Archive of Our Own ^beta

CALL not thy wanderer home as yet
    Though it be late.
Now is his first assailing of
    The invisible gate.
Be still through that light knocking. The hour
    Is throng’d with fate.

To that first tapping at the invisible door
    Fate answereth.
What shining image or voice, what sigh
    Or honied breath,
Comes forth, shall be the master of life
    Even to death.

Satyrs may follow after. Seraphs
    On crystal wing
May blaze. But the delicate first comer
    It shall be King.
They shall obey, even the mightiest,
    That gentle thing.

All the strong powers of Dante were bow’d
    To a child’s mild eyes,
That wrought within him that travail
    From depths up to skies,
Inferno, Purgatorio
    And Paradise.

Amid the soul’s grave councillors
    A petulant boy
Laughs under the laurels and purples, the elf
    Who snatch’d at his joy,
Ordering Caesar’s legions to bring him
    The world for his toy.

In ancient shadows and twilights
    Where childhood had stray’d,
The world’s great sorrows were born
    And its heroes were made.
In the lost boyhood of Judas
    Christ was betray’d.

Let thy young wanderer dream on:
    Call him not home.
A door opens, a breath, a voice
    From the ancient room,
Speaks to him now. Be it dark or bright
    He is knit with his doom.

When his phone goes off at three in the morning he considers throwing it at the wall. Drinking too much at business dinners is never a good idea, but everyone slips up sometimes. Unfortunately, that meant a late bedtime and a hangover, and now apparently a phone call less than two hours after he finally got to sleep.

He fumbles for it on the dresser and hits answer, clears his throat and pulls it up to his ear and says, "Hello?"

His voice is too scratchy and he winces, but then someone says, "Eduardo?" as if they're not sure who they've gotten.

He doesn't recognize the voice at first, so he swallows some of the foul taste in his mouth and says, "Speaking." It can't be a business call, too familiar, but his friends and family either know to check the time zones first or are in the same time zone. Besides, he'd recognize their voices.

"Hey, man," the voice says. "Uh, I'm — it's Dustin."

Eduardo is quiet for what feels like a very long time.

"Look, I'm sorry," Dustin says awkwardly, after it's been too long for Eduardo to respond. "I don't know what time it is where you are, fuck, sorry, it must be late, I just really need to talk to you."

"Everything okay?" Eduardo says.

"Uh," Dustin says, cut off, and then they're back to the awkward silence.

"You said you needed to talk," Eduardo prompts finally, sitting up and dragging a hand over his face.

"Yeah, yes!" Dustin says.

It's a little weird. They haven't really spoken, really, and Eduardo thinks that whatever it is probably should've come through Chris, who Eduardo does keep up with.

"All right," Eduardo says. "But it's three a.m. here and I'm really tired, so—"

"I need you to come back to California," Dustin blurts.

---

"No, thank you," Eduardo says to the flight attendant, who nods his head politely and moves on to the next passenger.

It's been half an hour since takeoff and Eduardo's still trying to work the kinks out of his neck. He hates flying, but constant travel and a steady supply of Valium keep him in the air. It only makes him resent this trip more, though.

Dustin wouldn't explain why it was so important Eduardo come, and Eduardo had been this fucking close to hanging up on him, and then Dustin had gotten Chris on the line, and Chris had confirmed that they couldn't tell him but he needed to come, really, and Eduardo had sighed a lot and reluctantly agreed. His assistant had griped a bit about all the extra work in rearranging his schedule last-minute like this, but Eduardo was pretty sure she was secretly glad for the extra time off, since he wasn't about to drag her to California with him.

Eighteen hours of direct flight later, he staggers out onto the pavement and starts dragging his luggage towards the taxi lines. His phone goes off, of course, just as his briefcase loses the battle with the suitcase and takes a dive for the pavement, and he swears, pulling the phone out as he dives for the bag.

"Hello to you, too," Chris says drily, when Eduardo can actually hear him. "Have you gotten your luggage?"

"Yes," Eduardo says. "I was just about to get a taxi, where do you want to meet?" He's been to Chris' house, but not often enough that he's willing to presume on his welcome.

"If you want to just wait a bit, I'll be there in a couple of minutes. I meant to come pick you up but someone," and he sighs, "kept distracting me and we left late."

"We?" Eduardo asks. "Who's with you?"

There's a pause, and then Chris says, "Dustin."

"I'll see you in a couple of minutes," Eduardo says, about to hang up.

"Hang on," Chris says quickly. "Just stay on the line? I'll have to call you back in a few seconds when we get up there anyway."

"Yeah," Eduardo says.

He listens to Chris breathe. There's quiet mumbling, the way Chris does when traffic's doing something stupid but he doesn't want to swear. "Are you sure you wouldn't be better off calling me back? Do you need both hands right now?"

"Hey," Chris says. He sounds like he's smiling. "Bluetooth. Hands-free. It'll probably be a law soon."

"Yeah, okay," Eduardo says again. This is probably one of the most awkward periods of his life.

"Hey, I see you," Chris says, and sure enough, when Eduardo looks over there's the black SUV switching lanes towards him. "You look exhausted," Chris says.

Eduardo hangs up on him.

Chris parks at the curb and the passenger door opens, and Eduardo is relieved when Dustin tumbles out.

"Hey," Dustin says, and advances on him. He's coming in for a hug, and Eduardo reciprocates, juggling his bag around, but they're stiff against each other and it feels like old traditions that don't sit right. It's not even something they know how to fall back on, not really - Dustin never used to touch much him when they were at school together, unless Eduardo was hauling his drunk ass around.

Chris comes around and grabs his suitcases while Dustin and Eduardo detangle themselves. Eduardo holds out his hand to shake instead, and Dustin rolls his eyes and eases some of the tension.

"It's good to see you," Eduardo says, and he's not sure he can convey how much he means it.

"Yeah," Dustin says, grinning, and then Chris comes over, arm outstretched, and tucks it around Eduardo's shoulder so they can do the weird half-hug thing that Chris does with everyone. This feels familiar, and Eduardo breathes in, and out, and in again, and feels his shoulders start to pull themselves back up.

Dustin climbs voluntarily into the backseat, and Eduardo appreciates the gesture but he would've preferred the room to stretch out. Instead he leans against the window and makes small talk about his flight. He tells them about the hot flight attendant - Dustin groans and Chris looks pleased when, at the end, Eduardo reveals it was a guy.

By the time they hit the 101 they've run out of things to talk about, and it's really obvious when Chris starts fiddling with the radio. "So," Eduardo says, "want to tell me why I'm out here?"

"Where are you staying?" Chris asks. "Do you have a hotel? You're welcome to stay with me."

"No, I'm already booked into the Four Seasons," Eduardo says. "Seriously, guys. Why am I here?"

"Because we asked you to be?" Dustin tries, piping up from the back seat, and Eduardo frowns.

"Look, can we wait until the hotel?" Chris says. "I just think we'll all need to be able to talk, and I'm driving right now. Plus, you must be tired. Maybe we can get dinner and talk about it tomorrow."

Eduardo's about to demand they tell him now, because this is getting ridiculous, but Dustin says, "It can't wait until tomorrow," and sounds solemn enough that nobody says anything the whole rest of the way.

---

Chris and Dustin follow Eduardo up to his room after he checks in. It's an awkward elevator ride, the three of them crammed in with the luggage and the bellhop, but Eduardo's done talking until they explain themselves.

Chris tips the bellhop before Eduardo can even get the room unlocked, so they kick the bags in by themselves and then it's just the three of them, still awkward and still silent and Eduardo is still in the dark.

"Okay, so," Chris starts, "I guess the first thing is to tell you that you're here because of Mark."

Eduardo frowns. Chris talks more quickly. "No, not like - he didn't ask us to trick you here or something, just it's his fault we had to ask you to come."

Eduardo nods, even though this isn't making any sense.

"What Chris is trying to find a way to avoid saying," Dustin interrupts, "is that Mark got himself into a car accident and now he's in a coma."

"What?" Eduardo asks, alarmed. "Coma?"

"It's not a big deal," Dustin says flippantly. "I mean, he's banged up and all, but they've done all the tests they can think of and everyone's best guess is that he's just catching up on the sleep decades of insomnia have deprived him of."

Eduardo shakes his head mutely. He's not even sure where to begin processing. Except- "Comas are never not a big deal."

"Well, no," Chris says, "but there's no cause for alarm over this one, as far as anyone can tell. The nurses all say he really is just sleeping." Chris shakes his head when Eduardo frowns at him. "I know, it seems weird to me, too."

"But nobody knows when he'll wake up," Eduardo says flatly. "And you needed me to fly eighteen hours so you could tell me this in person?"

He shouldn't be here. He can't do anything, there's no reason he had to fly more than halfway around the world—

"Well, yes," Dustin says. "We need your help because Mark's out of commission."

"I'm majorly jet lagged, so what is it?" Eduardo sighs. "Just tell me."

"There's a major Facebook code push scheduled in three days," Dustin says. "There's a lot riding on it. But Mark has the core data locked away where we can't get at it."

"So?" Eduardo asks. He doesn't mean it viciously - it's not as if he wants the site to go down while Mark is in the hospital somewhere, debilitated - but if Dustin, employing some of the best programmers and engineers available, can't get at it, he doubts he can help.

"So," Dustin says, and he looks really uncomfortable, "it turns out the username and password to get into the main program were your name and social security number, but we - I - don't know enough about you to get any further."

Eduardo knows he should be wondering how they have his social, but he's trying to make sense of the part where he's the username for Mark's code.

"Yeah," Chris says grimly. "But we needed you here, instead of over the phone, because we don't really get what the next three questions are even asking for."

"Questions?" Eduardo says, then shakes his head and goes to the minibar. Chris starts to say something and he holds up his hand. "I get a shot of vodka before I bail out the company I was screwed out of." Except that's not exactly fair, and they all know it. Facebook is his legacy, too, good or bad, and he's not going to watch it sink.

"All right," he says, once he's thrown back the Absolut and dropped the miniature bottle in the trashcan. "Show me."

He and Chris settle themselves gingerly next to Dustin, crowding around the laptop he's got balanced on his knees.

"Here," Dustin says, opening a program that looks familiar. It pops up a dialog box, prompting for login access. "So we type in Eduardo," he hits tab, "and your social," Eduardo's really got to ask how he got that, "and we're into the main program. But we select all three of the code files to open—"

Dustin does. They're creatively titled "New 1" through "New 3," and Eduardo is kind of curious why there's three of them. The files flash, and the program icon bounces in the toolbar, and then the program pops up a simple little box that says Initialize? with a blank input boxes below for each document.

"That's it?" Eduardo asks after a minute.

"Yes," Dustin says. "Any clue?"

"I—" Eduardo stops. "Do they all have to be entered at the same time?"

Dustin nods. "And I don't know if they want numbers or letters or what."

"Great," Eduardo says. "But I don't know either. You'd be better off trying to hack it."

"Look," Dustin says. "There's a - like, a hint or something, if I click the little radial button. It's not the correct codes, I tried already."

Leaning closer again, Eduardo blinks. "Those are coordinates."

"What?" Dustin asks.

"Like maps?" Chris asks.

"Yes," Eduardo answers. He knows it's one of his worst traits, but he's curious. Mark had always been good at piquing his interest. "Here, let me—"

He scrambles for his own laptop, pulls up Google and finds a searchable coordinates map and says, "What are they?"

"Um," says Dustin eloquently, so Eduardo leans back over to look.

The plain little pop up hint says 41°48'24.7572'' and 71°24'11.1096'', and Eduardo types the numbers in.

It gives him two points: one in Kyrgyzstan, which makes him frown in confusion, and a second one in—

"Shit," Eduardo hisses, slamming his laptop shut too hard.

"What?" Chris asks, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Eduardo shakes his head. Fuck. Providence. Mark is - what was Mark doing? This wasn't - that place has nothing to do with coding, with any of Mark's projects.

Except - the dialog box is still up, unblinking, three data fields. Asking, "Initialize?"

He feels sick with confusion. Distantly, he hears himself say, "Providence. The first field is Providence."

Chris still looks concerned, but Dustin types obediently.

"And the next two?" he prompts, looking at Eduardo.

"Allens Avenue," Eduardo says.

"Probably just Allens," Dustin mumbles to himself. "Last one?"

Eduardo looks out the window, past Chris and Dustin and the fucking computer. He doesn't want this to be the access code. He wants to be wrong.

"Megaplex," Eduardo hears himself say, and then he hears Chris' surprised noise. Of course Chris recognizes the name - Eduardo's humiliation wouldn't be complete otherwise.

"All right!" Dustin says. "Now let's hope that's right." He seems to notice something then - probably the way Chris' fingers are digging into his shoulder.

"Why there?" Chris asks.

Eduardo says, "I don't know."

"Eduardo, Wardo, come on," Chris chides. "You knew what it was as soon as you found out it was in Providence."

"Yeah, and then you freaked out," Dustin puts in helpfully.

Eduardo breathes out slowly. "It was where we met."

Chris looks so shocked and disbelieving that Eduardo has to laugh. Dustin frowns slowly and says, "You two met at an AEPi party."

"No," says Eduardo. "We didn't."

It's Fetish Night. Eduardo thinks, looking at the glow-in-the-dark posters tacked up along the walls, that the only way they could've advertised it more obnoxiously would've been by adding an exclamation point or three. He feels conspicuously alone, and the guy who takes admission stares at his ID suspiciously for an embarrassingly long time. When he finally looks back up, Eduardo smiles. That gets him in and the admission waived, so that's pretty cool, though he could've done without the comment about getting eaten alive.

He's not helpless, thank you very much.

Inside the doors there's a guy holding wristbands of varying colors that he's trying to stick on people. Trying be an important word - the line has got several people in it, and the guy at the front is holding things up.

Another employee comes over and starts a second line. Eduardo gets shuffled over and he's still trying to see what the other guy is arguing about, so he's a little unprepared when he's suddenly at the front.

"Orientation?" the employee asks, dragging Eduardo's wrist towards him.

"Excuse me?" Eduardo asks. He's at a bathhouse - he wasn't aware there were options here.

The guy smiles; he's got dimples. "Top, bottom, switch?"

Eduardo can see by the way the guy's face falls that at least some of his alarm must be showing. "Um—"

"Hey," the guy says. "It's totally cool if you don't know. Everyone's welcoming here."

Before Eduardo can say that he does know, actually, the guy slaps a purple band on him. "There. That means you're not here to participate. Let you get your feet wet this first time." And then he is on and smiling at the next guy in line, leaving Eduardo to stare at his wrist in bemusement.

The guy in the other line is still holding everything up. Eduardo meanders closer to see if he can figure out what's going on.

"I'm really sorry," the thin-lipped employee is saying, "but if you won't put on a wristband I can't let you in. You're holding up other customers, sir, please take a wristband or step back outside."

"I just don't see why we have to be branded like cattle," the guy says.

Eduardo starts laughing before he can stop himself, over the employee trying to explain how it helps mingling.

Cattle-guy looks over at him, and Eduardo is pretty sure he's annoyed or offended.

"Sorry!" Eduardo says, holding up his hands and stepping closer. "I was just thinking something along those lines."

The guy looks vaguely vindicated, and he turns back to the employee. He looks like he's going to start in again, and the employee looks like he's about to call security or something, so Eduardo says, "Maybe you could just give him one like mine?"

The employee snaps one around the guy's wrist quickly, looking relieved, and Eduardo darts forward and leads him away before he can kick up a fuss again.

The guy looks at him. He doesn't seem particularly angry, so Eduardo holds up his own wrist. "It's purple," he says intelligently.

The guy raises an eyebrow, distinctly unimpressed.

"It means you're just here to watch," Eduardo explains.

"That's useless." The guy scowls. "I'm here to get fucked."

Eduardo chokes. People standing nearby give them looks - they're amused or exasperated, instead of horrified or disgusted like they would be anywhere else. "You can't just say that," he hisses, pulling the guy closer to a wall.

"It's why we're all here," he gets told. "It's a bathhouse."

"Yeah, I know, just—" Eduardo sighs. "Never mind. I'm Eduardo. Nice to meet you."

"Mark," the guy says, after staring at Eduardo's hand cluelessly.

"Is this your first time here?" Eduardo asks. Belatedly, he drags his hand away from Mark's arm.

"Yes," Mark says.

"Mine, too," Eduardo says, once it appears Mark isn't going to follow that up with anything.

He gets a sharp look. Mark doesn't look like he believes him.

"Really," Eduardo says, grinning, when Mark's eyes stay narrowed. "Just watching, remember?" He holds up his wristband again like a talisman.

"Oh," Mark says. He appears mollified.

Eduardo looks around the room. It's like any awkward party in its early stages - too many people, not enough alcohol.

He looks back and finds Mark watching him. Mark doesn't even look ashamed - he just stares.

"Do you go to Harvard?" Eduardo asks. He gestures at Mark's hoodie when Mark looks surprised.

"Oh, yeah," Mark says. "Or I will."

"Freshman?" Eduardo guesses, surprised. He would've put Mark a couple years older than that.

"Yes," Mark says. "Where do you go?"

Eduardo doesn't bother wondering how Mark knew he was a college student. It's the beginning of the semester, half the people in here right now are probably college boys from all around the state.

The other half are probably looking to pick up college boys.

Mark asked it like a challenge, so Eduardo doesn't bother hiding his grin when he says, "Also Harvard," and Mark abruptly looks about ten times more appreciative than before.

"You're not a freshman," Mark says. "I looked at their records. You weren't in there."

Eduardo says, alarmed, "Looked at their records?"

"Are you a sophomore?" Mark asks, undeterred.

"Yeah," Eduardo answers. He's aware he looks almost too young.

Mark looks bitter, and immediately launches into a rant about the registration process. Eduardo blinks, and goes with it, and doesn't end up leaving until five hours later.

He hadn't talked to anyone else all night.

---

"Hey, over here," says Chris, a freshman from one of Eduardo's gen-ed courses. "These are my roommates, Dustin and Mark."

"Hello," Eduardo says before he can see them properly, and then Mark stops with his cup pressed to his mouth and they stare at each other.

The other guy, Dustin, is saying something about finally meeting the guy Chris has had a boner for since the first week of classes, and Eduardo smiles mechanically.

When Mark had left without giving Eduardo his number or email Eduardo had been disappointed. They probably, almost definitely, weren't each other's type, but Mark had been interesting. After a month had gone by without seeing him on campus, though, Eduardo had given up, figured maybe Mark lied about going to Harvard, school hoodie or not.

"Nice to meet you," Mark says, interrupting Dustin mid-word.

Dustin and Chris stare when Mark holds out his hand. Eduardo knows enough to realize Mark doesn't do this for most people.

He says, "Nice to meet you, too," and he grabs his hand.

"Then how did you meet?" Dustin asks. "And why'd you pretend not to know each other when Chris introduced us?"

"Because they met at a gay sex club," Chris says.

"Dude," Dustin says. "What?"

Eduardo winces and rubs his eyes. He needs to pass out for half a day. "Is that all?" he asks. "I need sleep."

"But—" Dustin starts, and Eduardo sees Chris elbow him. "Yes," Dustin says at last, reluctantly. "I mean, I'm sure there will be another password needed somewhere, but I can look at compiling all of this for now. I'll let you know."

"All right," Eduardo says.

"Get some sleep," Chris says. Eduardo's not fooled - as soon as he can, Chris will be demanding answers.

---

Chris doesn't get a chance, though, because almost as soon as Eduardo's awake the next morning Dustin is banging down his door.

"What?" Eduardo snaps as soon as he gets pants on and the door open.

"Come on, get dressed, I need to show you something." Dustin's too agitated to be faking, so Eduardo forgoes breakfast and lets himself be driven to the newest Facebook offices.

People look up when they come in, but Eduardo's pretty sure that's because Dustin is hollering for Chris the top of his lungs.

"In here," Dustin says, and shoves Eduardo into a conference room. He's only gone for a second, and returns with Chris and a laptop in tow.

"Why?" Chris says. "Dustin, there's other things I need to do, why do you need me—"

"Because Eduardo doesn't trust me without you here," Dustin says, and when Eduardo starts to protest he waves it off. "No, it's okay."

He pulls down a projection screen and Chris settles into a chair next to Eduardo. He passes over a bagel, which Eduardo is grateful for.

"Okay, so we have a problem."

"We?" Eduardo asks pointedly.

"Yes." Dustin glares. "We."

Eduardo shakes his head. "What?"

"The entire code is scrambled like puzzle pieces."

"Okay," Eduardo says slowly. He has no clue what Dustin's talking about. "And you can't put it back together the right way?"

"Well, we could," Dustin says. "But basically all the classes are misnamed. You try to run the code and it breaks because it doesn't think anything exists. It's like the whole thing was written and then someone went back through and changed the name of every step, so even if you fix the first part, which I did, you get hung right back up on the next one."

"Okay?" Eduardo says again.

"The problem is this," Dustin says, and loads up a section of code. Scattered in between lines are paragraphs of green text, but it's too small to read on the projection screen.

"What is it?" Eduardo asks, leaning forward and trying to read it.

"It's a graphic description of the time you and Mark had sex on a train," Dustin says flatly.

He waits while Eduardo tries to remember how to breathe.

"What?"

"Yeah," Dustin says. "That was my reaction. And it's all through the code. Every single piece has Mark's personal recollections."

"Christ," Eduardo says, and sits back, closing his eyes.

"So we can rename manually, by going through the code files, but every programmer will get to learn about your apparently numerous exploits together—"

"Christ," Eduardo repeats. He's still trying to focus on the breathing part of things. The train incident was one of the more innocent things they'd managed to do. One of the better things Dustin could've come across. "So what," Eduardo manages, "what do you want me to do. I can't fix the code."

"There's a flash drive," Chris says lowly. Says, Eduardo realizes, because Dustin is too angry to talk to him anymore. "We found it in Mark's desk. It should change the code back to the correct version."

"And it needs a password," Eduardo says. He gets where this is going. He's furious at Mark for all of this, whatever it is, in a pointlessly burning sort of way. Mostly, though, he's relieved that twenty of Mark's best employees won't be going through two of the worst years of their life.

"No," Dustin says, and he laughs, sharply unhappy. "No, it needs a password for every goddamn step. Every section of code that needs to be changed requires a new password."

"Fuck," Eduardo says, and again although it didn't help the first time.

"So I'm going to get his damn cheater program and you're going to read the hints and tell me what they are," Dustin says. "Unless you want the office to know about you two?"

Wordlessly, Dustin stomps out. Eduardo wonders if he's looked at some of the other code, learned more about them than he ever thought and is—

"I looked through it," Chris says quietly. "We had to know if the comments were in every portion of the code, but I made Dustin let me check. He's pissed because he didn't know about you two. That you didn't tell him."

There's no recrimination there - after all, Chris didn't tell Dustin, either. Eduardo says, "There wasn't any reason to."

"I understand why you didn't," Chris says after another moment. "And Dustin will forgive you."

"Thank you," Eduardo says. They don't understand - they can't. No matter what Chris may thinks, he can't understand.

They wait for Dustin to come back, and Chris lets it lie.

Dustin sighs when he comes in, sets himself up behind the laptop at the podium and loads up the program. It's simple, unimpressive, just pops up a box that says Address?

"I've already typed all of Mark's old and current ones, and yours," Dustin says. "it's not those."

"None," Eduardo says.

"None what?" Dustin says. "It does need input. Hitting enter, clear or delete doesn't do anything."

"No, I mean—" Eduardo shifts, sighs. "The answer is none."

"Hey," Eduardo says, catching Mark's shoulder. "I've been calling you for like two minutes."

"Okay," Mark says. He looks pretty pleased to see Eduardo.

"You just get out of class?" Eduardo asks.

"No," Mark says. "I skipped today. There's that speaker though, and Dustin threatened me with Chris if I didn't show up."

"Mark!" Eduardo says. "You're not even halfway through your first semester and you're already skipping?"

"Classes are a waste of time," Mark says dismissively. "I already know everything."

Eduardo doubts that, but he's nowhere near dumb enough to say so. Instead he says, "Well, say hey to Dustin for me. I've got a club thing to take care of."

Mark shrugs.

"Say goodbye, Mark," Eduardo says, laughing.

Mark gives him a look and says flatly, "Goodbye."

Frankly, Eduardo is a little surprised he did it. He's more surprised the next day, when he logs onto his email and sees a message from Mark. It's short to the point of impoliteness.

Hey it's Mark. Chris wants you to come over tonight because he's still trying to get into your pants. Call me when you get here.

His number is tacked on at the bottom. Eduardo shakes his head and sends back,

I don't know where you live, but if you tell me what time to be where I'll be happy to come.

And when Mark sends him back a derogatory message, somehow making it out to be Eduardo's fault Mark hadn't included the address the first time around, suddenly they're friends.

---

When Eduardo shows up it's Chris that opens the door for him. He smiles and holds up a case of beer, politely ignoring Chris' embarrassed stuttering. He's not sure he's interested, but he's not vain enough to take the appreciation for granted.

Dustin shoves Chris aside to let Eduardo through the doorway, taking the case of beer and rolling his eyes good-naturedly at Chris' back.

"Mark!" Dustin yells. "Come pretend to be a real people for a while, Eduardo's here!"

There's no answer, and this time both Dustin and Chris roll their eyes. "I'll go get him," Chris says, probably making his escape, and Eduardo lets Dustin push him onto the couch.

"So what's up?" Eduardo says.

"Absolutely nothing," Dustin says, and sounds immensely pleased by the idea. "I mean, just for me. Chris is freaking about grades already and Mark is - doing something. But I'm totally doing nothing."

"Awesome," Eduardo says, because he can certainly appreciate the idea.

"He says he's not done," Chris announces irritably, coming back out of Mark's room. He leaves the door open behind himself. "God knows what's so important."

"Mark?" Eduardo calls, and cranes his head back. "You don't want beer or anything?"

Mark seems to ignore him, if the way his shoulders stay hunched means anything.

"Mark," Eduardo calls again, and this time he tries not to sound like he's asking. "You should come out here. You technically invited me. You're being rude."

"Mark, rude?" Dustin says theatrically. "Never."

Chris snorts in agreement, and then hides his face behind a bottle of beer. Eduardo smiles and shakes his head at both of them.

"Mark, don't make me come get you," Eduardo calls, and he's mostly teasing but Mark makes a disgusted noise and comes out, grabbing two beers to hoard and glaring at the room in general.

"How do you know what shit it's asking for?" Dustin asks when it clears.

"I think it's chronological," Eduardo says. "I just have to go in order."

"In order of what?" Dustin says suspiciously. The anger's back.

Eduardo says, "What's the next one?"

Dustin reads it out when he opens it up on screen, like Eduardo can't read it himself. "Nagging?"

Eduardo almost wants to smile when he says, "Food."

"Hey," Eduardo says, and drops his bag on the floor by the couch. "Mark?"

There's a grunt from the back room, which Eduardo appreciates. Even if he could've guessed where Mark was, that was still more effort than he was expecting. More acknowledgement.

"How did your test go?" he asks, when he's gone in and settled onto Mark's bed. Mark has his headphones draped around his neck, and Eduardo wonders if Mark was waiting for him.

Mark shrugs.

"Mark," Eduardo says. "Please, please tell me you didn't skip your test."

"No," Mark says. "I went."

Eduardo looks at him. "And then you came right back here and went back to work. Did you sleep at all last night?" Mark's been working on a project to help students pick classes. Eduardo only gets the general idea of what he's trying to do, and has next to no idea how he's planning on doing it, but he thinks it sounds cool. It will also never stop being amazing that when Mark complains about something, like registering for classes, he'll eventually decide to do something about it. Eduardo's never met anyone like that before.

Mark shrugs.

Eduardo sighs. It doesn't generate any reaction from Mark, which sucks, but Eduardo wasn't really expecting anything different. "Come on," he says. "Come get food with me and then we'll watch a movie or something. You'll work yourself sick."

Mark makes a derisive noise and ignores him. Eduardo considers grabbing Mark's arm, but Mark always freaks out a little when people touched him unexpectedly, and the one time Eduardo had grabbed for the laptop his hands had gotten slapped so hard they'd gone numb. Taught him his lesson, though.

Instead he goes to grab something, and gets extra because he knows Dustin and Chris will probably be there when he gets back. They have their last class on Tuesdays together, and they won't stop and get food for themselves.

"Well, that's not entirely fair," Chris says when Eduardo is doling out bags upon his return. "I would've gone out and gotten food in a little while."

"You mean you would've ordered in," Eduardo corrects mildly, and Chris flushes. He's subtler about it now, and Eduardo thinks it will probably keep dissipating if they leave things be, but it's still almost unbearably cute, the way Chris starts to fawn over him sometimes. If they weren't friends, if Chris wasn't friends with Mark, Eduardo almost definitely would've gone for it by now.

"Delivery is a gift from God," Dustin says devoutly. "And hey, guess that makes you an angel. Right, Chris?"

Chris sputters and Eduardo shakes his head at Dustin. "That was unbearably cheesy, even for you," Eduardo informs him, and Dustin keeps snickering over Chris' feeble attempts at shutting him up.

"Hey, Mark," Eduardo says, and nudges Mark's chair with his foot. "I brought you food. You need to eat." Anyone else and he'd say something warningly about not getting used to it, but Eduardo has a very strong suspicion that if it weren't for people bringing him food Mark would simply never eat.

Mark holds a hand up, flapping it around like he's expecting it to be handed to him. His eyes never leave the screen.

Eduardo laughs and grabs his wrist, tugging. "Come on, Mark," he says. "I'm not hand-feeding you so you can keep typing, and you can't eat noodles one-handed. Come sit on the couch with us. You can code for a while afterwards, and I promise I won't try to guilt you into sleeping." That had only worked two of the five times he'd tried it, but Chris and Dustin had looked at him like he was some sort of messiah, since apparently a forty percent success rate was unheard of with Mark. For anything.

Mark slides a look over at Eduardo. He almost looks like he's smiling. "Why would you hand-feed someone?"

Tugging harder, Eduardo presses the bag into Mark's slack hand. "I don't know," he says, grinning. "You can tell me while Dustin watches Lord of the Rings again."

It's probably not that enticing an offer, but Eduardo keeps up the hold on Mark's arm and Mark relents, standing. Eduardo winces for him when his spine pops, and Dustin and Chris stare at them when Mark lets himself be led out. "So what, that's fifty percent?" Dustin says, sounding amazed, and Mark glowers at him.

They do watch Lord of the Rings again, because Dustin is damn well determined to earn his geek cred, and Chris is slumped over and snoring by the time they're halfway through.

"Aw," Dustin says. "Do you know how mortified he'd be if he knew you were seeing him drool right now?"

"Probably about as embarrassed as he is whenever you guys tease him about me," Eduardo says. "Can't you at least leave him alone when he's asleep?"

"No," Mark says, but Eduardo doesn't know why he's bothering to contribute. He's been staring mournfully towards his bedroom and laptop for the last ten minutes, even though Eduardo never specifically tried to keep him on the couch with them after he actually finished all his food.

"Hey," Dustin says. "What are friends for?"

"Mark," Eduardo says, exasperated. Mark's leg is twitching. "Would you watch the movie or go to sleep, something?" Eduardo is fully expecting that something to be Mark's quick escape to his computer, but Mark gives him a nearly-angry look and slumps back against the couch, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

Eduardo shrugs when Dustin makes a questioning face at him. If Dustin and Chris haven't got it down yet, he doesn't understand why they think it's his job to understand Mark.

By the time the hobbits meet Galadriel Mark's eyes are closed. He's not drooling like Chris, but he's just as cute. Dustin thinks so, too, unfortunately, and Eduardo spends a good two minutes having a whispered conversation about the morality of taking pictures of helpless roommates. Eventually they decide that it's only fair if they're drunk, as embarrassing pictures are part of the price of such occasions, and Dustin settles down to coo over Cate Blanchett's hair.

Eduardo really wants to ask, once in a while, whether Dustin's ever tried out for the other team. He knows some wonderful people, but the one time he'd sort of suggested it Chris had turned brilliantly red, Mark had started scowling, and Dustin had started breathing in a funny pattern, almost like he was going to hyperventilate. In the aim of keeping all three alive, Eduardo had decided to never bring it up again.

Dustin has just finished his soliloquy when the often-absent fourth roommate - Eduardo feels terrible, but he's not entirely sure what his name is; maybe Jacob? - makes his presence known, and Dustin hisses for him to be quiet as he throws his bag against the wall. Eduardo waves at him apologetically, and gets a shrug in return. This guy, Eduardo has always thought, must be a very patient person. Too normal to really belong here, but patient.

There's no free seats left, with Chris slumped over in one chair, Dustin cackling in the other and Eduardo and Mark on the couch. Eduardo feels guilty, since it seems like he's almost always here and taking up what should be Jared's space, so he shifts closer to Mark to make room on the other end. Jared nods at him and sits pressed tight against the arm of the couch, and for some reason Mark decides to pitch forward when the cushions shift.

Eduardo swears under his breath, catching Mark's shoulder. Mark doesn't wake up, thank God, since Eduardo was actually hoping that he'd get a normal amount of sleep tonight and if he wakes up after a nap he'll take that as the go-ahead for another all-nighter. Jackson gives him an odd look, and with the way he's still holding Mark up Eduardo is pretty much out of options, so he nudges himself closer again and slides a hand around Mark's neck, tugging slowly until he tips against Eduardo's side. Mark snuffles unattractively, and Eduardo holds his breath to see if he's woken up after all, but Mark breathes out again in a normal pattern and stays slumped bonelessly into Eduardo's shoulder.

Eduardo only wakes up when the movie ends because Dustin turns the light back on.

"Shit, dude, sorry," Dustin says, and flips it back off. "Didn't realize everyone but me was asleep."

Jerome obviously left again, since the door to his room is open and he's nowhere to be seen. Eduardo cranes to look, sleepily, and his bag is gone too. Where does he go?

Eduardo shushes Dustin when he starts talking again, and Dustin scrunches his face but talks in a hiss. "Do you need help moving Mark?"

"No," Eduardo says, and shrugs to get Mark closer. His elbow's about to dig uncomfortably into Eduardo's ribs, and his legs are stretched out and dragging him further and further to the edge. Without some major resettling he's going to find himself on the floor. "I'll wake him up, get him into his room. Are you gonna get Chris?"

Dustin makes an irritated noise, but he smiles at Chris, who stopped drooling sometime in the last hour or so. "Yeah, nothing new there," he says, and Eduardo knows enough to reward good behavior, so he doesn't mention the times they've all put Dustin to bed - practically every Thursday, Friday, and sometimes even Saturday nights, actually.

"Mark," Eduardo whispers, nudging at Mark.

Mark groans at him but doesn't acknowledge the disturbance otherwise. Eduardo wiggles him some more, repeats his name. Dustin is having more luck with Chris, who flails as soon as Dustin sticks a finger in his ear and then retreats to their room, too tired to retaliate. Dustin grins and gives what he probably thinks is a salute, and Eduardo thinks he's been set up.

Mark will not wake up.

Eventually, by shoving an arm under Mark's, Eduardo gets him sort of on his feet, and Mark stumbles cooperatively while Eduardo shoves him forward. Mark is apparently more than content to flop face-first onto his bed, and Eduardo huffs out a breath and shoves his legs until he can get all of Mark on the bed. It's not late enough in the year for it to be freezing in the dorms yet, so Eduardo figures he'll be okay sleeping in his boxers and t-shirt.

He's honestly only trying to be helpful when he wiggles his fingers under Mark's hips and pops the button on his jeans, starting to wiggle the zipper down. Mark makes a helpless noise when Eduardo's fingers brush tender areas trying to undo the zipper, and Eduardo decides that will have to be good enough and yanks his hands out, swallowing and waiting to see if Mark will resettle. He does, turns his head so his face is out of the pillows, and he frowns even in his sleep. Eduardo smiles and grabs the hem of his pants, tugging, and doesn't realize how monumentally bad an idea this was until he realizes Mark isn't wearing underwear.

That's sort of insanely hot, even if Eduardo knows it's probably because he has none clean, and even if Eduardo's not supposed to know, and even if it does leave Mark bare-assed in bed instead of comfortably covered like Eduardo meant. Eduardo decides to nudge the jeans back up, hopes the pants don't dig in too much if they're half undone - Mark's probably slept like this before, Eduardo realizes, and he's probably fussing for no reason - and instead shoves at Mark's legs until he can get the sheets and comforter over him.

He turns out the light as he leaves the room, shuts the lid on the laptop so the dimmed screen isn't casting pale shadows on Mark's back, and checks, just to make sure, that Dustin and Chris' room is quiet with lights off before he leaves, taking a key to lock the door behind him, which he shoves back under the doorframe so they won't think he stole it. It was Mark's, and he probably wouldn't even notice, but Eduardo worries about these things.

He feels a bit like a mom after all of that, but it means he can flop peacefully into bed in his own room and not worry about any of them.

---

The food thing becomes a common occurrence from there. By the time the end of November rolls around Eduardo's success rate is so close to one hundred that nobody even comments anymore when he comes by with food. Mark doesn't even blink, just sighs and pushes himself up and sits obediently to eat. He never really falls asleep on Eduardo again, but Eduardo is more than okay with that. He'd found out, the next day when he was talking to Mark, that Mark had only passed out like that because he hadn't slept in almost four days, and Eduardo really doesn't like that Mark crashed like that because he was so physically run down that he couldn't help it. Eduardo will take a cranky, workaholic Mark over a quietly exhausted one any day.

"So," Chris says one afternoon. He's eating Mark's noodles while Mark eats Eduardo's chicken, since Mark doesn't like Japanese noodles, and Eduardo hadn't known that when he bought them all dinner. "What are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Staying here," Eduardo says, and shrugs. "It's a bit of a trip home, and we've never really celebrated Thanksgiving." He grins. "It's a distinctly American holiday."

"Yeah," Chris says, "I always forget you're not really from here. So you just stay put?"

"Well, it's not that long a break," Eduardo says. "It's a five day weekend. I'm going to get ahead on studying for finals while campus is quiet."

"You did that last year? You don't have any plans?"

Mark snorts, and Eduardo and Chris startle, looking at him. He usually ignores them completely while he's eating - it's an obstacle to coding, and he has to tackle it head on. "What?" Mark asks.

"Problem, Mark?" Chris asks, amused.

"No," Mark says, and if Eduardo didn't know better he'd be tempted to think Mark was trying to pretend innocence, with how he's keeping his face so still. It looks like he isn't breathing. "I was just waiting for you to ask him to come home with you."

Chris rolls his eyes. He's over Eduardo now, thankfully, but Dustin and Mark haven't given up teasing him. Well, Dustin teases. Mark always left it alone. Eduardo has no idea what Mark is getting at now.

Then Eduardo can't help laughing, because yeah, it had kind of sounded like Chris was leading up to something.

"Don't you start," Chris says warningly, but he smiles.

That night, though, when Eduardo's grabbing all of his shit off Mark's bed and Mark is typing away, Mark says, "About what Chris asked."

"Yeah?" Eduardo says.

"Just—" Mark looks off to the side. It's not embarrassment, Eduardo would recognize that, he's seen how Mark gets when Dustin gets too bitchy-tired and starts making fun of his hair or posture. Mark doesn't ever yell back - he's happy to pick fights, but whenever Chris or Dustin go temporarily insane and start in he pretty much just sits there and takes it. Eduardo thought it was odd at first, until he asked and Mark mumbled something about sisters and bad times of the month, and Eduardo had figured out that was his defensive way of explaining that he realized they were feeling bad and didn't want to add to it.

Dustin and Chris just thought Mark didn't listen to a word they said.

But this expression isn't embarrassment, it's more like he's thinking really hard about something, so Eduardo holds very still and doesn't move, even to shift his weight, because Mark might notice and think that it means he's impatient. The quickest way to get Mark to stop telling you something important was to act like he was boring you.

Eventually Mark looks back at him and says, "I'd have to ask, but if you really did mind being here, because nobody else is or something, you could probably come home with me on Thanksgiving." He says it with no inflection, like it doesn't matter, but his mother is the only person Mark is ever polite with, and that he'd even think to ask is startlingly - startling.

"No, thank you," Eduardo says. He makes sure he sounds as sincere as possible, because it was surprisingly nice to invite Eduardo, but Eduardo isn't going to take him up on it when Mark might, for once, only be asking to be polite. If he doesn't want Eduardo to come, and Eduardo accepts, then it would be like punishing one of his first overtures of manners. Eduardo wants to encourage normal human interactions, so he declines, and it seems to be the right response, because Mark just nods at him and goes back to his computer.

"Goodnight," Eduardo says, and doesn't wait for a response that won't come before leaving the apartment.

The next box is simply Second visit?

Eduardo frowns at the screen.

Dustin shifts impatiently. "Well?"

"I, well," Eduardo says. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dustin squawks. "We're relying on you!"

"This isn't easy," Eduardo snaps. "It was years ago. How precise is your knowledge of your freshman year at Harvard?"

Chris snickers behind his hand, which is inappropriate considering the tension in the room, and says, "Pretty damn fuzzy, probably."

"Fuck you," Dustin says, without any heat. "You were drunk half the time, too."

"Not as much as you, though," Chris says. "And I never got stoned off my ass and tried to lick sidewalks."

Eduardo winces. "Sidewalks?"

"Fuck you," Dustin says, "you don't get to pass judgment on other people, you were fucking Mark."

"I wasn't," Eduardo says. "Not then, at least. Not until—" and then he sits up. "Oh."

"What?" Chris says.

"I think it might be," Eduardo stops, shakes himself and tries to figure out what one word would describe the second visit.

"What?" Dustin parrots Chris, with a vast amount more impatience.

"Just a second," Eduardo says. "I'm trying to figure it out."

Eduardo doesn't get any texts from Mark during Thanksgiving break. Dustin shoots him a couple, mostly begging for beer for when he gets back, since apparently his parents won't provide him with copious amounts of alcohol at family functions. Eduardo sides with the parents, honestly, but telling Dustin so results in two days of radio silence. Chris has never been much for texting, but Eduardo gets one call Thanksgiving evening and they talk. Eduardo gets rid of him as quickly as he can, because as much as he appreciates the thought he thinks Chris' family deserves his attention more, and Eduardo really isn't lonely. He's a little bored, but that's not new. He calls his mother Sunday around noon, as expected, and they talk, and then he goes for food, and when he's settling back down with his accounting textbook he gets the first message from Mark.

It just says hey I'm back. Food?

Eduardo can't tell whether Mark is asking to go out - unlikely - or requesting for Eduardo to bring him some, but Eduardo smiles and rolls his eyes and grabs a couple boxes from the cafeteria before heading to Kirkland.

Mark lets him in when he knocks, which is unusual, but Mark looks like he hasn't had time to dig his computer out from his backpack and duffle yet, so that might explain it.

"Hamburgers," Eduardo says, and drops the boxes on the table, which is still clean since Chris scrubbed it down before they left and Dustin hasn't had a chance to put condensation rings or jelly smears on it again yet.

"Most people just call them burgers," Mark says. He's not implying anything. It's just one of his random facts of the day, just letting Eduardo know.

"You need help unpacking?" Eduardo says.

Mark looks blank until Eduardo gestures at the bags by the foot of his bed. Then Mark just shakes his head wordlessly and goes for the food.

Eduardo sits and picks at his own food, not hungry, but he can't just sit and watch Mark eat - that would be weird even by Mark's standards, probably. Eduardo's got a couple hours before he has to go catch a train anyway.

"How was your family?" Eduardo tries.

Mark shrugs.

Every other inquiring Eduardo attempts gets pretty much the same reaction, so eventually he asks, "Are you all right?"

That makes Mark focus on him alarmingly, and Eduardo raises his eyebrows and holds still while Mark says slowly, "Yes," as if to suggest otherwise is ridiculous.

"Okay?" Eduardo says, but it sounds too much like a question and Mark keeps his eyes narrowed on him.

Then Dustin comes tripping in, literally, slamming against the door and discovering it was already open and tripping over his bags and face planting onto the cold floor.

"Ow," he announces, and keeps Mark occupied until Eduardo sneaks out to catch a train.

---

He wasn't quite brave enough to ask Mark if he'd be there, because they'd never even mentioned how they first met or what that meant they were both into, but Eduardo couldn't help feel disappointed when he got off at the station and started the trek through Providence that he hadn't seen Mark. It would've been awkward, undoubtedly, so he should've been grateful, but Eduardo really wanted to know if Mark really was interested in - that. He basically wanted to know all about Mark, which was probably the number one reason why he shouldn't be around Mark tonight, and instead should find someone and a private room and try to get some of it out of his system. It had just been so long.

And hey, that was Mark's fault, too.

Eduardo sighed, which made the guy at the door give him a sympathetic look and a pat on the shoulder, and Eduardo slipped through the crowd. Getting here early meant the lines for the wristbands were still long, and Eduardo got to look at all the businessmen and twinks and ugly and pretty people alike in leather and metal. He was pretty interested in a couple behind him, who looked like they had an age difference of at least ten years and were very definitely here to pick up a third, if the way the younger one cocked his head at Eduardo was any indication. Eduardo smiled back, because there was no sense in burning bridges, but then he was at the front of the line.

"Hey," the employee says, and Eduardo laughs a little as he realizes it's the one Mark was picking on months ago.

"Hello," he says. "Um, I don't know what the colors mean?"

"Oh, yeah," the guy says, and lists off almost too fast to follow, "Yellow means switch, green means top, red means bottom, purple means nonparticipant and anyone with blue wristbands and shirts is an employee. You know how to get rooms and lockers and—"

"Yes," Eduardo interrupts, because it may be rude but the guy was obviously gearing himself up to deliver the entire spiel. "Sorry, just, can I get green?"

The guy blinks at him.

"Is - that okay?" Eduardo says.

"Honey, that's top," the guy says.

Eduardo can't help the way he raises his eyebrows. "Yes, that's what you said."

The guy makes a face like he's talking to himself, and Eduardo just sighs and smiles while the green is fastened haphazardly on his right arm.

Seriously. He doesn't look that young.

Eduardo heads off to the back wall, leaning back to watch. There seemed to be a lot of couples, which Eduardo wasn't going to rule out, but when he catches sight of the two from earlier they look disappointed at his wristband. Eduardo shrugs - no hurt feelings - and waves them off.

The thing was, though, everyone here was so boring. There was the familiar itch under his skin, like he was hungry and bored, or maybe bored and impatient, but he found himself shaking his head at the few people that did try to approach him.

"Hi," someone said from next to him, and he looked over in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone come up.

"Hi," Eduardo repeats at him. There's a moment of surreptitious checking of wristbands - the other guy is yellow, and seems perfectly content with Eduardo's green if his sidling up here was any indication - and then another moment of less surreptitious checking each other out.

Eduardo's not at his most impressive tonight, just a hoodie and jeans and sneakers, but he's clean and relaxed and calm, which puts him a step above at least a third of the people in here anyway. The other guy seems pretty chill, too. He's got a V-neck shirt on, which has to be fucking cold when he's outside, but whatever, Eduardo's not here to grade people on their common sense. He's a little shorter than Eduardo, and older. Not much, Eduardo can tell, which is good. But a graduate student, recent graduate, maybe.

"I'm Jake," the guy says. His teeth are blindingly white, and when he moves his shirt shifts to the side to show a tan line on his shoulder from a tank top.

Ugh, frat boy. "Eduardo. Where are you from?" Eduardo asks.

"Virginia," the guy answers easily, too quickly to be a lie. "Here for a week of vacation. You?"

"Boston," Eduardo says. "How's Rhode Island treating you?"

"Pretty good," the guy says, smiling and tilting his hips at Eduardo, and that was pretty much as obvious an invitation as anyone needed to give.

"Want to get a room?" Eduardo suggests.

"Already got one," the guy says, and yeah, he definitely expected to get lucky.

But so did Eduardo, so that works. "Lead the way," Eduardo says.

---

It doesn't last long. They both get off, yeah, but Eduardo is pretty sure that the guy hasn't figured out how to tell what he wants in a top from what he wants from a bottom, because Eduardo is very definitely not what he was expecting. Whatever, Eduardo is not here to help some guy - older than he is, should know better by now - learn that he needs to go for someone older and built if all he wants is to be smacked around. Eduardo is very definitely a fan of more subtle play, and pretty much anyone should've been able to figure that out from talking to him. Eduardo had been told he was easy to get a handle on.

He's heading back downstairs, trying to keep from messing with his hair since he's already fixed it as best he can in the bathroom attached to the room and more finger-combing won't help. Downstairs is still pretty packed, people milling. Some are already hooked up and don't feel the need for a private room, which, hey, Eduardo can understand the appeal of voyeurism as much as the next person, but he's only been here for a couple of hours and he's already gotten off and given up. Maybe this place just isn't going to do it for him - it's different from Miami's more specialized clubs, but Eduardo's pretty sure Providence must have some different sorts of clubs. He just needs a change of scene.

He's trailing his hand over the wall absent-mindedly, and when he gets to the bottom of the stairs he looks out over the room one last time.

Fuck.

He should've asked Mark if he was coming. He should've, never mind awkwardness or Mark's weird mood.

He should've, because he really could've done with a warning that he'd find Mark here, leaning back against a guy and, holy fuck, wearing a red wristband.

He's leaning back against the guy, and the guy has a hold on his wrist, and Mark looks vaguely bored but also like he's waiting for something, and the disinterest he usually carries like a cloud just is not there. He's not relaxed, and Eduardo thinks automatically that if the guy would pull him to his side instead of trying to hold him in front Mark would probably be more comfortable. He likes having people's attention, and Eduardo can't imagine why he's putting up with this guy holding him loosely - like he's unimportant - but Mark is. He's just waiting.

Eduardo is staring. He's not looking casually, he's not watching, he's blocking the stairs and staring.

Then somebody bumps him from behind, stumbling him forward and apologizing quickly, but the movement draws Mark's eye. He looks over, automatic, and blinks vaguely with recognition when he sees Eduardo. He takes half a step, turning his body away from the guy and facing Eduardo fully. But then his eyes focus on Eduardo's wrist, still at eye level where Eduardo's hand is against the wall, and his face goes blank with surprise. He looks like Eduardo feels, and Eduardo can't even smile - greeting, reassurance, humor, anything - when Mark gets around to meeting his eyes.

Now they're both staring, and Eduardo is going to go over, he's going to gesture for Mark to come over, he's going to do something, any second, and then the guy who's got Mark notices the two of them and he turns fully towards Eduardo, glaring at him over Mark's shoulder. His free hand comes up to curl around Mark's throat.

Mark doesn't even seem to notice, and then Eduardo can see the guy's fingers dig in, and he turns Mark toward him. Mark just goes, chin tipping up to look straight at the guy without any protest, and Eduardo goes hot and then cold so fast he can't tell which is causing the shivers.

Eduardo makes his feet move toward the door, slowly just in case, but Mark doesn't look back over, not even a flicker of his eyes as Eduardo moves out of sight.

Here to get fucked, he'd said.

Holy fuck.

"Try 'colors'," Eduardo says. "Or 'red' or 'green'."

Dustin types all three in, one after another. They all get rejected, one after another.

Eduardo sighs in frustration and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Try, uh," he says, "'switched' or 'wristbands' or 'surprise'."

Dustin does. Nothing.

"Fuck," Eduardo says, and, "Actually, yeah. Try 'fucked'."

"Hey, go figure," Dustin says.

"Ironic," Eduardo says, but there's no point trying to explain every password when there's always the next hint on the screen.

After Thanksgiving?

It's not the polite thing to do, but Eduardo is not a big enough person to do anything but go to Kirkland and wait for Mark to come back. Chris and Dustin don't even give him a glance when he comes in, just wave and tell him Mark's disappeared somewhere but not to worry, he does this every couple of weeks.

Eduardo pauses. "Couple weeks?"

"Yeah," Dustin says. "I guess you wouldn't notice because it's always when you've got a weekend of projects or speakers you're busy with."

"Huh," Eduardo says. "I guess not."

"Actually," Dustin says, frowning to himself. "That's kind of weird, isn't it? It's like, timed or something."

"I'm sure it's not," Eduardo says, smiling thinly. "It's probably just a coincidence. Mark doesn't time anything."

Dustin concedes the point with a snort.

Eduardo gets up to get another beer. He's staring into the little fridge blankly, and feels Chris touch his shoulder gently.

"Everything okay?" Chris asks.

"Oh, yeah," Eduardo says, standing up and smiling.

"I thought maybe you and Mark had an argument," Chris prods. "You're acting oddly tonight, and he's gone—"

"It's nothing," Eduardo lies. "Just feeling weird today."

"All right," Chris says, playing along, but he looks at Eduardo like he sees right through his shit. He probably does - Chris is better than any of them give him credit for.

"Come on," Dustin yells. "You'll miss the dragon scene!"

Eduardo rolls his eyes at Chris, and Chris smiles appeasingly at Dustin when they get back out there, just in time to see the first flames crawl out of the dragon's mouth.

Of course, Dustin is gone by the time the dragon dies, because he gets a text from some hot girl in his philosophy class who thinks she maybe needs a date, and is he up for it, and Dustin ditches like it's senior skip day.

"Well," Eduardo says bemusedly, blinking at the door when it slams shut. "That's nice for him."

Chris says, "Yeah. Now seriously, what's up?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Eduardo asks, and Chris gives him a look.

"Two beers," he says, going to fetch them. "That puts us drunk enough to have the heart to hearts that are too gay for normal boys."

"To being queer," Eduardo says affably, and drops his head back to shotgun it.

"Well," Chris says, blinking when Eduardo's gotten the can emptied. "Maybe more than two?"

Eduardo never really gets around to telling Chris. He wouldn't have anyway - there's no way to explain being depressed because you've got a crush on a sub who you didn't know was a sub and therefore potentially perfect because he's already one of your best friends.

If anyone could handle that, it would be Chris, but Eduardo's a bit too drunk to figure out how to put the words in order, and now the whole thing's funnier than anything, and besides, there are cartoons on TV.

They start cackling over the girls' hair, because what the fuck, why does all girl hair move in one solid clump in animated videos, and they're not even on the couches anymore when Chris clumsily reaches for Eduardo's mostly-empty beer and takes it, setting it to the side where it spills onto the floor.

"So," Chris says, drawing himself up and patting Eduardo's shoulder hard enough to hurt. "Now you tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Eduardo says, grinning, but Chris is not to be dissuaded.

"No, see, you see," Chris says, "I had a crush on you for a very long time. A very, very long time. I may still, a little, I haven't decided."

"Okay," Eduardo says, "that's okay."

"No, it's not!" Chris says, upset. "See, I have a crush and I don't want you to be upset."

"Okay," Eduardo says again. "That's okay. I'm not upset."

He smiles, trying to prove a point, and that's when Chris says, "Okay, I believe you. That's good," and leans down to kiss him.

In his defense, Eduardo never could've seen this coming. It's not like he and Chris have never gotten drunk together before. They've even been alone for stretches of time, so this is not like, good, we're alone, go for it on Chris' part.

And it's not like Chris isn't cute, and a nice kisser, and Eduardo is very, very drunk, and Chris has apparently had - still has, whoa - his crush for a very, very long time, and Eduardo sort of starts kissing back.

"Come here," Chris says against his mouth, and catches the lower hem of Eduardo's shirt to pull him closer.

"Hmm," Eduardo says agreeably, and ends up sprawled half over Chris when they tip unexpectedly sideways.

Chris looks mortified, and Eduardo starts laughing, and then Chris looks really mortified, and also still very drunk, and Eduardo says, "You have a bedroom," because he knows these things.

"I do," Chris says.

"You should take us there," Eduardo prompts.

Chris' face lights up. "That is a great idea!"

Eduardo tumbles after him, and catches the doorway with his shoulder. It doesn't hurt much.

Chris turns and bounces onto his bed, sitting up and holding out his hands for Eduardo. "Come here," he says, and Eduardo goes and grabs his hands.

Chris doesn't cooperate like he should though, and Eduardo almost frowns before he realizes those are Chris' fingers on his pants, and hey, that is an amazing idea. Chris is not nearly as clumsy as Eduardo thought he'd be, because Eduardo can't get his own pants undone but Chris has no problem with it, and then he's yanking Eduardo's pants and underwear down.

Eduardo is briefly glad he'd cleaned up in the bathroom in Providence, and also that he hadn't actually had sex with the guy, and then Chris is nudging Eduardo into his mouth and sucking slowly.

He's so much better than that stupid frat boy, and Eduardo sighs appreciatively and cups the back of Chris' head. "Hey, yeah," he says, trying to keep the slur out of his voice, and feels when Chris breathes out hard against his stomach.

Chris pulls off, craning his head back, and Eduardo leans down and kisses him, thumbing his jaw and licking into his mouth. "Okay?" he says, and Chris nods.

"Come on," he says, when Chris noses back down. "Get your clothes, too."

Chris undoes the snap and zipper, and then seems to get sidetracked, grabbing Eduardo's hips. Eduardo shakes him off, kicks his pants all the way off and then shoves at Chris' shoulders until he drops back, surprised.

"Hello," Eduardo says lowly, crawling up and straddling him. He probably looks ridiculous, but Chris stares at him, awestruck, and Eduardo smiles and says, "You should get all the way on the bed."

That's the problem with twins - there's barely enough room. Eduardo shoves at Chris until he's lying lengthwise, and then shoves some more until he rolls over onto his side, and Chris makes confused noises the whole time until Eduardo lays opposite-wise and kisses his hip, grinning.

"Nice," Chris says, whether about Eduardo or the sex or the situation in general, Eduardo doesn't know. He doesn't particularly care, because Chris isn't saying anything when Eduardo tugs his hips forward and licks over him.

Chris is so pretty. Eduardo wants to keep him, blow him a couple times a day so he'll squash his face up like that and make those noises.

Chris is also polite. Hissing when Chris grabs him, Eduardo makes sure to watch his teeth and tugs at Chris' hips a couple times. His throat's relaxed, he's never got any gag reflex when he's this drunk and somebody should take advantage of that, but Chris holds very carefully still and licks around the head of Eduardo's cock.

Eduardo's too drunk and horny to really mind, though he does wonder what sort of guy doesn't know how to instinctively fuck someone's mouth. Obviously nicer ones than he's used to, and that would be funny if he didn't like the guys he's used to.

"Eduardo," Chris says, slurring the first syllable, and swallows clumsily around Eduardo's dick.

Eduardo comes, and Chris swallows, and then Eduardo is about ten seconds from passing out so he sucks hard until Chris comes, too, and then crawls around enough to find part of the pillow for himself. Chris kisses the corner of his mouth again before they're both asleep, and Eduardo manages to get a hand up to drape over his side.

---

There's not anything in particular that wakes him up. It's not too late yet - he's still drunk, and it's barely light outside. He listens before opening his eyes, and Chris is still pressed unmoving against his front, breathing even and asleep. There's no sound, so either Dustin is asleep or he got lucky after all and never came back.

Mark is standing at the foot of the bed.

"Hey," Eduardo says, blinking when he sees him.

Mark doesn't say anything.

"Why are you just standing there?" Eduardo finally asks. He's too tired and warm to move, and they're pretty much covered, even if there's no way Mark doesn't know what happened, and Eduardo is just really not planning on moving at all.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," Mark says. He still doesn't move.

"Why are you here?" Eduardo asks, because he remembers shutting the door and he's pretty sure Mark shouldn't need anything from Chris at - what, four a.m.? His watch can't be right. "Are you just getting back?"

Mark shrugs. "Dustin's not in here or the living room but all the beer is gone, and he's fallen asleep with Chris before."

"He has?" Eduardo asks fuzzily. "Why?"

Chris decides to wake up at that precise moment. "Because he's an asshole who steals covers. Can you fuck off, Mark?"

Mark looks at Eduardo blankly for another moment, but he eventually turns and wanders off.

"He didn't shut the door, did he?" Chris grumbles.

Eduardo looks down where Chris has squirmed to get his head squashed against Eduardo's collarbone. "No, he didn't," Eduardo says softly. "You want it shut?"

"Hm," Chris says, and doesn't open his eyes.

Eduardo is not the type to sneak out early, and besides, it's not like he can get away with never seeing Chris again. So he ducks his head back down, ignores the way Mark has come back to hover in the doorway, and goes back to sleep.

---

When he wakes up again, this time it's for real. He's got the hangover to vouch for it, and it's almost 1 p.m. The door is closed, and Chris is gone. Eduardo breathes out, almost a sigh, and grabs his pants off the floor to peel them back on.

He really needs a change of clothes.

"Hey," Chris says lowly when he comes out. There's coffee sitting on the counter.

"Starbucks?" Eduardo says.

"Dustin got lucky, but the girl kicked him out early to go running. There was a Starbucks on the way back."

"Nice," Eduardo says, because thank god, caffeine, and then Dustin comes out of his room and proclaims, "Guess who got lucky!"

Chris just nods at him, accustomed to this, and then Mark says, "Everyone, apparently."

Dustin jumps while Eduardo and Chris both freeze. Mark's bedroom door is open, but it's always open. He's usually asleep until late afternoon, and he obviously didn't get back until very early this morning, he should be -

Eduardo stops himself before he goes in there and orders Mark to bed. Mark can handle his own sleep schedule.

Chris looks over at him, lips twitching like he knows what Eduardo wants to do, and Eduardo makes a face before he realizes, abruptly, that this isn't awkward like it's supposed to be. Chris must see that, too, because he leans over just a little and nudges their shoulders together companionably.

"What?" Dustin says, strangled.

"Well," Mark says, and Eduardo wonders whether he's really going to just come out and announce that he caught them in bed together. It'd be pretty out of character, but then again, Eduardo's been learning a lot about him in the last day.

"You were gone," Mark says. "It was peaceful, we all got to share the beer, and nobody threw up in the living room."

"Oh, fuck you," Dustin says, grinning again. "I got lucky-lucky. Not your half-assed 'look on the bright side' shit. Don't be jealous!"

"Lucky-lucky?" Eduardo says in an undertone to Chris, who snorts into his coffee and settles more firmly against Eduardo's side. He doesn't move, even when Eduardo shifts his weight.

Okay, then.

---

They've got three weeks until the semester is over.

"How does it feel?" Eduardo asks, grinning, when Chris and Dustin both look at their schedules and realize the magnitude of the studying that is facing them down. "Being all grown up college kids now?"

"Oh, god," Chris moans. He looks at Eduardo. "We shouldn't have had all the beer last night. I need one."

"You'll be fine," Eduardo promises, and Dustin makes a high-pitched strangling sound.

"I have a term paper? A term paper on what?"

"Mark?" Chris calls. "What are your finals looking like?"

Mark ignores him. Chris looks at Eduardo.

"What?" Eduardo asks.

"Go get him," Chris says, like it's obvious. "We need to figure out when his tests are so he doesn't skip any of them."

"Yeah," Eduardo says. "Right."

Mark doesn't look up when Eduardo comes and stands next to his shoulder. "Hey, Mark," Eduardo starts quietly.

"No," Mark says.

"What?" Eduardo says, startled. That was - vehement.

"I'm not talking about it with you," Mark says. "We both go to the same club. Big deal. You fucked my roommate. So what? I hope you had a good night."

"I - all right," Eduardo says. "But Chris wants you to come out so he can look at your finals schedule. He's worried you'll miss one."

"Well, if Chris is worried," Mark says flatly, and keeps typing.

"Mark, what is wrong with you?" Eduardo snaps. He's never seen someone come back this pissy after getting off.

"Nothing," Mark says. "I'm busy."

"You always think you're busy," Eduardo says. "Now seriously, come on. We'll look at schedules, we can all go out and eat somewhere, then you can come back and keep coding. Did you sleep last night?"

"No," Mark says, to any and all of it.

Eduardo had a pretty bad night, at least until Chris came along, and he does not have the patience to deal with this shit, especially since he can see Dustin and Chris craning their heads curiously around to try to see what's keeping them.

"Mark," Eduardo says, and grabs Mark's wrist. This normally gets a highly-pissed off look and Mark storming over to do whatever it is Eduardo wants him to do.

This time, though, Eduardo wraps his fingers around and Mark hisses. His hand stays still in Eduardo's palm.

"Hey," Eduardo says mindlessly, and ignores the way Mark is staring determinedly away while he rolls up the long sleeves. There are red marks, rope burns, twisting around the thin bones and pale skin, going halfway up Mark's arm like the idiot who tied him up didn't know what they were doing.

"Mark," Eduardo says, and touches them lightly. "That's not good."

Mark looks at him, and doesn't answer. Eduardo holds him lightly, careful of chafing, and watches Mark watch him. Whatever Mark finds makes him relax inexplicably, and he twists suddenly, offering up his other arm. Eduardo isn't going to frown on good luck, so he takes that one, too, watches Mark wiggle the sleeve up.

"It wasn't an accident," Mark says. "He didn't screw up. It's okay."

The marks are almost identical on each arm, and Eduardo breathes out slowly and carefully, uncurls his fingers and sets Mark's arms back into his lap. "All right," he says. He knows as well as anyone that these things can be weird to see from the outside.

"I like rope burns," Mark says, sounding frustrated. "I asked for them, he didn't screw up."

"Okay," Eduardo says, but this time he means it.

Mark sits there looking at him, and Eduardo sighs out again and then smiles. "Come on," he says, and goes back out to the living room. "Chris really does want to make sure you make your finals. Then I'll feed you all as promised."

Dustin makes a loud sound of approval and immediately starts clamoring for Japanese, because he enjoys tormenting Mark with the one type of food Mark pretty much refuses to eat, and it's only a little weird when Chris flanks Eduardo on the side that Mark hasn't claimed.

"Rope burns," Eduardo says.

Dustin doesn't even look curious, just types it in.

The screen flashes up the next one, but a pretty brunette knocks on the door before Eduardo can get to it.

"Hello, Laurel," Chris says politely. "Eduardo, this is Laurel, she's Mark's assistant."

"Nice to meet you," Eduardo says, and she echoes it.

"I just wanted to tell you that it's lunch time, and the engineers decided to get sushi from catering. Would you three like anything?" She has her phone held absently in her hand, wrist limp like it's a permanent attachment, and her hair done up messily. She'd be a perfect match for Eduardo's assistant if she were a little more Asian and wore more makeup.

"Eduardo?" Chris asks quietly, looking over at him.

"If it's all right I'd prefer to go out for lunch." The building is not comfortable for him, he can't sprawl in the chairs out of habit like Chris and Dustin.

"Yeah, of course," Chris says.

Dustin starts to protest. "We need to—"

"No," Chris says. "We need to go out and get lunch, you can send the parts of the code you already have unlocked to one of the teams, I'm sure they'll figure something out that needs to be done with it."

"As long as I tell them not to look at source," Dustin mumbles unhappily. Eduardo winces.

"Would you like to join us?" Chris says to Laurel, who looks up from her phone and nods.

"If you don't mind the company."

"Hey," Dustin says, "you can't leave without me. I'll be right back."

He trips down a row of cubicles to a cluster of people who are very deeply engrossed with something on YouTube. They look horrified to see him - probably, Eduardo decides, because he throws around assignments like candy at Halloween, and doesn't seem to care who gets what. As soon as he's gone they all start conferring, sorting out duties.

Eduardo watches Chris roll his eyes fondly.

"Excuse me," Laurel says quietly at his elbow, when Dustin has reached them and starts duking out which pizza parlor is best with Chris.

"Yes?" Eduardo says, startled.

"Sorry to bother you," she says, not looking sorry at all. "But you're that Eduardo, right?"

"I, well, I guess," Eduardo says. There's a slim to none chance that there's some other Eduardo.

"So, you've known all of them since you were all in college?"

"Yes," Eduardo says, and thinks that's the most tactful way anyone's ever asked that particular question. Not you were the guy who got screwed over, right or oh, the ex-co-founder. "Why?"

"Just wondering," she says, smiling. "Mark mentions you a lot."

Eduard laughs a little. "I doubt that."

"Oh, he does," and now her smile is less cute and more on the side of the spectrum that would make children cry. "He doesn't talk about you, gets weird whenever he realizes someone heard him bring you up, but he does mention you. Dustin and Chris do, too."

"Oh," Eduardo says. There's not a really good response to that, he's pretty sure. "I hope none of it was too bad."

"Oh, no," she says quickly, looking surprised. "None of it was bad at all. Chris in particular seems to miss you - Dustin says," she pauses. "I need to disclaim that we all know better than to believe everything Dustin says. But I do think he meant this. He said Chris misses having you around because now he has to take care of Dustin and Mark, and you used to do more than your fair share of the work with that."

Eduardo laughs. "Yeah, actually, I guess that is pretty true."

She shakes her head, takes his arm. She's been gently leading him out the whole while, Eduardo realizes, and realizes at the same time that she's good. She's gotten them out of the building, Chris and Dustin trailing behind, without anyone really noticing them leaving at all - not even Eduardo. "Dustin certainly isn't going to go out of his way to make things easier on Chris or anyone else, even though I think he misses you as much as Chris."

"It's hard, going halfway around the world," Eduardo says diplomatically. "It can be difficult to keep in touch." Of course, he hadn't ever tried to stay in touch with Dustin. Chris talked about him, kept Eduardo updated enough that he felt like he still did his duty as erstwhile friend, but he and Dustin had never been the closest. Eduardo is mature enough to acknowledge that he blamed Dustin - not for what Mark did, but for not telling him.

He'd smiled at Eduardo while he walked to the conference room, and Eduardo has too much respect for Dustin to think he was ignorant of everything that was going on that summer. Chris was only there part of the time, and he was back at Harvard with Eduardo by the time they were all signing dilution papers, and that had made it easier for Eduardo to accept his innocence and his apologies. It made his continued loyalty to Mark feel less like a personal betrayal.

"I've heard Facebook can help with that," Laurel says, and Eduardo's so surprised he almost stops walking.

When he looks over she's smiling slyly, like she's sharing a joke.

"You're so clever," Eduardo says condescendingly, and she laughs and pinches him.

"Hey!" Dustin says, running up and slinging an arm around Laurel's neck. "Don't get involved with him. He's a ruffian, not to be trusted. And you!" Dustin narrows a look at Eduardo that's a little too hostile to be just a joke. Still angry, then. "Don't go scaring off the help. She's one of the only people we've found who can put up with Mark's shit."

"Now if only I could get him to listen to me," Laurel says mournfully.

"Don't take it personally," Chris says. "Eduardo's the only one he's ever listened to."

---

The pizza parlor has some of the worst pizza Eduardo has ever eaten.

"Why are we here?" he asks. It comes out plaintive, and Chris sighs.

"Dustin likes the beer," he explains.

"Oh, well, if Dustin likes it," Eduardo says drily, teasing. Dustin gives him a sharply unhappy look, not up for barbs, but Chris gets it and ducks his head, embarrassed.

By the way Laurel tucks her hand against Eduardo's arm, she seems to get it too.

They get back after less than half an hour, Dustin bemoaning the terrible quality of the food and yelling at Chris for letting them go there. Chris takes it for about two minutes and then starts slapping at Dustin's head every time he complains about something.

"So, ready?" Dustin asks, plops himself onto the stool at the podium like a maestro, and glares Eduardo and Chris into submission. "Let's get going."

Drugs?

Mark seems to figure out that Chris and Eduardo are - not dating, they don't date. Chris doesn't even touch Eduardo in public, and Eduardo is usually too busy keeping track of Mark's feeding and sleep schedule to notice Chris is watching him until Chris corrals him in a corner and kisses him.

The sex is kind of awesome, though.

They get through finals like that, in a tangle of not-relationships where Mark leeches attention and time from everyone in a two hundred foot radius, James stops showing up at all, Dustin dates and gets dumped three times, and Eduardo becomes dearly acquainted with Chris' tongue.

Then finals are over, Friday morning's gen-ed course the last one for Eduardo and Chris both, and Mark and Dustin are still out for some comp sci test that takes almost four hours to complete, and Chris gives Eduardo a beer and smiles at him, very sweetly, and says, "So we should talk about how I have to stop sleeping with you because you're in love with Mark."

Eduardo leans against the wall and says, "Yeah, probably we should."

Chris nods slowly, still smiling a little. He honestly doesn't seem upset, and Eduardo is fiercely glad they met, and that Chris is mature enough to take this in stride. Dustin still doesn't even seem to notice anything is going on, and Mark notices god knows what and doesn't give a fuck about any of it, and it would've sucked if the two sane people had to stop talking to each other because Eduardo is an asshole.

He says something along those lines, and leaves out the part where he's sorry that Chris has had to know all along that Eduardo's not interested, not really, and then Chris says, "Yeah, so, now that I've finally gotten that heart-to-heart out of you, I think we should have break up sex and then you can go collect Mark and Dustin like the good mother you are."

Eduardo makes a half-hearted attempt at protest, but then Chris is kissing him smoothly and telling him to fuck him, already, and they've got hours before the kids' school gets out, after all, but that's carrying the metaphor a little too far considering what Eduardo wants to do to Mark, so he grabs the lube and slides his fingers in the way Chris likes instead.

---

Semester ended two days ago, and Hanukkah starts in less than a week, and all three of them combined have had no luck in getting Mark out of the dorm.

"No," he says flatly.

"I haven't said anything, Mark," Chris says, nerves frayed. "But now that you bring it up, yes, we are all leaving. Just like everyone on campus. And remember how the dorms lock down and the school will send people to force you out of here tomorrow morning? Because I know we've told you but your shit still isn't packed."

"God, you're cranky when you're not getting any," Mark says back, and Dustin says, "Chris never gets any," while Eduardo forcefully shoves Chris out the door and away from the object of his homicidal urges.

Dustin follows Chris happily, yelling out, "See you!" and stomping down the stairs loudly enough to drown out Chris' footsteps.

"Why did you say that?" Eduardo says.

"Well, it's true," Mark says. He doesn't look away from his screen.

Eduardo comes around and leans on his shoulders. "I know you're not working on anything."

Mark makes a derisive sound. "You don't know what I'm working on."

"Yeah, but that's not your coding program. So it's not code."

"And?" Mark says. He hunches closer to the screen.

"And you can shut it off."

Mark probably can't shove himself closer to the screen at this point, but he seems to be trying anyway.

Eduardo is tired, and he's not looking forward to having to go home, and when he's not around Chris his conscience has this nasty tendency to try to sneak up and guilt him into feeling bad, even though they were just using each other for orgasms after all. He mostly is just running out of time for Mark's shit, so he shoves at Mark's chair and gets himself between the desk and Mark.

Mark's chin comes up, glaring at him fiercely. He's actually angry; interfering with his laptop is the one guaranteed way to get all his attention.

"Pack," Eduardo says, low, because if Mark's going to do this stubborn shit then so is he.

They stare at each other, and it's not a conscious plan of action, it honestly isn't, but Eduardo has no intention of repeating himself, so he turns around and gathers up Mark's electronics, cables and all, and coils them up neatly. He leaves the room, Mark staring after him in disbelief, and sets them on the coffee table.

"You can have them back once you're ready to leave," he says calmly. "Until then, they stay right there."

"Are you seriously taking away my toys?" Mark says, sneering and surprised.

"Hey, I guess I am," Eduardo says. "If you're going to act like a child—" and he trails off, shrugging. It's pretty self-explanatory.

"And what if I don't pack," Mark says, but he's already standing up and grabbing his duffle to shove clothes in, so Eduardo doesn't really understand the point he's trying to get at here.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't get your computer back," Eduardo says. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

The look Mark gives him makes it obvious Mark's laughing at him, but Eduardo's not sure why. "Yeah, see, that's not follow through," Mark says. "Spanking is stronger reinforcement."

Eduardo stands there, frozen, for about half a second, before he loses it laughing and can't stop. "You are such a dick," he says. "This is not about that."

"Isn't it?" Mark says. "I don't seen Chris or Dustin hanging around and trying to discipline me."

"I wasn't—" Eduardo starts to repeat, and then gives up. He totally was.

"That's okay," Mark says. "My mother always spanked me, too."

"Ugh, Mark," Eduardo says, horrified, "don't say things like that."

Mark's actually smiling by the time he faces Eduardo again. He's got a duffle on his shoulder and his backpack, space saved for the laptop, dangling off his arm. "Can I have it back?"

Eduardo can't help himself. "Are you sure you have everything? You won't be able to get anything you leave."

"I have everything except my computer," Mark says pointedly. Eduardo surveys the room quickly, and Mark makes a noise and steps closer. "Do you want me to say please?"

Eduardo snorts, checking that Mark has shoes with actual socks on, since he doesn't see flip-flops lying around anywhere. "What?"

"Before you'll give it back," he says, and when Eduardo looks at him he's got his head ducked. He's very obviously teasing, but it doesn't mean Eduardo doesn't want to see if he will.

"You're a dick," Eduardo repeats hoarsely, but he's not laughing this time, and Mark isn't even smiling by the time Eduardo reaches around to hold the laptop out for him.

He takes it quietly, eyes dropping to watch Eduardo's hands instead of his face, and they head out of the dorms.

---

Eduardo goes back to school as soon as the dorms open. He kisses his mother goodbye with a fair amount of regret, but he'll be unbelievably glad to see the inside of his room again, the suite at Kirkland. Dustin gotten some stupid video game and hadn't stopped bragging all break. Even his smiley faces looked smug. Chris was threatening disembowelment.

Mark didn't answer anyone's messages.

A couple days after he gets back he runs out for groceries, all the necessities that get used up over a semester, like soap and condoms. Then he grabs his wallet, goes to the nearest diner, and orders enough takeaway to stock Mark, Dustin, and Chris' minifridge. Chris would bring non-perishables, and Dustin would get alcohol, and Mark would probably manage to remember shoes, and all in all they would probably settle back in just fine.

"Hey," Dustin says. "I thought I was the first one back." He's sitting on the couch, bags piled everywhere and electronics hooked up.

"Nope," Eduardo says, and sets the groceries down and grabs the other controller.

Chris is in next, and he sits next to Eduardo until they switch the next round. Dustin won't share, but that's not a surprise.

Eduardo ends up in the chair closest to the door, and he's dozing when the door opens. He doesn't bother seeing who it is - he can hear rubber scuffing over the wood floors, and that means Mark didn't wear his sneakers. Eduardo really hopes he didn't forget them - taking him shoe shopping really sucked.

"Get your shit out of the hall, Dustin," Mark says without heat, and Eduardo feels like smiling even if he's too tired to actually do it while he listens to them move around, settling themselves in and making grumpy noises when they run into each other.

Mark must get at the food. He's the only one who won't bother to heat it up. He comes over and sits on the arm of Eduardo's chair, chewing away. It's pretty much disgusting, listening to people eat, which is obviously why Eduardo lets his head flop to the other side and bury itself against Mark's hoodie. Mark doesn't move.

He probably does sleep then, because the next time he moves it's with the awareness of waking up slowly, and it's because Mark is tapping his shoulder lightly. There's no rhythm to it, just an awkward semi-continuous twitch of his fingers, and Eduardo sighs and opens his eyes.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Dustin invited us all to some New Years party in Boston," Mark says. Eduardo starts to nod. "But I don't want to go. You should come with me, instead."

"Of course," Eduardo says, mildly confused, but Mark smiles at him and then meanders off into his room. His computer is shut, and Eduardo is more than a little surprised when Mark just shucks his hoodie and crawls into his bed. He's asleep almost instantly, and Eduardo watches him long enough to be creepy because there's nobody around to catch him at it.

Mark never actually tells him where he's agreed to go, but the next evening they get on the train to Providence and Eduardo says, "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"We both go there anyway," Mark says. It's a train, so it's not as if they're saving by carpooling or anything, but Eduardo knows he thinks that's a perfectly good explanation and doesn't bother asking again.

So they go, and get eyed up at the door and shuffled in with the rest of the crowd. Pretty much everyone is completely trashed, because that's what New Years is for, and there is an ungodly amount of glitter and leather on display. Eduardo feels underdressed but probably looks good compared to Mark, who is pretty much in the holiday-garb equivalent of rags.

That doesn't mean they don't get appreciative looks. Eduardo's never really paid attention to how long it takes for him to either be approached or find someone he's interested in, but it seems like Mark's barely inside before he has people reaching for him.

Eduardo bristles before he can stop himself, glowering around, and everyone backs off remarkably quickly. Mark is too busy watching a guy done up like a sparkling candle with a look akin to horror to notice.

But then candle-guy finishes lighting his hat and wanders off, and Mark looks at Eduardo and says, "See you."

Biting his tongue while Mark picks a direction seemingly at random and strikes out, probably confident in his ability to get a guy to grab him in ten paces or less, Eduardo makes himself look away and look around.

"Hey," an older guy says invitingly, and Eduardo nods and smiles and darts around him.

And wow, Eduardo really prefers the wristband nights - this whole free-for-all thing isn't working out well, because he could do with a lot less attention. There's only so many ways to explain "not my type" before the words start to sound meaningless.

He feels like he should sharpie "blowjobs only" on his forehead and see if that would keep old guys from grabbing his ass.

Probably not.

Nudging his way through the crowd, getting groped, and avoiding the drugs getting pressed into his palms is all pretty normal - there's less of a tendency to cocaine than in Miami, it seems, and a lot more E, and then he's face to face with Mark. Again.

Mark who is high, high, and way too fucking high, if the way he's swaying sideways is any indication.

"Fuck," Eduardo says, and about five people around him echo the sentiment. They don't mean it the same way, though. "Here you are," he says loudly, swooping in to grab Mark, and he is not against hitting people if they don't relinquish Mark, but the guy holding him up says, slurred, "Thank fuck. Fucker can't hold his drugs."

"No, he can't," Eduardo says darkly, and gets Mark around the waist.

It's not that bad, once Eduardo makes himself calm down. He gets Mark out of the club, into a taxi and back onto the train to Boston with less trouble than it is to drag a drunken Dustin up the stairs in Kirkland. Mark hums a little, at one point, but he knows who Eduardo is - keeps saying, "Wardo, Ward, War," and over again, like some weird little game of seeing how short he can get Eduardo's name.

"You're not funny," Eduardo says grimly. "Why the fuck are you high? You don't take drugs."

"Kisses," Mark says, and Eduardo jerks back just in case he's gotten any ideas.

Mark gives him a cross-eyed look at the sudden movement, half-irritated and half-amused. Eduardo wonders what the sobering rate is for ecstasy. "Kissing," he repeats. "He just—" Mark flails.

"He kissed you?" Eduardo guesses.

"Precisely," Mark says, and Eduardo figures he must be likely to survive if he only mispronounced one of the letters. "Grabbed me, and there was his tongue, and I think drugs do something faster if they're already in someone like that."

"I, yeah, okay," Eduardo says. He gets pretty much what Mark is saying. It'd figure that Mark is better than Eduardo at knowing what's going on even when he's high on a drug he's never tried before. "You okay, though?"

"Hm," Mark says conclusively.

"Here, our stop," Eduardo says, and is glad to haul Mark off the train. The two other people in their compartment - since apparently the evening out rush is past and it's way too early for self-respecting partiers to be returning home - are giving them dirty looks and Eduardo really wants to shove a gallon of water into Mark and then hover over him until, hopefully, he wakes up cranky in the morning.

Mark doesn't do anything the rest of the way back to the dorms, at least not until he decides he really likes the stairs and tries to go up and down them several times, and he strips completely when Eduardo tells him to get ready for bed, so then Eduardo has to track down extra blankets so he doesn't have to worry about Mark freezing. Then, while Eduardo is spreading them over the lump that is sleeping Mark, Mark decides to be less sleeping and more half-awake and stubborn, and he grabs onto Eduardo's wrist, nails digging in and all.

Which is how Eduardo wakes up in the morning with Mark plastered along his back and sweating.

"Jesus," he says quietly, and peels himself out. He's disgusting, sticky inside his own clothes, so he sneaks into Chris' room to borrow sweatpants since Mark's are all too short. Chris isn't there, or Dustin, so nobody came home except them. Oh, well. At least now he can worry about Mark in peace.

"Mark," he says, ducking back into the bedroom. "You awake?"

There's no noise from the mound of covers, which means absolutely nothing, so Eduardo sets the glass of water on the windowsill and sits on the edge of the bed, digging until he unearths Mark's face. Mark definitely doesn't look normal - he's pale, and running hot, and Eduardo doesn't know enough about ecstasy to know if this is normal or if he's coming down with something.

"Hey, Mark," he says, pushing too-long curls back and uncovering more of his face. "Wake up for a second. You need to drink some water."

"Hmph," Mark says, and tries to roll away.

Eduardo grabs the back of his neck and shakes gently, waiting until Mark blinks his eyes open. "You need to drink this," he says, holding out the water.

"You have no shirt on," Mark says, holding out a hand.

"Well, at least your eyes seem to be in working order," Eduardo says.

"I'm fine," Mark says flatly, and it sounds freakishly normal.

"Okay, then," Eduardo snaps, almost yelling. "I'll just leave you alone now. Maybe next time you can take your drugs and stay there, and I'll leave you alone the whole fucking time." He doesn't even know what he's yelling for, but Mark sits up.

"You worry too much."

"Shut up, Mark," Eduardo says.

"I don't know what you want from me," Mark says. He shoves the glass of water away. "Stop forcing that on me."

"I don't want anything," Eduardo says. "And drink the goddamn water, would you?"

"No," Mark says stubbornly, and Eduardo snarls and shakes Mark's neck again.

It means more, when Mark is sitting up and looking at him from less than two feet away. He doesn't move away, doesn't even tense, and Eduardo realizes what he's doing and breathes out, sets the glass back on the windowsill and says, "Fine."

"That," Mark says suddenly, too loud. "Why?"

"Why what, Mark? Could you try to finish your sentences once in a while?" Eduardo says, standing up. That's not fair and he knows it. Mark is almost always grammatically accurate, to the point of being a stickler.

"Why do you keep ignoring me?"

Eduardo freezes, looking down at Mark. "Ignoring you?"

Mark nods. He's pushed up on one of his arms, swaying slightly to keep his balance, and not blinking while he watches Eduardo.

"I don't ignore you," Eduardo says incredulously. "I spend more time making sure you're alive than I do with anyone I've ever met."

"And then you spend twice as much time pretending you don't want to fuck me," Mark says.

Eduardo has absolutely nothing prepared to answer that. Mark pushes up onto his knees.

"Come on," he says. "Eduardo."

"Mark," Eduardo says hoarsely. "This is a bad idea."

"Please," Mark says. "Is that what you want? Please."

He drops his head down, smooth and practiced, and Eduardo makes a noise and kneels in front of him, grabbing his face. "Look at me," Eduardo says. "That's a really bad idea."

"What are you so afraid of?" Mark says. He sounds confused and vaguely annoyed. "This is almost perfect. We know we can stand each other, we're around each other all the time, and nobody will ever even notice. It's incredibly convenient."

"Convenient," Eduardo says, rolling the word out of his mouth, and Mark's head moves like he was going to nod and then remembered Eduardo's hand holding him still.

"And you freak out when you see me with other people," Mark says. "It would probably cut your blood pressure by ten points and save you the effort of checking me over for bruises and marks every time you see me."

Eduardo hadn't realized Mark knew he did that. He always touches him, how did Mark know it had changed?

Mark is almost smiling at him, mouth tilted up into a funny line, and Eduardo breathes in too sharply.

"What's your safe word?" he asks. Preliminaries, boundaries, whatever, he should know all this.

"Perl," Mark says, and Eduardo snorts a laugh before he can help himself. Mark smiles too, looking pleased with himself.

"That really shouldn't surprise me," Eduardo says. He releases Mark's chin, steps back off the bed.

Mark's knees go together as he settles down onto his heels.

"Not today," Eduardo says, and Mark's head comes back up, glowering already, and Eduardo almost holds up his hands in self-defense. "I'm not saying no, Mark, but you are coming down off drugs, and I don't care what you think, your skin is clammy and you look sick."

"I'm fine," Mark says rebelliously.

"Go take a shower," Eduardo says. "I'm allowed to worry about you."

Eduardo can see Mark debating something, tilting his head as if measuring the distance to the bathroom, and belatedly Eduardo says, "Don't even think about trying to get out of it. I'm serious about not doing anything today. You refuse to cooperate and I'll make Dustin bathe you, see how much fun that is for you."

Looking horribly betrayed, which is mostly only visible in the way he skirts around Eduardo like a dog around a newspaper, Mark heads off for the bathroom. Before he shuts the door he sticks his head out, glaring once more for good measure and looking about one step away from literally sticking out his tongue. The entire effect is ruined by the way his curls have managed to wind themselves straight towards the ceiling. Eduardo wants to kiss him so badly.

"I'm going to go get my stuff from my room," he says instead. "I'll pick up breakfast on the way back. Requests?"

Mark shuts the door on a slam.

Eduardo makes it into the hallway before he starts laughing.

---

Mark is actually sick. He pukes almost as soon as he smells the food Eduardo brings back, and then he curls face down on the couch and makes muffled whining sounds.

Eduardo would be gloating about it and rubbing it in his face if he weren't pale and miserable and so bitchy that even Eduardo wants to strangle him. In between giving him orange juice, cough syrup, and crackers so his stomach has ammunition for the next round of puking, Eduardo rubs his back sympathetically and manfully ignores the cut-throat motions Dustin keeps making at Mark.

Chris makes himself scarce, a heretofore unrevealed germaphobia making him turn green every time Mark so much as breathes out, and when he sneaks back in the following morning for clothes and Mark still hasn't shown a sign of getting better Eduardo gives up his room key in exchange for a delivery of clothes and soup.

Mark sleeps a lot more when he's sick than he does normally. Logically, Eduardo knows everyone does, unless they push themselves to ignore it, but Mark's normal is five hours, tops, and here he is, twelve hours at a time, still and prostrate and making whimpering noises in his sleep.

It makes Eduardo want to do things to him, which almost definitely means Eduardo is a really bad person. He tries to make up for it by bringing extra soup every time he goes out for food, but Mark still smirks at him like he knows what's going on.

Fucking Mark. He probably does.

Dustin, on the third day, decides to go stay with Chris. Apparently Mark is an exceptionally irritating sick person, even compared to three little siblings, but Mark must be feeling better because on the last word he throws a shoe at Dustin. Two days ago he wouldn't have had the coordination, never mind the drive to actually move.

It's sort of peaceful after that, and Eduardo ends up getting Mark back into his bed for most of the fourth day, so on the fifth day they wake up squashed together and Eduardo sweating so much his clothes are sticking to him.

Mark is already awake, eyes half open and looking at him from four inches away, and Eduardo says, "We have got to stop doing this."

"I don't think I'm sick anymore," Mark says, when Eduardo comes back in Chris' sweatpants again.

Eduardo is beginning to detect a pattern here. "We're not having sex," he says flatly.

"Who said anything about sex?" Mark says. "I just want you to stop shoving that fucking cough syrup down my throat."

"Come on, out to the living room," Eduardo says, rolling his eyes, but yeah, he's pretty sure Mark isn't too sick anymore too.

---

Dustin and Chris move back in, loudly in Dustin's case, and don't leave. Mark watches Eduardo more than might be considered normal, and then gives up after a couple hours and takes the laptop when Eduardo finally relinquishes it back to him.

"It's almost sick, the way you cradle that thing," Dustin says thoughtfully, watching Mark stroke his palms over it. Mark ignores him completely.

"Shut up, Dustin," Chris says. He shoots a faintly apologetic look at Eduardo. Eduardo raises his eyebrows, amused. "You sound jealous."

Dustin snorts, then laughs, and then, too late, realizes an actual verbal response might be required and starts protesting. Mark smiles a little. Eduardo is pretty sure he isn't imagining the way Chris watches Dustin.

By the end of the next day pretty much everyone is moving back onto campus and it's weird, how loud and cramped the wide-open spaces can feel. Mark is finally finishing his coding project and ignores everyone not bearing food or caffeine, and even Eduardo can't get him out of the chair longer than is necessary for things like using the bathroom and plugging the computer in.

Eduardo doesn't try that hard. He's terrified of what they'll do when neither of them is high, sick or busy any more. Besides, the few times Mark does look away from the screen and explain about his program, about how it will track everyone's courses and just change the way Harvard students choose classes, he looks so enraptured that Eduardo can't make himself interrupt. Nobody can make Mark happy like Mark.

And suddenly they have a weekend before classes start, and Mark is emailing out his program. It's too late for students to use it for enrollment this semester, of course, but he explains it's meant to build steam so everyone will use it next semester. Eduardo congratulates him and then helps him get undressed when he's too exhausted to get his hoodie over his head. Chris stands in the doorway the entire time, shaking his head affectionately at them and possibly Eduardo in particular.

Mark wakes up in time for dinner on Sunday but Eduardo does actually have his own life and the first club meetings of the semester have already started up. He gets a pissy text message from Chris for leaving them to deal with tired, weirdly-cranky Mark, but it's almost midnight and Eduardo decides to stay in his own room for the first time in over a week.

Classes start bright and early the next fucking day, and Eduardo thinks it really sucks that they managed to spend the rest of break within fifty feet of each other at all times and never even talked about it again. His fucking life, Jesus.

He texts Mark that night, tells him to tell Chris and Dustin that Eduardo's got a student council subcommittee meeting and not to wait for him that night.

The next morning he's got an email.

You're avoiding me is all it says, and they have really got to go over the definition of attention, if Mark thinks he isn't getting any. Eduardo literally has no more time to devote to him.

You're impossible, he sends back, and adds at the end, I'll see you tonight, okay?

He gets an answer in his one-thirty Western Civ class.

Do you want to know anything other than my safeword?

Eduardo can't think of any applicable word for Mark other than presumptuous, which is sort of humorous and disturbingly accurate, but he's still too horrified that the people sitting behind him might have read that to do anything but close his email program for the rest of the class.

In his break after he finds a table in the corner of the library. Mark hadn't waited for a response.

This falls under the category of ignoring me. I know you're checking your email, Wardo.

If you don't want to ask that's fine. We can go by trial and error.

God damn it.

No, we CANNOT do trial and error. Jesus, Mark. That's DANGEROUS.

Please tell me you haven't approached all of this like that. And yes, I have things I need to know. You should, too.

Eduardo doesn't bother adding anything else. He'd bet anything Mark will answer in a couple of minutes. Instead, though, an AIM window pops up.

You worry too much. I don't have questions. What do you want to know? Mark's sent.

Small things, Eduardo sends back, and wishes it were possible to beam sarcasm through a monitor. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that he wasn't aware he even had AIM installed on his laptop. You know, like hard limits and anything that you find unbearably traumatizing.

Traumatizing? I don't think I'm the one who's been doing things dangerously.

You know what I MEAN, Mark. Answer the fucking question.

You realize you only swear when we're talking about this? I don't have any limits. I've never done anything I disliked.

You've never done ANYTHING you dislike? There's NOTHING you don't do? Eduardo hopes his incredulity is getting through. And no, I swear other times too. It's just never loud enough for you to hear. Aren't you supposed to have class right now?

I'm in class, Mark sends, and Eduardo is horrified. Of course he is. And it doesn't count if other people can't hear it. You're not being helpful. Why don't you explain what you dislike so badly? Maybe I can share your traumas.

The first thing he is going to do, Eduardo decides, is gag him. I don't like blood, or anything involving it - needles, knives, whatever. I don't like tying people up and leaving them, even if it's supposedly safe. I won't do anything drunk or on drugs, obviously. I hate most types of roleplay.

Well that's not informative. I knew all that. You worry too much, you're a neat freak, and you want to fuck the person you're actually with. That's boring. And only an idiot would do this drunk or high.

Eduardo maybe has to put his head in his hands for a minute or two so he doesn't make stupid noises and look insane. In the mean time Mark apparently gets tired of waiting.

Tell me what you like instead.

You first, Eduardo sends. He's already feeling like he's losing this, and they're not even technically competing.

I don't know.

Eduardo has a hard time believing that. He waits.

Depends on the person. I don't know what I'd like from you. I want you to fuck me.

He stops breathing for a minute, but he knows the answer to that one. That was a given. Tell me what you LIKE, Mark.

There's no response. Eduardo waits, staring off at a shelf of books on Irish history, and when he has to shut his laptop and get to class he's disappointed.

He isn't going to get on during class, he isn't, but then the professor keeps droning on about the syllabus and he's in the back row anyway, so he can't stop himself from at least checking his email.

1 new message.

I'm not trying to avoid answering. I don't know what I'd like from you. I can't think of anything I wouldn't like. That shouldn't make Eduardo's stomach clench, not when Mark's already told him that he can't think of anything he dislikes, period, but it really doesn't matter at this point. It's the thought that counts, or something, and more so since Mark never really puts thought in at all.

I want you to fuck me. I like being tied up. I like bruises. Please tell me you don't have a problem with marks. I've never seen any on you, but that doesn't necessarily mean you don't like giving them. That's one of my non-negotiables.

Eduardo has to close the email. The professor hands out another sheaf of papers, this one about a project that isn't due until the end of the semester, and by the time everything's been passed around Eduardo feels a little like leaving the class immediately, first day be damned.

I already told you I like rope burns. That goes with the marking, I guess, and the tying up. I don't like being blindfolded - that is one thing I didn't like, I forgot to mention. One of the first guys I did this with, he blindfolded me. I couldn't tell where he was looking, and I didn't know if he was paying attention or not. I'm good at waiting normally but I hated that.

Something in Eduardo hurts. He'd always known he was lucky, getting introduced to it the way he had, with a friend determined to help him. He doesn't want to know that Mark had to figure it out piecemeal, even if that was pretty much normal for people like them.

It's not a mistake he would've made with Mark. Blindfolded, yes. Ignored? Never.

I've never considered knives or needles. I can't think of anything else off the top of my head. The girl sitting next to me has been reading over my shoulder. She looks panicked. She deserves it.

"God, Mark," Eduardo says, under his breath, and smiles when the girl next to him glances over.

He grabs pizza and all the beer from his room and doesn't bother knocking when he gets to the door of the suite, just juggles the pizza boxes and opens the door.

"Food!" Dustin says, putting his arms up victoriously, and Eduardo lets him snatch all the boxes, amused.

"Thanks," Chris says, absently, and then dives for his share before Dustin can hoard it all.

"Beer," Eduardo says, as a decoy, and when they go for that he puts a couple pieces of pizza on a plate for Mark. He sets the plate by Mark's hand and dodges back around the corner before he can see if Mark looked up. They should actually eat, but Eduardo is pretty sure he won't let them do that if he looks at Mark right now.

Chris and Dustin were in the middle of an argument over Final Fantasy games when he came in, which is something he knows nothing about. He makes the mistake of mentioning this and gets roped into an explanation of the complete plot of the first two games. It sounds terrible, honestly, but he bites his tongue and figures he'll ask Mark for a better opinion later.

Which, it's been long enough. "Mark?" Eduardo calls. "Did you finish eating?"

The sounds of keys just - stop.

"Mark," Eduardo says again.

"Yes," Mark says. He's not even bothering to sound annoyed at the interruption. Chris is looking between Eduardo and the bedroom door quizzically.

"Then let's go," Eduardo says. He thinks he should keep track of what was different about his tone of voice there, because the clack of Mark's laptop shutting is loud and immediate.

"Dude," Dustin says, looking very interested. "Where are you two going? Why is Mark in a hurry? Why is Mark actually going?"

"They're going for a walk," Chris says, because Eduardo is staring at Mark. Mark has his backpack over his arm, looking like he's actually at least somewhat prepared for this. There are even shoes - of a sort - on his feet already. "Eduardo was complaining about the fact that Mark never leaves his room."

"He actually went to classes today," Dustin says, looking monumentally confused.

"I want to encourage the habit," Eduardo says, stepping in. Chris looks at a loss, and it's not his job to clean up their messes anyway. "And then we're going to stay at my room tonight."

"Tired of living in the middle of Mark's mess?" Dustin says sympathetically.

Eduardo smiles at him, wondering how on earth he can be so obsessed with getting laid and still so dense. It's a welcome relief sometimes, but how does he ever tell when a girl is interested?

Chris is giving them a wry, understanding look when Mark ducks around Eduardo's side to stand in the doorway. Eduardo shrugs at him.

"Don't forget to throw the pizza boxes away so it doesn't smell in here tomorrow," Eduardo calls, and steps out. Mark goes out before him, skittering just out of touching range and then waiting for Eduardo to get the door shut.

He follows Eduardo down the stairs, and out of the building, and down the main steps, and then Eduardo realizes, "You don't know where my room is, do you?"

With painful dignity, Mark says, "I never needed to."

Eduardo laughs a little and says, "I know." His breath fogs in front of him and their feet make soft crunching sounds in the snowy sludge on the ground, and he finds himself watching Mark's sandals-and-socks combination with horrified awe. He should be used to it by now, he knows, but—

"They're not your feet," Mark says. "Stop it."

Opening his mouth to lecture, Eduardo ends up meeting Mark's eyes for the first time all evening and he realizes he's being ridiculous. Mark realizes it too, if his belabored expression is any indication, but he is still putting up with it, and that's enough of an assurance that Mark really does want him that Eduardo feels ridiculous for worrying about any of it.

"I don't know why I'm always in your apartment," Eduardo says, to make conversation. "I have a single all to myself, but instead I'm always over dealing with all your shit."

"You get lonely," Mark says, so matter-of-factly Eduardo has to hold his breath. "And be fair to Chris. None of it's his shit."

"That leaves you and Dustin," Eduardo says drily. Mark's roommate is seriously never there. "Which means that's an impressive mess for two people."

"My mess is all in my room," Mark says. "Blame Dustin."

"We always do," Eduardo says.

When Eduardo lets them into his room Mark kicks his shoes against the wall and throws his bag haphazardly in the corner.

"Uh-uh," Eduardo says, and watches Mark look puzzled for a second before he raises his eyebrows and tips his head at the shoes and the bag.

Mark looks surprised, then incredulous, then mutinously annoyed in quick succession, but he kicks the shoes into the same corner as the backpack.

Eduardo barely avoids rolling his eyes. Mark raises his chin and looks stubborn.

"What do you get out of being difficult?" Eduardo asks.

"A sense of achievement," Mark says sarcastically.

Eduardo looks at him. He's standing, feet sort of tilted inward and hands buried as far in his hoodie as they'll go, shoulders hunched. He's standing in the most awkward pose possible and looks utterly comfortable doing it. Eduardo wants to cuddle him and strangle him, and goes burning hot at the thought that he can do both.

"Perl," Eduardo says, one last confirmation.

Mark's eyes narrow, probably with impatience. "Yes."

Eduardo nods, and steps forward to kiss him.

Mark freezes for a second, surprised, and Eduardo catches the sides of his face in his palms. It's easy, slow - Mark's face is still cool, neck only a little warmer when Eduardo slides his hand down, temperature still adjusting from outside. Eduardo sort of wishes he'd thought to start this kissing thing earlier, like weeks ago, so he'd have had a chance to get some of it out of his system.

Instead he licks at Mark's mouth and bites gently at his top lip, and then pulls back. Mark leans into him, and Eduardo braces his hands against his shoulders and pushes him back.

"Strip," he says.

"What do you want me to call you?" Mark asks abruptly.

"You could try my name," Eduardo says sharply. "And I'm not going to tell you again, Mark."

Mark is, as always, efficient. His hoodie and shirt come off all in one go, and he manages to get his pants down in the same motion as he gets off one of his socks, and then he toes off the second sock and kicks the whole mess the way of the shoes and bag. One sock makes a run for it and flies off to the side; Eduardo feels himself twitch a little and forces it down. They can work on that.

He walks slowly around behind Mark, who stays stiffly still.

"Relax," Eduardo says. Mark's shoulders shift a little like he's not sure what he's being asked for. "Relax," Eduardo repeats, with more emphasis, and reaches out to press at Mark's shoulders, straightening his posture. Mark moves, but seems more confused by it than anything. Eduardo's starting to get the idea that Mark's never done this in depth and long-term with anyone before, and is fiercely glad. "All right," Eduardo says, "that's okay." He wishes Boston weren't so cold. The dorms aren't well-heated enough to leave Mark standing here, to give Eduardo time to look him over. He'd probably get cold, which might not be too bad, but his muscles would definitely stiffen up. Eduardo sighs quietly, regretfully.

He slides his hands back over Mark's shoulders a couple times, nudges one of this thumbs over the top bumps of Mark's spine, and then pushes his hand up and forces Mark's head down, licking up the back of his neck like he's wanted to since he first saw him at his desk.

Mark makes a quiet sound, closed off.

"It's okay," Eduardo says. "I like noises. You can make any you'd like."

Mark doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't even nod.

Eduardo licks him again, this time over his pulse. "Answer me when I tell you something."

"Okay," Mark says, stilted. His hands are up from his sides, sort of hovering in the air like he's not entirely sure what to do with them.

"Yes," Eduardo prompts.

They wait. Eduardo would be mildly irritated, maybe, if he wasn't already hardwired to find everything Mark does adorable, and also if Mark's total cluelessness didn't mean he was new to this, which makes Eduardo's skin go hot at the same time it makes him, in general, a very happy person. It makes the cuddling urge a little stronger, which could've been irritating, but it isn't like he's planning on beating Mark tonight or anything.

Finally, sounding confused and more than a little uncomfortable because of it, Mark repeats, "Yes?"

Eduardo smiles against his neck, holds his head and moves back around to kiss him. Mark makes a surprised noise into his mouth and kisses back. "Good," Eduardo says. "That's good."

Mark is looking at him with a funny expression, like he's trying to work Eduardo out still, but there's nothing tight or unhappy about it. Eduardo bumps his nose into Mark's, really wishes they'd made out weeks ago, and forces himself back.

"Face down on the bed, please."

That Mark can handle. He crawls up, balances on his knees and looks at Eduardo. "Where do you want my hands?"

"Wherever you're most comfortable," Eduardo says. Mark opens his mouth again. "I'll move you when I need to."

Mark shuts his mouth and flattens out. He tucks his hands under his head, folded, and tips his head sideways to look at Eduardo.

Eduardo takes off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair. Mark's eyes follow his movements. Next go cufflinks, dropped into the box on the corner of the desk. He walks over to his closet, counting his footsteps to keep them even, takes his shoes off and sets them in the closet. He turns back around and Mark is watching him, face unfocused. His eyes track Eduardo, though, and Eduardo comes back and kneels by the bed, smiling at him. When he brushes hair back off of Mark's face Mark blinks at him once.

"If you want to know what I'm doing or going to do next you can ask," Eduardo says. "I don't promise I'll tell you."

Mark nods. Eduardo waits.

"Yes," Mark says.

"Didn't think you'd learn so quickly," Eduardo says dismissively, condescendingly, and watches.

Mark doesn't even blink. That's - unexpected.

Eduardo moves up onto the bed, kneeling. He straddles Mark, pressing hands against his shoulders against. Mark moves with him, pressing them into the mattress, and his hands slide apart so his face is flat against the bed.

Eduardo doesn't really plan to do anything but touch. He slides his hands down Mark's back, thumbs framing his spine, and then back up with his fingers brushing over his ribcage. Mark's skin is cool but not uncomfortably so, and Eduardo figures he should be all right for a while.

He licks down his spine first, starting at the top of Mark's neck and working down. Mark shivers a little when Eduardo blows over the wet spots, a quick instinctive movement that he tamps down. He also gets prickles of goose bumps all over him, and Eduardo rubs his shoulders and back until they go away again.

Grabbing one of his arms, Eduardo tugs. Mark folds it back - he's flexible, his hand reaches the middle of his back easily. Eduardo kisses his palm and then trails his fingers over it, up his ribs to his armpit and down to the crook of his elbow, the palm of his hand. There's no ticklish spots, which is mildly disappointing in an abstract sort of way, but when Eduardo traces the center of his palm his fingers curl inward, like he never mastered the infant reflex to hold on, and Eduardo kisses there again and then puts his hand at the small of his back.

He takes the other hand, repeats the same motions a bit quicker. Nothing unexpected besides a scar near his elbow Eduardo wants to ask about later, and then he's setting that hand, curled slightly, on Mark's back, too.

Mark's breathing slowly, eyes half-closed and staring off to the side, no longer trying to crane back to see Eduardo. When Eduardo licks the back of his shoulder and blows he goose bumps, too relaxed to shiver.

Eduardo moves off of him, undoes his shirt buttons and slides it down his shoulders, drapes it over the chair with the jacket. Mark's eyes follow him still.

Leaning down, Eduardo digs through the drawers under the bed. He knows Mark can't see what he's getting, and it's nothing important - he wants to see if Mark asks.

He doesn't, quite: instead he makes a vaguely quizzical sound. Eduardo waits but there are no words forthcoming so he kneels back up on the bed.

This time Eduardo starts with Mark's feet, and he finds his ticklish spot. Touching the arch of Mark's foot makes his toes curl in frantically, and he goes half-tense like he's having to consciously prevent himself from kicking. Eduardo huffs out a laugh, which makes Mark twitch again. The back of Mark's knee gets the first noise - licking gets nothing, but Eduardo curls his fingers around his leg to bend it up and Mark makes a sort of huff.

"Hmm?" Eduardo says, and runs his fingers up and down the kneecap. Mark turns his head, looking back and down at him as best as he can without lifting his head or twisting his shoulders. Then Eduardo trails his fingers over the back and gets a shudder, so he presses his thumbnail in and scratches slowly over the skin. A quiet moan, and Mark's foot curls again, pressing in closer to Eduardo's side.

Eduardo smiles. It would figure Mark would have the weirdest, most specific hot spots.

He keeps moving up, touches over his thighs and over his ass, on his hips and back up to his hands in the small of his back. Except now Eduardo knows what to look for, so he has to start over from the beginning, scratching.

Nails on his neck get an irritable noise, but nails behind his ears make Mark actually twist his head away, the first distinctly displeased response Eduardo's gotten. He kisses the corner of Mark's mouth in apology, though he keeps note of it for later.

Nails on down his spine, though, and Mark tries to push up like a cat. It doesn't work very well with his hands still behind his back, and he looks pretty annoyed when he realizes this. Eduardo laughs, and smacks his hip lightly when he scowls.

He doesn't particularly care about scratches anywhere else on his back, at least not until they start getting hard enough the lines take a while to fade. Then he pushes back into those, too.

By the time Eduardo's done with that Mark's breathing has moved into slight hitches, and Eduardo kisses the side of his mouth again and grabs the bottle of lube that's been warming against one of Mark's legs.

Eduardo wants to talk to him, but Mark's so quiet. And getting no response right now, the way Mark ignores him when he's focusing on his programs, would tempt Eduardo to do things they're not ready for. So he bites his tongue, and reminds himself that - convenience - this is not going to be the last time they do this.

He slicks his fingers up, three of them, and then sets the lube to the side.

"Get up on your knees," he says. He doesn't move from between Mark's legs, and Mark blinks slowly, brows furrowing a little like he's trying to figure something out. Mark's hands start to move, and Eduardo catches and holds them against his back. "No."

Mark doesn't move for a few moments, and Eduardo is about to give him a warning when he squirms. He shifts sideways, carefully, and slides one knee almost all the way up under him. Eduardo forgets he's supposed to be breathing when Mark scoots the other one up too and lifts, easy as that. It was gorgeous, and almost more than Eduardo had hoped for.

He says, "That was very clumsy. You look ridiculous."

Mark colors. He blushes, and turns his face further into the bed sheets, and his fingers curl up and his hips push back, just a little.

Okay, then.

Eduardo has to make sure he's not smiling stupidly when he leans down and kisses the base of Mark's spine, then says, "You can move your hands now. Don't hold yourself up."

Mark makes an affirmative noise, but he's hard and leaking against his stomach, and Eduardo can see the wet spot on the bed from where he'd been lying so still and so good. He lets him get away with the non-answer.

The first finger slides in easily, and Eduardo doesn't bother to wait for the second because Mark didn't react at all to the first. It gets him a startled noise, and he grins, and Mark's legs sort of shake, and Eduardo palms Mark's ass before sliding his hand down and around to his cock, pressing it against his stomach.

Mark is breathing oddly, like he's trying to keep himself quiet and running out of air to do it. Eduardo presses his hand harder against Mark's cock and stomach, curls his fingers for the first time.

Breath going out in a rush, Mark moans. His eyes are squeezed shut. He's so hard, and so wet, and Eduardo doesn't understand how he can be so still and so calm and already so close, but he grabs Mark's cock properly, curling his hand around it and pressing his fingers underneath the head.

"How close are you?" he asks, and Mark makes a sharp noise like the moan again and comes, mostly silent and shaking like cold-shivers.

"Okay," Eduardo breathes out, caught between shock and reverence. He wasn't expecting that level of responsiveness, but - fuck, Mark could have a tail and Eduardo would think he was perfect. He'd wanted to rim him, get more fingers in, maybe roll him over and blow him, but that was pretty amazing, too.

"Easy," Eduardo says absently, and pets Mark's back while he pulls his fingers out. Mark makes another answering sound, still meaningless, and Eduardo sighs. "Words, Mark."

"Hmmm," Mark says, and rolls over and up before Eduardo can stop him. His hands reach out, hook around Eduardo's belt.

"Did I say we were done?" Eduardo says, and catches his wrists, squeezing hard.

Mark freezes, looking torn.

Eduardo is so fucking gone. "On your knees," he says, instead of cooing and petting and possibly giving belly scratches.

Mark falls off the bed, landing solidly on his knees with a thump that makes Eduardo wince in sympathy. His hands go back to Eduardo's belt, and Eduardo does not have the will power to stop him.

"Mark," he says instead, and Mark looks up at him, eyes wide until Eduardo gives in and helps yank his belt open.

Getting his pants open just far enough to get at him, Mark finds Eduardo through his briefs and licks over him, sucking a tease until Mark fumbles the band down and gets the head of Eduardo's cock in his mouth. And fuck, maybe Eduardo was being unfair, because Mark's mouth is sloppy from orgasm and a bad angle, and Eduardo's cock nudges across his tongue and the roof of his mouth a couple of times before he's hissing, digging his fingers into his thighs rather than grab Mark, and coming.

Mark swallows like it's nothing and then flops his head against Eduardo's leg, boneless. Eduardo slumps back onto his elbows and says, "Yeah," because that's pretty much how he feels too. Holy shit.

Mark doesn't seem to have any intention of moving though, is the thing, so Eduardo pets his head until he blinks his eyes back open and says, "Come on, up here, under the covers, you'll freeze, we can't stay here all night."

It's warm enough with Mark's head shoved under his chin, even if they are both naked now. Mark throws himself over Eduardo, less like he's trying to cuddle and more like he's intending to sprawl and Eduardo just happens to be there. Eduardo pets his head and says, "Shh, Mark. So lovely," and other nonsense, because he can make himself stay quiet during but after his mouth will always run away with him.

Mark makes more quiet humming sounds and passes out.

---

Eduardo has class in the morning.

It's possible Mark is even more upset by this than Eduardo is.

"Fuck you and your attendance record," he says distinctly, and shoves a second pillow over his head.

"You're very grumpy," Eduardo says, and finishes doing up his shirt. His arm is still stinging from where Mark had clawed at him when he first tried to get up to his alarm.

"It's dawn," Mark says feelingly. Eduardo's mildly concerned he may suffocate.

The covers are down at Mark's waist, and he looks like he seriously is not planning on moving. "It's nine," Eduardo says, amused. "You realize Chris has a seven o'clock class?"

Mark doesn't answer. Eduardo puts his shoes on.

"Hey," he says, kneeling down next to the bed. "Please don't miss your classes. It's only the second day."

Mark still doesn't answer.

"Mark," Eduardo says, and brushes his fingers over his shoulder.

Mark yanks both pillows up to glower out. "Fine."

"I just—"

"Worry," Mark says. "I know."

"Crabby," Eduardo says mildly, and isn't expecting the hand Mark tangles in his hair.

Mark yanks him forward, kissing him. Eduardo hums, pleased, and leans onto the bed, settling a palm over the curve of Mark's shoulder.

Releasing Eduardo as abruptly as he grabbed him, Mark drops the pillows back over his head and says, "Go put stupid amounts of effort into your worthless grades and leave me alone."

"I'll miss you, too," Eduardo teases. Mark sacrifices one of the pillows to throw at him, and gropes around until he can yank the covers all the way up over his head, remaining pillow and all.

---

Economics classes do suck, but grades aren't worthless - they can't all be Mark, who will doubtlessly be hired for ridiculous amounts of money whether he graduates or not. Eduardo also is not stupid enough to risk losing the parental funding that gives him time to do things like fuck around at sex clubs instead of at, oh, a job.

He's pretty sure Mark would give him a disappointed look and go back to his computer if he ever tried to explain that.

His Tuesdays are not as unbearably long as his Mondays, thank god, so he's done by two and heads back to his room. He'll grab some clothes and drop off his backpack, head over to Kirkland.

His room is unlocked, and Eduardo rolls his eyes. He specifically left a key for Mark to lock the door behind him. It would figure he didn't.

Eduardo grabs his stuff, locks the door behind him, and heads to Kirkland.

"Begin," Eduardo says, "or first time or first visit or my room."

"How do you know what he means. These prompts could mean anything. It's impossible," Dustin says.

"It should be," Eduardo admits, a little sheepish. It's probably embarrassing, that he can still figure out how Mark's head works after so long. So much for moving on, and all that.

"Hey, so," Chris says, "I really do have some things I should take care of, so can I—"

"Yes, of course," Eduardo says, before Dustin can open his mouth. "We can do this. You must be busy."

He must be. Mark's in a fucking coma, and has that been released? If so, how is Chris dealing with that? If not - Christ, how has Chris kept it from getting out?

"Hey," Eduardo says, as soon as Chris is gone. "Dustin."

"What," Dustin says flatly. He's already clicking to the next prompt. It says Next?

"Dustin, hey," Eduardo repeats. "Come on, man, you can't stay angry at me forever."

"Just - fuck, okay, let me. I'm shit at holding grudges, but - was the whole thing because you two were dating? Was Facebook just your break up volley?"

"No," Eduardo says. "It - well, okay, yes, but not in the way you're thinking. Facebook broke us up, not the other way around. You saw what happened—" Dustin snorts, "You did, Dustin. We just happened to be sleeping together, too."

"Right," Dustin says, skeptical.

"We were never dating," Eduardo says. "We didn't even have a relationship to break up." They did, but not in the way Dustin thinks. God, Eduardo hopes Dustin doesn't know - Chris figured it out as it happened, but Dustin? Eduardo thinks Dustin is more naïve than he gives himself credit for, and Mark and he have done more than enough to ruin that already. Eduardo doesn't want to compound their guilt.

"Just fucking," Dustin says, but he looks like he's slotting that into place. "What the fuck ever. You were not just fucking."

"We were," Eduardo insists. It's important. "A lot, but still. Mark always said it was convenient."

"Just fucking," Dustin says. "Sounds like a great plan."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't much of one. Mark never had a problem keeping us separate from the important things."

"Whatever," Dustin repeats. "What's the answer?"

Eduardo stares at him.

"What's the answer?" Dustin demands, and then throws his hands up. "Oh, fine, fuck you, too. I forgive you, okay? Can't even let me be mad at you for twelve hours. I'm not the one who ran off and refused to talk to me for a couple of years, like Chris was the only one worthy of your attentions, but you come back and drop this on me and I can't be mad? Fine. I forgive you. Asshole."

Eduardo tries really, really hard not to grin at him. Obscenities aside, Dustin really is that easy. Eduardo is envious - even if he'd been given the opportunity to swear at Dustin for a few seconds way back then, there's no way he would've forgiven and forgotten after venting for a while. Eduardo is under no illusions that Dustin's complicity was any worse than what he and Mark did. They actively lied to him for years.

"I have no idea what that prompt is referring to," Eduardo admits. "There was a long period of time where nothing major happened, so it could theoretically be any of it? Or none of it. Just try a couple answers."

When Eduardo gets to the dorm the door is locked. He got through the front door by waiting for someone to leave, like always, but he's never had a problem getting into the suite itself. He frowns curiously and knocks a couple times, loud enough they should be able to hear him. There's still no answer, which is more startling than it should be. It's only three in the afternoon - most of the hall is empty, there's no reason they shouldn't all be out at classes or with friends, but frankly, they never are.

Eduardo shrugs and heads down to the end of the hall. He'll look ahead through his economics text while he waits.

"Eduardo?" Chris says, coming up around the top of the stairs, and Eduardo smiles.

"Hey, Chris."

"Is it locked?" Chris says disbelievingly. "It's never locked."

"I don't think anyone is in there," Eduardo says.

"That doesn't mean it's ever locked," Chris repeats.

Eduardo winces. "I'm not surprised."

Chris unlocks the door and waves Eduardo in before him.

"Oh, shit," Dustin says, and almost falls off the couch. The girl with him - under him, naked, whoa - makes a shrill, outraged noise and says, "You said they would be gone."

"Sorry, our mistake," Chris says, sounding strangled. "Carry on," and he hauls Eduardo out by the strap of his bag.

Now they both retreat to the common room.

"Well," Eduardo says. "Now we know why it was locked."

"The hell was that?" Chris asks. He sounds like he's making good headway to being outraged.

"I think that was Dustin getting lucky," Eduardo says. It's probably uncalled for - Chris honestly looks shocked - but this is funny, okay, Chris should see that.

Chris gives Eduardo a dirty look. "I'm leaving," he pronounces. "Between you and Mark and Dustin and his - girl, I've had it. I'm going to the library, and then I'm going to my meeting, and then I'm only coming back here after if there's nowhere else to go."

"Why are you out in the hall?" Mark asks, showing up quite precipitously.

"Dustin has a girl in the suite," Eduardo says. He very carefully doesn't want to look over, because Chris is already giving him a look of betrayal. If he goes all sappy at Mark right now it would probably be the end of him.

Mark doesn't seem to understand. He stands there for another moment, wherein Chris squirms and Eduardo watches the couch cushions, and then turns on his heel and proceeds to the door. He opens it, says loudly, "Dustin, I'm going to my room. You have one, too. Use it," and marches on through.

Chris and Eduardo both cringe, but the damage has already been done, so they follow him in.

"Hi," the girl says, and this time she has a shirt on. No pants, but she looks like she's working on that.

Chris smiles at her, looks around for Dustin, and then goes to hide in his room like an enormous coward.

"Hello," Eduardo says, as the only one left out there. "I'm Eduardo, sorry to interrupt like that."

"Oh, you didn't interrupt," she says cheerfully. "We were done. I'm Tiffany, by the way."

"It's nice to meet you," Eduardo says. "Um, can I help you find—"

"Oh, there," she says. "Under the couch, of course!" She wiggles into them, entirely unselfconscious, and then asks, "Do you know what time it is?"

"Um," Eduardo says, checking his watch, "it's about three fifteen?"

"Oh, shit," she breathes, and yells, "See you, Dustin!" on her way out the door.

"She has class at three," Dustin says helpfully, sticking his head around the doorframe. "Did she at least get her pants on first?"

Distantly, Eduardo is pretty sure he hears Chris make a dying sound.

"Yeah," Eduardo says. "So. Who was that?"

"Tiffany," Dustin says. "We have class together in the morning."

"You met her today?" Eduardo asks.

"Yes," Dustin says defensively. "Why are you all so shocked? I am more than capable of getting laid."

"On the couch," Mark says. He doesn't need to say anything else, because Mark is a master at conveying disgust with as few words as possible.

"You met her this morning," Eduardo tries to explain, and then Chris hollers, "In the middle of the goddamn afternoon!" as the clincher.

"Well, you're all here the rest of the fucking time!" Dustin hollers back, and everything sort of degenerates from there.

Mark, predictably, vacates to his room, and Eduardo hangs around only long enough to make sure Chris and Dustin aren't actually mad at each other. Chris holds grudges like nobody else, and there is only so much Eduardo can do if he's decided to hate Dustin for eternity. His pride is a fragile thing, and Eduardo counts himself lucky that Chris hasn't decided to hate him. If he needs to prove himself a valuable ally in order to retain that forgiveness, he's willing to do so.

"You're not hovering over them," Mark says when Eduardo decides his room is better than the living room, where Dustin is still hopping around shirtless.

"No," Eduardo says. "They got over it."

"They're still yelling," Mark says. "They probably won't stop for a while."

Eduardo has no idea what Mark means by that, but he knows what a normal person would mean so he decides to work with what he's got. "How was class?" he asks, sitting on the edge of Mark's desk by his computers.

"Boring," Mark says succinctly. He's clicking through something furiously.

"Just boring," Eduardo says lightly.

"Wardo," Mark says, looking up at him. "You don't care how my classes went."

"Yes, I do," Eduardo protests.

Mark looks irritated. "Okay, yes, of course you do. I don't care how my classes went."

"Okay, okay," Eduardo soothes, laughing a little, and brings a hand up to Mark's face. Mark stays still. He shaved sometime this morning, the one hygienic routine he adheres to religiously. Eduardo has no idea why. He didn't shower, and Eduardo eyes his hair dubiously.

"I took a shower yesterday," Mark says. Eduardo probably looks surprised, because he narrows his eyes. "You're predictable."

"So are you," Eduardo returns, but he figures Mark doesn't take that as an insult so much. He probably doesn't mean it as one, either, and Eduardo brings his other hand up, sliding his thumbs across Mark's cheekbones and up to his eyes. Mark waits until the last possible second to shut them, and Eduardo can feel his eyelashes across his fingers when he finally does. He presses over his eyes gently, feels them move as Mark shifts uncomfortably, and then Eduardo slides his hands back into Mark's hair and leans down to kiss him.

"Hey, what are two you up to?" Dustin yells, banging on the door.

Eduardo leans back and sighs, letting Mark go and leaning over to unlock the door.

Mark stares at Dustin, expressionless, but Eduardo nudges him with his foot to keep him from outright glaring. Dustin doesn't know he's doing anything irritating, and Chris is giving them an apologetic expression from behind him.

"We should go to this thing in Boston tonight," Dustin says. "It's this museum exhibit on some weird shit."

"It's a thing Tiffany wants him to go to," Chris explains darkly. "And he's too much of an asshole to go by himself."

"She's bringing her friends, too," Dustin says, making hopeful eyes.

"Okay," Eduardo says.

"No," Mark says.

And that is how Eduardo goes two days without getting to touch Mark again.

Well, the museum exhibit only accounts for one. But apparently Mark takes offense at being delegated to second place, even if only for a night and when it's one for one of his friends, but they don't get back until eleven and Mark won't even look at Eduardo when he comes in to get his bag from the bedroom.

Eduardo says goodnight, and touches the back of Mark's neck, and Mark doesn't respond at all, and Eduardo can take a hint.

Wednesday is another long day, and he almost considers emailing Mark again but he doesn't know what he'd do if Mark doesn't answer - one evening is a snit, two days is a fight. They shouldn't be fighting yet - they don't have anything to fight about.

But that night he doesn't get over there until almost seven, and he's got his club meeting at nine, so he stops by only long enough to eat the food that Chris made Dustin bring. Mark comes out when Eduardo calls him, and he sits next to Eduardo looking supremely unconcerned with just about everything, and he leans sideways partway through so they're slumped together. Eduardo assumes this means he's forgiven, but he still has to go to his meeting that night since he's planning on running for an office the next year.

The next afternoon Mark does the unthinkable: he comes to Eduardo.

"Hello," Eduardo says. "I was just about to come over."

"I wasn't sure you would," Mark says tonelessly, and pushes past Eduardo to claim the bed, where he proceeds to sprawl and stare at Eduardo.

Eduardo takes the chair. "What?" he asks, smiling a little. "You need a haircut."

"My mother forgot to make me this break," Mark says. "You're avoiding me again."

"I'm really not," Eduardo says. "Do we need to review the definition of attention? I've been within fifty feet of you for I don't know how long."

"I don't mean that sort of avoiding," Mark says.

"Mark," Eduardo says. "I'm really not avoiding you."

Mark says, "Oh. Okay."

"What do you want?" Eduardo asks. Mark shrugs. Okay, then.

"Stand up," Eduardo says. When Mark is on his feet Eduardo tells him, "Take off your hoodie."

Mark does that too, hesitating over his shirt.

Eduardo stands up, walking towards him. Mark watches him, head tilted slightly. It's still almost unnerving - Eduardo knows Mark, knows he's just trying to catalogue everything that's going on, but Eduardo feels like he's being graded.

He kisses him, because then at least Mark's eyes will be closed, and then he reaches up and tangles a hand in Mark's shirt, pulling it up. Mark raises his arms, never so cooperative as now, and Eduardo twists the shirt until it's tangled in his wrists. He'll tie Mark up eventually, but that will do for now. Mark tugs at his arms, trying to bring them back down, and when he lowers them in front of himself Eduardo catches his wrists, pulls them back up.

Mark has to stretch up to kiss him. He's short enough for it to be hot and tall enough it's not uncomfortable.

"Is there anywhere you have to be tonight," Eduardo asks, biting at his mouth.

Mark shakes his head.

"By my definition, not yours," Eduardo amends. Mark never thinks he has to be anywhere.

Huffing, Mark tries to kiss him again.

"What do you have to do?" Eduardo asks, long-suffering. Mark gives him a narrow-eyed look. Eduardo shakes his arms where he has them above his head. Mark sways, jerked off balance. "And what time is it?"

"Chris and Dustin want me to go to an AEPi party with them tonight," Mark says. "Chris says we're shut-ins. Dustin thinks I need to get laid."

"Did you snap at him again?" Eduardo asks, ignoring the way Mark's smirking.

"No," Mark says. "He just thinks that he should share his good fortune with his roommates. He wants to find Chris a boyfriend, but that's more out of self-preservation. He thinks Chris will be nicer about Tiffany if he doesn't feel left out. Dustin takes a less direct route to getting his friends laid than you do."

Eduardo groans, and pushes Mark back a few steps, until his legs are against the edge of the bed. "I didn't sleep with you or Chris because it was a direct route to anything. You're the one who told me it was convenient."

"You're the one who fell for it," Mark says, this close to laughing at him, and Eduardo shoves him backwards. He gasps, twisting, but he doesn't have far to fall and his hands are still stuck in front of him. He can't catch himself. "Don't do that," he hisses, startled, and glares at Eduardo.

"Do what?" Eduardo asks. "By the way, if you say anything else I'm gagging you." It's the opposite of what he wants - he wants to hear Mark talk, whatever words Mark wants to say, to ask him questions and get answers. But Mark is considerably less cooperative when he's talking, and this is a weird reversal - he was so silent last time.

Mark glares at him so harshly Eduardo is almost fooled into thinking he's actually angry, but when he smiles Mark's eyes soften, even while he stares at the wall to try to hide it.

His hands are loose, there's no way the shirt will actually hold him, but he keeps still when Eduardo reaches down and lays his palms on his stomach, smoothing up. His breath first hitches when Eduardo thumbs his nipples, but not much. Eduardo grins down at him, slides his hands up to Mark's elbows, and digs his fingers into the ticklish spots.

He wants to see if Mark will talk, yell at him or kick and get actually, properly annoyed. Mark does, sort of. He twists, pushing his feet into the floor and trying to wriggle away, but Eduardo is between his knees and pretty much has him. He gets a leg up onto the bed, more leverage, and Eduardo grabs it, digging his fingers in behind Mark's knee.

Mark makes a high-pitched, outraged sound, about to wiggle himself off the other side of the bed entirely, and Eduardo flattens his hand and rubs gentle circles, laughing and saying, "Okay, okay."

Still glaring, Mark has his teeth clenched deliberately shut. He's not talking, Eduardo gets the idea. He grabs Mark's shoulders, tugs him back, and says, "You can put your hands down now."

Mark lowers them over his belly, leaving them together with the shirt still wrapped around, and Eduardo leans down to kiss his forehead, his cheek while he takes the shirt off. He folds it quickly, dropping it on the floor in front of his dresser. Mark isn't even watching him, instead tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling like some sort of passive-aggressive display of defiance.

Eduardo smiles, and unbuttons Mark's jeans.

"Do you never wear underwear?" Eduardo asks, exasperated. "This is the third time I've seen you naked, and you haven't had any on each time."

Mark lifts his head, all the way up, staring at him, and Eduardo raises his eyebrows for a few seconds. Mark gets more agitated the longer Eduardo waits, but his mouth is still obediently shut. Finally he makes a loud, exasperated sound and drops his head back, going limp again, and Eduardo kisses his belly and says, "You can answer."

"Three times?" Mark demands.

"Oh," Eduardo says, blinking, and then laughs. "You passed out on me once, I put you to bed."

"Naked," Mark says.

"Half-naked," Eduardo corrects, grinning. "I undid your pants so you wouldn't lose circulation somewhere while you slept. I was going to leave you in your shirt and boxers, but since you didn't have any on..." he trails off, hinting, and Mark levels another look at him.

"Mark," Eduardo says. "It's not like I molested you in your sleep."

Mark props himself up on his elbows, looking contemplative. "I know you didn't."

Eduardo waits.

"I wear underwear sometimes," Mark says. "It's just coincidence."

Eduardo is pretty sure that's not what Mark was just thinking about, but they've only got a couple of hours until Dustin and Chris will notice they're gone. They'll have to shower and get dressed before then, and after they'll have to go to that AEPi party. Mark will tell Eduardo eventually, if it's anything important.

"We don't really have time before the party," Eduardo tells Mark. Mark starts to shove himself up again, making a frustrated sound. Eduardo grabs his hips and pulls them towards the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees. "So I'm going to blow you."

Mark goes perfectly still for that, of course. His hands spread out flat over the bed, fingers twitching. Eduardo noses his thigh, licks the back of his knee to watch his toes curl, and says, "You can touch."

He's gentle, restrained even when Eduardo stops sucking abruptly, even when Eduardo uses teeth that probably come too close to hurting. Eduardo doesn't even have to hold his hips down - his breath hitches every time he wants to thrust up, but Mark never moves.

It's not until Eduardo digs his fingernails into Mark's thighs that Mark touches him. His hands find Eduardo's first, tracing over his fingers and pressing his nails in to ask for more. Eduardo scratches like Mark asks, and Mark loses too much self-control to keep his hips down.

He's trying to crane his head forward and watch. Eduardo pulls up and tells him, "Drop your head back."

He's not sure if Mark's moaning sound is frustration or agreement, but Mark does it. He touches more then, finding the top of Eduardo's head and yanking too hard at his hair. Eduardo sucks harder, going down further, and makes sure Mark can't move his hips.

Mark touches like he's trying to see - his fingers trail clumsily over Eduardo's face, over his eyelids and the bridge of his nose and down to his mouth. Eduardo releases Mark's cock to lick at them, biting affectionately, and Mark's breath stutters even though it was already coming unevenly.

"Come on," Eduardo murmurs softly, the room too hushed for it to come out as anything other than reverent, and Mark groans plaintively when Eduardo takes him in again.

Humming around Mark, Eduardo almost doesn't hear the way his breath stops and he says, "Eduardo," quietly, bitten off, and comes.

---

He sent Mark back to his room afterwards. He had homework to do, and Mark getting fussy about being ignored again was ridiculous when Eduardo was studying so he could spend the rest of the evening without worrying about his classes at all.

Mark took exception at being called fussy and left, and Eduardo rolled his eyes and pulled out his course books.

He gets through two chapters before he has to get dressed. He texts Chris to tell him he's coming, too, since Mark never feels like informing other people of these things, and then puts on a t-shirt and jeans.

They all look surprised when they see him, except Mark, who doesn't look up from his shoes and so doesn't actually see him.

"I didn't know you owned regular-person clothes," Dustin says.

"You've seen me wear them," Eduardo says.

"Only on weekends." Chris is grinning at him. "We thought the clothes fairy took away your suits for dry cleaning on Friday afternoon and you were forced to dress normally."

"Clothes fairy," Mark says drily, and prompts Dustin to start teasing Chris about all manners of fairies, whatever that meant.

"Mark," Eduardo sighs, looking at him. "I told you to shower."

"No, you didn't," Mark says easily, looking up at him.

Eduardo frowns. He's pretty sure he did, but Mark doesn't bother lying about these things. Eduardo must have forgotten, which is unfortunate - Mark doesn't smell, but his hair is a limp mess and he should've at least changed clothes.

"All right," Dustin says, shoving them forward. "Let's go. Objective for tonight: sex!"

They get odd looks for that, particularly from groups of girls who are huddled together against the cold and walking to some party or another.

"I'm pretty sure sex is always the objective at parties, Dustin," Chris says. "Why so many people, otherwise?"

Dustin blithely ignores him. "I will be at Tiffany's room tonight, so that means that one of you can bring someone back and one of you can go home with someone and we will all have our own space. Eduardo, man, you always have your own space."

"Yes, Dustin, thanks," Mark says.

Chris is cringing away from Dustin's flailing arms.

The party, despite Dustin's pep talk, is a letdown. There's nowhere near enough people or alcohol for everyone to be interesting. They end up ditching and going to one of the business frat's parties, which is awesome for everyone but Eduardo, who gets roped into a discussion about the college's graduation requirements with two entirely-too-sober guys in the front entryway.

Mark hovers for a couple of minutes and then wanders off, and Eduardo doesn't blame him.

When Eduardo does get himself free the biggest surprise is that Chris has actually found himself a guy. It's not that Eduardo doubted Chris - he doubted the quality of the guys at a party like this. But the guy's Indian, and tall, and Chris taps Eduardo on the shoulder and gestures as they leave. Eduardo guesses that means it is what it looks like, and decides to round up Mark and Dustin.

Dustin is already gone, the traitor, and Mark is in the corner. He's talking to a pair of girls, both of them blonde and vapid-looking and really not what Eduardo would have pegged as Mark's type, even if he hadn't known Mark's type already.

"But are you sure," one of the two is saying when Eduardo walks up, feathering a hand over Mark's shoulder, and Mark looks at Eduardo blankly.

"Hey, girls," Eduardo says, edging around them to Mark's side. He drapes an arm over Mark's shoulder, too fed up at the disaster of this evening for subtlety, and asks, "What are we talking about?" Then he gets a look at them and smiles more genuinely. "Hey, Kaylee, right? We have Comm together."

"Yes, hello," she says, smiling brightly and dropping her eyes.

"We should go," Mark says. "It's late."

It's not even eleven. They're college students; it might as well be dinnertime.

"Are you okay?" Eduardo asks when they get outside. It's still the middle of winter but Mark doesn't even shiver at the smack of cold air. He hasn't ducked out from under Eduardo's arm.

"Yes," Mark says, raising his chin and looking over at Eduardo, and Eduardo doesn't understand how anyone thinks Mark is hard to read - it may not be on his face but his body language is the easiest of anyone Eduardo has ever tried to learn.

"Chris found a guy to go home with," Eduardo says. Mark hums disinterestedly. "Which, as Dustin helpfully spelled out earlier, means your suite is empty."

"Your room is always empty," Mark points out, always practical.

"My room doesn't have a private bathroom," Eduardo says.

Mark makes a face. "Why are you obsessed with making me shower?"

"Besides the fact that you could use one more than once a week?" Eduardo says. He lets his arm drop off Mark's shoulders as they get closer to the dorms, digging his thumb into Mark's collarbone before he lets go. It feels fragile under his fingers, like he could push too hard and break it. Mark is maybe too skinny. "I was thinking it would be fun."

Mark stays quiet, which is as close to outright agreement as Eduardo is ever likely to get. He probably doesn't want to encourage Eduardo on the bathing thing - he thinks it's a waste of time, and agreeing it has its good points will only lose him ground in their ongoing war.

The suite is quiet and dark, and Eduardo is immensely relieved. If they'd gotten back and found out Billy had decided to make his once-a-month appearance Eduardo would have concluded the universe is against them.

Mark strips as soon as they're through the door, shedding hoodie and long-sleeved shirt and undershirt like water. He kicks his jeans off in the direction of his door, and Eduardo trails behind him, catching his clothes and bundling them up. He sidetracks to Mark's room to drop them in his nearly-overfull hamper, and hears the water come on.

He leaves his underwear on to head to the bathroom, just in case a roommate walks in. Mark is in the bathroom, head leaning around the door to look out suspiciously as if he expects this to be a hoax.

When Eduardo goes in Mark asks, "Do you have some freakish aversion to being naked? I should know now."

Eduardo laughs, startlingly loud. He hadn't realized how this must look. "No, I don't." He lets Mark yank the underwear down and stands there while Mark fits his hands along Eduardo hips, looking over him. Tipping their heads together, Eduardo says, "Water should be warm."

Mark huffs quietly but lets Eduardo push him back into the shower.

When Eduardo gets him under the spray Mark squeezes his eyes shut against the water pouring down over his face. His hair plasters itself to his head, curls going wet and straight, and he doesn't let go of Eduardo's hips.

Eduardo cups his face, combs his hair out of it, and tilts his head back until most of the water is running down the back of his skull. Mark opens his eyes tentatively, squinting, and Eduardo leans down to kiss him.

It was a tactical error. Mark smiles against his mouth, and Eduardo starts to smile back instinctively, screwing up the kiss. Then Eduardo is being yanked forward while Mark tumbles back, and they both nearly fall over. But they don't, and now Eduardo is soaked and Mark is out of the spray, and Eduardo says, "You are a brat," feelingly.

"Do you want to try that?" Mark asks, the curl of his mouth giving the teasing away. "It's not one of my kinks, but if you want to roleplay - just no diapers."

"All right, let me rephrase," Eduardo says, past the water getting into his mouth with every word. "You're a pain in the ass."

Mark smiles at him, dimples and all. Eduardo pulls them together, and now they're both under the water. Mark doesn't try to escape this time, just stays put for kissing while their skin grows hot.

"We're supposed to be getting clean, not just wet," Eduardo says, scraping his teeth over Mark's jaw.

"What next," Mark says, too low for the sarcasm to come through properly, "rubbing alcohol?"

"Just soap," Eduardo says mildly, and dumps an enormous amount of shampoo over Mark's head.

Mark splutters a protest, hands coming up, but Eduardo grabs his wrist.

"Let me," he says, sliding a hand through the wet mess. "Just hold still."

Mark looks like he's disgusted by the whole thing, but he hums agreement reluctantly and stands still, hands twitching against his sides and eyes furrowed shut. Eduardo digs his fingers into Mark's hair and scratches at his scalp. Mark makes a startled, pleased noise and drops his head forward.

Eduardo, because he's a good person, does not say I told you so.

Mark's hands come up, scrabbling and Eduardo's wrists until his hands go where Mark wants them, rubbing at spots where Mark gets tension headaches. He makes a quiet humming sound, and Eduardo keeps going until he's swaying back and forth, threatening to fall asleep or fall over. Then he tips Mark's head back again, holding him there until the water runs free of bubbles. Then he goes in to kiss him again. Mark just opens his mouth, slow like he is half-asleep.

Mark sways into him, mumbling, "Can we get out now?"

"How about washing more than just your hair?" Eduardo says, grinning, and grabs the shampoo again.

"Give me that," Mark says, snatching it from him. Eduardo holds up his hands placatingly, startled. "If I let you do it we'll be in here another hour."

Eduardo laughs, rubbing his hands over Mark's shoulders, wet skin.

"No," Mark scowls, batting him away. "Get out, you'll probably take forever to dry off, too."

"All right, you win," Eduardo says, climbing out. He grabs Chris' towel, because it has the highest probability of actually being clean. Mark's probably is, too, if only because it never gets used. Mark just peels himself into his clothes wet and then shivers his way into near-hypothermia outside. He can still see Mark vaguely through the green shower curtain, and he says, "Make sure you actually wash."

"Behind my ears and everywhere," Mark says snottily. His shoulders make the motion that means he's rolling his eyes.

Eduardo rolls his eyes in return and climbs out.

Mark's room is a mess, and since Eduardo has probably about five minutes before Mark comes out he makes use of it. There's no point getting dressed, and there's no way he can do anything about the floor, but he kicks everything away from the bed and sets Mark's laptop on the desk, his bag by the door. Then he sets about making the bed, finding pillows all the way at the foot and a sheet mostly off to the side and a comforter completely untucked.

Feet pad up behind him, and Eduardo finishes settling the pillows properly before turning around. Mark is standing in the doorway, and Eduardo would've expected some smart comment about the cleaning, but Mark isn't looking at the bed. He's got his head up and he's looking at Eduardo like he's waiting. Eduardo's stomach drops, and his tongue feels too clumsy.

He tries to say come here, but it comes out sounding like Mark's name, so instead he holds out a hand.

Mark's smart - he figures it out. He has a towel draped over his head and the rest of him is still pretty much soaking wet. He's dripping all over the floor and starting to shiver. Even Eduardo is cold, and he dried himself off thoroughly before draping the towel over the chair to dry.

He's not an idiot, though, and Mark will actually get cold, so he tugs Mark closer, and Mark tilts his chin up for a kiss. Eduardo ignores it, nosing behind his ear, and Mark smells good, warm and clean like this. Eduardo should find a way to bribe him into showering every day if he can, or possibly threaten him into it.

Mark turns his head, nose bumping Eduardo's cheek. He's trying to kiss, lips dragging along Eduardo's jaw, but Eduardo says, "Hold still."

Mark freezes.

Eduardo grabs his shoulders, turns him around and pushes him toward the bed. Mark makes to crawl onto it and Eduardo catches his hips. "Stay like this."

Mark is bent over, head down, and he shifts his weight to stand more solidly on the floor. Eduardo slaps his hip in warning, and Mark sucks in a breath.

Kissing down his spine, Eduardo asks, "Do you have condoms and lube?"

"Yes," Mark says. He shivers, and Eduardo can't tell if it's from the cold or from the brush of fingers over his balls. Eduardo doesn't care - either way, Mark's hard.

"Where?" Eduardo says.

"Drawer," Mark says, and when Eduardo goes for the nightstand, "Desk."

Eduardo finds it easily enough, and valiantly doesn't make fun of Mark for keeping lube in his desk drawer, right by the computer. Mark probably honestly has never thought about it that way; that or he'll give Eduardo a look for being surprised that it was in the most convenient location, if not the most socially acceptable one.

"Don't move your hands," Eduardo says, "and don't come."

He slicks his fingers, reaches around and strokes Mark's cock a couple of times. Mark bites his lip and stays still and totally quiet.

"Why do you do that?" Eduardo says quietly, kissing Mark's shoulder and circling Mark's cock tightly. "Try so hard not to make noise?"

Mark doesn't answer him. Eduardo bites his shoulder and Mark makes a sound.

"Answer me," Eduardo says, a warning.

"You told me not to talk," Mark says. He bites his lip again right after, and Eduardo loosens his grip, stroking again as a reward.

"Only for earlier," Eduardo says. "I also told you I like to hear you."

Mark's hips push forward into his hands, just a little. Eduardo stills again.

"But not words," Mark answers doggedly. His breath is coming unevenly but he's putting an obscene amount of effort into keeping his voice even. Eduardo really wants to hear it break.

"Only earlier," Eduardo repeats. "If I wanted you to stay quiet the rest of the time I'd tell you."

"You could order me to talk," Mark says. His tone is still even, but his eyes flick to the side.

Eduardo slaps his hip again. That was too close to an eye roll to let it go. "That's not the point," he says.

"What is the point?" Mark asks.

"I want you to talk or not because of what you like," Eduardo says. "Not because you're trying to make me happy based on something I had you do once." He fingers the head of Mark's cock, bored with this. They're not getting anywhere. "I like hearing you talk, but I don't want to force you to do it. That's never hot."

"And someone choosing to babble like a moron is?" Mark gasps, hips stuttering when Eduardo twists his hand and lets the head drag over his palm. There's no lube there, and it's probably too rough.

"It's not babbling," Eduardo says, licking the back of Mark's neck and moving up to his ear. "It's hot. You're saying you wouldn't like it if I told you what I wanted? That I wanted to lick you open and fuck you and then tie you up and do it all over again?"

He presses the fingers of his free hand lightly into Mark, just teasing, and it's that or the words that make Mark's breath stop for a moment, coming back out on a moan. His eyes close. Eduardo kisses his cheek chastely, takes that as a good sign, and keeps talking.

"You emailed me to talk about it, was that pointless?"

"That was gathering information," Mark forces out, and then grinds his teeth together.

Eduardo lets up, gentling his hand over Mark's cock and dropping down to his knees. He kisses Mark's hip, watches the way Mark fits into his palm. He likes the way their skin contrasts, dark against pale.

"It made me hard." Mark shudders and Eduardo keeps talking. "I like how light your skin is," he tells Mark. "It looks like it would bruise easily. I know it goes red easily."

Mark swallows something down, shutting his mouth on it. Eduardo laughs.

"I think you like listening to me talk, don't you?" he says. "I mean, there's no way you're this close just from my hand on you, right?" He bites Mark's hip, hard enough it's red when he pulls back, and starts pulling again, hard and fast.

Mark makes a noise, high and desperate, and drops his head forward. He's still wet, and the skin of his side is cool when Eduardo presses his forehead to it, but there's sweat beading in the hair at the back of his neck.

"Don't come," Eduardo reminds him, and keeps stroking. "But I guess maybe it's not because I'm talking. You like being bitten, after all. You told me that."

He grins, licks Mark's ribs just because. His wrist is sore from the awkward angle and he moves faster, trying to get Mark closer.

"Eduardo," Mark gasps out, voice ragged.

"What?" Eduardo asks, shifting back onto his heels. He twists his palm over the head again and Mark whines.

"Please," he says, "please."

"What?" Eduardo asks. "What do you want?"

He's expecting Mark to ask to come, to ask for more, really anything except, "Don't stop talking," and he's smiling against Mark's skin before he can stop himself.

"What do you want to hear?" he asks. "More moronic babble? I'd be better off using my tongue for something else, wouldn't I? Dirty talk is so passé," and at that Mark groans and jerks forward, down onto his elbows.

Eduardo says, "That's enough of that." Mark groans protestingly until Eduardo stands up and slides his hands over Mark's ass.

Then Eduardo pushes until he's scooted all the way up onto the bed, legs spread everywhere and head almost dropping off the other side of the bed. It's a good thing he isn't taller.

"Don't kick me," Eduardo says warningly, and drops to his knees.

He thumbs Mark's ass, watching his fingermarks show up and fade. He blows cool air, and Mark shivers. He doesn't seem too cold from being wet anymore, but when Eduardo licks and then blows he makes a noise and shivers.

"Eduardo," he says quietly, almost a whisper, and then buries his face into the covers.

Eduardo spreads him open and licks over him. He doesn't have a lot of lube left on his fingers, so he gets Mark as wet as he can, curling his tongue in and over him until Mark's humping the bed with vague, half-aborted motions.

"You're so good," Eduardo tells him. "You don't squirm at all." He kisses the back of Mark's thigh.

When he licks again he slides a finger in with it. Mark's as easy about it as he was the first time, pushing back slightly. Eduardo curls a second finger in and licks around them, pulls away to scrape his teeth over the base of Mark's tailbone.

When he pulls them out to get lube on them Mark protests, pushing back and making a slow, depressed sound.

"Okay, just wait," Eduardo says soothingly, smiling at the back of his head. He has got to do this facing Mark next time.

Actually.

"Hey, Mark, come on," he says, and pets Mark's hip until he looks at him, eyes almost sleepy over his shoulder.

"Roll over," Eduardo says, "and get up against the pillows."

Mark blinks at him for half a second and then scrambles up, uncoordinated and quick.

Eduardo snags a pillow from behind one of his shoulders and Mark lists a little to the side, uneven. He doesn't seem to care.

"Put it on me," Eduardo says, holding out a condom. Mark leans forward and slides his fingers around Eduardo, stroking him a couple of times before rolling it on.

Mark's stretched, but probably not enough. He's more than relaxed enough, but when Eduardo starts to slide in it's tight, almost too tight, and Mark bites his lip, hissing through his teeth.

Eduardo leans over him, mouthing nonsense into his shoulder, and Mark's fingers feel boneless when they comb sloppily through his hair. He's shaking every time he breathes, and yeah, Eduardo gets that.

"Okay," Eduardo tells him, sliding out a little and working in further, and Mark whines a little and arches up, helping.

His cock is hard and wet against his stomach, and Eduardo thumbs it and licks his fingers clean. Watching him through slitted eyes, Mark makes a small noise, and then Eduardo's all the way in.

Mark pants, and then his legs shift restlessly and he curls a knee to press against Eduardo's side. He looks at Eduardo for permission after he's done it, eyes cloudy, and Eduardo pulls his leg up and kisses it, digging his fingers in to the ticklish spot on his foot.

Now when Mark squirms he's working back against Eduardo, and Eduardo almost bites him, the movement is almost too much. Mark says, "Eduardo, Eduardo, please," and Eduardo is pretty sure Mark isn't asking him to talk this time.

Eduardo scratches his stomach, and Mark pushes against him again, and that was the last of Eduardo's self-control. He didn't exactly want this to go like this, he wanted to make Mark come first so he'd be boneless and oversensitive when Eduardo pushed into him, but desperate and pinched attempts at good behavior are almost as hot.

"You're so beautiful," Eduardo says, or thinks he says, but Mark doesn't protest or squirm or do anything but let his head loll to the side and he's not entirely sure what language it came out in. He knows Mark likes to hear him speak, and he wonders what Mark would think of Portuguese. If Mark would listen, would try to do what he was being told even if he didn't understand.

Eduardo reaches down and fists Mark's cock, twisting sharply and letting Mark's hips buck up. Mark is close, has been, and he's not begging to come but Eduardo just does not have the patience for that today.

"You can come," he tells Mark, and repeats himself to make sure Mark understood. Mark blinks his eyes open to look at him hazily, rolling his hips up, and the whine he makes when he comes in a wet, sudden rush on his stomach is absurdly hot.

Eduardo bites his knee, because it's there and because he doesn't want to come yet, doesn't want to come and pass out with Mark and lose one of their nights to have the entire suite to themselves.

"Eduardo," Mark says, squirming up against him. He's mostly limp, but his hands trace Eduardo's face with the same fascination he had when Eduardo was blowing him. "I meant everything I said in the email." He pants for a minute, making a face like his body is sparking too much every time Eduardo pushes in. "I want all of that. Whatever you want. I don't know what to do, what you want me to do, but I'll learn, you just have to tell me—" His voice breaks, cracking when Eduardo bends his leg and drops it to the mattress, grabbing Mark's hips and digging his fingers in. There will probably be bruises, which is amazing, and Mark's hands cover Eduardo's, pressing them in harder. He makes a helpless noise, involuntary, and Eduardo wants to kiss him but he just bites desperately at Mark's shoulder while he comes, Mark's fingers tracing patterns over the backs of his hands.

"Hmph," Mark tells him authoritatively when Eduardo shudders a couple moments later and tries to pull away. "You're warm."

"I'll be warm under the covers, too," Eduardo tells him quietly, and pets Mark's hands until they detach. Then he rubs his palms over Mark's legs, gets them to unwind and spread limply over the bed.

"It's cold," Mark informs him, hazily.

"Get up, then," Eduardo tells him, kissing the top of his head, hair still half-wet and sticking to the sides of his face. "Get under the blankets."

"Easier to get under before you make the stupid bed and get them folded and hard to grab," Mark says crankily, but he won't let go of Eduardo.

"I'm going to brush my teeth," Eduardo says, pulling off the condom and trying to pull away, and Mark shakes his head stubbornly.

He flails around behind him, and Eduardo tries to sneak away, but his legs lock around Eduardo's waist until he holds up a trashcan, blearily triumphant. Eduardo throws the condom away, and then Mark pulls him down and says, "Don't care," and kisses him on the mouth to prove his point.

Eduardo waits until Mark is asleep and then half-tumbles to the floor while trying to stand. Mark is a very determined sleep-cuddler - even if he's the little spoon, he clutches Eduardo's arm like a lifejacket. Mark wasn't entirely asleep, it turns out, because he slits his eyes open and Eduardo gets glared at with as much energy as Mark can muster.

"Don't care," he repeats, almost unintelligible, and Eduardo whispers back, "But I do," and finishes rising.

Mark's mostly-asleep disgusted sound is the exact same as his fully awake one, which makes Eduardo grin. Eduardo clambers back into bed, sticking his feet against Mark's ridiculously warm legs and listening to his sounds. "You make more noises than anyone I've ever met," Eduardo tells him sleepily, tucking his face into Mark's neck. His mark is right there, so he licks it one last time for good measure.

Mark doesn't respond, because apparently Mark goes out like a light after getting fucked. Eduardo promises himself he'll use this trick whenever Mark is avoiding sleeping like a normal person. Which, okay, is not really a promise as much as stating the obvious, but the thought counts. He also decides to try to shower after the orgasms next time - Mark is a lovely sort of limp whenever he's just come. Maybe Eduardo can get him off once and then again in the shower.

---

"Aren't you cute," Chris says the next morning. "But Dustin will probably be back soon and I think you have class, Eduardo, so you should probably move."

"God damn it," Eduardo says, "I fucking hate economics."

Mark mumbles something, which might have been a curse on both of them or vehement agreement with Eduardo or a reminder that he called that two days ago, or all three. Mark's noises were versatile, as if his vocabulary needed any help.

"I made coffee," Chris says softly. He doesn't sound like he's teasing, and he's being quiet and terribly nice, like Chris is in the mornings, and Eduardo makes himself say, "Thank you," and start slowly detangling from Mark.

Chris shuts the door behind himself. Eduardo noses Mark's hair and says, "Good morning. I have to go."

Mark whines, totally asleep again, and turns his head further into the pillow.

Eduardo kisses the hickey high on his neck, not even vaguely ashamed of the flush of possessiveness seeing it there gives him, and takes himself away, one limb at a time.

"You want to just keep clothes here?" Chris asks sympathetically, when Eduardo comes out trying to straighten up his shirt.

"Yeah," Eduardo says. "I'm probably going to make Mark keep clothes in my room, too. At least some shirts."

"Nah," Chris says, making a face. "You can't tell with Mark anyway."

Eduardo laughs quietly. "Hey," he says, because it's early morning and they're both almost whispering, and the messy suite feels like home and also a little bit magical, "I never thanked you."

Chris laughs down at the counter, the tips of his ears turning red. "Don't thank me for sleeping with you. That's fucking creepy."

"That's not what I mean," Eduardo says quietly, and waits while Chris works through the embarrassment and comes up with something to say.

"It's not like I expected us to date or anything," he says. "Even if I did, it's not like it was hard to figure out that the reason you're around is for Mark. I got two weeks from you and a lifetime of blackmail material - that's pretty good for a freshman fling."

"You're a nice guy," Eduardo says. Chris makes a laughing, disgusted sound. "No, listen," Eduardo insists. "You're much nicer than Mark. You're too nice for me."

"You're talking about what you two do," Chris says. "And please stop. I don't want to know more than I already do. I'm happy for you, okay?"

"Thank you," Eduardo says. "And if you ever need my help so you can be happy—"

"Hey, guess who got laid again!" Dustin proclaims, slamming open the door. "Only got four hours of sleep, but damn, so worth it—"

"Dustin, shut up," Chris hisses, and Eduardo gives them a smile as he edges out the door. He has to get his books from his room still. They're too involved in each other to notice.

---

Dustin's relationship with Tiffany lasts a little less than a month. He's the one to dump her, to everyone's surprise. He takes offense at their surprise, of course, and there's no amount of explaining that they thought he was much too nice to ever dump a girl that will convince him they're not insulting his taste and ability to have a relationship.

"Straight guys are so fucking insecure!" Chris yells finally, throwing his hands up.

"Gay guys are so fucking superior!" Dustin yells back, and then they spend three days not speaking to each other.

"Why are they mad at each other?" Mark asks Eduardo bemusedly, when he finally notices they haven't looked at each other since the beginning of the week.

"I have no idea," Eduardo says. "Sexual tension?"

Mark gives him a look like he doesn't find that funny.

Eduardo grins and pulls him forward, kissing him.

"Don't do that," Chris says snappishly, coming through the door to the suite and glaring at them as he headed into his room.

Mark says, "Do you want us to shut the door?"

Eduardo shakes his head at Mark, and gets up to talk to Chris.

"What's up?" he asks, ignoring the way Chris is throwing his bag around.

"Nothing," Chris says. "Go fuck Mark or something."

Eduardo catches his arm, waits until he looks calmer and then says, "Come on, I'll be out on the couch."

Mark gives him a disinterested look from the open doorway, and Eduardo waves him off while he settles in to wait. He's not completely sure Chris will come, but he does, flopping back with a put-upon sigh, and Eduardo hands him the remote and a beer. Chris looks distrustful, but by the time the alcohol hits he's more relaxed.

"So why are you and Dustin still fighting?" Eduardo tries again.

"No reason," Chris says. Eduardo cocks his head and Chris scowls at him. "None. I don't know. Nothing happened. He broke up with whatsherface and is taking it out on me."

"Right," Eduardo says.

"He's just so fucking immature," Chris starts up, and then Dustin comes in the door.

Eduardo swears under his breath, and Dustin stares at Chris, looking betrayed. "I'm immature?" he yelps. "What the fuck does that make you?"

They go after each other again, and Mark keeps making loud noises with his keyboard. He doesn't have his headphones in, and Eduardo would bet anything that he's irritated at their noise.

"Guys, calm down," Eduardo tries, and Chris turns on him.

"Shut up, Eduardo," he says, "Just because you're—" he bites off whatever it is, looking over at Mark's doorway. He's not going to say it in front of Dustin, and when he looks back at Eduardo somewhat guiltily Eduardo smiles at him. Eduardo understands; happy people suck to be around when you're miserable.

Dustin makes one last frustrated noise and stalks past them. But he knocks into the coffee table, and the bong sitting on it wobbles, toppling over. It hits the floor, shattering loudly.

Dustin looks at it, looks at Chris, and for a hopeful moment Eduardo thinks he'll apologize and they'll go back to speaking to each other. He decides not to, though.

"God—" Chris starts.

There's an awfully loud clatter from Mark's room, and then a shriek as the chair slides back, and then Mark looms in the doorway like a startlingly terrifying spectre. "This is the stupidest fucking thing either of you have ever done," he informs them. They both open their mouths and glare at him. He glares back. "You have no reason to fight, you're acting like teenage girls, and I think you both need to get laid. At least we know it works on Dustin."

Dustin makes a wounded noise, and Chris almost cracks a smile, and Mark finishes anticlimactically, nodding at them, walking over to grab his headphones out of his bag - Eduardo winces as he walks right over the broken glass in socks - and then settles himself back in front of his desk, headphones in place and looking perfectly content.

They all sort of stare at him.

"Did Mark just tell us to make up?" Dustin says. "Because I'm not sure I know how to translate such an unknown sentiment."

Chris snorts, and then looks like he didn't mean to, glancing at Dustin, but Dustin grins back.

"Come on," Dustin says. "He was probably right. It's Thursday, there are parties, there will be alcohol and willing bodies. Let's go!"

Chris looks panicked, and Eduardo waves at him helpfully as Dustin hauls him out.

Eduardo grabs his Econ textbook and reviews the chapters they'd covered this last week, and when he finally stretches and stands up it's six o'clock and Mark has had almost an hour. Eduardo walks up behind him, tugging his headphones down.

"Hey, Mark," he says, kissing the side of his head.

Mark tilts his head and keeps typing.

"Mark," Eduardo repeats, more softly, and licks behind his ear.

"Wardo," Mark says. "I have to get this updated. There's been more students on CourseMatch than I was expecting, I have to optimize the code to handle the extra load."

"How long do you think that will take?" Eduardo asks reflectively.

"It should only take a couple of days," Mark says. On the screen, different colors of text scroll by.

"A couple of days?" Eduardo says. "Dustin and Chris are gone now."

Mark finally seems to key in to what Eduardo's getting at. His fingers pause on the keys, hands hovering above it. Eduardo meets his eyes in the fuzzy reflection of his face on the screen. Mark looks torn. Then his mouth firms. "You haven't even made me eat dinner yet. I'm not stopping just to make out with you."

"You like making out with me," Eduardo reminds him, grinning. Mark narrows his eyes.

It's true, though. Mark always leans against Eduardo's side, throwing all of his weight against him like he has no idea he might possibly be inconvenient or heavy. He always starts off preoccupied, laptop on his knees while he leans back against Eduardo's shoulder in a way that can't possibly be comfortable. Eduardo likes to see how long it takes to get his attention - the first couple of weeks, it took a couple of fingers across the base of his spine and teeth in the back of his neck, and then Mark tipped his head forward, set the laptop on the floor, and let Eduardo at him.

But like building immunity, he got more resistant every time Eduardo tried it. Oh, he always listened if Eduardo told him to eat, and if it was after dinner and Eduardo told him to come over he was never late, and any time Eduardo told him to get naked it took less than a minute to get a response. But if orgasms weren't promised he wasn't so cooperative.

Eduardo had to move up to dragging nails down his spine, to sucking a hickey into Mark's neck or licking over bite marks before he would even twitch, and digging fingers into bruises on his hips got a shudder and an irritated shake of his head. Grabbing his hair and hauling his head around for kisses always worked, but Eduardo didn't want to start off with that. It was sort of hot, seeing what he could get away with before Mark had to give up and pay attention to him.

As difficult as Mark made it, once he let Eduardo lick into his mouth he was kind of a slut for it. He usually managed to finagle his way on top, till he was sprawled out over Eduardo like a blanket and making sounds almost like a purr. He usually didn't want to stop.

"Mark," Eduardo says cajolingly, grinning against Mark's shoulder. "Are you going to ignore me?"

"Yes," Mark says, and then resumes typing with a vengeance, as if quicker fingers and louder clacking sounds will make his point for him.

"All right," Eduardo says, and spins his chair around.

"Wardo!" Mark says, annoyed. "I need to get this done."

"I'm not going to try to stop you," Eduardo says soothingly. "I'm going to make you a deal."

Mark looks suspicious. "What?"

Eduardo raises his eyebrows and tugs Mark's chair away from the desk. Then he circles, dragging Mark with him, until he's standing in front of the desk and Mark is looking up at him distrustfully. He says, "You can keep coding as long as you can," and drops to his knees.

"What—" Mark says, but he's not stupid.

"Code," Eduardo says, nudging his knee. "Come on, you need to get it done, right?"

Mark glares at him and then jerks his eyes up to his computer. Eduardo can see him swallow, but the typing resumes.

"Good boy," Eduardo says, and Mark jerks while Eduardo drags his hands up his thighs.

It was one of the most surprising things about Mark, probably. Eduardo totally figured him for an attention whore - you only had to talk to him for a couple of minutes to figure that out. Everything else has been pretty hit-and-miss, like how he loves rope burns - and he wasn't lying about that one bit - but hates having his legs tied down. He didn't want to be blindfolded, but he ended up screwing his eyes shut every time unless Eduardo told him to open them. They haven't gotten much further than that - Eduardo may still be a bit too preoccupied with the part where he gets to kiss him and fuck him, and Mark isn't much better. They usually don't get further than naked before the condoms come out, and the rest of it takes patience that Eduardo still hasn't managed to find.

Mark, he's aware, will never be patient. Eduardo is pretty much just going to have to force it on him.

But Mark really likes dirty talk. It just does it for him, to the extent that Eduardo called him on the way to Kirkland one afternoon and by the time he got to the dorm Mark was hard, naked, and desperate enough that he jumped Eduardo in the living room.

It's kind of amazing.

Eduardo undoes the button on his jeans, and Mark wiggles, lifting his hips to help.

"You're supposed to be coding," Eduardo reminds him, drawing his hands back. "If you want to stop, though—"

He lets himself trail off, and Mark glares at the screen but doesn't look down at him.

Unfortunately, without Mark's help Eduardo can't do more than get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. He folds them open, and Mark is hard underneath his boxers, but Eduardo can't do much more than draw fingers up and down him. He leans forward, setting his mouth over Mark's stomach and sucking at a bruise he put there yesterday.

Mark whines and his hips push forward, just a little.

"Problem?" Eduardo asks sympathetically.

He loops a couple of fingers under the waistband of Mark's boxers, tugging them out and down until the head of Mark's cock is free, pressing against his stomach. Eduardo leans forward and licks under the crown, letting his free hand loop around Mark's back and pulling him to the edge of the chair, closer. It gives him more room, and he sucks the head into his mouth.

There's a loud clattering noise, like Mark's hand smacked down on the keyboard. Eduardo sucks harder.

"Eduardo," Mark hisses, almost too quiet to hear.

Eduardo pulls back. "Give up?"

Mark kicks him.

"I don't think so," Eduardo says, and yanks Mark out of the chair.

Mark yelps as he lands on his knees, and Eduardo catches his wrists. "You're an asshole," he tells him. "Can't just sit still and get a blowjob like a normal person."

"I'm the asshole," Mark mutters.

Eduardo releases his wrists, grabs his chin. "Yeah," he says, dropping his forehead against Mark's, "you are."

Mark swallows. "And?"

"And I can't let that go," Eduardo says quietly. "So you can go lay down on the bed right now, or you can go back to coding. If you can code until you come, without any errors at the end, I'll forgive you."

"If not?" Mark asks, eyes half-lidded.

Eduardo pulls away, kisses his nose because Mark hates that. "Then you end up on the bed anyway."

"That's not much of a choice then, is it," Mark says, rolling his eyes. "I'll take the blowjob, thanks."

Eduardo kisses his mouth. "I thought you would."

Mark looks a little surprised at how pleased he is, but Mark's kind of an idiot about walking into these things, so. Eduardo tries not to grin too widely. Mark is good at focusing on his computer, but he's not that good.

If he is, well, what's a little hurt dignity? Eduardo will live.

Mark stands up, fishing behind himself for the chair. Eduardo grabs his pants, yanking them and the boxers down. Mark stumbles, flopping down into the chair and looking down at Eduardo, betrayed.

"What?" Eduardo asks. "You didn't think I'd leave them on you? That wouldn't be fair."

"You're a freak," Mark says.

Eduardo kisses the head of his cock. Mark jerks. "Code," Eduardo reminds him, and swallows him down.

The typing starts up almost immediately, and it's less than half the normal speed. Eduardo pulls back, tongues under the head, and there's another smacking sound and then Mark hisses, backspacing. Eduardo almost laughs. "Problem?" he asks, moving back to the bruise on Mark's belly. He scrapes his teeth over it.

"Fuck you," Mark says. Eduardo pinches the inside of his thigh, twisting. Mark whines. When Eduardo looks up, he's got his teeth sunk into his lower lip.

"Don't bite too hard," Eduardo warns him. "Or it will hurt when I kiss you."

Mark doesn't release his lip.

Eduardo goes back down, pumping Mark's cock a couple times and then sucking on the head, letting his hand curl loosely around the base. He smooths his other palm up Mark's leg, cupping his balls and tugging gently. Mark moans.

He's probably close, Eduardo knows, but Eduardo is an impatient person. He ducks his head further down, sucking harder and determinedly. Mark makes an undignified noise and moves his hips, sliding his cock into Eduardo's mouth until he bumps the back of Eduardo's throat.

Eduardo pulls back, grabs his hips tightly to hold him still.

"Sorry," Mark gasps out. His fingers are only hitting a couple keys here and there.

"Don't stop typing," Eduardo reminds him. Mark shakes his head.

This time Eduardo licks up the inside of Mark's thigh, stroking his cock tightly. "I wish you weren't sitting down," Eduardo says. "It'd be nice if I could get a couple fingers in you." He licks up the bottom of Mark's cock. "It might be a little rough with no lube. You wouldn't mind, right?" The condoms and lube ended up in the nightstand where these things normally are, along with an extra set of velcro straps. The rest of Eduardo's stuff is still in his bedroom, untouched.

Mark groans.

Eduardo sucks his cock back in, careful to hold Mark's hips down. He lets his mouth go loose and sloppy, spit sliding down Mark's cock, and then he breathes in carefully and noses downward, relaxing his throat. Mark makes a startled noise and Eduardo hums warningly, which makes Mark cry out again. Then Mark's cock is nudging down his throat, just a little, but Mark shakes, his legs pressing into Eduardo's sides. Eduardo has to pull back, gasping for breath. Before he can go down again, Mark slumps back, hands falling off the desk to fumble onto Eduardo's shoulders, and he arches back, coming. His fingers scratch along Eduardo's shirt, knotting in the fabric and straining. He makes a whimpering noise low in his throat.

Eduardo licks over him once he's done, ignoring Mark as he pants up at the ceiling.

"Mark," he says. He manages to sound severe, which he thinks is pretty impressive considering how he wants to snicker and kiss him a lot. "You came on my face."

Mark's head shoots down, staring at Eduardo. He drops out of the chair, scrambling onto Eduardo's lap, and kisses him.

Eduardo groans, surprised, but then Mark licks him, cleaning his come off Eduardo's cheek, and Eduardo stares, surprised, at the side of Mark's face, his closed eyes. Mark goes back for his mouth, and Eduardo breathes, "Holy fuck," and shoves at him, tumbling him back onto the floor so Eduardo can flatten over him, kissing him hard.

Mark moans, hands pulling at Eduardo's shoulders even though he should be limp and cozy right now.

"Okay, okay, fuck," Eduardo hisses out, pulling away and dropping his forehead onto Mark's collarbone. "Fuck, stop."

"No, don't stop," Mark corrects, clinging more tightly, but Eduardo shoves himself away before Mark can catch him again.

"So let's see how you did," he says, grabbing the chair and hauling himself up. Mark looks up at him disbelievingly.

"Well," Eduardo says, blinking at the screen and smiling, "I don't know much about code, but I'm going to guess this is wrong."

The screen has cfmsz,oisvifMOmasfd all over it.

Mark says, "Whatever."

"On the bed," Eduardo says. "And take off your shirt."

Mark grabs it off, throwing it haphazardly toward the window. Eduardo sighs. Mark, as always, doesn't notice.

"So what?" Mark says, and crawls onto the bed, twisting around to stare at Eduardo. "Now you fuck me?"

"That wouldn't be conducive to changing your behavior, would it?" Eduardo asks, smiling. He unbuttons his shirt, dropping it at the end of the bed. "First you ignore me, then you kick me. And you came on my face."

"Yes, I did," Mark says, and looks immensely pleased with himself.

"Not good," Eduardo says, shaking his head. Mark still smirks at him.

"Turn over," Eduardo says. "On to your hands and knees."

Looking surprised, Mark obeys. They've never fucked like this. Eduardo has too much of a fondness for seeing Mark's face.

Eduardo climbs onto the bed behind him, sliding a hand over Mark's shoulder, down his spine to cup his ass. Mark peers back at him confusedly, glancing back at the drawer with the condoms and lube.

"Don't need them yet," Eduardo tells him. "Nice of you to think of it, though."

"So you're going to finger me dry?" Mark asks. "Like you said." He really doesn't sound like he minds the idea.

Eduardo reaches down and brushes a finger across the sole of Mark's foot. Mark jerks, twitching his feet away. "Hold still," Eduardo says. "You're moving way too much today." He digs his fingers into Mark's foot again.

Mark twitches again. "Then stop tickling me," he says, dropping his head and glowering at the bedspread.

Eduardo takes his hand away. "You know, if you'd just gotten on the bed before we could've just had sex." He kisses Mark's tailbone. There's a hickey there, too, and he eyes it appreciatively, digging his fingers into it and watching Mark push up for more.

"And now?" Mark says drolly. He doesn't sound unconcerned. "I mean, this way we still fuck, and I get two orgasms."

Eduardo snorts. "I'm not about to fuck you."

That gets Mark's attention. He lifts his head, craning around.

"Look forward," Eduardo says. "You're still moving too much."

Mark shakes himself, irritated. "Then what are you going to do?"

Eduardo smiles, and tickles Mark's foot.

"Stop," Mark says, jerking away. "You're not going to fucking tickle me." He sounds incredulous.

"No," Eduardo says, and brings his palm down across Mark's ass.

Mark yelps, startled, and starts to twist around. Eduardo grabs the back of his neck, holding him still, and says, "You can either say still or I can tie you up."

Mark breathes for a couple seconds. "Seriously?" Eduardo hits him again, closer to his hip and harder. Mark breathes in sharply and says, "I'll hold still."

"Good," Eduardo says, and slaps the back of his thigh. Mark tenses, all over, and Eduardo hits him again. "Have you ever done this before?"

"Been spanked?" Mark says. He sounds like he's a little bit in shock. "Uh. No." His voice wobbles when Eduardo smacks him again.

"Really?" Eduardo says. "I thought you had. You made that crack about your mother spanking you, too, after all."

"You have to mention my mother at this precise moment?" Mark says. His voice is tight. Eduardo wonders if he's getting hard again.

"You don't like that?" Eduardo asks, amused. He brings his palm down on the same spot twice, harder the second time. Mark's hips jerk, just a tiny amount.

"Uh," Mark says, and swallows. Eduardo slaps his thigh again, and this time the handprint takes a while to fade.

"So is that the payback?" Mark asks. "You talk about my mother and I feel bad for kicking you."

Eduardo makes a face at the back of Mark's head. How does his mind work? "No," he says. "The spanking is the punishment. I don't have to talk at all. I just thought it would make it easier on you."

"Uh, not to discourage you, but the spanking isn't so much a deterrent?" Mark's voice goes up on the end, when Eduardo hits him again and then digs his fingers in. His whole backside is faintly red now.

"You don't think so?" Eduardo says. "But then, you said you've never been spanked before. If you can tell me everything is still fine in a couple of minutes I'll have to find some other deterrent." He slaps lightly a couple times, in quick succession, and sees Mark jerk at the sting. "Or I can just go get a paddle."

"You have a paddle?" Mark says.

Eduardo laughs. "I have a lot of things, Mark. Now shut up."

Mark holds still amazingly well, even when Eduardo's hand is numb and there are scatterings of red all over Mark's ass and thighs. He's making quiet, high noises, and Eduardo shakes his hand out and switches sides. Mark starts to lift his head a little when Eduardo climbs off the bed, but Eduardo touches his shoulder and says, "Stay there."

He climbs back onto the other side of the bed, trails his cool hand down Mark's ass. He brushes his finger over his hole, pressing just a tease, and Mark moans, low and pathetic. His eyes are screwed shut.

"I have a lot of things," Eduardo says, picking up the earlier thread. "Paddles. I have a crop, too. I've never played with whips - never really got that far with anyone."

Mark makes a noise, and Eduardo draws his hand back and hits him. Mark yelps, and it sounds mostly like surprise, but his ass is bright red and he's trembling. Eduardo strokes the back of his head, the sweat on his neck, and then grabs his neck and holds him. "Go down," he says quietly. "It's okay."

Mark goes down less like he meant to and more like his arms gave up on him. He's breathing fast and heavy, but his face looks smooth. Eduardo hits him again. "I'm going to use a paddle next time," he says lowly. "I didn't think you'd like this so much."

A noise, a half-focused version of Mark's usual disgruntled protest, and Eduardo snorts. "Are you really trying to argue right now?" He makes sure he hits over the worst of the bruising, right over the thin skin where Mark's thighs meet his ass, and Mark cries out, fading into a moan.

Eduardo hits him lightly a couple more times, just to get the point across. "Done?" he asks.

Mark doesn't answer him, and Eduardo pets his neck, nudges fingers under his chin to turn his head to the side. "Open your eyes," he tells him, and Mark has to blink a few times before his eyes stay open. "Good," Eduardo tells him, combing fingers through his hair. He digs the nails of his other hand into Mark's ass, watching the skin turn white. Mark groans, shuddering, eyes slipping closed.

When Eduardo tickles the bottom of his foot he shakes and whimpers. He doesn't move.

"Good," Eduardo says, and grabs his hips, easing him down. "You did so good."

He has to leave the bed to get the lube, and when he comes back Mark blinks at him slowly, hand curling up. "On your back," Eduardo says quietly, and watches while Mark settles, hissing when the rough cotton rubs against sore skin. He arches, which only makes it worse, but he doesn't look like he knows what to do with himself, so Eduardo grabs his ankle. Mark stills immediately, focusing on him hazily.

The lube is cool and probably feels good, if the way Mark pushes back against Eduardo's hand is any indication, and Eduardo slides a couple of fingers in. It's not very nice, curling his fingers to watch Mark's hips jerk. It scratches against his ass, and Mark whines every time. He's hard against his belly, and Eduardo grabs his cock, jerking him slowly.

"Eduardo," Mark says, reaching up lazily. "Come on, please," his fingers curling against empty air.

Eduardo catches his hand, kisses his palm. "What do you want?"

"In me, come on," Mark says, but when Eduardo follows his hands they end up kissing, Mark nudging sloppily at his mouth.

Eduardo has to pull away to get a condom, and when he comes back Mark is rolling over, pushing back up onto his hands and knees. It's so hot, and Eduardo wants to fuck him like this, scratch his ass and watch the skin turn white and then raise up, add bruises to his hips, but—

"You can lay down," he tells Mark, leaning down to kiss Mark's shoulder.

"No," Mark says, "like this. Please."

"Okay," Eduardo says. "Okay, yeah."

He fumbles the condom on, so close to coming it's almost a joke. He grabs Mark's hips as he slides in, reaching down to grab his cock again. Mark's hard, the head's wet. Eduardo moves slowly, until Mark groans and pushes back against him. The movement almost has his arms going out again, and Eduardo grabs his neck and pushes him down. Mark moans, clenching down on Eduardo.

"Mark," Eduardo says, and thrusts in too hard.

Mark cries out, and his cock jerks in Eduardo's hand, and fuck, Eduardo really hadn't thought he'd like this so much.

"I am definitely going to use a paddle next time," Eduardo says, promises to both of them. "God, I want to see you. Would you let me make you cry?"

Mark moans, low and impossibly loudly, but Eduardo's coming, thrusting in hard a couple more times.

He pulls out almost before he's done, drops the condom by his knee and fumbles Mark over. Mark yelps again when the bed scratches along his ass, but Eduardo's sucking him into his mouth and it's either that or the pain that brings him off, sudden and quick, shaking under Eduardo's palms.

Eduardo drops his head to Mark's stomach, breathing hard. Mark's making quiet noises in his throat every time he breathes out, like little sighs. Eduardo drags himself up. "Stay still for just a minute," he says.

Mark sort of slits his eyes open, looking at Eduardo. If he were less fuzzy he'd probably be making a caustic comment about whether he looked like he was planning on moving. Instead he looks softly happy, and Eduardo pets his side and says, "I'll be right back."

He bundles the condom up and drops it in the trashcan in the corner of the apartment, which he'd feel more guilty about except he always ends up being the one to take it out anyway. He washes his hands, splashes water on his face so he'll feel less like collapsing into sleep for the next twelve hours, and wets a washcloth.

When he comes back he says, "Roll over, onto your stomach. It'll be more comfortable."

Mark does, but he sees the washcloth and starts to protest. Eduardo shushes him.

"I'm not making you clean up yet," he promises. "Just lay still."

The cloth has to be almost unbearably cold, but when Eduardo drapes it over Mark's red skin he hisses and shifts, settling again when Eduardo curls up next to him.

"You can sleep," Eduardo says. "I'll wake you up in a little while to eat, okay," and Mark does, but not before squirming close enough to get Eduardo to kiss him.

---

Eduardo lets him sleep a little longer than he'd originally planned. Mark looks tired, faint bruising under his eyes, and Eduardo brushes a thumb over one of his cheeks and Mark doesn't even twitch. Eduardo really wishes he'd sleep more.

He knows better than to try to make him, though. Maybe if Mark were a more cooperative person, if he could comprehend how other people could actively worry about his well-being, maybe then Eduardo could tell him he should sleep more. Or maybe if Mark weren't so new to this, maybe Eduardo could work out a deal with him that every time he got eight hours of sleep Eduardo would reward him. Or Eduardo could punish him every time he got less than four.

But none of that is ever going to happen, so Eduardo cuddles Mark close now, while he can, and doesn't wake him up until eight, when his own stomach starts protesting.

"Mark," he says quietly, and fusses with his hair until Mark snuffles against the pillow and forces his eyes open. Eduardo sits up and waits until he is completely awake. When he grumbles, "What," Eduardo asks, "What do you want to eat?"

Mark blinks slowly. "I don't want to go out."

"Order in Chinese?" Eduardo suggests.

"Whatever," Mark says.

Eduardo pulls himself out of bed, stretching, and goes to dig up the menu. He leans against the counter while he orders, and when he hangs up and turns around Mark is sitting there and watching him, half-dressed.

After leaning over and kissing him, Eduardo installs them both onto the couch. Mark complains about everything that they could watch until the Chinese comes. When Eduardo hands over a carton of rice Mark pokes at it disinterestedly.

"What are you doing next week?" Eduardo asks quietly. He's held back, wondering if Mark would think to volunteer the information, but it hasn't come up and now there's only three days until Spring Break.

"Family reunion in Poughkeepsie," Mark says, frowning. "My mother is making me go."

"You are part of your family," Eduardo reminds him, smiling, as he bites back his disappointment.

Mark shrugs, still picking through his food. "I don't like most of my family. Half of them are idiots and the other half are insane." Part of his mouth curls up. "My mother says they're 'eccentric,' and I shouldn't mind them."

"Nobody likes their family," Eduardo says, laughing.

Sticking his feet under Eduardo's leg, Mark says, "But most people don't have twin great aunts. One of them has Alzheimer's and the other has dementia. My older sister likes them," he adds, as an afterthought.

"Why Poughkeepsie?" Eduardo asks.

"Meeting in the middle," Mark says. "Boring Spring Break, though."

"You were just going to code the whole time," Eduardo snorts.

"I was going to stay here with you," Mark corrects. He yawns and then looks at Eduardo curiously. "You are staying here again, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Eduardo says.

Mark nods. "You really hate your family."

Eduardo gapes. "No, I don't!" he protests. "I just don't go home for short breaks. Florida over Spring Break is awful anyway, since most college kids are going there for vacation already."

"Next year we can go somewhere for Spring Break that isn't awful," Mark says. "No family reunions or crowded beaches."

Eduardo grins up at the ceiling. "I can't imagine you as much of a beach type," he says, and Mark makes an unhappy expression.

"I burn," he says dourly, and Eduardo almost knocks them off the couch as he leans over to kiss him.

When Chris knocks on the door it's been four hours and Eduardo has no idea how many prompts. Dustin is looking immensely pleased, and when Chris ducks his head around the corner and asks tentatively how it's going, Dustin grins at him.

Chris smiles back helplessly, and then shoots an embarrassed look at Eduardo.

"Really well. We may actually finish in time to keep the site up to schedule," Dustin says. "I am going to lord this over Mark for years - fuck all his security measures, they don't keep me out."

Eduardo manfully doesn't ask why Dustin requires him, then, and Chris is obviously biting it back, too, if the pained look is anything to go by. Dustin smirks at Eduardo, like he knows what they're thinking.

"Well enough to take a break for a couple of hours?" Chris says. The pinched expression isn't going away. "I just called the hospital and they said there were no developments, but Mark's being allowed visitors now."

"Oh," Dustin says, quiet.

"Let's go," Eduardo says. He doesn't care how terrible it will be to see Mark in a hospital bed for the first time after all of this - if he doesn't agree to go now, Chris and Dustin will feel awkward or try to let him out of it. If they're being honest, they all want to be there.

"We weren't let in before this," Chris says. He's driving them. Dustin is in the front seat - Eduardo had insisted. "We're not family, and only family—" he stops, mouth twisting.

"They're letting us in now," Dustin offers. "It's been less than 48 hours, it's not really all that long to keep us waiting."

Chris sighs. "I know the rules are there for good reason. It's just - Mark's family doesn't even know, besides Randi. She decided not to call them."

"She decided not to tell them?" Eduardo asks incredulously.

Dustin squirms. "I asked her about it, but she freaked out on me. She hasn't answered her phone since."

"That's why I called the hospital directly," Chris said. "They said he hasn't had a visitor in the past day, so she's not there."

"That's odd," Eduardo says. He'd never been overly familiar with Mark's family, but he thought he knew them well enough to predict a different response from them. He has no idea what Randi is thinking - he knows their mother. She'll kill her daughter for not telling her about her son.

The hospital is a smaller one, and it's not very busy. It's almost empty, even though it's barely six o'clock.

"They don't have an emergency room here," Chris murmurs quietly as they walk into the lobby. "It's a branch of a much larger hospital, this place is for non-emergency recovery. Apparently where they keep all the coma patients."

"Ah," Eduardo says, and then Chris is stepping forward to talk to the nurse at the desk.

"Hello, can I help you?" a redheaded lady in her late thirties is asking them, and the nurse at the desk barely glances up as they turn around to look at her.

"Are you here to see Mr. Zuckerberg? I'm Karen, the nurse in charge of his rotation."

"Yes, hello," Chris steps forward, smiling thinly. "You're who I spoke to on the phone?"

"Yes. Mr. Hughes?"

"It's nice to meet you. I appreciate you answering our questions."

"Of course," she smiles, looking them all over impersonally. "If you'd like to see him, follow me."

Mark's all the way down at the end of the hall. Eduardo feels like he's going to his doom, and almost expects the lights to flicker accordingly. Instead, cheerful pictures glare out at them: flowers and abstracts and a couple vaguely historical prints. Dustin fidgets next to him.

Chris steps into the room first and the nurse ushers the rest of them in, telling them, "I'll leave you to see him, then. Hours end at eight, if you feel like staying a while, and just close the door to his room behind yourselves when you leave."

Eduardo nods at her, anything to avoid looking at the bed. Dustin is already moving forward, Chris hovering uncertainly between them.

She leaves.

Seeing Mark is anticlimactic. He's pale, sure, and still, but he was never the most animated sleeper anyway. He's got an improbable number of tubes hooked up to him, but Eduardo figures he can't be in too bad a shape - he's got the oxygen tube but no mask, and there's only faint bruising along the left side of his head, fading back into his hairline. His hair's too long.

"The crash was at low speeds - he got rear-ended on the 101, but it was rush hour and they were only going about thirty. He was wearing his seatbelt and everything, they just say it was bad luck that he hit his head." Chris is standing at Eduardo's elbow, a couple feet back from where Dustin is draped over the edge of the bed and staring morbidly down at Mark.

"And they still don't know why he's in a coma?" Eduardo asks quietly.

"I think we can stop whispering," Dustin says, abruptly loud. "It's not like we'll be disturbing anyone. And hey, maybe if we do disturb him the asshole will wake up."

"Hey," Chris says, stepping forward. Dustin lets himself be pulled sideways, looking away from Mark. "Calm down, Dustin."

"No," Dustin says irritably. "Why are we here? There's nothing we can do. We need to go back and make sure Facebook will be all right."

"Yeah," Eduardo says, "okay. You're right," because Chris was looking like he was going to protest and try to make them talk about their feelings or something. Eduardo considers himself a fairly well-adjusted person, considering, but he does not particularly feel like analyzing his reaction to seeing Mark like this.

Chris looks reluctant, but Dustin starts leaving, practically dragging Chris with him when he won't leave. "Okay, we'll just - give you a couple minutes," he tells Eduardo, confused, and Dustin hauls him out into the hallway.

Eduardo stares at the doorway for a moment before making himself look back over. Mark hasn't changed in the intervening seconds, obviously, and this is probably the least-threatening Eduardo has ever seen him. There's no reason not to move closer.

He does. It's odd that it feels painful more because it feels like an invasion of privacy than because he's still furious with Mark. He shouldn't be seeing Mark like this, not if Mark wouldn't want him to, and several million dollars doesn't override Eduardo's instinct to obey Mark's boundaries.

Still, he steps closer, and Mark's hand is just lying there so he touches the back of it. There's no response, obviously, and he lets his fingers trail over it, up to Mark's wrist and back down.

"You know," Eduardo says quietly, reflectively. "I hope you can hear me right now. I want to tell you how pissed I am. You're freaking Dustin and Chris out, and now you've gotten me talking to you again without ever actually apologizing. It's all really unfair." He frowns. "I don't even know how to feel about your fucking code. I wouldn't be here otherwise, but - what were you doing? Why would you write that in there? It was such a waste of time, and there's no guarantee other people would never see it. And Dustin says you deliberately screwed the code up afterwards."

Eduardo shakes his head and steps back. "When you wake up you have a lot to answer for."

Mark doesn't answer. On the way out of the hospital Eduardo nods to the nurse, who smiles as she passes him on her way down to Mark's room.

"Fuck, that was creepy," Dustin says.

"Let's get the code done," Eduardo says.

Eduardo doesn't even know Mark's back from Poughkeepsie until he opens the door to his room and finds Mark sitting on his bed. He jumps and then sets his bag down, smiling and saying hello. Mark says, "Come here," and drags him into bed.

"How was your trip?" Eduardo asks fuzzily, after, when Mark is finished trying to kill them. "How are the great aunts?"

"Neither of them are dead yet," Mark says dryly, and Eduardo has to try really hard not to laugh so as not to encourage him.

"It's nice to see you again," he says instead of replying.

Mark snorts and scratches at a hickey forming on his neck. "Come on," he says. "Chris wants to meet at some restaurant in downtown Boston when he and Dustin get back."

"We're meeting them there?" Eduardo asks, pushing himself up. "Are they traveling back together, or do they just get in around the same time?" They don't live anywhere near each other.

Mark shrugs and wiggles into his pants, sans underwear. Eduardo still doesn't quite believe his wearing them is anything more than an occasional fluke.

"What time are we meeting them?"

"An hour," Mark says.

Eduardo gets up, going to his closet. He sticks his head in, and then calls out, "What sort of restaurant?"

"It's downtown Boston," Mark repeats, as if he were an idiot.

"Right," Eduardo says. "Not just a bar?"

"Get dressed," Mark says, rolling his eyes. "You're going to wear a suit either way."

Eduardo bites his tongue. It's the last day of break, so he might not, but it's downtown, and yes, he is. Mark looks superior while Eduardo buttons his shirt.

He doesn't look quite so pleased when Eduardo makes them stop in at Kirkland and get Mark into better clothes. He still looks a little too much like sex, and Eduardo throws button downs at him until he relents.

It turns out not to matter much - the compartment they're in is empty, courtesy of every college still being out of session, and they end up getting halfway to having sex before Eduardo sits three seats away from Mark and refuses to look at him in self-defense. Mark glowers viciously and makes him promise to let them do it on the way back, and Eduardo's willpower is just not that strong.

The restaurant isn't that bad. It's some brand new Italian place, but it's large and loud and they aren't out of place - it looks like half the people eating are from BU.

Chris and Dustin are already sitting in a booth near the door, and Chris is flirting with some guy who's hovering nearby. Dustin is watching in fascination.

Mark shoves by him, and Eduardo says, "Excuse me," and smiles, and the guy reluctantly abandons Chris as his friends call him back over.

"Fucking Harvard," Chris says, staring after him wistfully.

Stealing Dustin's menu, Mark says, "What?"

"BU has so many more students," Chris says.

"You should probably stop staring now," Eduardo says.

"So many more people to fuck," Dustin says.

Chris sighs.

Mark scowls. "You go to the best university in the country," he says, "stop mooning over BU."

A waitress comes up, giving Eduardo a menu and Dustin a replacement. She takes drink orders and then moves to the booth right over from them.

"Come on. Harvard isn't perfect," Chris says.

Bristling, Mark says, "Yes, it is."

Eduardo is about to side with Chris when he feels Mark's foot curl over his possessively. He's so surprised that all he can do is smile helplessly down at the table, glancing over at Mark from the corner of his eye. Mark doesn't stop glaring at Chris, even as he leans closer to Eduardo.

Chris watches them for a moment and then says, "Okay, Mark," conceding the point.

---

"Hey, Wardo," Dustin says as Eduardo comes in the door a few days later. "What's up?"

He and Mark are huddled together on the couch. Eduardo eyes them sideways as he sets his bag and coat by the door.

"Nothing," he says suspiciously. "You?"

"Oh, the usual," Dustin says airily. "Just—"

Mark kicks him, and Dustin swears and kicks back, and Eduardo gives them both an odd look and goes to find Chris.

"He's not here!" Dustin calls as Eduardo sticks his head in Chris and Dustin's room. "You should come play."

There's some violent game on the screen, and Eduardo shakes his head. "I've got some stuff to do."

Mark edges around him and shuts the door to his room, and Eduardo raises his eyebrows at Dustin, who grins and gestures him over. Eduardo grabs his textbook and notes and sits next to him on the couch.

"So Mark just spent half an hour trying to blackmail me," Dustin says lightly, unpausing his game.

"With what?" Eduardo asks. He grabs Dustin's backpack and digs through for a pen, since it's closer than his. Dustin doesn't notice.

"He doesn't have anything. He resorted to threats." Dustin makes a terrifying face and yells at something on the TV screen. He loses. "Anyway," he continues, dropping the controller on the table, "you should ask what he wanted."

"What did he want?" Eduardo says dutifully, with more than a little honest curiosity.

"Housing sign ups are open," Dustin says. "And Mark wants you to room with us except he's too pussy to ask you himself. Chris said he should, since he's your closest friend, but Chris thinks Mark can be trained to behave well in public, too." Dustin shakes his head. "So, what do you say?"

Eduardo laughs, disbelieving and ridiculously warm, but he says, "I think I should be talking to Mark."

"Wait!" Dustin hisses, grabbing for him before he can stand up. "Don't tell him I told you. He'll ruin my life!"

"I thought he didn't have anything," Eduardo says dubiously.

Dustin scowls. "He will make something, you know he will. Just tell him I asked you like I promised."

"Okay," Eduardo says soothingly, and takes the other controller when Dustin passes it over.

Mark sneaks back out of his room almost an hour later, and Eduardo pretends not to notice his door open as he stares between Dustin and Eduardo suspiciously. Apparently reassured, he ventures all the way out and stands in the middle of the room, announcing, "I'm hungry."

Dustin makes a crack about having human needs, after all, while Eduardo tries not to grin too widely as he gets up and answers Mark's cry for attention.

They go to the cafeteria because it's closest, and Eduardo spends the whole meal trying to get Mark to bring rooming up. Instead Mark talks determinedly about everything from his classes to the weather, and looks physically pained while doing it. By the time they've returned their dishes Eduardo is almost sympathetic to his misery, though humor is still winning out a little. Mark is so busy trying to make small talk that he accidentally derails into a rant about the student political groups on campus, and doesn't notice they're at Elliot until they're halfway up the stairs to Eduardo's room.

"Oh," he says, and trips over his shoe a little as he catches back up.

"Did you have anything else tonight?" Eduardo asks lowly, unlocking his door, and Mark shakes his head mutely, and shoves the door shut behind them.

Eduardo can be strategic, so he waits to bring it up until after Mark's fucked out and Eduardo is fingering him after.

"You can keep going," Mark says. His voice is soft and slow. Eduardo maybe got a little sidetracked halfway through, and now he's got four fingers pressing gently into Mark, who is humming and holding still for it.

"Hm?" Eduardo drops his head against Mark's shoulder blade.

"You can keep going," Mark repeats. "Fuck me again, if you want."

Eduardo slowly works his fingers out. Amenable or not, Mark's way too exhausted to do anything else tonight. "Not right now," he says, letting Mark feel his smile. "Maybe later."

Mark stretches a little, more a deep breath and resettling than actual movement. "I don't care," he says. "A guy did it once."

Eduardo sits up. "And?" he asks, curious.

Mark shrugs, and turns to look at him, blinking his eyes half-open. "And it was okay. He liked it more than I did. But if you want to," and he shrugs again.

Eduardo kisses Mark's shoulder to distract himself. "No," he says. "I don't care, and I don't want you uncomfortable."

He doesn't want to be something Mark's already done.

Instead he lays his head in the small of Mark's back and says, "Dustin asked me about rooming next year."

Mark holds his breath just long enough for Eduardo to be thankful he's already half asleep, since he has no energy to be evasive.

"What'd he want?" Mark asks, deceptively careless; but his voice has lost its lovely drawl and Eduardo wouldn't believe his disinterest even if Dustin hadn't told him the truth.

"He wanted to know if I wanted to room with you guys next year, since we're all such great friends." Eduardo bites at Mark's spine just for fun, laughing at the phrasing, and Mark even smiles a little.

"What did you tell him?" Mark asks. He's holding his breath again.

"I said I would be living in a single again next year," Eduardo says gently, lifting his head and trying to meet Mark's eyes.

"Oh," Mark says, and rolls away.

"Mark," Eduardo says, grabbing for him. He catches only his elbow, and he can't get Mark to look at him. "My father has certain ideas about what make the best study conditions."

"That's nice," Mark says. "I'm sure Dustin was very disappointed. I have to piss."

Mark stays in the bathroom a long time. When he comes out Eduardo is drifting off, and Mark must think he's already asleep, because he climbs in very carefully and then arranges himself along Eduardo's side, mouth open and wet on Eduardo's neck. Eduardo holds very still so he won't move away.

---

Mark is between projects now. It's a new experience for Eduardo - Mark still sits at his computer more than a normal person, but he also spends more time with everyone - he even lets Chris flail at him about volunteerism and résumé padding once or twice. He goes to class, too, and even studies once in a while when Eduardo brings his own books over and stares at Mark meaningfully. And now whenever Eduardo comes over in the afternoons Mark is usually out in the living room getting his ass kicked by Dustin at video games.

Somehow, that translates to a dedicated competition, and one evening Chris grabs Eduardo, wild-eyed, and hisses, "You are not leaving me here alone."

"What?" Eduardo asks, alarmed, except then he sees the veritable fort of blankets and food and alcohol that Dustin and Mark have stashed in front of the television, apparently in preparation for their battle to the death. "Oh, shit," he says, reflexively, and then Mark snatches Eduardo away with a glare at Chris, while Dustin begins a whispered strategy session with the back of Chris' hunched shoulders.

It's clear from the beginning that Dustin is going to win. They might have meant to even the chances by teaming up with Chris and Eduardo, but Eduardo can't help Mark much at all and Chris seems to be better than both of them anyway. Mark doesn't resent it - much - and after the second round they let Eduardo sit out entirely.

Eduardo considers sneaking into Mark's bedroom to get some studying done, but he's had enough to drink that none of it would stick. Instead he commandeers the couch, sprawling out and watching Dustin kick Mark's ass at the third game of the night.

Mark makes a disgusted noise and throws his controller at Chris. He comes and sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his head back.

"Beer," Chris says, desperately, and Eduardo sighs and heaves himself up to get it. The fridge is almost empty, so he knows what he'll be doing tomorrow, but he brings the last pack and hands them out. Mark has stolen half of the couch, and he won't move even when Eduardo kicks him.

Dustin beats Chris twice in quick succession, crowing each time, and finally they drag out the tequila.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says a couple shots later, patting at Chris' arm. "Once more, I'll go easy on you."

Chris glares, determined. Partway through the first round Dustin starts fidgeting, humming to himself, and Eduardo leans forward and tugs at a piece of his hair.

He turns around, complaining, and Chris kills him.

The next round Mark drops a glass on the floor, spilling water all over Dustin, who stands up, yelping; Chris kills him.

The third time Dustin spends most of his time watching them suspiciously, and Chris beats him without any help at all.

"Fuck you all," Dustin says morosely, staring at the screen.

"They won't do anything the next round," Chris says. "Right?"

Eduardo raises his eyebrows, but Chris actually looks serious, so he nods and elbows Mark until Mark rolls his eyes and agrees. Dustin still looks suspicious.

Mark has given up watching, yawning, and he drops his head against Eduardo's shoulder. Eduardo wiggles until he can scoot down and make Mark more comfortable. Chris looks back at them, smiling a little, and Dustin turns around to look, too, but he stares and says to Mark, "Dude, are you cuddling?" and Chris kills him. Chris, it would appear, is a master at drunken video game playing.

"Fucking fuck," Dustin says, with feeling.

"You're easily distracted," Chris says sweetly.

"Last round," Dustin says, narrowing his eyes. "Winner takes all."

Chris rolls his eyes.

"Easily distracted," Dustin grumbles. He reaches over and pokes at Chris, which garners no response. It doesn't deter him - he starts pinching, instead.

"Ow, Dustin," Chris says pointedly.

Dustin grins and pinches his side again. Chris elbows him in the ribs.

"You're barely even playing the game," Mark says, and hums when Eduardo starts petting his hair.

"Easily fucking distracted," Dustin repeats.

"Obsessive, too," Chris says.

Chris is going to win. Mark is snickering into Eduardo's ear, and Dustin keeps staring around at all of them mistrustfully.

Dustin swears suddenly, lunging forward as he mashes buttons frantically, and he barely escapes Chris' wrath.

"It's a lot easier sober," Chris informs him, sympathetically. "It's okay."

"Fuck you," Dustin says, and grabs him and kisses him.

Chris flails, dropping the controller, and Dustin leans back and slaughters his character. Launching to his feet - and staggering a little before he finds them - Dustin throws his arms up victoriously. "Fuck easily distracted," he says, "I'm better than all of you."

Chris looks shell-shocked.

"You cheated," Eduardo says. He accidentally jostles Mark, who mumbles at him, displeased.

"You are totally cuddling," Dustin says, sidetracked, blinking at them.

"You just made out with Chris," Mark says flatly.

"It was a kiss!" Dustin says, indignant. "One kiss! For tactical advantage! You're just sore losers." Eduardo laughs, and Mark looks bored and unimpressed. Dustin huffs. "I'm going to bed."

He retreats, but Chris is still on the floor, staring after him.

Mark abruptly sits up, watching Chris. "You want to fuck Dustin," he says, with an air of a great discovery.

Chris turns suddenly, magnificently red. "Jesus, Mark, say that a little louder! And no, shut up."

"You do," Mark insists, and starts to smile, slow and spreading and like he's going to be a little bitch about it.

"No, Mark, shut up," Chris says, and stands up.

"You could tell him," Mark says. He looks contemplative. "Dustin might be adventurous enough. He's definitely easy enough."

"Mark," Chris says, quiet and harsh, "sometimes sex is about feelings." He retreats to the bedroom with a little less flair than usual, since he has to fumble the doorknob open.

"Are you twelve?" Mark snorts at his back.

"Mark," Eduardo says quietly.

"They're idiots," Mark says, and then shoves at Eduardo until he lies down and lets Mark pass out on top of him.

"Okay, come on," Chris says, knocking on the doorframe. "It's almost midnight, you've gotten a lot done. We need to get to sleep sometime tonight."

Eduardo recognizes the tilt to Dustin's chin - it was the same as Mark's when Eduardo told him it was time to power off the computer, and no, not for sex - for food or bathing or class. Chris recognizes it too - he says, "Dustin, one more," and turns on his heel and walks away before Dustin can argue.

Taking the hint, Eduardo says, "He's my ride," almost apologetically, and Dustin huffs but brings up the next one.

Summer?

"Phones," Eduardo says, because that one is easy.

Mark doesn't talk to Eduardo the first week of break.

They'd survived finals, though for a bit there'd been concern about Chris and whether they needed to find a dealer for some anti-anxiety meds. He and Eduardo had both pulled all As, and even Mark had passed all his classes, despite not studying one whit. Chris had glared at him balefully every time he expressed his supreme unconcern. Eduardo had smiled and said, "See, going to class pays off."

Mark had rolled his eyes.

They'd pushed it as far back as they could, but Eduardo's father was getting impatient for him to get home and Mark had a job at some tech support place waiting for him, so when the dorms closed they had to say goodbye. Dustin had left almost before finals were over, and Chris had joked it felt awkward to be the third wheel and taken off a day after. Eduardo loved having Mark to himself in the quiet of the suite, sleeping at odd hours and fucking at even odder ones, and Mark had seemed bemused but weirdly complacent when Eduardo wanted to coddle him all day.

So Eduardo leaves for Miami, making Mark drop him off at the airport, and kissing him firmly on the mouth before he left. He extracts a promise that Mark will call him as soon as he gets settled back at home, and then kisses him once more for good measure. Mark holds still while he sucks extra hard at the lingering hickey on his collarbone, and then Eduardo grabs his bags and goes into the terminal.

But Mark doesn't call.

Eduardo doesn't take it personally. He wasn't really expecting responses to the messages he sends. He texts as stress relief mostly, talks about how his mother has more grey hairs and seems inordinately proud of them, brags on his grandmother's cooking, and does his best to pretend he has no father at all.

Three days after he gets home he's got enough free time to escape to the clubs. He gets a couple smiles from the people who he knows, some of the ones who got to watch him grow up, and he gets a drink at the bar without having to flash his fake ID. Then he runs into an old acquaintance and has considerably more to drink; his friend is not kind enough to confiscate his phone.

The texts Mark gets that night are possibly a little less appropriate than the other ones. Eduardo doesn't even mean anything by them, not really, but he's feeling romantic. It's close to soliloquizing; embarrassing reflections on things like inner peace and then an abrupt transition to orgasms.

The next morning he reads them through, and cringes a lot, and triple-checks that Mark is the only one he sent them to, and then he sends Sorry for the drunk texts last night. He should definitely not let himself near his phone when he's been out with Andre.

Almost instantly Mark replies You have terrible grammar when drunk, and that's the last Eduardo hears from him for the weekend.

By Monday Eduardo is fed up.

It takes three calls before Mark answers. When he does finally pick up Eduardo is a little surprised. "'lo?" he says, around a mouthful of some sort of food that requires a lot of slurping.

"Como via?" Eduardo says. "Eu te disse para me chamar."

Mark pauses. Eduardo wishes he could see him, could watch his face as he ticks through what's going on. "Wardo?" he asks. He actually sounds doubtful, and Eduardo, frankly, finds that irritating. Just how many people does he have calling him up and speaking in unknown languages?

"Sim. Quem mais seria?"

"Wardo." Mark sounds more certain now. "What are you saying?"

"Não penso que estou indo lhe dizer," Eduardo says, and it's a little cruel but he's always wanted to know how Mark would react if he had no idea what Eduardo was saying.

"I don't know what's going on," Mark says snappishly.

"Sei. Quero escutá-tu tentas entender." Eduardo listens to Mark breathe for a few moments. It's an odd rhythm, almost like Mark is upset.

Then he says, "Eduardo," quietly, and Eduardo holds his breath. "Is this a game? Am I supposed to figure something out? I don't know what you want."

Eduardo sighs out. He loves how Mark sounds when he gets quiet and focused, and yes, horrible as it may be, a little upset. As far as Eduardo has ever heard, he's the only one Mark will ever sound like this for. "What if I kept speaking Portuguese?" Eduardo asks.

Mark breathes in sharply. "I would've hung up."

"No, you wouldn't," Eduardo counters.

"I would've found a way to translate it," Mark says. "I could learn it."

"You should," Eduardo says softly. "It's a beautiful language."

They breathe for a minute, and Eduardo almost laughs when he pays attention and realizes Mark is trying to match them up.

"Mark," he finally says.

"Hm?" Mark answers, after too long a pause. It's his not-paying-attention noise.

Eduardo whistles into the phone.

Mark yelps, and there's an awful loud clattering sound as he drops the phone, and then he must pick it back up because he says, "Fuck, Wardo!"

Eduardo laughs, and then keeps laughing, and finally subsides into snorts when Mark threatens for the third time to hang up on him. "I was getting your attention," he says innocently.

Mark huffs at him.

"What have you been doing?" Eduardo asks. He tilts back in his chair, smiling up at his ceiling.

"Coding," Mark says predictably.

"Boring," Eduardo says, just to get a rise out of him.

"Only if you're too stupid to understand it," Mark replies. Eduardo can see his hackles coming up from two thousand miles away.

"I suppose I am, then," Eduardo says equitably. "Do you want to know what I've been doing?"

Mark says, "Sure," which of course means that he's already tuning Eduardo back out, but Eduardo smiles affectionately and talks about Miami in the summer. Everything from the weather to the slang is different, and Eduardo never misses home until he comes back.

"It's so hot," he says, for probably the third time, but it's a necessary emphasis - he doesn't want to move out from under his ceiling fan, because he's still trying to readjust. It was still almost cold in Massachusetts, which is a foreign idea to Florida.

Mark doesn't even bother to make a noise in response. Eduardo can hear his typing, all the way back up to full speed and taking the majority of his attention.

"Chris is pleased, though," Eduardo says. "I'm in t-shirts and swim trunks, and he doesn't believe me. I'm considering sending pictures as proof."

"That's ridiculous," Mark says.

"Why?" Eduardo asks, laughing.

"Chris doesn't need pictures of you. The fuck does it matter what clothes you're wearing?" Mark snorts. "Unless you're making some shitty attempt at phone sex, it doesn't."

"Is that a hint?" Eduardo says, mostly teasing.

Mark says, disgusted, "It's just jerking off."

"It's really not," Eduardo says honestly.

"And you know?" Mark says snippily.

Eduardo laughs, and lets Mark hang up on him.

---

It wasn't a sudden decision. It crept up on him slowly over the next couple of weeks, where Mark got better about answering the phone when Eduardo called but never bothered to be the one to call.

"Hey," Eduardo says quietly, when he's run out of things to tell himself. "Mark, I have to go."

Mark hums, and there's a too-long pause, and Eduardo can still hear typing, faintly.

Eduardo probably never would've done anything except think about it, in an abstract, turned-on sort of way, except Mark hasn't spoken more than ten words to him today, and he won't tell Eduardo when best to call to gain his attention, and Eduardo is vaguely pissed off and decides, though nothing will probably come of it, that it doesn't hurt to try.

"I'll talk to you soon," he says. "And Mark?"

"What?" Mark says.

"Don't jerk off until we talk again."

Mark breathes out loudly. "Fine."

"Goodbye," Eduardo says.

Mark still manages to hang up first.

---

Of course, that meant Eduardo actually had to force himself not to call. He doesn't text or email, either, since he doesn't trust Mark not to play fast and loose with the definition of "talk."

He doesn't have a job this summer. The only internships on offer were ones close enough to his father that he couldn't be sure he'd actually earned them, or be clear of rumors of nepotism. He's been working online instead, fiddling with algorithms for the stock market. His father gives him a disappointed look, but Eduardo bites his tongue and holds firm, and his mother pats his hand. It leaves him too much time to wish Mark would fucking call, already, because Eduardo can't set up a test like this and then be the first to break.

He refuses to consider the idea that Mark may have just ignored his instructions. Mark hates to fail, and he probably isn't going to start now.

Eduardo is, despite whatever his mother says, not moping in front of the television Wednesday evening when his phone goes off. He's left it in the other room, because he's not quite expecting Mark to call anymore, and he has to scramble to get it in time.

His mother laughs at him, and he frowns at her, heartbroken, as he retreats upstairs.

"Hello," he answers.

"You fucker," Mark says.

Eduardo raises his eyebrows. "How are you?"

"Ugh," Mark says, with maximum expression, and Eduardo falls back onto his bed and grins so hard at the ceiling his eyes almost shut.

"Not feeling well?" he asks sympathetically, when he can be sure to control his tone.

"Stop gloating," Mark says. "Do you know what I was doing? I was watching porn, because Dustin keeps fucking spamming me with it. And I've been watching porn all week and you fucking don't call."

"So you listened?" Eduardo asks, because there's still the tiny nudge of doubt.

Mark makes a sound like he's spitting over the phone.

Eduardo loses the battle and starts laughing.

"I fail to see how this is funny," Mark says tightly, sharply.

"Oh, no," Eduardo says. "I'm not laughing at you."

"Really," Mark says, flat.

"Mark," Eduardo says.

"I'm going to jerk off now," Mark says.

"Good to know," Eduardo says, clearing his throat. "Do you want to know what I'm wearing?"

He's mostly teasing, but Mark swears lowly. Eduardo wonders if he's already touching himself, and wishes the ambient sounds on the phone were clear enough to tell.

"Are you naked?" he asks Mark instead.

"No," Mark says. There's a moment where Eduardo hears a muffled thump, and then Mark's voice is louder, closer, like the phone is pressed right up against his mouth. "Are you?" he asks, reluctantly, as if Eduardo's dragged it out of him.

Eduardo takes a deep breath and sets his hand on his stomach. He's getting hard.

"No," he says, and wishes he were, if only to hear Mark's reaction.

Mark breathes in harshly, and then he says, "Fine, you win. Talk to me."

"I'm wearing sweatpants and an undershirt," Eduardo says. "I didn't feel like getting dressed this morning."

"You just went around all day like that?" Mark asks, and then hisses.

"Yes," Eduardo says, but, distracted, asks, "What are you doing?"

"Getting off," Mark says, with as much derision as he can muster when he has his dick in his hand.

"No," Eduardo says patiently, and gives up and slides his hand into his pants. "I mean how are you getting off?"

"I'm jerking off," Mark repeats, sounding very irritated now.

Eduardo rolls his eyes and gives up. "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing?"

Mark pauses, and Eduardo only realizes the quiet rustling, shifting noises were there when they aren't anymore. "You're not—" Mark says.

"No," Eduardo lies, and drags part of his pillow over his face so Mark won't catch him out. "I haven't been waiting all week," he says. "I'm not nearly as desperate as you." He has to bite his lip to control a gasp, though, so close to giving himself away as he drags his fingers too roughly over the head.

"You're a bastard," Mark says, groaning.

"I think about you when I do, though," Eduardo says. He can hear Mark come.

Mark says something after, but Eduardo hums at him brokenly and buries the phone under the covers while he finishes himself off.

Mark is saying his name crossly when Eduardo gets the phone back to his ear. He grabs the tissues from his nightstand and cleans up, imagining Mark wiping his hand across the sheets like the filthy creature he is.

"Sorry," Eduardo says, "connection issues." Then he says, "Well?" and trusts Mark to know what he means.

Mark says, reluctant, "Phone sex isn't quite like masturbation."

"I win," Eduardo says, letting his head sag back.

Mark makes a huffing noise. "But I'm not doing this again," he says, sounding cranky again.

Eduardo isn't overly concerned at his mood, just makes a lazy questioning sound.

"You tell me not to get off and then you ignore me for over a week. What exactly was your goal?" Mark continues.

"I answered when you called," Eduardo says. "That's not ignoring you."

For a minute he isn't sure Mark will get it; then Mark fails to disappoint and says, "I didn't know you wanted me to call. You didn't tell me to, and you might've considered it cheating if I called you first and you just wanted me to wait. You should have told me."

"I told you at the beginning of break to call and you never did," Eduardo says gently. "But I am sorry. I didn't mean to confuse you."

"I thought you honestly wanted to make me miserable for a week," Mark grumps.

Eduardo sighs, and resettles his head on the pillow. "I never want to make you miserable."

Mark doesn't answer, but he stays on as his breathing goes slow and soft.

"Don't forget to hang up the phone," Eduardo says, but Mark doesn't answer. Eduardo falls asleep with the line still connected, just in case Mark wakes up again.

The first prompt the next morning, because the world hates everyone, is Threesome?

Eduardo feels the universe should be a bit kinder today. His hotel had shit coffee, the crap here was even worse, and Chris hadn't come by early enough for them to stop anywhere before Dustin set an autodial on two of the office phones so their cells rang constantly and nagged them to get there faster.

Frankly, Eduardo's surprised that Mark is apparently glossing over the entire beginning of their sophomore year, from the first time Eduardo met Billy - and having to adjust to the fact that Mark had an actual roommate now - to Dustin's girlfriend. Eduardo would have said she, at least, was a pretty important person, as far as cause and effect goes at least. He wonders how Mark chose these passwords, if there was strict criteria or if he just slapped things down. Eduardo knows better, really - Mark never does anything haphazardly.

But the question is not going away. And Dustin did not have to go without coffee this morning.

"Whoa," Dustin says, looking torn between amusement and awe. "Uh."

"Ugh," says Eduardo.

"Are you together?" the guy - boy, Eduardo would bet anything he got into the bar on an extremely good fake - asks, cocking his head and grinning at them.

"Uh," Eduardo says, trying to figure out how to politely tell him that nobody here is interested in jailbait.

This isn't supposed to happen - someone isn't supposed to try to pick one of them up when they've just gotten back from summer vacation. Eduardo would prefer there wasn't anyone else within a hundred feet, actually, because he's fighting off the really inconvenient urge to drape himself over Mark and chew on him.

"We might be," Mark says, looking at the boy from the corner of his eye. He was staring off at something along the wall.

"Interested?" the boy says, cocking his hip.

Mark turns to face him fully and says, "That would depend."

The boy grins.

Eduardo feels like he's been hit. Something must show, because the boy gets a weird expression on his face. "Yeah," Eduardo says, and his voice rasps in his throat.

"Okay," the kid says slowly, and then gives them a hesitant smile and backs away.

Fuck.

Eduardo wants to grab a room, shove Mark into it and ask how, exactly, it would be okay to fuck around after six months of a fucking relationship. Except Mark doesn't do relationships, he's probably never had more than a one nightstand, and obviously he doesn't know they're supposed to be past that point.

"I think I want to get out of here," Eduardo says. Mark jerks around to look at him, but Eduardo keeps his face perfectly smooth, smiling slightly.

Mark nods, apparently indifferent, and follows Eduardo out.

Mark is perfectly content to stay in Eduardo's bed the rest of the night, but it doesn't make the discontent in Eduardo's stomach go away.

---

Two nights later Chris is fuming in the living room when Eduardo comes in. He's got a six-pack beside him, unopened, and he's glaring intently at the TV screen.

Eduardo slides to the floor next to him. "Dustin?"

"He told me he could imagine marrying her," Chris says, still watching the infomercial unblinkingly. "And then he asked me if I'd be best man at their wedding."

"Was he drunk?" Eduardo asks, after a pause. Dustin is very much the type to plan weddings when drunk.

"No," Chris says.

Eduardo sits in silent sympathy with him until the next commercial starts, when Chris sighs and puts the TV on mute. "I'm overreacting."

Eduardo shifts to face him. "Honestly? Yes. They've been dating less than three months, and they're very different. Dustin is just acting ridiculous. He was like this last time."

"Yeah," Chris says. He looks entirely unconvinced.

"You need to go out," Eduardo says. "Let's go to a club tomorrow."

"You mean I need to get laid," Chris snorts. "No, thanks. I would like to mope a while longer."

Eduardo opens the case of beer.

---

Mark doesn't get back from the labs until early morning, and he is passed out at his desk when Eduardo wakes up, hung over, for Stats. Eduardo still isn't feeling particularly charitable towards him, so he leaves him there to wake up stiff and sore.

Chris is more important than Eduardo's hurt feelings, so Eduardo skips his last class and heads back to the suite to keep Chris company. He finds Mark just woken and still bleary-eyed, but Eduardo ignores him to the best of his ability - which is to say, not at all, and he ends up playing audience while Mark talks and gesticulates violently about some asshole or another who dared disagree with him about something.

Chris doesn't come back that evening until Dustin has come and gone, breezing in and out to head to Boston to see Susanna; Eduardo isn't naïve enough to think Chris' absence was an accident.

Eduardo had extracted a promise from Mark to help keep Chris company, but had to add on a clause about being nice.

"Not everyone handles unrequited crushes well," Eduardo had said, and Mark replied, "It's not difficult," which simultaneously made Eduardo very curious and unbearably jealous.

Eduardo pesters Chris to make dinner, since he can cook if properly motivated, and they take plates of pasta and an entire box of shitty wine to the living room. They sit on the couch, and Mark makes protesting noises as he gets shoved to the side. Eduardo isn't fast enough to veto Chris' choice in movies - he puts on a dumb comedy, the kind only he likes.

Eduardo suffers through half of it, Mark's head digging into his shoulder, before he starts trying to distract Chris. It starts off with questions about class and wanders into sex territory, as things inevitably do when alcohol's involved. The film plays unheeded while they start playing a half-assed drinking game. It doesn't work well with wine, and they give up. Mark reaches over and takes Eduardo's glass, emptying it and making a face. That doesn't stop him from taking Chris' also.

"Hey," Chris protests mildly. He's smiling loosely, and Eduardo is tentatively labeling tonight a success.

"Why are you so interested in Dustin?" Mark asks.

Chris says, defensive, "Why do you like Eduardo?"

Mark shakes his head. "But you're not sleeping with Dustin."

Eduardo raises his eyebrows and considers being offended. He discards the idea as too much effort; it's not as if he hadn't already discovered Mark's views on this.

Chris looks at Eduardo pityingly and says, "Why do you put up with him?"

Eduardo drops his head against the back of the couch and studies the ceiling thoughtfully. "He has a good mouth."

Chris snorts, and Eduardo turns to smile at him, but Mark grabs his face and kisses him.

Next to them, Chris sucks in a breath. Eduardo grabs the back of Mark's neck and pulls him closer. He tastes stale like bad wine.

Mark pulls back and looks at Chris. "I do."

Chris clears his throat. "Right. I think I should—"

Mark kisses him, next.

Eduardo watches Mark lick into Chris' mouth, fuzzily surprised. Chris is frozen, hands hovering by Mark's sides.

Mark breaks away too soon, frowning at Eduardo from where he's sprawled over his lap to reach Chris. "You're in the way," he says.

Eduardo laughs. "My apologies. You could move over there."

He meant to point out there was another side of the couch, but Mark straddles Chris instead. Eduardo blinks, amused, and Chris looks over at him, panicking.

"I don't think—" he starts, but Mark kisses him again.

Fascinated, Eduardo touches the back of Chris' neck. "Go with it," he says.

Chris groans, finally kissing back, and Mark settles into him.

"You should touch him," Eduardo says quietly.

Chris does, hesitantly, hand brushing over Mark's shoulder before settling light at the back of his head, holding him close.

Mark finally pulls away, looking smug when Chris has trouble getting his breathing under control. Eduardo rubs his thumb behind Chris' ear. Chris clears his throat, turning his head to the side and away from Eduardo's hand. "Point proven. You can get off now."

Mark looks at Eduardo. Eduardo looks back.

"Good idea," Eduardo says, and taps Chris' shoulder. "Mark has a better one."

Jerking to look at him, Chris stalls when Mark puts his hands on the couch, bracketing Chris' head. He stares at Mark, looking trapped.

Feeling sorry for him, because Mark can be unexpectedly intimidating like this, Eduardo says, "If you don't want—"

"Of course he does," Mark says.

Chris closes his eyes, flushing. "I don't want to get between—"

"We started it," Mark interrupts, with the clear tone of don't be stupid.

"Yes, but is this really—?"

"Do you not want to get laid?" Mark asks, rolling his eyes.

"Stop interrupting," Eduardo says.

He's being a pussy," Mark says. "He's—"

"Shut up, Mark," Eduardo says. Mark's mouth shuts so quickly he stops mid-word.

Chris stares between them, wide-eyed.

"If you want us," Eduardo says to Chris, gently. "Just if you want."

Chris breathes slowly. Eduardo smiles at him.

"Yeah," Chris says.

Mark breathes out, impatient, but he doesn't speak.

"Okay," Eduardo says.

"What—" Chris starts, looking uncertain.

Eduardo kisses him this time, warm and still distantly familiar. "Let me?" he asks, against Chris' mouth, and Chris nods.

"I think Mark still has something to prove," Eduardo says, forcing himself away. Chris looks confused; the corner of Mark's mouth curls up. Eduardo looks at Mark. "On your knees."

Mark drops and shoves Chris' legs apart. Chris gapes down at him, and his hand finds Eduardo's leg.

"Lift your hips," Eduardo says, and then kisses Chris again while Mark undoes his pants. He can tell when Mark gets his mouth on Chris - Chris moans, and his hands clutch.

Eduardo eases away enough to say, "You should touch him. He likes taking direction."

Mark flicks his eyes over, annoyed. Eduardo touches his head, trailing fingers down to the corner of his mouth.

Chris' hand settles, feather light, in Mark's hair. Mark, for all his irritation, hums approvingly. Hissing, Chris' fingers tighten in Mark's hair, but he doesn't pull. He never pulls.

Eduardo kisses his mouth briefly again and down to his neck, sucking a mark in and wondering if Dustin will notice.

He doubts it.

Chris moans, and Eduardo says, "Stop teasing, Mark."

Shaking his head, strained, Chris says, "He's really not."

"He really is," Eduardo counters, and shakes his head at Mark. Mark slits his eyes open and peers up, and then he tilts his head back and takes Chris deeper.

"Oh, fuck," Chris says faintly, and drops his head back.

Eduardo laughs quietly.

Mark looks up at him, eyes warm and focused. Chris is squirming and desperate next to him and Mark is on the floor, and Eduardo is feeling warm and fond and wants desperately to fuck both of them.

Chris' hips keep pushing up, aborted movements, and Eduardo says, "He's close."

Mark doesn't respond, but Chris groans and nods. He blinks down at Mark, still disbelieving. "He'll swallow," Eduardo tells Chris, mostly for Mark's benefit. He watches Mark, but his eyes are closed; he still doesn't react. But Chris moans, and he actually does thrust further into Mark's mouth.

Mark's eyes open, flashing dark at Eduardo. Chris says Eduardo's name quietly, then Mark's, even more so, and Eduardo kisses him while he comes.

Mark sits back on his heels, licking his lips and looking smug. Eduardo hauls him up, kissing Chris' taste out of his mouth. He palms Mark's cock through his pants. "Can you get me off, too?"

Leaning away to look at Eduardo, Mark sucks his lip into his mouth and nods. Eduardo slides his hand into Mark's pants and grabs him, stroking lightly. He leans forward and whispers in Mark's ear, "Can you get Chris off again tonight? I'll let you come if you do."

Mark stays frozen for a moment, ticking over it, and then he nods sharply.

"Let's go to Chris' room," Eduardo suggests loudly, pushing Mark off him gently.

"What?" Chris asks.

"Mark's bed is filthy," Eduardo says, "but we should probably get off the couch."

"Go," Eduardo tells Mark, who looks grudging and frustrated but goes.

"This is okay?" Chris blurts out, flushing again.

"I hope so," Eduardo says, grinning helplessly. "It's insane."

"So, Mark really—" Chris stops, making a questioning face.

Eduardo shrugs. "It's a thing."

Mark's sitting on the edge of the bed and drumming his fingers impatiently. He stops when Eduardo stands in front of him. He's naked.

"Help us get undressed," Eduardo says lowly, and Mark does.

They're well practiced with Eduardo's clothes, but their hands fumble when Eduardo tries to help with Chris. The whole time, Chris slowly leans into them.

He's almost twitching by the time he's naked, and between he and Mark, he's more nervous, so Eduardo kisses him first.

Chris pushes him back onto the bed, leaning over him, and Eduardo kisses him harder every time he tries to stop.

Twisting his head to the side, panting as Mark's fingers wrap around his cock, Eduardo tries to ignore the smile Chris presses into his skin and the way Mark's eyes sharpen as he watches them.

Mark knows what Eduardo likes now, and he's a manipulative asshole who has no compunctions about using it. They fit together, and when Mark sucks him down Eduardo pulls on his hair, touches his neck and his cheek until Mark takes him all the way in.

Chris makes a low noise, watching, and Eduardo tries to talk and gives up two syllables in.

He comes embarrassingly quickly, since Mark is using everything he has and Chris keeps making these sounds. It's awful.

When he picks his head up off Chris' shoulder Mark leans up, offering his mouth. Eduardo kisses him, fleetingly, because then Mark's focused back on Chris, who's fisting his cock lazily. Mark reaches up and helps, tangling his fingers through Chris' and squeezing.

"I'd blow you again but my jaw's sore," Mark says, matter-of-fact, and he licks his lip for emphasis.

Eduardo lets out an involuntary noise. Mark looks over, smirking. Chris swears under his breath, twisting his hand.

Dropping onto the floor with Mark, Eduardo kneels behind him. He props his chin on Mark's shoulder and sets his hands on Mark's thighs, watching Chris' cock and feeling Mark go tense all down his front.

"Yeah, you're a little more desperate than you're acting," Eduardo says to Mark, and then smiles at Chris when he stares down at them fuzzy-eyed.

Mark makes quiet noises as Eduardo bites him, and pushes back when Eduardo starts to move away. Eduardo pinches his thigh, a small, sharp twist, and Mark stays where he is.

Eduardo leans up and kisses Chris' slack mouth, and says, "Since Mark's too lazy—" before licking over the head of Chris' cock.

Chris groans at the same time Mark does. "Not really necessary at this point," Chris says tightly.

Eduardo licks between Mark's fingers and looks over to see Mark's eyes wide and desperate. His other hand is hovering about three inches from his cock, but he's waiting.

Chris groans again, more loudly, and Eduardo takes him in and sucks until he comes. Panting, Chris swats both of them away. "No facials?" he teases, but his voice is wrecked and Eduardo licks his cock one last time to watch him jerk.

"Not this time," Eduardo says. He smiles up at Chris. "Mark came on me once, though."

"Yeah, but then you—" Mark cuts off abruptly, embarrassed. Eduardo grins over at him, delighted, wondering if he really considered sharing that with Chris.

"What?" Chris asks, looking between them.

"Come here," Eduardo says, and wraps his hand around Mark.

Mark whines before gritting his teeth, and he drops his head forward, screwing his eyes shut. Chris is watching, and Eduardo leans forward, kisses his neck and murmurs, "But you liked getting spanked."

Mark shudders, leaning into him.

"Do you want to come? I'm not sure it counts if I helped you get him off," Eduardo starts, but Mark shakes every time his fingers twist over the head and Eduardo is terrible at denying him things. Mark comes all over Eduardo's hand and the floor, and then sprawls limply into him.

Eduardo makes a face up at Chris and Chris makes a face back and hands him tissues. They clean up, and Eduardo hauls Mark up and sends him to his own room, and then he hesitates before kissing Chris softly one more time.

"Did we really just do that?" Chris says, slow and bemused, as Eduardo follows Mark.

"Insane," Eduardo repeats, staring back at him, and Chris nods fervently.

"Hey," Chris says, before Eduardo shuts the door between the rooms. He clears his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah?" Eduardo asks quietly. Mark is laying on the bed and watching him lazily.

"About earlier," Chris says, "about Dustin."

"Yeah," Eduardo says.

"Don't tell him. Please don't let Mark tell him." Chris is solemn, and looks frightened, though Eduardo can guarantee that however bad he thinks it would be, Dustin would react hundreds of times better.

"We won't," Eduardo says, and takes a deep breath.

Chris breathes out, sagging, and says, "Promise."

"Of course." Eduardo waits, but Chris just lies down and closes his eyes. Eduardo shuts the door quietly and goes to Mark.

"Um," Eduardo says.

Dustin laughs. "Dude, I'm pretty sure you should remember this."

"No, it—" but Eduardo just shakes his head.

Chris swallows hard and says, "My name."

Dustin freezes, and doesn't look away from Eduardo when he asks, "What?"

"The password is my name," Chris says. "Unless?" He looks at Eduardo.

Eduardo makes himself nod, trying not to cringe.

"You two?" Dustin asks, almost a squeak. "You three?" He shakes his head. "No way."

"Type it in," Chris says, "and put us all out of our misery."

"But - you three?" Dustin says again, helplessly.

"Type it in, Dustin," Chris says, sounding frantic.

Dustin stares at him, fingers moving over the keyboard sightlessly.

It takes.

—

By lunchtime they're almost to the end of the second file of code. It was pretty easy, vague questions after that - Eduardo had a moment of trouble remembering which of his old ties was Mark's favorite, but then he remembered the gagging that one time, and okay. Dustin still hasn't stopped staring at Chris. Chris, on the other hand, isn't looking at anyone. He jumps about three feet when Laurel knocks on the door, and then says, "I have paperwork to take care of," and darts past her.

"We'll be going out again today," Dustin tells Laurel, and Eduardo follows him with a sick sense of dread. Laurel isn't stupid enough to follow.

They end up at McDonald's, which has the benefits of being anonymous and loud enough that people probably won't notice much if Dustin starts yelling.

He doesn't talk, though. He stares down at the tray of food, hands in his lap and looking miserable. Eduardo can't eat either, and he finally says, "Dustin."

Dustin shakes his head. "Don't talk about it."

"Dustin," Eduardo persists. "We didn't want you to know."

"Yeah," Dustin snaps, eyes snapping up. "I got that. Thanks for the vote of confidence, you guys."

"It wasn't - Dustin," Eduardo says. "It wasn't like that. You have to know that, all right?"

"I was the only one who didn't know you and Mark were fucking for almost two years, and Chris knew because he was occasionally fucking both of you. What was it like?" Dustin's mouth tightens. "Seriously. Don't talk. I don't want to hear it."

"Chris figured it out on his own," Eduardo says, and talks over Dustin's unhappy noise. "He figured it out on his own while he and I were sleeping together. Maybe before."

"You two?" Dustin yelps, and then says, "I don't know why that surprises me. You know he was in love with you, right?" Eduardo shakes his head. "He was," Dustin insists. "I had to listen to him moon over you for months."

"He had a crush," Eduardo corrects quietly. That may not be entirely true - Chris had been weirdly devoted for a pretty long time. But it wasn't like it was between Mark and Eduardo. It wasn't like it is between Chris and Dustin.

Dustin doesn't realize that, though. Eduardo has never regretted his promise to Chris more.

"Fuck you all," Dustin says quietly. "I'm done with this. I'm getting the fucking code done and then I'm never talking to any of you again."

"Okay," Eduardo says quietly. "Do you want to go back?" Neither of them has eaten anything.

The temperature drops into fall earlier than usual, taking a turn to cloudy days and chilly breezes, and everyone bundles into sneakers and jeans and coats. Except Mark, who, it turns out, didn't even remember to bring anything.

"He didn't bring anything last year either," Dustin mentions, offhand, and Billy laughs.

"That explains a lot," Eduardo says, and calls, "Mark?"

"What?" Mark says.

"We need to go buy you winter clothes."

Dustin and Billy turn around on the couch, staring at him with similar expressions of horror. The idea of volunteering to take Mark shopping is rather horrifying, actually, but Eduardo has braced himself.

"No, we don't," Mark says flatly.

Eduardo sighs. "You can't spend all winter in—"

"I'll have my mother ship it to me," he says.

"Good enough," Eduardo says. "Make sure you email her today, Mark, there's a cold front coming through this weekend."

When he asks the next day, just to check, Mark rolls his eyes and says he did, and Eduardo drops it.

The weekend comes and goes, though, and it's in the fifties Sunday night when Eduardo comes up, looks at Mark consideringly, and then calls, "Hey, you've got a notice for a package. It's probably the clothes from your mother."

"It can't be, I didn't—" and then Mark looks over at him and says, "Oh, fuck you."

"Mark," Eduardo says, upset.

"I went all last year with hoodies and jeans," Mark argues. "I don't need warmer clothes."

"Fine," Eduardo says, narrowing his eyes. "Then come to dinner with me."

Mark sighs but stands up.

Eduardo takes them to the diner all the way across campus. Mark's in another t-shirt and jeans, this time, so it's not as bad as it could be, but he keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets while they walk.

Inside the diner he orders coffee, which is weird because he doesn't even like it. Eduardo looks at him.

Mark looks back, and takes a deliberate sip. He's clutching the mug with both hands.

"How do you feel about ice cream for dessert?" Eduardo asks lightly.

"I just felt like having coffee," Mark says defensively, and holds the cup closer.

The wind has picked up on their way back, and Mark hunches his shoulders and keeps his head ducked. Eduardo, warm in his coat, long-sleeved shirt and close-toed shoes, and holding a to-go cup of coffee, says, "Christ, Mark!"

"I'm fine," Mark says.

"You're stubborn," Eduardo retorts, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. He sets the coffee against Mark's upper arm, so some of the heat will seep through. Mark leans into him.

At the steps to Kirkland Eduardo stops and turns Mark to face him and says, "You do need warmer clothes. It's not even winter yet and you're cold."

"I ignore it," Mark says.

"Prove it, then," Eduardo says. Mark frowns at him, puzzled. "If you can stay out here for another ten minutes I won't bother you again." Eduardo sits on the second lowest step, holding up his watch deliberately and watching Mark.

Mark shakes himself and then crosses his arms. He doesn't move otherwise.

About four minutes in, Mark starts to shiver. Eduardo bites his tongue and waits, but Mark hasn't spoken or moved yet. Another minute and a half goes by, and finally Eduardo stands up and says, "Look at yourself! You're freezing. Wouldn't it be easier to just buy one jacket?"

Holding his arms closer in, Mark says, "It's not as bad when I'm walking. I don't make a habit of just waiting outside."

Eduardo wants to shake him. "Fine, walking. We'll walk for the next five minutes."

They walk down the street, and Mark stops shivering after a couple of minutes. He says, "See?" triumphantly.

"Yes, congratulations," Eduardo says, rolling his eyes, "you're not actively getting frostbite."

The ten minutes run out and they head back. Mark is still hunched over, and Eduardo sighs and touches the back of his neck. Mark's skin is cool to the touch, smooth, and Eduardo keeps his hand there. Mark shivers a little every time Eduardo readjusts his grip.

He lets go reluctantly, switching hands with the coffee cup, and places that against Mark's neck instead. Mark shivers again, harder.

"You really are freezing," Eduardo says, much more quietly.

"I only notice when you touch me, because you're warmer," Mark says.

Eduardo switches hands again and slides his palm up the back of Mark's shirt. Mark jerks, a little, and shudders hard, and Eduardo says, "Hey, stop," and pulls Mark around the corner of the steps.

Mark makes a grumpy noise.

Eduardo turns him and shoves the cup of coffee into his hands. "I want to touch you," he says, and slides his hands under Mark's shirt.

The skin on Mark's belly is cool, though not as bad as his neck, and Eduardo runs his palms up and down Mark's ribs, feeling the goose bumps smooth away as he warms the skin.

Mark shivers occasionally, sudden little jerks. Eduardo pulls edges of his shirt up, letting the air hit the warmed skin, and Mark swears and grabs instinctively for the hem to tug it down.

"Don't," Eduardo says quietly, and Mark clutches the coffee cup to him and hunches, immobile.

Eduardo steps closer to him, rubbing up and down his back under the shirt, feeling Mark warm for him again, and Mark leans into him. Eduardo hisses when Mark's nose presses against his throat, freezing.

Eduardo takes the coffee from him and holds the back of his head, letting the coffee rest warm on his back and kissing him. Mark's mouth is hot, at least, and he kisses back eagerly. His hands go to Eduardo's sides automatically, under his coat, and then he wraps closer, until he's pressed all the way against Eduardo's front.

"It's nice to be warm, isn't it?" Eduardo mumbles against his mouth, and Mark hums back before he catches up and twists away, scowling.

Eduardo shakes his head fondly and says, "Come on, let's go inside."

The coffee is only lukewarm now, but when Mark sits at his desk Eduardo sits on the corner and looks down at him, taking slow sips. Eduardo can't say or do anything further, since all three roommates are back, but he doesn't need to.

"Fine," Mark grumps, scowling. "I'll buy a jacket."

They go out the next afternoon, and he ends up getting a parka and several long-sleeved shirts and an actual coat, with a collar and buttons and everything. Mark takes one look at it and says he'll look ridiculous, but Eduardo buys it for him anyway.

When they get back to the dorms it turns out that Mark snuck a fleece jacket in with the other things, and when Eduardo holds it up in question, Mark says, "If I have to look ridiculous wearing that coat you have to wear the hoodie."

Eduardo agrees, because it seems like the path of least resistance.

Mark never wears the coat. The hoodie becomes one of Eduardo's favorites.

"So if you and Mark were fucking why didn't you room with us?" Dustin asks abruptly, startling Eduardo. It's been a steady rhythm of Dustin's typing, Eduardo's answer for the next prompt that comes up, and then more typing.

"My parents never would have agreed," Eduardo says.

"You could have paid for yourself at that point," Dustin says doubtfully. "Why didn't you just ignore them?"

Eduardo shrugs, and shifts uncomfortably.

"And another thing," Dustin says. "The hell was up with—"

Two days before Dustin's girlfriend dumps him, she brings Erica over.

Dustin catches Eduardo as he gets in. Eduardo smiles a little awkwardly at Billy - he's still not quite used to there being a fifth person in the suite. Billy nods at him and wanders into the bathroom.

"I am an awesome matchmaker," Dustin hisses, and tugs Eduardo into the corner.

"Oh?" Eduardo says, but cranes his head toward Mark's room, where he can hear Mark, voice raised in excitement.

"Susanna's roommate," Dustin says. "Her name's Erica. I think Mark's in love."

"Oh," Eduardo says flatly, but smiles thinly when Dustin looks at him quizzically.

"Don't worry," Dustin says. "I think she can totally handle Mark."

---

The worst part, of course, is that Dustin is right on both accounts. Eduardo can't even hate her - she is nice, and smart, and handles Mark's shit with the type of attitude that even Eduardo sometimes envies. She likes Eduardo, too, and when Mark expects them both to just be around, Eduardo ends up talking to her. She has opinions on things, and holds actual reciprocal conversations in the way Mark has yet to embrace.

She never questions who Eduardo is, or why he's always over, and Eduardo would appreciate that if only because of the relief to his dignity.

A week and a half after she first came over, though, Chris finds Eduardo in the library and says, "So what the fuck?"

"Sorry?" Eduardo says, looking up and blinking at him.

Chris pulls the chair opposite out with a screech and drops into it. He gets dirty looks for the noise, which he ignores.

"Who is Erica?" Chris asks, and then repeats the question in a vicious hiss when Eduardo and a girl nearby hushes him.

"Dustin's ex-girlfriend's roommate," Eduardo answers promptly, and tries to rebury his head in the textbook.

Chris' hand shoves the book down. "You know what I mean."

"No," Eduardo says evenly. "I don't."

"Then maybe you can tell me why I found she and Mark halfway to fucking on his bed," Chris says, and glowers.

Eduardo can't help the breath he sucks in, but he stares right over Chris' shoulder and says, "Because they were probably halfway to fucking. I hope you didn't interrupt too much." He means, of course, that he hopes Chris got indignant at Mark and kicked Erica out of the suite.

"Eduardo," Chris says, and he sounds helplessly confused.

Eduardo stares down at the table and says, after a pause, "Mark likes her."

"So," Chris says, "that's it?"

Shaking his head, Eduardo finally meets Chris' eyes. "I don't know."

Chris looks outraged.

"Mark and I aren't dating," Eduardo says gently, and grabs Chris' wrist as he starts flailing his hands around.

"But—" Chris says, and then repeats it a couple of times to really get his objections across.

"We're not," Eduardo repeats.

"The fuck you aren't," Chris says finally, indignant.

Eduardo smiles thinly.

"You're really going along with this?" Chris asks. He pulls his hand from Eduardo's grasp.

"I want Mark to be happy," Eduardo says.

"You're an idiot," Chris says. He stands up. "So is Mark."

---

Mark doesn't see it that way.

Dustin gets confused, and then Mark does, too, and they both come to Eduardo and ask why Chris is suddenly not speaking to anyone.

"He's just worried about something," Eduardo says vaguely, which appeases Mark and is enough to get Dustin to just shrug and tread lightly.

He never really forgives any of them, but fall fades slowly to winter and Mark starts formally dating Erica - there are attempts at dressing nice, even - and he loses steam and grudgingly associates with all of them again.

Billy, it turns out, is more socially adept than anyone bar Chris, and he starts giving everyone a wide berth whenever they're all in the same room.

Eduardo, once Chris fizzles to a slow burn, spends as much time with him as he does with Mark. Mark doesn't really have noticeably less time for him to be around - it just turns out that, when they're not busy sneaking off to have sex every available moment, there's less for them to do together; Eduardo finds himself getting bored.

Mark takes the unvoiced cease in their not-relationship with as much grace and aplomb as expected - he's entirely oblivious for about two weeks, spends another two working up impatience and annoyance, and then emails Eduardo to resolve everything.

Eduardo sends,

I will not have sex with you while you have a girlfriend.

And that's that.

"Mark liked her more than he liked me," Eduardo says, then shakes his head. "Mark just actually liked her. I was convenient, and helpful, and the sex was great, but Erica was the girlfriend he was looking for."

"That's bullshit," Dustin says flatly. "Did you two ever actually talk to each other or what?"

"No," Eduardo says, and smiles. "We tried to avoid that. It never really worked for us."

At the beginning of October Eduardo walks in on Erica riding Mark. He doesn't see much, but he sees enough. Mark's on his back and has his fingers laced through Erica's. He's asking to be held down, and she's just nuzzling him and purring. It makes Eduardo burn with impotent anger and the abrupt onset of jealousy, and he doesn't go back to the suite until the next weekend.

Even then he doesn't mean to. He's been meeting up with Chris elsewhere on campus, and Chris has given up all attempts at relationship coaching, beyond the occasional barb about refusing to feeling guilty for the threesome (though Eduardo has told him that has nothing to do with Erica) and, when he thinks Eduardo needs cheering up, complaints about giving Eduardo up for no good reason and to a no-good person. Eduardo always smiles and changes the subject.

Dustin even tags along sometimes, because at this point everyone has seen Mark having sex, and Dustin is taking a while to recover from the ill-fated summer romance that was Susanna.

One evening Chris volunteers to go with Dustin to a party, because, though they're all pretty done with the drunken crowds thing now, Chris is tired of seeing Dustin sad and, in lieu of attempting to step in himself (as Eduardo suggests) he has fallen upon Dustin's old standby strategy of finding some willing, half-drunken body.

Eduardo suspects Chris is going to try to hook Dustin up with guys, just to get an idea as to whether he'll go for it. It's an exercise in futility - Dustin still has that hilarious, immature fixation on cleavage - and wouldn't help anyway, since Chris really only wants to know if Dustin would go for Chris, and that's a different exercise entirely.

But Eduardo goes with them to the party. He really sort of wants to watch drunken Dustin's pick ups, because it's always amusing and a little adorable, and he thinks Chris could use the moral support besides.

It isn't a bad idea until he gets there. They arrive late enough that the slight stench of vomit is already hiding under the smell of sweat and perfume clouding the air, and Eduardo has no intentions of drinking and therefore no hope of entertainment for the next four hours.

Chris meets someone, of course, because Chris always meets someone, and Dustin hangs on Chris like a particularly annoying boyfriend until Chris' chances have been ruined, and, being Dustin, does the entire thing unawares, and when Chris only smiles at Dustin, fondly annoyed, Eduardo decides they're all royally fucked and sets about getting laid. He, like Chris, has never had much trouble.

---

Eduardo is not overly proud of the phase that follows.

He's never been a very promiscuous person; he feels cheap too easily.

This doesn't stop him from going out the next night and finding someone to sleep with. And the night after.

Sunday night Chris starts giving him sideways looks, so Eduardo says he has a date with the guy from the night before - which makes Chris smile, hesitantly optimistic, and garners no reaction from Mark at all - and then hops the train to Rhode Island.

He avoids the Megaplex and finds a BU hangout. The boy looks a lot like Dustin, weirdly, which Eduardo winces about but ultimately decides to deal with, and he's more than eager to take Eduardo back to his room. He even kicks his roommate out, hushing him frantically, which makes Eduardo laugh - freshman are so cute when they're insecure.

Eduardo has to leave right after, of course, because of said roommate, and he feels slightly dirty when he figures out that it's entirely possible that boy might have been three years younger than he, and not even legal.

He wasn't a virgin, though, which shouldn't make Eduardo feel better but absolutely does.

Chris looks disappointed for him when Eduardo says the date went badly, but Eduardo shrugs off his feigned disappointment in a couple of days and then repeats the whole process the next weekend.

Saturday, though, he doesn't have enough willpower to stay away from the Megaplex. He goes late, and he sticks close to the wall when he's in, watching.

The universe hates him, he promptly decides, because twenty minutes after he arrives, and ten minutes before he's promised himself he'll give up and leave, Mark shows up at the edge of the room, looking the way he does when he's five minutes from snoring after getting off.

He sees Eduardo, of course, because Eduardo is still right by the fucking doors, and Mark's leaving.

"You're here," he says.

"So are you," Eduardo replies, continuing the theme of repeating the obvious, and then shakes his head. "You're fucking cheating on her."

"I'm not," Mark says, looking surprised. "She isn't into this."

"You're having sex with someone besides her," Eduardo says. "That's cheating."

"I'm not doing something with someone else that I would potentially be doing with her," Mark counters, looking superior. "I'm not depriving her of anything."

"That's not what cheating fucking is," Eduardo hisses, and then blanches.

"Are we talking about Erica?" Mark says, eyes narrowing.

"Shut up, Mark," Eduardo says.

"Make me," Mark says, tilting his head back and smiling, teasing.

"You just—" Eduardo starts, incredulous, but Mark interrupts and says, "It's not as good as it is with you," and he fucking means it, just like that, and Eduardo pulls him forward and kisses him.

Eduardo has never claimed to be a strong person.

He bites Mark's lip too hard, because it's already red and swollen and he wants some part in that.

"Can you come again," he says into Mark's ear, and shoves Mark away.

"Yes," Mark says, staring at him.

"Come on," Eduardo says, and takes him into the back room.

They don't get any looks back there - making out isn't nearly so fun to watch when there's a couple in a sex swing ten feet in the other direction.

Eduardo leans back into a corner and pulls Mark against him, dragging Mark up against his thigh. "Like this," he says, and kisses Mark again.

Mark rubs against him, slowly, and Eduardo tugs gently at his hair and licks his ear to annoy him.

"What," Mark says, and pushes half-heartedly at Eduardo's hands, digging into his shoulders and keeping him in place. "What do you want me to do."

Licking his neck, Eduardo finds a faint bruise on his shoulder. It's wasn't deliberately placed, and he's pretty sure he's accurate in thinking it's shaped like Erica's mouth. He leans down and bites over it, hard.

Mark yelps, scrabbling at his sides, and a couple of people look over at them, half-interested.

"Quieter, or people will watch you come," Eduardo says, and pulls Mark tighter against him.

"You want me to rub off on you?" Mark says, slow to catch up but with enough attitude left to be skeptical.

"Good observation," Eduardo says sarcastically, and grabs his hips to haul him up.

Mark yelps again, more quietly, and says, "But—"

"Shut up," Eduardo repeats by rote. "I want you to come in your pants and then go home like that."

"Uh," Mark says, but he's biting his lip and focused on grinding down. His hand keeps twitching down, like he wants to palm himself.

"You don't deserve anything better," Eduardo says, and bites him again. "You're a lying, cheating asshole who's not worth the trouble it takes to touch you."

Mark whimpers, and Eduardo has a split-second of awful, sickening doubt, if he's gone too far or reminded Mark of too much, but Mark buries his head in Eduardo's neck and clutches at his shirt, fingernails catching on skin even through the fabric.

"You know that," Eduardo says. "Who fucked you earlier? Were you this easy for them? Are you going to go home and kiss your girlfriend with the mouth that sucked them off? Will you even brush your goddamn teeth?" Whining again, Mark mouths at Eduardo's neck. Eduardo pulls him away with a hand in his hair. "Don't you dare. I don't want you on me."

Mark breathes out against him, noisily, and comes shaking.

Eduardo has to catch him, pulling him closer when he slumps. "Hey," Eduardo says, and then directly into his ear, "hey."

Mark lifts his head wildly, dragging his eyes open and searching Eduardo's face. "'S okay," he mumbles. "You don't have to feel pointlessly guilty. You're hot when you're pretending to be mean."

Eduardo swallows hard and kisses Mark again, thumbing his lip, and thanks every bit of karma he's ever earned that Mark doesn't realize he means it all.

Of course, after falling off the wagon it's easier to just stay off. He doesn't bother pretending to tell Mark no again.

Chris gives him another dirty look, just once, but he's apparently tired of trying to keep up or instill normal morality into either of them, so he pretends to be as ignorant as Dustin just as soon as Eduardo laughs humorlessly and says, "I know. It's okay. I've already resigned myself to being utterly ashamed of this part of my life."

Chris comes in and drags them bodily out of the building a little after six.

Dustin protests as much as he can, considering he still doesn't want to actually speak to Chris.

Instead of home, though, Chris forces them into a cab and takes them to a club just far enough south of the Stanford campus that it's not all students.

"I don't want to be here," Dustin hisses at Eduardo, once Chris has gone up to get them drinks and Dustin has given up on staring down at the table balefully. "The fuck are we doing?"

Eduardo shrugs, and gives Dustin a clueless look when he glares.

"Because if we stay at the office any longer we'll go insane," Chris says, dropping glasses of something green and noxious in front of them.

"Speak for yourself," Dustin shoots back.

"You're being childish," Chris says tightly.

"Fuck you," Dustin says, and Eduardo escapes as quickly as he can.

The press of bodies is hot and stifling, and he finds his way to the bathroom, splashing water on his face. He doesn't really want to be here either, though he agrees with Chris that they're imploding.

He stays in the bathroom long enough that he starts getting odd looks from people, and when the second very drunken couple comes to lock themselves in a stall, hands everywhere, he makes a face at himself in the mirror and gets out before they can get to it.

Dustin and Chris are still at the table, arguing. Dustin's leaning all the way over, waving his hands around and looking ready to strangle Chris. Chris doesn't look much better.

Eduardo dances, a little, switches partners a couple of times, just enough that he'll look busy should Dustin or Chris look over. There's one girl, though, she's a good dancer - too good for Eduardo - and she keeps coming back and pressing up against him, hands flitting over his shoulders.

"You want to go somewhere?" she asks, after the fourth song, and presses her mouth to his jaw.

He touches the small of her back, feels the sweat pooling there through her shirt, and says, "No, I'm sorry. I'm not here to hook up."

"I had high hopes for you," she says, frowning, but she shakes her head and waves him off when he tries to apologize.

Then he looks around for Dustin and Chris, because the table is empty. He can't find them, and he pushes through the crowds until he reaches the edges of the room, away from the packed floor and the mass of people crowding the bar.

He hears Dustin before he sees them; Dustin is yelling loudly enough even other people are giving him frightened looks, and Chris is frantically trying to hush him, probably before security gets set on them.

"No, don't—" Dustin snaps, and Chris rolls his eyes and grabs his arm and shakes him and says, "It had nothing to do with you."

Dustin freezes, staring, betrayed, and Chris looks apologetic but doesn't take it back.

Eduardo holds his breath and stays pressed against the wall, hoping they won't notice him.

"It did," Dustin says. "Whatever you think."

Chris shakes his head, and Dustin grabs him and kisses him clumsily.

Flailing, Chris tumbles into an empty booth, breaking away from Dustin, and Dustin grabs for him again, and Eduardo backs away as subtly as he can.

He watches them, for the next couple of minutes, but Chris gives a half-hearted attempt at scanning the crowd for him before he follows Dustin out, hands clinging.

---

Eduardo goes back to the offices.

Dustin left the computer on, and Eduardo knows the passwords he uses, and it's not hard to click into the code. It brings up the next prompt as soon as he hits return, and then Eduardo sits back in the ridiculously plush chair and stares at the ceiling.

Mark and Erica have a fight. Eduardo hears them yelling when he lets himself into the suite.

Erica darts past him, eyes on the floor, and Eduardo looks at the open door to Mark and Billy's room before deciding that, no, he doesn't feel like playing relationship coach.

He boots up the Xbox instead.

Mark comes out before he's halfway through the opening level, and he sits heavily next to Eduardo, leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees, and says, "She's a bitch."

"She's not," Eduardo says. "You fought. She probably thinks worse about you right now."

"And she'd be right, you mean?" Mark says. Eduardo keeps his mouth shut. "At least I'm honest."

Eduardo sighs. "What did you say?"

"She was complaining about one of her friends." Mark twists his mouth to the side. "It's not my fault her friend is hotter than she is."

"Oh, Mark," Eduardo says, before he can stop himself, and Mark leans against his shoulder and stays quiet for the next hour.

Chris gets back and looks at them quizzically, ignoring Mark's scowl the way he ignores everything else about Mark. He sits in the chair, dragging a binder out of his bag, and Mark says, "You could study in the library. That is what it's for."

"I'm sorry, Mark," Chris says calmly. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Don't take it out on Chris," Eduardo says, and passes over the video game controller.

Mark mashes buttons aimlessly, still scowling, and then Dustin and Billy come in, arguing loudly and happily about something from one of their classes, and Mark says, "I want to go to your room."

Eduardo looks at him from the corner of his eye, ignoring Chris' raised eyebrow - probably ashamed of Mark's lack of subtlety - and Dustin's taunts.

Mark leaves before Eduardo can even get his shoes back on, and Eduardo almost has to run to catch up.

"Slow down," Eduardo says, catching his shoulder. "Calm down. It's okay."

"I am calm," Mark says, shrugging him off. He's really not - they get to Eduardo's room and he yanks at the doorknob, making a pissed off sound when it turns out to be locked. Then he glowers at it until Eduardo gets it open.

When he sprawls down on Eduardo's bed he goes limp and unmoving, face buried in between the pillows.

"Okay," Eduardo says, and sits next to him gingerly.

Mark mumbles at him, something low and vicious.

"People fight all the time," Eduardo tries.

"I don't care about the stupid argument," Mark says, turning his head so Eduardo will hear the words clearly.

Eduardo touches between his shoulders, hesitant, but Mark doesn't brush him off so he smoothes his hand up and down his back, feeling the tension.

"We don't fight," Mark says.

Eduardo settles his hand at the back of Mark's neck, digging his fingers in and pressing at the knot that always forms at the junction of Mark's neck and shoulder. "We don't," Eduardo says, and keeps his opinions about what that says about their relationship to himself.

Mark breathes out, finally, and starts to actually relax. His breath goes slower and deeper, until he no longer sounds like he jogged all the way across campus. He's still got this weird energy strung under his skin, like he's just waiting for something to do. "Can we—" he starts, and stretches before rolling over. "I want you to hurt me."

Looking at him, Eduardo starts to shake his head. He changes his mind, though, and says, "What do you mean?"

"When you spanked me, you said," Mark says, dropping silent in the middle of the sentence as if that's all he needs to say.

"We can try," Eduardo says, and stands up, shaking himself. It's not a good time; he's tired and sort of aching from watching Mark rationalize away every emotional reaction, but for once he thinks Mark might be right - with all that extra energy winding through him, Mark will be an absolute asshole to everyone if he doesn't process somehow.

He pulls the wooden box out from the back of his closet, setting it on his dresser and flipping the catch. Mark crawls to the top of the bed, peering in, and Eduardo says, "No. Get undressed."

Mark looks disappointed but he leans away, stripping off hoodie and shirt and then kicking off his pants. They end up on the floor on the other side of the bed. He looks at Eduardo expectantly, and Eduardo sighs and sets the box on the bed instead, so Mark can dig through it.

He does, more slowly and patiently than Eduardo would've expected. "Have you used all of this?" he says, and runs his thumb over the buttons on the base of the vibrator.

"Most of it," Eduardo says, tone carefully neutral.

Mark starts laying things out on the bed, organizing them for classification purposes. Eduardo almost wants to smile when Mark lines the three paddles up next to each other, handling them as if they're utterly foreign and possibly dangerous.

"There's not very much in here," he says.

It wasn't a question, not exactly, so Eduardo doesn't answer.

"You said you had a crop," Mark says. "You didn't say you had a flogger." He has the tails spread over his left palm.

"You've done your homework," Eduardo says lightly.

"I've seen porn," Mark says. He sets it up with the paddles.

Mark surveys the rows again, touching the two sets of clamps and the vibrator and the two different types of straps, which are lying next to the soft rope. He's familiar with one set, and he lets his fingers wrap around them absently as he looks between the empty box and the supplies.

"Not much more would fit in the box, of course," Mark says. "So you either have more somewhere else or you don't have much."

"This isn't enough for you?" Eduardo asks, bemused.

Mark dangles the pair of handcuffs in front of Eduardo's face. "I don't think you bought most of this."

"No?" Eduardo asks, smiling.

"They have purple fur," Mark says, and then drops them on the floor in an elaborate display of disgust.

Eduardo laughs and says, "Most of it was given to me."

Mark nods, and starts dumping things back in the box. He leaves the paddles and rope out; the blindfold is the first to go back. He does touch the gag, though, lingering, and then he says, "You bought this."

"Yes," Eduardo says, careful not to sound surprised. He doesn't ask how Mark knows.

Mark looks at him and says, sardonic, "I have some idea of your taste by now."

"I guess," Eduardo says, and shrugs. The movement feels too deliberate, too false.

"You bought two of the paddles, too," Mark says. "And both sets of ties and the rope."

He's right, of course. Eduardo just watches him.

"I expected you to have more sex toys," Mark says. "The traditional kind."

Eduardo smiles again, looking down into the box. "I do like those, yes."

"You give them to the people you fuck," Mark guesses, and his voice actually goes up at the end. "Don't you? Even if you buy them, you don't keep them."

There's a lot Eduardo could say - there's hygienic considerations, and storage space limitations, and also the fact that the average person is a lot more likely to have that type of normal sex toy to begin with, so maybe his partners have always provided them - but Mark wouldn't believe any of it. Eduardo says, "Yes."

"I want to go buy some," Mark says, and looks at him evenly.

Eduardo nods.

"Which one?" Mark says, and touches them lightly. He's already dropped the flogger, which Eduardo would've preferred, back in the box.

"You choose," Eduardo says. Mark's hand hovers in the air, because he has no idea why he's supposed to choose or how, but he finally picks one of the paddles at random and holds it out to Eduardo.

Eduardo snaps the lid shut and puts the box back on the dresser. He sets the other paddles on top, just in case. Mark shoves the pillows to the floor, and when he kneels it's obvious he's half-hard.

Stripping, Eduardo pulls on a loose t-shirt and leaves his boxers. Mark's still in the middle of the bed, watching him, when he turns back around.

Eduardo levels him with a look. "On your stomach, come on."

Mark straightens out, and Eduardo says, "Tell me if you need me to stop. Otherwise I'll stop when I think you're done."

Mark nods.

Eduardo picks up the paddle. Mark jumps when it touches his shoulders, and Eduardo keeps smoothing it over his back and sides and down his legs, keeps touching him with it until his eyes don't so much as flicker when he feels the smooth leather on his skin.

Then Eduardo sets it down and hits Mark with his hand.

Mark opens his eyes, craning to look around.

"I'm not starting with that," Eduardo says. "This is a warm up."

"Why?" Mark asks.

Eduardo snorts. "It hurts less."

"I want it to hurt," Mark says.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Eduardo says. He picks the paddle up and swats him with it lightly to demonstrate.

Mark hisses quietly and repeats, "I want it to hurt."

Eduardo sighs, sitting back on his heel and dropping the paddle. He rubs his eyes. "Mark, I'm not doing this as some sort of punishment for your fight with Erica. I refuse to have anything to do with your relationship with her. If you want to be punished you'll have to talk to her about it."

Mark makes a noise like a growl and drops his head, staring at his hands. "This has nothing to do with her. I just want you to hurt me. Please."

Eduardo swears at Mark under his breath, and says, "Fine." He takes a couple of deep breaths before he picks the paddle back up.

He starts lightly again, smacks paced slowly. Mark makes soft sounds a couple of times, and his eyes close, but he's mostly still.

Eduardo hits him harder.

The muscles all down Mark's spine move as he tenses, and he gasps quietly, and grinds down onto the bed. Eduardo sucks in a breath and hits him again.

Mark's entire ass is red by the time Eduardo sets the paddle down, and Eduardo skims his hand down Mark's back to feel his skin, hot. Mark groans, and opens his eyes. "Please," he says, and Eduardo says, "I'm not stopping yet." Then he digs his fingers in and watches the skin turn white, while Mark groans again and pushes back into his hand.

"How much do you get off on this?" Eduardo asks quietly, and picks up the paddle again.

Mark sighs out and opens his mouth and doesn't say anything.

Eduardo hits him again, much harder, and Mark cries out. Eduardo watches him carefully but his face is still twisted in the way it gets when Eduardo has been fingering him for a very long time. He has bunched part of the comforter in one hand. Eduardo hits him again.

He stops when Mark is making tiny noises when he breathes, and he's wiggling every time Eduardo hits him. "Mark?" he asks quietly.

"Hm," Mark says, and wiggles again.

Eduardo reaches up and grabs the wooden paddle instead. It's a lot heavier, and Mark yelps when he brings it down, and Eduardo rubs his back while he pants after.

Eduardo is careful not to let the edge of the second smack touch the first. Mark cries out again, and tries to twist away for the first time. Eduardo catches his hip, holding him still, and leans down to kiss his shoulder. There's already a faint hint of bruising from the first impression, an edging of purple. Eduardo brings the paddle down again, and then again, and Mark lets a noise out like a sob, and squeezes his eyes shut, and goes entirely liquid.

Eduardo reaches up and sets the paddle on top of the box. He touches the side of Mark's face, until his eyes blink open, and then he leans down and kisses him softly, over and over until Mark rolls over and reaches up for him.

Mark purrs, soft and tired, and Eduardo stretches out over him, pressing their hips together and holding Mark's arms above his head while he kisses him. Mark comes quickly, quietly, and keeps Eduardo pressed close until long after he's stopped shaking.

When they're yawning more than kissing Eduardo gently disentangles, pulling Mark half on top of him instead. Mark is already almost completely asleep and he doesn't even acknowledge the movement.

Eduardo naps, too, though it takes him a while to doze off, and when he wakes up Mark is present again and looking down at him consideringly.

"What?" Eduardo says, and can't help smiling. The sleep helped; he doesn't feel disconnected and half-furious anymore, and sort of wishes he'd properly appreciated the clingy kissing.

"You're not a sadist," Mark informs him.

"Yes, I know?" Eduardo says, but it comes out a question. He tilts his head.

Mark tilts his head, too, mirroring him, probably unconsciously, and Eduardo laughs.

"I'm a masochist," Mark says, and stares at Eduardo with narrowed eyes.

"I know that, too," Eduardo says. "I sort of figured it out."

"This was different than last time," Mark says, and Eduardo sighs and pushes Mark off of him.

Sitting up, he ignores the way Mark's eyelids dip when he settles back onto sore skin, and he says, "I don't like causing pain for the sake of it." Mark looks alarmed, and he adds quickly, "I don't mind doing it for someone who does like it."

"But you don't get off on it," Mark says. Eduardo shrugs. "You got off last time."

Eduardo shifts uncomfortably. "The context was a little different."

Mark looks at him for a moment longer, still thinking, and then he starts to smile. "You got off on punishing me."

"I like the power exchange more, yes," Eduardo says, glaring.

Mark smiles wider. "So if I'd told you I was asking for it as punishment for being rude to Erica, you would've liked it more?"

"Mark," Eduardo complains, but Mark starts laughing quietly and leans over to bury his head in Eduardo's lap. "You are rude," Eduardo says, and pets Mark's head. "Do you hear me making fun of you for liking to be called nasty things?"

Mark is still laughing a little, but he says, "I'm not making fun of you," and he means it, and Eduardo sighs and pets some more.

---

Erica forgives Mark; he never apologizes, but she thinks he has.

Eduardo smiles at her when she next comes over, because Mark is ignoring her in favor of a CS project. She takes it as an invitation and sits next to him, peering at his notes.

"Oh, one of my friends is taking this, I think," she says. "Is it difficult?"

"It's not too bad," Eduardo says, but she looks at him expectantly so he smothers a sigh and puts everything back in his bag.

"How are you?" he asks, dutifully.

"I'm good," she says, smiling brightly. "Had a quiz this morning that I studied all night for, so I'm exhausted. There's also this upcoming charity thing that I'm doing with some of my friends who're trying to get volunteer hours. It's just so much planning."

And then Eduardo has to ask, of course, what charity activity and for what cause, and then he has to ask if she's done it before, and then listen to her entire high school history of activism. It'd be interesting if he didn't have a midterm to study for.

Chris comes in just as she starts talking about what classes her friends are taking, and which major she thinks is easiest, and Chris raises his eyebrows behind her back. Eduardo gestures for Mark as subtly as he can.

"Mark," Chris says, and grabs his earphones off. "Come on, you're neglecting your girlfriend."

"I don't mind," Erica says, laughing. "Eduardo makes a good substitute."

"Eduardo makes a better substitute," Mark corrects, but lets Chris push him toward the couch.

Erica laughs again. "At least you acknowledge it."

Mark shrugs.

"Actually," Erica says, and looks at Eduardo. "You'd make a great boyfriend. You're listening even when you don't have an obligation to. Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

Chris chokes from behind her, and then excuses himself. Erica, because she is somewhat clever, looks at him and then at Eduardo, where he's sitting still, careful not to look at Mark, and she says, "Is this a bad subject?"

"No, it's fine," Eduardo says, and Mark says, "He doesn't date girls."

"I date girls sometimes," Eduardo corrects mildly, and Mark scowls fiercely at him.

"Okay," Erica says slowly, furrowing her brow. "Well, I definitely think you should date someone. I can introduce you to some of my friends!"

"He should," Mark says sarcastically. "Then we could double date."

"Uh," Eduardo says, and decides to ignore Mark's helpful input. Erica glares at Mark over her shoulder. "That's really okay. I'm not interested in seeing anyone right now."

She quirks her mouth to the side. "Bad break up?" she asks, sympathetic.

"Something like that," Eduardo says, smiling, and asks her about one of her professors.

She drags Mark out, finally, on the date that she'd originally been promised, and Chris sticks his head out to make sure it's all clear.

"You didn't have to react like that," Eduardo says. "She's going to think something's wrong with you."

"Let's watch a movie," Chris says, determinedly oblivious.

Mark gets back halfway through the second half of Titanic, and he gives the television one disdainful look and then grabs Eduardo to pull him into his room.

"Everything okay?" Eduardo asks obliquely.

"It was fine," Mark says. "I didn't really want to do anything with her today, but she said we had to because she's busy the rest of the week. I told her I was busy, and then she got angry I wanted to go early."

"Yeah, that's how compromising around conflicting schedules works," Eduardo says. "Sometimes it's a loss."

Mark shrugs. He sits in his desk chair, but he spins around to face Eduardo.

"What?" Eduardo asks, half-smiling, and Mark digs a toe into the floor and twists back and forth.

"Mark," Eduardo says. "What are you doing?"

"She's right," Mark says. "You should have a girlfriend."

"I don't want a girlfriend," Eduardo says slowly.

Mark looks at him blankly. "Then a boyfriend." He waves a hand jerkily. "Whatever."

"I don't want a boyfriend either," Eduardo says, even more hesitantly. "It's not as if I have a whole lot of free time. Where would I even meet someone?"

"On campus." Mark shrugs. "Around."

"Why do you care who I date?" Eduardo says, suspicious, but Mark looks angry and says, "Never mind."

Laurel wakes Eduardo up the next morning. She startles him, actually, touching his shoulder, and he jumps and twists away, almost knocking the laptop off the table.

"Uh, good morning," she says.

"Hi," Eduardo says, and winces.

"You worked all night?" she asks, and pokes at the computer.

Eduardo shuts it. He's not interested in being subtle. She doesn't need to see whatever is still up on screen. "No," he says, and yawns. "I've been asleep a while."

"You're stressed," she says sympathetically, and rubs his shoulder. "You should come get breakfast with me."

She takes him to some crappy diner, but it's dirty enough that nobody looks at him oddly for how terrible he must look.

"Thanks for waking me up," he says, after he's drunk two cups of coffee and scalded his tongue.

"No problem," she says. "I normally come in early because I leave early for classes, and it's more peaceful before everyone else gets in."

Eduardo nods.

"How is it going?" she asks. "I really haven't wanted to interrupt, because you three have looked frightening the last couple of days. Are you almost done?"

"I think so," Eduardo says, and sighs. "Of course, we might get through and find out there's something else entirely still to do. Mark always had a habit of doing that shit to people."

She smiles down at her eggs.

"Oh, sorry," Eduardo says belatedly. "I probably shouldn't be that blunt about your boss."

"I've thought worse," she says dryly. "I've said worse."

"So if you don't mind me asking," Eduardo says, "but what have you been doing? With Mark out of commission, how, uh—"

"How do I have a job?" She shrugs. "Mostly I've been working on rearranging his schedule to clear it and then keeping it clear. It's insane how disorganized things can be, and since Chris doesn't want to just tell the world that Mark is in the hospital, I have to make up excuse after excuse to explain why he won't be seeing this project manager or that vice president."

"That sounds difficult," Eduardo says sympathetically.

"It's still easier than dealing with Mark on a day to day basis," she says reflectively. "I mean, it's boring. But my job is pretty boring even when he is here - there's just more fetching and carrying, and keeping him from wandering off places where Chris or Dustin won't be able to find him if he has commitments."

Eduardo laughs quietly. "Yeah."

"This place has awful food," she says, and drops her fork to the side.

"This place has awful everything," Eduardo says, in the spirit of honesty.

"I'm never taking recommendations on pancakes from someone who grew up in Thailand ever again."

Eduardo pays, and they walk slowly back to the offices. There's some morning traffic now, as it gets closer to eight and people start heading to work. But there's still a quiet air to the atmosphere, and it makes Eduardo say, "Can I ask you a question?"

"How do I put up with Mark," she says.

"No," Eduardo says. "How is he? I mean before the accident."

She looks surprised. "He's pretty good. He has his moments where he's horrible, of course, but I think he's pretty happy."

Eduardo is relieved. He never would've thought Mark would be doing badly; Mark always tended to come out on top. But happy is still a further step than Eduardo had expected. "Is he—" Eduardo looks up at the sky, considering his words. He shouldn't ask, because he shouldn't care - but he's too involved now not to. "Have you ever seen him with anyone?"

Laurel bites at her thumbnail, thinking. "No." She makes a face. "Not that I would count? He's had dates, and a couple of people he's mentioned occasionally. But nobody permanent. He's never even had anyone come in or meet him at the office."

Nodding, Eduardo is careful to keep his released breath inaudible.

Linking her arm through his, Laurel says brightly, "He's definitely available right now. You two should talk when he wakes up."

"I'll take that under advisement," Eduardo says.

"Now come on," Laurel says, and nudges them into a faster walk as Facebook comes into view. "Chris has got an extra toothbrush in his desk and I've got some things for Mark. You can clean up and stop looking like you passed out on a table all night."

Then it's heading into winter, and the weather turns colder as they get the first snow flurries, and Eduardo appreciates Erica, because he has an ally in bullying Mark into dressing correctly for the weather - until he doesn't.

Mark and Erica break up in November, and Eduardo spends almost an hour hating himself for the flush of victory he feels when he reads Mark's vicious, terrible words.

Then he goes to find Mark, because Mark's displays of emotion tend to be self-destructive.

He's too late, of course, and Mark has already nurtured the idea and begun to plan out the code, and he's working on it like a project only moments from completion. There's a focus there that even Eduardo can't break.

He gives him the algorithm because that's what he does, and it's only a website, after all. Oh, there will be ramifications - but whatever those are, Eduardo might as well throw his lot in with Mark's. Chris doesn't even argue, just watches as they both do one of the most monumentally stupid things they've ever done, and Dustin is laughing in the background and throwing out the occasional suggestion when it looks like Mark might falter.

And then there's the site, and the hits, and the crashing servers, and the university sanctions, where Mark goes down on his own.

None of it's important, not really, not permanently, except Eduardo tries to figure out what Mark's grudge is, that is developing against girls and privilege and the world around him, and Mark, it turns out, is turning dangerously bitter in a way that makes Eduardo frightened for him. That Eduardo cannot get to him, cannot show him that everything is okay, everything will be okay, the world is not against you, Dustin is here and Chris is here and I am here—

And Mark turns away, and ignores him, and shows him you are not enough.

That's the part that's important, really. Not FaceMash. Mark already knew he could create websites that people used, and needed, and loved. But it's the very first time Eduardo reached and could not reach him.

Chris and Dustin come in late. Eduardo isn't the only one who notices - Laurel is sitting with him, silently working on her own computer as he clicks through the passwords and tries to decipher what one word describes the tangled situations Mark is prompting. She looks up absently when Dustin and Chris come in, and her eyes go wide and she smiles at them.

It's not hard to figure out, though - Chris has a hickey and Dustin is less than a foot behind him, and also has a hand in Chris' back pocket.

Chris only gets out a hello, struggling desperately for normalcy, before Laurel starts cooing congratulations and how she's so happy for them.

Dustin preens. Chris looks slightly nauseous, which is probably nerves.

Laurel leaves, then, but not before kissing them both on the cheek.

Dustin says, "She normally hates me! I should have tried dating boys years ago!" and Chris steps on his foot and twists away, sitting at the end of the table near Eduardo, where there's no chair for Dustin to sit next to him, and Dustin drags a chair around to sit next to him anyway, and Chris rolls his eyes but very obviously does not mind.

Dustin has not let up on the smugness. "Guess what?" he says.

"You slept with Chris," Eduardo says, and snorts only a little when Dustin looks disappointed that Eduardo doesn't ask for any elaboration. "Guess what?"

"What," Dustin says grudgingly. He keeps trying to roll closer to Chris' chair, and Chris keeps kicking the legs of the chair so it rolls back.

"I'm on the third document of code."

They both look sort of impressed. Then Chris looks at him more closely and frowns. "And you stayed here all night to do it."

"I didn't want to go back to the hotel," Eduardo says, waving a hand. "And then I ended up passing out on the table."

"Nice," Dustin says. "It's like Mark's work ethic is infectious."

Chris and Eduardo both look at him oddly.

"It's spread through contact with his computer!" Dustin says. "Whatever, shut up. Finish the stupid code."

Chris stays in the conference room with them, and Dustin munches loudly on a bag of chips while Chris tries to keep shoving him away and staring at the prompts on the screen with voyeuristic intensity.

Eduardo doesn't lie when he tells Mark that The Facebook sounds like a good idea. He would've, if he'd had to, because it was worth anything to see Mark engaged again, excited and bright and not snarling at the entirety of civilization. But he doesn't lie, because he thinks it is an amazing idea.

Of course, he doesn't think it's so amazing once Mark starts work.

It's like this: Mark is bad when it comes to priorities. Even once you discount the disagreements in outlook, such as Eduardo's belief that a college education should come before any extracurricular or hobby, even one like Mark's, or Mark's belief that honesty comes before tact but after displays of superiority in importance while Eduardo would rather have his tongue pulled out than lie, but even once you discount the fundamental differences in viewpoint there are certain priorities that should be upheld, ones which most people would agree on, like sleep and food and the occasional break so you don't get tension headaches like migraines and possibly ruin your eyes forever.

Mark doesn't agree.

Mark decides to code almost non-stop on this project, in a way that makes every other time Eduardo has complained about it look like a vast over-exaggeration, because the project is huge and, really, honestly going to be the death of Mark and Eduardo both if this keeps up.

A week in, Eduardo imposes a moratorium on electronics and steals every power cable from the suite. Then he tells Dustin and Chris and Billy, who know to get the hell out so they're not there when Mark's laptop dies and he realizes what the fuck has actually happened.

Eduardo ignores Mark's vicious, biting remarks, and shoves food at him, which Mark swallows practically whole while verbally eviscerating every aspect of Eduardo's ancestry, and pushes him in the shower, where Mark's voice echoes weirdly as he bitches about Eduardo's ignorance and clear lack of foresight, and then shoves him at the bed, where Mark finally shuts up because he passes out literally almost as soon as he's horizontal.

Then Eduardo returns the cables and gets the hell out, too, because he does have some survival instincts and a very healthy respect for Mark's affinity for vengeance on those who fuck with his computer.

It gets better after that, because Mark has proof that Eduardo's threats of interference are real, so he behaves almost like on any coding project before, except that now every time he talks it's about the code, about the project, and he lights up in a way that makes Eduardo deliriously happy and utterly terrified, because eventually the high will fade and Mark is downright fucking dangerous when he's disappointed or angry about something.

Final clubs? leaves Eduardo stumped.

He tries the name of every one, every word combination of email and lists and addresses, and he is about to give up in frustration when Chris touches his elbow, lightly, and then takes the laptop.

Eduardo can't see what he types, but it takes.

"What was it?" Eduardo asks, frowning, and wonders why Chris and Dustin look so solemn, and why they know and he doesn't.

"It doesn't matter," Chris says, sliding the computer back.

Eduardo stares at him, at Dustin who goes shifty-eyed and ashamed.

"What?" he repeats.

"Abandon," Dustin says, and flinches, and Eduardo grits his teeth and very carefully doesn't say anything at all.

He never even cared about the final clubs, not like Mark. He'd been happy for the acknowledgement, since it was the only time anyone had seemed to be impressed by the - frankly amazing, fuck everyone - thing he'd done last summer, in between talking dirty to Mark and learning to barbecue with his mother. But he hadn't cared.

Mark was a bitch when he was upset, and Eduardo couldn't even help with this - he couldn't get Mark in with him, and trying to talk about it only made Mark worse.

And still, Mark managed to ruin everything - Facebook was more important than the initial punch, the second round opened and Mark asked him for $200 dollars and told him he'd already taken it, as if it was his right, as if he was entitled to Eduardo's money the way he thinks he's entitled to Eduardo's attention.

At the time, Eduardo had been thankful the majority of his punching had been going on while Mark was otherwise busy with coding Facebook anyway.

The night thefacebook.com goes online is not particularly auspicious. The weather kind of sucks, slushy and grey, and Dustin has been sort of flirting with this one girl but there is really nothing interesting happening at all.

Eduardo gives up the emails, and they all wait expectantly, but The Facebook is not like FaceMash, after all, they know that, so Dustin and Billy take their pent up energy out. Chris waves at Mark and Eduardo and Mark even nods back, and then Chris retreats into his room, yawning.

"So what now?" Eduardo asks quietly.

He meant mostly to fill the silence, because Mark is fidgeting with his computer and not the type of focused that means Eduardo can ignore him. It's not as if it's not an appropriate question - launching a website you're actually hoping to grow into a business, it's not a bad idea to talk about it - and besides, Mark is always happy to wave his hands around and talk expansively about his plans.

But this time Mark spins his chair around, looking at Eduardo intently.

"Mark?" Eduardo asks. He frowns. "Everything okay?"

"I want to fuck you," Mark says.

Eduardo can feel his mouth go slack, partly open. Mark waits.

"Okay," Eduardo says. As if there were anything else about to come off his tongue.

Mark walks over to him, standing between Eduardo's legs. "I wasn't asking for permission," he says. "Just so you're aware."

"I hope you were asking for some permission," Eduardo says, laughing thinly.

Mark bites his mouth, kissing him hard, and all his impatience and greed for the site is on Eduardo, pressing him down like anchors into the bed. Mark crawls over him, hand in Eduardo's hair and the other digging into Eduardo's chest as he holds himself up, and Eduardo is having trouble breathing.

"Off," he chokes out, pulling away and pushing at Mark's shoulders. "I have to get undressed, Mark, we need to be naked, you need to get off."

Mark snarls and kneels up, yanking at his clothes, and Eduardo doesn't fumble his buttons open fast enough to avoid Mark's fingers scrabbling underneath the hem of his undershirt and hauling both up. The collar on the dress shirt almost kills him, but Mark shoves him back and is even less kind to the pants, and Eduardo's head smacks into the wall in the process, and then all but their underwear is gone and Mark is kissing him again.

"The site, it's," Mark says, hot and desperate against Eduardo's mouth, and then hisses, "take your fucking boxers off, I want—" and he grabs for the lube and a condom.

Eduardo laughs, almost disbelieving, and then swallows it down and divests himself of his underwear as quickly as possible, before the determined look Mark is leveling at him turns vicious.

Mark is not much for moving slowly. He gets lube all over the place and a couple fingers in Eduardo, and Eduardo grabs at the pillow under his head and holds on. Before he pushes in a third finger Mark leans down and licks at Eduardo's cock, getting distracted and sucking, and then he coordinates his mouth and his fingers, and Eduardo yelps too loudly before forcing his mouth shut.

Not even distracted by Eduardo's flailing, Mark pulls off and slides his fingers out, fisting Eduardo's cock one last time and then fumbling with the condom. His hands are all sticky and he doesn't have the best coordination, and Eduardo snatches it from him and tears it open, rolling it on.

"How do you want—" but Eduardo loses the sentence to another surprised sound as Mark steals the pillow from under his head to shove under his hips.

"Right, okay," Eduardo says, and braces his heels on the bed as Mark pushes into him.

He freezes when he's in, eyes closed as he pants, and he looks shocked when he looks at Eduardo again, shocked and a little unsure.

Eduardo reaches up and scratches along his back and hisses, "Don't you fucking dare stop now."

Mark's hips thrust, shallow, and Eduardo says, "You can't give up because you're scared, if you can't finish you shouldn't fucking start."

When Eduardo yanks him down at the end, kissing him sloppily, Mark shoves him back and grabs his hips and pushes all the way in. It was the right way to get to him — he slaps Eduardo's hands away, grabs his legs and ass and arms like Eduardo's just a thing to be moved, and he doesn't back down.

It hurts more than Eduardo likes, because he hasn't been fucked in years and even then never this rough, but every time he talks Mark's face twists and his body responds, and Eduardo is controlling him without even his conscious awareness of it, and it's a little cruel and very high-handed and everything Eduardo would need to get off, even if Mark weren't fucking him hard enough to leave bruises.

Mark doesn't stop when Eduardo comes, doesn't even slow, but he notices the mess on their stomachs and smears his fingers through it, just making a mess, and he looks viciously triumphant, as if Eduardo is part of the world and he's conquered it. Eduardo tips his head back, panting and letting his hands splay out helplessly, and Mark makes a shocked, desperate sound when Eduardo says, "Please, please."

It's that easy to get him to come, frantic and messy, and Eduardo catches him as he comes down and feels as triumphant as he imagines Mark ever does.

"Hey," he says, into Mark's hair, and Mark groans and pushes up, looking down between them.

He looks uncertain, frozen in place as Eduardo takes the condom and wraps it in a couple of tissues and drops the wad on the floor.

"Hey," Eduardo says again, and stretches and smiles.

Mark lays out over him again, tentative, and his hands clutch at Eduardo.

"That was unexpected," Eduardo continues, petting down Mark's back. He's almost shivering, he's so tense. "Best I've ever been fucked, though."

There's another moment of stillness, and then Mark breathes out noisily and drops his head onto Eduardo's shoulder. He doesn't relax enough, and Eduardo really wants to pass out and ignore the fact that Chris probably just got awfully loud proof of what their plans for this evening were.

"Come on, Mark," Eduardo says, trying to get him to relax enough to sleep, but Mark shakes him off and says, "I have to check the site."

Eduardo watches as he clicks through, micromanaging every line of code, and then slides over when Mark comes back. Mark lies next to him, squashed down the line of their bodies until Eduardo grabs his shoulder and forces him down onto his stomach. Eduardo holds on, half-lying on him, and keeps ahold of his wrists so he can't move without fighting. "It's perfect, Mark," Eduardo says, just soft against the skin on his neck. "It's going to be amazing."

Mark relaxes, then, and finally sleeps.

---

Mark rides the high of the launch for weeks. He's on the computer almost constantly, of course, because there's thousands of little tweaks to make and always will be, but when he surfaces there's always this small, pleased smile on his face.

He fucks Eduardo again two days later, when Eduardo comes over after class and finds him napping on the couch, computer humming warm on his stomach.

Eduardo takes the computer and then wakes him, and Mark reaches up for him, until Eduardo is straddling his hips and kissing him all the way down into the couch. Then Mark touches him, says, "I want—" until Eduardo gets a condom and rides him, there where Mark is happy and in love with the world.

And four nights after that he wakes Eduardo by pounding on his door at three in the morning, and when Eduardo lets him in he clutches, hands greedy, and doesn't let go until after he fucks Eduardo, there on the floor less than four feet from the bed. He shakes with adrenaline and exhaustion the whole time, and after Eduardo has to almost pick him up.

Eduardo leaves him in bed the next day, and Mark doesn't wake up until early evening. His eyes are clear when they blink around, and he focuses on Eduardo, who turned from his desk when Mark started moving.

Eduardo gets up, undressing without a word, and slides back into bed, lying with Mark and listening as he starts to talk about the site, what it would mean if the server load was too much, and what it feels like to be scared for the first time. When he's done he's breathing quickly, too quickly, and he's grabbing for Eduardo again.

Eduardo catches his hands, pushes them back to the bed. Then Eduardo puts his fingers on Mark's neck, feeling his pulse match the cadence of his breaths. It doesn't slow even as he waits.

"You need to calm down," Eduardo tells him.

"This is important," Mark starts, voice rising, but Eduardo taps his fingers on Mark's pulse and says, "I know, but you still need to."

Mark frowns, and grumbles, and starts to turn away.

"Let me help you," Eduardo says, and when Mark doesn't protest he lays his head back down, and leaves his hand over Mark's throat.

Mark picks up the thread again, skipping over possibilities of failure in favor of endless plans on how to combat it, contingency plans for every possible situation, from fire to hostile sabotage. He doesn't notice his words coming faster, his breath, until he's drawing gulps of air in between volleys of sentences.

Slowly, gradually, Eduardo presses his hand down, not enough Mark even notices at first, until Mark has to take two breaths instead of one, fighting against the constriction. He does, though, breathing in, and he touches Eduardo's wrist lightly until Eduardo relaxes his hold again and Mark builds up the stream of words.

He's on to coding problems now, consistency and efficiency and other properties of the build that matter a little now but will matter so much more when there's ten thousand users, a hundred thousand.

Eduardo holds down again, increasing pressure until Mark eases off. This time, when Mark touches his wrist, he wraps his fingers all the way around Eduardo's arm and doesn't let go.

It takes longer the third time, for Mark's voice to get louder and his heartbeat to accelerate, beating staccato under Eduardo's fingertips, and it takes less time for him to slow, and when Eduardo does squeeze, and Mark does breathe, he also holds onto Eduardo's wrist tightly, grip only loosening when he's taken a couple of slow, deep breaths and he's ready to talk more.

He goes longer and longer after that, exponential improvement, and the barest hint of pressure makes his voice stop, makes him tip his head back and swallow air and spiral down.

When his pulse is slower even than normal, when he's relaxed against Eduardo's side and explaining everything instead of bitching, then Eduardo presses down, just a little, barely enough to feel, and he doesn't let up. Mark's voice slows even further, and he does nothing but breathe and sigh when Eduardo releases him completely.

Eventually even that stops, and Eduardo doesn't know precisely when he slips back asleep, because he mumbles unintelligibly for a very long time, but his face is calm and his eyes shut when Eduardo finally takes his hand away and returns to his homework.

That night Mark wakes him again, feet twitching in between Eduardo's legs and hand rubbing up and down his side, and his eyes are wide and blurred when Eduardo turns his head to look at him.

Mark says his name, and he touches Eduardo's wrist, and shakes himself. Eduardo draws him closer, yawning, and then lays Mark on his stomach and sprawls over him. He presses him into the bed, feeling Mark settle, and sleeps with his head between Mark's shoulder blades, and Mark sleeps quiet the rest of the night.

"I have to get out of here," Eduardo says at lunch, and brushes off Chris' offer to go to some great nearby restaurant, not least because Dustin is giving Eduardo frantic looks and making motions that Eduardo interprets to mean Dustin wants to take Chris into the nearest closet and fuck him stupid.

So Eduardo takes a taxi to the hospital by himself. There he says he's waiting to see Mark Zuckerberg, because the nurse at the front desk insists she can't let him back even if he knows what room and patient he's there to see, and then he has to wait longer because there's something in Mark's file that says he has to be personally escorted by the same nurse they saw last time. The nurse he's talking to is a little confused, too, but adamant, so he waits and watches down the hall impatiently.

The nurse ends up being a social little thing, though, because she catches him looking at the pictures on the walls and proceeds to tell him about every patient that ever made one. It turns out this hospital holds everyone from coma patients to cancer patients to the largest blood bank in a hundred miles, and Eduardo finds himself drawn in by all the nurse's stories despite himself.

"Mr. Zuckerberg has been moved," says Mark's nurse, Karen, and Eduardo jumps and has to compose himself before turning around to face her. The nurses at the front station laugh at him.

They have to go up a floor and down two hallways to get to Mark's room, which is larger and brighter than his last one, not that he can appreciate it. He probably wouldn't even if he were conscious.

"How are you still in charge of his rotation if he's been moved floors?" Eduardo asks, stalling. He doesn't want to go in that room.

"I handle coma patients, no matter where we house them. The lower floor is kept clear so arrivals go more smoothly," Karen snaps, and turns on her heel. Eduardo barely avoids holding up his hands in a sign of surrender.

"Hey, Mark," he says, as he walks into the room, as if this were a normal visit and Mark weren't half dead.

He pulls the armchair from the corner over to the side of Mark's bed, and sees there's a backpack of clothes and laptop. Eduardo can't help but smile - trust Chris to think to bring the coma patient supplies, just in case.

"I don't know what I want to say to you," Eduardo says. "I wanted a break from the code, and you're the only thing I know in Palo Alto." He breathes in. "You're still an asshole," he says. "I don't know why you did this, and don't think I'm not going to kill you for it when you wake up, but you're an asshole."

Eduardo stands up and shuts the door, and sees how blank the tables in the room are when he turns around. It's ridiculous that he feels guilty for not bringing flowers. He paces instead, staring at the floor.

"I don't want to remember any of this. I didn't think you even would. But you do, and I have to, and I don't even understand why you chose the passwords you did. Some of that shit is so far from important it's practically mundane, and some of it - why the fuck would you build code behind a program that nobody but your worst enemy could get into if you died?"

He looks over again, and he sees Mark's left fingers twitch, just a little, and he freezes for a split second before scrambling over. Nothing's different when he's close, though; Mark's eyes aren't even moving underneath his eyelids like movies sometimes show. Eduardo touches the back of his hand hesitantly, and it is warm but still and unresponsive.

Eduardo watches him for what feels like forever, because he was imagining it, Mark is—

He sucks in a breath and walks out of the room, and he lets the door slam shut behind him.

---

Chris and Dustin are still elsewhere when he gets back, so Eduardo manages to get through one of the embarrassing prompts by himself. It's only Mark, of course, who would take the entire night of Bill Gates' talk and have blowjobs be the only important part, not the girlfriends they would get - which would have a pretty fucking huge impact on Eduardo's life, he considers Christy pretty relevant; also, he would've expected Mark to program a prompt about her, since it would've let him gloat. He had gloated back then: look, and you said you would never have a girlfriend if you were still fucking me - and not the Winklevosses' cease and desist, which doesn't actually surprise him that much, as Mark hadn't considered it important even then.

And there's nothing about his apology to Erica, though Eduardo would consider that a pretty fucking fundamental part, too, because Mark's ambition needed that kick in the ass the same way Christy needed to form stronger emotional dependencies, but it happened and The Facebook expanded and yes, that is extremely fucking important.

It's been one goddamn prompt and Eduardo is so mad he could strangle Mark.

Because Mark skipped right over all that shit, over everything Eduardo would characterize as majorly fucking important, and asked for New York?

And Eduardo gets it on the first try, because in Mark's experience, New York only had one reason for its existence.

Sean

New York is humiliating in every possible respect.

Mark comes with to all of the advertising meetings, claiming he won't allow Eduardo to barter away his site without his say-so, and these are the people that already think they're pretentious upstarts with hot air and no substance under their wings, and then Mark treats every meeting like his goddamn Intro to Chem lecture and essentially proves every one of their bad assumptions correct.

Eduardo wants to strangle him by the end of the first day, and not in the good way.

He's still got Christy to deal with, too. She spends most of her time shopping or eating or visiting friends, of which she seems to have literally thousands, and she comes back afternoons and evenings and demands his attention and all of the patience he doesn't have. He has to be careful not to piss her off, because if she called off Sean Parker now Mark would never forgive him.

Then they do meet Sean, and he's worse than Eduardo dreaded. Christy adores him, which Eduardo expected, but Mark lights up as soon as Sean starts talking, and to be fair, Sean never stood a chance. Eduardo was always going to hate him, because Mark is sitting there looking at him with more adoration than he has ever bestowed on anyone, even Erica. It's a far cry from how he looks at Eduardo, who's just his fuck buddy of a year and a half and occasional friend.

Sean leaves with Mark wrapped around his finger, Christy incredibly tipsy, and Eduardo impotent and thoroughly homicidal. Mark and Eduardo argue on the way back; it's not vicious, but it's frightening.

Eduardo is mildly panicked by the time they get back to the hotel, but Mark gives him a sardonic smile as they part to go to separate rooms. Christy is hanging off of him, touching, and Eduardo sleeps with her that night, with her encouraging moans and pushy hands, and all he wants to do is leave, find Mark, and fuck him, not her, and say mine, you are mine, and this is ours and hold on to him until he remembers.

He doesn't have the courage, and Christy lies on the other side of the bed, distant and beautiful and everything somebody else wants.

---

And when they get back there is the chicken, of course there is the chicken, and in retrospect these final clubs will seem like they're not fucking worth it, Eduardo can see that even now, but he's in and he's not going to quit now.

He doesn't think about it, obviously, feeding it meat, and it doesn't fucking matter; the whole thing doesn't.

Until it gets a featured news article and Mark freaks out on him.

It's a goddamn chicken, is the thing, and Mark is the person who would have a cat and accidentally starve it to death, probably, so Eduardo knows he doesn't actually give a shit about the bird. The problem is that he cares about something, and he won't tell Eduardo what it is. Still, while it's a little embarrassing, and Eduardo does mind being mocked, he'll get over it.

Then Mark talks about going to California, because he bought every word that came out of Sean's coke-loving ass, and the fucking worst part is that he's right - California is the best place to be, there's a reason Eduardo suggested Stanford, not that anyone, least of all Mark remembers that, but he's right - except he's going for the wrong reasons. For the first time Mark is using Facebook as an excuse to get something he wants, rather than his driving goal, and Eduardo despises Sean for causing the paradigm shift.

Eduardo stays over that night, and curls around Mark in the way they fit comfortably - Billy is passed out and won't wake up until long after Eduardo has gone - and he asks into the dark, "Is that it? You needed to tell me you're going to California?"

"Yes," Mark says.

"Is that all?" Eduardo presses.

"Yes," Mark says, blatantly lying. He's not even trying to pass it as truth, just trying to get Eduardo to leave him alone.

Eduardo breathes out fast like a sob and digs his fingers into Mark's ribs until they cramp. Mark doesn't ask him to stop; Mark doesn't acknowledge it at all.

Eduardo is in no mood to speak to anyone, so of course, now Dustin returns.

Dustin doesn't notice anything at first, bopping in and sprawling out in the chair opposite Eduardo. "Chris kicked me out," he says, and pulls a tragic face.

Eduardo says, "Oh," flatly.

"It's not my fault two people walked in on us!" Dustin says. "There need to be more locks around here."

Shaking his head, Eduardo stares down at his hands.

"Oh, shit, what's wrong with you now?" Dustin asks, sitting forward. The disgustingly besotted look slides away, thank god. Eduardo gets why Chris was always so irritated at seeing he and Mark.

"What do you think?" Eduardo snaps. "I don't want to do this. Mark isn't even conscious and he's dragging me around the globe."

"You two have the most unhealthy dating rituals," Dustin says, grinning, and then winces when Eduardo glowers at him. "Too soon, shit, sorry."

Eduardo pinches his mouth shut.

"Uh," Dustin says, darting a look around. "Do you want me to get Chris?"

"No," Eduardo says, and shakes himself. "No, you can stay."

"All right," Dustin agrees, a little awkwardly, and settles back into the chair.

"Would you type?" Eduardo asks impulsively, sliding the laptop over. "It's easier."

Dustin says, "Yeah, course."

Eduardo probably gets Bs in most of his classes, but Mark doesn't even go to one of his finals so Eduardo still comes out on top. They're all frantic, dashing around trying to smooth everything over. There are the moms to deal with, who are less than enthusiastic about letting their sons run off to California, the land of perdition.

"Sorry," Dustin says, grimacing, and puts the phone on mute. "My mother can be a little overdramatic."

Chris grunts at him - he's checking over housing, lease agreements and codes about occupancy limits, afraid with all the interns they're bringing there will be a problem.

They also have to deal with said interns dropping out due to being unable to come to Palo Alto, which Eduardo mainly deals with because Mark is too busy killing himself to keep up with the pace of the site growth pace. Dustin helps him find replacements, mainly, but Eduardo personally makes them check their availability for cross-country moves so they get the whole coders problem worked out. Billy helps Mark when Dustin can't, and when Dustin can, Billy tries to figure out how to divide up the duties for the site in an equal, trackable way. It's not going well.

Mark wants Eduardo around all the time. Mostly it's because Eduardo makes things easy, like he always has - the food and the reminders and the dealing with neighbors that come by with complaints about weird noises in the middle of the night (Dustin falling off his chair onto empty beer cans and half-full ramen containers) and horrible things Mark has said to them when Eduardo does force him to leave the room. But Mark also touches Eduardo a lot, this half-conscious anxious touch-stoning, where he clutches at Eduardo's shirt or jacket just long enough to wrinkle them permanently and then shoves him away, spouting something Dustin or Billy needs to look at while he keeps the site from dying an imminent death, yes, now, unless I—

Eduardo stays around as much as he can, because fuck, California - and he's not going.

He and Chris promise to go with everyone to the airport. Not all of the interns are leaving straight from Harvard when classes end, but some of them are - and Dustin and Mark are heading out as soon as physically possible so they can set things up, make them usable out on the west coast.

Mark has been fairly vibrating with impatience the last week before they go, and it's the night before they leave when Eduardo breaks. He'd promised himself he wouldn't be selfish, that he'd let Mark decide what he wanted and how, but Eduardo grabs the neck of Mark's t-shirt and says, "Come over tonight."

Mark looks back at him briefly, nodding, and then Eduardo steps over the various bodies of coders, both interns and volunteers, to head back to his dorm. Everything's been packed so there's some room for them, but the suite is still overfull. There's only boys and computers left, and Eduardo turns to say goodbye to Dustin, sprawled on the couch with his eyes half-shut and his fingers still moving, and feels his breath catch as he looks around. He wants to take a picture, or go back two months when this was all still a distant future. Instead he raises a hand, and Dustin grins and waves back, and Eduardo swallows hard before walking down the steps of Kirkland.

Mark knocks a little before midnight. He's got his bag with him, which he drops at the foot of the bed and then turns, staring at Eduardo, who's sitting in his desk chair. "What now?" he asks.

He sounds genuinely clueless, and Eduardo shakes his head and says, "Anything you want."

"I want you to fuck me," Mark says.

Eduardo stands up, and Mark fumbles with his clothes. "Let me," Eduardo says, and catches his hands.

Mark's breathing is unsteady, and he nods.

Eduardo has a lot of practice with Mark's clothes. He knows everything in his wardrobe, and he knows which Mark likes and which he doesn't, and he knows what Mark's bringing to California.

He's bringing everything, because he doesn't expect to come back.

Eduardo yanks the sweatshirt up, and runs his hands down the front of the t-shirt, tracing the peeling letters from memory. Mark lets out a soft breath when Eduardo reaches his pants, but Eduardo just grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, too. Mark has to help with the pants, stepping out, and once he's naked he grabs for Eduardo, shoving at his suits and scratching for the skin underneath.

Eduardo lets him, ignoring the seams cracking and the button that pops off, and when Mark gets everything off he grabs Eduardo's shoulders and pulls him back so they topple onto the bed. Eduardo kisses him roughly, deeply, over and over and over, and still Mark bites at his lip when he tries to pull away.

"Condoms," Eduardo says, "I have to get—"

"Here," Mark says, "here, here, just—"

Their teeth click, and they knock both pillows off the bed and Eduardo's wallet and keys off the bedside table, and Mark scratches at Eduardo's back so hard Eduardo thinks he'll bleed.

Mark won't even let him prep him, just twists away from fingers and claws his way on top of Eduardo, and sinks down onto Eduardo's cock at the same time Eduardo digs his teeth into his neck. Mark cries out, from one or the other, and Eduardo holds tight to him and pushes up.

It's not quick. They push against each other, and Mark's breathing is wild and frantic from the beginning, but Mark rides him and Eduardo's still desperate, still aching, and he rolls them over, knocking into the wall and pushing back into Mark. Mark ends up face down, and he moans loudly because he likes being fucked like this best, but he still fights, pushes up until he can roll over.

Eduardo's between his legs now, and he has to grab for the pillows, which only sort of end up under Mark before Mark wraps his legs around Eduardo and pulls him back in.

They're messy and too loud, and this does it for them, Mark comes wet as soon as Eduardo touches him, easy. Eduardo comes when Mark pulls him down and whispers sloppy promises into his ears, about sand and sun and money, and being out there together, the four of them, but Mark and Eduardo especially.

Eduardo doesn't even pretend to clean up after, just dumps everything but Mark and one pillow off the bed and lays out on top of Mark, feeling him breathe and, as he falls asleep, mumble quietly to himself. He has ahold of one of Eduardo's wrists.

There's not enough time before Mark leaves, less than twelve goddamn hours. Eduardo stays awake, listening to Mark and talking to him, saying everything he's ever wanted for him, like prayers to his dreams.

He doesn't fall asleep until just before dawn, and it still doesn't feel like enough time.

"Can I ask you something?" Chris asks.

Eduardo blinks over at him. He comes in, shutting the door and locking it behind himself. "Yes," Eduardo says. Chris doesn't even need permission - Eduardo can't think of anything he would refuse Chris, not after everything.

"Why did you give him the money?"

Eduardo blinks. Dustin's head swivels back and forth between them, looking half-frightened.

"Why wouldn't I?" Eduardo says, puzzled. "He was my best friend. I loved him. He asked me, and I had it, and even if Facebook had been doomed from the start I would have, because I would do anything to make him look that happy."

Chris folds his hands and stares down at them, frowning a little. "Do you—?" he starts, peering at Eduardo.

"I'd do it again," Eduardo says, and sighs. "I sound like an idiot, and obviously there are parts I'd change, but being part of it? Even the way it ended? I wouldn't say no, not ever."

"Have you ever told Mark no?" Chris asks quietly, and then watches Eduardo carefully.

This is the real question, Eduardo realizes, and even though he doesn't know what Chris is getting at he knows the answer isn't a good one. "No," he admits, grudgingly, and stares back at the screen.

Mark never remembers to call at any appropriate times - instead, if he feels like talking or complaining or checking in, he just picks up the phone and dials right before going to bed. For Eduardo this often means getting woken up in the early hours of the morning, though sometimes it will be while he was eating breakfast or, most rarely, late afternoon; those are the times Eduardo likes most, because Mark only calls then if he's been awake for days at a time, and he is always loopy and really happy-sounding.

It makes Eduardo miss him with an actual pang, but it also makes him feel like everything is worth it, like it's last summer all over again and in a few months they'll see each other again and Eduardo will be able to wrap around Mark again and not let go ever again. He tells himself that will still happen, even if venues have changed, but he believes it only when Mark is murmuring something stupid about cartoons or the phallic shape of bongs.

Tonight he's exhausted, and he's drunk and even a little high, but Eduardo doesn't mind - he seems pretty calm and happy, considering, and it's not like Eduardo actually needs to understand what Mark says when he's like this. Inevitably, Mark talks himself out, and it's silent for just a moment, and then he asks, "Eduardo?"

"Uh-huh," Eduardo says, and yawns.

"Talk to me," Mark says.

Eduardo raises his eyebrows at his ceiling. He's already struggling to keep himself awake. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Anything," Mark says, and then, "No, not anything. Tell me about you, your childhood or something. Anything else is complicated."

Eduardo yawns again, wider, and starts to tell Mark about the house in Brazil when he was a child. He talks about wandering the hallways, and how every door and window was always open to let the air in. He still sometimes misses Brazil's weather, and he says that, too. Then he talks about moving, what it's like to immigrate to a new country.

Mark, who has only been humming occasionally, only enough to let Eduardo know he's not asleep, asks, "Did you already know English?"

"Yeah," Eduardo says. "I had to become more fluent once we moved, but it wasn't an entirely new language."

"Will you say something in Portuguese?" Mark asks, so Eduardo says, "Algo."

"Very funny, asshole," Mark says. He sounds like he's smiling a little. Eduardo wishes he knew for sure. "Talk to me in Portuguese."

"Você está exigindo," Eduardo says, and Mark hums, making a pleased sound.

It's easier, in a way, talking in Portuguese - not because it's any easier to say, but because, knowing Mark can't understand it, Eduardo mostly says nonsense. He keeps talking: about moving, about living in Florida and going to school.

"E então eu conheci você." Eduardo trails off. Mark's breathing sounds.

"Would you teach me Portuguese?" Mark says, and breathes out a sigh.

"Yeah," Eduardo says quietly. "Whatever you want."

"It's good," Mark says, and Eduardo hears the sheets shifting as he moves. "It makes me fall asleep."

"Thanks," Eduardo says, smiling.

Mark repeats, "It's good."

"Like a lullaby," Eduardo says.

"Yeah, just like a lullaby," Mark says, and he was probably going for sarcasm but he misses by a mile.

Eduardo talks a little more, and the next time he stops Mark is asleep.

---

Eduardo doesn't come out to California because Mark asks him to. That doesn't mean Mark doesn't ask - he does, in his own way, every time he tells Eduardo about the amazing things they've been doing and then asks, in an offhand tone, what Eduardo did today. He doesn't care what Eduardo did - he just wants to make Eduardo think about what he could be doing.

When Eduardo decides to come out to California it's because he's tired, and Christy will not leave him alone, and Mark hasn't called him all week.

He emails Mark his itinerary, and Mark tells him in further detail how amazing California is, and Eduardo nods and makes all the right noises in the right places, and he counts down the rest of the week.

Mark swears he will pick Eduardo up.

But he doesn't, and Eduardo is left at the airport like a forgotten piece of luggage, and he finally catches a cab because he's not an idiot - if Mark's not here, Mark's not coming.

The house is small and hideous, and as Eduardo trudges through the pouring rain - fuck Mark and his the weather is great anyway - he wants to hug Mark and Dustin and then crash for the next ten hours.

And then Sean opens the door, and Eduardo realizes that, for all the phone calls, Mark had left out the most important thing. Sean looks about as pleased to see him as the other way around, but he covers well.

The first thing Eduardo sees in the house, before the mess and the mass of unwashed teenage boys, are the two girls on the couch; he would bet everything he has they're not even in college yet. And there is nobody here who realizes how potentially disastrous that is. It's not a good first impression, that Mark comes out here to try to change the world and he has people like this surrounding him.

Sean gives him some bullshit about how what they're working on is amazing, as if Eduardo doesn't know.

He asks about the girls, and then again, trying to get Sean to see how bad this is. Sean gets defensive, and Eduardo realizes he means everything he says - to Sean, having his name out there, even with how fucked his reputation is, is better than being unknown. Eduardo shakes his head, looking away, and feels very briefly sorry for him.

When Dustin turns and grins at him, Eduardo is relieved to see him cheerful, at least. Sean snaps his fingers and orders him back to work, like a dog, like any normal intern, and Dustin slumps, and Eduardo has to take a breath and keep himself from yelling. Chris would have, if he were here.

And then Mark is touching him, claiming his attention, and Mark may be exhausted but he lights up when he sees Eduardo, all the way up like the sun rising. It puts a weight on Eduardo's shoulders he's not sure he can bear when Mark, when he realizes Eduardo is a far cry from excited about being here, slumps back down, looking ashamed.

Dustin is pretending to ignore all of them.

But still Sean keeps climbing into the conversation, clamoring between them, and Eduardo can't even fucking ignore him, because what the fuck is he talking about, investors?

Mark won't speak for himself. Eduardo says something to him and Sean responds, like a fucked up version of a telephone. Eduardo is losing his temper, and he snaps at Sean, and Sean snaps back - and it was deliberate, hitting like that, but it fucking hurts when Sean points out, without even saying the words, that he's done more to expand Facebook in two months than Eduardo has done in seven.

Eduardo looks at Mark, and whatever expression he has on his face is enough to make Mark straighten, looking at him, alarmed or worried, and when they walk past Sean, Mark ignores him.

In the hall Mark actually tries to reach out to him. But he asks about the internship, about Christy, and he really has not been listening to a goddamn word Eduardo's told him all summer. He even has the nerve to ask as if he's got the high ground - "Must be nice to have a girlfriend," as if he weren't the first one to get a girlfriend, as if Eduardo weren't dating Christy to get Mark to Sean. And when Eduardo corrects him Mark feels guilty, Eduardo can see it, the realization that he's failed yet again to meet one of those normal human interaction criteria, and when Mark feels bad he lashes out.

Eduardo is used to Mark's normal temper tantrums, to insults and bitching, and he knows Mark goes after people he's angry with in a way that Sean can only dream of, finding the one right phrase that will make them hate him forever. Knowing all of that doesn't make it any better when Mark demeans everything Eduardo has tried to do, simply because he hasn't succeeded at any of it. It's even unintentional, of course it is, because Mark never means to ruin his closest relationships. Knowing that doesn't help, either.

Mark talks to cover Eduardo's silence. He's talking the way he talks when he wants to impress Eduardo, when he wants to explain something only Mark can explain. It's probably meant as an apology. But Eduardo is sick and tired of dealing with this, with Sean and Mark lying, and Mark being the most insensitive person he's ever known. He knew what he'd signed up for, yes, but right now he's just fucking tired. Arguing with Mark never resolves anything. It's worse when Mark is only spouting other people's words, "connections" and "energy" and half of his sentences just bullshit stolen from Sean's pep talks.

"What did you mean, get left behind?" Eduardo asks.

Mark drops his gaze, watching the carpet. He shakes his head.

"Mark," Eduardo says, voice tearing.

Leaning forward, Mark catches his wrist. "Just stay," he says. "You have to be here."

"My flight out is tomorrow evening," Eduardo says. Mark closes his eyes, slumping. "I'll come back," Eduardo says.

"Yeah, whatever," Mark says.

Eduardo has Mark show him the site, listens to him talk in person about everything new. He meets a couple of interns that were hired on the spot upon arrival in Palo Alto. Sean gives them a wide berth, mostly because he's three-fourths of the way unconscious on drugs and alcohol. Dustin gives up on code and comes to sit with them out at the pool for a while, ankles dragging in the water. Eduardo sees the chimney, and knows what happened there, because Mark will tell him about shattering a couple of bricks and not the company they own.

Mark slumps sideways, though, and dozes on Eduardo's shoulder, and finally Dustin stands up and says, "I think you should take him inside."

"He's tired," Eduardo says neutrally.

"We're all tired recently," Dustin snorts. "Even you."

Eduardo nods, but he doesn't move quite yet.

"Sean's not entirely bad, you know," Dustin says.

"I know," Eduardo admits grudgingly.

"He's not you," Dustin says, "but he kind of helps us like you sometimes."

Eduardo knows what he means - Sean has selfish motivations, and he's an arrogant dick, but he does at least make sure Mark survives. Eduardo doubts anyone else uses the kitchen, and at least Sean does, even if the food he makes is junk and the drinks are all alcoholic.

"Do you really think I belong out here?" Eduardo asks Dustin sardonically. "This isn't exactly where I pictured myself."

Dustin shrugs. "So you stay until you get used to it."

He wanders inside, and Eduardo stays out for a while longer. In New York the sun would just be coming up. Finally he nudges Mark and gets him up on his feet. Sean is passed out on the couch, and the girls are on the floor. One of them is still giggling occasionally. Three of the interns are still coding, oblivious.

Eduardo finds Mark's room because he recognizes Mark's computer. The bed has piles of clothes on it, which Eduardo shoves to the floor before dropping Mark down to sleep. Mark curls on his side, blinking at him, and Eduardo says, "Do you need to eat?"

Mark shakes his head.

"Promise you will when you get up," Eduardo says, and Mark makes this face at him, as if he's wounded.

"You said you don't leave until tomorrow afternoon," Mark says.

"I have to leave Palo Alto in about twelve hours," Eduardo says. "You might not be awake by then."

"Wake me up," Mark says.

"No. You need to sleep."

"Sean will wake me up," Mark says confidently.

"No," Eduardo says. "He won't. You need to sleep."

Mark sighs, frustrated, and watches while Eduardo goes around and scoops up the clothes, dropping them in a pile by the closet. He picks up the trashcan and gets all the cans and beer bottles in one fell swoop.

He expects Mark to be asleep, but when he's done Mark is still looking at him.

"Sean's easier than you," Mark says.

Eduardo freezes.

"He just - things just happen, like the investor meetings. And he understands Facebook. I tell him things and he gets it, and when I tell you things I have to explain them, everything, or you just smile. You only care about Facebook because I care about Facebook."

"That's not fair," Eduardo says numbly.

"I like you more," Mark says, slurring, and he grabs Eduardo's wrist. Eduardo lets himself be pulled closer, while Mark buries his face into the pillows. "I like you more," Mark says, "you're my friend."

"I am your friend," Eduardo says.

"But sometimes I wish you were more like Sean."

Eduardo waits until Mark is fully asleep before pulling away. Then he gets on Mark's computer and changes his flight. He gets the earliest one out, because he cannot be here when Mark wakes up. When any of them wake up.

Then he goes around the house and systematically gets rid of everything dangerous - he sends the girls home in a cab, he takes the enormous bong outside and breaks it, sticking it in a trashcan, and he puts Mark's clothes in to wash. As he's sorting through his fingers catch on something fuzzy and way too warm for California, and it's his hoodie. He thumbs the sleeve, and drops it back in.

There's trash but it could be worse, so he cleans the living room and then the kitchen, careful to avoid waking Sean, and takes the beer from the interns that are still awake and gives them water instead. They don't notice, except for one who he knows vaguely, and who nods at him.

Eduardo wonders how many strange people are through here every day, if they don't even question who he is.

He refuses to wonder how bad a sign it is that the few employees Facebook has so far - and he doesn't even know how many that is, not really - don't even know who he is.

When he's clearing out the fridge he finds a stash of cocaine inside a tupperware container. He flushes it, and hopes it was Sean's.

Dustin wakes a little, mumbling at him, when Eduardo goes through his room, too, but Dustin is used to him almost like Mark is used to him, and he settles back down. Eduardo touches his forehead lightly, and apologizes, and then the sun is coming up and he takes a taxi back to the airport.

There's a bank on the way there, and it's not a conscious thought, to tell the taxi driver to stop, but he does. Freezing the account is an impulse.

---

Eduardo had wanted Mark's attention, and he'll never be able to explain this to Mark, but it worked - here Mark is, snarling down the phone at him like he's the only thing in the world. Eduardo can't imagine ever truly regretting what he did. Even with Christy going crazy - and he doesn't know why he never broke up with her, except it was easier to maintain the status quo than to try to go against a personality like hers - and Mark three thousand miles away, Mark is the best thing Eduardo's ever heard.

And then Mark is saying, "Five hundred thousand," and, "We did it," and Eduardo is enormously, joyously proud of Mark, while his stomach plummets.

Mark doesn't need him. Mark doesn't need his reassurance, his presence; Mark doesn't need his money, either, he has investors and Sean.

Realizing you're disposable, Eduardo discovers, is one of those moments in life you never really recover from. He'll always feel this, he thinks, somewhere; he'll always feel this sucking nausea from hearing his world tear loose and resettle around him all wrong.

"I have to go," Mark says, distantly, after they've sat in silence, "I have to go save Dustin."

And this last phone call, then, is not like the others - Mark hangs up to celebrate in California, and Eduardo is left on the wrong side of the country.

But he won't be for long. He's going to California again, to secure his place in Facebook and remind Mark what they are together. He's not letting Sean steal anything from him.

"I have to take a break," Eduardo says, and walks out of the conference room. He doesn't know what Dustin does, but he doesn't follow Eduardo.

Eduardo ends up wandering around the Facebook offices. He's never just looked around, the times he's been here; he knows the major conference rooms and the main offices, but he's never been anywhere else.

The cubicles are interesting, in that he wants to ask Chris for a floor plan and see if there is an arrangement to them, as claimed, or if they were random. A couple of the employees look up at him, recognizing him as the guy who's been with Dustin and Chris the last couple of days, but nobody knows anything else and none of them try to talk to them. Along the walls are the fun rooms, the ones Eduardo thinks are entirely ridiculous. The office is quiet today, and there's a couple of people talking in one of them, on a coffee break.

The average age is finally up above twenty, Eduardo is glad to see - it would be creepy if the mid-twenties bosses only hired eighteen year olds, and it would get worse as the years went on.

He passes a copy room, and sees Laurel. She waves at him over her stack of papers and Eduardo smiles back, wandering down into the basement. It's just pipes and storage, and boxes and boxes of old furniture and equipment. Eduardo wonders, smiling slightly, if Mark's smashed laptop is in these boxes somewhere.

The second floor is unused offices, because Facebook still hasn't grown entirely into itself yet, and more storage. There's one long hallway Eduardo likes, that leads down to this enormous room that looks out over the front of the building. The size looks like it was meant to be a conference room, but it's been turned into an office, with a desk along one long wall and a small cluster of couches on the other. There's a small glass table with three chairs in the middle of the room. It looks like a small loft apartment, and Eduardo wonders if Mark has ever considered just living here. It's Mark, so probably - he would've considered pros and cons carefully, and likely made up his mind firmly, and then forced by Chris to live away from the offices instead.

It's probably been half an hour, since the sun is setting outside. Eduardo can see a couple of employees trickling out into the parking lot, heading home.

He goes to find Dustin, and finds him in Chris' office. They don't notice him so Eduardo just stands there for a minute and watches them. They're not doing anything; it doesn't even look like they're talking. Dustin is just sitting next to Chris on the couch, head tipped back, while Chris looks at something on his computer. They look peaceful.

"It's enough to make you jealous," Laurel says, coming up behind him. She speaks quietly, so her voice won't carry through the glass. "Billionaires and in love. Life is so hard." She's carrying the copies from earlier, but she's smiling at them.

Eduardo snorts a little despite himself.

"They're only a little younger than I am," she sighs, "but I feel like I have to watch them. It's worst with Mark - he's just so childish about things. In bad ways, too, but - he'll do things, and then he's surprised when something bad happens. He expects the world to work out for him."

"It's called entitlement," Eduardo says dryly, but Laurel doesn't laugh.

"No," she says. "I prefer to think of it as optimism. Or hope."

Eduardo can't bring himself to smile at her, but she nods at juggles the papers to pat his arm before she heads back to her desk. He turns back and knocks on the glass.

"Hey," Dustin says cautiously, when Eduardo opens the door.

"Hey," Eduardo says, and sighs and says, "I think it's mostly done. Come keep me company?" It's early evening, but he wants to finish this tonight.

"Yeah," Chris says, and levers himself up. Eduardo turns back to the conference room, but Dustin waits at the door of the office for Chris.

In the conference room Dustin takes the laptop again, and Eduardo and Chris sit on either side.

Eduardo doesn't even bother asking Mark to pick him up at the airport this time.

He gives the cab driver the address Mark texted him and sits back. It's a different section of Palo Alto - there are office buildings of brick and metal and glass, not stucco houses and wooden beams.

Inside the building everyone is busy unpacking. Mark is nowhere to be seen, and Eduardo is going to go poke around, but a lawyer snags him just inside the doors and says, "If you'd follow me."

Dustin waves at Eduardo through the glass, making a face and bouncing, and Eduardo smiles and turns to the lawyers.

The lawyers leave right after, and Dustin parades Eduardo around, bragging on everything. Mark has an office at the back, but he's at a desk in the corner coding instead.

He jumps when Eduardo touches his shoulder, then pulls his headphones off and spins around. He looks up at Eduardo; he seems almost anxious. "Hi, Mark," Eduardo says, tilting his head.

Mark stands up. "You're here. I didn't know you were here already."

"I am," Eduardo says, amused.

Mark stares at him for a moment longer, and Dustin is giving them a weird look. "I'll show you around," Mark says abruptly.

"I already—" Dustin starts, but Eduardo shakes his head quickly and lets Mark tow him around.

Mark is not as cheerful as Dustin. He's critical instead, complaining about how he doesn't know all the interns now well enough to know they're the best possible. It's entirely possible he doesn't even know all their names. By the time they're done, though, he's relaxed. He's still careful to keep his eyes on Eduardo most of the time.

Dustin brings them drinks, and Mark asks Eduardo to come out in November.

Eduardo promises he will.

There's a party after, going to a club; Sean isn't there. It's not because he's less a part of Facebook, but because Mark asked him to stay away. Dustin tells Eduardo this, very solemnly, and then grins and says, "You're totally Mark's favorite."

Mark gets very drunk, but he's also very tired, and they get back to the empty house earlier than anyone else. Eduardo follows Mark's clutching hands, alcohol and elation and success thrumming under his skin, but on Mark's bed, when Eduardo's kissing him, over and over, Mark keeps hesitating, hands hovering.

When he makes a small, quiet noise just because Eduardo bit his neck, Eduardo sits up and asks, "What's wrong?"

Mark shakes his head. "Nothing." Eduardo raises an eyebrow and looks down at Mark's hand where it's fisted in his shirt, holding so tight his knuckles have gone pale. "Nothing," Mark repeats. "I'm just—" he trails off, waving a hand, but the other stays clenched shut.

"Hey," Eduardo says, and pulls Mark's hand loose a finger at a time. "It's too late to be nervous. Everything's perfect. You can relax now."

Mark makes a noise, half a laugh, and Eduardo leans down and kisses him again.

It was the last time Eduardo saw Mark before the dilutions. He stayed for another three days, and didn't see Sean the whole time. Mark followed him around, except when he was coding, and even then he checked for Eduardo every couple of hours. Eduardo had assumed he was lonely, and he'd liked the attention.

He went back to Harvard for almost four months, during which time he struggled to finish his senior year with the best record possible. Mark was the CEO, and a programmer besides; he could get away with being a dropout. Eduardo had to be good, had to have credentials, or there would be those whispers, asking if he was really qualified, if maybe there wasn't someone better, someone with more experience. He wasn't going to give Mark a reason to pull away from him.

He stuck with it even when Mark's phone calls drifted to every week, and then every other, and the emails came less often than that. He listened to Chris handle PR for a company from the opposite end of the country and helped when he could, and then they'd go out and drink and see movies and fall asleep in the same bed, because they were lonely and the only ones who knew what it was like.

Of course, none of it mattered.

He came back four months later and he didn't see Mark until after everything between them was gone, perverted by a lawyer who smiled at Eduardo like he was a child. Then everything moved painfully fast and painfully slow, and a four months absence turned into years, and phone numbers were deleted and that, after everything, was that.

Eduardo breathes out, feeling his throat catch again, even now.

The last prompt is hovering on the screen, and Dustin's hand is warm on his even while Dustin stares at the desk. Chris is sitting with Dustin, silent witness. Eduardo breathes in and sees it behind his eyes, waiting for his acknowledgement as if Mark is judging him from a distance.

Problem?

"Trust," Eduardo says, because it was.

Eduardo didn't trust Mark to value him, and Mark didn't trust Eduardo to stay, and to be good for Facebook. They were both right, in the end. Eduardo's stake in the whole mess is what it's always been: he betrayed Mark first, even if on a smaller scale; he's not responsible for Mark's actions but he does understand them.

It's been years, and he's not as afraid and he's not as hurt, and it's not difficult to understand Mark. It never was, except when Eduardo got too close.

After all, Eduardo froze the account because he was angry, and Mark had never been betrayed that badly. It's how he's always worked, revenge vital for maintaining the status quo, and threatening to write Eduardo out was the perfect plan. It would have shown Eduardo exactly how Mark felt: you threaten to destroy my company's funding, I threaten to destroy your involvement in my company. Quid pro quo.

Eduardo was young and naive, because he shouldn't have signed the papers without a lawyer, but Mark was just as stupid.

But he also never admits fault, not really, and he never would have said Eduardo wasn't supposed to sign. He wouldn't have admitted he expected Eduardo to catch it, not least because he's Eduardo, but also because Mark didn't expect Eduardo to trust him enough to sign without checking. Eduardo would've seemed paranoid to Mark, trying to manage every aspect of the company's growth instead of being happy it was just growing. Mark expected Eduardo to check those papers just as closely. And even that wasn't entirely his fault - he wouldn't have known he was the one person Eduardo would do, never mind sign, anything for, because Eduardo had never told him.

So it might have been entirely unintentional. But because Mark won't admit when he fucks up, if he fucks up he carries through. Eduardo knows Mark, and it makes sense - if something bad is going to happen, you have to prepare. He pulled away during the months before the dilutions because it was already done, and it was better to be the one least hurt when everything came crumbling down. And even that wasn't entirely his fault - he wouldn't have known he was the one person Eduardo would do, never mind sign, anything for, because Eduardo had never told him.

There's a reason Mark chose these particular moments for passwords, even if he clearly had different focuses than Eduardo. There's a reason he didn't include the depositions. He was willing to dredge up the worst of the two of them, their pettiness and selfishness and failures, but he won't remember their break up; Mark's own hard-coded version of denial.

Eduardo hears Dustin tap the keys quietly, one-handed, and then make a quiet sound. It's not even particularly happy, just a release, and then Eduardo opens his eyes to look at the code, laid bare and vulnerable before anyone who wants to see. It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would.

Chris must touch Dustin, because Eduardo can see Dustin look up, face brightening. "We finished!" Dustin says, trying for cheerful.

Chris nods, and stays very still, and asks, "What now?"

"We need to go to the hospital," Eduardo says, and clears his throat so his voice won't crack again.

Dustin and Chris are enormously confused, but Eduardo just shakes his head and refuses to answer any questions. Chris drives.

They get to Mark's room without being escorted, largely because the admissions nurse from earlier was still on shift and she couldn't hold up under Eduardo's familiarity and Dustin's charm.

Dustin has been talking loudly the whole way, warding off nerves, and Mark is still and quiet in the center of the bed when Chris opens the door.

Eduardo walks to the side of the bed, watching Mark's face and ignoring Chris as he hushes Dustin's questions.

"You can stop faking now. You already know we finished the program," Eduardo says, and there's nothing for a just a second, and then Mark's eyes blink open and look right at him.

Dustin or Chris makes a noise, shocked. Mark doesn't look over. Eduardo says, "Money can buy a lot. It can buy you a nurse who's willing to lie for you."

Mark smiles a little, and has the nerve to look proud, as if Eduardo successfully met his expectations. Eduardo's back is knotting from tension, and he wants to hit Mark.

"What the fuck," Chris says. Dustin echoes him at a severely higher pitch.

Mark shrugs. "I really did get in a car accident. But Chris and Dustin had already called you by the time I woke up, and I figured I should take advantage of it."

Dustin is staring at Mark like he's been betrayed. "But - Facebook!"

"He wouldn't have let the code push fall through," Eduardo says tiredly, and flops into the uncomfortable bedside chair.

"I had a laptop delivered," Mark says. Dustin doesn't look reassured.

"You asshole," Chris yelps, apparently recovered enough. "You fucker, we were worried about you."

Mark says, "I had Karen tell you I would be fine."

"They say that even if the patient is expected to never wake up," Eduardo says.

"You knew," Chris says, craning to look at Eduardo. "You're not surprised. You knew?"

"No," Eduardo says, sighing, and then, "Yeah, sort of. I mean - Dustin, back at the beginning, said it was like someone went in and renamed every important piece of the code so it wouldn't work. Why? And the comments - I've seen Mark code. Typing all that shit in between the actual code isn't something he'd do. It'd be too inefficient."

Mark's mouth quirks — he either hasn't noticed that every single one of his closest friends hates him or he's decided not to care. Dustin is still standing in one spot, mouth partly open. "I logged into the network the first night I woke up in here. Dustin and Chris called you from a work phone, and as soon as I saw you had bought a plane ticket—" He shrugs. "I knew Dustin would get in past the first security measures, and the rest of it I had to do quickly. It was sloppy."

Dustin is shaking his head. "But - the flash drive. It was in your office!"

"Laurel," Mark says, shrugging. "I had to bribe her with an extra month of vacation, but she picked it up from me and just went in early and dropped it in the drawer before you started digging around."

"But how did you know he was faking?" Chris asks Eduardo, ignoring Mark entirely.

"His sister," Eduardo says. "If he really were hurt his whole family would be here. Randi left because he pissed her off. Also, it was odd that we only ever got to talk to one nurse. Hospitals usually have several on a rotation."

Chris' face twitches, and he looks to the door, and Mark says, "No, Chris, leave her alone."

"Lying to us about this, helping you pretend to be in a coma - when we came by, what, did she drug you?"

Mark says, "I asked her to."

"That's illegal. She should lose her license," Chris snaps, and leaves the room. Dustin stares between him and Mark for a moment and then snarls at Mark and follows Chris.

"That's not fair," Mark says to the empty doorway. "I paid her to do it."

"Chris is angry at her because there's nothing he can do to you that would make any of this better. He can at least get her fired," Eduardo explains, and Mark nods slowly.

"You can't let him do that," he says, and Eduardo laughs.

"She'd deserve it," Eduardo says, "but I'll tell Chris you want to talk to him and you can convince him not to." He stands up.

"Eduardo," Mark says, and sits forward.

"No," Eduardo says incredulously. "Just - no, Mark. None of this is okay, you know that?" He looks over at Mark again. "By the way, you should've gotten her to drug you the second visit, too. I know what you look like when you're trying desperately to hold still."

Mark just looks back at him, and Eduardo shakes his head and goes to search out Chris.

---

Karen doesn't get fired, but only because Chris reluctantly decides that the stink over Mark's faked coma would be worse than letting one misguided, easily bribed healthcare worker off the hook. Not many people have a couple million to throw at a nurse, and she's retiring on it anyway, so it seemed mostly like a moot point.

Eduardo doesn't find that out until almost two days later, of course, because he goes back to the hotel, gets spectacularly drunk on hundreds of dollars of wine, and passes out for the next 36 hours. He doesn't dream about Mark, because he doesn't dream at all.

When he wakes up around noon on Sunday he starts packing, debating if there's any further he can go than Singapore. Probably not, but he checks on Google anyway.

Eduardo tenses all over, panicking, when there's a knock on the door. He freezes, waiting, and the knock comes again.

"Come on, it's me," Chris calls, and Eduardo moves quietly to the door and checks before he lets Chris in.

Chris looks at him wryly. "Avoiding Mark?"

"Do you blame me?" Eduardo retorts.

"No," Chris says bitterly. "I was, too."

Eduardo raises his eyebrows.

"Mark came over last night. He wouldn't leave. Dustin gave up and forgave him, and this morning I came downstairs to Mark on my couch opposite Dustin, having some heart to heart."

"Heart to heart?" Eduardo repeats, unsure if he's supposed to be laughing. Neither Mark or Dustin is the type.

"I don't know," Chris says, and tips his head back against the wall. "Whatever it was, they wouldn't talk in front of me."

"I'm sorry," Eduardo offers into the silence.

Chris smiles, pinched. "I think that's my line. We dragged you all the way over here for this shit."

"You can't control what Mark does," Eduardo reminds him. "Even I couldn't."

Shrugging, Chris wanders over to the hotel bed. He taps Eduardo's suitcase, half-full with clothes folded inside. "You're leaving."

"I don't live here any more," Eduardo says, but it feels like a flimsy excuse with the expression Chris gives him.

Chris sighs out agreement and sets the luggage on the floor, laying back on the bed and groaning.

Eduardo sprawls back next to him, patting Chris' stomach through his t-shirt. They both stare up at the ceiling, breathing quietly.

"You can stay here," Eduardo offers finally.

Chris laughs a little. "And be kicked out of my own house? No. I'm going back tonight, and Dustin and Mark can get out." He turns his head, and Eduardo looks back at him. "You should come stay until you leave, instead. I don't know why we left you in the hotel this whole time."

"Because I'm childish and wanted my own space," Eduardo reminds him, without heat. "But I'd like to stay with you."

"Hey," Chris says, and smiles a little. "So you'll miss us, too."

"Yes," Eduardo says, sighing, and looks back up at the ceiling. "Why do you think he did it?"

"Uh, which part?" Chris says.

"This," Eduardo says, snorting. "The program, and wanting to bring me over."

"You don't know?" Chris asks, politely disbelieving.

Eduardo breathes out. "I was looking for a reason more positive than 'he's still a self-centered asshole who wanted to make sure I remembered him.'"

"I think he wanted your attention," Chris says slowly. "Which you've already figured out. I also think he wanted to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Eduardo asks. "There wasn't anything in there that I don't remember. It was just exhausting."

Chris frowns at him. "There wasn't anything about this that—" he stops, and waves a hand around. "I don't know, surprised you?"

Eduardo shrugs awkwardly. "Not really. Except maybe that he remembered all of it."

"And you don't—" Chris stops, dragging a hand through his hair. "No, of course you don't." Eduardo frowns at him questioningly, but Chris just shakes his head. "I think I should go," he says quietly. "I have people to kick out of my house. You should come over this evening. I'll call you."

Eduardo nods silently, and stares at the door even after it's closed.

---

Dustin and Mark are both gone when Eduardo gets to Chris' that evening. Chris lets him in and shows him around, while Eduardo makes the appropriate appreciative noises. It's modern and clean and feels safe, and Chris has Eduardo set his bag in a guest room before coming down to sit at the kitchen bar while Chris cooks.

Chris doesn't bring up that afternoon, and he only says Dustin went home with Mark after Eduardo asks him about it.

"Are you two—?" Eduardo trails off.

Chris smiles a little. "We've fought worse. It's okay."

"I was looking at flights," Eduardo says, and doesn't mention that they weren't dating during those other fights. "I should go back soon."

"About that," Chris says, and sighs, and turns off the stove. "Dustin told me something."

"What?" Eduardo says, with dread.

Chris laughs a little. "It's not that bad, honest. Dustin just pointed out that you should probably stay until Mark's removed all of the comments from the code."

"Oh," Eduardo says. "So I can make sure he actually does remove all of it."

"Exactly," Chris says, and turns to grab plates. Eduardo stands up to help, but Chris gestures for him to stay put. "I could look through it, of course, but I thought you'd want to make sure yourself."

Eduardo nods, and takes the plate Chris hands to him.

---

Chris drives Eduardo in with him the next morning. Mark is already there, in his office, and a couple of the employees that have seen Eduardo over the past couple of days nod to he and Chris.

Knocking on Mark's office door before swinging it open, which is really only a formality since Mark watched them walk up, Chris angles Eduardo in and shuts the door behind them. Dustin is sitting on the edge of Mark's desk, biting his lip and looking at them pleadingly.

"Good morning," Eduardo says, since nobody else is going to make the first move.

Chris' shoulders come down a notch, and Mark nods at Eduardo.

"Hi," Dustin says, too brightly, but he's watching Chris.

"I'm going to borrow your couch and do some work," Eduardo tells Mark, and then sits down, getting out his computer. There's scrambling as Dustin slides off the desk, approaching Chris hesitantly, but Chris gives in, expression clearing, before Dustin even gets to him. So, when Dustin does get within reach, he grabs Chris and hauls him in to kiss him, which Chris flails about, flushing and staring through the glass walls afterwards, where every employee is entirely used to ignoring anything that occurs in Mark's office and isn't even looking their way.

"Let's go visit your office," Dustin suggests loudly, and hauls Chris out the door, but he gives Eduardo a warning look before they're out of sight, which Eduardo finds offensive - he's not the social liability, here.

"I wasn't expecting that," Mark says suddenly, watching them go. He's darting Eduardo looks from the corner of his eye, and he hurriedly stares down at his computer when Eduardo catches him.

"I was expecting it a lot earlier," Eduardo counters, and immerses himself in work.

It takes quite a bit of effort, at first, to ignore Mark's familiar sounds and the faint echo of business going on behind him in the main office, but Eduardo finally ends up lost in a disastrous Excel document, and spends two hours trying to interpret what each sheet means, never mind column.

He jumps when Chris pokes his head in; Mark only looks up, mildly annoyed.

"Uh, hey," Chris says. "Just checking in."

"Yes, we're both still alive," Mark says.

Chris scowls but otherwise ignores him. "Do you want to go out for lunch in a couple of hours? Where?" he asks Eduardo, and Eduardo shrugs and tells him to pick the place.

Mark makes an irritated noise when he leaves, but ducks his head back down and keeps working. Eduardo is fighting the urge to check he actually is working on removing the comments, but he's not quite that controlling; and besides, Mark is doing little typing and a lot of clicking, so it appears he is.

Eduardo checks after lunch, sneaking into Mark's office before him and waking the computer up. It's the first of the three documents, and Mark's a little less than halfway through. Eduardo takes a deep breath, and clicks around until he manages to get the computer back into sleep mode, and then he settles back onto the couch before Mark can come in with Dustin.

Chris hadn't actually invited Mark to join them, but Dustin had looked pitiful until he'd agreed to let Mark come. Mark had assumed he was included from the beginning, and was ready to go as soon as Chris stuck his head in for Eduardo.

The lunch was stiff and uncomfortable, and too tense to be boring. Dustin had chattered about something, leaving the appropriate gaps where Mark was supposed to insert commentary about the topic and Dustin himself, but Mark remained stubbornly silent until the conversation wandered into Facebook territory. Dustin and he had ended up talking to each other, and Chris had hovered over Eduardo, and finally Eduardo had dragged Chris out of there early.

"I'm sorry," he says, as they walk slowly back to the office. "You and Dustin shouldn't have us doing this to you."

Chris shakes his head and bumps his shoulder into Eduardo's. "It's all right. Dustin and I are fine when you two aren't around."

"I'm booking a flight for Thursday afternoon," Eduardo says. "It shouldn't take Mark more than a day per document, and then I'll have plenty of time to pack and get to the airport."

Chris nods, staring at the sidewalk.

"I really am sorry," Eduardo says, leaving him at his office, which is considerably closer to the front than Mark's. "This sucks for you."

Shaking his head, Chris says, "We'll survive. We all will. Been through worse."

Eduardo grimaces instead of smiling, and darts into Mark's office to check his progress.

That evening, Chris takes Eduardo and Dustin takes Mark at around six.

"We really are worried, leaving you two alone," Chris says. "And we're neither of us willing to stay until midnight to make sure you don't kill each other."

"It's fine," Eduardo says. He's exhausted, honestly. Chris is good, though - they watch an hour of TV while they eat the pizza they picked up on the way, and then Chris lets Eduardo go upstairs and crash with nothing more than the customary worried look.

---

He gets to wake up and do the same thing the next day, except that Mark buries himself with his headphones and actually can't spend the whole day working on the documents - there's an emergency with the site load or something, Eduardo was actively trying not to listen - and Mark devotes a good three hours to that. He skips lunch, which Chris looks relieved about.

Dustin and Chris really are doing okay without Mark around - Dustin is expressive and Chris is cranky with the wait staff as usual - and Eduardo is glad that once he leaves again they, at least, will be happy.

Mark doesn't leave the office the rest of the day, so Eduardo has to ask him how far along he's gotten.

This involves getting up and walking over to his desk to get his attention. When Mark does notice him, peripheral vision only barely functioning, he jumps and jerks his head around, looking at Eduardo.

"Sorry," Eduardo says, ingrained, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No," Mark says, and clears his throat uncomfortably. "No, it's fine. What?"

"I wanted to know how close you are to being complete," Eduardo says.

Mark frowns. "I had to do actual work this morning."

"I know," Eduardo says, thinly patient. "I'm only asking."

"Beginning of the second document," Mark says shortly. "I can work on it tonight if you're in that much of a hurry. It doesn't matter, though, you don't leave until Thursday."

"You looked up my flights," Eduardo says, unsurprised.

Mark looks derisive and doesn't answer.

"I was just asking," Eduardo repeats, feeling as if he needs to defend himself. "If you do need to do more work I can go through some of the comments and help."

"No, you can't," Mark says. "You don't know what's code and what's comments."

"I can figure it out," Eduardo says tensely. "Since I'm pretty sure I could just delete any line containing my name."

Mark tightens his jaw and doesn't answer, but this was apparently the end of their cease-fire and everything goes a little sideways from there.

By the end of the day they can't look at each other without snapping, and after Mark raises his voice, yelling as he tells Eduardo in very polite terms, really, he just thinks Eduardo should know this about the absurd number of lines of code that go through with every code push, never mind enormous site upgrades, so the sheer volume of the size of the files Mark is dealing with is beyond him, after all of that Chris comes, whisks them out of Mark's office and out of the employees' very curious gazes, and puts them in a conference room in the very back of the building.

"Neutral ground," Chris says warningly, glaring at them. "Don't make me put Dustin in here."

But Chris does have to put Dustin in there, because now Eduardo wants to yell, too, and then Laurel comes by near the end of the day and gets torn apart by Mark, which she handles very well until Eduardo, as she leaves, tells her in a low tone just how wonderful a girl she is, with how she willfully deceived two of her bosses and Eduardo, who flew in from literally halfway around the globe, not to mention the participation in committing felonies; then she flees, white-faced, and won't come near the conference room for the rest of the day.

Chris comes with Dustin, who he sets in the corner in the very obvious role of referee, and very tensely tells Eduardo that evening that he should probably check back into a hotel, just so they can all get some much-needed distance from each other.

Eduardo is powerlessly furious with the entire world by this point, and agrees with too much venom.

---

Wednesday starts with a rehash of the same argument from yesterday, as Mark tersely informs Eduardo he hasn't finished the second document.

Eduardo bites his tongue halfway through, because they're not accomplishing anything by this, except possibly inciting Chris to homicide. Dustin won't even look either of them in the eye, which is not improving Chris' mood.

"Okay, look," Dustin says, after lunch where even the waitress wouldn't talk directly to Mark or Eduardo because of their expressions, and he drags Eduardo into Chris' office. "I'm sick of this."

"My apologies," Eduardo says sarcastically, and tries to brush back past him.

"No," Dustin says, raising his voice. "Sit down and, god, would one of you listen to me?"

Eduardo stares at him for a moment, and then looks at Chris for help, but Chris stares back levelly, unsympathetic.

"Fine," Eduardo says, and takes a couple of deep breaths. "What is it?"

"You should talk to Mark about the comments," Dustin says. "Not yell or fight about when he'll be done, but about the whole thing."

"There's nothing to talk about," Eduardo says. "He gets angry every time I so much as mention the code."

"Do you know why he did it?" Dustin asks bluntly.

"What?" Eduardo says, and shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Dustin says slowly, as if to a small child.

"Why?" Eduardo says, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Because he wanted to know if you remembered all of it," Chris says. Dustin looks at Chris and then nods emphatically.

"And he's only being a bitch because he's surprised," Dustin says.

They both stare at Eduardo expectantly.

"What?" Eduardo repeats, louder.

Dustin looks disgusted, and Chris drops his head into his hands. "You're both insecure morons," Dustin informs Eduardo.

"Okay, fine. He's surprised I remember," Eduardo says, feeling guilty for snapping at them, "but why? Of course I remember! I was—" but his voice sticks, and he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Dustin stares at him. "Get it?"

"Get what?" Eduardo sighs.

Dustin rolls his eyes. "You love him," but Eduardo glares at him darkly enough he shuts his mouth, scowling.

Chris says quietly, "He obviously remembers, too. He couldn't have written it otherwise."

Eduardo stares between them, and then shakes his head.

"Yes," Dustin says, throwing his hands up. "You're both idiots, but Mark's proven you think the same way."

"No," Eduardo says, and shakes his head again. "Look, I'm going back to the conference room."

Dustin looks frustrated and a little betrayed, and Eduardo keeps his head ducked as he walks out.

He's thinking about it now, though, and he watches Mark the rest of the afternoon. He catches Mark doing the same thing, and by the end of the day it's so commonplace that neither of them bother to acknowledge the eye contact; they just blink and look away from each other. Early evening Eduardo gets an email from Chris.

Dustin and I are going home, it says.

Could you stay at the hotel again tonight?

Chris' disappointment has always been easy to get a handle on, so Eduardo texts him yes and then leaves early, walking out of the offices. He's pretty sure Mark spins in surprise, watching him go, but Eduardo is tired and he can't handle all night with Mark without Dustin or Chris around.

He doesn't drink when he gets back to the room. Alcohol has lost its appeal as his twenties progress, and he's never enjoyed dealing with Mark when he's hung over. There's only one day left, and then he'll drink himself to sleep on the plane.

He's still sort of expecting Chris or maybe Dustin, so the knock isn't surprising. He opens it, unthinking, and then stops and stares.

"Eduardo," Mark says, standing at his door.

"Mark," Eduardo parrots back, automatically.

"I wanted to see you before you left." Mark's chin comes up; he's still the only person Eduardo's ever met who offers acquiescence through a show of defiance.

Eduardo stares at him, uncomprehending, before he abruptly catches up. "Oh, no."

Mark sets his jaw.

"You're seriously here for that?" Eduardo says, quiet. "Can't you find anyone in the entire state of California, anyone besides me? How many clubs are there around here?"

Mark doesn't answer.

Eduardo continues, "Or you could afford to hire someone every day for the next thousand years."

Mark doesn't answer, doesn't blink, doesn't look away.

"What do you want," Eduardo says. "Answer me." Even that is giving in too much - no matter what Mark says now, Eduardo will agree.

They shouldn't be doing this.

"You're still angry," Mark says.

"Of course I am," Eduardo says. It seems like an understatement. He doesn't even know what he's referring to - he's angry about so many things.

"So make me fix it," Mark says, and steps forward.

They're less than a foot away from each other, and if Eduardo steps back Mark will follow and the door will shut behind them. He can hit Mark, punish him for all of it - Eduardo wants to swear or cry or just forgive him already, anything to make this all just go the fuck away, but all he can do is hit him.

He steps aside.

Mark skirts around him, letting Eduardo shut the door. Eduardo closes his eyes for a minute and then turns to face him.

Mark says, "I know my safe word."

"What does that mean?" Eduardo asks. He reaches up, touches the side of Mark's face. Mark is watching him warily.

"Nothing," Mark says, eyes shuttered. He flinches, a minuscule movement, when Eduardo's thumb brushes by the corner of his eye.

"Do you think I'm actually going to hurt you?"

Mark shrugs.

Eduardo realizes, with a sick, fascinated rush, that Mark would let him. He pulls his hand back and slaps Mark's cheek lightly. Mark closes his eyes. His skin turns faintly pink.

Eduardo slaps him open-palmed across the other cheek.

It's loud, and Eduardo's palm stings. He hates the way it feels and he wants to keep going. He hits him again, hard enough that Mark's head turns to the side. Mark's breath stutters, and his eyes stay shut.

Eduardo grabs his chin, pulls his face up. His thumb presses into the red skin; it goes pale around the pressure. "Look at me."

Mark opens his eyes, and Eduardo's breath catches. Mark is still there, still looking at him like he always did.

"Dustin told me something," Eduardo says.

"What?" Mark says, playing along obediently. His voice is flat, and his eyes shutter at the mention of Dustin.

Eduardo knows Dustin is wrong. He has to be - he's just being ridiculous since he's still mooning over Chris every time they see each other and Dustin wants to share that.

But Mark is standing here, asking for Eduardo to hurt him, and it's - it's normal, for them, but not like this.

He draws in a breath, shaky, and steps back. "Strip and lay face down on the bed."

Mark strips, dropping his clothes in a pile right by the edge of the bed. He sees Eduardo looking at them, though, and stoops for them.

"Leave them, it's all right," Eduardo says. Something is sticking in his throat.

Mark goes down on the bed. He turns his face away from Eduardo.

"I don't have anything," Eduardo says. "It was incredibly inconsiderate of you to just show up and assume I'd be willing to do this. I'm not prepared."

Shuffling his shoulders a little, Mark says, "In my bag."

Eduardo picks it up, sets it on the desk and unzips it. There's velcro straps, and they aren't the best but they should hook over the wooden posts at the head of the bed. There's none for Mark's ankles - they've never used them.

Eduardo takes the straps, loops them over the bed and takes Mark's left wrist, then his right.

Then he goes back to the desk and upends the bag. He can hear Mark twitch at the restraints.

Mark looks like he's brought everything he could fit in the bag. It's got more paddles than Eduardo's ever used, and a crop. Knives, and Eduardo thumbs the scalpel cover and hisses to himself. Fuck, if Mark's had someone use these on him—

There are butt plugs in the front compartment, finger and full-sized vibrators, condoms, lube, clamps.

Eduardo takes one of the light leather paddles, kneels next to Mark. He sets it on Mark's back, so Mark can feel what it is.

Mark's breathing doesn't change, an easy in and out, and Eduardo picks it back up and smacks him lightly with it, both thighs.

Making a quiet noise, Mark shifts against the bed like he does when he's getting hard.

"Have you had anyone use those knives on you?" Eduardo asks conversationally.

"Why?" Mark asks. His face is still turned away.

Eduardo scratches across his shoulders. "Answer me."

"No, I haven't," Mark says reluctantly, clenching his fists before relaxing.

"So why did you bring them," Eduardo asks, "if you've never used them?"

"You might want to use them," Mark answers. Eduardo scratches him again, just to watch the skin turn red. Mark's shoulders push up into it.

"Have I ever made you think I'm interested in knives?"

Mark doesn't answer. He sounds like he's breathing as quietly as possible, like Eduardo will forget he's there.

"Look at me," Eduardo says. Mark shakes his head. Eduardo throws the paddle across the room, where Mark should be able to see it hit the wall and fly to the floor. Mark jumps. "Look at me," Eduardo repeats, and grabs a handful of hair to turn his head.

Mark is glaring ineffectively when he meets Eduardo's eyes. He works his jaw, gritting his teeth and jutting his chin out stubbornly. He looks - Eduardo doesn't want to see him like this.

Leaning down, Eduardo kisses Mark's shoulder. Mark jerks like when Eduardo slapped him. Eduardo kisses him again.

"Why are you here?" Eduardo asks. He doesn't expect an answer, so he's not disappointed.

He nudges Mark's chin up, tapping with fingers until Mark's head is craned around. It's awkward to kiss him, and he can't do more than brush their lips together. Mark makes a noise and tries to pull away.

Eduardo grabs another handful of hair and moves him back, licking across his mouth and biting at his jaw, down behind his ear where he sucks, skin still so familiar.

Mark makes a wounded noise.

Eduardo reaches up, grabs one of Mark's wrists and undoes it, shoving until he rolls onto his back. Mark flails, taken by surprise, and Eduardo laces their fingers together, holding their hands above Mark's head and kissing him for real.

Mark twists his head away, actively avoiding him, and Eduardo catches his chin and holds him still. "You won't kiss me?" he asks, low and dangerous. Mark still doesn't answer. Eduardo hates when he's quiet.

"Fine," Eduardo says quietly, and loosens the other strap. "If you move, you leave," he tells Mark, and then kisses down to his belly.

Mark's breathing is odd, out of control and all over the place, and when Eduardo catches one of his knees to pull it up the other one crowds in, knocking Eduardo's side and pressing Eduardo in closer. Mark's eyes, when Eduardo looks, are squeezed shut.

Eduardo kisses the inside of his thigh, and says, "I was in love with you, you know."

He can feel how Mark goes tense. He doesn't particularly care - he's not afraid of destroying what they have. There's nothing left to preserve.

"You should have known. Chris did. Dustin figured it out the other day." He scratches his fingers along the back of Mark's knee, exactly how Mark likes, and Mark makes a low sound.

"I would've done anything for you," Eduardo says. "I thought I would. Turns out I was willing to do anything except step aside. Except let you have anything more important than me."

Mark's back arches, his free heel digging into the bed. Eduardo slaps the inside of his thigh a couple of times in quick succession. Mark twists his head to the side and says tightly, "Don't."

"Maybe this was all my fault," Eduardo says slowly, ignoring him, and drags his fingernails down the skin under his palm. Scratches on the inside of the leg always raise up, bright and vivid. Eduardo decides he does want to cut him open, right there, shallow cuts to lick clean and bandage back up. "You never would've noticed anything," he continues. "Maybe I should've caught myself before it got that far. I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning."

Mark pants in through his mouth and Eduardo leans down to mouth over his cock. He licks at the head, enough to get it wet, then presses his lips to Mark's lower belly and repeats, "But I was in love with you."

"Stop it," Mark says, louder. His eyes are still squeezed shut; his body's still strung tight.

"Why?" Eduardo says. "You like hearing me talk. I'm just telling you how I felt. You came here to let me take my frustrations out, you should know what those frustrations are."

"Stop," Mark hisses.

"Look at me," Eduardo counters. "I confess my undying love and you get angry with me?"

Mark's eyes open, and the expression is still there, curdled and awful and stronger than ever Eduardo's seen it. "Fuck you, Eduardo," he snarls.

Eduardo slaps his cock, says, "Shut up, Mark," and Mark says, scrambled, "Perl, stop it, Perl," and Eduardo releases his leg, shocked.

"Why?" he asks, before Mark can draw away. His stomach feels a couple moments away from cramping, his mouth tastes like sick and he's still just wishing Mark would fucking tell him what he wants. "This isn't painful. I can slice you up with knives but I can't talk to you?"

"Get off of me," Mark says evenly. Eduardo drops down to his elbows above Mark's shoulders, catching the side of his face with a palm.

"Dustin and Chris think you were in love with me, too," he says.

Mark gets his arms up and shoves. Eduardo was never under any illusions about how vulnerable Mark really is, but it's still disconcerting to go from leaning over someone to flat on your back on the end of the bed.

"Fuck you," Mark repeats lowly, and grabs for his clothes. "Why the fuck are you talking about this? I'll let you slap me, slice me, like you say, but you want to do that."

"Why is it worse?" Eduardo asks softly. He doesn't move, and when Mark grabs his jeans and looks over his shoulder at Eduardo he looks surprised to see him still lying there, what little expression his face can show when it's all twisted in on itself like that.

"It's cruel," Mark seems to settle on, and pulls his jeans up, fingers going on the button.

"How is it worse than anything else I've ever done to you?" Eduardo persists.

"Because you're just saying it to fuck with my head!" Mark yells, fed up and furious. Eduardo stares at him. "There's no reason to make shit up except you're trying to fuck with me." His voice goes quiet again. "You've done a lot to me, but you've never lied to me. You've never deliberately tried to screw me up."

"I wasn't lying," Eduardo says, and when he sits up Mark looks away from him, grabbing for his shirt. Eduardo catches his arm.

Mark won't look at him. "Mark," Eduardo says, and he's never wanted Mark to look at him, to listen to him, more than right now. It's too important to demand it from him. "Mark," he says again. "I'm not lying."

Mark makes a derisive sound and pulls his arm away.

"God damn it, Mark, what do you want?" Eduardo yells, standing up. "I feed you, I fuck you when it's convenient, I—" but he can't say the rest.

"You give me money when I ask for it?" Mark says, mouth quirking down. "That worked out."

"Tell me Chris was wrong," Eduardo says. "So I can go back to Singapore and not deal with your shit anymore. Tell me he was wrong when he said your bullshit the past couple weeks was a cry for attention." And, quietly, "Tell me what you want."

"I'm not going to tell you what I want," Mark says, with icy precision, "and I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear."

"I loved you," Eduardo says.

"Stop saying that," Mark snaps.

"I still love you," Eduardo says.

Mark's bag drops to the floor with a thud.

Eduardo refuses to hold his breath. Mark is shocked - he doesn't like unknown variables throwing themselves at him. He'll get over it.

"And I wanted you to know that," Eduardo says quietly, when Mark still refuses to move. "Because you're right, I've never lied to you. I'm still fucking pissed, and I probably always will be, but you've screwed me over more times than I can count and it's not going away, so if you're going to keep doing it you deserve to know just what exactly it is you're doing to me."

"It was convenient," Mark says finally. His voice sounds strangled.

"So you said," Eduardo says tiredly, sitting nerveless on the edge of the bed.

Mark turns and looks at him, actually looks at him, chin down and eyes open and mouth shut. Eduardo looks back. "Wardo," Mark says softly.

"Come here, Mark," Wardo says. He smiles crookedly and says, "That's not an order, you know. It's not anything. But you should."

Mark steps forward, and Eduardo tilts his head back to be kissed.

---

Mark won't stop kissing him. Eduardo can sympathize. Somewhere between getting naked again and getting under the covers Mark ended up sprawled on top of him with their ankles tangled so far up together that Eduardo has no feeling in his toes.

"Why didn't you say anything then?" Mark asks, sucking at Eduardo's neck. Eduardo knows he already has a bruise - Mark's been at it for almost five minutes, and it's almost unbearably painful every time he sets his teeth back in for a better grip.

He's claiming, though, the first time he's ever done it, and Eduardo isn't going to tell him no.

"I'm not the one who said it was a good idea because we already knew we didn't hate each other," Eduardo says, and scratches up and down Mark's spine so he doesn't take it the wrong way.

"What did you expect me to say?" Mark asks, disgruntled. His teeth worry the hickey again, and Eduardo cringes up at the ceiling. He scoots his head a little, trying to angle Mark to a different spot.

"You could've just said you were interested," Eduardo says, blinking in thought. He's pretty sure there isn't anything Mark could've said that would've made Eduardo turn him down.

"I was shy," Mark says, deadpan, and either takes the hint or decides the purpled area has been abused enough, because he moves down an inch and sets about on another one. His nose nudges against the one above it, and Eduardo almost hisses in pain. "You were a year older, people liked you, and you actually knew what you were doing."

"Lack of confidence is something I've never associated with you," Eduardo says.

"Aren't I special," Mark says drily, and hums when Eduardo grabs a leg to anchor him more securely on top. He's hard against Eduardo's leg, but Eduardo doesn't want to move. They can rub off against each other if it gets too desperate - vanilla sex can be fun.

"You realize," he says, when Mark is on the other side of his neck and working on hickey number four, "Dustin will probably demand a double wedding."

Mark detangles enough to kick him.

---

Eduardo trails Mark into the offices the next morning. Nobody even looks at them anymore. Laurel skirts around Eduardo like she has since he bitched at her, at least until Eduardo sighs, and tilts his head, and smiles reluctantly, and she smiles back tentatively, relieved. Then she darts a look between Mark and Eduardo and her eyes go wide.

"Stop flirting with my assistant," Mark says loudly, scowling at them. "Laurel, get out."

She smirks at him, and turns to leave with a superior set to her shoulders.

"I hate her," Mark says, loudly enough for her to hear.

"I think you like her quite a lot," Eduardo corrects lowly. "Warning me not to flirt."

Mark taps something out on his desktop. Eduardo goes around, sits on the corner of his desk. "Hey," he says, nudging their knees together. "You know I'm teasing."

"Your flight leaves in three hours," Mark says abruptly.

"Yeah," Eduardo says slowly. "I was thinking I'd get a later one."

"Oh," Mark says, and his face does something complicated.

"Is that all right?" Eduardo asks. He refuses to feel insecure - they've gone through too much to keep dancing around each other now, so he adds, "I really want to stay."

Mark's face smooths out, and he smiles slightly. "Yeah, Wardo, yeah, that's - I want you to stay."

Eduardo grins back at him. Mark flushes when Eduardo leans forward, settling his hand over Mark's shoulder and brushing over his collarbone.

"Oh my god," someone breathes, and Eduardo jerks back.

Dustin and Chris are standing in the doorway, mouths open and gaping at them. Dustin is leaning back against Chris like he'd fall down otherwise. Chris has a hand clutching the wall.

"Okay, I don't think it's that dramatic," Eduardo says. "Be realistic."

"Oh my god," Dustin says again, and launches himself forward.

"Are you two—" Chris starts.

"Aww," Dustin says. "Look at you."

"We aren't anything," Mark says defensively. "Nothing's changed."

Chris looks at Eduardo warily. Eduardo shrugs, and shakes his head, and smiles. It sounds bad, but that's just Mark. Eduardo knows what he means. And besides, Mark's leg is still squirming its way between Eduardo's.

---

Mark gets twitchy around four.

He'd suffered through lunch, only glowering a little when Dustin got excited and tried to initiate a foursome of footsie. Chris had lifted his feet up, Mark had tried to kick Dustin's shins, and Eduardo had nudged Dustin's feet with his own toes, because whatever, Dustin can be adorable and Eduardo's a sap, too.

Mark had looked like he was working himself into jealousy at Dustin getting the attention, at least until Eduardo had grabbed his wrist and traced a thumbnail back and forth over the veins in his wrist. Then he'd sort of relaxed, until he was lazing sideways and Eduardo had to make himself let go. Chris had a look that promised retribution if they so much as thought about sex in semi-public spaces. Dustin was staring between the two of them like he was realizing he'd seen this behavior before, and often, which he had. He doesn't seem like he minds the idea that much, even when he starts darting looks over at Chris, and that's—

Eduardo's not sure where that thought is supposed to go, so he lets himself derail.

The code is almost done. Eduardo had asked, partway through the afternoon, how it was taking so long to remove the text from three files if he'd managed to copy-paste it in over the course of less than a day from a hospital bed.

Mark had leaned towards his computer, hunching in on himself.

"Mark," Eduardo had said, disbelieving.

"You were going to leave," Mark had explained rapidly, looking mortified and defiant. "You didn't notice anyway."

"You've been deleting text from the same files for days," Eduardo had said, wonderingly, "rather than just talk to me."

"Rather than let you go," Mark had corrected, and he hadn't even flinched, like that was just something people said, all the time.

"You're such a manipulative asshole," Eduardo had told him.

"You're kind of easy," Mark had replied, tilting his chair back and smiling over at Eduardo.

But by late afternoon he gets twitchy.

"What's wrong?" Eduardo asks, closing out of his laptop and staring over. Mark is shifting from side to side, and his hands are tapping patterns on his desk.

Mark stills, but before Eduardo has to ask again he spins in his chair and says, "I'm done."

Taken aback, Eduardo stares. He'd guessed Mark would continue stalling on the code files for a few more days, to give himself time to be sure of things. In all fairness, it's what Eduardo probably would've done. That Mark both finished and admitted it is something Eduardo never honestly expected from him.

"Do you want to leave early?" Eduardo offers.

Mark breathes in, and then nods sharply.

They get plenty of looks leaving. Coming in together was one thing, but leaving early? With nobody scowling and without Dustin and Chris?

Mark glares at everyone who dares look at them as they pass. Before they get to the doors, Eduardo catches Mark's shoulder.

"What?" Mark asks, surprised, and Eduardo grabs his chin and kisses him firmly, just once. Then he nudges him on towards the doors.

In the parking lot, Mark says, "Why?"

"I wanted to see if you'd let me," Eduardo answers. Mark looks off to the side, smiling to himself about something. Eduardo doesn't ask.

They bicker on the ride home about food - Mark doesn't want to worry about it until they're hungry later, and Eduardo doesn't want to have to worry about it later when there are other things he wants to focus on.

In the entryway of the house, Eduardo almost runs into Mark, who's stopped in the middle of the hall and is looking at Eduardo. "Are we still—"

He doesn't finish, frowning, and Eduardo reaches up to touch the side of his face. Mark turns his face into it, letting Eduardo hold up his dreadfully heavy head, fingers pressed behind his ears. He looks calm, like Eduardo feels.

"Attention whore," Eduardo says.

Mark looks at him, eyes slitted. His breathing is already slower, deepening. Eduardo feels the answering shudder building along his spine.

"For me," Eduardo clarifies, and Mark closes his eyes, lips curving pleased like a secret in Eduardo's palm.

End.

if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one