twenty-first century hits

Finally, Cameron clears his throat. Eduardo doesn’t remove his gaze and Tyler doesn’t look any less insistent, but at least Mark lifts his head up. “We should order,” Cameron states, diplomatically.

To his relief, Mark nods. At that moment a waitress comes by like she’d been waiting for them—and in all honesty, Cameron can’t blame her (though it probably has something less to do with the time and more to do with that this is the entire Facebook crew at one table)—and says, “What can I get for you?”

Mark lifts his menu up to her. “Tuna salad sandwich,” he says, rehearsed.

Cameron can’t help himself from smiling.

Eduardo huffs and finally pulls his gaze away from Mark. “Give me a minute,” he says to the waitress, who nods.

Tyler leans over, farther than his shoulder, so he can talk to his ear. “Get the reuben, babe, it’s good.”

“Hm.” Eduardo’s gaze drifts over the menu. “How about the broccoli soup, too? How’s that?”

“I mean, I’ve never tried it, so you’re on your own there.” Tyler’s pulled back, smirking.

Eduardo returns the expression, prodding Tyler’s side with his elbow. “You’re totally trying it with me,” he says, before ordering both the soup and the sandwich for himself.

Cameron and Tyler don’t need to give their orders—being a member of the Porcellian has its benefits like that—and then they’re left alone again.

In companionable, or otherwise, silence.

“So,” Mark says, before glancing between Cameron and Tyler. “Do you guys want to know how the site is coming along?”

Cameron is drinking his water, so he chokes and can’t respond in time. Meanwhile, as Mark absently rubs a soothing hand over his back, Tyler splutters, “No—of course not, we’re on a date, Mark. This is no time to be talking about Facebook.”

Mark blinks at him. “All our lives practically revolve around Facebook right now, I’m pretty sure any time is time to be talking about it.”

And then, before Cameron can formulate a response to steer the conversation elsewhere, he adds, “Anyway, we’re not on a date. You’re on a date with Wardo,” and he looks pointedly across the table, “and I’m on a date with Cameron.”

“And your ability to point out the obvious never ceases to amaze me,” Cameron says, shooting him a look.

Mark looks at him this time. His eyebrows are furrowed, which is a good sign: he realizes he’s slightly off track. But Cameron is kind of weak to Mark when he looks anything short of confident (and, okay, he’s also weak to Mark looking confident, he’s just generally weak to Mark) so he sighs and tangles their fingers under the table.

Mark’s lips quirk into a smile. It’s hidden in the corner of his mouth, like maybe not even Eduardo nor Tyler can see it. But it’s there.

“The weather’s nice today,” Eduardo comments.

This time it’s his side being elbowed. He laughs and says, “Hey,” and Tyler pokes him again. Eduardo headbutts his shoulder from the side and Tyler cuffs him lightly, like he might send Eduardo into a headlock. But all he does is run his finger down Eduardo’s neck and Eduardo lets out this happy noise.

Cameron glances at Mark, to see Mark has just turned to look at him.

“Public displays of affection are gross,” he states plainly.

Cameron wants to sigh.

Tyler beats him to it, though not quite with a sigh. “Weren’t you just holding hands with my brother?” he asks, because Cameron knows that he knows he’s predictable.

Mark shrugs, finally training his gaze on Tyler. “Not in public,” he says, and lifts up their still joined fingers just an inch from under the table. “We have at least a modicum of grace.”

Eduardo snorts.

Mark says, “What.”

“You,” says Eduardo, rolling his eyes. “Caring about grace.”

Mark bristles. Sometimes Cameron wonders why he and Mark like each other, of all people, but Mark cares about things he doesn’t do—things like grace. Cameron is actually kind of good at getting Mark to do those things, nudging him from the back when Mark won’t move when he’s in someone’s way, touching Mark’s elbow to remind him to thank the cashier in the lunch line. It had started out with talking, at first, back before they became—all this, but now Mark doesn’t really need cues anymore to do what’s socially acceptable.

You kind of need to know what’s socially acceptable in order to run a social networking website, after all.

Anyway, Tyler just adds fuel to the fire when he says, “Yeah, Cam, don’t you want to teach him how to be a gentleman of Harvard?” and both he and Eduardo snigger.

Cameron is at a loss for what to do. Mark’s ears have turned pink and says, “What’s wrong with that?” and Eduardo nearly buckles down over his empty plate.

A while ago, Cameron thought Mark might’ve had something for Eduardo, though he had never been entirely sure. Seeing Eduardo laugh openly at Mark across the table is making Cameron feel more secure, though Mark’s ears are getting pinker. (And, anyway, when he had mentioned it to Mark, Mark had rolled his eyes and said, “Wardo? I mean, he’s not bad looking, but—Wardo?” and then proceeded to kiss all the worries and daylights out of Cameron.

They’d joked, later, about Tyler maybe saying Eddie or Wardo in bed, even though Cameron doesn’t exactly enjoy thinking about either of them in sexual situations. But having Mark snort into his beer had been enough.)

“I can’t believe,” Tyler says, through his gasps, “that there’s someone on this godforsaken planet who takes my brother’s gentlemen of Harvard thing seriously, and it’s—” he gestures to Mark, who has settled back into the booth with his arms crossed over his chest “—Zuckerberg.”

“Don’t call me that,” Mark says shortly.

He’s let go of Cameron’s hand. Cameron reaches over to run a hand over his waist.

“Really, Ty, that’s enough,” he says sternly.

Tyler holds up a hand, clutching at his face. Eduardo is hiding giggles into his palm; evidently Tyler had told him about Cameron’s “gentleman of Harvard thing” too. Even though it’s not a thing, it’s a very important social status. Of course neither of them understand.

“Give me a second bro,” he says.

“I will give you nothing.” Cameron, because he doesn’t have any other choice, reaches into his drink and pulls out an ice cube. He throws it at his brother.

“What—hey, that’s cold!”

“It’s ice,” says Mark. “Of course it’s cold.”

Tyler takes a second to shoot a glare in Mark’s direction, before chucking another ice cube across the table at Cameron. Cameron squawks and goes for another, but Tyler says, “Eduardo, cover me!” and ducks down as the ice cube hits the back of the booth.

Tyler brings his head up, barely reacting when Cameron gets a third, getting the side of his head. “You didn’t cover me,” he says petulantly to Eduardo.

Eduardo sends him a side smile. “Maybe you deserved it,” he says.

Tyler huffs and says, “Let’s see who deserves what,” and starts for his glass of water—

All three of them are surprised when an ice cube hits Eduardo’s cheek.

Cameron swivels around to Mark. Mark still has his arms folded across his chest, but there’s something pleased about the line of his mouth. Cameron’s eyes trace down to Mark’s fingertips, which are rubbing up against each other. He brings his palm underneath them. They’re wet and cold.

Eduardo doesn’t buy Mark’s facade either, just exclaims, “Mark!” as Tyler looks between them, not sure whether to be offended or laugh.

Mark shrugs. “You deserved it, too,” he says to Eduardo.

Eduardo pouts, and Tyler seems to have made a decision. Cameron watches with astonishment as Tyler just laughs at him, and then he’s digging up ice cubes from his own water, saying, “Yeah, Eduardo, see how much you deserve it,” and Eduardo is laughing, half-heartedly batting Tyler away from his three piece suit as Tyler teases them against his neck, before dropping the ice cubes to the floor and kissing him. Eduardo kisses back, enthusiastically, and kicks the ice under the table. Cameron hears one skid against someone’s shoe.

Mark kicks the ice cube back to Eduardo’s feet. He turns to Cameron and rolls his eyes.

“They are so gross,” he says, without a lot of heat.

Cameron cups his hand around Mark’s, smiling as Mark returns the favor on top of their legs. “They are,” he agrees.

*

Afterward, Cameron and Tyler have said goodbye, retreating to their suite in the Porcellian as Mark and Eduardo head back to Kirkland. Cameron remembers the offensive way Mark had laughed when Eduardo kept insisting they put advertisements on Facebook, and couldn’t bring himself to reprimand him because Mark was right and he also had a wonderful laugh. Tyler was slightly more defensive, trying to argue Eduardo’s point, before Cameron had cut in and said that wasn’t what Facebook was about.

The look Mark had given him was nothing short of grateful.

They understand each other, is the thing. Back when he and his brother had brought up the idea of Harvard Connection with Mark, Mark had said yes before turning their back on them. Tyler insisted that they try to physically detain him, but Cameron had refused, and bothered Mark enough both over text and in person until Mark relented and said he was working on something else with someone else.

Cameron had offered his ears, let Mark brag about Facebook, and then agreed that it was a better idea than Harvard Connection. It had only been a matter of time before Eduardo (Mark’s apparent partner) and Tyler (disgruntled, but stubborn at Cameron’s side) got roped in, and met as well.

Cameron understands Mark, and Facebook. Better than Eduardo, he might even admit, though the Mark part remains to be seen. He knew Mark would say yes if he proposed a double date, because Mark trusts him almost as much as he does to the point of neuroticism.

He is not surprised the next day when he picks Mark up from his systems class, Mark looks up at him and states, “That went well.”

“The date?” Cameron nods. “Yeah, it did.”

Mark coughs a little. “I wasn’t sure what to think of your brother,” he says. When Cameron casts him a questioning look, he adds, “Because he’s dating Eduardo. His taste.”

“Oh.” Cameron lets out a crow of laughter. “What about me, then? What does that say about your taste?”

“You’re different,” Mark says defensively.

Cameron gets a little happy at that, and he squeezes Mark’s upper arm, because that’s the closest he can get to any sort of relative public display of affection. “Thanks,” he says, doing his best not to make it sound sarcastic.

Mark rolls his eyes. But he squeezes Cameron’s hand quickly before they head into art history together.

Later, Cameron walks into the lounge of the Porcellian, to see Tyler slouched on the sofa, phone in his hands. Cameron drops his bag on an armchair and asks, “Who’re you texting?” He heads to the bar to get a snack.

Tyler makes an impatient noise. “Eduardo,” he says. And then, after a minute, “He thinks yesterday’s date went good.”

“Didn’t it?” Cameron lifts his head up, offering a beer to Tyler. Tyler makes a grabby hand motion and Cameron tosses it to him.

Tyler barely catches the bottle by its neck. “Zuckerberg and I were arguing the whole time,” he says, looking a little put out. “He thinks there’s no redeemable quality to hair gel. Hair gel, Cam.”

“There is no redeemable quality to it,” Cameron points out.

Tyler huffs and returns to his texting.

“Besides,” Cameron says, after taking a swig of his drink. “Mark likes you. He thought it went well, too.”

Tyler looks up at that. “He likes me? What, is that what you do with him all day, fight?” He rolls his eyes. “That little prick is such a—no offense, Cam—”

“None taken,” Cameron says honestly. He’s pretty sure Mark would take it as a compliment if he heard. “And no, but that’s what he likes about you, you know. That you’re easy to rile up.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Gee, what a compliment.”

Cameron pauses for a minute. He likes crew because he likes team sports, the stress on his muscle, the feeling of being good at other people and winning—that’s partially why Mark likes coding. The being at better than other people, at least. Tyler’s always been more of a physical guy, wanting to try different sports, team or not, even—

“Hey,” he says, across the room. “Did you know that Mark fences?”

*

And that’s how he finds himself standing next to Eduardo, watching Mark and Tyler engaging in a particularly violent fence-off.

“I didn’t know you could be that aggressive when you’re not touching someone,” Eduardo states, arms crossed.

Cameron shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.” Their foils are clacking loudly in the gym. Other people have turned to watch their match. Cameron hasn’t really seen Mark fence before, because usually he’s working his brain out of his ears on Facebook. This is good for him, probably.

Eduardo hums next to him. “I knew Mark was good, but—” When Cameron steals a glance, Eduardo’s eyes are glazed, looking mesmerized. “Tyler is really good.”

“If you’re getting turned on by this,” says Cameron, because he’s been dragged to too many of Tyler’s fencing practices in the past to really care, “please don’t tell me.”

Eduardo just chuckles and watches some more. “I was afraid, you know,” he confesses, through the swords’ clanging. “During the date, I thought Mark wouldn’t have liked Tyler. But—”

“Mark’s weird like that,” Cameron says. “He could probably like everyone if he positioned them in the right light or the right angle for him.”

Eduardo makes a surprised noise his throat. “You’re right,” he says, and laughs. “You’re right, I didn’t even think about that before.”

Cameron shrugs. He and Eduardo exchange grins.

The battle comes to a stop when Tyler prods Mark’s suit. The referee ends the match but it doesn’t matter, because they’re both already tearing off their masks. Tyler raises his arms in the air and hoots victoriously, as Eduardo runs over to kiss and congratulate him. Cameron has his arms crossed and rolls his eyes, walking over to Mark.

Mark is sweaty and red-faced and his curly hair is everywhere. Cameron kind of gets Eduardo earlier, because he looks fantastic. Cameron can’t help dropping a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Mark says, “Cameron,” but he looks kind of pleased with it when Cameron pulls back.

Tyler comes up to them then, saying, “One-zero, Zuckerberg, suck it!” Eduardo laughs, glancing at Cameron kind of warningly, beginning to tug Tyler away.

But Mark just marches up to him and grins, eyes bright. He likes a challenge and it’s nothing like the way he looks at Cameron, sometimes, knobby and splayed beneath Cameron’s crew-cut body, but—it’s good, Cameron thinks. He flashes a thumbs up at Eduardo.

“I want a rematch,” Mark declares.

Tyler lets out a whoop of delight. Eduardo smacks his ass and ducks away from Tyler’s responding hand. Cameron can’t wait to kiss Mark redder and sweatier after all this is over. He joins Eduardo back on the sidelines, the sound of aluminum clacking filling their ears, and they watch, side by side.