Chapter Text
He doesn’t kiss Wardo when he gets back to his ICU room, but it has nothing to do with him not being interested. He just doesn’t think Wardo would appreciate being outed this way in front of his mom, and contrary to rumors, Mark does have a feeling for tact – it’s only that he chooses to spend his time on more sensible things than wasting it with being tactful.
“Really, you shouldn’t have -- ”
“But I did, and it’s my prerogative as your mãe to do it,” Wardo’s mom calmly explains whatever thing that seems to agitate Wardo at the moment. Mark suspects tact would require him to leave undetected, but Wardo looks upset and as much as Mark has grown to like and respect Mrs. Saverin, Wardo is his priority right now.
“Hello, Mrs. Saverin,” he says and walks to Wardo’s bed. He barely refrains from putting his hand protectively on Wardo’s shoulder, but Wardo seems to relax in his presence nevertheless.
“Hello, Mark,” she says, “I was just telling Wardo that I bought an apartment here in Manhattan.”
“And I told you that I’m perfectly fine with the apartment I -- ”
“You’re not going back there, Eduardo,” she says, her lips forming a small line, and suddenly Mark understands. From all he’s heard and seen and researched, Wardo’s apartment must be horrible to look at. And from the way Wardo’s mom looks, distraught and pale, she probably saw the photos from the apartment. “And you won’t be allowed to fly for a while,” she explains, “so -- please -- let me do the one thing I can do and provide you a comfortable residence while you’re here.”
“Foi mal, mãe,” Wardo says quietly and squeezes her hand. “And thank you.”
Wardo’s mom doesn’t reply, and before Mark gets the chance to back her up, they’re ushered out of the room by one of the doctors, because he needs to check on Wardo. Mark is really, really sick of this, but he hasn’t the time to complain, because Wardo’s mom is leaning against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. It rattles him to see her like this, and he doesn’t know what to do at first, because he’s more or less exhausted his social competence reservoir the last few days. But then, this is Wardo’s mom, and he tries to do things that make Wardo happy -- making sure that his mom is okay is probably pretty high on the happy-list.
“You okay? I mean … um … obviously, you’re not, but is there anything I can do?” he asks hesitantly.
“No, and I apologize for this,” she opens her eyes and straightens, “It’s just … ” she trails off.
“You saw the photos from the apartment, right?”
She stares at him for what feels like an endless minute, as if she’s trying to decide whether he can stomach the truth or not. “Yes,” she finally says. “And he’s not going back there.”
“That bad?”
“There’s stuff no amount of bleach will get out,” she replies and his stomach revolts a bit. They spent a few moments looking at an ominous point at the wall, before she gently touches his arm. “It’s a two bedroom apartment and it has wireless,” she quietly says and he shoots her a questioning look (and no, he’s not panicking, not at all), but she simply smiles softly at him.
“Okay,” is all he can get out (he starts to suspect Wardo’s mom would actually stop the Brazilian mafia from hurting him unless he goes and breaks Wardo’s heart all over again -- it’s unsettling and comforting at the same time).
“Then please tell him I’ll be back tomorrow morning. It’s already late, and I have to finalize the contract for the apartment.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Mark,” she says, nods at him and leaves.
---
“The apartment has two bedrooms. and wireless,” he tells Wardo, once he’s back in his room (he’s also holding Wardo’s hand, but he thinks he doesn’t need an excuse for this now that he’s Wardo’s boyfriend -- it still gives him a rush of warmth to his chest to carry this title).
“Two bedrooms and -- oh.” And Wardo suddenly has this deer caught in the headlights look, which instantly makes the warmth leave Mark’s body.
“I mean … not that I want to imply anything, it’s just that Dustin put me on the Most wanted list from the FBI or something, and I can’t board a plane anyway because of it -- ”
“You can’t leave,” Wardo interrupts him quietly, and now he looks as if Mark’s sole purpose in life is to kill Bambi. That doesn’t bode well, and he knows they’ve been here before, at the crossroad between misunderstanding and making it right, and he screwed up before. So he racks his brain to find out what he said this time to make this look on Wardo’s face appear.
“No, wait -- ” And then suddenly it makes ‘bling’, and he understands and his eyes go wide. “Oh God, no! I didn’t mean it that way! And I could probably hack the FBI database and change whatever Dustin has done anyway, you know that, but that’s not the point, Wardo!” And he probably squeezes Wardo’s hand more than is strictly necessary, but he has to get his point across. “The thing is, I don’t want to! I want that second bedroom! Hell, I’d even sleep on the couch if there weren’t a second bedroom. Or the floor. Really, I couldn’t care less about sleeping arrangements as long as it’s somewhere near you.”
“So my mom didn’t pressure you into this? What about Facebook?” Wardo asks, still wearily.
“Wireless, and I can code anywhere as long as I have my laptop. Seriously, you already know that.” He makes a face. “And your mom freaks me a bit out with all she seems to know, but I actually think she’d protect me from the Brazilian mafia if push comes to shove.”
“The Brazilian mafia?” Wardo asks, while smiling that ridiculously big grin of his. Mark exhales a long breath, because that means everything is okay now, and he slowly loosens his death-grip on Wardo’s hand.
“Nevermind. By the way, Dustin and Chris say hi. And Dustin says I’m to kiss you again, but I don’t really need Dustin to tell me this,” he says and bends down to do as he was told (This is probably a high he’ll never get used to, he thinks happily).
---
As it turns out, Mark is right about the kisses. It’s been two weeks and kissing Wardo is still as exciting and awesome as the first time. It’s even better now that there is no oxygen line in the way anymore. A lot of other cables have gone as well once Wardo had been released from ICU, and Wardo’s resulting wider range of movement has made the kisses even better than Mark had dared to imagine. Wardo is an excellent kisser, and judging from the sounds Wardo makes, Mark isn’t that bad either (and thank God for the private room, which means the nurses only appear at scheduled and easily figured out times).
Walking is still a bitch, though, and Mark hates the way Wardo pales more and more after each step. To the bathroom and back takes them half an hour, but Mark tries his best to stay positive. After all, Wardo walks, he laughs, he eats and he drinks, and if he still sleeps half the day away and needs some time to catch his breath after a walk, Mark doesn’t care. Because then he sits there, holding on to Wardo’s hand, and waits (he never thought he wouldn’t mind waiting, but this is Wardo and it seems as if this is the explanation for a lot of things).
“And you’re really sure you -- ”
“Yes, I am,” he says once again and tries really hard not to roll his eyes. Seriously, Wardo knows how single-minded he can be. “And you do know what the definition of insanity is? Doing -- or in your case asking the same question over and over again and expecting … ”
“A different result. Yes, I know,” Wardo says and ducks his head, embarrassed. He’s finally in normal clothes again (a plaid button-down and jeans, so maybe a bit underdressed for his standards, but a thousand times better than the hospital gown), and they’re waiting for the doctor to sign the release papers. Wardo has been nervous the whole morning, as if he expects something to stop them last minute from leaving the hospital behind.
“Hey,” Mark says gently and sits down next to Wardo on the bed, so close that they touch. Wardo looks unsure at him before he bends his head again, determined to study his shoes. “I’m not leaving, okay? Been there, done that -- it sucked. So, don’t make me leave again.”
“I don’t want you to -- ” Wardo’s head snaps up in horror, then he sees the grin on Mark’s face.
“See, we’re on the same page here, and there’s absolute no reason to rehash this question once again.” Which is not entirely true, because even Mark isn’t as deluded as to think that Wardo has no reason to not believe him, he just hopes that Wardo believes him nevertheless. Because it’s true, and Mark would explain why he won’t leave in code if he thought Wardo would understand it.
“Sorry, I’m just … ” Wardo lets his head rest on Mark’s shoulder. “As stupid as this may sound, but this here … it’s like a safe haven for us, but outside … things are going to be different, Mark.”
And of course Mark knows that, because the world isn’t rainbows and roses, but has Christy and Wardo’s dad and a lot of other people who’ll probably frown upon them. But then, when was Mark ever the person to actually pay attention to what people thought about him (only Wardo matters, he thinks)? “I know, but can you give us at least the benefit of a doubt?” he asks. “Because this -- I don’t want to give up on this before we had a chance to really … I don’t know, see where it leads?” He holds his breath while he waits for Wardo’s answer.
“Okay,” Wardo finally says, and Mark relaxes against him.
---
“Oh my God,” Wardo breathes when they enter the apartment his mom had bought (top floor, 24/7 security -- Mark absolutely has to buy that woman flowers).
“Yep, that seems an adequate reaction,” Mark says, his arm securely wrapped around Wardo’s upper body. Elevator or not, they still had to walk a bit and he wants Wardo to sit down on the couch before his knees give way. Mark has no clue about interior design, but he likes the apartment. It’s bright and spacey and has a huge glass front and a patio overlooking Central Park. So yes, maybe Wardo’s mom has trouble expressing her feelings directly, but she surely knows how to convey them via real estate.
“Shit … this … she shouldn’t have … ” Wardo trails off when he sinks down on the couch.
“I’m really glad that she decided to ignore you,” Mark says and spots his suitcase next to what he believes is the door of one of the bedrooms. He is about to grab and put it in what probably is his bedroom, when the doorbell interrupts him.
It’s Chris and Dustin, and before Mark can really process this he’s being buried under hugs (and okay, he’s been getting better with touches, but they’re not Wardo and this is entirely too much, thank you very much).
“We couldn’t wait any longer, Mark.”
“ -- booked the next flight as soon as you told us they’d release Wardo.”
“Where is he?”
“His mom actually sounds really nice on the phone -- ”
“Wardo!” Dustin yells, loosens his death grip on Mark’s shoulders and goes to hug Wardo, who got up and is now leaning against the kitchen counter. Mark is ready to growl at him to go easy, but Dustin doesn’t need a reminder that a tight hug will probably hurt Wardo and earn him a verbal smackdown from Mark.
“Good to see you up and around, man,” Dustin says, grinning from ear to ear.
“Seems like Mark took good care of you,” Chris says and draws Wardo into a quick hug.
“Yeah, he has,” Wardo says and would anybody smile the way he does, Mark would call it stupid, but it’s simply adorable on Wardo. “And what are you doing here? What about Face -- ”
“Uh no,” Dustin raises a finger to stop him. “Don’t say the f-word. We’re on vacation.”
“You do realize that you just equaled Fa -- ”
“Shush,” Dustin says, this time with more emphasis, and Wardo and Chris laugh. Some corner of Mark’s brain reminds him that he should be in panic because for all means and purposes nobody is watching over Facebook right now, but he’s somewhat ridiculously glad that Chris and Dustin are here, that it’s four of them again. He can’t bring himself to freak out because of that (which doesn’t mean he won’t fire Chris and Dustin if they didn’t take care of the site before leaving for New York).
“I’m hungry, do you have something to eat?” Dustin asks now, and Chris rolls his eyes at him.
“Please excuse him, he left his manners on the West Coast.”
“I never had them to begin with,” Dustin replies good-heartedly when he opens the fridge and his eyes go wide. “Woah … that looks like sandwiches, and salad, and … is that tuna? I think that one is for you, Mark. Who wants chicken sandwiches?” He asks and throws the tuna at Mark, who catches it with his right hand. “Your mom is awesome, Wardo,” Dustin says impressed.
“I’ll let her know,” Wardo says with a smile. “Want to eat outside?”
Of course they want to, so ten minutes later (walking is still slow, but nobody comments on it, they have all the time in the world) they sit in the bright sunshine on the patio and eat sandwiches and tuna. It feels ridiculously surreal and good at the same time, and if Mark sits closer than strictly necessary to Wardo, none of them cares.
“How long are you staying?” Wardo asks between two bites.
“Two days … well, if you don’t mind?” Chris says. “We have a hotel on -- ”
“Hotel? No way. You can stay here. We have a second bedroom”, Wardo explains, and Mark forgets what he’s wanted to do with the tuna on the fork. He had kind of expected to sleep in the second bedroom, but unless Wardo wants him to take a hotel (which he doesn’t, Mark knows that) it means that …
“Oh,” he says, and Dustin has the audacity to laugh at him.
“I mean,” Wardo coughs and blushes a bit when he looks at Mark, “unless you don’t … ”
“No, don’t be silly.” And before … well, before everything, Mark would have probably taken the easy way out and said something along the lines of it’s less complicated for everyone this way, and it wouldn’t have meant a thing, but he wants to believe he has changed. “That would be great.”
Behind Wardo’s back Dustin feigns to faint and Chris slaps his head, but they all grin, and it’s a warm summer day, and Mark grabs Wardo’s hand and Wardo squeezes back.
So yes, maybe Mark has no idea where any of this will lead, but for the first time in a really long time he’s not scared of the unknown.
- fin