Archive of Our Own

December 27, 2003

“Mark! Get your lazy ass down here and help us with the cookies, would you?” Randi shouts at him from downstairs. Ever since he came home for winter break he hasn’t been able to… well, catch a break. Everybody wants something from him all the time. Like now. Cookies? Really? As if letting him anywhere near an oven was ever a good idea.

“Mark!” Randi calls again, and he has no choice but to close his laptop, go downstairs and confront his nagging sister in person.

“What could I possibly help you with here?” he asks, entering the kitchen. The small room is full of his sisters. He likes them most of the time, but all three in such a small space are bound to cause him a headache in no time. He’d much rather spend the night in his room working on thefacebook, but well – he knew what he was getting himself into by agreeing to come home as opposed to staying on campus for the holidays. His mother would have never forgiven him if he'd stayed.

“You could make yourself useful and wash the dishes. Or, I don’t know, help putting the cookies into boxes. Just do something, you can’t just sit cooped up in your room with a laptop, and then eat everything we make.” Randi sounds exasperated, but he knows she’s not really angry. She’s smiling in a way Mark does sometimes, when he tries to be snarky but actually loves the person he’s talking to. It’s a Zuckerberg kind of affection, what can you do.

“Why not? It’s only logical. You do what you’re almost semi-good at, which is cooking. I do what I’m the very best at, which is coding. To code I need sustenance, ergo I eat what you cook. What about that is so hard to understand?”

“Stop being a smug brat and get to work. The sink is there, as are the dirty dishes and a sponge. I’m sure even you can work out the connection.”

Mark sighs and goes to the sink. “And if I wash them, what do I get?”

The doorbell rings just as he says those words.

“You can get the door,” says his other sister, Donna, and gives him a toothy grin just before she puts another tray of cookies in the oven. Mark considers making a clever comeback, but the visitor at the door seems to be insistent and rings the bell again, so Mark abandons the idea and marches off to answer the door. He has no clue who could be visiting them at this hour. It’s probably just his parents.

“Mom, did you forget your… Wardo?”

Eduardo is standing in the doorway, snowflakes in his ridiculously fluffy hair and a sheepish smile on his face. He gives Mark an awkward wave.

“Hi,” Eduardo says, tilting his head. Mark shakes off his initial surprise and returns the smile.

“Yeah, hi,” Mark replies and steps aside to let Eduardo in. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with your family. ”

“I was. I’ll explain later, okay?” Eduardo says, taking off his coat. He looks at it for a few seconds, as if reconsidering something. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry to be barging in here like this, I just… this was the first place I thought of, but I suppose I could go to a hotel--”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Wardo. You’re staying here.” Mark takes the coat from Eduardo and hangs it neatly in the closet. He turns around to see Eduardo standing there with an expression of wonder on his face. People are always surprised that Mark can actually be a good host, he has no idea why.

“Thanks, Mark,” Eduardo says quietly, his smile a little bigger. Mark smiles back, shakes his head, and gestures for Eduardo to follow him into the living room.

Before Eduardo can launch into more apologies, Randi emerges from the kitchen. “Mark, who was—oh hi, Eduardo, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Yeah, neither did I. It was pretty much a last minute decision.” Eduardo gives her an apologetic smile.

“Anyway, it’s good to see you. Are you hungry?” Randi asks, and Mark once again decides that she has all the potential to become an overprotective Jewish mother. He dreads the day when she and Eduardo team up against him to fix his eating habits or sleep patterns.

“Starving, actually,” Eduardo admits. Before Mark can do anything to live up to his non-existent reputation of an excellent host, Randi speaks again.

“I’ll make you something. It’s better not to let Mark in the kitchen if you want to eat sometime this century.”

“Changed your mind so soon?” Mark quips.

Randi ignores him. “And we just made at least a hundred batches of chocolate chip cookies, I’m sure you’ll like them.”

“Oh, great. He gets cookies and I get a sink full of dirty dishes,” Mark complains. Randi flips him off, smiles at Eduardo and disappears into the kitchen.

Dinner is quite pleasant. With Mark’s parents out of the house, it’s just the five of them, and Mark’s sisters engage Eduardo in a conversation right away. Mark doesn’t even have to say anything, so he just observes Eduardo: he’s listening, laughing and sharing stories, but the usually cheerful smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After dinner, Mark and Eduardo retreat to Mark’s room with two steaming cups of tea and a plate full of Randi’s cookies. As soon as they enter the bedroom, Eduardo curiously eyes Mark’s bed.

“Mark, since when do you have a cat?” he asks.

Sure enough, Mark’s new kitten is right where he left her: curled up in the center of his pillow. She doesn’t acknowledge their entering the room in any way -- not that Mark would expect her to.

“Since this Hanukkah,” he explains. “My parents thought it would be good for me to take care of an actual living thing as opposed to a laptop, so they gave me a kitten. Her name is Arya.”

Eduardo kneels down by the bed, looking at the sleeping kitten with a soft expression on his face. “She’s… fluffy. And really cute.”

Mark sits down in his desk chair, but doesn’t reach for his laptop. He scoffs at Eduardo’s words. “Yeah. Not too cuddly, though. She doesn’t like people. And no wonder, with my sisters harassing her all the time. When she manages to escape them, she comes here and sleeps.”

“Then I better not disturb her,” Eduardo says, then hauls himself up and sits down on the bed, on the opposite side from the cat. “Why Arya?”

“A character in A Game of Thrones,” Mark explains.

“A what?”

Mark doesn’t reply, just picks up a bulky book from his desk and tosses it to Eduardo. “You should read it, it’s good.”

“I will, thanks—oh, hey there,” Eduardo finishes gently, and Mark can see that the kitten has woken up and is now inching cautiously towards Eduardo. She looks at him for a few seconds, then paws tentatively at his stomach and, having received no negative reaction, curls up in Eduardo’s lap and happily goes back to sleep. Eduardo sets his mug of tea on a nightstand and starts stroking the kitten.

“Doesn’t like people, huh?” Eduardo says with a soft smile. “She seems to like me well enough.”

“Yeah, but you always had the luck with the ladies,” Mark says, startling a laugh out of Eduardo.

There are a few minutes of silence, and Eduardo’s spirits start to fall visibly. Apparently, a cute kitten can only distract him for so long from whatever’s bothering him. And Mark knows that something is – it’s just not like Eduardo to bail on his family like that. Mark knows Eduardo’s life with his father is no picnic, but this is holiday time. This must be serious, and Mark finds himself at a loss as to what to say or do. So, he just waits for Eduardo to say something.

Eduardo doesn’t seem chatty anymore, though. He’s sitting on Mark’s bed, legs folded underneath him. He’s keeping both his hands buried in Arya’s gray fur, as if he wanted to warm them up. Which he probably does, seeing as he’s wearing only a thin button-down shirt and it’s the middle of winter. Mark doesn’t ask, just walks up to his closet, rummages for a minute to find a clean hoodie and tosses it in Eduardo’s direction.

This coaxes one more smile out of Eduardo. “Thanks,” he says, and puts the hoodie on. “I didn’t really think to bring any warmer clothes, it’s pretty toasty in Miami. And I kind of left in a hurry.”

“Now, will you tell me why are you here?” Mark asks, sitting down in his desk chair, and wonders if that was the right thing to say – Eduardo’s face falls again, his body curls in on itself and he looks down, stroking the kitten’s back.

“I—I had a fight with my father,” he says. Right, Mark could’ve figured that much out by himself.

“What was it about?” Mark inquires, when it becomes apparent that Eduardo is not going to say anything more.

Eduardo snorts. “Fuck if I know. Just the usual you’re-not-doing-anything-useful-with-your-life, and so-what-if-you-go-to-Harvard-when-you’re-only-wasting-your-time-there kind of deal. I couldn’t catch a break for five minutes, so I left.”

“You ran away?” Mark raises his eyebrows. Eduardo shoots him an incredulous look.

“For fuck’s sake, Mark, I’m not Huck Finn. I told them I was invited here for the rest of the winter break. Now that I think of it, I didn’t have to actually come here, but…” Eduardo drops his gaze again.

Mark sighs and relocates to sit on the bed next to Eduardo. “Wardo. For the last time: you can stay here,” he says, and hopes that it’s enough of a reassurance. He’s not feeling up to providing comfort in any other way than verbal. Random touches and easy affection are Eduardo’s territory, not Mark’s.

Eduardo looks up at him, surprised. It’s usually him that comes to Mark, not the other way round, but that doesn’t mean Mark can’t be supportive when he wants to. He totally can, and Eduardo probably needs it, even if he doesn’t expect it from Mark.

“Thanks,” Eduardo says for about the twentieth time this evening. “I just-- I need time to think, clear my head. I can’t do this at school, I’m too busy with everything going on. And I sure as hell can’t do it at home.” Eduardo runs his fingers through his hair, making it even more puffy than usual. He looks sad and completely exhausted.

Mark might not know what’s exactly going on with Eduardo, but he knows what he need when he’s had enough of certain people. “Stay till the end of the winter break. Nobody will bother you here,” he offers.

“And you’re sure I won’t be bothering anyone?” Eduardo looks at him with his doe eyes, like he’s afraid of Mark saying he doesn’t want him here. Mark feels a sudden wave of hatred towards Eduardo’s father - nobody’s allowed to make Wardo feel this insecure.

“Are you kidding me? My family loves you. Probably more than they love me.”

“That’s not true. And not what I meant.”

“I know. But your real question was too stupid to even dignify it with an answer.”

Eduardo doesn’t smile, and Mark bites his tongue, angry at himself. He’s supposed to make Eduardo feel better, but he only manages to make things worse. So maybe he’s not the greatest comforter in the world. He tries to think what Eduardo would do if the situation was reversed, but he’s drawing a blank - when Mark is not okay, he tends to avoid people, and recovers the fastest when left alone. That doesn’t seem to apply to Eduardo, though. True, he’s avoiding Mark’s eyes and is not particularly chatty right now, but he’s here. In Mark’s house, during winter break, uninvited. It was the first place he could think of, he said. Mark was the first person Eduardo thought of when he needed refuge and comfort. That somehow makes Mark responsible, but he realizes he doesn’t mind that. If only he knew what to do to make Eduardo feel better.

Eduardo tries to stifle a yawn, and doesn’t quite succeed, so at least Mark knows what to do right now.

“You should go to sleep,” he says. “You’ll get some rest and wake up with a clearer head.”

“Yeah,” Eduardo agrees. “Where...” he starts, looking around the room. It’s spacious, but there’s only one bed. Mark’s. Mark also has an air mattress, but he’s not going to make Eduardo sleep on it. He’s that good a friend.

“You take the bed. I have an air mattress,” Mark informs Eduardo. Eduardo looks like he wants to protest, but Mark speaks before he can say a word. “I don’t sleep much anyway, I’ll probably be coding.”

“True,” Eduardo concedes.

But Mark doesn’t code that night. After Eduardo falls asleep (with Arya curled up on the pillow next to his head), Mark shuts down the laptop and quietly lies down in the dark. He doesn’t want anything to interrupt Eduardo’s sleep, even if it’s only the soft sound of typing or the faint glow of the laptop screen. Listening to Eduardo’s soft breathing, Mark falls asleep in no time.

December 28, 2003

If Mark thought it’d all be okay once Eduardo got a decent rest, he was wrong.

It’s almost noon, and Eduardo still hasn’t left Mark’s bedroom except to go to the bathroom. And he’s been up since six, the obnoxious morning person that he is.

Mark’s tried to lure him out of the room with coffee, but Eduardo still refused to go downstairs to get it. Finally, Mark gets fed up and brings him a mug to the bedroom.

He finds Eduardo sitting on Mark’s bed, wearing Mark’s hoodie and Mark’s sweatpants, reading Mark’s book. He doesn’t even look at Mark when he comes in. Mark has the strange feeling that he’s looking at himself, only with better hair. And that’s not right, Eduardo is not supposed to be withdrawn and reclusive. Something is wrong, and clearly it can’t be solved by a good night’s sleep.

Mark has to do something.

“Wardo,” he says firmly, putting the mug of coffee on the nightstand and sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Huh?” Eduardo pries his eyes away from the book and looks at Mark with confusion. His hair is in disarray, and he looks slightly irritated.

“I brought you some coffee,” Mark says, gesturing towards the nightstand. Eduardo follows the gesture with his eyes.

“Oh. Thanks,” he says, and looks back at the book.

“Eduardo,” Mark tries again, louder and sterner.

“What? Mark, I’m reading.”

“So I see. Do you think you can squeeze some breakfast in the schedule? My mom put some sandwiches in the fridge for you.”

Eduardo looks at him incredulously. He opens and closes his mouth, like he wants to say something but then thinks better of it.

“I’m not hungry, but thanks,” he says finally. “Now if you could just…”

Mark is really not good at playing games, and he sure as hell doesn’t know what Eduardo’s deal is at the moment. But he usually follows one rule: when in doubt, be straightforward.

“Wardo, do you want to talk?” Mark asks.

“What? No, I want to read your book. You told me I should.”

“I didn’t mean in one day. Wardo, you need to talk to me. I can see that something’s wrong, but I don’t know what I can do--”

“Nothing, Mark. Nothing’s wrong, okay?” Eduardo interrupts him impatiently. Mark calls bullshit, but it’s clear that he won’t get much else from Eduardo right now.

“Fine. Read away. Just let me know if you need something,” Mark says, getting up and walking towards the door. He hears Eduardo snort behind his back.

Mark turns around to look at him. “What was that?” he asks.

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t listen. That's just how you are.”

Mark feels that he can either walk away now or snap at Eduardo and most likely fuck this up beyond repair. But Eduardo is clearly upset and hardly himself, so Mark just takes a deep breath, clenches his fists, and leaves.

If the door slams a bit behind him, well, that’s just the draught.

Mark goes straight to the kitchen and after brief consideration, picks up the plate of sandwiches from the fridge and once more goes to his bedroom. Maybe he won’t get his head bitten off if there’s food to bite into instead.

**

For the rest of the day Mark avoids his bedroom. He hangs around the kitchen, annoying his mother and his sisters, and fending off his mother’s concerns about Eduardo (“He’s just tired, mom, give him a break.” “Mark, but he has to eat something at least?” “Fine, I’ll bring him some lunch.”). When he’s chased away from the kitchen and the living room, he sets up camp with his laptop in his father’s office. He’d play with his cat, but the traitorous furball still chooses to be in Eduardo’s company, preferably curled up on his feet or his stomach. Mark has a feeling she’s going to miss Eduardo more than him when they go back to Harvard after the break.

At dinnertime, Mark’s parents offer to take everybody out for a dinner and a movie, including Eduardo. But Mark knows that asking Eduardo to go out right now is not the best idea, so he sends his family off and stays behind to… keep Eduardo company, he guesses, although as long as Eduardo is refusing to come out of the room, Mark can’t be of much help. But he can stick around, just in case.

He walks up to his bedroom door, knocks and comes in.

“Eduardo,” he says, in the same tone as before.

“Mark.”

“Are you going to come out some time? Nobody else is home, and I’m ordering pizza for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Like hell you’re not. Wardo--”

“Mark, you’re nagging. You’ve never nagged me before, so why start now?”

“Because you’ve never behaved like a pissy bitch before,” Mark says, and regrets his words the same second.

Eduardo opens and closes his mouth a few times, but doesn’t say anything. He looks a bit shell shocked.

Mark shakes his head, stands up and leaves again.

He goes downstairs, orders the largest pizza on the menu, and settles down on the couch. He’s not even in a mood to watch anything particular, he just flips through the channels mindlessly and finally stops at some Christmas-themed chick flick. Good enough for moping, he reckons.

Halfway through the movie and four slices into the pizza, he hears the door upstairs open and then the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs. He doesn’t look away from the TV screen, though, not even when he feels the couch cushion next to him dip and Eduardo’s thigh brush against his own.

“I’m sorry,” Eduardo says, softly.

Mark briefly considers giving Eduardo a hard time, maybe forcing him to put more effort into this. But then he remembers Eduardo’s sad eyes from the night before, and he can’t be that heartless. Couldn’t if he tried.

“I know,” Mark says, still looking at the screen but not seeing any of the movie anymore. “It’s okay, Wardo. And I’m sorry, too, for snapping at you.”

Eduardo places a hand on Mark’s forearm and turns his body to look straight at him.

“No. It’s my fault. You let me stay at your house and you’re so kind to me, and I’ve been blowing you off. That was… extremely shitty of me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Wardo, it was only a little bit shitty,” Mark says, but grins a little and gives Eduardo a sideways glance.

Eduardo smiles, cautiously, for the first time this day.

“So, are we okay?” he asks, tentatively, squeezing Mark’s forearm. Mark rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Wardo, we are. Now shut up and eat some pizza, I’m watching a movie.”

Eduardo takes a slice of pizza in his left hand, awkwardly, his right hand never leaving Mark’s arm. He leans back against the cushions, still sitting as close to Mark as possible.

“So, what’s the movie about?” he asks, chewing.

“I don’t know, Christmas? I’m pretty sure there was an angel at some point, too.”

Eduardo laughs, and settles more comfortably against Mark’s body. His hand moves to Mark’s wrist and stays there.

To his endless surprise, Mark doesn’t mind. It might be just the worry and uncertainty of the past two days, but he finds Eduardo’s warm and solid presence at his side oddly reassuring. And that’s Mark talking, who’s very much attached to his personal space and doesn’t like anybody being in it. Except for Eduardo, apparently. Mark’s not sure what to do with it yet, so he focuses back on the movie and leaves that to worry about later.

December 29, 2003

The next day shows some progress. Well, at least Mark thinks so. Eduardo actually comes out of the bedroom in the morning and has breakfast with all the Zuckerbergs. He even engages in some playful banter with Mark’s younger sisters (who look at Eduardo in a bit too moon-eyed way for Mark’s comfort, but he can’t exactly do anything about that. Besides, why would he?) and carries out a culinary discussion with Mark’s mother.

Mark hardly says anything, mostly because he’s afraid of saying something wrong and setting off Eduardo’s weltschmerz again. Whatever happened between them last night seems to have worked, and Mark would like it to stay that way. He’s not equipped to deal with emotional crises, and why should he – he never has any.

He’s so busy not speaking and thinking that he doesn’t even realize he’s been asked a question.

“Huh?” he says, looking around the table. Everybody’s looking at him expectantly and Eduardo has just a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“We asked what you think about our plans for today,” Mark’s mother explains.

“And what plans would those be?”

“We’re going ice skating!” Arielle exclaims. “I want to try out my new skates.”

“Ice skating? Really? You clearly want to kill me.”

“Oh come on, Mark, it'll be fun,” Eduardo says, and when Mark looks at him, he’s smiling.

“Et tu, Brute? Do you even know how to skate?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Of course. Only you could learn to ice skate while living in Florida.”

“Mark, we do have ice rinks in Miami. People don’t skate on frozen cornfields anymore, you know.”

“So, are you going or what? Because if you don’t, Mark, then we’ll just go without you,” Donna says. “Eduardo will be thrilled to keep us company, right?”

Eduardo musters up his most charming smile. “That would be my pleasure,” he replies, and turns to Mark. “Mark?” he prompts.

Mark huffs in exasperation. “Fine. But if I break any limbs, you’ll be carrying me around the campus.”

Eduardo laughs. “I’ll take that chance, you’re not that heavy.”

Truth is, Mark is kind of terrified. It’s not like he’s opposed to physical exercise in general, but he prefers something that allows him to keep his feet safely and steadily on the ground. The prospect of strapping narrow blades to his feet and gliding on a giant ice cube is not his idea of fun. What's more, he hasn’t skated since he was twelve years old, and he’s not sure he remembers how to do it. His parents’ assurances that it’s like riding a bike do not convince him at all -- especially that he used to skate on a nice pair of hockey skates, which is definitely not what he’s presented with right now.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he tells his parents. The skates are black and shiny, and they have toe picks.

Toe picks. Mark is convinced he’ll never make it out of there alive. But his family is tsk-ing at him impatiently, and Eduardo is about to crack up, so he puts the skates on and slowly steps onto the ice.

As soon as he does that, he sits back down on the lowest of the steps leading onto the surface. There’s just no way he can remember how to skate, and he’s not that eager to make a fool out of himself. Instead, he sits down and observes the others.

Randi and Donna are helping Arielle to skate, holding both her hands and guiding her slowly across the ice. Mark’s parents launch into what one could call an improvised pairs routine, if either of them had any idea how to jump or spin. And Eduardo… well, it figures that Eduardo would be a fucking wiz. He’s not jumping, either, but he skates with an easy grace that’s pleasant to look at, and he actually manages a pretty decent spin. And what’s most important, there’s a huge, genuine smile on his face, for the first time in days.

Mark thinks that maybe this outing was worth it after all.

Eduardo skates up to him and stops abruptly, sending a cloud of ice shavings into Mark’s face.

“Are you going to sit here all day?” Eduardo asks, slightly breathless.

“That’s the general idea,” Mark replies, and Eduardo shakes his head.

“Nu-uh. Not on my watch. Come on,” Eduardo says, and extends a gloved hand in Mark’s direction.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Mark says, but before he can finish Eduardo gets impatient, yanks his hand and pulls him forcibly onto the ice. Mark loses his balance immediately, more because of the shock than anything else, and Eduardo catches him around the waist to steady him. He’s laughing, but Mark is not amused.

“Easy,” Eduardo huffs right in his ear. “I see your skating is a little rusty, let me help you.”

“Fine,” Mark says, and Eduardo lets go of his waist and instead takes his hands. He starts skating backwards slowly, pulling Mark with him, and Mark actually manages to keep his balance this time. At first, he does nothing, just concentrates on standing upright and lets Eduardo lead him, but as he gains confidence he tries to remember some of the moves he’s learned years ago.

There’s just one problem, though. Hockey skates did not have toe picks, and therefore it was not that easy to trip over your own feet. Mark tips forward, certain for a fraction of a second that he’s faceplanting to his death, but of course – Eduardo catches him one more time, wrapping his arms around Mark securely and laughing into his ear. Mark grabs at Eduardo’s jacket instinctively and holds on for dear life, which means they’re practically hugging.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you forgot how to skate,” Eduardo observes. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I’m just that special,” Mark mutters. He should probably let go of Eduardo now, because they must look ridiculous just standing there wrapped up in each other. But he really, really doesn’t want to. Eduardo is warm and solid, and the way his body shakes with laughter is a welcome change after the last two days. It’s finally the Eduardo that Mark knows and-- well, anyway, he’s back to his own, way too cheerful self.

“Mark, are you alright?” Eduardo asks, pulling back a little. He has a concerned expression on his face.

“Yeah, yes, I’m fine. I just don’t think I can…”

“Eduardo!” Arielle shouts suddenly, skating up to them with Randi in tow. Eduardo lets go of Mark, leaving one hand on his forearm for balance. “Will you skate with me? Randi and Donna are mean. And I’m only learning, I need help!”

“Uh, sure,” Eduardo says, shoots an apologetic look at Mark as he lets go of his arm, taking Arielle’s hand and slowly skating away. Randi makes a circle around Mark and stops right beside him.

“Stole your boyfriend, did she?” Randi comments, following Mark’s gaze to where Eduardo lifts Arielle up and spins around with her.

Mark blinks, and looks at Randi with horror. “My what? Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s definitely, absolutely not my boyfriend.”

“Maybe not, but you want him to be.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, Mark, I’ve known you for nineteen years. Ever since you started college it’s been Eduardo this, Eduardo that… And now he shows up at our house and you suddenly forget about everything -- including your website -- just to make him feel better. Face it, you’re completely smitten.”

Mark doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he searches the ice for Eduardo and, having spotted him, he really tries to look at him. He sees ridiculous, fluffy hair that Eduardo ruffles when he’s nervous. He sees warm brown eyes, which seem to have golden sparks in them when Eduardo is happy, and just don’t look right with an expression of sadness. He sees Eduardo’s hands, which are now covered with gloves, but which last night felt warm and reassuring on Mark’s wrist.

Eduardo notices him watching and smiles brightly at Mark. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Maybe,” he answers Randi, prepared for any amount of mockery there is to come, but she just ruffles his hair, throwing him off balance a little in the process.

“Oh, honey,” she says sympathetically, and skates off. Mark is so busy trying to not keel over that he doesn’t even notice Eduardo approaching him.

“Mark, you okay?” Wardo asks, reaching out to steady him, but he startles Mark and before any of them can prevent it, Mark falls hard on his ass and Eduardo follows, still holding onto Mark’s sleeve.

“Wardo, don’t ever help me again,” Mark says, and Eduardo bursts out laughing.

“You’d be lost without me,” Eduardo says cheekily, smiling down at Mark and sliding one hand under Mark’s head to prevent it from hitting the ice.

Mark is so very, very screwed. And his theory about lack of emotional crises clearly needs to be updated.

December 30, 2003

So, okay. Mark can live with having a crush on his best friend. Happens all the time, right? And Mark can deal, really, like with any other situation. He’s thought about it. The first thing he has to do is hide his feelings: easy. The rest of the world is already convinced he doesn’t have any, so they won’t be looking too closely. And Randi… well, Randi might be on his case all the time, but she would never betray his trust.

So Mark carries on. He leaves Eduardo to his reading, no longer pestering him to talk about his feelings or anything – that’s a dangerous territory, and Mark doesn’t quite trust himself not to say anything stupid, anything that would shock and appall Wardo, and then make him never talk to Mark again. Mark can’t have that. What he can have and enjoy is the usual companionable silence between them, disturbed only by the hum of Mark’s laptop, the sound of typing and the occasional rustle of a turning page. It’s safe. It’s comfortable. It’s something Mark could get used to once he quells that churning feeling in his stomach that creeps up on him every time he sees Eduardo’s face.

And that’s when Eduardo invites him for a walk, and Mark’s carefully woven plan goes to hell. Because – come on. Wardo can claim it’s about Mark getting some fresh air and Eduardo being bored cooped up in the house all day, but Mark knows better. Eduardo wants to talk. He must have figured out Mark’s problem, and he’s looking for a way to gently rip Mark’s heart out and throw it into the snow.

Mark must have been too obvious, despite his best efforts. That’s the problem with never having feelings – you don’t know how to deal with them once you get them.

Mark follows Eduardo out the door. He figures a refusal would be more suspicious than agreeing to this walk. It’s not until they reach the small, man-made pond down the street when Eduardo speaks up.

“Mark, I—I’ve been thinking.”

Oh, no, no, no. Conversations starting like this never end well. Especially this one.

“Had to happen sometime.”

Eduardo flings a handful of snow at him, smirking. “I’m being serious here, you asshole.”

“Sorry, but you walked right into that one. So, what have you been thinking about? Your father?”

Eduardo stops smiling and looks down at the snow-covered sidewalk. “Ah, no. The thing with my parents, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and I think I was upset because it’s the holidays and all. I just needed a break, you know. And it’s not like they’re going to be angry at me for running away, they think I was invited here.”

“Okay, Wardo, I get that. Here’s what I don’t get, though: you come here looking like you’re about to fall apart, tell me all about the drama with your parents, then you shun me for the whole next day, only to be back to your unhealthily cheerful self the day after that. I can’t help but think that at least one of these attitudes is an act, but I can’t figure out which one.”

“I—fuck, sometimes I wish you were a bit less smart.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now, spill.”

Eduardo doesn’t speak for a while, like he’s searching for words. When Mark sneaks a sideways look at him, Eduardo is biting his lip, eyes firmly set on the horizon.

“Fine. It’s not about my parents. Not directly, at least,” he finally speaks. “Look, it’s just—when I’m home, I feel like I’m intruding. I know it’s fucked up and probably not true, but that’s how I feel. So I took off to escape the tension, and – well.”

“Well what?”

“I feel like I’m intruding on your family holidays now.”

Okay, what even—this is just fucked up on so many levels. Mark stops, and looks at Eduardo incredulously, while Eduardo shuffles his feet in the snow and tries not to look Mark in the eye.

“Wardo, that’s just—that’s so stupid I don’t even know what to say. You saw my family yesterday, they adore you. They’d probably adopt you in my place if they could.”

Eduardo takes a deep breath and looks straight at Mark, his expression unreadable. “So, okay, maybe your family doesn’t have a problem with me being here. What about you?”

“Wardo, we’ve been through this.”

“Yes, but… you sure you were not just being polite?”

Mark doesn’t know whether to laugh or shove Eduardo into the snow, or both. “Was I ever a paragon of politeness?”

Eduardo laughs. “Fair point. Anyway, Mark—“

“Wardo, stop. You’re being ridiculous. Why the hell wouldn’t I want you here?”

“Because—Mark, two days ago you blew off a family outing and stayed home just because I was… well.”

“Being a diva bitch?”

“Yeah, that. And I don’t know, I really appreciate that you’re letting me stay, but… I’m clearly a distraction. You don’t need that, and I don’t want to be the one causing it.”

Oh, that is bad. That is really, really bad. Mark suddenly feels a tightness in his throat, and in every other situation he’d blame it on the cold, biting air, but now he’d just be kidding himself.

So Wardo has figured him out. He knows, and he’s obviously trying to gently let Mark know that it’s never gonna happen.

As if he doesn’t know that already.

“So what are you saying?” Mark asks unnecessarily, just to turn Eduardo’s attention away from the sudden hitch in his breath.

Eduardo sighs. “Maybe I should go back to Harvard early, give you some space. You have a website in making, you don’t need the…”

Maybe Eduardo’s right, maybe he should leave. That would be the reasonable thing to do. But to hell with reason, Mark doesn’t want Eduardo to go.

“Wardo, if you say ‘distraction’, I’m going to throw you into this pond. And the ice is thin. I don’t know about you, but I recall being able to code rather efficiently with you in the same room. I don’t see a problem now.”

“I—well, you have a point there. Still, you’re not coding, you’re here. Why are you here?”

“Because you asked me.”

“Mark, you never do anything just because I ask you to.”

“It’s a time of miracles, isn’t it?” Mark says, before he can say anything more stupid. “Wardo, if you want to go, I won’t stop you. But just so you know – you’re welcome to stay. As long as you want to. And if you think your presence bothers me, then listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once: I like that you’re here. So, there.”

“Mark, I—yes, okay, yes, I’ll stay. Thank you.” Eduardo’s smile is brilliant, and his hand brushes against Mark’s as they start walking back home.

Mark seriously considers jumping into that pond himself, but he decides the water’s too shallow to drown himself in.

December 31, 2003

Mark doesn’t know what kind of logic his mother uses, but he’s sure of one thing: it didn’t originate on planet Earth. When Mark announces that he’s not going to the family New Year’s party at Mark’s aunt’s house, and instead is staying home with his computer and movies on DVD, his mother only smiles at him as if he suddenly started emanating rainbows, and tells him to have fun.

A year ago, she forced him out to a party one of Randi’s friends was throwing. Mark spent the entire evening drinking one beer after another, looking hostile, and wishing for his laptop.

The only thing that’s different this year is that Eduardo’s here to keep him company. Mark should definitely look into keeping Wardo here forever, if only for benefits like that.

Okay, not only, but he’s not going to admit that, is he?

So, they end up sprawled on the couch, with Arya the cat curled up in a nearby armchair, and watching Return of the Jedi for the umpteenth time. How the discussion goes from that to kissing, Mark has no idea.

“I’m just saying, everyone should have somebody to kiss at midnight on New Years,” Eduardo says, waving his beer bottle around. He might be a little bit tipsy, but Mark’s not the one to judge.

“Hmm? And why is that?” Mark asks, leaning his head back against the cushions.

“First of all, because it’s a tradition. Traditions should be honored. Second of all, it’s a damn good excuse, you know? Kind of like mistletoe, but since there’s none of that in your house, I’m gonna grab my opportunities wherever I can.”

Mark closes his eyes takes a moment to process what Wardo just said, but the sudden buzz in his head (he blames it on the beer) is not really helping.

“Mark? Are you sleeping?” Eduardo’s voice is uncertain. Mark doesn’t move.

“I’m waiting for ‘third of all’,” he informs Eduardo, and can clearly imagine the frown on his face.

“Um, there’s no ‘third of all’.”

“Really? Two isn’t ‘all’, Wardo, two is a couple. A pair. A duet, if you will.”

Mark hears Eduardo laugh. “I will shut you up if you don’t.”

“Mhm, I’d like to see you try,” Mark says, opening his eyes, and suddenly, Eduardo is right there.

“You should know I don’t respond well to challenges,” Eduardo says, low and quiet.

Mark’s sure his heart literally skips a beat. Wardo is close, too close for Mark’s comfort. And he’s drunk. They only had two beers each, but apparently, Eduardo is more of a lightweight than Mark thought. He must be drunk, why else would he be doing what he’s doing?

“I warned you,” Eduardo whispers, and presses his lips to Mark’s neck. Mark’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t reply, thinking frantically how to react. Eduardo starts trailing kisses up Mark’s neck, alongside his jaw, and finally, his lips touch the corner of Mark’s mouth.

Mark’s whole body screams at him to let Eduardo continue, and his heart seems to agree, if the frantic fluttering in his chest is anything to go by. But Mark is still mostly brains, and his brain is telling him how wrong it is. Eduardo’s drunk, he’s not thinking clearly. This would be taking advantage of his drunk best friend, and both of them would regret it forever. Mark can’t do this, so he gently pushes Eduardo away.

“Wardo… stop, please,” he says. Eduardo looks at him with confusion for a second, and then his eyes widen.

“Shit… I’m sorry, Mark, I thought—I’m sorry.” Eduardo leans forward and hides his face in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, Wardo… I just mean, you’re drunk. We shouldn’t--”

“I’m not drunk,” Eduardo says, looking up at Mark and frowning.

“What?”

“I only had two beers. Mark, I’m not even tipsy.”

“Then why…” Mark asks, and gestures between them awkwardly.

“I don’t know, I though… I though you wouldn’t mind. I should’ve made sure, I’m sorry—“

Eduardo doesn’t have a chance to say anything else, because Mark lunges forward and kisses him straight on the mouth. Eduardo makes a small, surprised noise, but doesn’t pull back.

“Mark?” Eduardo asks weakly after they break apart.

“Had to make you stop apologizing,” Mark explains. Eduardo looks at him incredulously for a second, then buries his face in Mark’s neck, laughing. His breath tickles Mark’s skin, and Mark doesn’t really know what to do, so he just brings one hand up and awkwardly strokes Eduardo’s back.

Wardo looks up at him, smiling, and there’s something in his eyes that Mark can’t identify, but he’s damn proud of himself for putting it there. His hand tightens on Eduardo’s shoulder blade, and he averts his eyes – Eduardo’s gaze is so intense he can’t quite keep the contact up. He feels Wardo’s arms sneak around his waist.

“Mark?” Eduardo starts. Mark hums in acknowledgement, but still doesn’t look him in the eye. Wardo presses a kiss to Mark’s jaw, and Mark’s eyes flutter closed. He’s not going to be able to resist this, and nobody can blame him. “Are we doing this?” Eduardo murmurs right into Mark’s ear.

If Mark had any shadow of self-control left, it’s gone now.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says, trying to hide how scared and hopeful and fucking turned on he is. He’s pretty sure his voice doesn’t tremble. “If you want to.”

“If I—fuck, Mark, you have no idea--” Eduardo says in a broken voice and then he’s kissing him, firmly and decidedly, hand curled behind Mark’s neck to keep him in place, and Mark is glad he’s already sitting because he’s sure his knees would give out otherwise. He kisses back with everything he has, tangling his hands in Eduardo’s clothes.

“You need to—take this off,” Mark says between kisses, tugging at the hem of Wardo’s shirt.

“I will if you will,” Eduardo says, laughing, but he starts undoing the buttons. His hands are shaking a little, but he gets the job done pretty quickly, and Mark can just lean back and stare.

Eduardo’s beautiful, all tan skin and lean muscle. There’s no way in hell Mark’s taking off his clothes now.

He doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Eduardo shoots him a grin and reaches out to unzip Mark’s hoodie. “Well, if you don’t, then I will,” he informs Mark, pushing his hoodie off his shoulders. Mark takes his t-shirt off himself, and his action is rewarded by a heated look in Eduardo’s eyes.

“Shit, you’re hot,” Eduardo states breathlessly, and Mark shoots him an incredulous look.

“Have you SEEN yourself?” Mark asks, startling Eduardo into laughter. Mark wonders if this is his method to hide nervousness – probably not, though, Wardo has nothing to be nervous about.

“Let’s just agree we’re both hot, alright?” Eduardo says with a grin. “Come here,” he adds, tugging at Mark’s hand and pulling him into Wardo’s arms. Eduardo starts kissing him again, slowly and gently, and his hands start roaming all over Mark’s torso. “Are you cold?” Eduardo asks suddenly.

Mark didn’t even notice he had goosebumps. He shakes his head, because no, that’s not it, but Eduardo is holding him close and Mark doesn’t trust his own voice right now. Wardo hugs him more tightly, anyway, and his lips move to press kisses to Mark’s jaw, neck, and then collarbones.

Mark is truly terrible at this. All he can do is sit there and let himself be held and kissed, unable to move. Eduardo seems to be okay with this, though. He gently steers Mark so he’s flat on his back on the couch, and trails his hand down Mark’s stomach to the waistline of his jeans.

“Mark, I want—can I?” he asks, looking Mark in the eyes questioningly. Eduardo’s lips are red, his cheeks flushed, and eyes look darker than ever.

“Yes… yes, hell yes,” Mark whispers, still not trusting himself to talk out loud. Eduardo kisses him again and undoes his jeans with one hand, the other still curled around Mark’s back.

Eduardo sits up, straddling Mark, to pull off Mark’s jeans and underwear. Mark closes his eyes, feeling horribly exposed and self-conscious. Eduardo seems to notice it, and he leans back over Mark, covering him with his own body, and kisses him softly, sliding one hand into Mark’s curls and propping himself up on the other arm, just above Mark’s body, so as not to crush him. “Relax,” he murmurs right into his ear and Mark’s eyes snap open. He realizes Eduardo is fully naked now, too.

It’s probably too late for second-guessing now, but Mark is Mark.

“You think this is a good idea?” he asks, resting his hands on Eduardo’s sides. Eduardo pushes himself up on his elbows, hands bracketing Mark’s head, and looks down at him with a small smile.

“I don’t know, maybe not. But I want this. I have, for.. I don’t even remember how long.”

Mark’s stomach does a flip, and his heart grows at least three sizes. He grabs the back of Eduardo’s neck and surges up to kiss him. This kiss is different from the previous ones, heated and passionate.

Fuck, this is really happening, Mark thinks when Eduardo’s hand closes around both their cocks. He’s hyperaware of every place Eduardo’s hands are touching, and every spot he marks with his mouth. He feels he should probably do something, or say something, but at that very moment Eduardo twists his wrist just right and sends Mark over the edge, Wardo following soon after.

They just lie there for a while, boneless and panting, Eduardo pillowing his head on Mark’s chest. Mark runs his hand over Eduardo’s back and then tangles his fingers in Eduardo’s soft, dark hair.

“Next time--” Mark starts. “Next time, I’ll reciprocate.”

Eduardo looks up at him, smiling. “I’ll hold you to that,” he promises. “Come on, get up,” Eduardo says, standing up and he offers Mark a hand. Mark takes it, and stands next to Eduardo, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

“We should probably… maybe… talk?” Mark suggests. He’s not sure if he even wants to have this talk, but they can’t avoid it now. It doesn’t scare him any less, though.

“Yeah, we will,” Wardo says, then wraps one arm around Mark’s shoulders and kisses his temple. “But not tonight, come on--” he adds, and leads Mark upstairs to his bedroom.

When they enter the room, Eduardo yawns and goes straight to bed. Mark looks at him with a small smile.

“I take it I’m not sleeping on the air mattress tonight?”

“Right you are. Get over here,” Eduardo says, gesturing for Mark. His voice is already slurred with sleep.

Mark doesn’t need to be asked twice. He slides under the covers and is immediately pulled into Eduardo’s warm arms. The twin bed should be too small for the two of them, but somehow, they fit just right.

“G’night,” Eduardo says, pressing one more kiss to Mark’s hair.

“Night,” Mark replies, as he nestles his head in the crook of Wardo’s neck and tries not to worry about tomorrow.

January 1, 2004

When Mark wakes up, Eduardo is already wide awake and sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Seeing that Mark is no longer asleep, Eduardo shifts uneasily and gives him a small, uncertain smile.

“Happy New Year?” he says.

Mark pushes himself up on the elbows and blinks at Eduardo. “Are you asking a question or making a wish?” he asks.

Eduardo laughs. “Both, I think,” he replies, and runs a hand through his hair, making it stick out in all directions.

Mark feels a surge of affection at the sight, and he wants nothing more than to lunge forward and kiss Eduardo until they’re both breathless. But then he remembers he doesn’t really know where they stand. Or, for that matter, how to start a conversation about what happened the night before.

Fortunately, Eduardo’s there. Mark may be a computer genius and whatnot, but this is Eduardo’s territory.

“Mark, are you overthinking?” Wardo asks now, crawling up to Mark and leaning back on the pillow next to him. Mark turns his head to look at him.

“Possibly,” he answers. Eduardo takes Mark’s hand.

“Hey, don’t freak out,” he says quietly.

Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m not freaking out. I just—I don’t know. I’m wondering. Last night—what was that about?”

Eduardo frowns. “What do you mean?”

Mark sighs. When Eduardo’s playing dumb, he clearly wants to avoid a subject. Tough luck that Mark, for once, can see right through him – or, well, project his own issues all over him. Mark would gladly stop talking about it and go straight to the fun part, but… It’s Eduardo. He’s important. Mark has to do this right, even if it means asking questions he’s not sure he wants to hear the answers to.

But he can’t do it looking Eduardo in the eye, so he sets his eyes firmly on the ceiling, ignores the knot in his throat he feels when Eduardo shifts closer, and asks. “I mean, why did we do that? Was it just because you were drunk and there was nobody else around to kiss at midnight?”

Eduardo presses his forehead to Mark’s shoulder. “I told you I wasn’t drunk,” he mutters.

“Which is exactly what a drunk person would have said. Wardo, come on.”

Eduardo sits up and looks down at Mark, eyes determined. “Alright, Mark, listen to me. I did that because I wanted to.”

“You… wanted to,” Mark repeats skeptically. “Yeah, okay.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because,” Mark says and gestures at Eduardo, his ridiculous face and his far too perfect body. If Eduardo could ever be interested in Mark while he was sober, Mark wouldn’t feel so damn guilty now. But he’s only human, and in love with his best friend. He can’t be completely a terrible human being for seizing an opportunity, right?

Some of these thoughts must make themselves visible on Mark’s face, because Eduardo sighs, puts his hands on both sides of Mark’s face and forcibly turns him to look at Eduardo. “Okay, idiot, apparently I need to spell it out for you: I wanted this. I wanted you. Why do you think I came running to you without even thinking as soon as I got upset and needed comfort? ”

“You blew off most of my comfort . And… and you wanted to leave, later.” These are not tears welling up in Mark’s eyes. He’s just been away from the computer for too long.

Eduardo releases his face and pulls away, looking guilty. So Mark was right after all. Eduardo did notice, and wanted to bolt while he had the time. But since Mark didn’t let him, Eduardo stuck around against his will and then got drunk and stupid, and Mark took advantage of that… and now Wardo will leave, for sure.

Okay, this time they’re definitely tears.

“Mark—okay, you have a point, but—I only did those things because I panicked and I didn’t know what to do. I came here to see my friend, and then I realized that I was just in denial. And it—it kind of freaked me out. I didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing and fuck this up forever.”

What?

“YOU were worried about fucking up things with ME?”

“Yes, Mark, and you can repeat it three more times, that will make me feel less stupid,” Eduardo says, hiding his face in Mark’s shoulder again. Mark reaches out and cards his hand through Eduardo’s hair. He’s starting to believe him, and the thought leaves him breathless for a moment.

“So, you’re into me,” Mark sums up eventually. He feels Eduardo shake with laughter underneath his hand.

“Obviously,” Eduardo replies.

“Wardo, I thought you were smart,” Mark says, but at this point he can’t help smiling.

Eduardo looks up, resting his chin on Mark’s chest and wrapping an arm around Mark’s waist. “Not when it comes to you, apparently.”

There’s warmth in Eduardo’s eyes, a familiar sight, but Mark feels like he’s staring into it for the first time. He realizes that it’s always been there, waiting for Mark to decipher its meaning. For the first time, Mark not only looks, he sees, and the feeling overwhelms him. He turns in Eduardo’s embrace and hugs him tightly.

“I could live with that.”

~FIN~