《Events after The Great Game》vernon

28、politics AU fic:

　　fic: the heartache and the hope
　　fic: the heartache and the hope
　　fandom: the social network
　　pairing: mark/eduardo
　　notes: for the tsn_kinkmeme prompt "Eduardo/Mark, political AU".
　　title is from Obama's victory speech, because i'm a pretentious liberal like that.
　　the boys work in a liberal president's administration. a couple plot points stolen from west wing. political knowledge is shaky at best (first year of a poli sci major = my stunning expertise)
　　also warning: mark is really, really mean to conservatives (and briefly, people from Harvard). like rude.you may be offended. BE WARNED.
　　--also, if you're a (social) conservative and you're reading slash, in the words of Ron,you really need to sort out your priorities.

　　The President brings him in to work on economic issues, and Mark hates him for about ten minutes.

　　Eduardo Saverin, economic advisor extraordinaire, idealistic prodigy, and- worst of all, a Brown graduate. Every Harvard cell of Mark's body- which isn't many, considering he sort of hated all the douchebags there, with their old money WASPy chiseled-cheekbones housekeeper-having rowboat-using selves- is in protest.

　　"So, Brown, huh," are the first words out of Mark's mouth when he meets Eduardo. Eduardo's unpacking his stuff out of his expensive leather briefcase, hair perfectly gelled. His suit looks expensive. Mark owns three suits, which he rotates and wears only on days when the President's in office. Otherwise he's in a hoodie and trousers, an off-putting combination, but no one says a word because he's a fucking genius and none of the idiotic citizens of this great nation would understand a thing the government did if Mark didn't write it in kindergarten terms and post it on the Internet.

　　"Yeah,you too" Eduardo's asking, wide-eyed and innocent, and it takes all of Mark not to smirk.

　　"Harvard," he says instead, putting a hand in his pocket. Eduardo nods.

　　"Didn't even know they studied economics, at Brown," Mark says casually. "Or did they just call the major 'socialism'"

　　Eduardo snorts, appreciatively. "Mark Zuckerberg, right I heard you were kind of a dick."

　　"My reputation precedes me."

　　"First of all, Brown's economics program is one of the most strenuous in the country, and I worked in high-level mergers for three years before this. I took down a company owned by a Harvard grad. He didn't even see it coming."

　　Mark shrugs grudgingly, and Eduardo continues, "Second, it's called a concentration, not a major, at Brown. Do your homework."

　　Dustin laughs, head popping up from over his cubicle. "I like you already," he says to Eduardo, and Eduardo salutes him jokingly.

　　"Tell me you smoked weed and had a drum circle at least once," Mark says, and Eduardo holds a shh-ing finger up to his lips, winks. Mark turns away, face hot for some reason.

　　He clicks around the computer for a second, and Eduardo's head pops over his cubicle.

　　"Mark. Lunch at one You have to show me around."

　　He never gets lunch. He has a PowerBar in his desk. Most people know, by now, not to ask him.

　　"Yeah," he says, staring determinedly at his computer screen, and Eduardo slaps the side of his cubicle and says, "Great!"

　　Mark definitely does not have to bite his lip to keep from smiling. Not at all.

　　---

　　Eduardo somehow worms his way into Mark's life, after that. It's not long before they're staying at the office until the wee hours of the morning, talking shit and spinning out ideas and writing half-coherent strategy emails to the POTUS that they end up unanimously deciding in the morning not to send. Eduardo sleeps at his desk, once, and Mark curls up on his couch. Eduardo gets his own office, because he's so special and visionary.

　　The summer in D.C. is blistering hot. The President goes on vacation, then a tour of the Middle East and then Europe and then southeast Asia, and Mark sleeps little, in lavish hotel rooms, curled on his side on the edge of king-sized beds. He emails Eduardo stats, data, ideas, and Eduardo emails him back, always cc-ing in the necessary people and signing off-

　　Eduardo Saverin
　　Economic Advisor to the White House

　　- and then in between, at night or early mornings, he gets texts.

　　saw you in the background on MSNBC yesterday. we're trying to be optimistic about the tiger countries' economies. smile more, okay for me.

　　or-

　　have you eaten eat. and no, red bull is not a food substance

　　Mark gets and sends the texts at odd hours, because of the time difference, and once when he's falling into bed at 3am, a little tipsy from a reception with the head of the EU, he texts Eduardo, ill-advisedly-

　　you should be here. can't work without you.

　　Eduardo doesn't respond for a while, and Mark stares at the text in the morning, head throbbing just slightly.

　　Finally he gets:

　　let's discuss the budget proposal when you get home.

　　He puts his head in his hands, because he has no fucking clue if there's any goddamn subtext in any of it. Maybe he wants there to be.

　　---

　　"You can't- the projections you put forth, how the fuck am I supposed to spin those Eduardo, we're not a socialist government. I know you're trying to go all Keynes on the economy because of the 2003 cuts but Christ,you don't think this is overkill"

　　Eduardo's laughing, forking up lo mein into his mouth. It's going on two am and the office is mostly dark.

　　"Okay, Mark. One, I have the President's approval. Two, I have the fucking CBO's approval. Three, I have a majority in both houses according to the majority and minority party leaders so I would love for you to try to tell the President your opinion. There's nothing to spin!"

　　Mark rolls his eyes, scrolling through the proposal. "I can't believe you got Ruford's approval," he says, and Eduardo grins.

　　"It was grudging,yeah, but there's a lot of good stuff in the bill for his district, and for the districts of most of the minority party members."

　　"Cunning," Mark says, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. "Didn't think you had it in you."

　　"You underestimate me so often," Eduardo sighs. Mark shrugs, and Eduardo's Blackberry buzzes.

　　"Fuck," he murmurs, staring at the screen, and Mark swallows a bite of chicken, sits up.

　　"What's wrong"

　　"Nothing," Eduardo says distractedly, putting the phone away and chewing his lip.

　　"Ruford rescind his approval and unleash the angry masses"

　　"No, it's just. Nothing. My sister's getting married."

　　"Ah,yes, I usually use profanity to express my pride and familial love."

　　"It's not that, it's just I'll have to go home. I don't have time for this."

　　"You can take a day off, Eduardo. It won't kill you."

　　Eduardo shoots him a look, and Mark shrugs. "Well, okay, I've never taken a day off, but my job is much more important than yours."

　　Eduardo snorts. "Yeah, because no one really cares about their economic futures."

　　"They only understand it when I write it up, so, really, it's my job to interpret it."

　　"I think we're both getting away from the point," Eduardo says, grinning. "It's Dustin who's more important than either of us. For what would this government be without Twitter"

　　"Absolute anarchy," Mark says dryly, and Eduardo laughs.

　　---

　　"I give them two months 'til they do it," Dustin murmurs to Chris the next day.

　　"Who," Chris says distractedly, reading over a press report. The briefing is going to be brutal today, because the fucking VP can't figure out what fucking country he's in before he starts talking.

　　"Mark and Eduardo, idiot," Dustin says. Chris looks up from the paper.

　　"Jesus, Dustin, just go do your job. Go write 140 characters of bullshit about the education access bill or I'll kill you."

　　Dustin makes a mocking face, turning away, and Chris grabs his arm.

　　"And don't talk about it, Dustin. We don't need that kind of scandal in this administration right now."

　　"Says the openly gay press secretary."

　　"I don't mean gay,you idiot. Inter-office sexual relationships. The White House being seen as a web of tangled steamy affairs. God, the Post would have a field day."

　　"Mmm, tangled steamy affairs, Chris, that's pretty descriptive. Thought about this a lot" he grabs Chris' hand, batting his eyelashes. Chris yanks his arm away, scowling.

　　"Yes, Dustin. That's the only reason I work here, to get closer to you."

　　"They won't keep us apart forever," Dustin calls as Chris storms off, muttering to himself over the packet.

　　Dustin shrugs, turning back to the computer. Pres: "Bill NEA will expand opportunities to low-income families in an exciting and unique way" Bill passed House now time 4 Senate!

　　He clicks "publish", leans back in his chair, and sighs. Ahh. All in a day's work.

　　--

　　Everything's going downhill. The minority leader is urging fucking "retribution" come Election Day, the President is at a 35% approval rating. Thirty five fucking percent! Chris is fielding questions about his political ideology, his religion, his fucking birthplace, for God's sake. Mark swears to God if he didn't work in government he'd be a fucking anarchist, because these goddamn people are too stupid to be members of a representative democracy.

　　Erica keeps rolling her eyes when she reads over his Internet releases, saying, "Mark, we all know how you feel about the general public, but we can't actually publish this elitist bullshit." He flicks her off defiantly, and she sighs, long-suffering, and hands him back the printed out report with nearly all of it scratched out in red pen.

　　One night there's a perfect storm of fucking awfulness. Chris is sick with a sore throat or the plague or something, the President's away, and Erica's in Pakistan, and Mark ends up, through some massive oversight, having to appear on a talk show. Not just any talk show. A talk show on fucking Fox.

　　"Mark Zuckerberg," Hannity says, drawing out the -berg like some flashing neon sign- Jew! Jew! Jew!

　　"What, exactly, do you do again, sir Explain it to the good people of America."

　　"I'm the President's online advisor, basically, I control the administration's web presence and online message. And hello to all the fans in Mexico! America, right It's your continent too, guys."

　　Colmes doesn't get it, laughs politely like the doormat he is, but Hannity's looking at him sharply. Mark sucks in a breath. He can feel himself getting fucking angry and he can't control it. This- this right here is why they keep him in a cubicle 90% of the time.

　　"Our debate tonight is going to be on social issues," Hannity continues, and it hurts Mark not to roll his eyes.

　　"Here we have Mary Winters, the regional east coast director of NOM."

　　The woman connected via satellite is blonde, hair held back in a headband like some demented Stepford bitch. She peers at Mark like he's a bug on her shoe. "Yes, hi, Sean, I'm from the National Organization for Marriage."

　　"Greatest misnomer ever," Mark mutters, and she purses her lips.

　　"Mr. Zuckerberg, there is simply no constitutional basis to give homosexuals the right to defile the sanctity of marriage. Where does it end If a man can marry another man, can I marry my dog"

　　"You've considered that, really" Mark says, and Hannity holds out his hands placatingly. Somewhere in the distance he can practically hear Chris sobbing.

　　"Mr. Zuckerberg, I'm trying to have a civil debate here," the woman says, a vein in her forehead twitching, and Mark leans back in his chair, grabs a pencil off the table and sticks it in his mouth.

　　"No,you're not. Ms. Winters- may I call you Ms. Winters" she tries to interject, and he talks over her. "What you're doing, Ms. Summers, is equating a human being with a dog. Now, in one sense you're right, because a dog can't choose to be a dog just like a man or woman can't choose to be gay, but in another, much larger, sense,you're absolutely wrong, because most physicians would agree the biological differences between human and canine render any sort of meaningful sexual connection impossible and frankly, just unsatisfying. Of course, I speak only for myself, and for the majority of United States citizens, and even most of the illegal aliens, if you'd ever manage to poll 'em. However, Ms. Springs, if that's what turns you on, go for it."

　　She gasps, and he breaks the pencil in half, in his mouth, gestures with both halves, and Hannity cuts to commercial.

　　There's a lot of whispering, and Colmes keeps staring at him. Mark stares right back. Pathetic little shit, he thinks.

　　"Can I go" he calls to the crowd, and a security guard appears behind his right shoulder. "Alright, alright, going," he says mildly, still chewing half of the pencil, sticking one of his hands in his suit pocket.

　　He takes a cab back up the Hill, and it hits him halfway through, and he spits the pencil out of his mouth. Fox News- it says- Fair and Bal

　　Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Just, fuck everything.

　　--

　　Eduardo calls him at 4 am. He's in China, doing some sort of conference with the People's Bank about debt.

　　"Jesus, Mark," he says by way of greeting, and Mark lets his head fall against his desk.

　　"Who let you out in public" Eduardo asks gently, and Mark laughs a tiny bit.

　　"It was stupid," he admits quietly, in a way he only can to Eduardo.

　　"Yeah, it was really fucking stupid, Mark. Any word on-" whether or not you're going to get your ass fired, the silence says.

　　"The President hasn't sent out any official word on the incident," Mark parrots wearily, and adds, "He hasn't contacted me. Wardo, I'm- fuck. I'm slightly more than nervous."

　　Eduardo sighs. "I know. Let's think about this. Yeah, the right wants your head on a stick, but you're a relatively insulated member of the cabinet. You've been with him since day one. You're known to be a prickly, socially awkward person. It was one comment."

　　"Prickly and awkward" Mark says. "And one comment which is being rebroadcast on every channel and Youtube and fucking- fucking Facebook. You know how this works."

　　"I know how it works," Eduardo repeats, sighing. "I'm trying to be positive here."

　　"If you had to make an official recommendation," Mark asks, heart in his throat because he's not quite sure he wants to know the answer. "What- would you-"

　　"Mark. You're an integral part of the team, and it's not my place anyway."

　　"But-" Mark says, pushing at him, because he knows Eduardo's not saying everything he wants to.

　　"Goddamnit, it's election season."

　　Mark exhales, spins in his office chair.

　　"It doesn't look good," he says quietly.

　　"Just, relax. The President isn't one to make rash decisions. It could work out."

　　"Could," Mark says with emphasis, with derision. "I don't like could."

　　"Well, it happened. Go to sleep, Mark, it's 4am. Go home."

　　Mark exhales and misses Eduardo. Not that he'll ever admit it.

　　"Night," he says.

　　"Night, Mark."

　　---

　　Eduardo grins at him from across the table when the President just gives him a verbal beatdown, says he needs a public apology before October and the rush of midterms. Mark meets his eyes for a second and has to look away.

　　"I'll leave you to Chris," the President says, "that should be enough punishment." The room laughs politely, and Chris narrows his eyes at him, pen behind his ear, laptop under one arm. I will kill you, he mouths, and Mark tries not to feel scared.

　　"Drinks, tonight" Eduardo says at six, wrapping his hands over the top of Mark's cubicle, messenger bag thrown over his shoulder. "I have a couple meetings, maybe at eight"

　　"I don't know if I should go out right now," Mark says. "It's still tenuous. The Hill is buzzing. Fucking vultures."

　　Eduardo nods, chewing his lip. "My place, then," he says decisively. "I'll email you."

　　Mark leans back in his chair, not sure why he's scared. It's either because he nearly got fired from the best job he's ever had or it's that he jerked off in the shower this morning thinking about Eduardo's ass. One or the other.

　　1345 Washington Avenue, the email reads, fifteen minutes later-

　　Eight pm. And, Mark- meaningful sexual connection between humans and canines Really

　　---

　　Mark shows up at Eduardo's apartment at 8:30 with a bottle of wine he's picked up on the way. He rings the doorbell, and nearly drops it when Chris opens the door.

　　"Fantastic,you're here," he says dryly, still semi-angry, letting him in, and Mark realizes that not just Chris is there. No, there's Dustin in the corner, talking with Chris' secretary, and Erica is grabbing a drink out of the refrigerator. Mark turns away. He does not want to talk to Erica. He is still far up on her shitlist.

　　Eduardo comes up to them, loose-limbed, cheeks flushed, shirt unbuttoned a little. Mark thrusts the bottle of wine at him.

　　"Hey," he says, wanting very acutely to leave. He can handle these people at work, because there's structure and he's above most of them. He can put in his noise-canceling headphones and write drafts of drafts until they go away.

　　"Come in, luckiest man in the world," Eduardo says, and pulls him into the room. Everyone lets out a general noise of approval when they see him, and Mark goes hot.

　　"Oh, Mark! Mark, I thought I'd never see you again!" Dustin yells, like an eighteenth century maiden, and they laugh. Mark nods, humoring them.

　　"I need a drink," he says, and everyone laughs again. Eduardo's grinning at him, all crinkly-eyed.

　　They celebrate that night, but in the end as the President's approval ratings sink yet lower, Mark starts to think he maybe should have just sacrificed himself. Then it's D-day, midterms, and Mark- well, all of them- are dying, slowly. Maybe that's melodramatic, but you know what, they all built their fucking lives around this and it's crumbling, so it's not.

　　---

　　The numbers are coming in fast and furious, all across the country. The President's into his second scotch, because the reporters weren't allowed in, and Erica's lips and fingers are covered in ink. She insists on writing first drafts in ink, and she keeps scratching stuff out as new results come in.

　　Mark's got his laptop on his knees, and he's clicking frantically from tab to tab, while scratching a groove in his arm with his other hand.

　　Dustin is curled in an office chair, laptop on the table, while Chris has his head bent over Erica's. He looks grim. Everyone looks grim.

　　"Incumbent Josh Whitford was just defeated in an extremely close race in Connecticut," CNN announces, and Dustin groans, putting his face in his hands.

　　Eduardo lets himself in, face pale, shadows under his eyes. He's been up for twenty hours, working on an economic proposal, that, if they lose (which they all knew, god they all fucking knew they'd lose) needs to be passed immediately in the lame-duck session or the newly Republican Senate is going to filibuster it until kingdom come.

　　"Connecticut" he says, and Mark nods numbly. He sits next to him, puts a hand on Mark's shoulder for a second, pulling out his Blackberry.

　　"Mr. President, sir," Eduardo says, and the President turns his head. Mark's known the guy for five years. He's terrified and exhausted and angry.

　　"I wrote up the first proposal; emailed it to your office. We're going to have an extremely productive session. We're going to bounce back."

　　The President just nods, slowly, heavily, and turns back to the TVs.

　　"You believe that" Mark asks bitterly. He knows politics is- it's a tough game,you don't win every day. He fucking knows that. But now that he thinks about it... he's won, every time, so far. This feels incredibly fucking shitty.

　　"Of course I do," Eduardo says. "Mark, it's midterms."

　　"I know, I know, but-"

　　"Everyone thinks this, they think it doesn't apply to them. Mark, even Reagan lost seats in '86."

　　"Even Reagan, our champion," Mark says bitterly, and Eduardo puts a hand on his arm.

　　"Fuck off, Eduardo," Mark says, shaking him off. He feels like a kid again, helpless, like he did when he watched his parents' marriage fall apart when he was twelve. He can't do anything about it, just watch the numbers come in on the screen. He could never do anything.

　　Mark refreshes MSNBC again, and misses the look Chris shoots Eduardo over his head. Eduardo stands up determinedly, grabs Mark's arm.

　　"We're going outside," he says, and Mark lets himself be dragged out of the room.

　　The hallway's dark. The President had sent everyone home after they'd lost three seats in California.

　　"Mark," Eduardo's saying, and Mark leans against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut. "Hey. Hey. It's okay."

　　"It's so not fucking okay," Mark says. "Do you understand that If we lose the House, healthcare's not going through in a million fucking years. And we can fucking forget about repealing DOMA. We'll probably extend the tax cuts until we become one giant sweatshop for China."

　　"That's nowhere in my projections," Eduardo says, laughing rustily, and he leans against the wall next to him. "I can't believe I ever thought you were an asshole," he says, to himself. "You care so much more than you let on."

　　"Shut up," Mark mumbles, and against the wall Eduardo takes Mark's hand in his. Mark freezes. It feels like he's slipping, slowly but inevitably, down a very long slide. Towards what, he's not sure.

　　"What are you doing," he says quietly, scared and anticipatory, and Eduardo pushes himself off the wall, leans against Mark. He's breathing against Mark's mouth, and Mark shudders.

　　"Wardo, I should-" he murmurs, and Eduardo cuts him off with a kiss.

　　Mark opens his mouth- Jesus fuck, how can he not, and it's better than he ever imagined. Eduardo sucks hot on his tongue, exhales into his mouth, and Mark puts his hands on the small of his back, like a reflex. It feels like they fit there, like they've always been there.

　　"Jesus, Mark," he says after a minute, pulling away very slightly, and Mark keeps one hand there, reaches the other up to Eduardo's neck and pulls him down again. Eduardo makes a sound, a breathy little groan, and says very softlyyes,yes, and Mark's hard. He pushes his hips up into Eduardo's and Eduardo groans again.

　　"Do you want to fuck right here" Eduardo says, laughing, and Mark's brain temporarily short-circuits because fuck. Him. And Eduardo. Fucking.

　　The truth of it is, he's a twenty-seven year old at the top of his field, working for the fucking President, but he's also a fucking toothpick and a geek and a little bit of an asshole, and he hasn't had sex in nine months. He doesn't like hanging out on the Hill, or the numerous bars in DC. He works eighteen hours a day and spends the other six in traffic, passed out on his twin bed, or, occasionally, eating.

　　"We shouldn't," he manages to say, and shakes his head, pushes Eduardo off him a little bit, because he's dangerously close to coming if Eduardo keeps rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

　　"Come- come to my office," Eduardo says, eagerly, mouth wet against Mark's cheek, the corner of his lips. Mark thinks briefly of numbers coming in, votes being tallied- of writing some bullshit "bipartisan effort" statement for tomorrow, of having to pretend to talk with too-tan fat Republican fuckers for the next two years, and then Eduardo slips a hand under his hoodie, grasps his hip, and Mark thinks, almost audibly, fuck it.

　　He lets Eduardo lead him.

　　In the office, the only light comes from Eduardo's computer, still set up, open to his email and CNN, MSNBC, the Economist, WSJ, Fox, HuffPost, and the Miami Herald. Eduardo sees him looking and closes the laptop.

　　"No numbers, right now," he murmurs. "I can't tell you how goddamn sick I am of numbers."

　　"Naturally,you're an economic advisor," Mark says, and Eduardo pinches at his nipple through the shirt. Mark hisses and grins, quick in the pale light, and Eduardo pushes himself up onto his desk, moving his folders aside.

　　"Do you have-" Mark says, rolling his lip between his teeth, surveying Eduardo anxiously.

　　"Yeah, my wallet," Eduardo says, and twists backward off the desk to grab his sensible classy black jacket. Mark looks at the line of his flat belly as his shirt rides up, the hair leading from his belly button into his expensive pants. He wants to put his tongue on it.

　　He hasn't blown anyone since college, but it can't be that hard to pick it up again.

　　He takes Eduardo by the hips as Eduardo's straightening up, and he makes a vague noise of surprise in his throat.

　　"Mark" he asks, and Mark pushes his shirt up with both hands, sucks at Eduardo's stomach. Eduardo groans and spreads his legs.

　　"Fuck, Mark," he says. "Fucking yes."

　　Mark takes his cock out, holds it by the base. Nuzzles his mouth against it, lips parted slightly, breathes in the scent. Eduardo's clenching the desk with white-knuckled fingers.

　　Mark puts his mouth carefully around it, and Eduardo chokes out- "Yeah, that's good. That's- Mark. Yeah."

　　Mark braces himself on the desk, sucks harder, and Eduardo puts a gentle hand in his hair, doesn't push, just rests it there, scratches his fingernails over Mark's scalp. Mark shivers and pants out a breath around Eduardo.

　　"Mark, I don't want-" he gasps out a breath. "I want to come when you're in me."

　　Mark squeezes his eyes shut, lets Eduardo's cock fall out of his mouth. Eduardo's looking down at him, cheeks a little pink, eyes wide and bright with lust and lack of sleep.

　　"C'mere," he says, drawing Mark closer by the back of his neck, and kisses him, somehow gets them onto the floor. It's not the best angle- Eduardo keeps trying to get his hips higher, and Mark is trying to get his fingers, his hands, on Eduardo's ass but it's hard.

　　"Hey," Eduardo says, slowing Mark's touch, kissing his neck, and he pulls off his pants very slowly, tosses them aside. "Here we go, alright"

　　Mark draws in a shaky breath- oh God they're fucking, they're having sex in the goddamn White House, and Eduardo pushes Mark's pants down and off, slips the condom on. It's wet, slick, and Eduardo huffs out a laugh, takes Mark's fingers and rubs them on the condom, on himself, till they're wet, then nudges them against the crack of his ass.

　　"Fingers first, 'kay" he says quietly, and Mark puts one in tentatively. Eduardo shudders, spine taut, and pulls Mark down into an open-mouthed kiss, mouthing encouragement against the line of jaw.

　　Mark licks his own fingers to make sure they're wet enough for two. The lube tastes like some kind of fruit, sweet. He puts another finger in, thrusts slippery and hard into Eduardo, and Eduardo chokes on his breath, moans low and shaky.

　　"Yes,yes yes yes," he says, and reaches between them, grabs at Mark's cock with one hand, guides it toward himself. "Wanna get fucked," he breathes out, grinning sheepishly at his own audacity, and Mark makes a sex noise, some kind of groan, hot and loud, and immediately goes hot with embarrassment.

　　"C'mon," Eduardo says, and Mark says, "I'm-yeah. Give me a fucking second, Wardo, unless you want me to come immediately."

　　Eduardo's laughing, and Mark slides slowly into him, feels the gripping heat, and he forgot that sex could feel this good. Eduardo wraps his ankles around Mark's hips, pulls him in deeper, and Mark leans his head against Eduardo's collarbone, breathes for a second.

　　"Move, Mark," Eduardo says in a strained voice, kicking at his tailbone, and Mark slides in and out again. Eduardo exhales on a long, hissing,yes, and Mark's arms are shaking from the strain.

　　"Mark-" Eduardo says, too loud, and Mark shakes his head, saying, "Shh, shh, Dustin or Chris-"

　　Eduardo just laughs and clenches around him, face glistening from effort. Mark is hot too, tingling, and Eduardo grins up at him and it feels so fucking good.

　　"Wanna come" Eduardo breathes up at him, and Mark pushes at him with a shaking hand, frustrated. Eduardo pulls him closer, and it shifts the angle and it gets a thousand times more intense for both of them. Eduardo's biting half-moons in his bottom lip, and Mark thrusts three more times and comes. He fumbles for Eduardo's cock, and it only takes two strokes before Eduardo's groaning, too loud, and coming all over his hand.

　　Mark pulls out and flops on his back. Eduardo moves closer to him, shivering, sticky and cold, and God, they're really on the fucking floor.

　　"I need to get this carpet dry-cleaned," Eduardo says dazedly, and Mark snorts out a laugh.

　　"Here," Eduardo says, standing up, throwing Mark a couple tissues. Everything feels dark and weird for a moment, and Mark's laying on the floor like an idiot. He scrambles to his feet, wiping himself off, putting his hands over his dick. Eduardo's face is shadowed, turned away, and it all comes rushing back. They lost.

　　"Fucking Christ," Mark mutters to himself, and Eduardo turns to him, face open and honest and unshadowed, when he's looking at Mark straight on.

　　"Hey, it's okay," he says, putting his hands on Mark's hips, pulling him in.

　　"We're fucking while the world burns," Mark says darkly, and Eduardo laughs at that, kisses his hairline.

　　"Ah yes, the world burns because we have a bipartisan legislature," Eduardo says, and he slips Mark's shirt over his shoulders, buttons it up.

　　"It's not going to be perfect, but it's going to be exciting," Eduardo says quietly, buttoning his own shirt. "It's going to be a fucking challenge, and I'm excited."

　　"You're an idiot," Mark says.

　　"There's an art to all this,you know," Eduardo says. "To the fighting, and the compromise. Some might even say it's the 'essence of democracy'." He finishes the sentence in a posh accent, air-quotes and all, and Mark snorts.

　　"Gridlock, Wardo," he says. And- "You're such a Brown grad."

　　Eduardo just grins and pulls away, leads him out of the office by a hand.

　　They slip back into the war-room. Erica's gone home, the President's on his third scotch, and Dustin looks up from his computer, face tight and resigned. It brightens when he sees them, Eduardo's mussed hair, the hickey Mark is just now realizing is rising right above his collarbone. He gives them a discreet thumbs up, somehow maniacally energetic in the midst of the grief and the Blackberrys all saying "the Senate is now passing under Republican control" and "another seat lost in Delaware" and "4:38 AM."

　　Mark rolls his eyes, but lets a smile twist his mouth briefly when Eduardo rubs a hand over his neck. Mark's never lost before, but maybe he's realizing it's not as simple as win or lose.

　　--

　　"Twenty bucks," Dustin says, holding out his palm over Chris' press reports, three days later.

　　"No," Chris says automatically. "Wait, why"

　　"Mark and Eduardo!" Dustin exclaims, wiggling his fingers under Chris' nose. "They got together on election night. Or, technically, post-election morning. Whatever."

　　Chris sighs. "Dustin, we never even made a bet, first of all, and second of all, are you sure Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'll need to deal with this."

　　"No, Chris. You take care of pretending we're excited about the new session and I will take care of this."

　　Chris gives him a dubious look, but he really is busy. So goddamn busy.

　　"Dustin, just keep it to yourself," he calls, already nearly around the corner. Dustin grins.

　　Dustin takes care of it by sending Eduardo a picture he'd taken of Mark during the presidential election, when he'd fallen asleep in an office chair, unshaved, with his mouth open. Eduardo laughs delightedly. Underneath the picture, it reads-

　　Eduardo- Seriously, just know what you're getting into.

　　Eduardo sends back.

　　I'm aware. Thanks. Somehow I'll manage.

　　fic: the struggle and the progress
　　fic: the struggle and the progress (aka more political!AU)
　　pairing: mark/eduardo
　　notes: more in this universe! and there'll probs be more still. too much fun to write. pretentious title is from the same line of obama's victory speech. also it gets real fluffy heeee, <33
　　this has a bit of an abrupt ending because there will be more. sooooooo,yeah.

　　So Mark guesses they're "dating", then. Sort of. They sleep at each other's places and go out for meals and still have insane brainstorming sessions in Eduardo's office until 4 AM except sometimes now they'll sleep together on the couch. It's not that different. It's nice. Mark wasn't sure what to expect. He's never had a real functioning longer-than-thirty-six hours relationship before. Which makes him sound sort of like a womanizer or a slut, but that's definitely not it. He's just way too fucking busy.

　　Three weeks after election night, some local web-rag gets a picture of them, kissing very demurely outside some Italian restaurant in Georgetown. Eduardo is cupping Mark's jaw in his hand, and Mark has one hand on Eduardo's waist.

　　No one actually picks it up for three days. The Hill isn't quite Hollywood, and the picture languishes online until some entrepreneurial kid from WSJ finds it and recognizes them and sends it to Fox and then it's everywhere. This is obviously proof that the President is planning and enforcing a radical homosexual agenda. Maybe they could have dealt with one gay person in the White House, though Chris himself had received his fair share of bad press and dirty looks. But three

　　Mark is sleeping in Eduardo's bed when the shit hits the fan, which is just fantastically appropriate.

　　Eduardo's breathing against the back of his neck, leg nudged in between Mark's, an arm slung over his waist, and Mark's Blackberry buzzes. It's Chris.

　　get up the hill now if you are at eduardo's leave immediately

　　and then a link:

　　www.wsj.com/s22.html/the-presidents-cabinet:-don't-ask-don't-tell-

　　Mark sits up straight when it loads, adrenaline sharpening every sense until he feels hyperaware, buzzing with it.

　　"Fucking shit," he says, and Eduardo rolls over onto his back, mumbles something.

　　Mark kicks on his pants, shrugs on his hoodie, and fuck, fuck, he didn't even drive here, Eduardo had driven him. Fuck. He can't get a cab, because reporters will be all over it any minute now and it's too long, too fucking long.

　　He stumbles into the early morning air. DC's cold this time of year, brisk, and Mark shivers, calling Chris with one hand, clasping his briefcase closed with the other. He sits down at a bus stop, puts the hood over his head.

　　"Where are you," Chris says.

　　"At a bus stop near Eduardo's. I don't have a car here, Chris. Fuck."

　　"Okay. Okay, everything's going to be okay. Just stay there."

　　"Chris-"

　　"Not fucking now, okay It is a Thursday morning and the goddamn SOTU is in three weeks and this cannot be happening right now but it is, so shut the fuck up and wait there. I'm coming."

　　Mark hangs up and taps out an email to Eduardo. His hands are shaking.

　　e-
　　wsj has pictures of us i'm going back up the hill will email you with details/strategy soon

　　He considers it for a second, then adds-

　　left before you woke up. sorry.

　　And just as he hits Send his phone buzzes, rings. It's Eduardo. Mark looks at it for a second. He really shouldn't answer, but whatever, it'll take Chris at least ten minutes to navigate traffic.

　　"Yeah"

　　"Mark" Eduardo's voice is sleepy, thick. "Did you leave"

　　"Yeah. Check your emails. We're - " he pauses. What are they How are they going to do this God, this is fucking unprecedented and if Eduardo wants him to pretend they never did… whatever they did, then Mark will. Mark knows Eduardo's father.

　　"We're- they have pictures of us, Wardo."

　　"What" His voice is sharp. "Where"

　　"In front of La Focca, last week. Fuck, Wardo, they're going to be everywhere."

　　"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Eduardo's saying. "I need to get dressed."

　　"I'm at the bus stop. Chris is coming to get me."

　　"Yeah, that's probably good. Be discreet."

　　"Are you sure, cause I was thinking about just standing in the middle of the road and screaming, "I just fucked Eduardo Saverin!" Mark says harshly.

　　Eduardo just exhales distractedly, business-like, says "Email me," and hangs up.

　　Mark leans his head against the side of the bus shelter, checks his emails. Twenty-five new already and they keep coming in and they are so fucked.

　　Hi Marky-

　　Saw the pictures! What a looker! I can't believe you haven't had him home for dinner!!!
　　Love,your mama

　　and then-

　　dude fuck i swear to god i didn't say anything. chris is going to murder me and it will be your fault

　　from Dustin, and of course-

　　omg are you okay EMAIL ME BACK SO I KNOW YOU'RE OKAY. if you get fired i'll slap a lawsuit on his ass i don't care if he's the president. i love you little bro!!!

　　from his sister. He responds to that one, because she worries about him, and then stuffs the phone in his pocket as Chris pulls up.

　　The situation is a classic clusterfuck. The President can't fire them because one half of the country will go up in arms. He doesn't want to fire them anyway. But, of course, he can't be all chill about it because the other half of the country will go up in arms about his radical insidious homosexual agenda. Literal arms, probably. Those people have guns.

　　What he does is call them in for a conference, with Chris.

　　"Sir, may I just say how sorry I am," Eduardo says by way of greeting, and Mark moves to stick a hand in his pocket before realizing he's wearing a suit that hasn't got them.

　　"Mark," the President says, and Mark looks up. "What do you suggest we do"

　　Chris is itching to say something. He looks like he's practically about to raise his hand. Mark breathes out, lays his hand on the table.

　　"Sir, I regret that our- Eduardo and my- relationship was exposed in this manner. It was foolish to have been conducting ourselves in that manner in public. However, with all due respect, I have no intention of ending our relationship or doing something like- like-" he stammers off. Eduardo's looking very carefully at the table, cheeks pink. Chris is staring at him with mixed exasperation and pride.

　　"What I mean is that I don't have any shame about what happened, or what is happening, between me and Eduardo."

　　There's a silence. Mark really wants to stick his fingernail in his mouth but he hasn't bit his nails since he was thirteen.

　　"Mark," the President says, sighing, and Chris butts in.

　　"Sir, if I may. This can actually be a boost for our PR. You know the left's been getting antsy because of DADT. They could be a poster couple, a symbol of your commitment to gay rights."

　　Mark snorts. Eduardo's looking up at him under his eyelashes, face oddly serious but amused, like two separate halves.

　　"Here's the deal, guys. I have a year and a half left of my second term, and of course I want to accomplish as much as possible, but it's not like I have another election coming up. You two are extremely important assets to this administration. I'm not usually one to make decisions without having Gage go over the polls but I'm also still a human. You're happy. Be happy. Just be happy a little more discreetly and it'll be fine."

　　Mark is hot, neck burning.

　　"Well, now that I've got presidential approval," he mutters, and Eduardo laughs chokily. Chris is writing things, taking notes, sliding pieces of paper over to the President.

　　"Sir, I-" Eduardo starts. "Thank you." Chris shoos them out, sliding across the table to talk to the President, and they stand to leave.

　　"Saverin-"

　　Eduardo turns, clutching a legal pad to his chest.

　　"Don't let him out in public. He doesn't have a great track record."

　　Eduardo laughs, and Chris says, "I'll send you an official strategy," and Mark feels a little bit like they've just negotiated some treaty. But of course it's not, it's just their two lives. The rest of it, what they're doing, is so much bigger than them. Mark feels unimportant for a second, and for the first time in his life, actually likes it.

　　Eduardo smiles at him and goes to his office, and Mark collapses in his desk chair.

　　"So," Dustin says, popping his head over the cubicle.

　　"What"

　　"What happened! What'd he say I've already written a tweet. white house is a gay sex den, in other news lets repeal DADT!"

　　"You need to get laid," Mark says, and goes hot when he realizes what it implies.

　　"Oooh, like you, Mark I need to get some hot man-loving"

　　"If there's ever an undercover reporter here, at any point, we are so fucked," Mark says, and puts in his headphones.

　　----

　　Senator Saverin is giving a speech, a month later, and they're all watching in Chris' office. He's one of the leaders of the party, and being a Republican Senator in Florida is pretty damn important. People are crazy down there.

　　"I am very excited to begin work with this president and this Congress. I hope that the Senate finds it within themselves to let go of party differences and learn how to compromise, an area in which they have been severely lacking in the last two years."

　　Dustin snorts from where he's scrolling through his laptop. Chris is taking notes.

　　"There has been talk about social initiatives lacking proper drive by the party and I want to assure the public that our goals and morals remain strong. We will not fall on issues such as gun control, abortion, and homosexual marriage, and in fact there is an opportunity in this next Congress to make progress on solidifying the country's values."

　　Mark sneaks a look at Eduardo. He's impassive, but he's curled one hand into his fist. No one else is looking. Mark puts his hand over Eduardo's.

　　"This is a time for action," Senator Saverin is saying, and Eduardo wraps his fingers one by one around Mark's hand. He's trembling slightly. "There has been talk that a personal situation will drive me from my principles but I assure you that the morality of this great nation will always be my top priority."

　　Eduardo stands up and leaves.

　　"Shit," Dustin says quietly, and Chris motions to Mark, mouthing go after him, idiot.

　　Mark finds Eduardo in his office, typing furiously. He stands awkwardly in front of the desk.

　　"Hey," he says, and Eduardo doesn't look up.

　　"I have a lot of stuff to get done," he says tightly.

　　Mark doesn't know what to say.

　　"What are you doing" he asks, though he knows. Eduardo should be working the numbers for the new veterans' bill and scheduling a meeting with the CBO and writing up a tentative proposal of the spring budget.

　　He's just clicking aimlessly, too hard, and Mark sits on his desk, next to him, reaches out a tentative hand to his neck. Eduardo flinches at first, then relaxes.

　　"I'm sorry, just-" he stops, closing his mouth deliberately.

　　"He'd never get re-elected if-" Mark starts weakly, and Eduardo nods.

　　"Of course, he'd never get fucking reelected. That's his top priority, isn't it. Always. Fucking re e-fucking-lection."

　　He slams his laptop shut.

　　"The President of the fucking United States approved of our- of you and me. You know what my father told a reporter Said he cared deeply about me and would be working with me to resolve my problem."

　　"Asshole," Mark says reflexively. Eduardo just stares into space.

　　"He's not. He's not good enough for you," Mark says, stiltedly. Eduardo scrubs a hand over his face and smiles weakly.

　　"Let's just not talk about it." He stands up and kisses Mark lightly, on the corner of his mouth. His lips are cool and dry.

　　"Do you want to come over for dinner tonight" he says, putting his hand on Mark's hip, under the hoodie.

　　"Yeah," Mark says, nosing at the line of Eduardo's jaw, breathing him in.

　　"Good," Eduardo murmurs, looking up at Mark through his eyelashes. He pushes at Mark's hips, sits down again, and Mark leaves. He physically can't stop his mouth from curling up into a smile, and Dustin just starts laughing when he sees him. Mark raises his middle finger and sits down at his desk.

　　---

　　"What are we all gathering around" Eduardo asks, a couple weeks later, wrapping his fingers around the top of Mark's cubicle. Mark goes red and tries to shove it under his desk but Dustin grins around a mouthful and hands Eduardo a muffin.

　　"White House care package!" he exclaims delightedly. "Seriously, these are the shit."

　　"Mark's mom sends him a package full of baked goods every couple months," Erica explains, two cookies in her hand. "It's pretty much the only time I consent to talk to him."

　　Mark flicks her off, and she smacks the back of his head and steals another cookie.

　　"That's adorable," Eduardo says, looking down at his muffin. Mark looks at him with a pained expression.

　　"She just has way too much spare time. It's not a big deal."

　　"Shut up, bro, these are like the highlights of my life. Except for that time when I got retweeted by Kanye."

　　Chris comes over to them, hand that's not clutching a Blackberry outstretched, and Mark drops a Ziploc baggie in his hand. Eduardo peeks at it. For my darling Chris, it says. Eduardo snorts.

　　"Not fair," Dustin whines, pushing himself away from the cubicle and hanging all over Chris. "I want a personalized package of goodies from Mrs. Zuckerberg."

　　"Maybe you shouldn't have gone to Cornell, then," Chris says, snatching it away.

　　"Your mom bakes for you" Eduardo asks, after the crowd has mostly dispersed. There's a few crumbs left in the box.

　　"Shut up," Mark mutters, and Eduardo rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He's laughing.

　　"That is so sweet," he murmurs to himself. "Literally. Ha."

　　"I'm going to ignore that attempt at humor," Mark says, and Eduardo snorts, leaning down and kissing Mark swiftly on the lips. Mark goes hot, and Eduardo slaps the side of his cubicle.

　　"Strategy sesh tonight I'll order Pei Wei."

　　"If you promise to never say 'sesh' again, sure," Mark says, and Eduardo sticks his tongue out. Mark opens a desk drawer reluctantly.

　　"Here," he says, pulling out a paper plate covered in saran wrap. "She did it. It was her. Not me."

　　There's a Post-It attached.

　　Hi Eduardo! I made Mark tell me your favorite dessert. I wanted to formally invite you to Thanksgiving at our house this year! We'd all love to have you!! Can't wait to meet you! Love, Linda

　　Eduardo's silent, biting his lip. Mark is typing furiously, not looking up. The tips of his ears are burning.

　　"I- " Eduardo's voice is very flat and controlled. "I-"

　　Mark reaches out and grabs Eduardo's hand in his, silently, still not looking up. He's not sure why.

　　"Thank you. Thank- thank her."

　　Mark nods. Eduardo lets go of Mark's hand and leaves. He's walking straight-backed and steadily. Mark is really fucking confused.

　　He emails Chris.

　　okay so my mom sent wardo a package and he just goes 'thank you' and walks off, does he hate it maybe he's allergic to nuts. there are nuts in the brownies, obviously. do you think i should talk to him about it.

　　Chris emails back a half hour later, and Mark can practically hear him sighing

　　jesus, mark. he's obviously all overcome because his family's so fucked up. go talk to him. also i'm saving this email forever , under 'mark zuckerberg is a 14 year old girl'.

　　Mark exhales and throws the phone on the desk, stands up and walks into Eduardo's office.

　　The plate is unopened, next to Eduardo's computer. Eduardo is typing, and he looks up when Mark comes in and then down again, too quickly.

　　"It was really nice of her," he says quietly. "Seriously, tell her thank you."

　　"I will," Mark says. "Are you- Wardo, are you okay"

　　Eduardo looks up at him then, and his eyes are dark. He's shaking slightly.

　　"I'm fine," he says tonelessly, and then he puts his head down on his hands.

　　"I just don't want to fuck this up," he says, muffled. Mark is even more confused. If anyone would ever fuck up anything, it is Mark.

　　"This- like, us"

　　"I don't have people in my family, like that. I don't even know- I don't- " he breaks off, lifting his head. His eyes are dry, but he keeps pulling his lips tight.

　　"I'm sorry," he says, and laughs to himself. "God, I'm just so ill-equipped."

　　"Do I seem like an expert on feelings to you" Mark says, leaning against Eduardo's desk.

　　"But they have to love you. They're your family."

　　Mark sort of sees the logic, but, but-

　　"I love you though," he says without thinking, and goes bright red. Eduardo is looking at him, eyes huge. Mark swallows uneasily.

　　"Mark," he whispers, and Mark cuts him off.

　　"We don't have to- it's okay if you don't. I was just."

　　"God, it's 4pm on a Thursday and I'm at work," Eduardo says to himself, like he's had some fantasy since he was a kid about where he'd be when this happened. Mark thinks about it. It's actually entirely possible. Eduardo is a romantic.

　　"I love you too," Eduardo says, carefully and determinedly, and he breaks into a grin. Mark's mouth is quirking up at the edge, and Eduardo stands up between Mark's legs and kisses him gently on the mouth. Mark inhales and kisses back, taking note of the taste and the feel of him, the fact that they're in his office, appropriately. The way Eduardo smells, his neck, like expensive understated cologne and soap.

　　There's a knock on the door, and Chris comes in without waiting for a response. "Eduardo, I need to go over a couple projections with you before-" he stops, looking up. Mark is leaning back, and Eduardo's stepping away, but their cheeks are flushed and Mark knows how full Eduardo's lips get when he's been kissed.

　　"Sorry," Chris says, grinning to himself. "Just- sorry." He shakes his head, still grinning, and closes the door behind him.

　　Eduardo laughs, turning around, and catches Mark's lips one last time with his own.

　　"I need to work," he says softly. Mark nods, puts his open mouth on Eduardo's neck.

　　"Still want Pei Wei tonight" he murmurs, and Eduardo shudders.

　　"Only till midnight," he says. "Want you to fuck me, after that."

　　"Jesus, Wardo."

　　Eduardo laughs into his hair. "Send me your statement about the budget before you publish it, okay"

　　Mark nods, pushes him away.

　　"You're in my office," Eduardo says, mock-bossily, and Mark makes a face and walks out.

　　He checks his Blackberry.

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　don't you dare have sex in the White House. but,you know, i'm proud of you.you done good, mark zuckerberg.
　　oh and tell linda thanks for the cupcakes. delicious as usual!

　　Mark snorts.

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to:[e-mail]

　　checked that off the bucket list already, chris.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　you better mean thanking your mom and not the first sentence. mark what have i said about wikileaks.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to:[e-mail]

　　okay,you don't understand technology because you're a humanities major, but the scary little hacker aliens can't get these emails.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　you mean i don't have to wear this foil helmet!!!!!

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to:[e-mail]

　　I'M LAUGHING SO HARD RIGHT NOW CHRIS CAN YOU HEAR ME HA HA HA.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　go back to work. dustin's doing more work than you.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to:[e-mail]

　　that is physically impossible.

　　----

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　and yet.

　　---

　　fr: dustin [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail], [e-mail]

　　OMG I CAN SEE YOU GUYS EMALING EACH OTHER STOP IT I FEEL SO LEFT OUT

　　---

　　to: [e-mail]
　　fr: [e-mail]

　　chris and your loverboy are being mean and not telling me what they're e-mailing about. fix it.

　　---

　　fr: [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　yeah, i know. they're emailing me too. we've been talking about you.

　　---

　　fr; [e-mail]
　　to: [e-mail]

　　IDK IF U CAN SEE ME BUT IM POUTING

　　fic: the times we were told that we can't
　　fic: the times we were told that we can't
　　pairing: mark/eduardo
　　notes: yet MORE of the political AU. there'll probably be one more part. i realized there just was not enough □□ in that last bit, so..yeah. also, facebook! for auntie rosie!!! <333
　　oh and title is still from obama's victory speech. LOOK AT ME WITH MY THEMES. :D

　　In February, the President’s invited to some massive tech conference in New York City, and they somehow end up all going. They’re staying in the W, and in the car to the convention center Chris nudges Mark and says, “So, Billy’s going to be here.”

　　Mark rolls his eyes, and Eduardo looks up from where he’s rummaging in his bag for a water bottle.

　　“Billy” he asks.

　　“Billy Olson,” Chris says absentmindedly.

　　“Oh, of course. Facebook founder.”

　　“And Mark’s ex-roommate,” Dustin adds, not even looking up from his game of Angry Birds.

　　Eduardo’s jaw drops. “You were Billy Olson’s roommate”

　　Chris laughs when Mark shrugs.

　　“He hasn’t told you the story”

　　“Chris,” Mark says, and Eduardo squeezes his knee to shut him up, leaning forward towards Chris eagerly.

　　“Mark here was not just roommates with Billy. They were business partners.”

　　“What”

　　“Mark was a co-founder of Facebook,” Dustin says. Mark’s blushing.

　　“How- is that-”

　　“But he left in early days,” Chris explains, pinching Mark’s cheek. “Because he has a not-so-secret desire to save the world from idiocy and hicks with guns.”

　　“It wasn’t like that,” Mark says, annoyed, and Eduardo nudges him with his shoulder, grinning.

　　“I can’t believe that,” he says.

　　“Poking All Mark,” Dustin says, sniggering.

　　“Not true,” Mark says, and Chris laughs, typing on his Blackberry.

　　“Sort of true. He kept poking you. And then- he somehow thought that was a good idea.”

　　“Oh God, but it’s not, it’s so annoying,” Eduardo laughs, and Mark flicks him off. Eduardo pokes him hard in the shoulder, until Mark grabs his hand in his to make him stop.

　　“You just had to be a superhero, didn’t you,” Eduardo murmurs into Mark’s ear, squeezing his thigh, and Mark looks down, lips quirking up, ears hot.

　　---

　　Apparently, Eduardo has a superman kink, because two hours later, when they’re done with champagne and light refreshments and keynote speakers, Eduardo texts Mark come to the bathroom. now.

　　“Wardo” Mark asks cautiously, pushing open the bathroom door, and Eduardo pushes him into a stall, locks the door, kisses him hard.

　　"Oh Jesus, Eduardo, we can't do this right now.”

　　"Tell me to stop," he says, rubbing the heel of his hand over Mark's crotch. Mark exhales, squeezes his eyes shut.

　　"Someone could come- fuck, Wardo, in, someone could come in," he pants, and Eduardo goes to his knees.

　　"Probably be the most exciting thing they’d have seen in a while."

　　Mark's head hits the stall as Eduardo licks up his cock.

　　"I don't like what you're implying about computer peopl- fuck,yes, Wardo-" he says, and stuffs a fist in his mouth because Eduardo's sucking on the head, lips popping off, and the noise is obscene. Mark's skin is flushed, he can feel it. He's sweating, panting, and he lets out a long moan when Eduardo pulls off, blows cold air over him.

　　"Fucking hurry," Mark says, taking his hand out his mouth, and then- "Eduardo, come- oh fuck come on Wardo yes. Yes yes, fucking- fuck-" as Eduardo nearly swallows him.

　　He comes and Eduardo swallows, licks him, kisses the juncture between hip and thigh. He stands up and leans against the other wall, breathing hard, and Mark fumbles his own pants shut and falls against Eduardo, pushes him hard against the wall and kisses him, nipping at his lips and then licking until Eduardo lets out a pained little exhale. He's hard against Mark's thigh.

　　"I can't believe no one's come in," Eduardo says, grinning wildly, and Mark palms him through his pants. Eduardo groans at the friction and thrusts his hips up.

　　"Shh," Mark whispers, unzipping his Armani pants. Eduardo would be wearing fucking Armani.

　　"Mm, fuck yes Mark yes like that," Eduardo says all in one exhale when Mark takes him in hand.

　　"Now, I can't do this the whole time," Mark says in a flat voice, but he can't stop grinning. "Because you'll come everywhere. Get everything dirty."

　　"Mmgh-" Eduardo pants, hips thrusting into Mark's fist, eyes locked on Mark's, wide and desperate.

　　"You can't go out there and they're all looking at you with come on your pants, like some teenage boy-"

　　"Mark-"

　　"And everyone knows just exactly what you've been doing-" he twists his wrist.

　　"Oh God oh fucking-" He's tensing like he's almost there. Mark drops to his knees, sucks hard, and Eduardo comes almost instantly, gasping out loud hot breaths. Mark stands up when he's done, and Eduardo pulls up his briefs, still breathing hard, grinning.

　　The door opens.

　　"Yes, well, I think it's an extremely exciting model for other businesses to follow-"

　　Eduardo's mouth opens and before Mark can even process it he's lifting Mark up against the opposite stall wall. Mark wraps his ankles around Eduardo's waist, automatically, so they’re out of sight.

　　Eduardo is completely silent, listening, eyes wide, and Mark can't even believe the position they're in. He bites his lip to keep from laughing, clamping his mouth shut, and Eduardo looks at him and his eyes crinkle shut and he chokes out a silent gasp of laughter. Mark lets his head lean back against the wall, and Eduardo buries his head in Mark's neck, shaking.

　　The men are washing their hands, still talking, and Mark leans forward on an impulse and presses his lips against Eduardo's.

　　He's still laughing but he kisses back, quietly, and Mark wraps a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him closer, and they're,yeah, they're full-on making out, albeit completely silently, which is really quite a feat. Mark slows it down when Eduardo exhales a little too loudly, pulls away, brushes his lips against the corner of Eduardo's mouth and Eduardo pushes him farther up the wall, hands under Mark's ass.

　　The men leave.

　　They stare at each other silently. Eduardo's arms are shaking a little. Mark squeezes his legs around Eduardo's torso, briefly.

　　"Want you to- to fuck me tonight," Mark says quietly, and Eduardo's hands tighten on his hips. They haven't done that. Mark's never asked.

　　"You sure" Eduardo murmurs, and Mark pushes at his arms, drops his legs down.

　　"Let me-" Eduardo lets him stand up.

　　"Yeah, I'm sure," Mark says, straightening his suit jacket, and Eduardo zips up his pants, fingers still trembling.

　　----

　　They take a shower together that night, in Eduardo’s huge hotel room shower, both a little tipsy and tired and anticipatory, and Eduardo soaps up Mark’s back as they face each other, and Mark presses against him with a hot little exhale when Eduardo’s fingers slip into the crack of his ass.

　　“Hey,” Eduardo says, kissing Mark’s jaw, his temple, water running down both of their faces. He rubs the finger a little more deliberately, slip-sliding along the line, between, so fucking close, and Mark groans, pushing his hips against Eduardo’s, grabbing on with both hands. Eduardo’s skin is slippery and wet and tan and Mark licks his collarbone, sweet and soapy.

　　“C’mon,” Eduardo says, moving his hands up Mark’s back, until he’s massaging slow circles into Mark’s scalp and shoulders and Mark is melting against the wall of the shower, cold tile on his back and Eduardo hot against his front.

　　“Fuck,” he gets out, open mouth filling with water, and Eduardo puts his mouth against Mark’s cheek.

　　“Wash off and we’ll- in my bed. Yeah”

　　Mark nods, and Eduardo smooths a hand over Mark’s ass, and Mark wants Eduardo inside him immediately.

　　He washes quickly and Eduardo steps out first, throwing him a towel. He is naked and Eduardo is naked and Mark wraps the towel around both of their hips and draws him in and they are kissing. It is the most intimate thing he’s ever done, the most open he’s ever felt. Eduardo’s hands cup Mark’s ass through the towel.

　　“You’re sure,” Eduardo says, and Mark’s muscles clench involuntarily, excitedly. He feels queasy in a delicious way.

　　“Yes,yeah. Wardo. Bed” he stammers, and Eduardo laughs and pushes him into the bedroom, lays him out on the sheets. They’re still wet, but fuck it.

　　“I want to make you feel so good,” Eduardo murmurs against his ear, and Mark nods, suddenly speechless. It feels like some boundary’s going to be crossed, and he’s scared but he wants it. Eduardo- he just- he trusts Eduardo.

　　Eduardo rustles around for lube and condoms and Mark lays on his back, breathing slow and steady.

　　“Are you sure,” Eduardo asks again, looking down at him, and Mark pounds his fist on the mattress.

　　“I’m sure, Wardo, I swear. You seem to fucking like it.”

　　Eduardo laughs to himself, gets on his knees on the bed.

　　“I really do,” he says quietly. “I really like it, and I want you to like it.”

　　Mark stares at him. His heart hurts, in a good way. He thinks. Is there a good way to hurt

　　Eduardo slicks up a finger and slips it in and Mark feels weird, he feels so weird. Eduardo nods questioningly at him and he nods in return and Eduardo rubs his other hand over Mark’s stomach and puts another finger in.

　　And Mark is chewing his lip nervously and Eduardo crooks his finger and hits- hits something and it unfolds in the pit of his stomach, warm and liquid and he moans, and yes, fuck yes there’s a good way to hurt.

　　“Mm, like that,” Eduardo asks quietly, and Mark nods, legs opening wider. Eduardo does it again, and again, and Mark is shaking trying to keep still, gasping out fast breaths through his mouth.

　　“One more, okay”

　　The third burns but Eduardo finds the spot again right away and it feels so good, so insanely good. Mark is twisting his hips on Eduardo’s fingers, trying to push himself further down onto the bed, making these little desperate noises that he can’t even care enough about to be embarrassed by.

　　“God,you fucking love it,” Eduardo says in this low rough voice, eyes dark, and Mark is too far gone to be embarrassed. He wants Eduardo to fuck him. He has never specifically wanted that in his life but fuck he wants it now.

　　“Eduardo I really really need you,” Mark says all in one breath, and Eduardo nods jerkily, shoves a pillow under Mark’s hips. Mark lets his legs fall open even wider.

　　Eduardo pushes in slowly and it hurts but Mark just exhales carefully and Eduardo’s face is worth it.

　　“You are so fucking perfect,” Eduardo says shakily, and draws one of Mark’s legs up onto his hip with one hand. He slides out and then in again. Mark groans loose in his throat, kicks his other leg up around Eduardo’s waist, strangely reminiscent of how they’d been in the bathroom at the convention center.

　　"You- did I hit it Do you feel good" Eduardo asks, face concerned and shining with sweat, and Mark nods and pulls him closer, feeling so fucking loved. He hasn't exactly,yet, but when Eduardo thrusts in again Mark doesn't have to lie because he feels it and his eyes go wide and he makes a shocked sound, high in his throat.

　　Eduardo nods determinedly to himself and hits it again, and again, until Mark is shaking, fisting his hands in the 600 thread count sheets, babbling.

　　He runs a finger up Mark's cock, takes him in hand, and that's it, that's fucking it- he's coming everywhere, ass clenching spastically around Eduardo and it's white behind his eyes and he feels turned inside out but really, really fucking good.

　　He gusts out a long sigh and watches Eduardo's face, and deliberately, carefully squeezes again, drawing him in deeper, scratches his nails down Eduardo's lower back, and Eduardo groans out something in Portuguese, and says Mark Mark oh God Mark and comes.

　　He pulls out and Mark winces. The sting, the feeling of emptiness, is all new and Mark vaguely dislikes it but then Eduardo is walking into the bathroom, completely naked, and he comes back with a towel, wet with warm water. He washes Mark off in smooth strokes, and when the roughness of the towel hits Mark's nipple he makes a noise, and Eduardo leans down and sucks the nipple into his mouth, licks Mark's chest.

　　"Jesus, Wardo," Mark says weakly, and Eduardo keeps doing that, kissing him reverently on his chest and his belly, the concavities of his hips, the pale insides of his skinny thighs.

　　“Fucking love you,” he murmurs, into the spot right below Mark’s navel, and Mark exhales shakily, pulls Eduardo up by the shoulder until they’re at face level.

　　“You too,” he says, quiet, eyes nearly slipping shut. He’s bone-tired all of a sudden, pliant and warm and Eduardo throws the hand towel onto the floor and puts his hand flat on Mark’s chest, face pushed into his arm. Mark lays his head back, pulls the comforter up over them with one hand, and drops off to sleep.

　　----

　　The next morning Chris knocks on their door to wake them up.

　　“I tried Mark’s room already,” he says when Eduardo opens the door,yawning hugely. “I should have known.”

　　“Good morning to you too, Chris.”

　　“Morning. Our flight leaves in two hours, so we’re getting breakfast downstairs-you want”

　　“Yeah,” Mark says, puling on a t-shirt.

　　“We’ll be right down, Chris, okay”

　　“Yeah, we’ll meet you. Dustin is freaking out from hunger. He keeps clutching his stomach and moaning and opening and closing the mini fridge.”

　　
“Tell him Pringles are not a healthy breakfast food,” Eduardo says, laughing, and Chris leaves.

　　“How are you” Eduardo asks Mark once they’re alone. Mark’s trying to work the coffemaker, bleary-eyed and fucked out and achey in a good way.

　　“Good,” he mumbles, and Eduardo kisses his shoulder blade through the t-shirt, puts his hands on Mark’s hips from behind.

　　“Just get coffee downstairs, babe,” he says, and Mark has never been called anything like that in his life. He was never one for names. His few girlfriends had always been faintly annoyed by that.

　　He likes it, with Eduardo. He nods slightly, puts the coffee filter down.

　　Eduardo just touches his hip lightly and finishes getting dressed.

　　“There were no hot chicks at that thing,” Dustin grumbles, stuffing half a piece of toast in his mouth.

　　“It was pretty male-dominated,” Eduardo agrees thoughtfully. “There’s a real dearth of women in technology. I wonder why. Maybe just a historical bias, or -”

　　“Ugh,you’re boring,” Dustin groans, and Mark snorts. Eduardo rolls his eyes and takes a bite of omelet.

　　“Did you talk to Billy” Chris asks, and Mark shakes his head.

　　“I mean, I said hi, I guess.”

　　“Did he...”

　　“Yeah.”

　　“Did he what” Eduardo asks curiously.

　　“He always asks Mark to come work for him. Says there’s no one more creative in programming today.”

　　“How he got that idea from four months of coding in a dorm room I have no idea,” Mark says, and Dustin pokes him.

　　“Don’t be so modest, Marky.”

　　
“Don’t call me that.”

　　“He hates nicknames,” Dustin explains to Eduardo, and Mark goes hot. Eduardo nods, saying softly, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and grins into his coffee and squeezes Mark’s thigh under the table.

　　---

　　Work goes on as usual, through the spring. The Congress is slow,(gridlock, of course) and there are a couple of close calls, crazy shit passed in the Senate, but they’ve held onto their majority in the House and nothing terrible’s getting through. Mark gets a little thrill of anger whenever he hears about the latest bullshit endeavor to defund Planned Parenthood or strengthen and expand DOMA or repeal some part of Medicare, and he’ll stay up with Eduardo for hours,yelling over Indian food, eventually passing out on Eduardo’s couch surrounded by scrunched up papers with incoherent notes on them, breathing curry-scented breaths into each other’s mouths and falling asleep curled together.

　　In April Senator Saverin introduces a bill as majority leader and it’s a fucking doozy. It’s a general commerce bill, but he’s tacked on some bullshit about custody rights for same sex couples, and tried to relate it to the economy with some shitty statistics about disparities in child support between heterosexual and homosexual couples.

　　It’s clearly anti-gay and it’s offensive and it’s annoying. Mark considers it an annoyance, because it won’t pass, but he finds Eduardo in his office, face tight, the night after it’s introduced and Mark realizes it’s a lot more than an annoyance to him.

　　Eduardo is massaging his neck with two fingers, peering at his computer screen, and Mark stands in the doorway.

　　“You okay” he asks, and Eduardo jerks, startled.

　　“Hey- hey,yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

　　“So, that commerce bill-”

　　“Mark, I said I’m fine,” Eduardo says defensively.

　　“I was just going to ask if you think the CBO will approve that clause about soybean farming in Iowa,” Mark asks. Eduardo exhales and nods, and Mark comes to his side, leans against his desk.

　　“Eduardo, it’s not going to pass.”

　　“Oh great, so I can adopt as many fucking babies as I want, thanks, Mark,” Eduardo snaps, and Mark recoils.

　　
“That’s not what I- fuck, never mind.”

　　“Mark, wait. I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s-you know how you said that thing, before, about how he just wants to be re-elected That’s why he does everything, for re-election, for his constituents I fucking wish that were it.” He stops, drumming his fingers against the desk. “I- Mark, he really thinks- well,you know.”

　　“No, I don’t,” Mark says carefully, and Eduardo digs the palms of his hands into his closed eyes.

　　“It’s not just about that, all of the things he does,” he says quietly, frustrated, weary. “He really thinks I’m- that I’m wrong. That it’s wrong.”

　　Mark nods quietly.

　　“Every single thing he says in the interviews, about caring about- about me or whatever, is a fucking lie,” Eduardo says roughly, and Mark’s chest hurts. His chest fucking hurts. He wants to kill Eduardo’s father, and he has never wanted to protect someone like this before. It’s terrifying.

　　“I’m sorry. Not- not for you, like that, I’m just sorry that he’s such a fucking idiot.”

　　Eduardo nods, head down, waves a stoic little hand at him like, I’m fine I’m fine and Mark isn’t great at this, he knows that, but can’t Eduardo give him some credit

　　“Wardo, just.” He has no idea what to say, and settles for reaching up, putting his arms around Eduardo’s neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck. He doesn’t even consciously know what he’s doing but he wants to make Eduardo feel better. He wants Eduardo to feel amazing. He doesn’t ever want Eduardo to feel bad ever again, and it scares the shit out of him.

　　He wants Eduardo to feel amazing, and he wants Eduardo’s father to feel a great deal of pain.

　　So after he kisses Eduardo’s neck and squeezes his waist and leaves, he does something. He does some research, on the side, calls up old hacking tricks he hasn't used since college, and what he finds, after a month- it’s- it’s fucking perfect. Just perfect.

　　---

　　“What the fuck is this, mama No- calm down. Calm down, it’ll be- mami, pare de chorar. Ma- venha, mami, it’s okay.”

　　Mark watches him. Eduardo’s pacing furiously in his apartment, fists clenched, and Mark feels a little like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Even though, technically, Eduardo hasn’t caught him yet.

　　Eduardo hangs up, rubs a tired hand on his temples.

　　“Jesus,” he says to himself.

　　“The latest in a string of Republican hypocritical sex scandals,” Mark says in an announcer’s voice, amused, and Eduardo shakes his head silently. Mark is a little giddy with it, with what he did for Eduardo.

　　“I just don’t understand how CNN got a hold of this,” Eduardo murmurs to himself. “The woman didn’t say anything.”

　　“The hooker,” Mark says triumphantly. “She was a hooker, Wardo.”

　　“Please don’t say that in public, okay” Eduardo says, waving his hand at him.

　　“Why not It’s true. Craigslist, Wardo. Could he be more of a cliche”

　　Eduardo just stares into space, frowning. Mark is a little nonplussed. Eduardo should be more excited.

　　“Linda at the Post told me it was an anonymous tip,” Eduardo says. “I just- I don’t know.”

　　“Yeah, an anonymous tip from someone who knows where to look and has the technology to track IP addresses,” Mark says, faux-absently, grinning a little, and Eduardo nods and then realizes and looks at him.

　　“Mark. Oh- oh fuck Mark was this you”

　　Mark shrugs conspiratorially, looking up at him, and Eduardo is not amused. In fact, he looks pretty fucking furious.

　　“You. You did this. You’re the one who ruined my mother’s life-”

　　“What No!”

　　“Goddamnit, Mark!”

　　“I was trying to help,” Mark says hotly, going red, and Eduardo looks at him with a pained, disbelieving expression.

　　“Help You thought this- this would help”

　　“He’s a fucking hypocrite,” Mark mutters, and Eduardo makes a agonized little sound.

　　“You don’t want your mom to know that her husband-” Mark starts, and Eduardo puts a finger in his face. He’s shaking.

　　“You don’t think my mother knows he’s been fucking around on her She fucking knows, alright It’s been- god, Mark, it’s been twentyyears-”

　　“Wait, what” Mark asks, because- what

　　Eduardo bares his teeth at him, eyes wide and wet. “Fuck, Mark, this is my fucking family. It’s my- my family.”

　　“I thought I was your family,” Mark says sullenly. Eduardo just looks away, scrolling frantically through his phone.

　　“I thought-” Mark says, louder. “I thought you didn’t care about him, Wardo.”

　　“Well,you caught me!” Eduardo yells, voice cracking, arms wide, and Mark looks down again. He hates when people yell.

　　“Eduardo,” he says quietly.

　　“I just- I need to be by myself right now, Mark, okay I need to work some stuff out.”

　　“What kind of stuff” Mark says, suddenly terrified out of his mind. Fuck. Fuck.

　　Eduardo doesn’t look up from his phone. “Just family stuff,” he says, voice flat. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

　　“Okay,” Mark says, standing up. “Okay.”

　　He shuts the door behind him and sits down heavily on the steps of Eduardo’s apartment building. He does not- he can not fuck this up.

　　---

　　Eduardo doesn’t call the next day, and Mark nearly wears the button off his phone from checking so often. That evening Eduardo leaves for Greece, and he still hasn’t called, and Mark fucked up. He is so scared that he fucked this up.

　　And as usual when he fucks up, he talks to Chris.

　　Chris is at his desk, typing furiously, and Mark knocks cautiously. He’s finished most of his actual assigned work for the day, and unless the President kills someone or gets killed himself he’s fine.

　　“Yeah,” Chris says, and Mark spits out the string of his hoodie.

　　“You heard about Wardo’s dad,” Mark says, leaning against Chris’ desk.

　　“Of course. How is he”

　　“How is he He should be fine. It’s - fuck, it’s the enemy, isn’t it, Chris”

　　“Well,yeah, but it’s his family.”

　　“He fucking hates him!”

　　Chris looks up, cocks his head.

　　“Wait, who”

　　“I don’t know. Eduardo. His father. They- he’s a bad person.”

　　“Oh, fuck, Mark.”

　　Mark zips and unzips his hoodie guiltily.

　　“You leaked it”

　　“I thought he was going to be happy,” Mark mumbles, and Chris shakes his head.

　　“You are such an awful excuse for a normal human being,” Chris mutters, and Mark sticks the string in his mouth again. His eyes hurt. He’s exhausted and he’s terrified and if he loses Eduardo he has no idea what he’s going to do.

　　“Mark. Hey, Mark.”

　　Mark shakes his head, looking away, knee jittering, and Chris stands up and puts his arms around him.

　　“Hey. He’s- it’s going to be fine. What did he say”

　　“Said he needed to work some stuff out,” Mark says weakly, arms at his side, and Chris keeps an arm around him, sits next to him.

　　“I can’t fucking- I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

　　“I know.”

　　“What do I do”

　　Chris sighs, and stands up. Mark’s hunched over, scratching at his arm with the other hand.

　　“Just explain. No- don’t explain. Just apologize.”

　　Mark snorts.

　　“I know that’s not your strong suit. But as the press director of the fucking White House, I’m really really good at it. And you need to.”

　　Mark laughs, and Chris slaps him on the knee. “You can do it. Just think about Eduardo, about how much you care about him-” Mark ducks his head, going hot- “seriously, Mark, and then say sorry. A bunch of times. As many times as it takes.”

　　Mark nods, and Chris sits down at his desk again. “Now get out. I have to fix someone else’s problems.”

　　“Thanks,” Mark says unwillingly, and Chris makes a simultaneously annoyed and worried and fond face and waves him out.

　　---

　　Eduardo’s still gone the next night, and Mark calls him at two AM.

　　He’s sitting at his desk, head throbbing, and it feels eerily reminiscent of that night when he’d fucked everything up before.

　　Except Eduardo sighs when he picks up the phone, and he doesn’t sound warm.

　　“Mark,” he says instead of “hello”, and Mark is silent for a second.

　　“Hey,” he says finally, when Eduardo coughs pointedly. “I- how’s Greece”

　　“Stressful. What is it, Mark”

　　“I just-you said you’d call. Before you left. I hadn’t heard from you.”

　　Eduardo exhales. “I’ve been emailing you all day, Mark.”

　　“Not- not that. You know what I mean.”

　　There’s a silence.

　　“I’m just trying to work some shit out,” Eduardo says, and Mark squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on keeping his breath steady.

　　“Wardo-”

　　“I need to sleep, Mark. I’m so fucking jetlagged. Okay”

　　“Yeah,” Mark says reluctantly.

　　“I just- we’ll talk tomorrow. Or Wednesday. My schedule is insane here.”

　　“Okay, I just-”

　　“Good night, Mark.”

　　“I miss you,” Mark blurts out. “I- good night.”

　　He hears Eduardo breathing, and folds an automatically defensive arm across his chest.

　　“Bye,” Eduardo says softly, and hangs up.

　　Mark leans back in his chair, breath coming too fast, panicky. His head is pounding. He is scared.