fic: It's Raining (But Only Outside) (mark/eduardo, prompt 121)
Title: It's Raining (But Only Outside)
Recipient: savetomorrow
Prompt Number: 121
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Eduardo
Rating/Warnings: Excessive shmoop (as was requested by the prompt, naturally)
Word Count: 2091
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): Eduardo and Mark relive a perfect moment and follow that with a perfect morning (while planning a perfect day)
Notes: I hope this is enough! I kept trying, but a perfect day of the boys vegging out just turned into tedium. Does a perfect (hopefully poignant) morning suffice?
Mark blinks his eyes open and Eduardo’s right there.
He’s on his stomach with his face turned toward the window, his gaze intent. He pillows his head on his folded arms and sighs, very quiet. He probably doesn’t want to wake Mark.
But Mark’s already awake. He makes a noise so Eduardo notices.
Eduardo looks away from the window for a moment and smiles at him. He’s kind of sleepy, Mark thinks, but his eyes are as big as they always get.
…When there’s a rainstorm.
“It’s raining,” he whispers, like the rain will go away if it hears him. (What a stupid thing to think-people don’t affect the weather that much at all. Mark would tell him, but he never listens, so it’s kind of a waste of his voice.)
His eyes are big and his smile is really sleepy and he’s kind of nice, this early in the morning when most things annoy Mark.
“I know,” he says back, and he doesn’t raise his voice. Eduardo would make shushing noises and he doesn’t want to fight with him when he’s like this.
Eduardo is sort of cute like this. Watching the rain the way a little kid watches a circus: spellbound by the fact that this type of thing could exist. Mark probably sometimes has that face on when he codes something to life, so it’s not like he gets to make fun of Eduardo for it.
Eduardo turns his head just the tiniest amount and glances at him, and then blushes. Blowing the fluff of his hair off his forehead, he moves another few inches sideways and leans down till Mark’s nose is poking his.
Mark makes a snuffling sound and Eduardo laughs, choking back the sound. He probably cares if Dustin hears in the next bed, not that far away from here.
Mark doesn’t. He pulls Eduardo down and kisses him. The rain pounds and mixes with how fast Eduardo’s breath gets; he uses his tongue and pushes harder against Eduardo until the panting drowns out the pattering on the window.
Triumphant as he pulls away, he grins. Eduardo shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
“Go back to sleep, querido.” he says under his breath once he’s able to catch it, not-quite-looking at Mark as the rainstorm steals his attention away from him again.
Mark huffs like he’s upset, but mostly he’s smiling.
And he does, closing his eyes slowly, so that he can see Eduardo’s eager face turned to watch the rain until the very. last. moment.
Mark blinks his eyes open again and shifts, looking for warmth: he’s sure there should be some near him, even if he’s fuzzy at the moment about why.
Eduardo looks over from the window where he’s standing, his arms crossed over his bare chest; the shadows of the rivers of rain down the window look like they’re disappearing into his silk pajamas. He smiles, and Mark closes his eyes for a second just to open them and make sure he’s still there.
He’s older and wiser and not quite as needy, but he’s still Wardo. So when Mark wriggles up to sit against the pillows, he’s kneeling on the bed nearly before Mark needed him there.
Eduardo has an uncanny knack nowadays for knowing what Mark wants before Mark does. It comes in handy, to say the least (and shows how far they’ve come; but Mark’s not in the mood to deal with all that history today).
Eduardo bends to kiss his mouth and Mark shivers. His hands are cold where one of them cups Mark’s cheek, and they’re neither of them all that warm to begin with.
“It’s raining,” Eduardo says, excitedly against his lips, and Mark wants to laugh at the déjà vu. He hadn’t realized his mind could be so…poetic. Nostalgic, even.
What’s he want with Harvard when he’s got this, anyway?
“I know,” he says, just for the closure (in case this is the kind of time loop Dustin would warn about: don’t fuck with it when history repeats itself, Marky Mark), pulling back down and away to look at Eduardo. His eyes are big; Mark’s unsurprised.
“We have to work today, don’t we,” Eduardo grumbles to himself as he walks around to crawl back into bed (and Mark will never understand why it’s classier not to do the more efficient thing and move right onto the bed from the end). Mark nods, turning nearly automatically into Eduardo’s hold when those large, long-fingered hands grasp his shoulders and tug him close.
His hand drapes over Eduardo’s neck, and he whispers, “Facebook’s got an update in three days, Eduardo. I mentioned it at dinner last night and Dustin almost threw a fit, remember?” Eduardo snorts into his ear, which, gross, but he’s kind of laughing too.
So whatever.
“He knocked over that waitress bringing his dessert,” Eduardo mutters, and there’s so much amusement in his voice-and in his eyes, when Mark squirms down into position that’ll be more comfortable for the long haul. That aimless, unrestrained amusement is one of the reasons Mark laid himself on the line a year ago to get this back. Those dark eyes laughing with him (or at him) is something he missed at the worst times; something he needs to function on those days when everything else is complete shit.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice comes out somewhat breathless, and Eduardo hears it-of course he does; he’s Eduardo-and brings him back in, enfolding him. They’re both thin but Eduardo can hug hard enough to mimic a sheltering cave. Mark’s felt it, and he really kind of missed that too. Now it’s his whenever he wants.
They’re both still so new to this, but there are these days, when they’re effortless. When Mark doesn’t say anything harsh after Eduardo closes his laptop to take him home; when Eduardo doesn’t even have to ask before Mark hangs up with Dustin and starts preparing for bed. When the rain is louder than either of them feel the need to be.
Mark just turns his head and there’s Eduardo, right there (like in his dream; but it was more a memory), and then their mouths fit tight and Eduardo’s bony shoulder flexes under Mark’s arm so that they’re flush together and one of them makes a moaning sound that vibrates against their touching tongues.
Slinging an ankle over Eduardo’s hip under the blanket, Mark jerks when they line up properly-in the way that makes it unbearable to stay still when Eduardo comes up behind him as he’s flipping pancakes sometimes in the morning; in the way that ensures Mark can’t dance with Eduardo at public functions without embarrassing them both. (Not that dancing alone wouldn’t be sufficient humiliation.)
“Hah, Mark,” Eduardo lets the sound loose against his cheek when he moves like that, and then one of those long fingers is under his sweatpants (all he’s wearing after Eduardo got him into bed and straddled him without warning last night), tracing up and down the crease of his ass. He jolts again, squeezing his bottom lip between his teeth; he doesn’t usually care about breaking any kind of ambiance but this isn’t a morning for usual.
Shivers rip through the very top layer of his skin when Eduardo starts to play just lightly against the little cleft. Mark swears harshly, forgetting his lip completely as he hisses out the worst words he can think of. Because last night they’d used him well, and it still hurts a little.
“Shh,” Eduardo implores, wiggling his finger just enough but barely at all. Mark lets out a rush of breath and stays still even though part of him really wants to just sit down. He lets Eduardo do whatever he’s going to, keeping carefully observant eyes on Eduardo’s face as it tightens with concentration.
Eduardo would never hurt him. He’s certain of that.
“We’ll never make it to work if you stay this slow,” he teases, bucking his hips lightly until the tip of Eduardo’s finger slips in. It aches, but it’s good, and Mark doesn’t want to stop this right now. It’s grey and the rain is muffling: like they’re in a world entirely separate from the bustle of Palo Alto that no one there can reach. Mark doesn’t have much use for metaphor, as a rule, but there’s a feeling being boxed in by rain with Eduardo evokes in him. It’s undeniable, and so Mark doesn’t try.
Eduardo tilts his head, grinning, and the mess that is his hair brushes Mark’s forehead as he whispers, covert like someone’ll hear him, “You caught me.”
Mark snickers and shakes his head, mock-exasperated, because Eduardo’s the biggest dork and nobody really gets to see just how much the way Mark does. He kisses Eduardo anyway, still maybe laughing, and snatches fistfuls of dark hair to keep their lips pressed as tightly together as possible, huffing out little chuckles into Eduardo’s mouth when it falls open for him.
“Really, Mark. What if we stay home today?” It cuts off a little of his entertainment, reminds him how earnest Eduardo can be behind his corny Hallmark charm, and Mark thinks about it. He stops himself from flinching when Eduardo withdraws to let him concentrate, and pictures the day today, spent away from the glass walls of the office and the wheedle of Dustin’s voice teasing him about the dark mouth-shaped bruise on the back of his neck.
Spent with Eduardo’s hands smoothing over his back and his soft, warm laughter in his ear, as he chews a sandwich always made perfectly and they watch a movie from the behemoth collection they have downstairs.
Spent just…with Wardo. No one but Eduardo Saverin: Boyfriend Extraordinaire (though Mark doesn’t admit that; Wardo might get lazy then).
It’s not even a choice. He gets up onto his knees and pushes until he’s atop Eduardo’s chest (and the faces Eduardo makes when he scrabbles to stay in position make his belly squirm, wow) and gets right in his face to murmur,
“I’m up for that.”
Eduardo’s grin spreads over his face and he wraps himself around Mark, until Mark falls on him and they’re flush again. Mark makes a startled sound but nestles exactly where he ends up.
“I love you,” Eduardo whispers, and try as the rain may to drown it out, Mark can hear how he’s nothing but utterly sincere. He ducks his head and traces the words on Eduardo’s collarbone.
“Yeah. Yeah, me too, Wardo,” he says, when Eduardo’s silenced himself (even his breathing, almost) as though he’s waiting for something. He needs Eduardo to know; sometimes he calls him Wardo to make sure but there are times like this when he feels like he should say it outright.
Eduardo’s already tight hold goes just a little tighter, and Mark feels suffocated by affection, but in the best way. (Better suffocated than gasping for it like oxygen, as though Mark had sunk into the ocean without the proper preparations.)
“Mmm. You know how I think we should start our day off?” he asks Mark, nudging the tip of his nose into his hair until it tickles his scalp. Mark shakes his head, not even certain of what he’ll suggest.
Eduardo reaches over Mark’s hip where he’s pulled his finger free and out of his pants and grabs the blanket to cover them both as entirely as he can in this position. Mark lets out a soft breath, agreeing with what Eduardo’s going to say before he says it.
“Let’s go back to sleep, querido.”
Mark smiles, for just a moment, and looks up just in time to meet Eduardo’s eyes dead-on. He nods so that his hair rubs against Eduardo’s collarbone and worms his way out of Eduardo’s arms enough that they can both fall to the pillows without crushing anybody.
“I’ll make breakfast later if you do the laundry,” he bargains, and Eduardo lets out one last nearly silent laugh.
“Deal. Eggs Benedict?”
Mark yawns.
“Whatever you want, Wardo.”
He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know with total assurance that Eduardo’s watching the rain again.
But Eduardo will go back to giving him his full attention soon enough.
(Because they so rarely give or get anything less, after they’ve garnered a second chance; because they love each other instead of just need each other now.)
Mark is content with that and just about everything else, right now.
He lets it go, and sleeps.
Recipient: savetomorrow
Prompt Number: 121
Characters/Pairings: Mark/Eduardo
Rating/Warnings: Excessive shmoop (as was requested by the prompt, naturally)
Word Count: 2091
Disclaimer: This fanwork is based on fictional representations of the characters in The Social Network; I make no claims of ownership of the characters or concepts.
Summary (or prompt scenario): Eduardo and Mark relive a perfect moment and follow that with a perfect morning (while planning a perfect day)
Notes: I hope this is enough! I kept trying, but a perfect day of the boys vegging out just turned into tedium. Does a perfect (hopefully poignant) morning suffice?
Mark blinks his eyes open and Eduardo’s right there.
He’s on his stomach with his face turned toward the window, his gaze intent. He pillows his head on his folded arms and sighs, very quiet. He probably doesn’t want to wake Mark.
But Mark’s already awake. He makes a noise so Eduardo notices.
Eduardo looks away from the window for a moment and smiles at him. He’s kind of sleepy, Mark thinks, but his eyes are as big as they always get.
…When there’s a rainstorm.
“It’s raining,” he whispers, like the rain will go away if it hears him. (What a stupid thing to think-people don’t affect the weather that much at all. Mark would tell him, but he never listens, so it’s kind of a waste of his voice.)
His eyes are big and his smile is really sleepy and he’s kind of nice, this early in the morning when most things annoy Mark.
“I know,” he says back, and he doesn’t raise his voice. Eduardo would make shushing noises and he doesn’t want to fight with him when he’s like this.
Eduardo is sort of cute like this. Watching the rain the way a little kid watches a circus: spellbound by the fact that this type of thing could exist. Mark probably sometimes has that face on when he codes something to life, so it’s not like he gets to make fun of Eduardo for it.
Eduardo turns his head just the tiniest amount and glances at him, and then blushes. Blowing the fluff of his hair off his forehead, he moves another few inches sideways and leans down till Mark’s nose is poking his.
Mark makes a snuffling sound and Eduardo laughs, choking back the sound. He probably cares if Dustin hears in the next bed, not that far away from here.
Mark doesn’t. He pulls Eduardo down and kisses him. The rain pounds and mixes with how fast Eduardo’s breath gets; he uses his tongue and pushes harder against Eduardo until the panting drowns out the pattering on the window.
Triumphant as he pulls away, he grins. Eduardo shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
“Go back to sleep, querido.” he says under his breath once he’s able to catch it, not-quite-looking at Mark as the rainstorm steals his attention away from him again.
Mark huffs like he’s upset, but mostly he’s smiling.
And he does, closing his eyes slowly, so that he can see Eduardo’s eager face turned to watch the rain until the very. last. moment.
Mark blinks his eyes open again and shifts, looking for warmth: he’s sure there should be some near him, even if he’s fuzzy at the moment about why.
Eduardo looks over from the window where he’s standing, his arms crossed over his bare chest; the shadows of the rivers of rain down the window look like they’re disappearing into his silk pajamas. He smiles, and Mark closes his eyes for a second just to open them and make sure he’s still there.
He’s older and wiser and not quite as needy, but he’s still Wardo. So when Mark wriggles up to sit against the pillows, he’s kneeling on the bed nearly before Mark needed him there.
Eduardo has an uncanny knack nowadays for knowing what Mark wants before Mark does. It comes in handy, to say the least (and shows how far they’ve come; but Mark’s not in the mood to deal with all that history today).
Eduardo bends to kiss his mouth and Mark shivers. His hands are cold where one of them cups Mark’s cheek, and they’re neither of them all that warm to begin with.
“It’s raining,” Eduardo says, excitedly against his lips, and Mark wants to laugh at the déjà vu. He hadn’t realized his mind could be so…poetic. Nostalgic, even.
What’s he want with Harvard when he’s got this, anyway?
“I know,” he says, just for the closure (in case this is the kind of time loop Dustin would warn about: don’t fuck with it when history repeats itself, Marky Mark), pulling back down and away to look at Eduardo. His eyes are big; Mark’s unsurprised.
“We have to work today, don’t we,” Eduardo grumbles to himself as he walks around to crawl back into bed (and Mark will never understand why it’s classier not to do the more efficient thing and move right onto the bed from the end). Mark nods, turning nearly automatically into Eduardo’s hold when those large, long-fingered hands grasp his shoulders and tug him close.
His hand drapes over Eduardo’s neck, and he whispers, “Facebook’s got an update in three days, Eduardo. I mentioned it at dinner last night and Dustin almost threw a fit, remember?” Eduardo snorts into his ear, which, gross, but he’s kind of laughing too.
So whatever.
“He knocked over that waitress bringing his dessert,” Eduardo mutters, and there’s so much amusement in his voice-and in his eyes, when Mark squirms down into position that’ll be more comfortable for the long haul. That aimless, unrestrained amusement is one of the reasons Mark laid himself on the line a year ago to get this back. Those dark eyes laughing with him (or at him) is something he missed at the worst times; something he needs to function on those days when everything else is complete shit.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice comes out somewhat breathless, and Eduardo hears it-of course he does; he’s Eduardo-and brings him back in, enfolding him. They’re both thin but Eduardo can hug hard enough to mimic a sheltering cave. Mark’s felt it, and he really kind of missed that too. Now it’s his whenever he wants.
They’re both still so new to this, but there are these days, when they’re effortless. When Mark doesn’t say anything harsh after Eduardo closes his laptop to take him home; when Eduardo doesn’t even have to ask before Mark hangs up with Dustin and starts preparing for bed. When the rain is louder than either of them feel the need to be.
Mark just turns his head and there’s Eduardo, right there (like in his dream; but it was more a memory), and then their mouths fit tight and Eduardo’s bony shoulder flexes under Mark’s arm so that they’re flush together and one of them makes a moaning sound that vibrates against their touching tongues.
Slinging an ankle over Eduardo’s hip under the blanket, Mark jerks when they line up properly-in the way that makes it unbearable to stay still when Eduardo comes up behind him as he’s flipping pancakes sometimes in the morning; in the way that ensures Mark can’t dance with Eduardo at public functions without embarrassing them both. (Not that dancing alone wouldn’t be sufficient humiliation.)
“Hah, Mark,” Eduardo lets the sound loose against his cheek when he moves like that, and then one of those long fingers is under his sweatpants (all he’s wearing after Eduardo got him into bed and straddled him without warning last night), tracing up and down the crease of his ass. He jolts again, squeezing his bottom lip between his teeth; he doesn’t usually care about breaking any kind of ambiance but this isn’t a morning for usual.
Shivers rip through the very top layer of his skin when Eduardo starts to play just lightly against the little cleft. Mark swears harshly, forgetting his lip completely as he hisses out the worst words he can think of. Because last night they’d used him well, and it still hurts a little.
“Shh,” Eduardo implores, wiggling his finger just enough but barely at all. Mark lets out a rush of breath and stays still even though part of him really wants to just sit down. He lets Eduardo do whatever he’s going to, keeping carefully observant eyes on Eduardo’s face as it tightens with concentration.
Eduardo would never hurt him. He’s certain of that.
“We’ll never make it to work if you stay this slow,” he teases, bucking his hips lightly until the tip of Eduardo’s finger slips in. It aches, but it’s good, and Mark doesn’t want to stop this right now. It’s grey and the rain is muffling: like they’re in a world entirely separate from the bustle of Palo Alto that no one there can reach. Mark doesn’t have much use for metaphor, as a rule, but there’s a feeling being boxed in by rain with Eduardo evokes in him. It’s undeniable, and so Mark doesn’t try.
Eduardo tilts his head, grinning, and the mess that is his hair brushes Mark’s forehead as he whispers, covert like someone’ll hear him, “You caught me.”
Mark snickers and shakes his head, mock-exasperated, because Eduardo’s the biggest dork and nobody really gets to see just how much the way Mark does. He kisses Eduardo anyway, still maybe laughing, and snatches fistfuls of dark hair to keep their lips pressed as tightly together as possible, huffing out little chuckles into Eduardo’s mouth when it falls open for him.
“Really, Mark. What if we stay home today?” It cuts off a little of his entertainment, reminds him how earnest Eduardo can be behind his corny Hallmark charm, and Mark thinks about it. He stops himself from flinching when Eduardo withdraws to let him concentrate, and pictures the day today, spent away from the glass walls of the office and the wheedle of Dustin’s voice teasing him about the dark mouth-shaped bruise on the back of his neck.
Spent with Eduardo’s hands smoothing over his back and his soft, warm laughter in his ear, as he chews a sandwich always made perfectly and they watch a movie from the behemoth collection they have downstairs.
Spent just…with Wardo. No one but Eduardo Saverin: Boyfriend Extraordinaire (though Mark doesn’t admit that; Wardo might get lazy then).
It’s not even a choice. He gets up onto his knees and pushes until he’s atop Eduardo’s chest (and the faces Eduardo makes when he scrabbles to stay in position make his belly squirm, wow) and gets right in his face to murmur,
“I’m up for that.”
Eduardo’s grin spreads over his face and he wraps himself around Mark, until Mark falls on him and they’re flush again. Mark makes a startled sound but nestles exactly where he ends up.
“I love you,” Eduardo whispers, and try as the rain may to drown it out, Mark can hear how he’s nothing but utterly sincere. He ducks his head and traces the words on Eduardo’s collarbone.
“Yeah. Yeah, me too, Wardo,” he says, when Eduardo’s silenced himself (even his breathing, almost) as though he’s waiting for something. He needs Eduardo to know; sometimes he calls him Wardo to make sure but there are times like this when he feels like he should say it outright.
Eduardo’s already tight hold goes just a little tighter, and Mark feels suffocated by affection, but in the best way. (Better suffocated than gasping for it like oxygen, as though Mark had sunk into the ocean without the proper preparations.)
“Mmm. You know how I think we should start our day off?” he asks Mark, nudging the tip of his nose into his hair until it tickles his scalp. Mark shakes his head, not even certain of what he’ll suggest.
Eduardo reaches over Mark’s hip where he’s pulled his finger free and out of his pants and grabs the blanket to cover them both as entirely as he can in this position. Mark lets out a soft breath, agreeing with what Eduardo’s going to say before he says it.
“Let’s go back to sleep, querido.”
Mark smiles, for just a moment, and looks up just in time to meet Eduardo’s eyes dead-on. He nods so that his hair rubs against Eduardo’s collarbone and worms his way out of Eduardo’s arms enough that they can both fall to the pillows without crushing anybody.
“I’ll make breakfast later if you do the laundry,” he bargains, and Eduardo lets out one last nearly silent laugh.
“Deal. Eggs Benedict?”
Mark yawns.
“Whatever you want, Wardo.”
He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know with total assurance that Eduardo’s watching the rain again.
But Eduardo will go back to giving him his full attention soon enough.
(Because they so rarely give or get anything less, after they’ve garnered a second chance; because they love each other instead of just need each other now.)
Mark is content with that and just about everything else, right now.
He lets it go, and sleeps.