consumption. Mark was strangely tolerant of this, even though from anyone else he’d have considered the updates inane; he didn’t need to know that Eduardo had just memorized the entire geologic time scale using a mnemonic device about the plot of Harry Potter. No one needed to know that. But Mark found he kind of liked knowing anyway. And Mark hadn’t gotten to see a lot of Eduardo since finals started, though Eduardo did as promised show up before his Calc exam with a cup of coffee and a frazzled smile before dashing off again.
Then finally it was the last day of finals and Mark and Dustin were sprinting to their OS exam -of course the hardware had arrived the night before the one final Mark was actually a bit concerned about. He’d still made Dustin help him get the racks set up and the software installed and the systems started. So they were maybe running a bit late the next morning, and that was probably why they literally ran into Eduardo as they rounded a corner. Mark managed to keep his balance, but Eduardo had actually hit an ice patch and toppled over into a mound of slush and now was sitting there making a ridiculously miserable face up at them.
“Goddammit,” Mark said, rubbing his side - he’d rebounded off into a street pole, and shit was definitely going to bruise.
“Oh, fuck me,” Dustin moaned beside him, hands in his hair and practically dancing in place. Mark blinked at him-maybe it was Dustin’s turn for the psychotic break? “We are so, so sorry, you have no idea how sorry, it is beyond human language to convey how sorry-”
Mark ignored him and looked over at Eduardo, who was still sitting in the slush and pouting.
“I’m so embarrassed. I normally have great poise and grace, I promise,” he said sadly, and Mark snorted and leaned down to help him up. Eduardo smiled up at him ruefully, a smudge of dirt on his cheek; Mark unthinkingly rubbed it off with his thumb. Eduardo’s eyes dipped closed for a moment, then opened again, warm and dark. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Not the time. Definitely not the time. He took Eduardo’s hand and helped haul him up to his feet. “Jesus, Wardo, you look like shit.” And he did, with deep circles beneath his eyes and his lips chapped and ragged, and now he was muddy and bedraggled to boot.
“Ow, my feelings,” Eduardo drawled, and then made another exaggeratedly sad face. Then he laughed, and yeah, okay, even the strung-out exams version of Eduardo still looked pretty good. He shook his head, started trying to brush the slush and dirt off his coat. “Fuck, this thing’s a goner.” Dustin made a strangled noise from next to them, and Eduardo glanced over and winced, then continued hastily. “It’s fine, sorry. My fault. I was tired and not looking where I was going - geology exam just let out.”
“How’d you do?” Mark asked immediately, and then remembered how late they were and swore, hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “Fuck, sorry, our exam started fifteen minutes ago. Tell me later. Dustin. Dustin, come on.”
“Text me after?” Eduardo said, and his voice sounded strange, frayed and stressed like overused cable. Probably he was just overtired. Mark flapped a hand absently at him in agreement and started off again at a slightly more sedate pace, so as to prevent further collisions.
Except, fuck. Dustin was still standing there in the same place, staring at Eduardo. Maybe he’d concussed himself on something during their collision - the three of them had been all over the place. Maybe his head had hit the street corner or the ground or something. Mark sighed and backtracked, grabbing Dustin by the arm and tugging him down the street.
“Dude,” Dustin kept hissing at him, trying to slow him down. “Stop, wait! Dude, you know him?”
“Uh, yeah?” Mark said, since apparently Dustin wasn’t going to take silence for an answer. “Wardo. I told you about him. Our first investor.”
“Seriously.” Dustin squeaked. “Seriously?”
Mark shot him a blank look. “Do you know him?”
“Seriously?” Dustin repeated, voice getting higher and more squeaky, which was, to be frank, sort of impressive. “That’s your Prince Charming? The Eric to your Ariel, the street rat to your princess? The Beauty to your Beast?”
“There is actually something wrong with you,” Mark observed aloud, then said exasperatedly when Dustin continued to gape, “He’s just a friend, I told you.” Dustin had stopped again, clutching at a doorframe and goggling at him.
“You didn’t think of once mentioning that your ridiculous coffee crush was-wait. Wait, do you know who he is? Oh, fuck me, you totally don’t.”
Mark frowned at him, but the exam had started twenty minutes ago, so he abandoned Dustin and his nonsensical babble and his apparent love-affair with the door frame, found a free computer, and got started.
***
He finished his exam well before Dustin, who glanced up as Mark was leaving and made a genuinely alarming face at him, vaguely fish-like. Mark paused for a moment, bewildered, then edged out of the room and out of sight. What the fuck had that been about? Mark just wanted to find his way home and collapse on the couch and sleep for at least a few hours before finally, finally being able to get to work.
Also he needed to call Eduardo, see how his own exam went, if he was okay. Plus, he remembered being promised drinks at some point. He could definitely pencil that in.
Chris was there when Mark opened the door; he’d already taken possession of half of the couch. He opened one eye and grunted.
“Yeah,” Mark agreed, and flopped on the couch next to him, staring up at the ceiling. It was nice, and quiet, and he spent what felt like a very short amount of time drifting off before Dustin burst in the door.
“Do you know who our little Mark muffin has been crushing on?” he demanded. Mark sighed. Chris sat up and glared at Dustin.
“Inside voice, we’ve talked about this before-”
“The prince!” Dustin howled.
“What?” Chris said, eyes bulging out.
“He calls him Wardo!” Dustin said, bouncing onto the couch and shoving his way into the space between them. “Have you ever heard anything so precious, it’s seriously a fucking fairytale.”
Oh, Christ. More of this. Sure Eduardo was attractive, but this was just unnecessary levels of excitement. “Go to sleep, Dustin,” Mark said irritably. “Jesus, I bet you bombed the exam. You should email Gordon and tell her you’re sick. Maybe she’ll let you re-take it tomorrow.”
Dustin totally ignored him. “You know how I know this? I know this because we ran into him and he knows Mark’s name .”
“Wait,” Chris said slowly, with an air of dawning horror. “Wait. Oh god, you’re serious.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Dustin said, wounded, and then winced. “Okay, but no, this is, this is serious. This is Mark actually fucking living in a fucking Disney movie and not knowing it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mark asked, exasperated.
“The Prince. The one that goes to Harvard. Crown Prince Eduardo Saverin. The visiting royalty. Mark. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know the prince of Brazil is going to school with us?”
Mark took a moment to process this, and then got off the couch. He needed - he needed something to drink. He made his way across the room, sat on the floor and leaned against the mini-fridge for a moment before opening it and rummaging around. He bypassed the Red Bull and took the last beer, then struggled with the top, staring down at it. Screw-top, or did he need a bottle opener? Screw top, right, good-his hand hurt a little, but now it was open.
“Why would I know that?” he asked, taking a swig. “Why the fuck would I care?”
“How the fuck could you not know that?” Chris demanded, and oh, wonderful, when Mark turned around both Dustin and Chris were staring at him with wild eyes. “It’s all people talked this semester! There’s a whole Myspace page set up for Prince Eduardo sightings around campus. Dustin and I talked about it all the time when classes started. You were there.”
“Since when do I listen when people talk about bullshit like that?” Mark said sulkily into the beer bottle, but his cheeks felt hot and he was pouring the beer into an empty, bottomless void where his stomach should be. “And-I mean, in my defense, if you aren’t just fucking with me, Dustin talks about crazy shit and Disney princes all the damn time. So do girls. Princes, I mean. People talk about princes all the time and don’t mean it literally.”
He should go to the computer. Look it up. Confirm what he was hearing. He-it was conceivable that it was true.
Mark had thought he’d found everything important, everything relevant. But he hadn’t done an exhaustive search. He’d known Eduardo wasn’t an internet person, had no blogs attached to his school email, or even his Gmail account, so Mark hadn’t bothered looking further, wasn’t interested in finding more gossip blogs and undergrads crushing on him. He’d just hunted down Eduardo’s class schedule and grades, his email and professors, and, okay, some of the reference letters they’d written, praising Eduardo’s business acumen and professionalism. Eduardo wasn’t in any of the clubs or fraternities or societies.
He hadn’t-it hadn’t occurred to Mark to search for Eduardo outside of who he was at Harvard, as a student. Apparently that had been immensely, incredibly stupid of him. He knew Harvard wasn’t the whole world. Mark knew that, and he’d still been fucking blinkered by it anyway. He was just as bad as the Winkleviis.
“Eduardo’s from Brazil,” he said numbly, staring at their fridge door, feeling weirdly apprehensive. Like if he opened it again Zuul might pop out from between the packets of string cheese and boxes of leftover Chinese, like in Ghostbusters.
Maybe she would, what the fuck did Mark know. Not a lot, apparently.
“Yes, that’s what we’re telling you,” Chris said. “Eduardo is Brazil. I can’t fucking believe you, only fucking you could steal a prince’s laptop and get away with it.”
“Borrow,” Mark corrected absently, still processing, and Chris flung his hands in the air and made an incoherent noise that Mark ignored. “I borrowed it. It was returned.”
It-okay, it made sense. It did. Davi, and the other Davis. Bodyguards. The throngs of people that followed Eduardo everywhere. The way he talked about his family. The royal family. It made sense.
“He didn’t tell me,” Mark said dully, and finished the beer. Chris touched his arm, and Mark registered it dimly, groping for something, anything that would make this less of an idiotic oversight. For some reason he suddenly flashed to the memory of telling Erica that he’d be able to get her into clubs, places she wouldn’t be able to get into on her own. He thought maybe he understood the look on her face, now.
Crown Prince of Brazil.
Fuck. Eduardo must think he was a total fucking idiot.
“Mark. Mark, when’s the last time you slept?” Chris asked, voice softer now. “Look, it’s-okay, it is a big deal, but maybe you should lay down for a while, alright?”
“I’m fine. I have work to do,” Mark protested, glaring, when there was a knock at the door.
Everyone just stared for a moment, then Dustin scrambled to his feet and peered through the peephole.
“It’s him!” he whisper-screeched. “It’s him, and he has beer, and two terrifying looking bodyguard dudes are with him!”
“The Davis,” Mark said, mouth dry. He stood up, feeling dizzy for a moment before he got his balance back. “Open the door.”
“No. No, you cannot let the crown prince of Brazil into this apartment,” Chris insisted, and clung to Mark as Mark tried to make his way over to the door. Mark shook him off disbelievingly. “It hasn’t been cleaned in weeks, it’s-it’s fucking toxic. Mark! Mark, you seriously can’t-”
Mark brushed Dustin aside and opened the door himself, then immediately felt like all the blood in his veins had been replaced with Red Bull. Fizzing and burning. Eduardo smiled hopefully at him, lifting a twelve-pack, and Mark smiled back reflexively.
“Hi. I brought beer. Are you, ah. Busy?” He peeked around Mark, eyes big, and waved tentatively at Dustin and Chris.
“Your highness,” Chris said in a strangled voice, and Eduardo stiffened right in front of Mark’s eyes, like someone’d slipped ice down his collar. The smile had slipped off his face.
“It’s just Wardo,” Mark said without thinking. Chris swore at him, wide-eyed, and Mark thought - fuck, right, it’s not just Wardo- but after a beat passed, Eduardo blinked at Mark, then smiled. Lit up, and he was staring Mark right in the eyes, and it was-yeah.
“Beer!” Dustin said into the silence, and leapt between them, taking hold of the twelve-pack. “You’re too kind, your most royalness. Especially after we knocked you over on the street today. I seriously thought the snipers were going to take us out.”
Snipers. Really?
“I don’t, uh. Actually have snipers?” Eduardo said, after moment of coughing. He had a funny, self-deprecating smile on his face and his bangs had fallen slightly in front of his eyes-his hair was damp, probably from a shower. Dustin already looked enchanted. Chris was slowly unbending, smiling now and seeming more relaxed. Mark stood by the door and watched. “And Davi and Carlos and everyone know Mark, so. I mean, please don’t worry. I don’t have people put to death for running into me on the street, honest.”
He glanced over at Mark and then bit his lip, looked down. “Mark, I-can we talk?”
“Yes,” Mark said, and waited, and Eduardo stared at him. Chris closed his eyes, and said, “His room’s over there, Your Highness. Eduardo. Um.”
“We’ll just be out here drinking beer!” Dustin said cheerfully. “Playing video games. Loud ones! Ow, Chris, what the hell, man.”
Eduardo snorted, and then started for Mark’s room, glancing back at Mark. Mark shrugged.
“I warned you about my roommates.”
“I like them,” Eduardo said, and then over the sound of Dustin complaining and Chris shushing him, he closed the door, and then they were alone again. No, alone for the first time. They’d always been in public places before, with bodyguards or curious students or faculty looking over their shoulders.
Now Mark knew why.
Mark leaned back against the closed door, and Eduardo stared at him, hands in his pockets and lower lip between his teeth.
“Mark,” he said, and Mark folded his arms against his chest and regarded him coolly.
“You wanted to talk. So talk.”
Eduardo winced and looked away, staring down at his feet. “You’re upset.”
“I don’t know what I am,” Mark said after a moment. Even though Mark had been upset just seconds ago, now that he was confronted by Eduardo’s face, the way he was holding himself like he was bracing for a blow, Mark just wanted to reassure, to lie, even, which was ridiculous. “You should have told me.”
“I should have,” Eduardo repeated, nodding, and then started pacing. Mark stayed by the door and watched Eduardo’s long legs devour the room, like he was trying to outrun his own words. “I just-in my defense, I’ve never had to tell anyone, and I didn’t-didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“I -you made me feel so fucking stupid,” Mark bit out, and there, there was the anger. Because Mark wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was a fucking genius. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d legitimately been this embarrassed, made this much of a mistake about something that was so discrete and unequivocal.
It was almost like high school all over again, that moment when he’d realize there was a spitball in his hair, or that he was the person the group of girls was laughing at in homeroom. No, worse, it was like being invited to the fucking Porcellian and being made to stay in the coat room while Harvard princes dripped condescension all over the place and acted like it was such a giant fucking gesture to the lowly peasant.
It was even worse this time, though, in a weird way, because Mark actually fucking liked Eduardo, and the fact that Eduardo might have been laughing at him behind his back hurt. He didn’t think Eduardo actually would, but just the idea of it made him want to withdraw, lash out. Hide.
Eduardo was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth fallen slightly open, and then he crossed the room in two strides and took Mark’s hand. Not fair. That was dirty pool, and Mark didn’t know how to interpret any of it. His brain crashed and froze and all he could do was stare as he tried to process what was going on, brain looping around the sensation of Eduardo’s skin on his.
“I never-god, you’re the least stupid person I know. It’s stupid, it doesn’t matter. You don’t care about shit like, like celebrities. I like that about you. That’s not stupid. It’s-it’s great. You’re great.”
“I don’t understand you,” Mark said, swallowing and staring down at their linked hands. Eduardo’s fingers were long and tan and curled around his, and Mark had known that the hands were the one of the most sensitive, nerve-filled parts of the body, but he'd never felt it like this before. “You don’t make sense.”
“See, that’s funny to me, because-because I feel like you understand me better than anyone.” Eduardo laughed a little, a broken sound, and dropped his head so that Mark couldn’t see his eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you-I, you looked at me. Like I was a person and not a prince. I didn’t want that to change.”
What? “It’s not like members of royalty are some other species,” Mark interjected, slightly annoyed, and Eduardo laughed again. But this time the laugh was a better thing to hear, brighter. He was looking at Mark now, looking down at him and smiling like Mark was a Dell Poweredge rack-mounted server, like Mark was a signed check for everything he’d ever wanted.
“God, that’s-you’re amazing.”
“I still feel like an idiot,” Mark muttered, feeling his cheeks get a hot. Which, okay, he was fucking amazing, but not at-not at stuff like this. He was amazing with computers, not people. But Eduardo wasn’t laughing at him.
“Please don’t,” Eduardo said earnestly, and then seemed to realize he was still holding Mark’s hand, because he let it go and flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-knew the longer I waited, the harder it would get, but, I. God, Mark. I really like you, and I’m a coward, because. Because it’s so complicated, and once you knew, I’d have to-to face that. I didn’t want to.”
“You like me,” Mark repeated slowly. Most of the resentment and embarrassment had faded and now there was just a low thrum of anticipation. Eduardo liked him. “Okay. So now you’ve told me. You’re a prince. Great. So can we just-I can kiss you now, right?” He hesitated while Eduardo stared at him. “I mean. You do want to, I’m not just a total fucking idiot?
He had to be sure, even though Eduardo had been holding his hand for the better part of the conversation, and staring at Mark’s mouth, and licking his lips, and generally broadcasting ‘kiss me’ loud enough that Mark was a little surprised Dustin hadn’t burst into the room with confetti and started singing that stupid Little Mermaid song.
“Yes,” Eduardo said, and Mark smiled triumphantly. But Eduardo was still talking, words tripping over themselves. “Yes, fuck, I want to so much, you have no idea-But that’s why, I. Mark, I’m the prince of Brazil. My father would… I can’t-I can’t be seen dating a guy.”
“Okay,” Mark said slowly, and shoved his stupidly cold hand in his hoodie pocket. “I-right. That makes sense. Catholic country, backwards. Right.”
Eduardo closed his eyes. “You don’t deserve to be a dirty secret, Mark. I can’t ask that of you. You deserve to be, to be taken out, and kissed in public. I don’t want you to have to hide, and-”
Well, Mark clearly wasn’t the only idiot in the room. Fuck this. He hauled Eduardo in by his collar and dragged him down.
For all his self-sacrificing noble words, Eduardo immediately opened his mouth for Mark, made a low, delighted noise and wrapped a hand in Mark’s hair and another around Mark’s waist and pulled him in closer.
“You’re so-” Eduardo moaned into his mouth. “God, Mark, you tried to steal me an exam.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, and bit at Eduardo’s lower lip. “I can still do that. If you want, I can change your grades. I can-”
Eduardo made a desperate, needy noise, and took Mark’s face in his hands and backed him against the door. Mark tipped his head back and Eduardo pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his throat as Mark panted at the ceiling and considered whether or not he was limber enough to get a leg around Eduardo’s waist.
“Okay. Yes. I accept,” Mark said to the ceiling tiles, and then breathed out in a startled rush when Eduardo sucked hard on his collarbone, a bright rush of almost-pain that, wow-wow, that really did it for him, he wanted more of that immediately.
“Sorry, what?” Eduardo said, pulling back to look at him. His mouth was red and wet and used, and Mark wanted to taste it again immediately, or to see it other places. Or to feel it on his cock. God, that would be amazing.
“I’ll be your dirty secret boyfriend,” Mark said. “I don’t mind.”
There was a high-pitched noise of glee from the other side of the door, and Mark and Eduardo froze.
“Goddammit, Dustin,” he heard Chris hiss. Jesus fuck, what was wrong with them?
“I told you,” Mark said, glaring at the door. “I tried to warn you. They’re demented. Go the fuck away, Dustin!” he yelled, and kicked at the door for emphasis. There was a bit of grumbling and Dustin shouting something congratulatory about lovebirds, and then they were, hopefully, gone, or at least farther away. “Sorry about that.”
“I don’t mind,” Eduardo murmured, with what Mark objectively knew was a stupidly goofy smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of it as anything but incredible. “They’re your friends, I trust them.” Mark looked at him, because seriously? Eduardo shrugged, lopsided. “I guess like people knowing? I wish everyone could know.”
Mark’s chest felt stupidly tight. He had to kiss him for that, except Eduardo kept trying to talk. “But Mark, listen. Are you sure? I mean, just… you have to be sure. It’s-it’ll be hard, and there’s a lot of issues we’ll have to, we need to plan-”
So Mark had to kiss him again to shut him up before he started moping again about how hard it was to be a prince, which Mark suspected there would be enough of in the future. Also, well. He was there, and Mark wanted to kiss him. Eduardo was a good kisser, and his hands were in Mark’s hair, and it was almost as good as getting the servers online. The Facebook would be up soon and Eduardo was kissing him. Life was good.
Except then Eduardo disentangled himself from Mark. His breath was coming fast and his eyes were all pupil, and clearly he was having as good as time as Mark was but for some reason he was moving away, what the fuck.
“Come on, we should-we should go have a beer with Dustin and Chris,” Eduardo said, tugging at Mark’s hand.
“What? No. We should have sex.”
Eduardo choked on a laugh. “Mark, that’d be rude,” he chided, eyes shining. “Your friends are out there, I haven’t even really talked to them yet.” He paused and bit his lip, looked at Mark from beneath his lashes. “We can, uh, later, though. If you want.”
“Did I not make that adequately clear, your highness?” Mark asked dryly, and stepped forward into Eduardo’s space, took Eduardo’s hand and brought it down to the waist of his pants, sucked in a breath and when Eduardo dragged it further down. “Because if you need further proof, I have-god, yeah, there.” He bucked up into Eduardo’s touch. “Yeah. I really fucking want.”
“No, seriously, Mark, we should-” Eduardo murmured, but he was watching Mark’s face and his own eyes were glassy. “God, you look good.” Then he shook himself and it was like watching a Jekyll and Hyde movie, seeing Eduardo pull himself back together, transforming from a kiss-mussed guy to this smooth, collected person, all buttoned-up and professional-looking. A prince. Shit. “We’ve waited this long, come on, Mark. I want your friends to like me.”
“I hate you,” Mark said and took a moment to adjust his pants before following Eduardo resentfully into the living room. “Shouldn’t that matter more?”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Dustin said from the couch where he was guiding Yoshi around a curve. “He loooves you. He doodles your name on all his notebooks.”
“I do not,” Mark said, affronted, and flopped onto one of the chairs, then startled when Eduardo folded himself next to him, draped over the armrest and beaming, handing him an open beer. “I, uh. I really don’t. That’d be insipid.”
“Right, totally,” Eduardo said, and snuck a hand into Mark’s hair, which Mark suspected was also sort of insipid, except it felt awesome, so he just pushed his head back into Eduardo’s fingers and shut up. “Mario Kart, fantastic,” Eduardo said brightly into the video-game tinted silence of Chris and Dustin staring at them-Dustin in delight and Chris in a familiar fugue of alarm. “My sister and I love this game. It got really, ah, heated sometimes. She broke a television once when I used a red shell on her.”
“No shit?” Chris laughed, looking fascinated. A person, not just a prince, Mark remembered Eduardo saying. And now Eduardo looked relaxed and happy the way he’d never seen him before, out here with Mark’s friends, getting handed a video controller and joking about buying them all a replacement TV if it came down to it.
Fine. Maybe Wardo had been right. They could have sex later. For now he’d just watch his boyfriend beat his roommates to a pulp for a couple rounds because they were too afraid to play dirty, where Eduardo, for once, was not.
The first time Dustin called Eduardo a fucking rat red shell bastard, Eduardo fucking glowed.
Mark snuck a hand into Wardo’s hair, settled back, and watched the game.
***
Mark woke slowly, strangely warm and content. He registered the soft loop of the Nintendo music in the background first, then Eduardo’s fingers in his hair. His face was pressed in Eduardo’s neck; that was mildly embarrassing. He hoped he hadn’t been drooling, or snoring, or saying stupid shit in his sleep. Part of him wanted sit up and check, but a larger part wanted to stay curled up and warm and drift back into unconsciousness. He was so tired.
“Yeah, the first run-through caught some errors,” Chris was saying softly. “And it’s still taking more processing power than we expected.”
“Should we let him know? Wake him up?” Eduardo’s voice, a low rumbling thrum beneath Mark’s skin. He liked that.
“I dunno, he hasn’t slept in like, three days. But I guess he has to get up eventually, you can’t spend all night in that chair. It can’t be comfortable.”
“I don’t mind.”
Mark smiled automatically, turning his face into Wardo’s pulse. Then he fully processed the rest of the conversation and stiffened, jolted electrically into full consciousness.
Their test run was complete. There was code to fix. Fuck sleep.
“It’s ready?” he said thickly, and tried to stand up; Eduardo caught him and drew him back down before he could topple over. Mark scowled at him and made a half-hearted effort to get back to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes. “What errors?”
Eduardo was laughing at him, the fucker. Mark scowled and Eduardo shrugged, still smiling.
“Knew the laptop withdrawal symptoms would hit you eventually,” he teased, and Mark fought the urge to stick out his tongue.
“Here, princess,” Dustin said cheerfully, and handed Mark his open laptop. “You’re welcome, no movement required.”
Mark eyed him balefully for a brief moment, but Dustin had chosen his timing well. Mark was far too absorbed with the numbers in front of him to lodge a complaint about being called a princess. He settled back into Eduardo’s arms and started opening windows, checking CPU and memory drain.
“This is wrong,” he muttered. “The lag time is hideous, this is bad.” He gnawed on a hoodie string and tried to figure out where they were going wrong. He didn’t want to go back to the basic code. God. That would be fucking-brutal. That would be the worst. Then Eduardo’s finger came out of nowhere and startled him, tapping lightly on the screen, and Mark jumped slightly.
“I don’t know much about computers, but that second algorithm is crazy inefficient,” Eduardo said into his ear, warm and thoughtful, and Mark shivered.
“What?” he said dumbly. Shit, he needed a Red Bull.
“Chris and me just cobbled something together,” Dustin admitted from somewhere outside the warm bubble of laptop and armchair and Wardo. “We got one of the math guys from AePi to look it over, they said it was decent.”
“Hmm,” Eduardo said, and Mark let him take the laptop from his fingers, watching in a daze as Eduardo bit his lip, eyes sharpening as he typed out a few equations.
“Try that,” he said, handing the computer back, and by then Mark was totally, incredibly awake.
“That’s-that’s good,” he said, and dragged his eyes away from Eduardo’s mouth to the screen. “Fuck, Wardo, that’s brilliant.”
He wasn’t used to this, to having to force himself to focus. He rewrote the program to incorporate Eduardo’s algorithm as quickly as possible, ignoring the buzz of conversation around them. He fixed a few of the most obvious coding bugs, then set the laptop down on the coffee table.
“Run it again,” he told Chris, and then hauled Eduardo to his feet. “Come get me when it’s done.”
He started dragging Eduardo towards his room, then paused in the doorway. “Will the Davis be upset?”
“What?” Eduardo laughed, bemused. He was rubbing his thumb against the back of Mark’s hand and smiling, one of those smiles that was mostly in his eyes and only slightly in the curve of his lips. Mark nearly lost the thread of his thought, his thought that Eduardo might be missed and a SWAT team might descend on them the next morning and the ‘dirty secret’ part of this relationship would probably become less secret and more public.
“If you spend the night. Do you need to go? I want to fuck you, but if you need to go-”
Eduardo’s smile dropped off his face and his eyes went huge, and Mark had a dizzying moment of pure doubt before the smile came back, bigger than ever, wide and white with teeth. Mark barely heard Dustin’s gleeful shout and Chris’ moan, could barely hear anything but his own heartbeat in his ears.
“No, uh. I told them I’d be here late,” Eduardo said, bright red but still beaming. “They’re-they won’t say anything. It’s not a problem. I mean, I’ll-I have to go places, in the morning, but it’s--yeah.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Eduardo’s cheeks were bright red, but his breath was coming quicker and his smile was brilliant.
“Good,” Mark said, pleased, and licked his teeth and smiled.
Eduardo visibly shivered, and then dragged Mark the last few steps into the room. As an apparent afterthought, he called over his shoulder. “Night, guys! Thanks for the game.”
“Bed him well, your highness. Bed him well!” Dustin hollered back before there was the distinct sound of someone being forcefully beaten with a pillow.
Mark rolled his eyes and slammed the door closed, then immediately started tugging off his hoodie, swearing as his head got caught in the neck.
“Jesus, Mark, slow down, you’ll choke yourself,” Eduardo said, laughing, and helped him pull it the rest of the way off. Normally Mark would have objected, or been annoyed, because he didn’t need the help, obviously, it was just a fucking shirt that was a size too small that he didn’t feel like getting rid of because it was otherwise perfectly fine. Except, well. It was Eduardo, and he was laughing, and it was definitely at Mark, but it didn’t feel mean. Just… happy.
And then, what the fuck, he was actually folding Mark’s hoodie, setting it carefully on a chair. Because god forbid Mark’s Milford High sweatshirt get wrinkled. Mark was torn between the urge to laugh incredulously and the desire to tackle Eduardo to the bed and kiss the living hell out of him, because god, that was just so-
He shucked off his t-shirt and pants, and kicked them aside, then advanced on Eduardo, who was staring at him with a gratifyingly dazed expression. Mark got in his space and Eduardo’s hands found his waist and tugged him in, and it already felt so fucking good, just having Eduardo’s fingers on his bare skin, stroking along his sides.
“Hi,” Eduardo said, smiling down at him, wide and goofy, and Mark was temporarily distracted from ridding him of his shirt with all its stupidly small buttons.
“You’re really attractive,” Mark said, and then made an impatient noise into the ensuing kiss. “The goal here is nudity. I’m assisting, but you could lend a hand. Take your pants off.”
“I-Mark,” Eduardo said, biting his lower lip. “I-there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh, Christ,” Mark said reflexively, and Eduardo looked blank for a moment, then laughed.
“No, I mean, it’s nothing like that. You’ve already heard the worst, honestly.”
“So having sex is still imminent,” Mark clarified, and Eduardo made a really bizarre face, like he was laughing and wincing at once.
“That’s sort of the thing. I, uh, sort of… haven’t before?” Mark’s jaw dropped. What?
“What?” he got out, and Eduardo winced, this time for real.
“With a guy, I mean. There’ve been girls. Well.” He coughed. “A girl.”
Mark stared. “Seriously? But… you’re, look at you.” Eduardo’s shirt was open now, hanging loosely, and his body was golden and toned and he had that face, and mouth, and it didn’t make sense. “I mean. Why not?”
“It’s a big risk,” Eduardo shrugged, and his fingers were tense on Mark’s sides, which Mark could get used to in other contexts, but in this one wasn’t so pleasant. “Especially with guys, that they’d sell the story, or-I don’t know. Girls, too. The whole prince thing, and wanting to get pregnant, and it’s not-it’s not easy.”
“Okay,” Mark said, processing. “Right. So I’ll be gentle.” His mouth quirked a little as Eduardo glared.
“Fuck you,” Eduardo said, but he was laughing despite his attempts to scowl, and Mark grinned and went back to divesting Eduardo of his pants.
“No, really,” Mark continued, and worked the shirt off Eduardo’s shoulder, tossed it over the back of a chair where it wouldn’t wrinkle. “I’ll make it good. Take it slow. And people, people have said I’ve got good fingers, so.”
“I’ve noticed. I like your hands,” Eduardo murmured, voice husky, and caught one of Mark’s hands on his belt and drew it to his mouth, kissed the fingertips. “And I don’t want to go slow. I just thought you should, uh. Know.”
“I’ll be your first,” Mark said smugly, and started walking Eduardo towards the bed, pushed him down on it. “I like that.”
Eduardo made a pleased, low sound and dragged him into a wet kiss. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Yeah, I like that, too.”
Then he was flipping Mark over and pressing him into the sheets, kissing down Mark’s chest, and Mark blinked. “No, wait, I-”
“I’ve really wanted to-I just, Mark, can I?”
“Of course you can, Jesus,” Mark said, and pushed down gently on Eduardo’s head, pushing him downwards. “I planned on starting with you, but you know, I’m nineteen, I think I’ll get it up again pretty easily, and really, maybe it’s better to take the edge off anyw-oh, oh, fuck, Wardo, yeah, like that.”
“Like that?” Eduardo asked, looking up at him from beneath his lashes and then mouthing the head of Mark’s cock again, mouth red and wet and shiny, and oh god, it was definitely good to take the edge off. Mark was already about to come, just from this, all over Eduardo’s gorgeous fucking face.
“Yes,” he said faintly, and tried to keep from bucking his hips. He loosened his fingers in Eduardo’s hair, went to grip the sheets instead, but Eduardo caught his wrists and drew his hands back.
“No, I like it-you can, uh, move my head. Just-not too deep at first, okay?”
“God,” Mark said thickly, awed. “Look at you, fuck. You’ve been-you’ve been thinking about this, Jesus, Wardo. Fuck. That’s my cock in your mouth, and you -you look like you love it. Do you? Wardo, do you?”
Eduardo made a humming sound of agreement, eyes dark, and god, he was going to town, wet and hungry, noisy. He pulled off now and again to nuzzle at Mark’s stomach, panting, before diving back, like he couldn’t get enough. Mark had had better blowjobs, technically, but it turned out enthusiasm was way more of a turn-on than he’d realized. Watching Eduardo taste him and moan around him and try to take him down as far as he could was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and feeling it was even better.
Even the edge of teeth felt good. He told Eduardo so, and Eduardo smiled around him and then drew his mouth back up in a long, smooth line, a continuous careful scrape of his teeth, and Mark said, choked, “Oh god, Wardo, I’ll come, I’ll-”
“Mmhmm,” Eduardo hummed, and that was it, game fucking over.
“Jesus, Jesus,” Mark said, hand over his eyes, shaking with it and feeling totally boneless for a moment. Then he dragged Eduardo up and kissed the come away from the edge of his mouth, his chin. “You’re so-that was amazing.”
“Yeah?” Eduardo said over him, kissing him back, barely letting him get the sentence out. “God, good, I wanted you to-I wanted it to be good. You taste so good, Mark.”
“So, your turn.”
“Are we keeping score?” Eduardo laughed, but he immediately rolled over when Mark pushed at his hip. He was still in his pants, and Mark worked them down over his calves, remembering at the last second to make an approximation of folding them before getting back on the bed.
Eduardo was stretched out on his bed, golden and perfect, and there were tanlines. Mark wanted to put his mouth on them, but he had to take a moment just to stare.
“I’ll make it good for you,” he said, and his voice came out shaky, because, god, he really-he wanted it to be good for Eduardo. He’d done this with girlfriends, before, and they’d loved it, and it couldn’t be that different with a guy. He palmed Eduardo’s ass, and Eduardo made a small motion backwards, into his hand, and yeah, getting hard again was not going to be a problem. He pressed a kiss to the small of Eduardo’s back, and then fumbled in the bedside drawer to find the lube.
“I, ah, I’m clean,” he said, fumbling the cap open. “In case you wondered, so, I mean. I know it’s better to use a condom, but if you…?”
“I am, too,” Eduardo said after a moment. “So, ah. Yeah. If you want?”
“I want,” Mark said, and kissed the lighter line of skin again, mouth open, and lined up his fingers. At the first touch, Eduardo made a tiny noise, tensing, then settled again as Mark kept kissing his lower back, tonguing the vertebrae. “So good, Wardo. It’ll be good. Yeah. Relax, like that.”
“I-I thought about this, too,” Eduardo confessed, voice thick. He had his head turned, neck arched, trying to watch Mark, and it was somehow incredibly hot, seeing the red flush of his cheek and the way he was biting his lower lip.
“Did you do this?” Mark asked, and pressed in another finger. Jesus, Wardo was tight. And hot, and slick with lube, and soon he’d be slick with Mark’s come, and it was going to be fantastic.
“Yes,” Eduardo hissed, and Mark crooked his fingers and he made a startled sound and pushed back, eyes falling shut. “Oh god, but this-is better. God.”
“Yeah, it’s always better when it’s someone else, isn’t it?” Mark said thoughtfully, and got a steady rhythm going, watched his fingers disappearing inside Eduardo, pressing places no one else got to touch, to feel. “You look so fucking hot.”
“You feel-god, you’re-”
“Seriously, you’re just-“ Mark bent his head and mouthed the place where his fingers met Eduardo’s skin.
“Mark, what are you-oh god, Mark-” The sounds Eduardo was making were fucking incredible, dazed and unabashedly loud, desperate and choked, so Mark dipped his tongue in alongside his fingers and Eduardo started moaning in earnest, trying to say Mark’s name.
He added another finger and sped up, and Eduardo bucked his hips and said, “Mark,” and shuddered, his back arching.
Mark slowed and lifted his head smugly, wiped at the lube on his mouth. “You just came, didn’t you?”
Eduardo panted something at him, totally limp and sweaty, and Mark grinned. “It gets better,” he promised, and said, “You’re doing so good, are you ready?”
“Fuck me already,” Eduardo growled finally, and got up on his hands and knees, glaring over his shoulder. His hair was a sweaty, tangled mess, falling in his eyes, and he looked fucking amazing. “Unless you can’t get it up yet.”
Mark snorted and slicked himself up. “Did you see yourself? I’d have to be dead.”
Eduardo’s face melted from mock-anger into a smile, and Mark wasn’t sure what about what he’d said had made him light up like that, look so happy, but he was glad anyway.
“Ready?” he asked, and Eduardo rolled his eyes and started to say something, but then Mark started pressing in and he trailed off, eyes huge and dark. “Yeah, it’s bigger than fingers. Breathe. Relax, you’re doing so-god, yeah, so good, Wardo. Like that. Let me in.”
It was incredibly hard not just-letting go, because it was really, insanely good. Hot and tight and it was Eduardo, and he was shaking, a fine tremble beneath Mark’s palms.
“Is it good?” he asked hoarsely, and Eduardo made a wordless noise and moved a tiny bit, experimentally, back and forth, and Jesus, this wasn’t going to last long. “Can I?”
“You’re all talk, Mark,” Eduardo said, and pushed back again, harder this time. “If you’re going to-oh, if you’re going to fuck me, you should-god, yeah.”
“As your majesty commands,” Mark said, aiming for dry and coming closer to breathless, and did.
“You’re a bastard,” Eduardo groaned, and pillowed his head on his arms and moved with him, and it was just-so fucking good. “I didn’t-I didn’t know it would, would be like this.”
“Good?” Mark asked, and kissed his shoulder, tasted salt.
“God, yeah, it’s-so good, oh god, Mark. I’m-I’m glad it’s you.”
“Yeah,” Mark echoed. “You’re so good, with the algorithms, it was so fucking, fucking hot, Eduardo, I wanted to just-right there, in the living room. In the chair.”
“Mark,” Eduardo said helplessly, and turned his head and kissed him, sloppy and wet, biting at his mouth.
“I can’t-I can’t-“ Mark got out, in between breaths, into Eduardo’s mouth. “Oh, god, you have to come, Wardo, you have to come now, before I-”
He took a hand off Wardo’s hip and got it underneath them, wrapped it around Wardo’s cock and just, he couldn’t even keep rhythm anymore, but apparently he didn’t need to because Eduardo just moaned into Mark’s cheek and came, all over his hand. And that was it, Mark was done.
He collapsed on top of Eduardo’s back and just lay there, dazed and a little smug, basking in the sound of Eduardo’s ragged breathing.
“Two for two,” he said muzzily, and kissed Eduardo’s neck.
“Goal,” Eduardo mumbled into the pillow, and then shifted a little, and Mark got off him, pulling out carefully. He took a moment to press a finger inside again, feel the slickness, and Eduardo made a startled noise, half-moan and half-laugh.
“Mine,” Mark murmured without thinking, and Eduardo said, quiet and contented-sounding, “Yeah. Okay.”
Mark stared at him, breath caught and lodged in his throat. Eduardo looked more than half asleep, so Mark said, “Good,” and found some Kleenex to wipe them both down before turning off the light and crawling back in the bed.
The rest of the world could wait until tomorrow.
***
PART THREE
***
Mark wanted The Facebook online today, yesterday, now, but, obnoxiously, he seemed to be alone in that, as he found out later over dinner.
“He gave you the money?” Chris said, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. “Really? That’s… shit. Wow.”
“He must really like you,” Dustin observed proudly. “I take credit. My cheerleading is magic.”
“You have my everlasting gratitude,” Mark said, deadpan, and then shoveled in another mouthful of lo mein, talking around it. “Now, I figure we can start getting the servers set up tomorrow, and online by tomorrow night. Then we can start running the code and looking for dropped lines, and-”
“Down, boy,” Dustin snorted. “Mark, I know you’re all fuzzy-headed with love and excitement and stuff, so it may have escaped your mind, and I understand that, but it is actually finals week. Chris has a color-coded study schedule. Chris made me a color-coded study schedule.” He pointed towards the fridge. “The blue is for sleep. Notice how little blue there is?”
“What’s your point?” Mark asked sulkily. “This is more important than-”
“So help me, if you finish that sentence, I will stab you with this,” Chris said mildly, gesturing with his chopstick. “Mark, look. I know this is going to be big. But you need some perspective. Maybe you can abandon all your classes and make Facebook your thing, but the rest of us have to graduate, okay? We can order the hardware online and have it delivered. That’ll give us a couple days free before your inevitable descent into madness.”
Mark’s phone went off across the room before he could form a rebuttal. When Mark got up to check it, there were three missed texts from Eduardo.
are you eating? if the company goes under when the ceo starves to death i’ll lose my investment :(
Followed shortly thereafter with, seriously mark don’t spend all night coding, your exam’s at 8
And then: let me know if you want coffee b4 it starts, i can bring you some :)
“Ugh,” Mark said, temporarily defeated. “I hate you all.”
Dustin perked up. “Is that your sugar daddy? Is he sending you sweet sexts of romance?”
Mark felt his spine stiffen and he tried to force his muscles to unknot. He didn’t want to think about this right now. “He’s not-no. He’s not interested like that. We’re friends,” Mark said coolly, tilting his chin up. “And business partners. That’s all.”
“Huh,” Dustin said after a moment. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Mark said, and something in his voice must have communicated his strong desire for Dustin to fucking drop it, because Dustin fell blessedly silent.
“Okay, feeding time is over. On to flashcards!” Chris said brightly after a long awkward pause, and for a moment Mark really, truly hated his life.
Then he remembered the check in his wallet.
Things could definitely be worse.
***
Mark got a panicked text at 4:19 in the morning, just as he was finishing up the last of his Calc problem sets.
oh god. as a favor to me, pleas do not steal the answer keys for your exams
Mark snorted, then winced and eyed Chris and Dustin, who were finally asleep in a sea of flashcards. They didn’t wake up, so he carefully closed his Calculus text book and tiptoed to his room.
He might have considered sending them to actual beds, but he wasn’t feeling especially charitable towards them at the moment.
Dustin had just been annoying, a constant background hum of ‘study songs’ because apparently he learned better when he sang himself his notes. That was bad enough. But then around midnight, Chris had had some sort of psychotic break, probably induced by all the fucking highlighter fumes he’d inhaled over the last couple days, and he’d started yelling about how Mark’d skipped all those classes and if he didn’t learn how to do Calculus now, he never would, and then he’d fail out of Harvard and his life would be over and he’d wind up on the street selling his body for Red Vines. It went on and on, and finally Mark had handed over his laptop and opened his textbook just to make him shut up.
But now the fucker was asleep, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
What do I get if I don’t? he texted back with one hand, opening his computer smugly and fighting a yawn. He really wanted a Red Bull, but opening the fridge would undoubtedly wake up the study duo. Then there would be panicking and brandishing of color-codes and really, Mark was just being thoughtful. They both needed rest.
jesus, Mark, i didnt think youd still be awake. go to sleep and then that’s not how favors work. Followed almost immediately by, what do you need?
Mark huffed out a quiet laugh, more air than sound. You’re awake. You go to sleep. And I don’t need anything but for the banks to open earlier. And maybe a Red Bull
i wish. i’m finishing an essay. can’t do anything about the banks but can send someone with redbull
Mark blinked. Well. That was... Not necessary. I have some in the kitchen right now, I just don’t want to wake up the roommates. Nothing you can do about that. He bit his lip, then added, But thank you for the offer. I won’t steal the exams.
:) good luck tomorrow
Mark stared down at the pixel smile. Eduardo was always smiling at him, beaming at Mark across the street, or in the library, or whenever he saw him-like just seeing Mark made him happy. He was probably smiling right now, just because Mark had said he’d do what he’d asked.
He wondered where Eduardo was, if he was at the library or in his own dorm, curled up with a laptop. He seemed like the sort to have actual, formal pajamas, the kind with stripes and buttons, not just a t-shirt and boxers like Mark.
And fuck if that didn’t lead his brain down paths it really, really shouldn’t go. Sleepy, rumpled Wardo, tousled hair and hooded eyes, and that smile. And okay, maybe that had been the path he’d been on the whole time, but he couldn’t help it. Once Mark started something, he saw it through, and he just-he wanted.
He typed, wardo look what i need, what i really need is for you to tell me whatever it is you think you have to tell me so we-
Except no. There wasn’t anything to tell him. Just excuses. Eduardo didn’t want this, or he’d have said. Mark’s brain needed to get with the fucking program. Get onboard the good ship friendship, or whatever. Eduardo was a good friend, and he’d be a great business partner, and Mark needed for once in his life to let something go, despite all of his stupid, clamoring instincts.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
You too, he sent, then turned back to his laptop.
He wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, but he could work on The Facebook. There was still that.
***
The next morning, Chris found him at his desk and apologized for his outburst the night before, admitting that maybe Dustin had a point and there needed to be more blue spaces on his study schedule. Mark accepted his apology, and, in the interest of preventing future meltdowns, agreed to let him make Mark a schedule, which made Chris’ eyes light up. He was deranged like that.
Not that Mark promised to use the schedule, but he’d at least look it over.
Eduardo continued to send him a barrage of texts over the week, updating Mark on his studying frenzy and his level of caffeine consumption. Mark was strangely tolerant of this, even though from anyone else he’d have considered the updates inane; he didn’t need to know that Eduardo had just memorized the entire geologic time scale using a mnemonic device about the plot of Harry Potter. No one needed to know that. But Mark found he kind of liked knowing anyway. And Mark hadn’t gotten to see a lot of Eduardo since finals started, though Eduardo did as promised show up before his Calc exam with a cup of coffee and a frazzled smile before dashing off again.
Then finally it was the last day of finals and Mark and Dustin were sprinting to their OS exam -of course the hardware had arrived the night before the one final Mark was actually a bit concerned about. He’d still made Dustin help him get the racks set up and the software installed and the systems started. So they were maybe running a bit late the next morning, and that was probably why they literally ran into Eduardo as they rounded a corner. Mark managed to keep his balance, but Eduardo had actually hit an ice patch and toppled over into a mound of slush and now was sitting there making a ridiculously miserable face up at them.
“Goddammit,” Mark said, rubbing his side - he’d rebounded off into a street pole, and shit was definitely going to bruise.
“Oh, fuck me,” Dustin moaned beside him, hands in his hair and practically dancing in place. Mark blinked at him-maybe it was Dustin’s turn for the psychotic break? “We are so, so sorry, you have no idea how sorry, it is beyond human language to convey how sorry-”
Mark ignored him and looked over at Eduardo, who was still sitting in the slush and pouting.
“I’m so embarrassed. I normally have great poise and grace, I promise,” he said sadly, and Mark snorted and leaned down to help him up. Eduardo smiled up at him ruefully, a smudge of dirt on his cheek; Mark unthinkingly rubbed it off with his thumb. Eduardo’s eyes dipped closed for a moment, then opened again, warm and dark. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Not the time. Definitely not the time. He took Eduardo’s hand and helped haul him up to his feet. “Jesus, Wardo, you look like shit.” And he did, with deep circles beneath his eyes and his lips chapped and ragged, and now he was muddy and bedraggled to boot.
“Ow, my feelings,” Eduardo drawled, and then made another exaggeratedly sad face. Then he laughed, and yeah, okay, even the strung-out exams version of Eduardo still looked pretty good. He shook his head, started trying to brush the slush and dirt off his coat. “Fuck, this thing’s a goner.” Dustin made a strangled noise from next to them, and Eduardo glanced over and winced, then continued hastily. “It’s fine, sorry. My fault. I was tired and not looking where I was going - geology exam just let out.”
“How’d you do?” Mark asked immediately, and then remembered how late they were and swore, hiking his bag up on his shoulder. “Fuck, sorry, our exam started fifteen minutes ago. Tell me later. Dustin. Dustin, come on.”
“Text me after?” Eduardo said, and his voice sounded strange, frayed and stressed like overused cable. Probably he was just overtired. Mark flapped a hand absently at him in agreement and started off again at a slightly more sedate pace, so as to prevent further collisions.
Except, fuck. Dustin was still standing there in the same place, staring at Eduardo. Maybe he’d concussed himself on something during their collision - the three of them had been all over the place. Maybe his head had hit the street corner or the ground or something. Mark sighed and backtracked, grabbing Dustin by the arm and tugging him down the street.
“Dude,” Dustin kept hissing at him, trying to slow him down. “Stop, wait! Dude, you know him?”
“Uh, yeah?” Mark said, since apparently Dustin wasn’t going to take silence for an answer. “Wardo. I told you about him. Our first investor.”
“Seriously.” Dustin squeaked. “Seriously?”
Mark shot him a blank look. “Do you know him?”
“Seriously?” Dustin repeated, voice getting higher and more squeaky, which was, to be frank, sort of impressive. “That’s your Prince Charming? The Eric to your Ariel, the street rat to your princess? The Beauty to your Beast?”
“There is actually something wrong with you,” Mark observed aloud, then said exasperatedly when Dustin continued to gape, “He’s just a friend, I told you.” Dustin had stopped again, clutching at a doorframe and goggling at him.
“You didn’t think of once mentioning that your ridiculous coffee crush was-wait. Wait, do you know who he is? Oh, fuck me, you totally don’t.”
Mark frowned at him, but the exam had started twenty minutes ago, so he abandoned Dustin and his nonsensical babble and his apparent love-affair with the door frame, found a free computer, and got started.
***
He finished his exam well before Dustin, who glanced up as Mark was leaving and made a genuinely alarming face at him, vaguely fish-like. Mark paused for a moment, bewildered, then edged out of the room and out of sight. What the fuck had that been about? Mark just wanted to find his way home and collapse on the couch and sleep for at least a few hours before finally, finally being able to get to work.
Also he needed to call Eduardo, see how his own exam went, if he was okay. Plus, he remembered being promised drinks at some point. He could definitely pencil that in.
Chris was there when Mark opened the door; he’d already taken possession of half of the couch. He opened one eye and grunted.
“Yeah,” Mark agreed, and flopped on the couch next to him, staring up at the ceiling. It was nice, and quiet, and he spent what felt like a very short amount of time drifting off before Dustin burst in the door.
“Do you know who our little Mark muffin has been crushing on?” he demanded. Mark sighed. Chris sat up and glared at Dustin.
“Inside voice, we’ve talked about this before-”
“The prince!” Dustin howled.
“What?” Chris said, eyes bulging out.
“He calls him Wardo!” Dustin said, bouncing onto the couch and shoving his way into the space between them. “Have you ever heard anything so precious, it’s seriously a fucking fairytale.”
Oh, Christ. More of this. Sure Eduardo was attractive, but this was just unnecessary levels of excitement. “Go to sleep, Dustin,” Mark said irritably. “Jesus, I bet you bombed the exam. You should email Gordon and tell her you’re sick. Maybe she’ll let you re-take it tomorrow.”
Dustin totally ignored him. “You know how I know this? I know this because we ran into him and he knows Mark’s name .”
“Wait,” Chris said slowly, with an air of dawning horror. “Wait. Oh god, you’re serious.”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Dustin said, wounded, and then winced. “Okay, but no, this is, this is serious. This is Mark actually fucking living in a fucking Disney movie and not knowing it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mark asked, exasperated.
“The Prince. The one that goes to Harvard. Crown Prince Eduardo Saverin. The visiting royalty. Mark. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t know the prince of Brazil is going to school with us?”
Mark took a moment to process this, and then got off the couch. He needed - he needed something to drink. He made his way across the room, sat on the floor and leaned against the mini-fridge for a moment before opening it and rummaging around. He bypassed the Red Bull and took the last beer, then struggled with the top, staring down at it. Screw-top, or did he need a bottle opener? Screw top, right, good-his hand hurt a little, but now it was open.
“Why would I know that?” he asked, taking a swig. “Why the fuck would I care?”
“How the fuck could you not know that?” Chris demanded, and oh, wonderful, when Mark turned around both Dustin and Chris were staring at him with wild eyes. “It’s all people talked this semester! There’s a whole Myspace page set up for Prince Eduardo sightings around campus. Dustin and I talked about it all the time when classes started. You were there.”
“Since when do I listen when people talk about bullshit like that?” Mark said sulkily into the beer bottle, but his cheeks felt hot and he was pouring the beer into an empty, bottomless void where his stomach should be. “And-I mean, in my defense, if you aren’t just fucking with me, Dustin talks about crazy shit and Disney princes all the damn time. So do girls. Princes, I mean. People talk about princes all the time and don’t mean it literally.”
He should go to the computer. Look it up. Confirm what he was hearing. He-it was conceivable that it was true.
Mark had thought he’d found everything important, everything relevant. But he hadn’t done an exhaustive search. He’d known Eduardo wasn’t an internet person, had no blogs attached to his school email, or even his Gmail account, so Mark hadn’t bothered looking further, wasn’t interested in finding more gossip blogs and undergrads crushing on him. He’d just hunted down Eduardo’s class schedule and grades, his email and professors, and, okay, some of the reference letters they’d written, praising Eduardo’s business acumen and professionalism. Eduardo wasn’t in any of the clubs or fraternities or societies.
He hadn’t-it hadn’t occurred to Mark to search for Eduardo outside of who he was at Harvard, as a student. Apparently that had been immensely, incredibly stupid of him. He knew Harvard wasn’t the whole world. Mark knew that, and he’d still been fucking blinkered by it anyway. He was just as bad as the Winkleviis.
“Eduardo’s from Brazil,” he said numbly, staring at their fridge door, feeling weirdly apprehensive. Like if he opened it again Zuul might pop out from between the packets of string cheese and boxes of leftover Chinese, like in Ghostbusters.
Maybe she would, what the fuck did Mark know. Not a lot, apparently.
“Yes, that’s what we’re telling you,” Chris said. “Eduardo is Brazil. I can’t fucking believe you, only fucking you could steal a prince’s laptop and get away with it.”
“Borrow,” Mark corrected absently, still processing, and Chris flung his hands in the air and made an incoherent noise that Mark ignored. “I borrowed it. It was returned.”
It-okay, it made sense. It did. Davi, and the other Davis. Bodyguards. The throngs of people that followed Eduardo everywhere. The way he talked about his family. The royal family. It made sense.
“He didn’t tell me,” Mark said dully, and finished the beer. Chris touched his arm, and Mark registered it dimly, groping for something, anything that would make this less of an idiotic oversight. For some reason he suddenly flashed to the memory of telling Erica that he’d be able to get her into clubs, places she wouldn’t be able to get into on her own. He thought maybe he understood the look on her face, now.
Crown Prince of Brazil.
Fuck. Eduardo must think he was a total fucking idiot.
“Mark. Mark, when’s the last time you slept?” Chris asked, voice softer now. “Look, it’s-okay, it is a big deal, but maybe you should lay down for a while, alright?”
“I’m fine. I have work to do,” Mark protested, glaring, when there was a knock at the door.
Everyone just stared for a moment, then Dustin scrambled to his feet and peered through the peephole.
“It’s him!” he whisper-screeched. “It’s him, and he has beer, and two terrifying looking bodyguard dudes are with him!”
“The Davis,” Mark said, mouth dry. He stood up, feeling dizzy for a moment before he got his balance back. “Open the door.”
“No. No, you cannot let the crown prince of Brazil into this apartment,” Chris insisted, and clung to Mark as Mark tried to make his way over to the door. Mark shook him off disbelievingly. “It hasn’t been cleaned in weeks, it’s-it’s fucking toxic. Mark! Mark, you seriously can’t-”
Mark brushed Dustin aside and opened the door himself, then immediately felt like all the blood in his veins had been replaced with Red Bull. Fizzing and burning. Eduardo smiled hopefully at him, lifting a twelve-pack, and Mark smiled back reflexively.
“Hi. I brought beer. Are you, ah. Busy?” He peeked around Mark, eyes big, and waved tentatively at Dustin and Chris.
“Your highness,” Chris said in a strangled voice, and Eduardo stiffened right in front of Mark’s eyes, like someone’d slipped ice down his collar. The smile had slipped off his face.
“It’s just Wardo,” Mark said without thinking. Chris swore at him, wide-eyed, and Mark thought - fuck, right, it’s not just Wardo- but after a beat passed, Eduardo blinked at Mark, then smiled. Lit up, and he was staring Mark right in the eyes, and it was-yeah.
“Beer!” Dustin said into the silence, and leapt between them, taking hold of the twelve-pack. “You’re too kind, your most royalness. Especially after we knocked you over on the street today. I seriously thought the snipers were going to take us out.”
Snipers. Really?
“I don’t, uh. Actually have snipers?” Eduardo said, after moment of coughing. He had a funny, self-deprecating smile on his face and his bangs had fallen slightly in front of his eyes-his hair was damp, probably from a shower. Dustin already looked enchanted. Chris was slowly unbending, smiling now and seeming more relaxed. Mark stood by the door and watched. “And Davi and Carlos and everyone know Mark, so. I mean, please don’t worry. I don’t have people put to death for running into me on the street, honest.”
He glanced over at Mark and then bit his lip, looked down. “Mark, I-can we talk?”
“Yes,” Mark said, and waited, and Eduardo stared at him. Chris closed his eyes, and said, “His room’s over there, Your Highness. Eduardo. Um.”
“We’ll just be out here drinking beer!” Dustin said cheerfully. “Playing video games. Loud ones! Ow, Chris, what the hell, man.”
Eduardo snorted, and then started for Mark’s room, glancing back at Mark. Mark shrugged.
“I warned you about my roommates.”
“I like them,” Eduardo said, and then over the sound of Dustin complaining and Chris shushing him, he closed the door, and then they were alone again. No, alone for the first time. They’d always been in public places before, with bodyguards or curious students or faculty looking over their shoulders.
Now Mark knew why.
Mark leaned back against the closed door, and Eduardo stared at him, hands in his pockets and lower lip between his teeth.
“Mark,” he said, and Mark folded his arms against his chest and regarded him coolly.
“You wanted to talk. So talk.”
Eduardo winced and looked away, staring down at his feet. “You’re upset.”
“I don’t know what I am,” Mark said after a moment. Even though Mark had been upset just seconds ago, now that he was confronted by Eduardo’s face, the way he was holding himself like he was bracing for a blow, Mark just wanted to reassure, to lie, even, which was ridiculous. “You should have told me.”
“I should have,” Eduardo repeated, nodding, and then started pacing. Mark stayed by the door and watched Eduardo’s long legs devour the room, like he was trying to outrun his own words. “I just-in my defense, I’ve never had to tell anyone, and I didn’t-didn’t know how to bring it up.”
“I -you made me feel so fucking stupid,” Mark bit out, and there, there was the anger. Because Mark wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He was a fucking genius. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d legitimately been this embarrassed, made this much of a mistake about something that was so discrete and unequivocal.
It was almost like high school all over again, that moment when he’d realize there was a spitball in his hair, or that he was the person the group of girls was laughing at in homeroom. No, worse, it was like being invited to the fucking Porcellian and being made to stay in the coat room while Harvard princes dripped condescension all over the place and acted like it was such a giant fucking gesture to the lowly peasant.
It was even worse this time, though, in a weird way, because Mark actually fucking liked Eduardo, and the fact that Eduardo might have been laughing at him behind his back hurt. He didn’t think Eduardo actually would, but just the idea of it made him want to withdraw, lash out. Hide.
Eduardo was staring at him, eyes wide and mouth fallen slightly open, and then he crossed the room in two strides and took Mark’s hand. Not fair. That was dirty pool, and Mark didn’t know how to interpret any of it. His brain crashed and froze and all he could do was stare as he tried to process what was going on, brain looping around the sensation of Eduardo’s skin on his.
“I never-god, you’re the least stupid person I know. It’s stupid, it doesn’t matter. You don’t care about shit like, like celebrities. I like that about you. That’s not stupid. It’s-it’s great. You’re great.”
“I don’t understand you,” Mark said, swallowing and staring down at their linked hands. Eduardo’s fingers were long and tan and curled around his, and Mark had known that the hands were the one of the most sensitive, nerve-filled parts of the body, but he'd never felt it like this before. “You don’t make sense.”
“See, that’s funny to me, because-because I feel like you understand me better than anyone.” Eduardo laughed a little, a broken sound, and dropped his head so that Mark couldn’t see his eyes. “I didn’t want to tell you-I, you looked at me. Like I was a person and not a prince. I didn’t want that to change.”
What? “It’s not like members of royalty are some other species,” Mark interjected, slightly annoyed, and Eduardo laughed again. But this time the laugh was a better thing to hear, brighter. He was looking at Mark now, looking down at him and smiling like Mark was a Dell Poweredge rack-mounted server, like Mark was a signed check for everything he’d ever wanted.
“God, that’s-you’re amazing.”
“I still feel like an idiot,” Mark muttered, feeling his cheeks get a hot. Which, okay, he was fucking amazing, but not at-not at stuff like this. He was amazing with computers, not people. But Eduardo wasn’t laughing at him.
“Please don’t,” Eduardo said earnestly, and then seemed to realize he was still holding Mark’s hand, because he let it go and flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-knew the longer I waited, the harder it would get, but, I. God, Mark. I really like you, and I’m a coward, because. Because it’s so complicated, and once you knew, I’d have to-to face that. I didn’t want to.”
“You like me,” Mark repeated slowly. Most of the resentment and embarrassment had faded and now there was just a low thrum of anticipation. Eduardo liked him. “Okay. So now you’ve told me. You’re a prince. Great. So can we just-I can kiss you now, right?” He hesitated while Eduardo stared at him. “I mean. You do want to, I’m not just a total fucking idiot?
He had to be sure, even though Eduardo had been holding his hand for the better part of the conversation, and staring at Mark’s mouth, and licking his lips, and generally broadcasting ‘kiss me’ loud enough that Mark was a little surprised Dustin hadn’t burst into the room with confetti and started singing that stupid Little Mermaid song.
“Yes,” Eduardo said, and Mark smiled triumphantly. But Eduardo was still talking, words tripping over themselves. “Yes, fuck, I want to so much, you have no idea-But that’s why, I. Mark, I’m the prince of Brazil. My father would… I can’t-I can’t be seen dating a guy.”
“Okay,” Mark said slowly, and shoved his stupidly cold hand in his hoodie pocket. “I-right. That makes sense. Catholic country, backwards. Right.”
Eduardo closed his eyes. “You don’t deserve to be a dirty secret, Mark. I can’t ask that of you. You deserve to be, to be taken out, and kissed in public. I don’t want you to have to hide, and-”
Well, Mark clearly wasn’t the only idiot in the room. Fuck this. He hauled Eduardo in by his collar and dragged him down.
For all his self-sacrificing noble words, Eduardo immediately opened his mouth for Mark, made a low, delighted noise and wrapped a hand in Mark’s hair and another around Mark’s waist and pulled him in closer.
“You’re so-” Eduardo moaned into his mouth. “God, Mark, you tried to steal me an exam.”
“Yeah,” Mark said, and bit at Eduardo’s lower lip. “I can still do that. If you want, I can change your grades. I can-”
Eduardo made a desperate, needy noise, and took Mark’s face in his hands and backed him against the door. Mark tipped his head back and Eduardo pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his throat as Mark panted at the ceiling and considered whether or not he was limber enough to get a leg around Eduardo’s waist.
“Okay. Yes. I accept,” Mark said to the ceiling tiles, and then breathed out in a startled rush when Eduardo sucked hard on his collarbone, a bright rush of almost-pain that, wow-wow, that really did it for him, he wanted more of that immediately.
“Sorry, what?” Eduardo said, pulling back to look at him. His mouth was red and wet and used, and Mark wanted to taste it again immediately, or to see it other places. Or to feel it on his cock. God, that would be amazing.
“I’ll be your dirty secret boyfriend,” Mark said. “I don’t mind.”
There was a high-pitched noise of glee from the other side of the door, and Mark and Eduardo froze.
“Goddammit, Dustin,” he heard Chris hiss. Jesus fuck, what was wrong with them?
“I told you,” Mark said, glaring at the door. “I tried to warn you. They’re demented. Go the fuck away, Dustin!” he yelled, and kicked at the door for emphasis. There was a bit of grumbling and Dustin shouting something congratulatory about lovebirds, and then they were, hopefully, gone, or at least farther away. “Sorry about that.”
“I don’t mind,” Eduardo murmured, with what Mark objectively knew was a stupidly goofy smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of it as anything but incredible. “They’re your friends, I trust them.” Mark looked at him, because seriously? Eduardo shrugged, lopsided. “I guess like people knowing? I wish everyone could know.”
Mark’s chest felt stupidly tight. He had to kiss him for that, except Eduardo kept trying to talk. “But Mark, listen. Are you sure? I mean, just… you have to be sure. It’s-it’ll be hard, and there’s a lot of issues we’ll have to, we need to plan-”
So Mark had to kiss him again to shut him up before he started moping again about how hard it was to be a prince, which Mark suspected there would be enough of in the future. Also, well. He was there, and Mark wanted to kiss him. Eduardo was a good kisser, and his hands were in Mark’s hair, and it was almost as good as getting the servers online. The Facebook would be up soon and Eduardo was kissing him. Life was good.
Except then Eduardo disentangled himself from Mark. His breath was coming fast and his eyes were all pupil, and clearly he was having as good as time as Mark was but for some reason he was moving away, what the fuck.
“Come on, we should-we should go have a beer with Dustin and Chris,” Eduardo said, tugging at Mark’s hand.
“What? No. We should have sex.”
Eduardo choked on a laugh. “Mark, that’d be rude,” he chided, eyes shining. “Your friends are out there, I haven’t even really talked to them yet.” He paused and bit his lip, looked at Mark from beneath his lashes. “We can, uh, later, though. If you want.”
“Did I not make that adequately clear, your highness?” Mark asked dryly, and stepped forward into Eduardo’s space, took Eduardo’s hand and brought it down to the waist of his pants, sucked in a breath and when Eduardo dragged it further down. “Because if you need further proof, I have-god, yeah, there.” He bucked up into Eduardo’s touch. “Yeah. I really fucking want.”
“No, seriously, Mark, we should-” Eduardo murmured, but he was watching Mark’s face and his own eyes were glassy. “God, you look good.” Then he shook himself and it was like watching a Jekyll and Hyde movie, seeing Eduardo pull himself back together, transforming from a kiss-mussed guy to this smooth, collected person, all buttoned-up and professional-looking. A prince. Shit. “We’ve waited this long, come on, Mark. I want your friends to like me.”
“I hate you,” Mark said and took a moment to adjust his pants before following Eduardo resentfully into the living room. “Shouldn’t that matter more?”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Dustin said from the couch where he was guiding Yoshi around a curve. “He loooves you. He doodles your name on all his notebooks.”
“I do not,” Mark said, affronted, and flopped onto one of the chairs, then startled when Eduardo folded himself next to him, draped over the armrest and beaming, handing him an open beer. “I, uh. I really don’t. That’d be insipid.”
“Right, totally,” Eduardo said, and snuck a hand into Mark’s hair, which Mark suspected was also sort of insipid, except it felt awesome, so he just pushed his head back into Eduardo’s fingers and shut up. “Mario Kart, fantastic,” Eduardo said brightly into the video-game tinted silence of Chris and Dustin staring at them-Dustin in delight and Chris in a familiar fugue of alarm. “My sister and I love this game. It got really, ah, heated sometimes. She broke a television once when I used a red shell on her.”
“No shit?” Chris laughed, looking fascinated. A person, not just a prince, Mark remembered Eduardo saying. And now Eduardo looked relaxed and happy the way he’d never seen him before, out here with Mark’s friends, getting handed a video controller and joking about buying them all a replacement TV if it came down to it.
Fine. Maybe Wardo had been right. They could have sex later. For now he’d just watch his boyfriend beat his roommates to a pulp for a couple rounds because they were too afraid to play dirty, where Eduardo, for once, was not.
The first time Dustin called Eduardo a fucking rat red shell bastard, Eduardo fucking glowed.
Mark snuck a hand into Wardo’s hair, settled back, and watched the game.
***
Mark woke slowly, strangely warm and content. He registered the soft loop of the Nintendo music in the background first, then Eduardo’s fingers in his hair. His face was pressed in Eduardo’s neck; that was mildly embarrassing. He hoped he hadn’t been drooling, or snoring, or saying stupid shit in his sleep. Part of him wanted sit up and check, but a larger part wanted to stay curled up and warm and drift back into unconsciousness. He was so tired.
“Yeah, the first run-through caught some errors,” Chris was saying softly. “And it’s still taking more processing power than we expected.”
“Should we let him know? Wake him up?” Eduardo’s voice, a low rumbling thrum beneath Mark’s skin. He liked that.
“I dunno, he hasn’t slept in like, three days. But I guess he has to get up eventually, you can’t spend all night in that chair. It can’t be comfortable.”
“I don’t mind.”
Mark smiled automatically, turning his face into Wardo’s pulse. Then he fully processed the rest of the conversation and stiffened, jolted electrically into full consciousness.
Their test run was complete. There was code to fix. Fuck sleep.
“It’s ready?” he said thickly, and tried to stand up; Eduardo caught him and drew him back down before he could topple over. Mark scowled at him and made a half-hearted effort to get back to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes. “What errors?”
Eduardo was laughing at him, the fucker. Mark scowled and Eduardo shrugged, still smiling.
“Knew the laptop withdrawal symptoms would hit you eventually,” he teased, and Mark fought the urge to stick out his tongue.
“Here, princess,” Dustin said cheerfully, and handed Mark his open laptop. “You’re welcome, no movement required.”
Mark eyed him balefully for a brief moment, but Dustin had chosen his timing well. Mark was far too absorbed with the numbers in front of him to lodge a complaint about being called a princess. He settled back into Eduardo’s arms and started opening windows, checking CPU and memory drain.
“This is wrong,” he muttered. “The lag time is hideous, this is bad.” He gnawed on a hoodie string and tried to figure out where they were going wrong. He didn’t want to go back to the basic code. God. That would be fucking-brutal. That would be the worst. Then Eduardo’s finger came out of nowhere and startled him, tapping lightly on the screen, and Mark jumped slightly.
“I don’t know much about computers, but that second algorithm is crazy inefficient,” Eduardo said into his ear, warm and thoughtful, and Mark shivered.
“What?” he said dumbly. Shit, he needed a Red Bull.
“Chris and me just cobbled something together,” Dustin admitted from somewhere outside the warm bubble of laptop and armchair and Wardo. “We got one of the math guys from AePi to look it over, they said it was decent.”
“Hmm,” Eduardo said, and Mark let him take the laptop from his fingers, watching in a daze as Eduardo bit his lip, eyes sharpening as he typed out a few equations.
“Try that,” he said, handing the computer back, and by then Mark was totally, incredibly awake.
“That’s-that’s good,” he said, and dragged his eyes away from Eduardo’s mouth to the screen. “Fuck, Wardo, that’s brilliant.”
He wasn’t used to this, to having to force himself to focus. He rewrote the program to incorporate Eduardo’s algorithm as quickly as possible, ignoring the buzz of conversation around them. He fixed a few of the most obvious coding bugs, then set the laptop down on the coffee table.
“Run it again,” he told Chris, and then hauled Eduardo to his feet. “Come get me when it’s done.”
He started dragging Eduardo towards his room, then paused in the doorway. “Will the Davis be upset?”
“What?” Eduardo laughed, bemused. He was rubbing his thumb against the back of Mark’s hand and smiling, one of those smiles that was mostly in his eyes and only slightly in the curve of his lips. Mark nearly lost the thread of his thought, his thought that Eduardo might be missed and a SWAT team might descend on them the next morning and the ‘dirty secret’ part of this relationship would probably become less secret and more public.
“If you spend the night. Do you need to go? I want to fuck you, but if you need to go-”
Eduardo’s smile dropped off his face and his eyes went huge, and Mark had a dizzying moment of pure doubt before the smile came back, bigger than ever, wide and white with teeth. Mark barely heard Dustin’s gleeful shout and Chris’ moan, could barely hear anything but his own heartbeat in his ears.
“No, uh. I told them I’d be here late,” Eduardo said, bright red but still beaming. “They’re-they won’t say anything. It’s not a problem. I mean, I’ll-I have to go places, in the morning, but it’s--yeah.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and Eduardo’s cheeks were bright red, but his breath was coming quicker and his smile was brilliant.
“Good,” Mark said, pleased, and licked his teeth and smiled.
Eduardo visibly shivered, and then dragged Mark the last few steps into the room. As an apparent afterthought, he called over his shoulder. “Night, guys! Thanks for the game.”
“Bed him well, your highness. Bed him well!” Dustin hollered back before there was the distinct sound of someone being forcefully beaten with a pillow.
Mark rolled his eyes and slammed the door closed, then immediately started tugging off his hoodie, swearing as his head got caught in the neck.
“Jesus, Mark, slow down, you’ll choke yourself,” Eduardo said, laughing, and helped him pull it the rest of the way off. Normally Mark would have objected, or been annoyed, because he didn’t need the help, obviously, it was just a fucking shirt that was a size too small that he didn’t feel like getting rid of because it was otherwise perfectly fine. Except, well. It was Eduardo, and he was laughing, and it was definitely at Mark, but it didn’t feel mean. Just… happy.
And then, what the fuck, he was actually folding Mark’s hoodie, setting it carefully on a chair. Because god forbid Mark’s Milford High sweatshirt get wrinkled. Mark was torn between the urge to laugh incredulously and the desire to tackle Eduardo to the bed and kiss the living hell out of him, because god, that was just so-
He shucked off his t-shirt and pants, and kicked them aside, then advanced on Eduardo, who was staring at him with a gratifyingly dazed expression. Mark got in his space and Eduardo’s hands found his waist and tugged him in, and it already felt so fucking good, just having Eduardo’s fingers on his bare skin, stroking along his sides.
“Hi,” Eduardo said, smiling down at him, wide and goofy, and Mark was temporarily distracted from ridding him of his shirt with all its stupidly small buttons.
“You’re really attractive,” Mark said, and then made an impatient noise into the ensuing kiss. “The goal here is nudity. I’m assisting, but you could lend a hand. Take your pants off.”
“I-Mark,” Eduardo said, biting his lower lip. “I-there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Oh, Christ,” Mark said reflexively, and Eduardo looked blank for a moment, then laughed.
“No, I mean, it’s nothing like that. You’ve already heard the worst, honestly.”
“So having sex is still imminent,” Mark clarified, and Eduardo made a really bizarre face, like he was laughing and wincing at once.
“That’s sort of the thing. I, uh, sort of… haven’t before?” Mark’s jaw dropped. What?
“What?” he got out, and Eduardo winced, this time for real.
“With a guy, I mean. There’ve been girls. Well.” He coughed. “A girl.”
Mark stared. “Seriously? But… you’re, look at you.” Eduardo’s shirt was open now, hanging loosely, and his body was golden and toned and he had that face, and mouth, and it didn’t make sense. “I mean. Why not?”
“It’s a big risk,” Eduardo shrugged, and his fingers were tense on Mark’s sides, which Mark could get used to in other contexts, but in this one wasn’t so pleasant. “Especially with guys, that they’d sell the story, or-I don’t know. Girls, too. The whole prince thing, and wanting to get pregnant, and it’s not-it’s not easy.”
“Okay,” Mark said, processing. “Right. So I’ll be gentle.” His mouth quirked a little as Eduardo glared.
“Fuck you,” Eduardo said, but he was laughing despite his attempts to scowl, and Mark grinned and went back to divesting Eduardo of his pants.
“No, really,” Mark continued, and worked the shirt off Eduardo’s shoulder, tossed it over the back of a chair where it wouldn’t wrinkle. “I’ll make it good. Take it slow. And people, people have said I’ve got good fingers, so.”
“I’ve noticed. I like your hands,” Eduardo murmured, voice husky, and caught one of Mark’s hands on his belt and drew it to his mouth, kissed the fingertips. “And I don’t want to go slow. I just thought you should, uh. Know.”
“I’ll be your first,” Mark said smugly, and started walking Eduardo towards the bed, pushed him down on it. “I like that.”
Eduardo made a pleased, low sound and dragged him into a wet kiss. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Yeah, I like that, too.”
Then he was flipping Mark over and pressing him into the sheets, kissing down Mark’s chest, and Mark blinked. “No, wait, I-”
“I’ve really wanted to-I just, Mark, can I?”
“Of course you can, Jesus,” Mark said, and pushed down gently on Eduardo’s head, pushing him downwards. “I planned on starting with you, but you know, I’m nineteen, I think I’ll get it up again pretty easily, and really, maybe it’s better to take the edge off anyw-oh, oh, fuck, Wardo, yeah, like that.”
“Like that?” Eduardo asked, looking up at him from beneath his lashes and then mouthing the head of Mark’s cock again, mouth red and wet and shiny, and oh god, it was definitely good to take the edge off. Mark was already about to come, just from this, all over Eduardo’s gorgeous fucking face.
“Yes,” he said faintly, and tried to keep from bucking his hips. He loosened his fingers in Eduardo’s hair, went to grip the sheets instead, but Eduardo caught his wrists and drew his hands back.
“No, I like it-you can, uh, move my head. Just-not too deep at first, okay?”
“God,” Mark said thickly, awed. “Look at you, fuck. You’ve been-you’ve been thinking about this, Jesus, Wardo. Fuck. That’s my cock in your mouth, and you -you look like you love it. Do you? Wardo, do you?”
Eduardo made a humming sound of agreement, eyes dark, and god, he was going to town, wet and hungry, noisy. He pulled off now and again to nuzzle at Mark’s stomach, panting, before diving back, like he couldn’t get enough. Mark had had better blowjobs, technically, but it turned out enthusiasm was way more of a turn-on than he’d realized. Watching Eduardo taste him and moan around him and try to take him down as far as he could was probably the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and feeling it was even better.
Even the edge of teeth felt good. He told Eduardo so, and Eduardo smiled around him and then drew his mouth back up in a long, smooth line, a continuous careful scrape of his teeth, and Mark said, choked, “Oh god, Wardo, I’ll come, I’ll-”
“Mmhmm,” Eduardo hummed, and that was it, game fucking over.
“Jesus, Jesus,” Mark said, hand over his eyes, shaking with it and feeling totally boneless for a moment. Then he dragged Eduardo up and kissed the come away from the edge of his mouth, his chin. “You’re so-that was amazing.”
“Yeah?” Eduardo said over him, kissing him back, barely letting him get the sentence out. “God, good, I wanted you to-I wanted it to be good. You taste so good, Mark.”
“So, your turn.”
“Are we keeping score?” Eduardo laughed, but he immediately rolled over when Mark pushed at his hip. He was still in his pants, and Mark worked them down over his calves, remembering at the last second to make an approximation of folding them before getting back on the bed.
Eduardo was stretched out on his bed, golden and perfect, and there were tanlines. Mark wanted to put his mouth on them, but he had to take a moment just to stare.
“I’ll make it good for you,” he said, and his voice came out shaky, because, god, he really-he wanted it to be good for Eduardo. He’d done this with girlfriends, before, and they’d loved it, and it couldn’t be that different with a guy. He palmed Eduardo’s ass, and Eduardo made a small motion backwards, into his hand, and yeah, getting hard again was not going to be a problem. He pressed a kiss to the small of Eduardo’s back, and then fumbled in the bedside drawer to find the lube.
“I, ah, I’m clean,” he said, fumbling the cap open. “In case you wondered, so, I mean. I know it’s better to use a condom, but if you…?”
“I am, too,” Eduardo said after a moment. “So, ah. Yeah. If you want?”
“I want,” Mark said, and kissed the lighter line of skin again, mouth open, and lined up his fingers. At the first touch, Eduardo made a tiny noise, tensing, then settled again as Mark kept kissing his lower back, tonguing the vertebrae. “So good, Wardo. It’ll be good. Yeah. Relax, like that.”
“I-I thought about this, too,” Eduardo confessed, voice thick. He had his head turned, neck arched, trying to watch Mark, and it was somehow incredibly hot, seeing the red flush of his cheek and the way he was biting his lower lip.
“Did you do this?” Mark asked, and pressed in another finger. Jesus, Wardo was tight. And hot, and slick with lube, and soon he’d be slick with Mark’s come, and it was going to be fantastic.
“Yes,” Eduardo hissed, and Mark crooked his fingers and he made a startled sound and pushed back, eyes falling shut. “Oh god, but this-is better. God.”
“Yeah, it’s always better when it’s someone else, isn’t it?” Mark said thoughtfully, and got a steady rhythm going, watched his fingers disappearing inside Eduardo, pressing places no one else got to touch, to feel. “You look so fucking hot.”
“You feel-god, you’re-”
“Seriously, you’re just-“ Mark bent his head and mouthed the place where his fingers met Eduardo’s skin.
“Mark, what are you-oh god, Mark-” The sounds Eduardo was making were fucking incredible, dazed and unabashedly loud, desperate and choked, so Mark dipped his tongue in alongside his fingers and Eduardo started moaning in earnest, trying to say Mark’s name.
He added another finger and sped up, and Eduardo bucked his hips and said, “Mark,” and shuddered, his back arching.
Mark slowed and lifted his head smugly, wiped at the lube on his mouth. “You just came, didn’t you?”
Eduardo panted something at him, totally limp and sweaty, and Mark grinned. “It gets better,” he promised, and said, “You’re doing so good, are you ready?”
“Fuck me already,” Eduardo growled finally, and got up on his hands and knees, glaring over his shoulder. His hair was a sweaty, tangled mess, falling in his eyes, and he looked fucking amazing. “Unless you can’t get it up yet.”
Mark snorted and slicked himself up. “Did you see yourself? I’d have to be dead.”
Eduardo’s face melted from mock-anger into a smile, and Mark wasn’t sure what about what he’d said had made him light up like that, look so happy, but he was glad anyway.
“Ready?” he asked, and Eduardo rolled his eyes and started to say something, but then Mark started pressing in and he trailed off, eyes huge and dark. “Yeah, it’s bigger than fingers. Breathe. Relax, you’re doing so-god, yeah, so good, Wardo. Like that. Let me in.”
It was incredibly hard not just-letting go, because it was really, insanely good. Hot and tight and it was Eduardo, and he was shaking, a fine tremble beneath Mark’s palms.
“Is it good?” he asked hoarsely, and Eduardo made a wordless noise and moved a tiny bit, experimentally, back and forth, and Jesus, this wasn’t going to last long. “Can I?”
“You’re all talk, Mark,” Eduardo said, and pushed back again, harder this time. “If you’re going to-oh, if you’re going to fuck me, you should-god, yeah.”
“As your majesty commands,” Mark said, aiming for dry and coming closer to breathless, and did.
“You’re a bastard,” Eduardo groaned, and pillowed his head on his arms and moved with him, and it was just-so fucking good. “I didn’t-I didn’t know it would, would be like this.”
“Good?” Mark asked, and kissed his shoulder, tasted salt.
“God, yeah, it’s-so good, oh god, Mark. I’m-I’m glad it’s you.”
“Yeah,” Mark echoed. “You’re so good, with the algorithms, it was so fucking, fucking hot, Eduardo, I wanted to just-right there, in the living room. In the chair.”
“Mark,” Eduardo said helplessly, and turned his head and kissed him, sloppy and wet, biting at his mouth.
“I can’t-I can’t-“ Mark got out, in between breaths, into Eduardo’s mouth. “Oh, god, you have to come, Wardo, you have to come now, before I-”
He took a hand off Wardo’s hip and got it underneath them, wrapped it around Wardo’s cock and just, he couldn’t even keep rhythm anymore, but apparently he didn’t need to because Eduardo just moaned into Mark’s cheek and came, all over his hand. And that was it, Mark was done.
He collapsed on top of Eduardo’s back and just lay there, dazed and a little smug, basking in the sound of Eduardo’s ragged breathing.
“Two for two,” he said muzzily, and kissed Eduardo’s neck.
“Goal,” Eduardo mumbled into the pillow, and then shifted a little, and Mark got off him, pulling out carefully. He took a moment to press a finger inside again, feel the slickness, and Eduardo made a startled noise, half-moan and half-laugh.
“Mine,” Mark murmured without thinking, and Eduardo said, quiet and contented-sounding, “Yeah. Okay.”
Mark stared at him, breath caught and lodged in his throat. Eduardo looked more than half asleep, so Mark said, “Good,” and found some Kleenex to wipe them both down before turning off the light and crawling back in the bed.
The rest of the world could wait until tomorrow.
***
PART THREE