Fic: Something New (Ugly Betty, Marc/Daniel)
Title: Something New
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: Daniel/Marc
Rating: PG
Summary: Betty gets married.
Notes: This is for annundriel, who saved my ass with emergency fic advice a little while ago, as well as being the one who first uttered the words "need Marc/Daniel now!" in my vicinity. Thank you also to kuwdora for not only audiencing this, but sharing her Ugly Betty squee with me and reinvigorating my love for the series. *smooshes you both*
This is 2700 words of fluff. Hope there's one or two of you out there who might enjoy this. :)
"Bye-bye!" Betty calls out, tacky money purse bouncing against her wrist as she flaps her hand at the gathered crowd. (Well, okay. Vera Wang can never truly be tacky, and there's something to be said for having the entirety of New York's fashion elite stuffing cash into your hands all night, but still.) She looks like she's going to break into another way too heartfelt speech, but hands tug her backward and the window slides up, enclosing the newlyweds safely inside.
"We really need to do the marriage thing," Marc murmurs as the limousine pulls away, cans and shoes clanking along behind. "Thirty days should be long enough, I think. Well, my Aunt Nadine expects returns for anything less than a year, but really, silver-plated juicers are impractical anyway."
"Hmm?" Amanda's gaze doesn't quite land on his face, but considering the amount of champagne she's downed tonight, he'll take it. "Oh, right! The before-we're-old-and-ugly thing." She leans forward, swaying dangerously, but before Marc winds up with an armful of bottled blonde, Chase steadies her with an arm around her waist. "Um. About that," she fails to whisper. "I really don't think I'm going to need to."
"Oh?" It takes him a second to get it, even with Amanda's sloshed smile and Chase's smug mug over her shoulder. "Oh! Hey, congratulations!"
Amanda taps her index finger against her lips. Or close enough to them to get the point across, anyway. "Shhhh. It's Betty's day, can't mess it up."
"Right." Marc thinks about telling her that since Betty is gone already, it doesn't really matter, but considering the amount of effort Amanda must have put into keeping the secret all night, he isn't going to do anything to deflate her.
He doesn't really feel like oohing and aahing over her excitement right now, anyway.
"So, we're going to go now," Amanda says abruptly. She winks hugely; Marc makes a gagging noise in automatic response. She slaps him on the chest, almost hard enough to hurt, and then giggle-spins around into Chase's arms. Marc watches them walk towards the waiting valets for almost a full minute, then he shakes his head at himself. This might not be much of a party, but he's not sunk to the point where he's going to spend all night moping into his cake and comparing notes with the old maid who caught the bouquet for the fifteenth time in her life.
Most of the farewell crowd has already made their way back inside, drawn by the open bar and the insistent salsa beat. Marc takes in the few still clustered in conversation, but other than Betty's father and sister, he doesn't spot any familiar faces. Not that he's looking for anyone specific. Not really. It'd just be nice to hang out with someone who won't care if he gets a little catty, who won't say anything if somehow he winds up a little misty-eyed.
Fuck. He might as well slit his wrists into a glass right now and save the gods of emo a trip to the sacrificial altar.
He ponders the cab queue, but ultimately rejects the painless route and heads back inside. He wouldn't have spent years with Wilhelmina if he wasn't a bit masochistic, after all. The dance floor is packed, as expected, but with nobody interesting, and the bar only provides another glass of champagne. Marc frowns. He's pretty sure Daniel wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. Er. Before saying goodbye to Betty, of course. But he's nowhere to be seen in the ballroom. Marc considers the possibility that he's in a closet somewhere, showing some young thing the time of her life, but that's the old Daniel. The now Daniel has a reputation as more celibate than a priest these days, and while Marc's pretty sure that's not completely true, he's also pretty sure Daniel's penchant for fucking in semi-public died with Molly.
Marc checks back outside, just in case Daniel had been buried by the gaggle of Suarezes, but no, he's not there. He ducks into the cloakroom just in case, earning a glare from the hat-check girl, and ignores the flutter of relief when he finds it empty. The men's restroom earns him more glares and a new-found respect for Gary in Accounting; the women's gets him a wink and a look from Erin from Hot Flash that he doesn't want to think about. Which leaves him wandering the halls aimlessly, seriously considering checking under table skirts in the ballroom, when he finally sees a pair of Ferragamos poking out from behind the bronze base of a huge potted palm. Marc glances over his shoulder, checking for the all-clear, before darting over to the makeshift alcove.
"There you are!"
"Here I am," Daniel agrees. He's sitting with his knees drawn up, wedged between the wall, the plant, and one of those serving carts that look like a squadron of clowns could be hiding under the draped cloth. His tie hangs loose, the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, and a bottle of the house champagne is dangling from his right hand. Marc narrows his eyes as Daniel raises it for an indelicate swig; by the tipping angle, the bottle looks to be less than half full.
"So," Marc says. "Any particular reason why you're here?"
Daniel snorts. "Why are any of us here?"
"Champagne is so not the drug of choice for existentialism jokes." Marc tugs on the bottle, and Daniel lets it go without much fight. He holds out his other hand, hoping to coax Daniel upwards, but Daniel just ignores it. Sighing, Marc tucks the bottle in amongst the palm fronds, then shoves the cart over enough that he can fit in next to Daniel.
"Did you know my father hired Betty because he thought I wouldn't sleep with her?"
Marc opens his mouth to remind Daniel who told the entire staff at Mode that very thing, but luckily he remembers exactly who it is he's talking to before the words come out. "I think I'd heard a rumor to that effect once or twice."
"It's true." Daniel's lips quirk up on one side for the introspective half-smile that's his standard these days. "I always wanted to think he saw how special she is, but it was just that he couldn't see beyond the surface. The worst part of it all is that he was right about me. At least back then."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I mean, come on, do you remember how she dressed back then? And those bangs."
Daniel's smile is fond. "Do you remember that poncho she wore her first day?"
"Do I remember it?" Marc laughs hard enough that his back pulls away from the wall. "She has it framed in her office." His laughter stops abruptly as something horrible unfolds in his brain. Thought I wouldn't, Daniel said. "Oh, my God. You slept with Betty!"
"What?" Daniel's head jerks up, his eyes wide. "No, of course not! And keep your voice down."
"Sorry." Marc lets out a big sigh of relief. A couple giggles escape with it. "Right. What was I thinking? You and Betty? That's a laugh."
Daniel drops his head into his hands.
"Oh, my--" He catches himself mid-shriek, then leans forward and cranes his head around to make sure he hadn't attracted any eavesdroppers. Marc lowers his voice as close to a whisper as he can manage, but shock seems to have effected his volume controls. "Oh, my God! You're in love with Betty!"
Daniel thumps his head back against the wall. "Not anymore."
"Not any... I need a drink." Marc lunges to the side, using Daniel's shoulder for leverage as he gropes around in the dirt until his fingers hit the jackpot. He drops back onto his ass with a grunt, then takes a long gulp straight from the bottle. As soon as he lowers the bottle, Daniel pulls it out of his hands and takes one of his own. "You and Betty? I don't believe it. What happened?"
Daniel shakes his head. "Nothing happened."
"Okay, no, you do not get out of this that easily." Marc nudges Daniel's shoulder with his own. Daniel follows the motion, leaning into him, letting Marc take some of his drunken weight. "Spill."
"There's nothing to tell." Daniel's smile is slow and sweet, full of memories too good to share. Marc ignores the familiar curl of jealousy; they both have other friends in their lives, and it's not like he didn't know Betty was important to Daniel long before the two of them got around to being besties. "It's just, after Molly, I just saw the world differently. And there she was. Betty."
Marc digests that for a minute. "She turned you down?"
"She didn't have to." Daniel sighs. "I never said anything. She was with Matt, and then Henry again, and then Ariss. And our friendship was too important."
"That is the most pathetic thing I've ever heard. Daniel Meade, the most eligible bachelor of the year only a gagillion times, never even tried?"
Daniel shrugs. "I didn't want to make things awkward for her. She's never felt that way about me, and I'm okay with that."
Marc sighs. "Ugh. I feel like I'm trapped in some Lifetime movie."
Daniel snorts. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did get over her. She's still my Betty, but we're definitely better off as friends."
"If you're so over her, why are you hiding out getting drunk on cheap champagne?"
Daniel hefts the bottle by its base, turning it until the label faces them. The way he wrinkles his nose is beyond adorable. "Because I'm pathetic?"
Marc laughs and pushes his shoulder into Daniel's again. Daniel's smile is fuller this time. "Come on, tell me."
"Lots of reasons. I can't help but think about Molly, and our crazy wedding. I guess I had this kind of fairy tale in my head that someday I could have that again."
"And Betty was the princess in your scenario?"
"Not really?" Daniel sinks a little farther against Marc's shoulder. "I just have a habit of falling for my assistants, I guess. They do that whole caring about me thing, and boom, I'm gone."
Marc smiles wistfully. "It's a good thing we didn't have that problem, then."
Daniel turns his head, eyebrows drawn together with such confusion that Marc wants to pet his fluffy head. "You didn't care about me?"
Marc huffs and rolls his eyes. "You are worse than Wili sometimes. Yes, of course I care about you. I just meant the whole falling for me thing. Not that I'm not more awesome than all of your other assistants combined, but hello, guy."
"Oh. Right." Daniel pushes away from the wall and staggers to his feet. Champagne dribbles out of the bottle before he and it make it completely upright. "I just remembered, I have to go."
"What? Wait, Daniel--" Marc levers himself up, just in time to catch Daniel when he trips over his own feet. The bottle of champagne clunks painfully against the outer bump of his wrist, and Marc snatches it out of Daniel's hand, not hiding his annoyance with the stupid thing and this sudden, confusing mood swing. "What did I say? I'm sorry, whatever it was."
Daniel raises his head slowly. His eyes are intense, enough so that Marc wants to look away, but he can't. He swallows hard. Marc knows that look, only it can't possibly be what he thinks it is. "Daniel?" he asks nervously.
"If I'm not any good at this, blame it on the champagne." And then Daniel pulls him close and kisses him. End-of-the-movie kisses him, complete with music rising in the background. Okay, that might be the reception band kicking it up another notch for the Macarena, but with his knees weak and his heart hammering, Marc doesn't really care one way or the other. He keeps his eyes closed as Daniel pulls away.
"Pinch me," he murmurs.
"What?"
"Pinch me, because I obviously fell asleep during that God-awful ceremony and started dreaming, and any moment now I'm going to start calling your name in the middle of St. Patrick's, and wow, I so do not need something more embarrassing to haunt my nightmares than getting pantsed in front of the entire football squad in eighth grade."
Daniel chuckles. Then he pinches Marc's waist--hard.
"Hey!" He opens his eyes to see Daniel smiling at him, shyly.
"You're not dreaming," Daniel says.
Marc shakes his head. "I have to be. You're not gay."
Daniel sighs, loosening his arms, but before he can step back Marc tightens his. Maybe it's desperate and clingy, but he doesn't want Daniel to run. Daniel doesn't fight him, though he keeps his head ducked, avoiding Marc's eyes.
"I might be?" Daniel finally says. "Or, I guess, bisexual. All those flings were kind of a desperate bid for affection, yeah, but I know that what I had with Molly was real."
Marc swallows. "I don't know what to do with that."
Daniel nods. "Yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed." He pushes back against Marc's embrace. Marc lets him break it, but he catches Daniel's forearm in a tight grip.
"I didn't mean I'm not interested. I just-- I don't understand what's going on in your head. You tell me you're in love with Betty, and that you have an assistant fetish, and then you kiss me?"
"Was. Was in love with her," Daniel says. "I'm not anymore. I was, I don't know, feeling nostalgic. And the assistant thing--it's not really a fetish, okay? Besides--You haven't been my assistant in two years, and the way I feel hasn't changed."
"The way you..." Marc clenches his fingers. He's probably digging in to Daniel's skin painfully, but he doesn't really care right now. "Oh, fuck it." He goes up on his tiptoes, and Daniel meets him. The kiss is hotter than before, with tongue this time, and Marc suddenly understands that it's not just Daniel's good looks and money that have kept women lining up for years. He's already confident that Daniel's reputation as a sex machine is more than deserved, and all they've done is share a few drunken kisses. They're both breathing hard when Marc drops down flat-footed again.
"Come back to my apartment," Daniel says, forehead pressed against Marc's.
"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but no." He curls his hand around the back of Daniel's neck, keeping him in place. "You've been drinking and we're both up to our knees in maudlin, and I so do not need you to freak out in the morning and fire me. Not that I wouldn't sue your assets off, but it'd be a huge hassle and I just don't have the energy to deal with that kind of thing anymore."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
"I think you're going to freak out tomorrow, no matter what else happens tonight."
Daniel sighs. "Maybe. But only because I've made a complete fool out of myself tonight."
Marc smiles. "You haven't, I promise." They kiss again, and it's so sweet Marc almost feels guilty. Like this isn't something he should be allowed to have, not after all the awful things he's done in his life. But Daniel's one of the big reasons he's where he is today, why he is who he is today, and if Daniel wants this, if he really does want this, maybe Marc can have it.
"What if I promise to keep it to a little drunken making out?" Daniel asks, sliding his hand down to Marc's ass.
His breath catches in his throat. It takes more restraint than he knew he had not to grind his hips into Daniel's. "So very tempting." And Marc likes temptation, he really, really does. "But drunken make outs between two guys don't usually stop with the making out."
"Yeah, okay, I can see that," Daniel says, but he's pouting anyway.
Marc buries his face in Daniel's neck--he smells glorious, of course. "I so hate myself right now."
Daniel chuckles. "Is it okay if I call you tomorrow? Maybe for lunch?"
"I'd like that," Marc says, and ugh, he sounds shy. "Wait, no. Make it dinner. I am so not dealing with you in hangover mode. I'm not your assistant anymore, after all."
Daniel smiles. "Dinner it is," he says, and Marc thinks God bless Betty Suarez right before he's pulled in for another kiss.
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: Daniel/Marc
Rating: PG
Summary: Betty gets married.
Notes: This is for annundriel, who saved my ass with emergency fic advice a little while ago, as well as being the one who first uttered the words "need Marc/Daniel now!" in my vicinity. Thank you also to kuwdora for not only audiencing this, but sharing her Ugly Betty squee with me and reinvigorating my love for the series. *smooshes you both*
This is 2700 words of fluff. Hope there's one or two of you out there who might enjoy this. :)
"Bye-bye!" Betty calls out, tacky money purse bouncing against her wrist as she flaps her hand at the gathered crowd. (Well, okay. Vera Wang can never truly be tacky, and there's something to be said for having the entirety of New York's fashion elite stuffing cash into your hands all night, but still.) She looks like she's going to break into another way too heartfelt speech, but hands tug her backward and the window slides up, enclosing the newlyweds safely inside.
"We really need to do the marriage thing," Marc murmurs as the limousine pulls away, cans and shoes clanking along behind. "Thirty days should be long enough, I think. Well, my Aunt Nadine expects returns for anything less than a year, but really, silver-plated juicers are impractical anyway."
"Hmm?" Amanda's gaze doesn't quite land on his face, but considering the amount of champagne she's downed tonight, he'll take it. "Oh, right! The before-we're-old-and-ugly thing." She leans forward, swaying dangerously, but before Marc winds up with an armful of bottled blonde, Chase steadies her with an arm around her waist. "Um. About that," she fails to whisper. "I really don't think I'm going to need to."
"Oh?" It takes him a second to get it, even with Amanda's sloshed smile and Chase's smug mug over her shoulder. "Oh! Hey, congratulations!"
Amanda taps her index finger against her lips. Or close enough to them to get the point across, anyway. "Shhhh. It's Betty's day, can't mess it up."
"Right." Marc thinks about telling her that since Betty is gone already, it doesn't really matter, but considering the amount of effort Amanda must have put into keeping the secret all night, he isn't going to do anything to deflate her.
He doesn't really feel like oohing and aahing over her excitement right now, anyway.
"So, we're going to go now," Amanda says abruptly. She winks hugely; Marc makes a gagging noise in automatic response. She slaps him on the chest, almost hard enough to hurt, and then giggle-spins around into Chase's arms. Marc watches them walk towards the waiting valets for almost a full minute, then he shakes his head at himself. This might not be much of a party, but he's not sunk to the point where he's going to spend all night moping into his cake and comparing notes with the old maid who caught the bouquet for the fifteenth time in her life.
Most of the farewell crowd has already made their way back inside, drawn by the open bar and the insistent salsa beat. Marc takes in the few still clustered in conversation, but other than Betty's father and sister, he doesn't spot any familiar faces. Not that he's looking for anyone specific. Not really. It'd just be nice to hang out with someone who won't care if he gets a little catty, who won't say anything if somehow he winds up a little misty-eyed.
Fuck. He might as well slit his wrists into a glass right now and save the gods of emo a trip to the sacrificial altar.
He ponders the cab queue, but ultimately rejects the painless route and heads back inside. He wouldn't have spent years with Wilhelmina if he wasn't a bit masochistic, after all. The dance floor is packed, as expected, but with nobody interesting, and the bar only provides another glass of champagne. Marc frowns. He's pretty sure Daniel wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. Er. Before saying goodbye to Betty, of course. But he's nowhere to be seen in the ballroom. Marc considers the possibility that he's in a closet somewhere, showing some young thing the time of her life, but that's the old Daniel. The now Daniel has a reputation as more celibate than a priest these days, and while Marc's pretty sure that's not completely true, he's also pretty sure Daniel's penchant for fucking in semi-public died with Molly.
Marc checks back outside, just in case Daniel had been buried by the gaggle of Suarezes, but no, he's not there. He ducks into the cloakroom just in case, earning a glare from the hat-check girl, and ignores the flutter of relief when he finds it empty. The men's restroom earns him more glares and a new-found respect for Gary in Accounting; the women's gets him a wink and a look from Erin from Hot Flash that he doesn't want to think about. Which leaves him wandering the halls aimlessly, seriously considering checking under table skirts in the ballroom, when he finally sees a pair of Ferragamos poking out from behind the bronze base of a huge potted palm. Marc glances over his shoulder, checking for the all-clear, before darting over to the makeshift alcove.
"There you are!"
"Here I am," Daniel agrees. He's sitting with his knees drawn up, wedged between the wall, the plant, and one of those serving carts that look like a squadron of clowns could be hiding under the draped cloth. His tie hangs loose, the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, and a bottle of the house champagne is dangling from his right hand. Marc narrows his eyes as Daniel raises it for an indelicate swig; by the tipping angle, the bottle looks to be less than half full.
"So," Marc says. "Any particular reason why you're here?"
Daniel snorts. "Why are any of us here?"
"Champagne is so not the drug of choice for existentialism jokes." Marc tugs on the bottle, and Daniel lets it go without much fight. He holds out his other hand, hoping to coax Daniel upwards, but Daniel just ignores it. Sighing, Marc tucks the bottle in amongst the palm fronds, then shoves the cart over enough that he can fit in next to Daniel.
"Did you know my father hired Betty because he thought I wouldn't sleep with her?"
Marc opens his mouth to remind Daniel who told the entire staff at Mode that very thing, but luckily he remembers exactly who it is he's talking to before the words come out. "I think I'd heard a rumor to that effect once or twice."
"It's true." Daniel's lips quirk up on one side for the introspective half-smile that's his standard these days. "I always wanted to think he saw how special she is, but it was just that he couldn't see beyond the surface. The worst part of it all is that he was right about me. At least back then."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I mean, come on, do you remember how she dressed back then? And those bangs."
Daniel's smile is fond. "Do you remember that poncho she wore her first day?"
"Do I remember it?" Marc laughs hard enough that his back pulls away from the wall. "She has it framed in her office." His laughter stops abruptly as something horrible unfolds in his brain. Thought I wouldn't, Daniel said. "Oh, my God. You slept with Betty!"
"What?" Daniel's head jerks up, his eyes wide. "No, of course not! And keep your voice down."
"Sorry." Marc lets out a big sigh of relief. A couple giggles escape with it. "Right. What was I thinking? You and Betty? That's a laugh."
Daniel drops his head into his hands.
"Oh, my--" He catches himself mid-shriek, then leans forward and cranes his head around to make sure he hadn't attracted any eavesdroppers. Marc lowers his voice as close to a whisper as he can manage, but shock seems to have effected his volume controls. "Oh, my God! You're in love with Betty!"
Daniel thumps his head back against the wall. "Not anymore."
"Not any... I need a drink." Marc lunges to the side, using Daniel's shoulder for leverage as he gropes around in the dirt until his fingers hit the jackpot. He drops back onto his ass with a grunt, then takes a long gulp straight from the bottle. As soon as he lowers the bottle, Daniel pulls it out of his hands and takes one of his own. "You and Betty? I don't believe it. What happened?"
Daniel shakes his head. "Nothing happened."
"Okay, no, you do not get out of this that easily." Marc nudges Daniel's shoulder with his own. Daniel follows the motion, leaning into him, letting Marc take some of his drunken weight. "Spill."
"There's nothing to tell." Daniel's smile is slow and sweet, full of memories too good to share. Marc ignores the familiar curl of jealousy; they both have other friends in their lives, and it's not like he didn't know Betty was important to Daniel long before the two of them got around to being besties. "It's just, after Molly, I just saw the world differently. And there she was. Betty."
Marc digests that for a minute. "She turned you down?"
"She didn't have to." Daniel sighs. "I never said anything. She was with Matt, and then Henry again, and then Ariss. And our friendship was too important."
"That is the most pathetic thing I've ever heard. Daniel Meade, the most eligible bachelor of the year only a gagillion times, never even tried?"
Daniel shrugs. "I didn't want to make things awkward for her. She's never felt that way about me, and I'm okay with that."
Marc sighs. "Ugh. I feel like I'm trapped in some Lifetime movie."
Daniel snorts. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I did get over her. She's still my Betty, but we're definitely better off as friends."
"If you're so over her, why are you hiding out getting drunk on cheap champagne?"
Daniel hefts the bottle by its base, turning it until the label faces them. The way he wrinkles his nose is beyond adorable. "Because I'm pathetic?"
Marc laughs and pushes his shoulder into Daniel's again. Daniel's smile is fuller this time. "Come on, tell me."
"Lots of reasons. I can't help but think about Molly, and our crazy wedding. I guess I had this kind of fairy tale in my head that someday I could have that again."
"And Betty was the princess in your scenario?"
"Not really?" Daniel sinks a little farther against Marc's shoulder. "I just have a habit of falling for my assistants, I guess. They do that whole caring about me thing, and boom, I'm gone."
Marc smiles wistfully. "It's a good thing we didn't have that problem, then."
Daniel turns his head, eyebrows drawn together with such confusion that Marc wants to pet his fluffy head. "You didn't care about me?"
Marc huffs and rolls his eyes. "You are worse than Wili sometimes. Yes, of course I care about you. I just meant the whole falling for me thing. Not that I'm not more awesome than all of your other assistants combined, but hello, guy."
"Oh. Right." Daniel pushes away from the wall and staggers to his feet. Champagne dribbles out of the bottle before he and it make it completely upright. "I just remembered, I have to go."
"What? Wait, Daniel--" Marc levers himself up, just in time to catch Daniel when he trips over his own feet. The bottle of champagne clunks painfully against the outer bump of his wrist, and Marc snatches it out of Daniel's hand, not hiding his annoyance with the stupid thing and this sudden, confusing mood swing. "What did I say? I'm sorry, whatever it was."
Daniel raises his head slowly. His eyes are intense, enough so that Marc wants to look away, but he can't. He swallows hard. Marc knows that look, only it can't possibly be what he thinks it is. "Daniel?" he asks nervously.
"If I'm not any good at this, blame it on the champagne." And then Daniel pulls him close and kisses him. End-of-the-movie kisses him, complete with music rising in the background. Okay, that might be the reception band kicking it up another notch for the Macarena, but with his knees weak and his heart hammering, Marc doesn't really care one way or the other. He keeps his eyes closed as Daniel pulls away.
"Pinch me," he murmurs.
"What?"
"Pinch me, because I obviously fell asleep during that God-awful ceremony and started dreaming, and any moment now I'm going to start calling your name in the middle of St. Patrick's, and wow, I so do not need something more embarrassing to haunt my nightmares than getting pantsed in front of the entire football squad in eighth grade."
Daniel chuckles. Then he pinches Marc's waist--hard.
"Hey!" He opens his eyes to see Daniel smiling at him, shyly.
"You're not dreaming," Daniel says.
Marc shakes his head. "I have to be. You're not gay."
Daniel sighs, loosening his arms, but before he can step back Marc tightens his. Maybe it's desperate and clingy, but he doesn't want Daniel to run. Daniel doesn't fight him, though he keeps his head ducked, avoiding Marc's eyes.
"I might be?" Daniel finally says. "Or, I guess, bisexual. All those flings were kind of a desperate bid for affection, yeah, but I know that what I had with Molly was real."
Marc swallows. "I don't know what to do with that."
Daniel nods. "Yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed." He pushes back against Marc's embrace. Marc lets him break it, but he catches Daniel's forearm in a tight grip.
"I didn't mean I'm not interested. I just-- I don't understand what's going on in your head. You tell me you're in love with Betty, and that you have an assistant fetish, and then you kiss me?"
"Was. Was in love with her," Daniel says. "I'm not anymore. I was, I don't know, feeling nostalgic. And the assistant thing--it's not really a fetish, okay? Besides--You haven't been my assistant in two years, and the way I feel hasn't changed."
"The way you..." Marc clenches his fingers. He's probably digging in to Daniel's skin painfully, but he doesn't really care right now. "Oh, fuck it." He goes up on his tiptoes, and Daniel meets him. The kiss is hotter than before, with tongue this time, and Marc suddenly understands that it's not just Daniel's good looks and money that have kept women lining up for years. He's already confident that Daniel's reputation as a sex machine is more than deserved, and all they've done is share a few drunken kisses. They're both breathing hard when Marc drops down flat-footed again.
"Come back to my apartment," Daniel says, forehead pressed against Marc's.
"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but no." He curls his hand around the back of Daniel's neck, keeping him in place. "You've been drinking and we're both up to our knees in maudlin, and I so do not need you to freak out in the morning and fire me. Not that I wouldn't sue your assets off, but it'd be a huge hassle and I just don't have the energy to deal with that kind of thing anymore."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
"I think you're going to freak out tomorrow, no matter what else happens tonight."
Daniel sighs. "Maybe. But only because I've made a complete fool out of myself tonight."
Marc smiles. "You haven't, I promise." They kiss again, and it's so sweet Marc almost feels guilty. Like this isn't something he should be allowed to have, not after all the awful things he's done in his life. But Daniel's one of the big reasons he's where he is today, why he is who he is today, and if Daniel wants this, if he really does want this, maybe Marc can have it.
"What if I promise to keep it to a little drunken making out?" Daniel asks, sliding his hand down to Marc's ass.
His breath catches in his throat. It takes more restraint than he knew he had not to grind his hips into Daniel's. "So very tempting." And Marc likes temptation, he really, really does. "But drunken make outs between two guys don't usually stop with the making out."
"Yeah, okay, I can see that," Daniel says, but he's pouting anyway.
Marc buries his face in Daniel's neck--he smells glorious, of course. "I so hate myself right now."
Daniel chuckles. "Is it okay if I call you tomorrow? Maybe for lunch?"
"I'd like that," Marc says, and ugh, he sounds shy. "Wait, no. Make it dinner. I am so not dealing with you in hangover mode. I'm not your assistant anymore, after all."
Daniel smiles. "Dinner it is," he says, and Marc thinks God bless Betty Suarez right before he's pulled in for another kiss.