fiction .04
no good
mark/eduardo, pg-12
title via kate voegele, for jessikacast.
604 words
After the flaming bed incident, Eduardo catches the red eye back to San Francisco. He gets in at three in the morning and hopes to everything holy and good that it isn’t raining this time. Luckily, Mark picks him up. Mark sees him outside, Eduardo's custom-made shoes and Prada jacket probably more than the car and everything inside it. Mark's mouth twitches; he puts the car in park.
"I have something to show you."
“Is it a bed with my name on it?” Eduardo circles the car, heaves his luggage into the backseat. Mark turns down the radio when Eduardo slumps into the front seat, breathes out an irritable sigh.
"Better," Mark says. Eduardo nods, waits for a second as Mark maneuvers them from the airport.
“Well?”
Mark just looks at him, and if Eduardo didn’t know better, he’d say Mark almost smirks.
---
It's a long and quiet drive with Eduardo's intermittent snores, the radio on low. Mark glances at Eduardo every few miles.
Eduardo is asleep against the window, cheek pressed flat, hair skewed. When Mark finally opens the driver's side door, the sun is starting to rise and Mark shakes Eduardo softly.
"Wake up. We're here."
Eduardo groans, always a light sleeper. He rubs at his eyes.
"What do you mean here?"
"I mean here, Wardo. C’mon."
Eduardo groans, slides out of the car. He fumbles a little, legs not yet use to standing, less walking after a long flight and drive the car. “This doesn’t look like it was bought with an Eduardo Saverin Foundation grant.”
---
The windows of the new office reach to the ceiling, and although the flat is still empty, the place is filled with light and warmth that Eduardo isn’t sure he is quite welcoming yet. The pulling ache he feels in his limbs seems to seep into his marrow, so he settles himself on a wall, looking at the view. There isn't much but red brick. It looks yellow in the rising sun. Charming, for California. Somewhere in the back of his mind Eduardo notes that Mark is still talking. Incessant.
Suddenly (or not, Eduardo isn’t paying attention), Mark presses in close, fingers curling around his shoulders, sliding to his elbows, latching on firmly, holding Eduardo in place. “What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm?”
“Jesus Christ-”
Mark ignores him. “An idea, Wardo. I have a new idea.”
“That’s comforting,” Eduardo manages. Mark is obsessed, and he really can’t do this west coast time change thing anymore.
“Remember the algorithm on the window at Kirkland?”
Eduardo nods, hesitant. “Yeah.”
This time Mark genuinely does smirk. He is clumsy in his kiss, gets the corner of Euardo's mouth on the first try, even has to tiptoe until the contact is firm and soft and complete.
This doesn’t happen very often-- never like this, usually they're drunk, and really Eduardo thinks Mark sets him up to be in some kind of punch drunk mentality when it does.
Mark’s hands are impatient; fingers tug at Eduardo’s jacket, work the buttons on his shirt. Eduardo nearly chokes when Mark gets too greedy and tries to take it off over his head. The collar catches around his chin, and has to take his hands off Mark long enough to detangle the makeshift noose. Something pulls in the back of his mind that it isn’t the last time he’ll be put in this kind of situation, but Mark is talking about something called PASIV and right now Eduardo can really think of a better use of that mouth.
mark/eduardo, pg-12
title via kate voegele, for jessikacast.
604 words
After the flaming bed incident, Eduardo catches the red eye back to San Francisco. He gets in at three in the morning and hopes to everything holy and good that it isn’t raining this time. Luckily, Mark picks him up. Mark sees him outside, Eduardo's custom-made shoes and Prada jacket probably more than the car and everything inside it. Mark's mouth twitches; he puts the car in park.
"I have something to show you."
“Is it a bed with my name on it?” Eduardo circles the car, heaves his luggage into the backseat. Mark turns down the radio when Eduardo slumps into the front seat, breathes out an irritable sigh.
"Better," Mark says. Eduardo nods, waits for a second as Mark maneuvers them from the airport.
“Well?”
Mark just looks at him, and if Eduardo didn’t know better, he’d say Mark almost smirks.
---
It's a long and quiet drive with Eduardo's intermittent snores, the radio on low. Mark glances at Eduardo every few miles.
Eduardo is asleep against the window, cheek pressed flat, hair skewed. When Mark finally opens the driver's side door, the sun is starting to rise and Mark shakes Eduardo softly.
"Wake up. We're here."
Eduardo groans, always a light sleeper. He rubs at his eyes.
"What do you mean here?"
"I mean here, Wardo. C’mon."
Eduardo groans, slides out of the car. He fumbles a little, legs not yet use to standing, less walking after a long flight and drive the car. “This doesn’t look like it was bought with an Eduardo Saverin Foundation grant.”
---
The windows of the new office reach to the ceiling, and although the flat is still empty, the place is filled with light and warmth that Eduardo isn’t sure he is quite welcoming yet. The pulling ache he feels in his limbs seems to seep into his marrow, so he settles himself on a wall, looking at the view. There isn't much but red brick. It looks yellow in the rising sun. Charming, for California. Somewhere in the back of his mind Eduardo notes that Mark is still talking. Incessant.
Suddenly (or not, Eduardo isn’t paying attention), Mark presses in close, fingers curling around his shoulders, sliding to his elbows, latching on firmly, holding Eduardo in place. “What is the most resilient parasite? Bacteria? A virus? An intestinal worm?”
“Jesus Christ-”
Mark ignores him. “An idea, Wardo. I have a new idea.”
“That’s comforting,” Eduardo manages. Mark is obsessed, and he really can’t do this west coast time change thing anymore.
“Remember the algorithm on the window at Kirkland?”
Eduardo nods, hesitant. “Yeah.”
This time Mark genuinely does smirk. He is clumsy in his kiss, gets the corner of Euardo's mouth on the first try, even has to tiptoe until the contact is firm and soft and complete.
This doesn’t happen very often-- never like this, usually they're drunk, and really Eduardo thinks Mark sets him up to be in some kind of punch drunk mentality when it does.
Mark’s hands are impatient; fingers tug at Eduardo’s jacket, work the buttons on his shirt. Eduardo nearly chokes when Mark gets too greedy and tries to take it off over his head. The collar catches around his chin, and has to take his hands off Mark long enough to detangle the makeshift noose. Something pulls in the back of his mind that it isn’t the last time he’ll be put in this kind of situation, but Mark is talking about something called PASIV and right now Eduardo can really think of a better use of that mouth.