Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Please, Mark!" Ethan grasped his hands together, eyes wide and pleading.

"Ethan, I already said no," Mark exasperatedly said as he placed their used dishes in the sink.

 "Come on! I need you to do this for me, pleaseeeee! When have I ever asked for anything?" Ethan begged, bending into Mark's space at the sink.

  "Hm, let me think," Mark said sarcastically, "Building your gaming chair, fixing your camera and oh, yeah, putting away your dishes,"

  Mark nodded at the dishes in his hand and eyed him with an incensed expression glued on his face. Typically Ethan would suggest something insane, Mark would denounce his goofy bullshit, and then Ethan would find another concept to get obsessed with. This time was different somehow. And while Mark would sometimes get roped into Ethan's plans once he shot those puppy dog eyes and lopsided smirk at him, this time wouldn't. He couldn't.

  "Oh, come on," Ethan whined and damn it, the puppy eyes had arrived.

  Mark sighed hastily, closing his eyes, partly to block out Ethan's whining and catastrophic dimples. What Ethan proposed could only end in disaster for their friendship and shared channel.

  It all started when Ethan was invited to this office party that his nemesis at the company was hosting. Some guy named Ricky or Randolph or something. At first, he affirmatively said no to the offer considering he would rather cut off his toes individually before interacting with that man all night. But then his boss joined in the conversation and briefly mentioned the promotion Ethan had been striving for ever since he began as an intern for the company. He talked directly to Ethan about attending the stupid party, gushing about how he should have some fun for once, and Ethan agreed, only wanting to get on his good side. 

  "This is entirely your fault, Ethan!" Mark proclaimed.

  "Hey, it's not my fault Richard is an ass-munch and started going on about his fantastic wife and being all like, 'Oh, Ethan, you aren't bringing anyone right?' in the smuggest damn voice I'd ever heard!"

  Ah, yes, Richard.

  "Ethan," Mark deadpanned.

  Ethan gnawed on his lip, staring Mark down until finally he resigned the battle and sighed drearily, "Ok, fine, it was my fault,"

  "And how  was it your fault?" Mark pushed, raising an eyebrow like an upset parent.

  Ethan's eyes slanted, and he rolled them before answering, "It's my fault for telling them my wonderful, fantastical boyfriend would be coming too,"

 Mark threw his arms as if to say 'see?' and continued scrubbing the dishes. 

  "You're really going to let me look like a complete ass in front of Richard tonight?" Ethan inquired, resting his hand on Mark's shoulder.

  'Better than pretending to date you,' Mark thought to himself. 

  For years, Mark had been shoving down his emotions for this boy so he could stay in his life and with what he was asking, he would have to give that all up. Spend one amazing night being able to kiss and touch Ethan with no worries about affecting their friendship and then be heartbroken for the next 364 days of the year. 

  "Please, Mark," Ethan's dough eyes clouded his vision, "I really want that promotion. I've been working my ass off for years!" 

  Damn it, Ethan knew his weak spot. And Ethan wasn't bluffing. The number of times Ethan had stayed up even later than him, which was an incredible feat, to finish a project, was astronomical. He had worked at this company since he was eighteen, desperate to make his way up the ranks. His eyes skirted over Ethan, landing on his weary expression. He could be one manipulative son of a bitch, but Mark felt the sincerity radiating from him. Presented through the flicker of tangible fear in his eye alongside his twitching muscles. 

  This was where the issue began and ended for Mark, which started when Ethan was a humble teenager and Mark a lonely hardworking hardass. And they worked together too well. This was prevalent by starting a Youtube channel together to pass the free time, which Ethan consistently alleges he has even though he works almost all day on flow charts and slogans. And after a while, it all just clicked for him, not wild and rapid as some claim love to be but slow and willing. One hand was always on the trigger, ready to shoot his shot but held back by many factors.

  Mark let his gaze sit for a couple of seconds longer, let himself remain selfish in his thoughts and how he was totally going to lose this battle. He couldn't resist watching the adorable way Ethan ran his tongue over his lips constantly when he was nervous, leaving a sheen of spit shining and drawing Mark's eyes to them like crystals. How did anyone expect him to resist falling for Ethan's eccentric personality and sparkling raw amber eyes? 

  "Fuck," Mark huffed, eyes landing on the ceiling as he recognized how awful an idea this was, "Fine, I'll do it,"

  Ok, there was one thing more fun than watching Ethan nervous, and that was him excited.

  "Really!?" Ethan exclaimed, eyes popping out of his head as he jumped up and down, "You mean it!?"

  "Only," Mark continued, "If you learn how to clean your own fucking dishes, lazy-ass,"

  "Fuck, yeah!" Ethan hollered, fist-pumping the air, which made Mark snicker, "Won't let you down, papa bear!"

  Mark groaned and rubbed his forehead, knowing it was concerning that he found even the use of that weird nickname charming. 

  "So as your 'boyfriend,'" Mark grimaced, "what exactly do I have to wear?"

  "It's business casual, Marky-moo," Ethan teased, his tongue poking out childlike, "Button-down and jeans should do it,"

  "But have you considered my green t-shirt with a dinosaur?" Mark asked eyebrows raised, "Could make an impression, Ethan,"

  Ethan rolled his eyes and picked up his keys which were on the granite counter, "Not a good one, Mark,"

  He strode over to the front door, eyes still twinkling with victory, making Mark bite his cheek to stop smiling. He had to pretend he was somewhat upset about being forced into this. Ethan turned the brass knob but stopped before heading out of the door.

  "I'll pick you up at eight," Ethan turned his head and winked dramatically, "Boyfriend,"

  With that exaggerated exit, Ethan grinned widely and bounced jovially out the door, humming an unknown tune. A half-washed glass floated mid-air in Mark's hand as he processed all the loveable and infuriating qualities of his counterpart. 

  "Ok, we met at a Frank Ocean concert about a year ago," Ethan explained in the Uber while adjusting his collar, "You asked me out and—"

  "Hey!" Mark exclaimed, "Why am I the one who asked you out?"

  Ethan rolled his eyes at Mark's defensive tone, "Fine, Mark, I asked you out...happy?"

  A slow but patent smirk grew on Mark's face as he succeeded in getting a rise out of Ethan, "Very,"

  "Control freak," Ethan mumbled, checking his watch for the billionth time.

  There was a meagre tremble to Ethan's voice which hinted at Mark to his anxiety way before Ethan started to pick at his fingernails, nervous habit number two. Mark placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

  "Hey," his voice lowered, "Everything is going to be fine, ok?"

  Ethan swallowed apprehensively but nodded, all the same, trying to calm his breathing.

  "Besides, if you mess up, I have enough natural charisma to get us through this entire night,"

  Ethan huffed out a chuckle which meant Mark had completed his mission.

  "Can't believe I'm dating a total narcissist," Ethan teased.

  Internally Mark knew it was a mindless joke about their current predicament, but hearing Ethan refer to him as his boyfriend sent a flutter of nerves crawling up Mark's spine.

  "You gotta admit narcissism looks hot on me,"

  Ethan snorted and shook his head, his gaze clear from stress. 

  "We've made it, sir," Brady, their Uber driver, declared.

  Ethan wiped his sweaty palms down his pant legs while Mark checked his reflection in the mirror.

  "Thank you," Ethan said with a sweet smile and grabbed Mark's hand to pull him out of the car, "Come on, sweetheart,"

  Mark's eyes narrowed at him pretending to be disgusted with the pet name while his blood boiled from the heat swirling in his chest. Before he could respond, a well-dressed man who was linked arm-in-arm with an attractive young woman approached them. The man had a defined jawline, while his other features were soft. Wide oval eyes sparkling with nefarious delight set by a smile curved upwards, unlike Ethan's effortless one in so many ways. His partner held a completely different look. Her eyes were almond-shaped and coloured to fit, while her perfectly straight teeth gleamed underneath the street light. 

  "Ethan! I'm glad to see you made it!" his tone was sickly sweet, fake tone and presentation.

  Ethan's happy smile soured at the tone, but to his credit, he didn't let his hatred of this man replace the mirth in his eyes.

  "Richard," Ethan leaned onto Mark, which sent a spike of fire through him and a shiver of resentment through Richard based on his twitching smile, 

"This must be Abigail. It's lovely to meet you,"

  When talking to Abigail, Ethan's tone altered significantly, his marketing degree coming to full use. Abigail tucked a piece of honey-coloured hair behind her ear and returned the pleasantry.

  "Likewise," her voice was soft and elegant, punctuated by a slight southern twang.

  While Ethan had been the only person on his radar for a long time, this woman would have been a contestant if there were a competition for his affection. Subtly he checked out her ample features without notifying the other people around them. Short with lascivious curves that sent any man or women's mouth-watering. 

  "And who is this fine gentleman?" Richard's snooty voice pricked Mark like a needle drawing his attention back.

  Ethan wrapped an arm around him, which didn't feel unnatural since Ethan was an affectionate individual without all the fake pretences. Playing up his act to make Ethan proud, his lips spread into a broad grin. The one he used countless nights to charm conquests.

  "Mark," he extended his hand politely, "I've heard so much,"

  Ethan coughed to cover a snicker and squeezed Mark's shoulder in warning. Mark kept his gaze on Richard. Intimidation through passive-aggressive kindness was too much fun. 

  "Strange," Richard countered, "I haven't heard much about you at all,"

  Abigail, attempting to be slick, shoved her elbow into Richard's side with her purse, producing a wince from him. So at least one of them knew how to be civil. 

  "Why don't we head inside? The air is getting a bit nippy," Abigail suggested motioning to the door of the building. 

  Bless Abigail's kind southern heart. 

  "Couldn't agree more," Ethan chimed happily.

  They began walking, and Mark tried to ignore the fact Ethan grasped his hand again. The ride up the elevator was more than awkward as Ethan attempted to converse with Abigail through Richard's interruptions. No matter what he said, Richard would use it to either jab at Ethan or compliment himself. Mark was gritting his teeth, trying to quell his frustration as he felt Ethan's self-esteem go under attack through and through.

 "So, how long have you been at the company?" Abigail sweetly inquired, her tone speckled with disappointment in Richard as well.

  Ethan sucked in a deep breath, probably preparing himself for another cut-off from Richard. And as it were—

  "Couple years, right Ethan? I believe he first started as an intern while I was in my third year. Took a while to climb the ranks, didn't it, bud?" 

  Mark bit his lip to the point of blood vessels bursting. This fucking guy was really trying to call out Ethan for being inexperienced? He had done more to serve this company than dickbag Richard since he runs his mouth more than he works. An angry flush rose Ethan's neck, and he could see the frantic energy glaze over his eyes. Mark needed to step in before Richard was a corpse on the floor.

  "You're right, Richard," Mark jumped in, all eyes turning to him, "and soon he'll be promoted despite being so new! Truthfully I always thought this company could use a....younger touch,"

  Yeah, take that, you jackass. 

  Ethan hid his gaping mouth behind his hand as Richard snapped his gaze away from Mark's knowing eyes. Fake boyfriend or not, Mark would not stand here and listen to this little bitch put down Ethan. Even Abigail was biting back a smile, the scintillating amusement in her eyes giving her away. 

  Finally, they landed on the top floor, which was prevalent by the low humming music pouring in through the slit of the elevator door and the pleasing soft ding that alerted all of them. 

  "And here we are," Richard said, regaining his superior poise.

  As the elevator doors slid open, a few dozen people turned to glance at who was arriving, which sent a tremble of unease through Mark. For how outgoing he appeared in videos, Mark was a purebred introvert who would rather be eating popcorn and watching movies alone than making small talk with boring business people. Still, it was all about appearances which he prided himself on.

  "Richard, Ethan! You made it!" 

  A small man with a balding patch in the centre of his head, easily visible due to his height, rushed over to them. Mark wracked his brain for the name Ethan gave him but came up empty, feeling guilty at his short-term memory. 

  "And this must be Abigail and Mark. It's truly a pleasure" he grabbed Mark's hand, shook it vigorously, dropped it and gave Abigail the same treatment.

 In this day and age, Mark was surprised by the progressive nature of this office, opening their arms to a same-sex couple. Then again, the company was going through some changes. Mark wasn't kidding when he boasted about Ethan's age. The company started to hire younger employees once Ethan became a full-term employee.

  "Pleasure is all mine," Mark hastily said, tacking on an effortless smile.

  "Same goes for me," Abigail laughed, cheeks rosy and eyes bright.

  "Well, come on. Go grab some drinks and enjoy this lovely Friday evening away from your desks!" 

  The man hurried over to a much younger woman, who donned a leopard print shawl and black sequin dress. Mark concealed his judgemental frown by coughing into his hand and turning to Ethan. Ethan's wide eyes showed he was feeling the same way he was.

  "Well, I'll see you, boys, later. Enjoy yourselves, alright?" Richard sneered and threw on a grimy wink.

  Ethan and Mark nodded, enthusiasm dulled by their disinterest. Richard pulled Abigail along, who sent them a small wave and apologetic smile.

  "So," Ethan smirked, "What do you think?"

  "Oh, we hate Richard," Mark said hushedly.

  Ethan chuckled and grabbed Mark's hand to pull him along, "Thought so,"

  "And what about Mr. Monopoly Man over there, whose only missing the monocle?" 

  "Mr. Buddington?" Ethan clarified and added, "Whatever do you mean?"

  "Well, if that hot side-piece isn't Mr. Buddingtons daughter, then I've never seen a more ostentatious sugar daddy,"

  They stopped at the drinks table, and Mark watched Ethan pour Ginger Ale into two glasses.

  "What? You don't think he could get her on his own terms?" Ethan asked with a grin that meant he knew the answer.=

  Mark scoffed and grabbed the drink from Ethan's hand, taking a brief sip before continuing, "He has the appearance of a mouldy lemon Ethan, do the math,"

  Ethan lost it at that one, ginger ale running down his chin through half-stilted coughs and giggles. Mark rolled his eyes and picked up a red napkin from the table leaning over to dab the liquid off of Ethan's chin before he could think against it. Their eyes met, and the napkin and Ethan's eyes darkened, which halted Mark's movements. Ethan stopped Mark's crazed internal worrying that he just gave himself away by smiling affectionately.

  "Thanks, babe," Ethan teased, laughing still.

  Mark laughed with him after a short delay trying to play it off like he was just really good at his role and genuinely relieved that Ethan unknowingly gave him an out. Ethan let him wipe his chin a couple more times before grabbing the napkin out of his hand to finish the job himself. Mark silenced his nerves by taking a long sip from his cup, so lost in thought, he didn't really taste the sugary drink anyway.

  "Why soda for you? Not planning to get drunk tonight?" Mark questioned, a teasing aspect to his voice alongside actual interest.

  Ethan bumped their hips together lightly as he finished licking off the remnants of soda on his face.

  "What? And leave you to deal with my sloppy drunk ass? Nah, we're partners in this, dude," Ethan joked, "If you have to get through this night sober, then so do I,"

  Though his words were only those of a considerate friend, Mark couldn't help but flush at Ethan calling him his partner. And also willingly choosing to deal with Richard all night without a drop of alcohol. Hell, Mark was fucking allergic to the stuff, and after a three-minute elevator ride, he was considering chugging the entire bottle of whiskey on the table. Mark's eyes flickered back to Mr. Buddington and his young arm candy laughing obnoxiously loud at one of his jokes.

  "So where did he pick her up? Summer camp or the strip club?"

  "He's a wealthy business owner with looks that could kill—and not in a good way—he didn't have to pick her up anywhere. She found him,"

  Mark hummed deep in thought, not sure how to answer that. His eyes scanned the room, intrigued by the constituents that made up this dull party. The music was as lively as a funeral, and the chatter of everyone combined into one big glob of nonsensical rambling. Mark hated these types of things, which meant he truly loved Ethan by just being here.

  "So what does one do at a business party?" Mark questioned, nervous energy thrumming through him the longer they stood around.

  He wasn't being watched, but in this atmosphere, a glance in his direction felt condemning. 

  "Listen to a bunch of narcissists stroke their egos," Ethan quietly admitted and then slapped him on the shoulder, "Hey! You should fit right in!"

  Mark rolled his eyes and shouldered his hand off of him, "So, who should we talk to first?"

  Ethan didn't miss a beat before responding, "My boss, he's the one handing out promotions on a silver platter,"

  Mark shook the tension in his shoulders and took a deep breath, finding his balance in this crowd-heavy room.

  "Alright, lead the way,"

  The biggest smile he could manage plastered on his face when they joined in the conversation. Buzzwords flew around about leadership and effective communication while Mark listed off as many skills of Ethan's he could without recking the flowing dialogue. Once in a while, Ethan would send him a thankful glance or a smirk that said to tone it down, and Mark followed through. Just as any good boyfriend would.  

  After listening to Mr. Buddington's booming laugh after one of his hilarious anecdotes and trying to ignore his not-so-subtle groping of his wife, Mark needed to find a way to tap out of the conversation without being rude. There was only so much a man could take watching cookie crumbs scatter and stick in his beard while he continued to talk with his mouth open. He had been thinking up an excuse ever since what he called 'Act 2' in his head started, three more people forcing their way over, one of them being Richard. He had toned down the rude remarks about Ethan but spread more narcissistic bullshit about himself. Mark's head was whirring with stories of yacht vacations and the secretary's daughter getting into Stanford. Safe to say he needed to leave before things got explosive.

  He timed everything perfectly, watching for an ample lull in the conversation before subtly glancing at the snack table and letting people notice him doing that. Once the time had come, he jumped into his plan, hoping no roadblocks would get in the way.

  "Oh! It looks like we're running low on drinks," Mark casually commented.

  Hearing a flaw about his wondrous party, Mr. Buddington perked up and walked around Mark to look at the table, "Nice catch, young man! I'll go get more from the storage room,"

  "No! I wouldn't want to drag you away from your vivacious party," Mark swatted his hand as if that would be preposterous, "Hey, I know! Ethan and I can go grab them for you,"

  A grateful smile overlapped Mr. Buddingtons scowl as he handed Mark the keys to the storage room, "Well, thank you, Mark, how thoughtful,"

  "Oh really, it's no problem," Mark, without a sign of underlying motive, glanced at Ethan expectantly, who had a look of awe cemented on his face, "Come on, Ethan,"

  Gracefully Mark whisked Ethan away, linking arms with him instead of dragging him by the shoulder. He kept slipping in and out of his role as he watched their delusion fall on different people.

 "Vivacious? Really, Mark?" Ethan snickered quietly, dropping his head to hide his growing smirk.

  Mark watched Ethan try to restrain himself and smiled giddily, happy that his idea had gone off without a hitch. 

  "You know there's a fatal flaw in this plan?" Ethan whispered secretly, lips dancing close to his ear as lovers do.

  Mark concealed a shiver at the puff of warm breath tingling the skin and scoffed quietly, "And what is that?"

  Mark pulled him into a hallway connected to the cleared-off boardroom where the party was. Now that there were fewer people around, Ethan raised his voice a little.

  "You have no clue where the storage room is,"

  Mark, whose gaze had been forward as he pretended he knew the route, snapped to Ethan, who was smirking at him mockingly. 

  Mark pulled him in closer so they were eye to eye and heard Ethan's small gasp at the surprise move, "Then you better help me,"

  Ethan sighed in annoyance, but the thin glimmer of fondness in his eye dissuaded that.

  "Come on," he huffed and dragged Mark down the dark corridor dimly lit by fading lamps. 

  The music weakened into a low hum as they travelled farther away from the prattling of Ethan's coworkers sucking up to any higher official. Not like Ethan was any better, he supposed, but Mark liked Ethan, so he wasn't on their pedestal.

  As Mark and Ethan searched for any sign of a storage room, Mark viewed the maze-like this office. And what for? This was an advertising building, you would think they'd have marked the hallways with more tact. Hallways led into more hallways, which ended in large boardrooms surrounded by glass and most likely locked. Even if Mark knew what he was looking for, he doubted he'd be able to find it.

  "Ya know, this is kinda like in the horror movie when the killer is hiding in a dark spooky building waiting to slaughter unsuspecting teens," Ethan said, inching closer to Mark.

  "Scared, Eth?" Mark teased, "Don't worry, your big burly boyfriend will protect you,"

  Ethan scoffed, "As if. You'd throw me to, Freddy,"

  Mark hummed in thought, "I do have a thing for sexy burnt skin and fedoras...think he'd let me try it on?"

  Ethan grimaced, but a short laugh plummeted from his mouth, "You will never know how happy I am that in this scenario, I'm already dead, so I never have to see the atrocity that is you in a fucking—"

  "Ethan? Mark? Where you boys at?" Richard's grating voice echoed through the empty hallway, close enough to be around the corner.

  Mark flinched at the abrupt noise of another human while Ethan's eyes widened, first in shock and then in dismay. He motioned for Mark to follow him as footsteps gained volume from down the hallway. The last thing Mark wanted to deal with was fucking Richard right now. Suddenly they were being hunted by something worse than Freddy—an ignorant prick.

  Mark lightened his steps as they tip-toed quietly and quickly down the hallway, hoping the linoleum floors wouldn't pick up the noise. But Richard was as loud as ever and only seemed to be closer. As Mark and Ethan skidded around another hallway corner, frantic enough that their legs almost slipped from underneath them, Mark recalled that one scene from The Breakfast Club. He held back a chuckle, needing to focus on their efforts of escaping, Richard the Bitch-ard. 

  It was hard to see anything in these dark hallways especially considering the doors were marked 'Room 1...2...3' and on. How nondescript could they possibly get? The footsteps behind them seemed to pick up speed, and sooner than later, Mark and Ethan were going to meet their tragic end. The music was amping up, suspense rising as audience members leaned forward in their seats. When Ethan tapped him frantically and pointed to a door across from them. The 't' had faded over time, but 'Sorage' was good enough for him. The music was crescendoing as Mark fumbled with the key, hand shaking as he placed it into the keyhole. 

  "Hello?" Richard exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the walls too close for comfort. 

  "Shit, shit," Mark muttered as he tried and retried to successfully unlock the door.

  "Hurry!" Ethan squeaked, pushing on Mark's back.

  The piss-poor encouragement played little part in Mark finally twisting the doorknob and pulling Ethan by his collar into the room just as Richard's foot appeared around the corner. They were shoved into a tight closet, shelved with toilet paper and cleaning supplies. Ethan pressed his chest into Mark's as they stealthily swung the door closed, with no sign that Richard saw them. Their breathing intermingled as they listened to the sound of footsteps halting in front of the room. Mark's heart thrummed in his chest as Ethan grasped his own mouth to stop any noise from exiting. Thankfully within seconds, the footsteps began again and dulled into a faint clicking noise after a while. 

  Feeling as though the coast was clear, Ethan dropped his hand and turned his attention to Mark, who was staring wide-eyed at him, close enough that he could feel Ethan's breath on his chin. Mark did a double-take of their position, more nervous about how good Ethan pressed up against him felt than Richard finding them. But also, how ridiculous they had been acting as if this was actually a horror movie. 

  Synchronized chortling sputtered from their mouths like a rusty engine, Ethan leaning his forehead onto Mark as laughter wracked his body. They stayed like that for a few moments indulging in the simple pleasure of laughing, Ethan's chest inflating with each deep breath he took. Ethan grasped onto Mark's shoulders for support. Once they regained balance and established goals, Ethan lifted his head, their space still close and connected. A stifled breath flew from Mark as he peered into honey-glazed eyes, raw with emotion.

  "Fucking, Richard," they said in unison, dopey smiles gracing their faces.

  "Are you impressed with how quickly I found the door?" Ethan commented, waggling his eyebrows, "Must be from all my pro-gaming skills,"

  Mark scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Now I know that's not it, considering how shit you are at them,"

  Ethan pushed against him lightly, "Hey, that's not very grateful of you! Seeing as I just saved your ass!"

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Mark replied in a mocking, apologetic tone, "Do you want me to get on my knees for you?"

  Oddly a light blush dusted Ethan's pale cheeks, the contrast deafening. Yet he smirked and looked Mark up and down, forcing him to conceal a convulsion of warmth. 

  "Well, that's certainly one way to repay me," 

  Mark raised an eyebrow, unopposed to Ethan flirting but surprised by it. He glanced down at how close they were and knew exactly where his face would be if Mark got down. Electrifying tension was fizzling between them, and Mark was hav

Electrifying tension was fizzling between them, and Mark was having a hard time assessing what it all meant. It wasn't rare for Ethan to flirt and sometimes even push the boundaries of comfortable platonic friendship, but somehow, this felt different. A proposition of sorts. 

  "And a perfect way to kill time," Mark flirted, licking his lips deviously.

  Ethan wasn't immune to his outlandish claims and snickered at the rebuttal, but that glimmer of interest didn't fade from his eye. They remained in each other's space, Mark's eyes travelling up and down Ethan's face before settling on his lips. They were so close, and years of wanting had made him more desperate than he would care to admit. One push forward, and he wanted to lick the sweet soda off him. Ethan seemed to be figuring things out, his eyes drifting down to Mark's lips in the form of curiosity rather than desire. It was an instance, a fleeting moment in time before Ethan slid sideways and broke the bond. 

  "Well, here are the drinks," Ethan mentioned trailing a finger down one of the boxes.

  Mark followed it with his eyes half stuck in a daydream that he couldn't rid himself of completely. Was Mark only imagining the magnetism drawing them in? Ethan had so effortlessly broken away while Mark hung in the balance, unsure of his next move.

  "As much as I'd love to hide out in here for the next hour," Ethan smiled naturally with a hint of apprehension in it, "I think my boss might fire me if he doesn't get his fix of San Pellegrino,"

  Mark nodded, unable to push any words past his disappointed lips. Of course, he got his hopes up. What alternative was there in a situation where they pretended to be together? Mark needed to just get through the next hour unfazed and then repress this entire experience.

  His boss was happy enough that they brought back drinks, and Mark had to say his and Ethan's acting was impeccable when Richard asked if they heard him in the hallways. He probably was coming to steal the drinks from them or try to place them in some scandal. Ethan did excuse them from the abysmally boring conversation with his boss, which was a huge plus. He'd rather talk to Ethan at the drink table instead of discussing investing in the stock market with Mr. Moneybags.

  "Hey, Mark?" Ethan inquired as Mark poured himself a drink.

  "Yeah?" 

  "I just..." Ethan scratched the back of his neck, "Thank you for coming with me. I know this hasn't been the most fun,"

  Mark's eyebrows rose, unprepared for the sincerity of Ethan's gratitude. A soft smile slid onto his face, and he bit his lip, holding back from ruining the moment with a joke.

  "It hasn't been all that bad," he admitted, "You always make things fun,"

  Ethan's lips twitched into a smile, and he took a small sip from his drink, resolving the conversation before it went anywhere interesting. Something piqued Ethan's care in the distance as his eyes slanted with puzzlement, and his knuckles turned white from him gripping his cup. Mark was about to turn around so he could question Ethan's sudden rigidness when Ethan skimmed a hand down Mark's cheek softly. Mark blinked slowly, eyes watching his hand slip away and graze Mark's chest slowly and purposefully.

  "Ethan, what—"

  Mark cut himself off when Ethan abruptly wrapped his pointer fingers in Mark's belt loops and pulled him closer, staring at him with a dopey affectionate expression overplayed on his face. While Mark's head was running wild with questions, he couldn't bring himself to ask any of them. Having Ethan's attention like this? The dominant playfulness as his hands gripped Mark's sides and squeezed tenderly, one hand drifting further and landing on Mark's lower back. Well, it silenced Mark entirely. Clandestinely, Ethan leaned in, eyes never leaving Mark's.

  "Laugh," Ethan whispered, his soft, breathy tone ripping all air from his lungs. 

  The word confused Mark for how simple it was, yet, he didn't interrogate. A deep, breathy chuckle released from his chest with a level of ease he didn't even know he possessed. The tips of Ethan's ears turned pink at the noise, and Mark needed to figure out what that meant. He wanted to know all of Ethan's quirks and reactions. Ethan didn't back away from his face and, instead, took it upon himself to place his lips delicately on Mark's cheek. Mark's heart fluttered as he brought one hand to the table to steady himself. He was off-kilter from a simple brushing of Ethan's lips. They were soft and smelled like mint chapstick.

  When Ethan pulled back, he gave a final glance over Mark's shoulder and then sighed heavily, a grin spreading brightly on his face.

  "What...what was that?" Mark asked, his tan skin powdered a light salmon.

  Ethan snapped back into normal Ethan mode by blushing fiercely, fiery red spreading up his neck to his cheeks. He rubbed his hands on his pants anxiously.

  "I...um..." he coughed awkwardly, "...I saw...Richard, so I wanted to give him a show,"

  Mark looked over his shoulder for confirmation and saw Richard staring at them disgustedly. Mark shot an overly friendly smile back and felt his pride swell when Richard rolled his eyes and walked away.

  "Good call," Mark said, hearing Ethan murmur in affirmation.

  "Hey...it's getting late. We should probably get going," Ethan gestured to the elevator door, but his movements were robotic.

  Out of nowhere, Ethan was all fake smile, eyes glazed with discomfort. Mark opened his mouth to check if everything was alright when a hand landed on his shoulder.

  "Oh, hello, boys! I hope you are enjoying yourselves?" Mr. Buddington queried.

  All discontent drained from Mark's face as he turned to face him. His hard features softened, worry lines disappearing from his forehead. Yet all he could conjure was a faint smile.  

  "Yes, sir, it has been excellent," Mark said, "But since it's getting quite late, I think we are going to get going,"

  Mr. Buddington clapped his hands together loudly, "Of course! Well, thank you for coming! But I do have a question for you before you go,"

  Ethan and Mark looked at each other curiously, unsure where this could be heading.

  "Listening to your opinions of this office, Ethan, has made me more than interested in what other ideas you may have for the future of this company," Mr. Buddington explained with a grin, showcasing stained teeth, "My wife is having a cocktail party on Saturday, and I was wondering if you'd like to join? And that goes for you as well, Mark,"

  The shock was visible on Ethan's face, highlighted by his agape mouth and enlarged eyes. 

  "Y-Yes, sir, that sounds fantastic,"

  The smile that overtook Mark was genuine and filled with promises of Ethan's future. He deserved the praise and was well on his way to getting promoted. But Mark couldn't help but be selfish for a second. He had been invited, and if he said no, this rouse would be over. No more getting away with his longing stares or caressing touches. It would be back to normal for Ethan and Mark, who were simply friends. Giving that up was harder than Mark ever could have imagined. So without permission, Mark let him have one more moment of greed.

  "I would be more than happy to come," Mark said, overlooking the inquisitive expression settling on Ethan's face. 

  Ethan didn't directly talk to him about it, but the fact Mark accepted the invitation crept its way into every conversation. Focusing on obstructing the ease with which they usually communicated, turning their words static. 

  He came over to the apartment almost every day for filming, but even then, it felt like the line of communication was disrupted. Cut by an invisible force that entered their lives when Mark agreed to be his fake boyfriend. Their videos entailed having great chemistry and long-flowing banter. However, it was like Ethan, and he had forgotten how to do that. The whole point of accepting Ethan's stupid plan was that it would not mess things up between them, but now their whole dynamic was off. Ethan bought his groceries the other day because he noticed Mark was out of milk and bread. Was it amazingly kind and sweet of him? Of course, but that wasn't the point. The point is he had never done anything like that before. 

  Mark ruffled his hair and stretched his neck, joints cracking and popping. Shit, he was being insane. He couldn't argue that their little fake outing didn't add a newfound intimacy to their friendship. One where Mark could brush crumbs off Ethan's lap because he always made such a goddamn mess, or Ethan could buy his groceries without it being considered odd behaviour. Mark simply needed to remember that it didn't mean anything. Didn't mean Ethan liked him or that he wanted him for real. That was his own pipedream to harbour, and he shouldn't displace it on to Ethan because his subconscious wanted to believe that Ethan's feelings were different now. 

  So Mark tried to act natural and pretend he wasn't getting caught out more and more staring at Ethan from afar. What Ethan doesn't know won't hurt him but, more importantly, won't make him leave Mark. That's why he invited Ethan to stay over for a movie night just like they used to, and surprisingly Ethan accepted with little reluctance.

  "Here is your bowl, sir," Ethan said, plopping the bowl of popcorn down in Mark's lap.

  "Hey! Watch out for the goods!" Mark exclaimed jokingly, motioning to his crotch.

  Ethan rolled his eyes and jumped onto the couch farther away than Mark expected. A goofy and amused grin appeared on Mark's face as he tilted his head.

  "Um, Ethan?" he wondered, "I'm not diseased,"

  Ethan's eyes flitted from the screen to Mark, who stared at him with raised eyebrows. Without saying a word, Mark patted the spot next to him, hoping Ethan was bright enough to get that clear message. Ethan nibbled his lip but quickly stopped, probably realizing how nervous that made him look.

  "Right," he laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck.

  The room was dim apart from the TV, which cast most of the light. The bluish glare shadowed Ethan's face shading his features like a sketch. His movements were hesitant as he scooted on the couch, making it sag with his weight. He averted his eyes from Mark, keeping them locked on the opening credits of 'Fight Club'. He was still pretty far from Mark, but Mark wasn't about to complain and incriminate himself. 

  "I still can't believe you've never seen Fight Club," Mark murmured, his tone soft to not interrupt the movie's beginning dialogue.

  "You're surprised I'm not into watching guys fight each other?" Ethan said skeptically.

  Mark eyed him vigilantly, searching for a comeback, but ultimately released a defeated sigh, "Alright, you right, you right,"

  Ethan smirked, his eyes more focused on Mark than the movie. Eventually, he shied away again, attentive to the actions playing on-screen, but Mark could still sense his fidgeting. Uncomfortable with their closeness or something else Mark didn't know.

  As the movie progressed, Ethan's squirming didn't stop. Mark attempted to ignore it as it didn't seem like Ethan was in the mood to discuss it, but when a groan of discomfort slipped from Ethan's mouth, he couldn't stop himself.

  "You good man?" Mark inquired worriedly.

  Ethan kept his eyes on the screen, barely paying attention to Mark, "Yeah, why?"

  Now Ethan was good at many things, but lying was not one of them. While he tried to appear more invested in the movie than in Mark's concerned gaze, the reoccurrence of his lip-biting told a different story.

  "Come on, dude, just tell me," Mark insisted, shoving his shoulder lightly.

  Ethan winced in pain and grasped his shoulder as he clenched his eyes. Immediately Mark sat up and pushed away his bowl, the movie forgotten. He held his hands outwards but didn't touch Ethan.

  "Hey! What's wrong?" Mark exclaimed, examining Ethan's reaction.

  "Fuck," Ethan rotated his shoulder, tensed in pain, "Really, it's nothing. My shoulders have just been killing me the past couple of days,"

  Mark swung his arm to hit him but stopped himself just in time, "God, you are...such a dumbass! Why didn't you just tell me?"

  Ethan made a horrid attempt to shrug his shoulders ending in him groaning, "Fuck, I don't know! I didn't want to concern you!"

  "Jesus," Mark rubbed a hand over his forehead, "Turn your back to me,"

  Ethan raised an eyebrow in questioning but did it. The sounds of grunts and explosions were lost to them, turning into fuzzy white noise as Mark glided his hands gently over his back. Even at that, Ethan tensed, which made Mark bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself from cursing Ethan out. He leaned into the nook of Ethan's shoulder to find Ethan staring, unblinking.

  "Relax," Mark soothed.

  Ethan didn't meet his eye, but he took a giant breath in and then exhaled slowly, which rid most of the tension in his muscles.

  "Good," he praised.

  He heard the sharp intake of breath from Ethan, but he assumed that was due to the actions of Mark's hands. He dug his thumbs into the sore flesh travelling in a curved path, resulting in a series of breathy sighs from Ethan. His mom was a masseuse, so he did pick up a thing or two. He kneaded downwards with his knuckles feeling the knot unravelling under his hands. 

  "Fuck" Ethan sighed, brimming with pleasure. 

  Mark chuckled lowly, which made it come out deeper than he intended. Ethan was feeling looser than before, and the energy shift had passed by both of them. Mark continued to lose himself in caring for Ethan while Ethan relaxed, his head falling backwards at one point before he caught himself.

  "Don't fall asleep on me, man," Mark laughed, his nimble fingers rubbing across the base of Ethan's neck. 

  "You have no clue how good that feels," Ethan admitted.

  "You should never have underestimated by powers," Mark teased, targeting Ethan's pressure points to release the stress. 

  Ethan replied with an airy moan, which sent a cascading shiver down Mark's spine. Suddenly the energy in the room made Mark's skin tingle as if the electrons were skimming across his flesh. Sometimes he got into situations that were not good for his conscious, but here he was. Rubbing the strong and tender back of his friend who frequented his dreams. Mark shoved those thoughts down. This was about helping Ethan, not feeling him up. 

  So he didn't think about the fact he hadn't moved his head away from Ethan's shoulder, which let him view Ethan's face scrunch in pleasure. Not to mention how these circumstances had no excuse to be sexy. There were people literally getting shot on the TV in front of them. So why were Mark's intestines swimming in a pit of heat rising in his chest? He could hear his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he dug the heels of his palms into Ethan's shoulder blades, hearing the satisfying pop that indicated release and Ethan's answering gasp. Which was...unfairly hot.

  "Better?" Mark's eyes were staring lasers at the side of Ethan's face, his tone dropping to a near whisper.

  Ethan tilted his head tinily, but it made all the difference. They were as close as in the closet, a game of cat and mouse arising with every puff of air wafting from their mouths.

  "Better," Ethan affirmed, eyes sharpened on his.

  Mark watched as different colours highlighted Ethan's face from the T.V. Neither moved forward or backwards, stuck in time. Until Ethan coughed brokenly, forcing Mark's head to clear and recognize how astronomically disruptive he was being. Ethan scooted forwards, flexing his back muscles, testing Mark's handiwork.

  "Well, thank you, dude," Ethan said awkwardly.

  "Yeah, no problem, man!" Mark exclaimed, straightening his back and sitting forward again, "Glad—Glad to help,"

  "You did! Really...much better" Ethan smiled, but it was twisted strangely.

  A mantra of curse words reverberated in Mark's head as he ignored the transient scrutinizing looks coming from his friend. Rubbing Ethan's back? That was some fucking couple shit which was off-limits. Unless Mark remarked about method acting, he should keep his hands to himself. For the rest of the movie, Mark yearned to forget how Ethan's skin felt under his hands and hoped he would survive Saturday.

  "Formal? You have got to be kidding me," Mark complained, letting his shoulder hold his phone to his ear.

  Currently, he was studying a suit he hadn't worn since Wade's wedding and didn't want to wear again.

  "What can I say? Mr. Buddington and his wife are classy folks," Ethan replied.

  Mark snorted, "Classy? Ms. Buddington's dress was short enough to draw a crowd,"

  "Well, Mark, she's rich through association—"

  "—Meaning she gets to dress like stripper Barbie?" Mark interrupted with a smirk.

  "Meaning," Ethan continued, "she gets to wear whatever the fuck she wants,"

  Mark rolled his eyes and laid the suit on his bed, having an hour left to get ready before heading over to Ethan's since he lived close to his boss. They hadn't talked about their weird behaviour around each other and forgot about mentioning movie night. All Mark had to do was get Ethan his promotion, and then he was home free from this entire thing. Surely Ethan could make up some story about them breaking up later. Mark told him as such.

  "Ooo, could you tell them I died in a badass plane crash or something?" Mark suggested.

  "You want me to tell people my boyfriend died?" Ethan asked incredulously, "That's so fucking sad!"

  "Fell into a coma?"

  "No!"

  "House fire left me permanently disfigured?"

  "Mark—"

  "Ok, shark attack but survived as a hero...that's my last offer," 

  Ethan sighed exasperatedly, "Deal,"

  "Yes!" Mark hollered.

  He put the phone down and tapped the speaker button. Shedding his clothes so he could get changed into his penguin suit.

  "So this thing shouldn't take too long, alright?" Ethan promised, "Should be back home by eleven,"

  "Sounds good," Mark said distractedly, securing his tie quickly.

  "Ok, see you in an hour then," Ethan replied, "Don't be late!"

  The call dropped, and Mark peered at the phone contemplatively. Their dynamic was more or less back to normal, but Mark knew it would be a matter of time before they had to discuss the residual tension between them. With that final thought, Mark headed to the bathroom to fix his hair, maybe even add some product to tame his wild curls.

  Mark straightened his suit jacket feeling foolish in the getup. Typically Mark would be playing a new videogame with Bob and Wade or preparing video ideas on Saturdays, not going to any party. He knocked on Ethan's door, weirdly anxious to see him as if this was a real date. That was supposed to make this easy; Mark knew Ethan already had his dumb quirks and silly expressions. Yet, Mark felt the least relaxed he had in a while. 

  Then the door opened, and Mark was the picture of carefree confidence. But Mark was certain that the act dropped as soon as it started due to the presence of Ethan Nestor in a dapper suit. Mark swallowed tensely, adjusting his shirt collar even though he didn't need to. Ethan in a suit was something his cognitive centers had a hard time processing. He was wearing a fleece coat around the suit jacket, probably due to the finicky weather, but it didn't take away from the rest of his attire. It was new and exciting to see Ethan so dressed up with a suit jacket trimmed to fit and a shirt that clung to his chest distractingly. There was only one thing askew that was bothering Mark to the point of snapping him out of his eye-fucking.

  "Dude, your tie is fucked" 

  Ethan, who stood oddly still for his personality, cleared his throat exuberantly and stepped forward. He was flushed and couldn't manage to keep his eyes held on Mark as if his life counted on it. Mark couldn't comprehend why Ethan couldn't keep his hands still, bouncing from foot to foot nervously.

  "My tie is fine, you pembis," Ethan joked, albeit falteringly.

  Mark rolled his eyes at Ethan's alteration of the word 'penis' and stepped towards him, "Here, let me," 

  His fingers delicately took hold of the tie, fixing the shitty attempt Ethan gave.

  "So sorry I'm not a tie professional," Ethan said, watching Mark's fingers work. 

  With an amount of concentration and dexterity only Mark would possess while neatening a tie, he pulled the end of the tie through the top and pushed it up to tighten it around his neck. An easy silence fell over the boys as Mark admired his work and Ethan admired his proud expression. A mixture of interest and fondness swirled in Ethan's eyes until he pushed Mark backwards.

  "Come on, dork, time to go see my boss,"

  Mark shoved him back, which Ethan had clearly expected as he regained his footing, smirking at him.

  "How is it that you live a block away from your boss?" Mark questioned, "Seems suspicious to me,"

  Ethan chuckled, "Does it? What are you trying to accuse me of, Fischbach?"

  Mark hummed, caressing his chin with his fingers as detectives do in crime movies.

  "Hidden rendezvous, perhaps?" Mark suggested eyeing Ethan up and down dubiously, "You're his secret mistress, aren't you!"

  Ethan rolled his eyes but clutched his heart suddenly and placed the back of his hand up to his forehead, swooning dramatically, "Yes, Mark, Mr. Buddington and I have been having a torrid love affair for years now,"

  Suddenly he put a hand on his shoulder and winked at him, "How do you think I went from intern to employee so quickly?"

  Mark gasped emphatically and held a hand over his mouth as Ethan nodded boldly.

  "You know I sensed a Clinton—Lewinsky vibe," Mark said.

  Ethan shrugged his shoulders and wrapped his arm around Mark's waist confidently, "Gotta climb the ranks somehow, big boy,"

  "Hey! Who are you calling—"

  "Mark! Ethan!" Abigail exclaimed from the doorstep of a large, animated house, her lovely southern accent colouring the words.

  "Abigail?" Ethan whispered as they headed up the perfectly trimmed lawn decorated with rows of gardenias. "What is—" 

  Mark felt a flowing sense of fear fill his stomach at the same time as Ethan, and they both stopped to share a similar look of displeasing.

  "If Abigail is here..." Mark trailed off, eyes showcasing his urgency.

  Ethan sighed, bleakness emitting from it as Mark's face scrunched in annoyance.

  "Richard," They groaned in unison, quiet enough that Abigail thankfully didn't hear.

  Finally, they had made it up to her level and shared brief hugs. The door was slightly ajar from where Abigail had begun to open it, and Mark could hear the faint sound of multiple conversations coming through. Abigail's presence radiated friendliness, unlike the man who emerged from the shadows behind her.

  "Boys! What a surprise," Richard sneered.

  "We certainly weren't expecting to see you here tonight," Ethan said, striving to keep his tone light.

  "The boss invited me! He and I go way back, you know?" Richard gloated, his chest swelling with pride.

  The fakest smile Mark had ever seen emerged on Ethan's face looking like crackable plastic.

  "Right...well...we better get inside," Ethan advised. 

  "Oh yes! Abigail, did I ever tell you about the time the boss and I went on a trip to Spain—" Richard's voice quieted as he got shoved into the house.

  Ethan and Mark stayed outside for a moment longer, admiring the beautiful house. It shone like a beacon in the dark night. The house was a pale yellow and unexpectedly modest for the wealth Ethan talked about. The windows aprons were adorned with white shapely decor, and a large balcony hung directly above the front door with the same decor along the rails. 

  "Pretty," Mark commented.

  The night breeze was chilling, yet with Ethan by his side, he felt a complete wholeness to him that he ached for. He could stay out here for hours staring up at what could one day be his future.

  "You ever want to live in a place like this?" Mark questioned, watching Ethan's eyes glisten in the darkness.

  "Yeah," he replied, yet it held power, "This is what I grew up in, and it always felt like a home to me. More than any apartment ever has," 

  Mark nodded, leaving the words hanging between them as he tried to shove away the ideas of his future. Better not to wish for something that could easily be taken. The sound of car doors opening broke Mark from his trance, and he quickly clasped Ethan's hand. While his hand was cold, Ethan's was warm from keeping them stoved in his jacket.

  "We better actually make an appearance," Mark joked, and gestured to the door

  Ethan laughed with him and belatedly swung the door open the rest of the way. Instantly, Mark's senses were overpowered, whether it be the number of people or the soft melodious jazz music playing. Expensive perfume and cologne wafted through the air as the crystal chandeliers blinded him with their bulbs. They shimmered like stars in the sky, very expensive stars. Their foyer was wider than Mark expected, and departed into two large rooms. One of them was embellished with a large, black couch and massive flat-screen TV, and the other was a kitchen table with an assortment of empty and half-filled wine glasses on it and large white cabinets. 

  This was nothing like the office party, in fact, it made the office party look like a cheap knockoff in comparison. Men and a few ladies were decked out in suits, some black while others chose white. Most women wore long satin dresses, a colour palette of red, black, white and blue. Even though Mark resembled these people, he felt underdressed in this gathering. He fidgeted with his tie trying, to stave off his anxiety as he searched for a single identifiable face.

  "Hey, you ok?" Ethan inquired, tilting Mark's face to his.

  "What?" Mark exclaimed hastily, "Don't worry about me, I'm fine,"

  Ethan nodded briefly, though the worry glowed brightly on his face, and he pointed into the kitchen, "Look, there's Mr. Buddington,"

  Mark followed his finger and saw Mr. Buddington with his arm wrapped around the waist of his wife, who was no longer dressed cheaply. She was wearing a long black velvet dress that draped on the floor. It accented her features quite nicely, curved fittingly around her waist and legs. Her hair was pinned up into a braided bun, and through the use of brown and grey eyeshadow and a red lip, she appeared elegant and youthful.

  "Someone had a wardrobe change," Mark observed, which made Ethan stifle a laugh. 

  "Come on," 

  He dragged Mark through a group of people who grimaced and scoffed as they pushed past, even though Mark and he were polite. Mark thought about stepping on a particular lady's ugly as fuck white stiletto but restrained himself for Ethan's sake. Mr. Buddington noticed them and grinned brightly, as they arrived at their small gathering.

  "So glad you boys decided to come!" Mr. Buddington patted Ethan on the back harshly.

  Mark hoped for his benefit, the knots in Ethan's back had disappeared since Tuesday.

  "Actually, I'm glad you are here, young man," Mr. Buddington whispered to Ethan though it wasn't very secretive, "I'd like to hear some more of those ideas now if you'd come with me,"

  Ethan nodded happily, eyes wide with mirth. Mark's heart fluttered in joy. Seeing Ethan this happy was a gift, honestly. He never gave himself enough credit.

  "Would you excuse me, Mark?" Ethan asked, unable to dismiss the grin on his face.

  "Of course," Mark replied, winking at him and leaning in to covertly whisper, "Go get 'em, tiger,"

  Ethan's huffed a tiny laugh but nodded all the same and let Mr. Buddington lead him away. As Mr. Buddington took him down a desolate hallway and spoke about this or that, Ethan glanced back at Mark, sending him a hopeful and appreciative smile. Mark, while proud of Ethan, mentally cursed being stuck alone now. He sunk away from the group, which was not hard when everybody focused on talking about their expensive vacations. He searched for a non-alcoholic beverage at this cocktail party and maybe some snacks. His eyes explored the kitchen table until a silver platter caught his eye with a few pieces of cheese and crackers. He headed for it, his mission objective spotted and needed to be fulfilled. Grabbing a piece of cheese and two crackers, he crafted a mini sandwich and stuffed it into his mouth, allowing crumbs to fall freely since he was judged for just being here anyway. 

  "Hungry too?"

  Mark looked up as he swallowed and almost choked at the sudden approach. It was Abigail. Her long flowing hair curled flawlessly, and spotless subtle makeup highlighting her gorgeous eyes.

  "Is it obvious?" Mark inquired, chuckling as he wiped his hands on his pants.

  Abigail giggled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

  "So, how are you enjoying the party?" he asked politely, secretly grateful for the company.

  Her smile faltered as she delicately popped a piece of cheese into her mouth. 

  "It's...fun," she said with little emotion behind the words.

  Mark smiled grimly, "Oof, that bad?"

  She opened her mouth as if to argue against his assumption of her true feelings but then stopped and sighed, eyes falling to the floor.

  "Well, currently, I have been abandoned at the snack table while Richard goes to play poker with his friends," 

  "What a gentleman," Mark commented, crossing his arms, "Want some more cheese?"

  Abigail's lips quirked into a soft smile but shook her head, "I think it's going to take more than cheese to cure this,"

  Mark looked around the room to see if there were any eavesdroppers and then gingerly strode to Abigail's side.

  "What about a secret?"

  Abigail's eyebrows raised as she slowly munched on a cracker, "Consider my interest piqued,"

  Mark chuckled deeply and motioned with his finger for her to come closer. She leaned in, letting Mark get a whiff of the soft notes of her perfume, lilac with a hint of vanilla. 

  "Ethan and I aren't really dating," he whispered faintly.

  Abigail gasped, "You're kidding!"

  Mark shook his head as he crafted another cheese sandwich tactfully and wandered back to the end of the table.

  "I don't believe it," Abigail said, tone full of dubiousness.

  Mark held a hand to his chest, "I swear on this cheese sandwich,"

  Abigail's lips parted in faux surprise, "Ooo, that's pretty serious. I suppose I have to believe you now,"

  "Legally, I'd say so," Mark joked as he popped the creation into his mouth. 

  "Especially since the evidence was destroyed," she rebutted.

  Mark leaned against the table, his stomach feeling warm with contentment. Abigail was not only insanely attractive but funny as well. 

What the hell was Richard doing?

  "Well, I have a secret for you if you'd like it," Abigail said mysteriously, "But I'm gonna need a pinky promise out of you so I know I have your confidentiality,"

  Mark's intrigue grew, and he nodded as he chewed. Without prompting, he stuck out his pinky, and Abigail laced her soft pinky around it.

  "Alright," she said and leaned across the table, scanning the area briefly, "Richard was not invited tonight,"

  Mark's eyes enlarged, and his mouth dropped, "What?"

  "He lied! He heard Mr. Buddington invite you guys and ended up persuading Mr. Buddington to invite him" Abigail smiled widely, her face flushed with delirious excitement.

  "Sorry to say this, but...I'm not as surprised as I probably should be," Mark acknowledged.

  "If I had a drink, I would drink to that," Abigail stated.

  A calm silence fell between them until Abigail sighed heavily and closed her eyes, smiling at the ceiling.

  "You know this is the most fun I've had all night" she opened her eyes and grabbed Mark's arm, "Thank you,"

  "No problem," Mark said cheerfully, "And if I may be so bold...drop fancy pants. If you were mine, I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off of you, never mind leave you for poker,"

  Abigail blushed lightly, and brought her palms to her cheeks to hide it. She bit her lip and rolled it around as she studied Mark casually. 

  "You are very kind," Abigail stated, "But if I may be so bold, you have a good thing in your life, don't wait for it to disappear,"

  Mark's eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what Abigail was referring to. She rolled her eyes and squeezed Mark's arm.

  "You may not be dating," Abigail said explicitly, "But you want to and...he hasn't taken his eyes off of you all night,"

  She winked plainly, grabbed a piece of cheese and quickly turned on her heel, the lingering touch of her hand remaining. Mark huffed out a chuckle, evaluating how surreal that encounter was.

  "Mark!"

  Mark turned, and there he was in all his glory, gleaming like an orb. Ethan grasped his shoulders, excitement showing in every feature.

  "I got it!" he squealed, then quieted down as a few people's heads turned, "I got the promotion!"

  Mark laughed gaily and pulled Ethan into a hug, his heart beating erratically. He felt as though he was the one who got promoted with how exhilarated he was. 

  "Congratulations, Eth," he squeezed harder and ruffled Ethan's hair.

  "It's all thanks to you," Ethan declared quietly, only for Mark's ears, "I couldn't have done this without you,"

  Though Mark would have usually protested, he let the kind words sink into him and thought on Abigail's words. This was his good thing. And if he held on for a little longer, appreciated it a little more, it wouldn't leave him. He was certain of it.

 They had finally escaped the cocktail party at around ten after Ethan forced them to chat with Mr. Buddington and a few other coworkers about planning a company trip somewhere. Mark joked to Ethan that if it was the Bahama's, Mark's storyline as the boyfriend was so not over yet. Now they were walking back to Ethan's place in the delicious crispness of an evening in February. Leaves were fluttering down all around them, highlighted by the moon's glow, and it would be scenic if it weren't so damn freezing. Ethan, as per usual, was talking his ear off, but Mark could stand it tonight. He spoke about his passion for his job, the thoughts he had in place for the company and all the praise he received from Mr. Buddington.

  Mark ached to tell him about Richards's disparity, but he promised Abigail, and though it may not mean anything to her, a promise was a promise. Simply watching Ethan skip down the sidewalk and cheering into the night sky was enough satisfaction. He didn't need to put down Richard. Ethan's achievements did that on their own. 

  The spark of passion in Ethan's voice ignited Mark and made him believe in everything Ethan was saying. Ethan was truly living up to his potential, and that warmed Mark more than anything. Eventually, they made it to Ethan's door, and Ethan was still bouncing ecstatically and punching the air with vehement enthusiasm. 

  "Fuck you, Richard, and your dumb designer pants from Venice!" Ethan hollered, holding his middle finger to the sky, causing Mark to cackle.

 Ethan's bursts of laughter faded into a couple of chuckles and wheezes as Mark held his shoulders to steady him.

  "God, Mark, I wish I could see his face when he finds out I'm getting promoted! That'll teach him to call me inexperienced!" Ethan exclaimed.

  When Mark looked at Ethan, all he felt was sizzling heat brewing inside him, contained but begging to be provoked. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold air, and his eyes twinkled gloriously like the crystals of the chandeliers, like the stars. It was hard to push away these feelings on a night so perfect. When everything had gone flawlessly right, Ethan's hands were wrapped around his biceps, craving the stability Mark was offering. Everything felt like a dream, the wind was no longer rustling the leaves, and the sound of people had dwindled into the air like smoke from a fire. And Ethan was swaggering like he was drunk on life, and Mark wanted a taste.

  Ethan stopped suddenly, not breaking apart from Mark as he gazed into his eyes curiously, "What?"

  Mark swiped his tongue over his lips, hoping that Ethan would obstruct the moment, so Mark was forced to think about the consequences. But Ethan wouldn't budge. He remained stuck in Mark's grip and looked happy to be there.

  "What?" he repeated with more intention, his smile growing with each passing moment at Mark's strangeness.

  Unaware of the flower picking occurring in Mark's brain. Does he love me....does he love me not? All signs pointed to no. This was all a ploy, a game to Ethan. He got what he wanted, and now he would discard Mark back into his regulatory friend position. 

  But Ethan's smile taunted him, his darkening eyes luring him in like a van with candy. If Ethan wanted to use him, then he'd return the favour. Just one thing. That's all he wanted. He released his grip on Ethan's shoulders and, instead, grabbed his face, pulling it in and pressing his lips to Ethan's.

  He was right, Ethan's lips were smooth, slightly chapped, and when Mark bumped his nose, it was a cold contrast. The buildup of pressure in his shoulders loosened, and tingles shot up and down his arms. But that selfish part of him never lasted long, and when he realized what he had done, he pulled away strongly. 

  "Fuck," Mark exclaimed, twisting his hands into his hair, "Fuck!"

  Ethan froze in shock, his fingers tracing along his lips dazedly. Mark paced back and forth, unspoken words swelling his mouth like a balloon.

  "I'm sorry, Ethan, I—I don't know what the hell—"

  "Mark," Ethan said lowly, eyes following Mark's frantic movements.

  "—This was all fake! I know that, ok? It was never supposed to end in me ruining everything, but I just fucking did. God, I promise it was never my intention—"

  "Mark," Ethan repeated loudly, grabbing onto Mark's hips to still him.

  Mark halted, never hearing that tone of voice from Ethan. It commanded his attention.

  "Shut the fuck up," Ethan said slowly and caressed a hand down the side of Mark's face.

  The words triggered earthquakes in his brain as he stared blindly at Ethan. Ethan rolled his eyes and took the initiative to stop any further idiocies from coming out of Mark by silencing him with his mouth. 

Mark's eyes widened as Ethan deepened the kiss, fully participating in it now. He swiped his tongue across Mark's bottom lip, making heat fizz in his fingertips. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft with affection, and he ran his tongue over his tingling lips.

 "I've been waiting for you to do that all night," Ethan confessed.

  "W-what?" Mark inquired, a stunned expression fastened on his face.

  Ethan stroked Mark's cheek with his thumb, looking enamoured with Mark even while he was a complete fool.

  "It might have started fake Mark," Ethan said, "But things changed. I changed."

  "You made me realize that I had been searching for something I had in front of me the entire time, something wonderful,"

  "But....but...." Mark struggled to understand.

  An amused smile appeared on Ethan's face, "Mark, do you remember at the office party when I started feeling you up out of nowhere?"

  Mark nodded, unsure why Ethan was bringing it up. Ethan giggled faintly, looking slightly embarrassed.

  "It wasn't because Richard was looking," he admitted, "I saw a girl checking you out and...it kind of set me off into feral possessive mode,"

  "If you're fucking lying..." Mark breathed out slowly, trying to keep himself together.

  "Nope," Ethan smiled goofily, "This is your same old Wingus talking,"

  Overjoyed and overflowing with emotion, Mark laughed helplessly and dragged Ethan into a hug, breathing in his fragrant pine cologne. Years Mark had been waiting for this moment, and now that it was here, he was having an out-of-body experience like no other.

  "I guess I understand why you were being so weird for the past week," Mark chuckled.

  Ethan laughed with him, their chests pressing against each other with each inhale. The breeze nipped at Mark's ears, shading them pink, but Mark was numb to all sensations other than Ethan's firm hold. Ethan liked him back. This wasn't a dream or fantasy Mark would have to wake up from. Ethan didn't just use him to get some damn promotion. He had fallen somewhere along the way for Mark and was possibly being as selfish as him by holding on for a little longer. 

  "Hey, Mark?"

  Mark hummed, snuggling his face into the soft fabric of Ethan's fleece coat. He was tired from the explosion of emotions finally settling into dust.

  "Wanna come inside?" Ethan's voice shifted into husky.

  Mark tore away from the hug and saw a suggestive grin on Ethan's face as he bit his lip. Not a nervous bite this time though, something much more deliberate. This was more of Mark's area of expertise compared to confessing feelings, yet he behaved a bit shy. Ethan extended his hand, which Mark grabbed with no hesitation and nodded gently. Ethan pulled out his key and unlocked the door, dragging Mark inside. They raced to the elevator, both eager for impending events. Ethan hit the up button repeatedly, making Mark chuckle and squeeze his hand. When the elevator door opened, and no one was inside, all bets were off. Ethan was against the wall in moments, and Mark's lips were on his neck in seconds. Ethan wrapped his legs around Mark's waist and arms around his neck to keep himself stable. He groaned loudly, praying that his neighbours were asleep and not listening to the porno playing in the elevator. 

  Mark's lips moved quickly across the estate of skin, taking time to nip and bite hickeys for him to study later. It's a primitive pleasure Mark allows himself to be interested in though he recoils at even the thought of someone touching his neck. Thankfully he didn't have to explain that because Ethan knew Mark better than anyone. 

  "Fuck, b-button," Ethan moaned, flailing his arm at the button panel.

  Oh, right, they needed to actually move in this elevator if they were ever going to reach their destination. Not taking his eyes off Ethan, Mark scrabbled to hit the fourth button and then continued sucking marks into Ethan's neck. His hand untucked Ethan's light cerulean button-down and reached underneath, yearning to feel the soft skin under his palm. Ethan shivered as Mark's cold hand travelled along his sides and then, his stomach, tracing his abs mindfully. His lips remained in motion, the taste of Ethan's sweat addicting to him. Sooner than Mark would have liked, the doors were dinging open, and Mark had to let Ethan down, or otherwise, he might lose control and hit the emergency button, trapping them in there forever.

  As the scratched metal doors opened like they were two civilized adults and not sex-crazed teenagers, Mark and Ethan walked calmly to Ethan's door. Though if anyone saw Ethan's flushed skin or the obvious hard-on he had, he didn't think it'd be hard to decipher the truth. Ethan slotted his keys in, and the image reminded him of Mark fiddling with the storage room lock so they could hide from Richard. Mark was becoming impatient, running his hands under Ethan's shirt again, hoping to hurry the process up.

  "Needy bitch," Ethan jested. 

  Once the door was open, Ethan had no place to speak as he slammed the door shut behind Mark and shoved him against it in the darkness. Ethan tangled his fingers in Mark's hair as he passionately kissed him, the briefest touches of tongue sending electricity through his body. He could get lost in Mark's lips easily. While Ethan was involved in biting Mark's lip, he busied himself by shucking off Ethan's jacket and unbuttoning the infuriating shirt. Ethan's hot breath drove him wild, and he could still taste the spearmint tic tac Mark offered him when they left the party. Once Ethan's shirt was off, Mark freely ran his hands over his cream-coloured skin, indulging in its warmth. Losing his breath at the gliding hands of Mark, Ethan pulled back to watch the exploration. As he glanced down, Mark's thumbs drifted quickly over his nipples, making him gasp quietly. 

  "Sensitive?" 

  Mark was simply asking, but beneath it was deviously hidden implications. A smirk glinted in the dark room. 

  "What makes you—ah!" Ethan got caught off guard by his moan as Mark twisted them lightly. 

  "Hot," Mark commented, but there was a teasing aspect that Ethan recalled from their personas on their Youtube channel.

  "Fuck...you..." Ethan said breathlessly, hips canting forward as Mark continued to attack his weak spot driving him crazy.

  Lust boiled in his blood, and a frenzy of whines would fall from his mouth if Ethan didn't stop this evil tactic. Ethan grasped Mark's wrists, and held them above his head, heat in his gaze.

  "I'm...severely...underdressed compared to you," he commented, tone hinting at more than an observation. 

  He watched as Mark licked over his lips, a soft smirk settling onto his face. Ethan taking charge was hotter than he'd ever expected, but that was to discuss another time. Ethan was speaking against Mark's mouth, he was that close, and it was loudening the rush of blood in Mark's veins.

  "And I've been wanting to tear that suit off of you all night," Ethan simpered, eyes flashing downwards with a sultry smirk.

  He released Mark's wrists and grabbed him by his jacket to lead him to the couch. Mark swallowed heavily, obsessed with that new desire crowding Ethan's golden sheen obsidian eyes. The tone and pace of this particular interaction were frantic, which Mark didn't have a problem with. Ethan went to work quickly tearing off Mark's jacket first and then dextrously managing the buttons. The level of focus on Ethan's face was foreign to Mark, seeing as the kid could barely formulate a sentence since his brain ran so fast. When it came to nudity, Ethan was some pro, and Mark was shirtless in less than a minute. What was rewarding was the ardent gaze Ethan appreciated Mark's chest with. His palms were soft, unlike Mark's calloused ones, and he swept them delicately across his abs. 

  "Not looking for sweet," Mark growled, turning restless as he shoved Ethan onto the couch.

  Ethan's eyes widened, but the growing grin on his face told Mark he didn't mind the brutish behaviour, "Alright, cave-man, Mark,"

  Mark rolled his eyes, the nature of the room lightening with the teasing but staying heated as Ethan reached for Mark's pants and popped the button.

  "I know we're joking around, but if Melon Man comes out, I swear I'm out of here," Mark declared, raising his eyebrows in seriousness.

  Ethan scoffed, but his lips quirked, "I make no promises,"

  He unzipped them slowly, but once he caught sight of a sliver of Mark's skin below his hips, he lost his composure abruptly and removed them in seconds. Ethan's eyes ran all over Mark's muscular thighs, moving his hands up and down them, but his stare soon got stuck on Mark's bulge. He bit his lip dirtily, eyes gazing up at Mark with wicked innocence. He tucked his fingers into Mark's waistband and swallowed stiffly.

  "Can I?" 

  His tone was hoarse with desire and flooded Mark with prickles of heat. He nodded assuredly, lost in his fantasies of this moment. It was happening, and Mark was numb with want. Swiftly, Ethan pulled them down, exposing Mark to the cold air. Mark looked away, unprepared to watch as Ethan saw him for the first time, his pride was a hard thing to shake, but he so badly didn't want to mess this up. 

 "Fuck," Ethan breathed out, tone full of lust.

  Mark felt a fluttering pressure on his hipbone, forcing his gaze down to see Ethan kissing him gently. He moved to the other side and kissed the other hipbone, staring up at Mark with a clear purpose. Mark smiled softly, his heart swelling with affection and belonging, and then Mark caught sight of Ethan's tenting pants, and a switch flicked. He eyed them and raised his eyebrows provocatively at Ethan, whose eyebrows furrowed until he clued into Mark's request.

  "You know you can use your words, right?" Ethan inquired, moving his attention to getting his pants off.

  "Alright," A goofy grin formed on his face, "I want to see your dingus Wingus," 

  Ethan scoffed loudly and stopped his actions, "If that's your dirty talk, I'm not sure I can go through with this,"

  Mark raised his eyebrow, a plan formulating, "Not good enough for you? What about..."

  Ethan stripped out of his pants, and before he could shed his boxers, Mark was slipping his fingers into the waistband.

  "I want you to pull your cock out for me" Mark let his eyes go wide with raw innocence, "Please?"

  Ethan gulped, obviously not expecting the seriousness of Mark's words. A sting of arousal hit him as he clenched his nails into the sofa.

  Mark moved forward into Ethan's space and gave him a playful smile, "Better?"

  "Mu—" Ethan cleared his dry throat, "Much better,"

  Mark's ego inflated seeing the effect he had on Ethan. He finally began to pull down the offending garment as Ethan lifted his hips to help. Mark's eyes flickered down, and the air dissipated from his chest. Ethan may not be as heavy-built as Mark, but he had his strengths. His dick was long and thick and as veiny as his arms were. Mark bit his lip, the urge to get his mouth around it overwhelming. But not this time. This was all new, and Mark was equally nervous to jump in as Ethan was. 

  "Lay down," Mark requested.

  Ethan nodded, two spots of pink on his cheekbones. As soon as he was horizontal, Mark got on top of him and let their chests align. Ethan exhaled slowly, watching Mark's face come closer to his with his arms braced on either side of his head. 

  "I want to do so many things to you," Mark whispered, more intimate than it was dirty.

  Ethan's breath caught in his throat as his lips fell open.

  "But right now," he let his body dip down, which meant Ethan could feel Mark's throbbing arousal on his, "I just want to make you feel good,"

  Ethan smiled sweetly, grasping Mark's face as pleasure surged through him, "You make me feel good by just being here,"

  Mark's heart quivered, feeling full...complete. Mark bit down any stupid comments he would ultimately make in this vulnerable moment. 

  "Don't make me hurt you," Mark said intensely.

  Ethan huffed out a chuckle and let one hand fall to Mark's bicep, "I knew you'd say that,"

  Mark moved his body steadily against Ethan's, pulsing members brushing against each other. Ethan let out a choked-off moan as Mark spat into his hand and reached down to grab them together. The sensation of Mark against him was making his head fuzzy, and the air in the room declined. The slip of their precome, alongside the slick spit on Mark's hand, helped Ethan rock his hips upwards.

  "Fuck, that's good," he exclaimed, his muscles tensing.

  Mark let his head fall and bit into Ethan's shoulder to stop his moans from slipping out as he found constant pressure and speed. Ethan's hips rutted into his fist, which only made Mark thrust faster, his dick twitching every time he slid his thumb over the heads of their dicks. Ethan whined fervently and dug his fingernails into Mark's skin.

  "Fuck harder," Ethan pleaded, eyes clenching shut as pleasure engulfed him. 

  Mark amended by tightening his grip, feeling waves of arousal surround him like a magnetic field was sucking him in. Ethan's body strained towards Mark's touch, shivering every time the sensitive underhead was brushed. He felt his orgasm teetering on the edge as he chased the sensations Mark was causing. His calloused hand was rough against his skin, which made it hard to forget who it belonged to. Mark's face scrunched in complete bliss, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, sending shockwave images into Ethan's head. That same mouth going down on him, licking the precome out of his slit. Ethan groaned squeakily as he chased the fantasy of him pulling Mark's hair, fucking his mouth, and Mark liking it. Wanting more.

  "Mark, I—I'm—" Ethan couldn't get the last word out before he was coming between them with loud moans filling his apartment.

  Mark watched Ethan fall apart, pleasure billowing through him at the arousing sight. His moans echoed in his ear, taunting his desires. Once Ethan finished, Mark let go of him and focused on bringing himself over the edge. Ethan dragged his nails down Mark's chest, which forced a whimpering moan from his throat.

  "You want to cum so bad, don't you?" Ethan lowered his voice, knowing Mark liked it rough and breathy.

  Mark nodded, driving his hips into his fist desperately. Ethan's nails were setting fire to his already roasting nerves and were overstimulating in the best way possible.

  "I want to see you cum for me," Ethan demanded, a rugged tone attached to his voice.

  Mark moaned lustily as he felt the pressure building in his abdomen. His breathing was ragged and faltering as Ethan's words swept him up.

  "Do it, Mark," Ethan encouraged gently yet with fervour, "I want you to cum on my chest,"

  That was the last trigger for Mark. His come exploded all over Ethan's pale skin as Mark whined whorishly in the back of his throat. The intensity of it made his vision blurry for a moment as he rode through the aftershocks. Ethan grabbed a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table and wiped away the mess, which, once discarded, immediately prompted Mark to collapse onto his chest. Relaxation had fallen on him, and his eyes drooped with exhaustion, knowing it must be nearing midnight

  "Old man," Ethan teased, combing through his hair fondly.

  "I'm not into ageplay," Mark murmured tiredly, a yawn following the sentence.

  "Ew," Ethan commented but left it at that.

  A couple of seconds of silence passed, and Mark slipped into a sated state.

  "Hey, Mark?"

  Mark hummed without answering, his thoughts buzzing in his head.

  "Will you be my boyfriend?"

  Mark's eyes popped open, regaining clarity in seconds. He stared at Ethan, whose expression was hopeful.

  Mark smiled warmly and kissed Ethan's cheek, "Absolutely,"

  He laid his head back down and listened to the beating of Ethan's heart as Ethan peacefully stroked his hair until they both fell asleep.