fic: the struggle and the progress
fic: the struggle and the progress (aka more political!AU)
pairing: mark/eduardo
notes: more in this universe! and there'll probs be more still. too much fun to write. pretentious title is from the same line of obama's victory speech. also it gets real fluffy heeee, <33
this has a bit of an abrupt ending because there will be more. sooooooo, yeah.
So Mark guesses they're "dating", then. Sort of. They sleep at each other's places and go out for meals and still have insane brainstorming sessions in Eduardo's office until 4 AM except sometimes now they'll sleep together on the couch. It's not that different. It's nice. Mark wasn't sure what to expect. He's never had a real functioning longer-than-thirty-six hours relationship before. Which makes him sound sort of like a womanizer or a slut, but that's definitely not it. He's just way too fucking busy.
Three weeks after election night, some local web-rag gets a picture of them, kissing very demurely outside some Italian restaurant in Georgetown. Eduardo is cupping Mark's jaw in his hand, and Mark has one hand on Eduardo's waist.
No one actually picks it up for three days. The Hill isn't quite Hollywood, and the picture languishes online until some entrepreneurial kid from WSJ finds it and recognizes them and sends it to Fox and then it's everywhere. This is obviously proof that the President is planning and enforcing a radical homosexual agenda. Maybe they could have dealt with one gay person in the White House, though Chris himself had received his fair share of bad press and dirty looks. But three?
Mark is sleeping in Eduardo's bed when the shit hits the fan, which is just fantastically appropriate.
Eduardo's breathing against the back of his neck, leg nudged in between Mark's, an arm slung over his waist, and Mark's Blackberry buzzes. It's Chris.
get up the hill now if you are at eduardo's leave immediately
and then a link:
www.wsj.com/s22.html/the-presidents-cabinet:-don't-ask-don't-tell-?
Mark sits up straight when it loads, adrenaline sharpening every sense until he feels hyperaware, buzzing with it.
"Fucking shit," he says, and Eduardo rolls over onto his back, mumbles something.
Mark kicks on his pants, shrugs on his hoodie, and fuck, fuck, he didn't even drive here, Eduardo had driven him. Fuck. He can't get a cab, because reporters will be all over it any minute now and it's too long, too fucking long.
He stumbles into the early morning air. DC's cold this time of year, brisk, and Mark shivers, calling Chris with one hand, clasping his briefcase closed with the other. He sits down at a bus stop, puts the hood over his head.
"Where are you," Chris says.
"At a bus stop near Eduardo's. I don't have a car here, Chris. Fuck."
"Okay. Okay, everything's going to be okay. Just stay there."
"Chris-"
"Not fucking now, okay? It is a Thursday morning and the goddamn SOTU is in three weeks and this cannot be happening right now but it is, so shut the fuck up and wait there. I'm coming."
Mark hangs up and taps out an email to Eduardo. His hands are shaking.
e-
wsj has pictures of us i'm going back up the hill will email you with details/strategy soon
He considers it for a second, then adds-
left before you woke up. sorry.
And just as he hits Send his phone buzzes, rings. It's Eduardo. Mark looks at it for a second. He really shouldn't answer, but whatever, it'll take Chris at least ten minutes to navigate traffic.
"Yeah?"
"Mark?" Eduardo's voice is sleepy, thick. "Did you leave?"
"Yeah. Check your emails. We're - " he pauses. What are they? How are they going to do this? God, this is fucking unprecedented and if Eduardo wants him to pretend they never did… whatever they did, then Mark will. Mark knows Eduardo's father.
"We're- they have pictures of us, Wardo."
"What?" His voice is sharp. "Where?"
"In front of La Focca, last week. Fuck, Wardo, they're going to be everywhere."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eduardo's saying. "I need to get dressed."
"I'm at the bus stop. Chris is coming to get me."
"Yeah, that's probably good. Be discreet."
"Are you sure, cause I was thinking about just standing in the middle of the road and screaming, "I just fucked Eduardo Saverin!" Mark says harshly.
Eduardo just exhales distractedly, business-like, says "Email me," and hangs up.
Mark leans his head against the side of the bus shelter, checks his emails. Twenty-five new already and they keep coming in and they are so fucked.
Hi Marky-
Saw the pictures! What a looker! I can't believe you haven't had him home for dinner!!!
Love, your mama
and then-
dude fuck i swear to god i didn't say anything. chris is going to murder me and it will be your fault
from Dustin, and of course-
omg are you okay? EMAIL ME BACK SO I KNOW YOU'RE OKAY. if you get fired i'll slap a lawsuit on his ass i don't care if he's the president. i love you little bro!!!
from his sister. He responds to that one, because she worries about him, and then stuffs the phone in his pocket as Chris pulls up.
The situation is a classic clusterfuck. The President can't fire them because one half of the country will go up in arms. He doesn't want to fire them anyway. But, of course, he can't be all chill about it because the other half of the country will go up in arms about his radical insidious homosexual agenda. Literal arms, probably. Those people have guns.
What he does is call them in for a conference, with Chris.
"Sir, may I just say how sorry I am," Eduardo says by way of greeting, and Mark moves to stick a hand in his pocket before realizing he's wearing a suit that hasn't got them.
"Mark," the President says, and Mark looks up. "What do you suggest we do?"
Chris is itching to say something. He looks like he's practically about to raise his hand. Mark breathes out, lays his hand on the table.
"Sir, I regret that our- Eduardo and my- relationship was exposed in this manner. It was foolish to have been conducting ourselves in that manner in public. However, with all due respect, I have no intention of ending our relationship or doing something like- like-" he stammers off. Eduardo's looking very carefully at the table, cheeks pink. Chris is staring at him with mixed exasperation and pride.
"What I mean is that I don't have any shame about what happened, or what is happening, between me and Eduardo."
There's a silence. Mark really wants to stick his fingernail in his mouth but he hasn't bit his nails since he was thirteen.
"Mark," the President says, sighing, and Chris butts in.
"Sir, if I may. This can actually be a boost for our PR. You know the left's been getting antsy because of DADT. They could be a poster couple, a symbol of your commitment to gay rights."
Mark snorts. Eduardo's looking up at him under his eyelashes, face oddly serious but amused, like two separate halves.
"Here's the deal, guys. I have a year and a half left of my second term, and of course I want to accomplish as much as possible, but it's not like I have another election coming up. You two are extremely important assets to this administration. I'm not usually one to make decisions without having Gage go over the polls but I'm also still a human. You're happy. Be happy. Just be happy a little more discreetly and it'll be fine."
Mark is hot, neck burning.
"Well, now that I've got presidential approval," he mutters, and Eduardo laughs chokily. Chris is writing things, taking notes, sliding pieces of paper over to the President.
"Sir, I-" Eduardo starts. "Thank you." Chris shoos them out, sliding across the table to talk to the President, and they stand to leave.
"Saverin-"
Eduardo turns, clutching a legal pad to his chest.
"Don't let him out in public. He doesn't have a great track record."
Eduardo laughs, and Chris says, "I'll send you an official strategy," and Mark feels a little bit like they've just negotiated some treaty. But of course it's not, it's just their two lives. The rest of it, what they're doing, is so much bigger than them. Mark feels unimportant for a second, and for the first time in his life, actually likes it.
Eduardo smiles at him and goes to his office, and Mark collapses in his desk chair.
"So," Dustin says, popping his head over the cubicle.
"What?"
"What happened!? What'd he say? I've already written a tweet. white house is a gay sex den, in other news lets repeal DADT!"
"You need to get laid," Mark says, and goes hot when he realizes what it implies.
"Oooh, like you, Mark? I need to get some hot man-loving?"
"If there's ever an undercover reporter here, at any point, we are so fucked," Mark says, and puts in his headphones.
----
Senator Saverin is giving a speech, a month later, and they're all watching in Chris' office. He's one of the leaders of the party, and being a Republican Senator in Florida is pretty damn important. People are crazy down there.
"I am very excited to begin work with this president and this Congress. I hope that the Senate finds it within themselves to let go of party differences and learn how to compromise, an area in which they have been severely lacking in the last two years."
Dustin snorts from where he's scrolling through his laptop. Chris is taking notes.
"There has been talk about social initiatives lacking proper drive by the party and I want to assure the public that our goals and morals remain strong. We will not fall on issues such as gun control, abortion, and homosexual marriage, and in fact there is an opportunity in this next Congress to make progress on solidifying the country's values."
Mark sneaks a look at Eduardo. He's impassive, but he's curled one hand into his fist. No one else is looking. Mark puts his hand over Eduardo's.
"This is a time for action," Senator Saverin is saying, and Eduardo wraps his fingers one by one around Mark's hand. He's trembling slightly. "There has been talk that a personal situation will drive me from my principles but I assure you that the morality of this great nation will always be my top priority."
Eduardo stands up and leaves.
"Shit," Dustin says quietly, and Chris motions to Mark, mouthing go after him, idiot.
Mark finds Eduardo in his office, typing furiously. He stands awkwardly in front of the desk.
"Hey," he says, and Eduardo doesn't look up.
"I have a lot of stuff to get done," he says tightly.
Mark doesn't know what to say.
"What are you doing?" he asks, though he knows. Eduardo should be working the numbers for the new veterans' bill and scheduling a meeting with the CBO and writing up a tentative proposal of the spring budget.
He's just clicking aimlessly, too hard, and Mark sits on his desk, next to him, reaches out a tentative hand to his neck. Eduardo flinches at first, then relaxes.
"I'm sorry, just-" he stops, closing his mouth deliberately.
"He'd never get re-elected if-" Mark starts weakly, and Eduardo nods.
"Of course, he'd never get fucking reelected. That's his top priority, isn't it. Always. Fucking re e-fucking-lection."
He slams his laptop shut.
"The President of the fucking United States approved of our- of you and me. You know what my father told a reporter? Said he cared deeply about me and would be working with me to resolve my problem."
"Asshole," Mark says reflexively. Eduardo just stares into space.
"He's not. He's not good enough for you," Mark says, stiltedly. Eduardo scrubs a hand over his face and smiles weakly.
"Let's just not talk about it." He stands up and kisses Mark lightly, on the corner of his mouth. His lips are cool and dry.
"Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?" he says, putting his hand on Mark's hip, under the hoodie.
"Yeah," Mark says, nosing at the line of Eduardo's jaw, breathing him in.
"Good," Eduardo murmurs, looking up at Mark through his eyelashes. He pushes at Mark's hips, sits down again, and Mark leaves. He physically can't stop his mouth from curling up into a smile, and Dustin just starts laughing when he sees him. Mark raises his middle finger and sits down at his desk.
---
"What are we all gathering around?" Eduardo asks, a couple weeks later, wrapping his fingers around the top of Mark's cubicle. Mark goes red and tries to shove it under his desk but Dustin grins around a mouthful and hands Eduardo a muffin.
"White House care package!" he exclaims delightedly. "Seriously, these are the shit."
"Mark's mom sends him a package full of baked goods every couple months," Erica explains, two cookies in her hand. "It's pretty much the only time I consent to talk to him."
Mark flicks her off, and she smacks the back of his head and steals another cookie.
"That's adorable," Eduardo says, looking down at his muffin. Mark looks at him with a pained expression.
"She just has way too much spare time. It's not a big deal."
"Shut up, bro, these are like the highlights of my life. Except for that time when I got retweeted by Kanye."
Chris comes over to them, hand that's not clutching a Blackberry outstretched, and Mark drops a Ziploc baggie in his hand. Eduardo peeks at it. For my darling Chris, it says. Eduardo snorts.
"Not fair," Dustin whines, pushing himself away from the cubicle and hanging all over Chris. "I want a personalized package of goodies from Mrs. Zuckerberg."
"Maybe you shouldn't have gone to Cornell, then," Chris says, snatching it away.
"Your mom bakes for you?" Eduardo asks, after the crowd has mostly dispersed. There's a few crumbs left in the box.
"Shut up," Mark mutters, and Eduardo rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He's laughing.
"That is so sweet," he murmurs to himself. "Literally. Ha."
"I'm going to ignore that attempt at humor," Mark says, and Eduardo snorts, leaning down and kissing Mark swiftly on the lips. Mark goes hot, and Eduardo slaps the side of his cubicle.
"Strategy sesh tonight? I'll order Pei Wei."
"If you promise to never say 'sesh' again, sure," Mark says, and Eduardo sticks his tongue out. Mark opens a desk drawer reluctantly.
"Here," he says, pulling out a paper plate covered in saran wrap. "She did it. It was her. Not me."
There's a Post-It attached.
Hi Eduardo! I made Mark tell me your favorite dessert. I wanted to formally invite you to Thanksgiving at our house this year! We'd all love to have you!! Can't wait to meet you! Love, Linda
Eduardo's silent, biting his lip. Mark is typing furiously, not looking up. The tips of his ears are burning.
"I- " Eduardo's voice is very flat and controlled. "I-"
Mark reaches out and grabs Eduardo's hand in his, silently, still not looking up. He's not sure why.
"Thank you. Thank- thank her."
Mark nods. Eduardo lets go of Mark's hand and leaves. He's walking straight-backed and steadily. Mark is really fucking confused.
He emails Chris.
okay so my mom sent wardo a package and he just goes 'thank you' and walks off, does he hate it? maybe he's allergic to nuts. there are nuts in the brownies, obviously. do you think i should talk to him about it.
Chris emails back a half hour later, and Mark can practically hear him sighing
jesus, mark. he's obviously all overcome because his family's so fucked up. go talk to him. also i'm saving this email forever , under 'mark zuckerberg is a 14 year old girl'.
Mark exhales and throws the phone on the desk, stands up and walks into Eduardo's office.
The plate is unopened, next to Eduardo's computer. Eduardo is typing, and he looks up when Mark comes in and then down again, too quickly.
"It was really nice of her," he says quietly. "Seriously, tell her thank you."
"I will," Mark says. "Are you- Wardo, are you okay?"
Eduardo looks up at him then, and his eyes are dark. He's shaking slightly.
"I'm fine," he says tonelessly, and then he puts his head down on his hands.
"I just don't want to fuck this up," he says, muffled. Mark is even more confused. If anyone would ever fuck up anything, it is Mark.
"This- like, us?"
"I don't have people in my family, like that. I don't even know- I don't- " he breaks off, lifting his head. His eyes are dry, but he keeps pulling his lips tight.
"I'm sorry," he says, and laughs to himself. "God, I'm just so ill-equipped."
"Do I seem like an expert on feelings to you?" Mark says, leaning against Eduardo's desk.
"But they have to love you. They're your family."
Mark sort of sees the logic, but, but-
"I love you though," he says without thinking, and goes bright red. Eduardo is looking at him, eyes huge. Mark swallows uneasily.
"Mark," he whispers, and Mark cuts him off.
"We don't have to- it's okay if you don't. I was just."
"God, it's 4pm on a Thursday and I'm at work," Eduardo says to himself, like he's had some fantasy since he was a kid about where he'd be when this happened. Mark thinks about it. It's actually entirely possible. Eduardo is a romantic.
"I love you too," Eduardo says, carefully and determinedly, and he breaks into a grin. Mark's mouth is quirking up at the edge, and Eduardo stands up between Mark's legs and kisses him gently on the mouth. Mark inhales and kisses back, taking note of the taste and the feel of him, the fact that they're in his office, appropriately. The way Eduardo smells, his neck, like expensive understated cologne and soap.
There's a knock on the door, and Chris comes in without waiting for a response. "Eduardo, I need to go over a couple projections with you before-" he stops, looking up. Mark is leaning back, and Eduardo's stepping away, but their cheeks are flushed and Mark knows how full Eduardo's lips get when he's been kissed.
"Sorry," Chris says, grinning to himself. "Just- sorry." He shakes his head, still grinning, and closes the door behind him.
Eduardo laughs, turning around, and catches Mark's lips one last time with his own.
"I need to work," he says softly. Mark nods, puts his open mouth on Eduardo's neck.
"Still want Pei Wei tonight?" he murmurs, and Eduardo shudders.
"Only till midnight," he says. "Want you to fuck me, after that."
"Jesus, Wardo."
Eduardo laughs into his hair. "Send me your statement about the budget before you publish it, okay?"
Mark nods, pushes him away.
"You're in my office," Eduardo says, mock-bossily, and Mark makes a face and walks out.
He checks his Blackberry.
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
don't you dare have sex in the White House. but, you know, i'm proud of you. you done good, mark zuckerberg.
oh and tell linda thanks for the cupcakes. delicious as usual!
Mark snorts.
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
checked that off the bucket list already, chris.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
you better mean thanking your mom and not the first sentence. mark what have i said about wikileaks.
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
okay, you don't understand technology because you're a humanities major, but the scary little hacker aliens can't get these emails.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
you mean i don't have to wear this foil helmet?!!!!!
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
I'M LAUGHING SO HARD RIGHT NOW CHRIS CAN YOU HEAR ME HA HA HA.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
go back to work. dustin's doing more work than you.
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
that is physically impossible.
----
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
and yet.
---
fr: dustin moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
to: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov, mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
OMG I CAN SEE YOU GUYS EMALING EACH OTHER STOP IT I FEEL SO LEFT OUT
---
to: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
fr: dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
chris and your loverboy are being mean and not telling me what they're e-mailing about. fix it.
---
fr: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
to: dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
yeah, i know. they're emailing me too. we've been talking about you.
---
fr; dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.edu
to: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
IDK IF U CAN SEE ME BUT IM POUTING
----
more to come at some point :D
pairing: mark/eduardo
notes: more in this universe! and there'll probs be more still. too much fun to write. pretentious title is from the same line of obama's victory speech. also it gets real fluffy heeee, <33
this has a bit of an abrupt ending because there will be more. sooooooo, yeah.
So Mark guesses they're "dating", then. Sort of. They sleep at each other's places and go out for meals and still have insane brainstorming sessions in Eduardo's office until 4 AM except sometimes now they'll sleep together on the couch. It's not that different. It's nice. Mark wasn't sure what to expect. He's never had a real functioning longer-than-thirty-six hours relationship before. Which makes him sound sort of like a womanizer or a slut, but that's definitely not it. He's just way too fucking busy.
Three weeks after election night, some local web-rag gets a picture of them, kissing very demurely outside some Italian restaurant in Georgetown. Eduardo is cupping Mark's jaw in his hand, and Mark has one hand on Eduardo's waist.
No one actually picks it up for three days. The Hill isn't quite Hollywood, and the picture languishes online until some entrepreneurial kid from WSJ finds it and recognizes them and sends it to Fox and then it's everywhere. This is obviously proof that the President is planning and enforcing a radical homosexual agenda. Maybe they could have dealt with one gay person in the White House, though Chris himself had received his fair share of bad press and dirty looks. But three?
Mark is sleeping in Eduardo's bed when the shit hits the fan, which is just fantastically appropriate.
Eduardo's breathing against the back of his neck, leg nudged in between Mark's, an arm slung over his waist, and Mark's Blackberry buzzes. It's Chris.
get up the hill now if you are at eduardo's leave immediately
and then a link:
www.wsj.com/s22.html/the-presidents-cabinet:-don't-ask-don't-tell-?
Mark sits up straight when it loads, adrenaline sharpening every sense until he feels hyperaware, buzzing with it.
"Fucking shit," he says, and Eduardo rolls over onto his back, mumbles something.
Mark kicks on his pants, shrugs on his hoodie, and fuck, fuck, he didn't even drive here, Eduardo had driven him. Fuck. He can't get a cab, because reporters will be all over it any minute now and it's too long, too fucking long.
He stumbles into the early morning air. DC's cold this time of year, brisk, and Mark shivers, calling Chris with one hand, clasping his briefcase closed with the other. He sits down at a bus stop, puts the hood over his head.
"Where are you," Chris says.
"At a bus stop near Eduardo's. I don't have a car here, Chris. Fuck."
"Okay. Okay, everything's going to be okay. Just stay there."
"Chris-"
"Not fucking now, okay? It is a Thursday morning and the goddamn SOTU is in three weeks and this cannot be happening right now but it is, so shut the fuck up and wait there. I'm coming."
Mark hangs up and taps out an email to Eduardo. His hands are shaking.
e-
wsj has pictures of us i'm going back up the hill will email you with details/strategy soon
He considers it for a second, then adds-
left before you woke up. sorry.
And just as he hits Send his phone buzzes, rings. It's Eduardo. Mark looks at it for a second. He really shouldn't answer, but whatever, it'll take Chris at least ten minutes to navigate traffic.
"Yeah?"
"Mark?" Eduardo's voice is sleepy, thick. "Did you leave?"
"Yeah. Check your emails. We're - " he pauses. What are they? How are they going to do this? God, this is fucking unprecedented and if Eduardo wants him to pretend they never did… whatever they did, then Mark will. Mark knows Eduardo's father.
"We're- they have pictures of us, Wardo."
"What?" His voice is sharp. "Where?"
"In front of La Focca, last week. Fuck, Wardo, they're going to be everywhere."
"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eduardo's saying. "I need to get dressed."
"I'm at the bus stop. Chris is coming to get me."
"Yeah, that's probably good. Be discreet."
"Are you sure, cause I was thinking about just standing in the middle of the road and screaming, "I just fucked Eduardo Saverin!" Mark says harshly.
Eduardo just exhales distractedly, business-like, says "Email me," and hangs up.
Mark leans his head against the side of the bus shelter, checks his emails. Twenty-five new already and they keep coming in and they are so fucked.
Hi Marky-
Saw the pictures! What a looker! I can't believe you haven't had him home for dinner!!!
Love, your mama
and then-
dude fuck i swear to god i didn't say anything. chris is going to murder me and it will be your fault
from Dustin, and of course-
omg are you okay? EMAIL ME BACK SO I KNOW YOU'RE OKAY. if you get fired i'll slap a lawsuit on his ass i don't care if he's the president. i love you little bro!!!
from his sister. He responds to that one, because she worries about him, and then stuffs the phone in his pocket as Chris pulls up.
The situation is a classic clusterfuck. The President can't fire them because one half of the country will go up in arms. He doesn't want to fire them anyway. But, of course, he can't be all chill about it because the other half of the country will go up in arms about his radical insidious homosexual agenda. Literal arms, probably. Those people have guns.
What he does is call them in for a conference, with Chris.
"Sir, may I just say how sorry I am," Eduardo says by way of greeting, and Mark moves to stick a hand in his pocket before realizing he's wearing a suit that hasn't got them.
"Mark," the President says, and Mark looks up. "What do you suggest we do?"
Chris is itching to say something. He looks like he's practically about to raise his hand. Mark breathes out, lays his hand on the table.
"Sir, I regret that our- Eduardo and my- relationship was exposed in this manner. It was foolish to have been conducting ourselves in that manner in public. However, with all due respect, I have no intention of ending our relationship or doing something like- like-" he stammers off. Eduardo's looking very carefully at the table, cheeks pink. Chris is staring at him with mixed exasperation and pride.
"What I mean is that I don't have any shame about what happened, or what is happening, between me and Eduardo."
There's a silence. Mark really wants to stick his fingernail in his mouth but he hasn't bit his nails since he was thirteen.
"Mark," the President says, sighing, and Chris butts in.
"Sir, if I may. This can actually be a boost for our PR. You know the left's been getting antsy because of DADT. They could be a poster couple, a symbol of your commitment to gay rights."
Mark snorts. Eduardo's looking up at him under his eyelashes, face oddly serious but amused, like two separate halves.
"Here's the deal, guys. I have a year and a half left of my second term, and of course I want to accomplish as much as possible, but it's not like I have another election coming up. You two are extremely important assets to this administration. I'm not usually one to make decisions without having Gage go over the polls but I'm also still a human. You're happy. Be happy. Just be happy a little more discreetly and it'll be fine."
Mark is hot, neck burning.
"Well, now that I've got presidential approval," he mutters, and Eduardo laughs chokily. Chris is writing things, taking notes, sliding pieces of paper over to the President.
"Sir, I-" Eduardo starts. "Thank you." Chris shoos them out, sliding across the table to talk to the President, and they stand to leave.
"Saverin-"
Eduardo turns, clutching a legal pad to his chest.
"Don't let him out in public. He doesn't have a great track record."
Eduardo laughs, and Chris says, "I'll send you an official strategy," and Mark feels a little bit like they've just negotiated some treaty. But of course it's not, it's just their two lives. The rest of it, what they're doing, is so much bigger than them. Mark feels unimportant for a second, and for the first time in his life, actually likes it.
Eduardo smiles at him and goes to his office, and Mark collapses in his desk chair.
"So," Dustin says, popping his head over the cubicle.
"What?"
"What happened!? What'd he say? I've already written a tweet. white house is a gay sex den, in other news lets repeal DADT!"
"You need to get laid," Mark says, and goes hot when he realizes what it implies.
"Oooh, like you, Mark? I need to get some hot man-loving?"
"If there's ever an undercover reporter here, at any point, we are so fucked," Mark says, and puts in his headphones.
----
Senator Saverin is giving a speech, a month later, and they're all watching in Chris' office. He's one of the leaders of the party, and being a Republican Senator in Florida is pretty damn important. People are crazy down there.
"I am very excited to begin work with this president and this Congress. I hope that the Senate finds it within themselves to let go of party differences and learn how to compromise, an area in which they have been severely lacking in the last two years."
Dustin snorts from where he's scrolling through his laptop. Chris is taking notes.
"There has been talk about social initiatives lacking proper drive by the party and I want to assure the public that our goals and morals remain strong. We will not fall on issues such as gun control, abortion, and homosexual marriage, and in fact there is an opportunity in this next Congress to make progress on solidifying the country's values."
Mark sneaks a look at Eduardo. He's impassive, but he's curled one hand into his fist. No one else is looking. Mark puts his hand over Eduardo's.
"This is a time for action," Senator Saverin is saying, and Eduardo wraps his fingers one by one around Mark's hand. He's trembling slightly. "There has been talk that a personal situation will drive me from my principles but I assure you that the morality of this great nation will always be my top priority."
Eduardo stands up and leaves.
"Shit," Dustin says quietly, and Chris motions to Mark, mouthing go after him, idiot.
Mark finds Eduardo in his office, typing furiously. He stands awkwardly in front of the desk.
"Hey," he says, and Eduardo doesn't look up.
"I have a lot of stuff to get done," he says tightly.
Mark doesn't know what to say.
"What are you doing?" he asks, though he knows. Eduardo should be working the numbers for the new veterans' bill and scheduling a meeting with the CBO and writing up a tentative proposal of the spring budget.
He's just clicking aimlessly, too hard, and Mark sits on his desk, next to him, reaches out a tentative hand to his neck. Eduardo flinches at first, then relaxes.
"I'm sorry, just-" he stops, closing his mouth deliberately.
"He'd never get re-elected if-" Mark starts weakly, and Eduardo nods.
"Of course, he'd never get fucking reelected. That's his top priority, isn't it. Always. Fucking re e-fucking-lection."
He slams his laptop shut.
"The President of the fucking United States approved of our- of you and me. You know what my father told a reporter? Said he cared deeply about me and would be working with me to resolve my problem."
"Asshole," Mark says reflexively. Eduardo just stares into space.
"He's not. He's not good enough for you," Mark says, stiltedly. Eduardo scrubs a hand over his face and smiles weakly.
"Let's just not talk about it." He stands up and kisses Mark lightly, on the corner of his mouth. His lips are cool and dry.
"Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?" he says, putting his hand on Mark's hip, under the hoodie.
"Yeah," Mark says, nosing at the line of Eduardo's jaw, breathing him in.
"Good," Eduardo murmurs, looking up at Mark through his eyelashes. He pushes at Mark's hips, sits down again, and Mark leaves. He physically can't stop his mouth from curling up into a smile, and Dustin just starts laughing when he sees him. Mark raises his middle finger and sits down at his desk.
---
"What are we all gathering around?" Eduardo asks, a couple weeks later, wrapping his fingers around the top of Mark's cubicle. Mark goes red and tries to shove it under his desk but Dustin grins around a mouthful and hands Eduardo a muffin.
"White House care package!" he exclaims delightedly. "Seriously, these are the shit."
"Mark's mom sends him a package full of baked goods every couple months," Erica explains, two cookies in her hand. "It's pretty much the only time I consent to talk to him."
Mark flicks her off, and she smacks the back of his head and steals another cookie.
"That's adorable," Eduardo says, looking down at his muffin. Mark looks at him with a pained expression.
"She just has way too much spare time. It's not a big deal."
"Shut up, bro, these are like the highlights of my life. Except for that time when I got retweeted by Kanye."
Chris comes over to them, hand that's not clutching a Blackberry outstretched, and Mark drops a Ziploc baggie in his hand. Eduardo peeks at it. For my darling Chris, it says. Eduardo snorts.
"Not fair," Dustin whines, pushing himself away from the cubicle and hanging all over Chris. "I want a personalized package of goodies from Mrs. Zuckerberg."
"Maybe you shouldn't have gone to Cornell, then," Chris says, snatching it away.
"Your mom bakes for you?" Eduardo asks, after the crowd has mostly dispersed. There's a few crumbs left in the box.
"Shut up," Mark mutters, and Eduardo rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He's laughing.
"That is so sweet," he murmurs to himself. "Literally. Ha."
"I'm going to ignore that attempt at humor," Mark says, and Eduardo snorts, leaning down and kissing Mark swiftly on the lips. Mark goes hot, and Eduardo slaps the side of his cubicle.
"Strategy sesh tonight? I'll order Pei Wei."
"If you promise to never say 'sesh' again, sure," Mark says, and Eduardo sticks his tongue out. Mark opens a desk drawer reluctantly.
"Here," he says, pulling out a paper plate covered in saran wrap. "She did it. It was her. Not me."
There's a Post-It attached.
Hi Eduardo! I made Mark tell me your favorite dessert. I wanted to formally invite you to Thanksgiving at our house this year! We'd all love to have you!! Can't wait to meet you! Love, Linda
Eduardo's silent, biting his lip. Mark is typing furiously, not looking up. The tips of his ears are burning.
"I- " Eduardo's voice is very flat and controlled. "I-"
Mark reaches out and grabs Eduardo's hand in his, silently, still not looking up. He's not sure why.
"Thank you. Thank- thank her."
Mark nods. Eduardo lets go of Mark's hand and leaves. He's walking straight-backed and steadily. Mark is really fucking confused.
He emails Chris.
okay so my mom sent wardo a package and he just goes 'thank you' and walks off, does he hate it? maybe he's allergic to nuts. there are nuts in the brownies, obviously. do you think i should talk to him about it.
Chris emails back a half hour later, and Mark can practically hear him sighing
jesus, mark. he's obviously all overcome because his family's so fucked up. go talk to him. also i'm saving this email forever , under 'mark zuckerberg is a 14 year old girl'.
Mark exhales and throws the phone on the desk, stands up and walks into Eduardo's office.
The plate is unopened, next to Eduardo's computer. Eduardo is typing, and he looks up when Mark comes in and then down again, too quickly.
"It was really nice of her," he says quietly. "Seriously, tell her thank you."
"I will," Mark says. "Are you- Wardo, are you okay?"
Eduardo looks up at him then, and his eyes are dark. He's shaking slightly.
"I'm fine," he says tonelessly, and then he puts his head down on his hands.
"I just don't want to fuck this up," he says, muffled. Mark is even more confused. If anyone would ever fuck up anything, it is Mark.
"This- like, us?"
"I don't have people in my family, like that. I don't even know- I don't- " he breaks off, lifting his head. His eyes are dry, but he keeps pulling his lips tight.
"I'm sorry," he says, and laughs to himself. "God, I'm just so ill-equipped."
"Do I seem like an expert on feelings to you?" Mark says, leaning against Eduardo's desk.
"But they have to love you. They're your family."
Mark sort of sees the logic, but, but-
"I love you though," he says without thinking, and goes bright red. Eduardo is looking at him, eyes huge. Mark swallows uneasily.
"Mark," he whispers, and Mark cuts him off.
"We don't have to- it's okay if you don't. I was just."
"God, it's 4pm on a Thursday and I'm at work," Eduardo says to himself, like he's had some fantasy since he was a kid about where he'd be when this happened. Mark thinks about it. It's actually entirely possible. Eduardo is a romantic.
"I love you too," Eduardo says, carefully and determinedly, and he breaks into a grin. Mark's mouth is quirking up at the edge, and Eduardo stands up between Mark's legs and kisses him gently on the mouth. Mark inhales and kisses back, taking note of the taste and the feel of him, the fact that they're in his office, appropriately. The way Eduardo smells, his neck, like expensive understated cologne and soap.
There's a knock on the door, and Chris comes in without waiting for a response. "Eduardo, I need to go over a couple projections with you before-" he stops, looking up. Mark is leaning back, and Eduardo's stepping away, but their cheeks are flushed and Mark knows how full Eduardo's lips get when he's been kissed.
"Sorry," Chris says, grinning to himself. "Just- sorry." He shakes his head, still grinning, and closes the door behind him.
Eduardo laughs, turning around, and catches Mark's lips one last time with his own.
"I need to work," he says softly. Mark nods, puts his open mouth on Eduardo's neck.
"Still want Pei Wei tonight?" he murmurs, and Eduardo shudders.
"Only till midnight," he says. "Want you to fuck me, after that."
"Jesus, Wardo."
Eduardo laughs into his hair. "Send me your statement about the budget before you publish it, okay?"
Mark nods, pushes him away.
"You're in my office," Eduardo says, mock-bossily, and Mark makes a face and walks out.
He checks his Blackberry.
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
don't you dare have sex in the White House. but, you know, i'm proud of you. you done good, mark zuckerberg.
oh and tell linda thanks for the cupcakes. delicious as usual!
Mark snorts.
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
checked that off the bucket list already, chris.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
you better mean thanking your mom and not the first sentence. mark what have i said about wikileaks.
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
okay, you don't understand technology because you're a humanities major, but the scary little hacker aliens can't get these emails.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
you mean i don't have to wear this foil helmet?!!!!!
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
I'M LAUGHING SO HARD RIGHT NOW CHRIS CAN YOU HEAR ME HA HA HA.
---
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
go back to work. dustin's doing more work than you.
---
fr: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
to:chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
that is physically impossible.
----
fr: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov
to: mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
and yet.
---
fr: dustin moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
to: chris_hughes@whitehouse.gov, mark_zuckerberg@whitehouse.gov
OMG I CAN SEE YOU GUYS EMALING EACH OTHER STOP IT I FEEL SO LEFT OUT
---
to: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
fr: dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
chris and your loverboy are being mean and not telling me what they're e-mailing about. fix it.
---
fr: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
to: dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.gov
yeah, i know. they're emailing me too. we've been talking about you.
---
fr; dustin_moskovitz@whitehouse.edu
to: eduardo_saverin@brown.edu
IDK IF U CAN SEE ME BUT IM POUTING
----
more to come at some point :D