I'm Alright (I Just Forget You All the Time) (4/4)
PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | ART + FANMIX
Except the nap doesn’t last very long, because someone is pounding on his neighbor’s door with what must be all their intensity, and it rouses him from sleep. They’re also calling something, which is even more annoying. God, why won’t they just let them in already. Eduardo moves to cover his head with a pillow and muffle the noise, but as he shifts he can hear it, distinct.
The voice is calling, “Wardo, Wardo!” And it… it sounds like Mark.
Eduardo jolts up in his seat, rubbing his eyes blearily. He tries to slow his breathing as he rubs a hand haphazardly through his hair, mussed up from the small amount of sleep he got. “Coming!” he calls as he pushes himself off the couch and jogs for the door.
He flings it open and there he is. Mark’s face is stained with a red, angry blush and he seems out of breath, which Eduardo assumes is probably from the yelling. He opens his mouth and promptly snaps it shut, glaring past Eduardo and pushing his way inside.
“Mark,” Eduardo says, not sure if he’s starting an apology or an explanation as he closes the door and turns around to face Mark, who’s standing about five feet directly in front of him. The words die in his mouth when he sees Mark’s expression. It’s not upset or frantic like before, he just looks blown apart. Like this is all too much and he can’t believe it’s happening.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” Mark says breathlessly, eyes searching and lips tilted up into a helpless, lopsided smile.
Eduardo’s brow furrows and he opens his mouth to respond (though, not to argue, because he agrees and he basically said as much on the voicemails), but he doesn’t get the chance before Mark is crossing the room in three quick strides and kissing him.
They hurdle backward until Eduardo can feel himself hit the door, and he bumps his head against it a little but can’t even be bothered to care because Mark is kissing him. Mark is kissing him. And it’s not just that, Mark is kissing him desperately, possessively-like he wants this and he’s thought about it before and he’s kissing Eduardo like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.
And Eduardo feels exactly the same. He lets out a soft keening noise at the back of his throat, settling his hands on Mark’s hips and using that leverage to pull him closer. Mark rakes his fingers through Eduardo’s hair and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into Eduardo’s mouth in a way that makes Eduardo catch his breath and dig his nails in a little deeper.
It feels so good, so good to be doing this with Mark, after so many broken nights of fumbling around with other people for the next best thing, the closest approximation of this-but Eduardo knows now that nothing else even came close. It doesn’t even compare; nothing else ever could, because this is on a whole other level, to get something that you’ve wanted and hoped and wished for after so long that you’d almost given up. Eduardo would almost believe that this was a dream, if not for his senses, so completely overwhelmed by the smell and feel and taste of Mark, which is better and more real than any dream.
Mark pulls back eventually because unfortunately, oxygen is needed for continued survival, but Eduardo lets out a whimper and tips his head forward, seeking Mark’s lips again, dazed and unable to let go. “Wardo,” Mark murmurs brokenly against his lips, just a puff of breath.
“I know,” he whispers back inanely, just as overcome, before anchoring a hand on Mark’s neck and swallowing up whatever he was going to say in another kiss and sucking Mark’s lower lip into his mouth. He tastes like overly sweet like… like Red Vines, Eduardo realizes, smiling into the kiss at the thought. Mark’s hands move to bracket Eduardo’s ribs, kissing back for a moment before moving downward to kiss Eduardo’s neck, mouthing at his jawline along the way. “Fuck,” Eduardo exhales, drawn out and fervent as he drags a hand through Mark’s unruly curls. He knows Mark hears it because Mark stops trying to give him a hickey and smiles against the skin there like he’s won.
“I would, but I don’t want to impugn your virtue or anything,” Mark quips, drawing back so Eduardo can see his face, lips red and puffier than usual from kissing but still pulled up into their signature smirk.
Eduardo laughs, letting his head fall back and rest against the door. Because yeah, the joke helped. Everything seems a lot less big and overwhelming now, because it’s still them. It’s still Mark and Eduardo, and sure, now they’re Mark and Eduardo, but they’re themselves too.
“Mark,” he breathes, trying for conversation again, hearing the way the word comes out awed and disbelieving but at least it comes out.
The smirk slips off Mark’s face, which is unfortunate, but it’s also important because they do need to talk about this if they want to give it any sort of a fighting chance.
“Those voicemails,” he says lowly, shaking his head a little and not meeting Eduardo’s eyes, “Wardo, I… you should know that I, um-I really…” He meets Eduardo’s eyes, intensely blue and full of bravery, clearing his throat and starting again. “When I said I care about you, what I meant was-Wardo, I’m in love with you.”
Eduardo exhales and drops his forehead onto Mark’s shoulder. Because it’s not like he hasn’t imagined it, and now it’s happening and he just needs a moment.
“I’ve, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I also love you, and I want you to be okay,” he continues, giving his hands on Mark’s hips a quick squeeze. “Because I know what it’s like not to be okay, and it sucks.”
The last part comes out wobbly, and Mark’s voice is a little higher than usual. Eduardo’s known Mark for long enough that he can interpret what that means, knows that’s how Mark sounds when he’s nervous about something. Eduardo lifts his head and looks at Mark, a little confused but mostly just surprised.
“Elaine was my therapist,” Mark gets out in a rush, and Eduardo feels himself start a little at the words. “I don’t know what exactly you went through, Wardo, but I was in a really bad place after the depositions too, and… and I wanted to see someone. So Chris looked around for someone I could talk to, and eventually he found Elaine and-yeah,” Mark finishes, voice low and strained, like it’s hard to talk about.
“Mark,” Eduardo whispers, voice cracking. “I don’t-I don’t know what to say.”
A dark flush is high on Mark’s cheeks, and Eduardo caresses it lightly with his thumb. He just wants to make it go away. “Thank you for telling me,” he murmurs, tilting up Mark’s chin. “And… thank you for being so amazing with me, always, through just-everything. It must have been hard for you.”
Mark lets out another shaky sigh and squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment. “And,” Eduardo adds, thrilling inside that he gets to say it now, “Mark, I love you too. I love you so much, Mark-” he says, but is cut off when Mark kisses his again, letting out a happy sigh against Eduardo’s lips as he pulls back.
“I’m glad,” Mark admits, and Eduardo allows himself a smile before pressing back in and connecting their lips again.
//
Not much changes at first.
They go to dinner and the movies and hang out with Chris or Dustin-and okay, so maybe Dustin was right, their old activities were incredibly date-like, whatever-but still. It’s good now, to go out and get to hold Mark’s hand, or kiss him comfortable, easy whenever they want, regardless of whether or not they’re in public.
And everyone is so happy for them. Chris and Dustin of course, for obvious reasons, but other people too-Mark’s parents and a couple of Eduardo’s friends from work, and Elaine too. Elaine’s very happy for both of them, actually. She gives Eduardo a hug when he tells her, and congratulates him. (“It only makes sense,” she teases, “that the two patients I’ve had that are the worst with communicating would end up together.” Eduardo thinks that kind of makes sense too.)
Speaking of Elaine, Eduardo’s still seeing her. He’s doing well, possibly even better than before.
It’s because of Mark, but at the same time, it isn’t. It’s not like Mark fixed him or anything ridiculous like that, of course not-Eduardo was getting better before he and Mark figured it out, and that hasn’t changed. He knows he’s responsible for his own happiness now, and he’s taking advantage of that.
But at the same time, it’s Mark, who’s gone through the same things Eduardo has and has encountered the same bumps in the road… And it’s good to have someone to talk to who’s been there, through all of it. Who’s been through smashed laptops and icy depositions and hating yourself and life-changing moments, just the same as Eduardo, and is going to be there for so much more. To know that someone else has felt the same things, thought the same things, lived the same things. Because Eduardo is not alone. He’s starting to realize he never was.
//
And then things do change.
There’s a moment where they go from being them to being them, and it’s much more subdued than any declaration of love or any first date, any kiss or any public moment.
They’ve been dating for about a month, and it’s just the two of them, lying curled up together fully clothed in Eduardo’s bed, falling asleep in the purest sense of the phrase. Eduardo is in that hazy limbo between being asleep and being awake, fighting to keep his eyes open and losing the battle-when he feels Mark move his head from the space where it is nuzzled between Eduardo’s head and his shoulder. Mark presses his nose to Eduardo’s shoulder blade, which feels cold even through his dress shirt, and then kisses the same spot softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the dark. That’s all-no explanation or elaboration, just two simple words that say so much more. Eduardo knows just what Mark means.
And it’s...
During the depositions, Eduardo used to fantasize about the apology. He had unrealistic expectations of it; he thought it would fix everything sometimes, and sometimes he was so angry he thought it would just fuel his fire-he would think about looking at Mark and saying nothing in response, just out of spite.
In reality, it’s none of those things, and Eduardo is glad. He’s glad that bitter, confused person never got the apology, because they wouldn’t have known how to handle it. Eduardo gets it now, and he knows just what to do with it.
He hums a little in response, reaching down to fumble for Mark’s hand and tangle their fingers together. “I know,” he replies just as softly, not even bothering to turn around. “I’m sorry too.”
He hears Mark let out a breath and Eduardo gives their hands a squeeze, letting his eyes slide close easy now.
It changes things because it doesn’t change things. Eduardo doesn’t need to forgive Mark now, because he already has. He doesn’t quite know when-somewhere between a screaming match in a hotel suite and tightly held hands in the corner of his living room-but it happened a long time ago, and now their words are just sealing it over, making it concrete and explicit and simple. It changes things because this is the moment when Eduardo realizes he never wants to give this up, just as it is. Not for anything.
//
So they are getting better at communicating, Eduardo thinks, if something he agonized about and lost sleep over a year ago is now as simple as two murmured words in the middle of the night.
Another example is about a month or so after that. They’re on a date in a fancy Italian restaurant that’s one of Eduardo’s favorites. They alternate choosing where to go, most of the time, which means that Eduardo’s choices usually involve getting at least a little dressed up and a wine list while Mark’s include flip flops and a movie and possibly In-N-Out Burger. But Eduardo loves both ends of the spectrum, so he’s not complaining.
As soon as they sit down, Eduardo nudges Mark’s foot under the table. Mark looks up at him in surprise, and Eduardo blushes and smiles and generally feels like a giddy teenager. But this expression sort of works, because Mark melts underneath it a little and blushes too, nudging Eduardo’s foot right back.
They’ve ordered the wine and are still perusing their menus when Eduardo toes off a shoe to sneak his socked foot under Mark’s pant leg and rub over his ankle. Mark starts a bit, and Eduardo shrugs when he looks at him. Sure, they’re essentially playing footsie under the table, but who cares?
But Mark clears his throat, blush darkening and sitting up a little straighter, his face very determined and his grip on the menu white-knuckled at this point. Eduardo’s brow furrows, wondering how he’s managed to ruin the moment. “Mark-”
Of course the waiter chooses that moment to show up, bringing them their drinks. Mark thanks him bluntly and exhales all at once, harsh, as the waiter leaves. He sets his menu down decisively as Eduardo takes a sip of his wine, and finally looks up at Eduardo with a carefully blank expression. “Are you ever going to have sex with me?”
Eduardo spits out his wine.
Which of course only makes things worse, since the waiter hurries over to ask if everything’s alright, and Eduardo has to assure him that they’re fine and wave him away even though he’s coughing and practically puce at this point. Mark’s certainly not doing it, just shooting the waiter vaguely annoyed looks for no other apparent reason than existing, and so it’s another minute or two until they’re able to get back to their conversation.
“Mark,” Eduardo finally hisses when it’s just the two of them again. “Do we really have to have this conversation right now-”
“Yes,” Mark replies, looking at Eduardo like he’s stupid and not lowering his voice at all. “Just, we’ve been dating for two months now, and that’s a perfectly acceptable amount of time, okay, and I don’t want to rush you or anything, but it’s kind of been a long time-”
“How long?” Eduardo asks, momentarily distracted by his curiosity at Mark’s words.
Mark blush goes even darker, and Eduardo takes another gulp of his wine. He figures he’s going to need it to make it through this conversation. “A year and a half,” he mutters.
Eduardo chokes on his wine again and sputters, though at least this time he manages to be more discreet about it since no one rushes to help him. Still, they’re never going to be able to go to this restaurant again without Eduardo’s face discovering new shades of red. Once he’s composed himself, he leans in over the table and squeaks, “Why?”
“Because,” Mark says, voice coming out slightly whiney and mostly frustrated. “I was so… messed up during the depositions, and so I just stopped, and then I started seeing Elaine and she thought I should continue, that um-celibacy might be good for me.”
He looks at Eduardo with brutally honest eyes. Eduardo knows it’s probably hard for Mark to say-he’s not a talker, when something’s wrong, he’s a thinker-so Eduardo tries to look back with as much understanding as possible.
But Mark is impatient and starts rambling again. “But, but now there’s us, and Wardo, I-I really want this.”
Eduardo swallows and tries to get his head to stop spinning. “Mark,” he starts, reaching over and fiddling with the fingers on the hand Mark has resting on the table. He takes another deep breath. This really isn’t the ideal place to talk about it, but if Mark wants to talk… Eduardo’s never been really good at stopping him.
“Mark, when I was in… a really bad place, um. Sex-it caused a lot of problems for me. So since I started therapy with Elaine I haven’t slept with anyone either. And, and with us-” he chances a look at Mark’s face, listening intently. “I wanted to wait until we were both sure. I don’t want, I really don’t want it to screw this up. Because it means a lot to me.”
He looks at Mark again and sees the ghost of a smile starting to tug at the edges of Mark’s lips. “But I really want this too,” he finishes all in a rush, and then Mark’s smile breaks free.
“Uh, okay?” he asks, stuttering and a little nervous, even though he knows he shouldn’t be.
“Okay,” Mark agrees, his smile transforming into a smirk as he squeezes Eduardo’s hand for a moment before he pulls it back to open his menu again. “Let’s hope the service here is fast,” he mutters snarkily under his breath.
And Eduardo can’t help it. He laughs.
//
They trip over themselves trying to get in the door to Eduardo’s apartment, laughing into each other’s mouths, absolutely giddy.
“Just,” Eduardo tries through his giggles, “just, the way you shoveled all the food down like you were trying to win a race, Mark-” he cuts himself off when he has to gasp for breath, and Mark is doubled over, clutching his own stomach.
Dinner had definitely been an interesting affair, to say the least. Even after the spat out drinks and the open discussion of their sex lives where everyone could hear them, Mark had eaten like his life depended on it and then called for the check so fast Eduardo practically got whiplash just watching him.
“Eager, are we?” Eduardo had asked in the car.
“A year and a half, Wardo,” Mark had replied without even taking his eyes off the road.
But now they’re stumbling into the bedroom and Eduardo can’t help but feel a little eager too. It’s been five months for him, but that’s not it-it’s that this is Mark. They haven’t even started yet but he’s already breathless. This is something he’s wanted with Mark for such a long time, and now it’s happening, and he can’t even reconcile all his feelings-he’s excited and scared and giddy and nervous, all at once, but once they tumble onto the bed, Mark chases every other thought out of his head.
Mark immediately starts pulling at Eduardo’s jacket, working it off his shoulders and throwing it off the bed with abandon, fingers fumbling with the buttons on Eduardo’s shirt. He gets distracted soon, moving to bite at Eduardo’s jaw line and suck a hickey into his neck and kiss the skin behind his ear.
“Mark,” Eduardo gasps out, unable to help it. It doesn’t matter what they’re doing, the simplest touch from Mark has always been able to drive him crazy.
“Wardo,” he replies, sounding just as desperate, finally working open the last button on Eduardo’s shirt and pushing it off, running his hands down the plane of Eduardo’s chest. Eduardo lets out a whimper at the contact. “Wardo,” Mark says again, voice cracking in the middle. He rolls so he’s straddling Eduardo, legs bracketing Eduardo’s hips, drawing his face up to kiss.
Eduardo struggles ineffectually with the buttons on Mark’s shirt without much success. He grits out a groan of frustration into Mark’s mouth and Mark huffs out a laugh, drawing back to undo the buttons himself and shrugging it off before leaning back down to kiss Eduardo.
He moves slowly, working his way down Eduardo’s chest, kissing every exposed bit of skin that he can, while Eduardo tries to breathe normally. He can’t help but quiver with laughter when Mark kisses right above his bellybutton, and Mark looks up at him momentarily to raise an eyebrow at him.
And maybe he’s being too sappy, he thinks, as he reaches down at presses his thumb to the edge of Mark’s smile. He’s pretty sure he isn’t though, judging by the way Mark’s smile just grows wider. Anyway, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t stop even if he was.
Just, he doesn’t remember the last time he was this happy during sex. He feels so light-he doesn’t remember the last time this happened. He’s used to sex being something that makes him want to tear himself apart, hate himself and hurt himself, but now… Now Mark’s kisses are sealing him together, making him feel whole and loved and… And it’s never been better.
Eduardo tunes back into what’s happening when Mark starts struggling with his belt. He finally gets it open, dragging down Eduardo’s pants and underwear in one fell swoop. They don’t bother to even get them all the way off, leaving them around his ankles as Mark presses a trail of kisses along the inside of Eduardo’s thigh. Eduardo can’t even help it, he’s letting out these high and needy noises, moans and whimpers he can’t even control.
And then Mark runs a thumb over a nipple, and so Eduardo gasps and goes quiet. He hears it, then, as Mark twists the same nipple between two fingers, biting at Eduardo’s hipbone. “Mine,” he whispers into the skin there, moving to kiss Eduardo’s knee and then the knob of his ankle. “Mine,” he repeats again, until he’s saying it so often it’s an endless litany, running together. “Mineminemine, Wardo-mine.”
“Yours,” Eduardo groans out in response. “God, Mark, always-I’m, I’m yours.”
Mark rumbles and lets out this animal, possessive sound that goes straight to Wardo’s dick, and then Mark’s mouth is closing around him and oh god.
“Mark,” he moans, the suction sweet and warm and tight and god, he has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to survive this. He props himself up on his elbows so he can see, because he wants to see more of Mark than just his mess of curls. And he does, there’s Mark’s head bobbing, his cheeks hollowed, and Eduardo lets out a groan and has to steel himself not to come right there.
Mark flicks his tongue and then keeps moving, kissing past his balls and then there, licking into him.
“Maaaark,” he manages, drawing out his name, unable to keep quiet and reaching up to cover his own mouth, trying to muffle his sounds.
He flicks his tongue again, pointing it and driving it into Eduardo. His knees draw up; he’s impossibly hard, his cock flushed and leaking. He jerks himself once then twice before it’s too much stimulation, letting his hand fall away. “Fuck me, Mark,” he begs, completely shameless. “Come on, Mark, you have to… you have to… Mark, I need you to fuck me.”
Mark groans, pulling away and then coming back before Eduardo can even open his eyes, licking into him and sliding a finger along in too.
It’s all too much; Eduardo’s every nerve ending is on fire, and he’s making these shudder-y, sobbing noises that sound like they’re coming from far away. But Mark keeps going until Eduardo’s about to come, and then he’s stripping off his pants, his underwear. “Um…” he starts, but Eduardo knows what he’s asking for, rummages in the bedside table drawer for lube and a condom before Mark can even fully ask, thrusting them into his hands and then Mark is slicking himself up.
“Turn over,” Mark murmurs, and Eduardo complies. Mark kisses the nape of Eduardo’s neck and then down each notch on his spine before sliding into Eduardo with a groan.
Mark goes slow at first-so slow Eduardo is blabbering all kinds of ridiculous things, begging him, “Faster, faster,” and “c’mon Mark, yes, right there,” and “so good, fuck, Mark” and then just, “Love you, I love you, Mark-love you, love you.”
And Mark is panting and pushing his face into the nape of Mark’s neck, making equally wanton sounds and Eduardo has no idea how he’s holding on this long since it’s been a year and a half. “Mark, come on,” he says, so hoarse and breathless, because Mark just keeps hitting that spot right there and Eduardo’s practically falling apart underneath him.
“Love you, Wardo, love you so much,” Mark grits out, his grip on Eduardo’s hips tightening, the pulsing of his hips stuttering for a moment. Every part of him tightens and he gasps, like his orgasm is a gut punch running through him.
Eduardo ruts his hips against the bedsheet, trying to get some friction even though he can’t really get his muscles to coordinate or his brain to think straight. Mark pulls out and then pushes Eduardo over onto his side, jerking him off fast and sure.
“Mark,” he moans, pushing his sweaty face into Mark’s neck as Mark fists him again and again.
What does it is Mark, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Eduardo’s head, lacing the fingers of his other hand through Eduardo’s, saying, “Wardo, so gorgeous, god,” and that’s it. He’s coming hard, and he’s tense everywhere and his breathing is ragged and labored.
Mark pulls off the condom and ties it, throwing it away and then heading for the bathroom. Eduardo can hear him gargling and closes his eyes, exhaling and savoring the loose, warm feeling he hasn’t associated with sex in a long, long time.
Then Mark is bounding back in and curling up beside him. Eduardo smiles helplessly when he sees Mark, taking in his hair, rumpled from Eduardo’s hands, and his lips, swollen and overly red from kissing. Mark smiles back, eyes still a little awed. “Wardo, what?”
Eduardo shrugs, looking down, suddenly inexplicably embarrassed at himself. “Nothing, just…” he trails off, feeling himself blush. He knows what he wants to say.
He wants to let Mark know, somehow, that what happened just now was so… It was so amazing. It was the best sex he ever had. And that sounds cheap, but that’s not how he means it-he means it like, being with Mark, even in the simplest sense, feels so much better than being with anyone else. And so it only makes sense that the sex would be better too, he guesses, but still. After such a long time of sex making him feel wrong or dirty or shameful, Eduardo’s not used to this, not used to having felt this good, this whole, this intimate with someone for a long, long time.
“Um, are you planning on finishing that sentence?” Mark asks, bringing Eduardo back to the present.
He laughs a little nervously, still refusing to look up. “Just… Mark, that was-”
Mark tilts his chin up with two fingers, looking hesitant and unsure but so, so beautiful. “What?” he asks.
His eyes sting a little. He’s not sad at all, it’s just like… an excess of feeling, you know? And the words come spilling out before he can stop them. “I’m so happy. Mark you-you make me so happy.”
Mark’s eyes widen a little, like he wasn’t expecting that response, but then he grins. “You too, Wardo,” he says, embracing him so that they’re arms are wrapped around each other and Mark’s is resting his forehead on Eduardo’s bare shoulder. “I love you so much.”
Eduardo whispers it back, and that? That makes him happy too.
//
Taking things slowly works out for them. It’s nice, since Eduardo feels like so much of his life has spun by, to have something that takes it’s time and doesn’t hurry. They spend a lot of time together, building their relationship around their lives and finding they intertwine pretty seamlessly. Sometimes Eduardo will come hang out at the Facebook offices when he’s not busy at work, or Mark will meet Eduardo for lunch, or they’ll hang out with Chris and Dustin. And Eduardo will stay over at Mark’s or the other way around, and it’s all pretty great.
It isn’t like there aren’t hard times, because there are. Sometimes they fight or argue or yell or disagree, but at the end of the day Eduardo can’t imagine being happier with anyone else. Because they always make up, they never go to bed angry, and they always make a point to communicate.
And Eduardo is slowly healing too. Talking to Elaine helps, and talking to Mark helps, and just getting out of bed in the morning helps a little bit more every day.
It isn’t until they’ve been dating for almost a year when Eduardo really remembers about the tabloid pictures, the ones that had made him feel so crazy and jealous and horrible.
Eduardo's just come back from a business trip when Mark finds them. He's gotten Mark to take a look at his computer, because it had been acting really weird in the week he was gone... slow and glitchy and it just kept crashing. So he wants Mark to take a look at it to figure out if it has a virus or something, or if it's just getting old.
And god, he missed Mark so much during that business trip. It's insane. He was only gone a week, and they still Skyped and texted and talked on the phone, but Eduardo still felt incomplete without getting to touch Mark, and sleep next to him at night, and all that other stuff that makes this work.
Judging by the way Mark greeted him when Eduardo came through Mark's door-an enthusiastic kiss, followed by Mark pulling back and smiling at Eduardo so bright it was like looking into the sun, cheek dimpling and everything-Eduardo’s guessing Mark felt the same. His guesses were evidently correct when Mark murmured, "Wardo, I'm so glad you're home," all excitement and joy. And Eduardo, well... he had to kiss Mark in that moment. There was no way he could stop himself.
He thinks they had both hoped that sweet beginning would led to some catching up of a physical nature, jogging up the stairs and making their way to Mark's bedroom. But before long, Eduardo was telling Mark everything about his trip and some of the more annoying clients and Mark is laughing so hard his cheeks are turning pink, his head pillowed on Eduardo's stomach.
And they're both pretty tired. Eduardo never sleeps well in hotels anymore, and apparently Mark doesn't sleep well without Eduardo anymore either, judging by the rumpled pillow and blanket that he spotted on the couch downstairs (and he's definitely going to get on his case about that later, sleeping on the couch is not good for his neck). So they fall asleep without even meaning to, even with Eduardo still in his dress pants and shirt.
They'd woken up eventually of course-well, the grumbling of Mark's stomach woke them both up. Eduardo had teased him about only surviving on tuna and Red Vines while he was gone; "God Mark, it's like you're still nineteen," to which Mark had responded, "Shut up Wardo, I had macaroni and cheese too." Eduardo had questioned whether or not macaroni that orange and came from a box was really advisable to eat, and Mark has punched him lightly on the arm and demanded that Eduardo go make them some real food, then, while Eduardo dragged Mark downstairs with him, laughing all the while.
He made them pasta, partially because he was hungry for it and partially to make Mark send him one of those indulgent, affectionate glares while he said, "Yes, I get your point, Wardo, you win." To which Eduardo turned back over the stove with a grin, and felt Mark's arms go around him from behind and press a soft kiss to the side of his neck.
Hm, maybe he really does win.
"Mark, I'm so fucking hungry I could eat my own arm. There is no way I'm having sex with you on the kitchen floor right now, last time that happened I burned the burgers to a crisp," he ordered, trying to sound authoritative even when his voice tremors, while Mark continued to press his lips to the nape of Eduardo's neck.
Mark pouted a little. "Not even time for a blowjob against the fridge?" he whined playfully. Eduardo squawked at him, going red, shooing him away while Mark just chuckles.
And it's funny, he thought to himself while Mark gets the plates, how domestic they are. It's so simple, and it's never really something he thought he deserved, but it just makes him so uncomplicatedly content. He can't even say how much he missed this while he was gone.
He knows he’ll have to run to his apartment tomorrow morning, though. They had spent the night there the day before Eduardo had left, so some of the stuff he needs for Monday is there, and he's going to have to go pick it up. He groans inwardly just at the thought-spending all day with Mark tomorrow would be preferable. And now his apartment feels so empty without Mark in it too, no matter how weird that is. The worst part of it all is, no matter what, it's always a hassle. There's always something he needs at the wrong place, and it's just plain annoying.
Eduardo shook that train of thought out of his head as the timer went off, tossing the noodles and sauce together while Mark waited impatiently at the table, foot drumming against the floor. He brought it over and sat down, returning Mark's grin and resolving to soak up every moment with Mark until he has to leave.
But now, Mark is helping him with his computer. Anyway, he’s going through Eduardo’s files in his living room while Eduardo cleans up dinner in the kitchen, and he hears Mark call his name.
“What?” he asks, striding in and leaning over the back of the couch so he can see what Mark’s doing.
“What… What are these?” Mark asks. Eduardo can’t really interpret his tone, which is weird, because they’ve both gotten pretty good at that.
Eduardo peers down at the laptop screen and sees those pictures, blushing immediately. “Oh,” he says, his voice a little higher than usual. “Those were, um.” He can’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence.
Mark is grinning at him a little bit like a Cheshire cat as he closes the laptop. “Why did you have those?”
He exhales harshly and comes around on the couch to sit next to Mark. “Because, I saw them in a magazine once and I got really jealous.”
Mark’s brow furrows like his words don’t make any sense, which, why wouldn’t they? “Huh?” Mark asks.
“Just, that guy you were with,” Eduardo tries again, scrubbing his hand anxiously over his face. “He-fuck, you looked so happy with him, and… I wanted that, Mark,” he explains.
Mark grins again and laughs, throwing his head back, which only makes Eduardo blush more. “Wardo,” he says, and his tone is so fond and affectionate that Eduardo immediately feels silly for his fleeting moment of insecurity. “First of all, that guy was just some douche-y investor Chris said I had to make nice with, okay, he practically had me crawling in my skin.”
Eduardo smiles, rolling his eyes at himself and squeezing Mark’s hand.
“And secondly, okay, you do make me happy, you idiot.”
Eduardo’s breath catches in his throat. Not just because of the words, because he does know that on some level, but… The pure honesty in Mark’s tone and the contentment there, that’s what makes Eduardo feel absolutely flushed with happiness. “Yeah?” he asks breathlessly.
Mark rolls his eyes this time. “Okay, you’re fishing for compliments now, Wardo,” he says, voice breathless and helplessly fond. Eduardo laughs, leaning in close and kissing Mark slow and sweet, letting his hands roam and hoping that maybe this will lead somewhere.
“Um,” Mark says, cutting them off much too soon for Eduardo’s taste. “You know, Wardo, you know how happy you make me and how much I love you and, and-and how much this means to me and. Uh... I was kind of a mess without you this week."
Eduardo laughs, but not unkindly. "I figured you might have been; I saw the pillow and blanket," he explains, nodding to them on the other end of the couch. Mark blushes and Eduardo smiles back small, shrugging a little, trying to communicate without words how much he understands.
But sometimes they need words too, because being as clear as possible with each other is something they make an effort to do now. "If it helps, I was the same way," Eduardo admits, exhaling a bit when Mark looks up. "The hotel bed was..." he trails off, shuddering a little at the thought. He doesn't know what he can say without it coming out too sappy: it was too big, too empty, too cold. So he just shrugs again, and this time Mark nods in agreement.
"Wardo, I don't like not being with you. I mean, like that obviously, because business trips suck and work is stupid-" Eduardo can't help but laugh there, because they both love their work so much so it comes out a little ridiculous, but he knows what Mark means, "But also like... I don't like it when you stay at your place and I stay at mine. I. I miss you, kind of a lot, when that happens. And, uh-I don't like switching back and forth even when we stay together either, because it seems like this big unnecessary hassle, and, just-"
"Mark," Eduardo says quietly. Mark stops rambling and Eduardo smiles at him, trying to urge him into actually asking the question. "What are you saying?"
Mark takes in an unsteady breath, meeting Eduardo's gaze with all he has. "Wardo. I know we said we'd take this slow, and you can say no if you think this is too fast, but... Will you move in with me?" Eduardo feels himself go a little pink, and an incandescently happy smile fights its way onto his face as he leans in close, resting their foreheads against one another and brushing their noses together. "Of course I will," he answers, the words coming out soft and full of feeling.
Mark smiles back, Eduardo's favorite kind... The one that is just for him, that lights up every inch of his face with his eyes focused in on Eduardo completely, like nothing else matters. "Thank you," he whispers, closing his eyes and savoring the moment too.
"Mhm," Eduardo replies, not coherent in the least but completely blissful. "I love you," he says again in the space between them, low and soft and intimate and just for Mark, always.
Mark sighs, murmuring "Love you too," against Eduardo's lips as he goes in for a kiss.
//
It takes a couple weeks, but Eduardo manages to sell his apartment in San Francisco without too much trouble.
Some things are kind of hard, but the closer it gets to leaving, the more he realizes that there's not a lot he's going to miss about this city. He's going to have to commute to the office now, but it's not like it isn't worth it, so he's not complaining.
It's beautiful, of course, but there's too many bad associations. When he's in San Francisco, he feels too close to that person again-the self-destructive, scared, bitter guy, so deep in denial about everything his head was practically buried in the sand. And in Palo Alto, he feels... He feels bursting with possibility, fresh and honest and open.
Eduardo cleans out his apartment, something that proves to be a deeply cathartic and emotional experience. Mark offers to help when he mentions it, but Eduardo knows he needs to face this on his own.
It's a long day. Eduardo throws out most things, giving some of his furniture away to neighbors or donating it, and only keeping the things that he really wants: the rocking chair he'd kept in his office that his grandmother had bought for him when he was starting college, his pots and pans, which are infinitely better quality than Mark's, pictures… stuff like that.
He also finds some things, too. When he's cleaning out his desk, he finds that list he'd written with his expectations for everyone. He looks over it briefly, just because it's interesting to see how things have changed; how he's changed. The best part is brushing the pad of his thumb over the question mark next to Mark's name, pleased when some of the lead rubs off on him. It's like a gentle memory of the past, and at the same time a reminder of how lucky he is to have what he has now. And to be able to see how far they've come.
Eduardo ends up throwing the list away. It's nice, but it's also outdated and intensely personal, and besides-he doesn't need it anymore.
But that's not even the biggest discovery.
He's cleaning out the kitchen, taking the magnets off the fridge when he comes across the card hung there from what feels like forever ago.
And the thing is, it's come to mean so much to him. The card represents Chris, trying to help him even when Eduardo pushed him away as hard as he could. It represents Elaine, his partner in crime on this journey of getting to know himself. Last but not least, it represents Mark. Mark, who never took no for an answer and who still cared after everything, all the heartbreak, and who answered calls late at night and stayed up with him when he was terrified and held his hand through it and made sure he was okay, and Mark, who called him an idiot and then kissed him silly and who loves him.
So he holds it in his hands for a moment, considering the tattered edges and the paper, once stiff and shiny but has now become soft and worn-in, from being shoved under piles of junk mail and crammed into his wallet and turned over in his hands again and again in fits of nervous energy. He pockets it quickly, surprised at his own mistiness over the moment, but still... pleased.
Eventually he finishes. Eduardo stands at the door and looks out into the empty, white space, exhaling. And then he turns and just, goes.
Leaving is much easier than he expected. Because yes, that was his home and important moments happened there, he grew and found himself there. But there are important moments to come and more growth to be had and the only difference now is he gets to face them side by side with Mark. And that's worth looking forward to.
//
“Hello?” Eduardo calls as he steps through the door, unlocking the door with his key, the words echoing through the house.
He’s still thrilling inside about the fact that he even has a key now. Mark had pressed it into his hand late last night, right before bed.
“Here,” he had said gruffly, avoiding Eduardo’s eyes and instead focusing on the carpet with unwarranted intensity. “Since you’re cleaning out your apartment tomorrow, I just thought… I dunno. I thought you should have it.”
Eduardo’s not stupid; he knows that Mark’s trying to avoid the emotion behind the moment, because that’s what he does. But he can’t help it, Eduardo just… has to, it’s who he is.
And Mark was still rambling, because he’s still trying to play off the moment. “Because you know, you live here now, and you shouldn’t be locked out of your place, and-I honestly don’t know why you didn’t have one before now; you’ve stayed over enough-”
“Mark, hey” he whispered, turning the key over in his hand, closing his fingers around it slowly. Mark was still glaring at the floor steadfastly, so Eduardo used his other hand to tilt his chin up with two fingers. Mark saw Eduardo’s expression and promptly rolled his eyes, like he knew what was coming.
So, just this once, Eduardo forgoes words between them, leaning in to curl the hand holding the key around Mark’s hip and anchoring the other at the edge of his jaw, hoping the kiss can communicate the things he wants it to. Mark responded easily, letting out a soft wanting sound at the back of his throat that always gives Eduardo goosebumps. He tugged at Mark’s lower lip with his teeth, deepening the kiss and curling their tongues together.
He pulls back, and then it’s just the two of them inches from each other, eyes a little wild, breathing close, and skin bright and flushed. Mark gives him a smile, and that’s it… That’s all Eduardo wants.
“Well,” Mark said, drawing the word out and drawing his lips into a slow, wicked grin. “I guess now everything here is ours?”
Eduardo’s brow had furrowed, not catching the meaning. “Yeah, I guess…”
“Hm,” Mark had hummed. “Then, how about we take this to our bed?”
Eduardo had thrown his head back and laughed, shaking his head at Mark happily. “That was such an easy line, Mark, god.”
“Yeah, well,” Mark had shrugged, “It worked on you, so what does that say?”
He had pretended to act offended, playing along, but his wide smile had given him away as he took Mark’s hand and followed him. “Maybe just for you,” he’d replied, and Mark had gone genuinely pink and pleased at that, so… mission accomplished.
The sound of Mark bounding through the house brings Eduardo back to reality and makes him grin a little bit, but not as much as the sight that immediately follows-Mark jogging down the stairs in his threadbare "Brazillia" t-shirt (which, why does he still even have that thing, Eduardo got it for him during his sophomore year of college) and his worn sweatpants. He pauses on the final step and looks at Eduardo, grin sliding onto his face almost unconsciously, like a reflex. "Hi," he says simply.
Eduardo steps forward slowly, smile playful as he comes closer. Mark can take the anticipation for only so long before he gives Eduardo a long suffering look and tugs him in by his belt loops, drawing out a full laugh from Eduardo that makes Mark’s grin just noticeably wider.
Being on the step makes him an inch or so taller, which is unusual but kind of nice, Eduardo thinks as Mark pulls him into his arms. He's able to bury his head into Mark's neck now, inhaling him and smelling laundry soap and the now mostly faded smell of his aftershave. He presses a quick kiss there, the space just above his collarbone, before turning and pillowing his head on Mark's shoulder as Mark draws his arms around him and sighing happily.
"You're home," Mark says simply, and Eduardo can't help but grin, pulling his face back so he can take in Mark's awed, captivated expression. It’s like he still can't believe Eduardo is there, that this is happening. And... Eduardo still thinks that every day, and he's not sure he's ever going to get over it, so he knows the feeling.
The word "home" continues to echo around in his head as he reaches out to lightly touch the edges of Mark's smile. Because yeah, this is home now. This house and Mark and Palo Alto are all home, and Eduardo couldn't be more thrilled.
It's been a slow burn, between the two of them. A lot has happened-a good share of both good and bad-but Eduardo finds it hard to regret any of it, even the scariest, darkest moments. Because now he's here, and all of that led him here, and the future is so bright and hopeful that it almost makes up for all the hard stuff that came before.
And here is where he was trying to get to, all that time, even when he refused to admit it to himself. Here, with Mark smiling at him like he's just everything, holding him close like he's something precious, with a blooming warmth in his chest telling him that he's loved. He's truly grateful it didn't happen any sooner-because now he can appreciate this and understand it. Maybe in his fantasies it was easier or faster, but the trials and hardships and misunderstandings are what give him hope. They've had to fight for this, and so he knows that they can continue to do so.
They'll have to, too... This isn't a fairytale ending. Eduardo still has his issues and so does Mark, and they have some together too, just for good measure. And that's okay. Because Mark loves him, for all his flaws, and that means everything.
He can't help but think to himself that, no matter what Dustin claims in his typical dramatic, theatrical manner, this isn't a love story. Maybe it's more of a growth story. Maybe this is Eduardo's growth story-his journey, about how he went from the worst place he's ever been to the best one imaginable. And how he had to learn and hurt and heal along the way, and how he had to do it all himself. Which, when it's said that way, sounds too dismissive, because he never would have made it here without Elaine or Chris or Dustin or Mark. But there is a point. He didn't get help because someone else told him to, just like he didn't get help just to get Mark in the end. He did it for himself, and he thinks maybe this life with Mark he's about to start isn't so much the end goal or direct effect, but an unexpected reward, a lucky consequence.
"I am," he agrees, smiling back as he steps up onto the stair with Mark, taking one of his hands and leaning in close to kiss him, but not before repeating it again against his lips (because saying it thrills him and means so much more than Mark will ever know): "I'm home."
//
"i am young, and i am yours
i am free, but i am flawed
i am here, and your heart
was here from the start..."
//
the end