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Title: Every Superhero Needs A Theme Song
Author: sanann
Genre: crossover, au, violence, slash, drama
Pairing: Mark/Eduardo, Bond/Q
Rating: R
Word count: ~9800
Beta: eisenfieldloveforever
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: Killers AU. Mark, Q and Bond are hired killers who work together on successfully getting rid of people until they come across a new mark - Eduardo Saverin.
A/N: Lyrics in the beginning of the story belong to Kaney West' "Power".


I'm living in that 21st century doing something mean to it
Do it better than anybody you ever seen do it
Screams from the haters, got a nice ring to it
I guess every superhero need his theme music

No one man should have all that power
The clocks ticking I just count the hours
Stop tripping I'm tripping off the powder
Till then, fuck that the world's ours



"There's something you don't get", the man's tone is business-like, used to negotiate with all kinds of clients, "I will double the price".

Ropes hold him tight and he shakes his head like a bobble head doll.

"Not interested", Mark states, holding his gaze for a moment until the man's eyes widen.  Mark turns and walks away. The air outside a hanger is chilly and Mark's breath is a white smoke in the dark.

There's a sound of a gunshot and Bond's footsteps follow Mark outside.

They don't talk as Bond takes the phone out of his pocket with a left hand to speed dial the number. His right hand caresses the gun.

"Get us out of here, Q", Bond delivers curtly and listens to Q's instructions.



Q bitches at Bond when they appear, mouth tight and not pleased. They almost lost the target.

Almost’ is the word to drive Q mad out of his skin but Bond is always on receiving end of it, standing there with his arms crossed, while Mark gets just a frown and disappears inside his room leaving two other men to argue.



Mark knew Q first. Since Harvard.

Q was another guy sitting by himself in all the classes they shared, typing on his laptop and not raising his head even answering correctly to the professor’s questions.

He was British, had a weird nickname that he proclaimed the only name he lives and dies with (when asked for the first time, remainder of time – he didn’t feel a need to elaborate), and in Mark's eyes he had every right to feel superior because his mind was brilliant.

They were both arrogant, despised people and desperate to fit in. They clicked.

One day, they got so bored they decided to get outside uni's dull walls into the 'real world'. It required hacking and being smart, and not getting caught. And obviously, leaving uni for bigger and better things.

Bond appeared later when money got tight, and "bad guys" got interested in them. Even Q with his shiny eyes and big ego wasn't flattered.

Bond was a guy Q picked at the bar for fucking (later Q said he just missed home) but they didn't get there. One of the hired assassins wanted to get to Q first and Bond didn't like it. The guy was efficiently liquidated.

Next morning, Bond was drinking tea in their kitchen, groggy from sleeping on the sofa.

Bond stayed and offered to return 'the favor' to the bad guys.

Mark's eyes were stony cold when he said 'yes'. The first job was just ‘making a point’.

Others? Were not.

Q and Mark were good at hacking and finding people whose deaths cost filling their accounts with six zeroes. Bond and Mark weren't against the dirty work, they welcomed it. And Q was the one to get them out of trouble.

It wasn't a dream job but it was something that afforded fulfilling their dreams.



Mark stumbles into the kitchen for coffee, eyes blurry and red, to find Q reading the book and Bond staring out of the window and smoking.

Q puts the book down on the table and finishes the thought he started privately in his head, supporting his words with his whole body leaning slightly towards them. "It is clear, you see. We're a modern definition of avenging angels, clearing earth from people who don't deserve to live".

Mark is well aware that Q is the guy with a big imagination and is the one to pick the targets. Therefore, he doesn't comment, eyes seeking a coffee machine.

Bond laughs, deliberately flicking ash on the floor and mutters "rubbish", receiving a pissed look from Q.

It starts the contest of matching glares until Mark pushes the start button on the coffee machine, breaking the silence.

Q averts his gaze first and picks up his book.

Bond inhales through gritted teeth, snapping "be back tomorrow" and leaving. He keeps his promise.

Mark doesn't say a thing. But he wishes they fucked that first time.

Q spends the night on finding the next mark.

Bond comes back in the morning and quietly disappears into the bathroom, Q doesn't talk to him for the rest of the day.



"I think I've found him", Q's smile is infectious, and Mark answers with a slight quirk of his mouth.

"Details, Q", he rushes him, barely keeping himself from grabbing the laptop Q is holding.

"Daddy's boy is not as invisible as he believes", Q turns the screen and points into the red blinking spot on the google map.

"I think we'd love Boston".



Between them they've got two laptops, empty Chinese take out boxes, beers and the sounds of Q typing.

They sit on the carpet with James smoking and sometimes handing a cigarette for Q to take a drag or two. Mark stopped trying to understand their relationship a long time ago.

"We can always torture him to retreat data on his father", Bond comments while Q is laying out different options on contacting their mark.

"Or", Q levels him with a look and gracefully takes his hand to make a long drag, "we can try to get closer and see if he loves us enough to share some information seeing as our boy plays for both teams. After all, he stopped doing business with his father, so he's currently not involved in drug trafficking."

"We can kill him after if he's not being a good boy", Mark offers generously and finishes his beer with a big gulp.

"Let's make love first then", Q finalizes, fingers flying over the keyboard.

That is usually Bond's job, seducing the mark, so he looks at Q, agreeably shrugging in answer, never even trying to say 'no' to Q.
It settles it.

James stretches out his shoulders, strong lines of his body tightening under the shirt, and Q's typing rhythm falters for a second.

Mark's attention is at their target's photo on the laptop – a young man in a dark suit. Suddenly Mark gets painfully aware of his clothes, his hand reaching to rub on the collarbone over his washed out t-shirt. There’s a churning feeling in his gut commanding him to drop the case.

This guy with a big brown eyes and messy hair is clearly trouble, Mark knows. But he was never the one to back away from the challenge.

"I'll take it", he's not even surprised when he hears the words in his own steady voice.

Q gives him a look which Mark translates as 'thanks', and Mark looks back with a blank stare trying to transfer his own thoughts 'it's not about you'.



Between three of them Mark is the only guy who doesn't have an excuse for deaths on his hands. Q does it for the greater good, Bond does it for Q, and Mark does it just because he can.



His name is Eduardo, which sounds alien in Mark's mouth when he says it out loud. Too many syllables. Mark doesn't trust people who have too many syllables in their names.

Eduardo avoids going to crowded places, clearly flying under the radar.

But people find comfort in routines, and that's what makes them an easy prey.

Eduardo's everyday spot is the small coffee shop one block down from his apartment. It is a quiet place where people buy coffee to go, leaving two small tables in front of the windows clean and unoccupied.



First time, there's only one guy between them in the line and Mark doesn't look Eduardo's way but he lets him observe Mark for a few seconds. Standard precautions from Eduardo, Mark thinks.



Next time, when Mark leaves the coffee shop, he almost hits Eduardo with the door.

"Sorry", he says shortly, clutching coffee close to his chest.

"It happens", answers Eduardo, and gives him a polite smile, holding the door open.

"Why are you still not sucking his cock?" Bond genuinely wonders in Mark's ear.

"Shut up!" Q hisses and the line is blissfully silent again.

"Real gentlemen, aren't you?" Mark points to the door, failing to tone down his rudeness, and receives a smirk in answer. It is alarmingly unnerving.

"Someone has to be", there's that smirk again.

"Next time I will let you buy me coffee then". He brushes Eduardo's side when he leaves and his skin tingles.



Two days after, Mark finds Eduardo in the coffee shop occupying a small table with two cups of coffee in his hands.

Mark raises his eyebrows when Eduardo hands him one. Both paper cups have ‘Eduardo’ written upon them.

Mark snaps his head at the barista behind the counter and bites his tongue from making Starbucks references.

"You know you've got a really stupid name", Mark observes instead, taking a sip, and closing his eyes for a moment in bliss.

"That kind revelation of yours along with an undoubtedly intelligent meaning of your name can be discussed over the dinner you're inviting me to. You can pick me up at seven in front of this shop. Don't leave your sweet manners at home this time". Mark will never be the one to get the master degree in social skills but he's pretty sure it is an uncommon practice in a dating invitation.

Eduard swiftly stands and stands alarmingly close to Mark which makes the latter’s eyes widen. Suddenly Mark gets acutely aware of his body being close to Eduardo’s as if the temperature rises and each limb of their bodies gets connected through the heat.

Eduardo pushes his body just an inch closer and Mark’s grip tightens on the cup, fighting against the slight tremors. The next moment, Saverin takes a step backwards and quickly leaves, not looking back.



"How the hell did Mark got so lucky?" Bond is invading Q's personal place, leaning against the kitchen table, right next to Q's laptop he types on, daring their legs to brush.

Q's attempt to put a space between them – which makes his chair squeak miserably at every try – distances him from his laptop and he huffs.

"You think Eduardo is having some suspicions?" He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, which results in his knees getting pressed to Bond's, leaving him even more frustrated.

"There is a chance. He can be playing his own games and trying to outsmart us. You can never be too trusting." Bond watches his every reaction and Q arranges his face into a neutral expression.

"And there is a chance he just liked the guy he met", Q's face is emotionless but there's a challenge in his voice.

Bond bends down, bringing their eyes at the same level, "Why? You empathize?"

Q is deliberately silent for a moment, looking back, "Don't read anything into it. Handling disappointment is not your strong suit. I'm not the one who should be empathizing with the guy with possible trust issues."

James swallows and Q doesn't blink when his wrist gets caught in James' tight grip.

"You sure know how to keep a guy at bay. You're getting better at this."

Bond pulls back, moving away. Q bends over his laptop and it takes a moment before he starts typing.



That night, in silence of Bond's room, Q finds the bed and slips under the covers next to the warm body. He curls in to Bond and stays quiet.

"Sometimes I wish I'd just let that guy kill you that first night", Bond shares almost wistfully. "Maybe it'd do me more good."

"Maybe", Q agrees.

They keep their eyes open, eyes fixed on the ceiling until sleep gets to them.



James Bond kills people.

But if you think he's one of the guys who tortured animals in childhood – keep searching for another profile, arse.

He lost his parents when he was four and traveling from one foster home to another was as entertaining as you might think. James was mastering his skills in sneaking out and living on the streets since he became eight and it was the only life he knew after. He learned to protect himself and get money from people who weren't smart enough to keep them safe.

He knew his way around people.

Sometimes, he used his charm to peel women/men from their clothes and their money. Sometimes, he used his strength to protect one bad guy from another. And sometimes, protection meant killing.

He met Q a few months after his face became inconveniently recognizable in Britain and he moved to more welcoming US.

The first time they met Q stared at him and noticed, "You don't seem like a good person, Mr. Bond."

Bond didn't think it was a good line after, 'I invite you for a shag because I ran out of coffee'.

"Is it bothering you?" Bond raised his eyebrows.

"No. Doesn’t mean you can't be trusted."



After Bond killed the assassin, Q touched his bloody knuckles gently and murmured, "Well, now you just proved me right".

"That I'm not a good person or that I can be trusted?"

"Both," Q huffed indignantly and offered him a couch for the night.



Bond wanted to leave the morning after but Q shoved at him 10 bucks and yelled to not come back without coffee.



Mark doesn't bother with 'nice clothing' despite Bond insisting on 'at least a jacket'. It is warm outside and he picks dark blue jeans and fitted sky blue t-shirt.

He smirks at the camera for Q who tells him that he has a killer looks (a small smile indicating the double meaning) and advises to "go and fuck that boy until he spills out all his secrets".

Q makes a reservation at a nice restaurant, but not nice enough to demand a formal suit from Mark.



Eduardo is there when Mark approaches the coffee shop. He is wearing a two-piece dark blue suit with a blue tie, which is even less casual than ironed pants and shirt he always puts on, and his face breaks into a wide smile when he sees Mark.

"I like the color of your clothes," he comments, openly checking Mark out.

"I would never guess," Mark replies, not willing to hide his sarcasm.

"They would look good on me," he lowers his voice and there's a suggestion in it, making Mark hot because all those images start playing in his head. His clothes against Eduardo's skin, Mark against Eduardo's skin and tearing all these clothes off, Eduardo's tanned skin under Mark's pale hands.

It should be the other way around, with Mark being in control and making Eduardo shiver with dirty suggestions, but Mark doesn't mind, he knows what he wants and this desire is clearly mutual, and as long as Eduardo doesn't touch him there is no threat for Eduardo to find himself bent over the nearest surface with his nice suit all crumpled up and torn.

There's this electrifying feeling between them making Mark short of breath. It is uncommon, which is more dangerous than a gun to Mark's head.

Mark knows how this night ends and there’s more to it than seducing the target. But giving them space and time is not welcomed by him, it’s just postponing this shitstorm he'll find himself in after this.

"You should tell me your name," Eduardo suggests, his hand unconsciously squeezing the other man’s shoulder, which ends with him numbly observing his own action, eyes getting wide, realization of the futile effort to stop this dawning on him.

"Mark."

He watches his name being formed with the pink lips, one syllable taking Eduardo a longer time than it usually is with other people, and Mark thinks, "Wardo".



They go to the nice restaurant and they talk, discussing common things, tiptoeing around personal lives, and Mark's fingers grip a linen napkin in his hand under the table until his knuckles turn white because Eduardo talks about math he admires using the same words Mark uses when talking about code.

When Eduardo says aloud the thought Mark only starts forming in his head, he looks across the table, blue eyes piercing, and he thinks he shouldn’t have taken this case.



"I'll walk you home," Mark states, when they leave the restaurant, and Eduardo gives him an intimate smile in answer.

They don't talk on the way, and Mark for the life of him can't find a will to speak. He is provided with silence – time to contemplate and plan his next actions, but his head is in some kind of haze and Wardo is too close.



They stand in front of Eduardo's door and Mark has no intention of going anywhere but inside the apartment.

"Mark," starts Eduardo, lifting his hand to brush the neckline of Mark's t-shirt, touching the skin.

"Open the door", Mark snaps, his hand fisting in the other man's shirt. He's one moment away from slamming Eduardo against the door and fucking him in the hallway.

The keys jingle in Eduardo's hand and after, they're forgotten on the floor of the apartment because Mark shoves Eduardo inside and shuts the door behind them with one kick while Eduardo bites his neck.



Mark kisses Eduardo’s smiling mouth while his hands roam over his body and try to strip him of the clothes.

Eduardo gasps into Mark's mouth when he palms him through the trousers.

"Bedroom! Bedroom or I'll fuck you on the floor," Mark promises and yanks open Eduardo's belt before working on his fly.

Eduardo is shoving him forward and Mark manages to pull off his own shirt and free Eduardo from his jacket and shirt before his legs hit the bed.

Between licking back into Eduardo's mouth and him pinching lightly Mark's nipples they get rid of their pants, and Mark tugs Eduardo onto the bed and tells him to lay still until he gets the lube and condoms from his pants.



Wardo is a fucking mess when Mark works him open with his fingers, and Mark is not better. His skin feels tight and thin, and it’s not good, too personal, too dangerous. But he can only think about getting closer to Eduardo before something inside him breaks.

Everything feels hot and heavy, air filled with anticipation and sex, and the room is spinning around them, making everything a blur. Eduardo on white sheets is the only thing Mark can concentrate on.

"Fuck you, Mark," Eduardo spits the words, trembling under his hands, not getting enough with Mark pinning down his hips and giving him only his fingers. Mark can't answer, his throat feels painfully dry, words demanding too much strength from him while he's barely holding it together.

He finally slides into Eduardo, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before opening to see the man under him – slight resistance making him pause before he moves forward – right after Eduardo's nails grip into his shoulders and he threatens in a raspy voice, "Gonna kill... if you won't... move."

Eduardo gasps under Mark's mouth, and they're not kissing, not really. Mark just covers Wardo's mouth while he fucks into him.

Mark watches Eduardo balling his fists in the sheets when Mark deliberately pulls his legs higher, hooking over his shoulders and kissing Wardo’s bent knee before moving forward.

He seems to hit the right spot when Eduardo's whole body shudders and he makes a keening sound, spine arching.

Everything gets even more tense and intimate.

There are tears in Eduardo's eyes and falling down his cheeks, but he begs for more whispering hotly into Mark's sweaty temple.
Mark's hands tremble under Wardo's knees and he stops for a minute trying to catch his breath, his heart racing in his chest.

Eduardo whispers some words barely broken and bites hard on Mark’s lower lip when he slides out and shoves back in.

Mark doesn't stop, feeling how close he is, relentlessly losing himself in Eduardo’s body before his own body betrays him. He wants Wardo to come first but before he even touches his cock, Eduardo gasps and comes, his fingers pulling at Mark's hair, tightening around his curls.

Mark groans when Eduardo clenches around his flesh, but he holds still for a moment, his fingers brushing Eduardo's wet hair from his forehead before he thrusts into the boneless, sated body.

Eduardo's blurred gaze is fixed on Mark's, not breaking connection, when Wardo's fingers touch Mark's lips, and stick into his mouth to find his tongue, he breaks, coming.

There's a buzzing in Mark’s ears when he opens his eyes, and his whole body screams at him for trying to move.

He slips out of Eduardo, meeting a light reluctance, and receives a dopey smile from him.

He gets rid of a condom with barely controlled hands and falls down next to Wardo.



They wake up early and Mark's brain is not fully awake, eyes registering a light streak from the window playing games on Eduardo's olive skin.

Wardo slowly rides him, their movements slow and lazy. Mark presses soft kisses into Eduardo's warm palm and watches him smile down at him.

They don't talk, and Wardo only swears when he comes.

His body slides down and Mark's cock is swallowed by the heat, Wardo's wonderful pink mouth working on him. It doesn't take long for him to come and after he kisses Wardo and drops open mouthed kisses on Wardo's sweaty shoulder, until they fall back asleep.



When Mark wakes up the next time, it's with Wardo pressing a cold knife to his throat.

Mark never heard Eduardo talking in this cold controlled voice, "Now, why the fuck are you here, Zuckerberg?"



Q insists on Mark keeping the mic on the whole time but Mark determinably says 'no' and tries to make it into a joke, calling him a perv.

After the dinner, despite Q's demands into Mark's ear to not turn the line off, Q loses the connection with Mark saying goodnight and asking Bond to sing Q a lullaby.

James opens his mouth for a retort and Q holds his hand up, a signal to shut up. He is pissed. He doesn't give a damn about the show Mark is planning for his boy, and he's been through enough sex scenes with Bond on another end of the line to know how to make it only about the job.

Mark's head is not in the game, too many unwarranted emotions about the target, and it messes with Q's job, so Mark better turn the mic on right after he shags the guy senseless because otherwise Mark will face the full range of Q's anger.



Q had a good family growing up - his only uncle, who was providing a perfect parenting by leaving Q to his own devices.

His parents died in a car crash when he was too small to learn how to walk, and before he got a chance to know them or love them, so all he’s left with is the image of them that he's supposed to love.

Mark and Bond are the family he chose, his very own family he loves, and that's why Q will never let himself have Bond because you don't screw with your family.

Q's only job is to protect his family and he's damn well good at it, never allowing himself to lose control over things.

But right now Mark is being difficult, providing life with a rare opportunity to make Q fail. Q loathes every second of it.
He takes off his glasses, and starts rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Bond comes closer, wrapping his hands around Q's waist, and puts his chin on the younger's man shoulder until he relaxes.
Okay, he can give Mark time and space for a night. But in the morning he takes matters back into his hands.



When Mark was six and his mother died, he didn't know how to feel and why everyone at her funeral cried. He tried to avoid running into anyone because they hugged him tight and made his clothes wet with their tears, and Mark didn't want his mommy to be upset with him for ruining his Sunday best.

Mark watched his father the whole time, monitoring his emotions and trying to copy them, which meant not shedding the tears.

After everybody left, they sat on the back porch and Mark dangled his legs back and forth.

"Daddy, I want mommy back." Mark wanted it to be clear in case it helped her to return soon.

"Me too," his father said.

"Why is everyone crying?" He frowned up at his father who kept staring off into the distance.

"Because they let her go. And we did not."



When Mark turned 27, he spent his whole birthday in a bed with a woman who made his skin bleed – biting into the flesh with her nails – every time she came.

Her husband walked in on them and Mark smirked up at him and killed him before he shot him first.

He didn't intend to kill the woman. After all, he came for her husband and getting rid of a serial rapist was a bonus for her as well. But she didn't see it this way.

She wanted revenge and her husband's gun didn't tremble in her hand when she pointed it at Mark.

Mark ducked and she missed. Mark didn't, when it was his turn.

Mark knew they had kids, he made sure they've got a certain amount of money for their future, but he moved on and didn't think about it after.



Mark looks at Eduardo and swallows, making a blade shift against his skin.

"No breakfast in bed?" He croaks. He's hungry.

Now he realizes what woke him. The click of his hands being handcuffed to the bedpost.

Eduardo presses the blade harder, eyes not leaving Mark's, and Mark feels as the cold steel bites into his skin, no doubts bringing blood to the surface. "I asked you a question."

He forces his body to relax, observing the situation, mentally checking his body.

His hands are cuffed, but his legs are free, seems like Eduardo didn't have time to finish what he started and now, Mark's body is pinned down by Eduardo sitting on his legs. Very naked Mark under a fully clothed Eduardo. Should be awkward but it's not.

He thinks about Q, how fast he'll send Bond over to Wardo's apartment and how long he's going to scream at Mark after.

There's a disappointment at himself for being easily caught and a nagging feeling of pride for Wardo which he stores in the back of his mind for later observation.

"I would ask you for water, but you're not in a charitable mood."

"You know I could kill you," it's more of a statement than a question.

Mark looks up at him and confirms with a crooked smile, "If you decide that you don't have another choice, of course you could. You would be stupid not to."

Eduardo leans closer and Mark for a second is relieved to be handcuffed because this sudden urge to touch his face is annoying, "You are obviously after my father. But you're still interested in me."

Eduardo pointedly looks down, and of course, Mark is interested. He probably had the best sex of his life, his lover outsmarted him and is dangerous enough to slit his throat. He'd be dead to not be. Which still can be arranged.

Eduardo's knife moves lower, leaving a trail of blood. He doesn't seem to be fascinated by this – eyes fixed on Mark's – he's just delivering his point which can be appreciated if you ask Mark. "I want some answers. Are you working alone?"

"You know I'm not."

The knife stops in the middle of Mark's breastbone, sharp end biting into Mark's skin, "I have one question and three answers. You better pick the right one. The reason for you being here. Do you want to kill my father, make a deal with him or blackmail him in return for me?"

"The first one." Eduardo's face doesn't give away any emotion on the possibility of Mark picking the right answer. He keeps looking Mark in the eye.

"As a good son, I should kill you."

"You should." Mark agrees and considers his options for the best way out.



Q is silent in the car on the way to Eduardo's place but he caresses a Browning in his jacket and he intends to follow James into the apartment despite Bond's protests.

James parks the car down the West Newton street, across from Eduardo's apartment and gives a look to Q while taking out his Beretta. "Follow me in only and if I tell you so."

Q doesn't say a word, raising his chin to meet Bond's stare.

"I'm serious, Q." Q knows this cold tone, this tone leaves no place for argument, so he just turns away with a nod.



Bond is outfitted with a mic and a pinhole camera because Q doesn't lose ‘anyone, anymore’, and five minutes after, there's a curse from Bond. Q sees inside of Eduardo's apartment on the tablet and his body turns cold.

"Check the bodies," Q throws.

But Bond is already doing that, taking out his handkerchief and carefully checking three bodies for a pulse, making sure Q sees their faces.

Bond goes through the whole apartment and finds nothing worth attention. Q gets to the same conclusion.

"Clear." James gives a final look and turns away.

"Our boy was definitely here," he adds as he quietly locks the door behind himself.



"If we don't find him in his room, I give you permission to find and kill him." Q notifies Bond in a flat tone while keeping his eyes on the tablet in case a red dot on the map – indicating Mark – appears.

Calls to Mark's phone still go to his voicemail and Eduardo's phone is turned off.

They drive a few blocks in another direction just to make sure they weren't followed, and after, they turn to Mark's hotel.



Hotel clerk assures them that Mark didn't return to his room but it doesn't mean they don't check it.

They ride in an elevator in silence, sharing space with two strangers who seem to pick up the tense mood and stay quiet. Q catches the relieved sign from them the moment he follows Bond out of the elevator.

Mark's room is clear and in the same state its owner left while he talked to Q the last time - on his way to the date with Eduardo.

Q gives room the final check and quickly leaves the hotel – steps large and hurried down the stairs – not bothering with the elevator or looking back, knowing Bond would follow.



Bond starts the car, giving a quick glance over his shoulder, and drives without saying a word.

They both know where they're going without announcing it out loud – to their rented apartment. Currently, it's the next place Mark can be found in.



They drive over three blocks when Q's phone rings.

At James's glance Q answers with a light shake of his head indicating that the caller ID is unknown.

Q cautiously presses the phone to his ear only to hear the familiar voice, "Q?"

His body visibly relaxes.

"You arsehole!" Q says in greeting, raising his voice, stressing on syllable 'r'. "Tell me where the hell are you!"

"We're in telephone booth six blocks from Eduardo's apartment. We are not followed."

"For now." Another voice cuts in and Bond notices the tension sipping back into Q's body.

"For now," Mark repeats grudgingly.

"We?" Q echoes in a highly unpleased voice.

"Yeah, I'll explain it later."

"Oh, you can count on it." He promises and then, listens to Mark's directions.



Bond and Q pick them up twenty minutes later and nobody says a word when they climb into the backseat.

They drive for ten minutes when Bond surprises them by parking the car a few blocks from their apartment.

He kills the engine and turns to see three sets of 'calculating the possible options' stares.

"Now, we all have about ten minutes before Q starts asking questions." Bond delivers, jaw set. "And trust me, Mark, in his case there'll be guns and shooting involved."

Q opens his mouth and shuts it right after Bond gives him an unimpressed look that Mark is used to reading as 'you do not want to mess with me right now, Q.'

"Thuswise, for everyone's benefit I'll be the one to do the talking. And there is one important rule: I ask the question and I want to hear the answer only from the person I'm referring it to. Understood?"

They unenthusiastically give him nods and Bond concentrates his gaze at Mark. "What makes you think that we want Eduardo among us and to not stick to the initial plan?"

Mark's voice is intentionally reasonable and calm, "There are killers after his head and he wants their deaths in exchange for his father's location."

Bond is not affected by this, "Did you give any thought to a chance of him being in cahorts with the killers and just playing you to get to all of us?”

"I did, but I was there when they were trying to kill him. And I assure you, they were pretty keen on giving him a one way ticket to see God."

"And you trust him enough to bring him in?" Bond raises his eyebrows.

"Trust? No. But it's in his best interest to help us to get rid of the guys".

Q is twitching in his seat the whole time and Bond finally turns to him and indicates with a wave of his hand that he is welcomed to speak.

Q doesn't hide his scowl talking to Eduardo, "Why come to us and not to your father?"

"My, my..." Eduardo chuckles in answer, "who do you think sent those 'nice' guys over to kill me? They're my father's people. The ones I worked with before."

They mull over information for a moment, before Q promises, "I'll check it."

Bond revs the engine and hears Eduardo talking quietly to Mark, voice rich with sarcasm, "I'm flattered you think I'd be meeting God when I die and not the other guy".

Bond shakes his head.



Unsettlingly, Mark was an open book to Eduardo since the moment he met him.

When Mark asks Eduardo how he figured it out, he snorts and tells him that they're not the only guys knowing their way around the Internet, "More people can play this game, Mark. Don't ever underestimate me."



Back in Eduardo's apartment, Wardo was the one to eliminate the first guy, throwing the handcuff keys to Mark and making sure he stays out of gunfire.

After, Mark took his gun and took care of others two.

What Mark remembers the most is the thrill and the "right" feeling of it. They worked like clockwork. No words. Efficient smooth work, backing up each other like there was one body for two.

They left the apartment before Mark tackled Eduardo on the floor and let some of that tense energy go that seem to poison his body whenever he was near Eduardo.

It wasn't just fucking, and that fact alone scared the hell out of Mark.



"The whole situation is a mess. I don't trust Mark's judgement in this," Q mutters to Bond, fingers hovering over the laptop.

Different sources confirm Eduardo's information but Q keep searching for more proofs, even though Mr.Saverin isn't making a secret of trying to get rid of his weak spot.

Eduardo knows too much to have a chance for a new life.

Bond props himself against the headboard, sitting next to Q on the bed and smoking, ashtray in his free hand. "We want his father and we can get his father. It's in Eduardo's best interest to help us. No change of plans on that front."

His voice is calm and it only gets on Q's nerves. "Mark is in love with him, don't you see?" He snaps.

"I would be blind not to." Bond says dryly, crushing a cigarette butt into ashtray, and standing up. "It's late. I'm taking the couch."

Q jerks his head and fixes his gaze on the wall somewhere over Bond’s head, his lips move as he tries to come up with something convincing for Bond to share the bed.

"If you must–," he starts, indignantly.

"Just say it!" Bond barks.

"I'm not offering a thing," Q lowers his gaze to glare at him.

The words come in a clipped tone. "And what do you offer?"

"I don't have to say it, do I?"

"Oh yes, you do."

"You’d have to wait years for it, Bond." Q promises, wound up and hating this situation, hating himself and James for forcing it out of him, for cornering him like this.

"No," James answers with a bitter smile, calming down, resolution in the voice, "I don't. I help you with this and then I’m gone."

He grabs his coat from the back of the chair, "I need some fresh air."

When he leaves, Q keeps sitting with the laptop in his hands. He ignores his fingers failing to type down a word because they shake, while choking down the dry sobs suffering his throat.



Mark dismantles and pieces together his gun on the bed, watching Wardo out of the corner of his eye.

There are two rooms in the apartment, and they occupy the one without the couch.

"Should I offer you to take the bed with me sleeping on the floor?" Mark says, feeling slightly out of his comfort zone, glancing to scan Eduardo's face for possible reactions.

"Oh please," Eduardo snorts, coming closer and shrugging off his jacket, letting it fall on the bed, "nobility doesn't suit you. Just because I didn't let those assassins kill you doesn't mean I won't do it myself if I have to."

"Good to know where I stand," Mark answers, bitterness and defensiveness making his tone threatening and cold, hand instinctively closing over the gun.

Eduardo’s hand squeezes Mark’s, forcing him to tighten the grip on the cold metal, "But it doesn't mean I won't break every bone in anybody else's body who dares to threaten you." He shares darkly, picking out every word and watching Mark’s irises widen.



All things considered, Bond should have seen it coming.

He lights the cigarette outside the building, and walks down the street to the nearest bar.

When he turns left to the alley, throwing out the cigarette butt, his gut alarms him that something is wrong but he doesn't even have time to put out his Beretta – hand reaching inside his coat – before something bites into his neck and he starts losing his conscience.

With numb fingers he fishes out his cell phone but it slips out of his fingers onto the sidewalk and James loses himself in the darkness.



Green curtains are pushed apart and the room is bathed in moonlight.

"I bruise easily", Wardo pants into Mark's neck, skin sweat, and Mark nods, curtly.

Eduardo shoves down onto Mark's cock, making them both groan.

"Fuck harder, Mark." He commands.

Mark grabs his thighs, fingers biting into the flesh, intending to leave marks, and watches Eduardo wince and smile in answer. He brings him down roughly, thrusting up into the willing body, watching every emotion crossing another man’s face.

There are so many twisted unwelcomed emotions inside Mark concerning Eduardo. And more, so much more of something he should not be feeling.

Lines of Eduardo's body make him want to leave bruises, but his thumbs caress his skin like he's the most unique and beautiful thing Mark has ever seen.

Deep inside, there's a whisper to snap Eduardo's neck and be done with confusion and complications another man brought into his life. Mark doesn't listen. He fucks Eduardo harder and just gives him what he needs.



Q keeps looking for any clue that he missed, spending a whole night wrapped up inside the world of the names and numbers, shutting himself out from the mess James and him created.

He shakes out of his haze when his cell phone alarm goes off. His hand mechanically jerks to turn it off while his eyes register time and inform his brain.

James must have returned by now.

Q doesn't call him, instead he turns on the cell phone indicator of James's phone which the man will never learn about, as long as Q is concerned. What James doesn't know won't harm him.

The dot informs him of James' location being close to the apartment.



Ten minutes later the dot keeps blinking on the same spot and Q leaves off to check it, snagging jacket from the bed, while ignoring apprehension tightening his stomach into knots.

Q doesn't operate with assumptions, he operates with facts.



Mark draws patterns on Wardo's chest, circling the area around his heart like painting the target.

"If your father comes after you I will kill him." He says thoughtfully.

Eduardo's hand flies to grip his on the wrist painfully, stopping the movements. "You will do no such thing, Mark." He barks and jerks Mark's hand away.

Mark watches Eduardo moving away and putting on the briefs and pants, movements stiff. "He is my father and it's up to me, so stay out of it."

"Your father?" Mark spits, voice filling with ugly disdain as he moves to stand in front of Eduardo, not giving a damn about his nakedness. "This asshole wants to kill you! Kill his own son!"

"It's nothing personal." Eduardo's gaze is challenging. "It's just how things are in this line of work. Doesn't mean he doesn't love me."

"What the hell? Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth?" He almost shouts.

Eduardo says nothing, chin raised and eyes burning.

Mark wants to shake him. Hard. "And what do you think we're gonna do to him once you give us his directions?! Pat him on the back and give him a valentine card?"

"I pay him back by giving you an upper hand but he's got a good chance of getting out of this alive."

"And you're gonna help him?" Mark asks scornfully.

"By not letting you kill him? Yes." Eduardo moves away to collect his shirt.

"He's a fucking killer." Mark grabs another man's shoulder, spinning him to bring face-to-face.

"Yes!" Eduardo confirms harshly. "And who the fuck are you, Mark?"

Mark lets him go, hands dropping. "Wardo," he starts placatingly.

"Don't call me that!" Eduardo snaps.

They stand confronting each other and Mark was never the one to back away from the challenge but right now, he loathes it. He desperately wishes for Eduardo to back off because he's assured they'll both stand their ground.



They hear the bang on the door before it bursts open.

Q storms into the room and points the gun at Eduardo, his voice is cool and deadly, "Tell me where the hell your father is before I give Mark a solid reason to hate me."



Eduardo gives them directions for his father’s location and it was the initial plan all along, except now it is additionally for Bond’s possible cage.

Eduardo doesn’t look Mark’s way, answering only Q’s questions. Mark doesn’t have the luxury to feel frustrated about that. They’ve got job to do. They need to get Bond out of there alive before Q decides to burn the whole town to the ground in his search for James.

Q messes with Saverin’s security system, getting hold of it, making sure it’s gone unnoticed, and checks every possible room for James’ cell, indicating two of them as the most possible ones.

Before they go, armed with guns and Q’s tech, Q gives Eduardo a hard stare. “James is better to be alive for me to kick the shit out of him after.”

Eduardo answers with an unkind smile and Mark doesn’t say a word, pushing Eduardo out of the door and away from Q.



Three of them approach the building which misleadingly looks like an abandoned factory.

“How cliché,” Q comments darkly.

Q deals with all the rooms that have locks, and they ‘miraculously’ lock down when they enter the place.

Some of the guards are already missing from the building thanks to Q messing with their line and sending them away.

Mark holds the gun to Eduardo’s temple because if he doesn’t, Q will replace him and Mark doesn’t trust his hand to not ‘accidentally’ pull the trigger.

Q wears the glasses which transfer the video stream from Saverin’s system he hacked and he silently points to the places where another Saverin’s man will appear, allowing them to quickly and efficiently get rid of them.

Q is honored to kill the first guard they see. Mark averts his hand from Eduardo for a moment to shoot other two.

There are too many rooms inside the building and still too many open spaces for Mark’s liking.

They go through the place, checking every hall and clearing all the rooms.

They try not to make too much noise which is impossible and it gets on Mark’s nerves.

Mark hates when it gets messy and he loses control over things. He likes it clean and clear.

But there is a bunch of guys waiting for his attention and he has to be a gentleman and get personal with them.

At one point, Mark has to pull his hand away from Eduardo for more than one minute – four guys are waiting for his bullets which Q indicates with pointing up four fingers – and Eduardo doesn’t waste time freeing himself when Mark is busy with shooting, kicking him in the shin, and running away. His farewell gift for Mark is switching a gun from the guy on the floor that Mark just killed and shooting the last of Mark’s opponents.

Mark swears but it’s only a waste of air.

Q glares at him not even pointing the gun at Eduardo’s retreating back and fires a final shoot at one of the bodies on the floor that dared to move.

Q’s green shirt is turning red on his shoulder and Mark gives him a questioning look.

“I’m fine.” Q hisses, hand pressing down on his shoulder, “the factory is clear. I’m going after James, I found his room. You take Saverin senior, he should be alone. Make sure he is the one who is dead by time we found you.”



Mark knows where Saverin should be, thanks to Q, and if he’s smart enough he should be gone by now, but Mr. Saverin has other plans.

Mark finds him in his cabinet, surrounded by fine red furniture and leather coaches.

“How cliché,” Mark mentally repeats Q.

The man stands in the middle of the room, gentle smile playing on his face, with one gun pointing at Mark and another – at his son in front of him, “I’ve heard you got attached to my boy, Zuckerberg.”

Mark doesn’t say a word, answering Saverin with the same treatment – pointing the gun at him, while he looks at Eduardo. There’s no emotions flickering across young man’s face and Mark just can’t read him.

“Now, don’t get tongue tied. We are all family now. I see my boy found someone who appreciates the killer in him. His mother wasn’t as understanding as you are.”

Mark watches Eduardo’s face but his cold brown eyes don’t give anything away.



Q goes after James through poorly lighted hall. Video stream indicates one dark figure slowly coming his way on the next corner and two figures still being present in the room where James is locked.

Q raises his gun slowly turning left and finds James in the dark hall, leaning on the wall for support with the gun in his hand, his face bloody and legs barely holding him.

“Stupid old fool! Couldn’t wait for me to save you?” Q doesn’t need to go further into the room to confirm that two other figures are dead.

“Not my fault youth these days are too slow.” Bond muses and instantly grabs Q’s shoulder to check his wound.

“And here I thought I’d have something to tell our grandchildren,” Q mutters when Bond is done and lets him go.

Bond gives him a sideway glance but doesn’t comment, leaning half of his weight on Q.



“You should let him go.” Eduardo informs his father in a calm voice.

“I don’t think that’s a smart idea. Don’t you want your boy to understand that there’s no good guy in this room?! Especially you, my son. ” Saverin keeps smiling at Mark as if they met at some tea party. “Oh, I raised him good.”

Mark just wants him dead. He doesn’t care what Eduardo says.

“I’m not advising.” Eduardo’s voice gets edgy. “It’s between you and me. He won’t get even close to understanding us. He should be gone and far away. Safe.” The last word holds the unhidden threat.

“Yes, you’re right.” Saverin’s tone is changed to cold and unkind. It’s his real voice, the one that people wish not to hear.

Mark feels it – cold realization in the pit of his stomach – the bullet for him is on its way.

“Father!” The loud command from Eduardo is ignored.

Mark makes the shot of his own, ducking and hoping that he’s faster. Room fills with the sounds of gunshots, Mark counts three and feels as if the air leaves his lungs.

There’s only one gunshot that reaches the body and makes it hit the floor.

Mark instinctively falls on his knees next to Wardo, trying to be closer to him, trying to reach him.

“Wardo,” he whispers.

Eduardo closes his eyes for a moment, holding the bloody, lifeless body of his father in his embrace.

Mark waits.

Eduardo’s face is twisted in pain but his eyes are icily cold when he looks back. “It’s done. He is dead. I killed him. It’s done. Just like we are.”

Mark doesn’t say a word and keeps sitting next to him, chest painfully tight. His mind shuts down on any possible direction to go forward without Wardo.



Shortly after, they set the building on fire and leave. Nothing else to be done.



Q checks James into the hospital under the false identity and stays with him as his husband which provokes raised eyebrows from Mark.

They stay for only two days which is perfectly fine with medical personnel as they already caught them having sex and according to Q it was practically innocent act, compared to other times.

When another nurse gets yelled by Q for not giving a proper treatment (“Next time you’ll show me your medical diploma before I let you get close to him”), Bonds sighs, leaning down onto the cushions.

"You are not a good person, Q." He observes.

"I am in love with you!" Q barks, angry at himself, and Bond smiles.

"I know. Poor bastard. You wish you weren't."

“Not like I have a choice.” Q keeps fuming and Bond keeps smiling.



They return to their apartment and Q doesn’t even let James lock the door before he stops him with the hand on his wrist.

"If we're gonna do this," Q mouths the next words as if they leave a bad taste in his mouth, "'not leaving each other thing', we're gonna do it in a proper way."

He puts out the ring from his pocket, frowning down at a plain silver ring, and holds it on an open palm for James to observe.
No velvet boxes or diamond rings, Bond muses.

"And what if I say no?" he doesn't let a hint of amusement to sneak into his voice.

Q looks at him thoughtfully, absorbing received data. "I can lock down the whole building with no chances of you getting out."

"How very modern of you." James takes the ring and inspects it cautiously, not looking Q's way. "Shouldn't you be kneeling?"

He lifts his gaze to catch Q's deadly glare.



Mark catches Eduardo at the airport, and stands in his way, glaring at the bag on Eduardo’s shoulder.

“You planned to leave without saying goodbye.” He states the obvious because he wants to hear the answer.

“I did,” confirms Eduardo absentmindedly, not looking his way, and somehow Mark’s eyes sting but he pushes the topic further.

“Do you plan on coming back?” He adds, anger making his hands bail into the fists in his parka’s pockets.

To me’ he doesn’t add which is uncessasary as they both hear it very clear.

Eduardo shakes his head once, still not meeting Mark’s eyes, and Mark snorts and just turns away from him, his feet demanding to leave as fast as possible.

“Maybe,” he abruptly catches from Wardo, his body freezing for a second and jerking back to meet Eduardo, but he’s already lost in the crowd.



After the wedding Q and Bond move to Switzerland for a year.

“This old man needs some fresh air.” Q explains out loud and is punished to fetch James some exclusive coffee from a store on the other side of the town.

Mark visits them twice.

James insists they’re having a long but well deserved rest in the Alps.

But sometimes Mark catches the news of some bad guys accidentally dying in the mountains. Well, skiing is a dangerous hobby.



Mark moves to San Francisco.

He tries to lay low, busy with mostly hacking. Steady job, good income. Healthy but not too boring.

He even starts dating. The guy is tall, with unruly hair and big brown eyes but his name is not Eduardo.

Mark is good. He is fine. Really.



Eduardo finds Mark in the coffee shop eight months after he left him and it all feels so familiar that for a moment Mark forgets things changed so much since their first meeting.

Eduardo pushes his way through people and moves into Mark’s personal space like he belongs there. Mark keeps looking at him with wide open eyes, forcefully freezing his body from gravitating towards Eduardo.

“I’m dating someone,” Mark says instead of greeting.

He is. Brian is a good guy and if Mark still can’t forget Eduardo, it’s Mark’s problem and not Brian’s.

“I know,” Eduardo says and grabs Mark’s shoulder making his breath shatter. “He’s a really nice guy, you know. You shouldn’t put him in danger.”

“He is not in danger,” Mark bites out and tries to push Eduardo away. People start giving them glances.

“He wasn’t.” Eduardo corrects and smiles down at Mark.

Mark digs his fingers painfully into Eduardo’s bicep. “Oh, now you sound like a real Saverin.”

“Daddy warned you. Should have listened to him, Mark.” Eduardo sing-songs and grips Mark’s chin.

“I came for you.” His voice is low, deadly serious and not welcoming resistance from Mark.

“Eduardo–,” Mark starts warningly, frustrated as he’s stuck between being pissed off and excited, with bunch of other feelings on the side. All range of emotions only Eduardo can provoke.

As an answer, Mark gets his cheek bitten.

He gasps involuntary, “Wardo.”

“That’s better,” Eduardo muses and licks his cheek, soothing the pain, before his tongue moves to find Mark’s mouth.

“Asshole,” Mark mutters between the kisses.

They kiss in the middle of the coffee shop, with people watching them. Eduardo tugs at Mark’s curls while the back of his neck reddens under Mark’s unforgiving short nails.



Eight months earlier

Eduardo chooses Ireland as his destination after he kills his father and leaves Mark at the apartment.

He doesn’t expect Mark to appear at the airport and despite all his willpower, the guy with the bright blue eyes is the one to break him.

He says ‘maybe’ and curses himself for months after. This ‘maybe’ lingers in the back of his mind like a promise to Mark. Promise he cannot deny. Because this is Mark.

What is left of Saverin’s guys is insignificant and is scattered around, playing alone or joining other players.

Still, Eduardo keeps tabs on them. There’s always someone who is stupid enough to not move on.

There is.

He catches up with him in New York. Big guy, acting alone and trying to find Mark in attempt to get Eduardo. This leaves him no chances, in Eduardo’s book.

Eduardo makes it personal. He strangles him to death with a garrote wire and leaves his dead body sitting in the Central Park to welcome the sunrise.



Next destination, Chicago.

Chicago soothes him with rain, tapping sounds against the windows making him breathe in and out like there’s only now, weather asking to not worry about the past and future.

He misses Mark. Over and over again.

But Mark is the one whom he cannot control. Who has the power over Eduardo.

After a few months Mark starts dating. Eduardo checks the guy and finds him completely clean, no suspicious records.

Still, he checks public video surveillance cameras from time to time. It doesn’t help with the gut wrenching pain in his chest.

But Eduardo is good. He is moving on. He is.

He starts making plans of moving to England when he detects that someone searches for him, and alarmingly – successfully tracing his steps. Tension sits in his body until he finds out who the smartass is.

It’s Mark. Fucking Mark. Of course.

The only person who can find him if he wants.

Eduardo starts smiling.



Now

Mark and Eduardo stand at the airport in front of the flight information board.

Eduardo puts his bag down and smirks at Mark, “Pick the destination and let’s start the game.”

“What are the rules?” Mark has this private smile that Eduardo eyes hungrily.

“There are two players, both – leading. If you start the game, there’s no way out.”

“The trick?”

“We can make and break the rules as we go but the ones I mentioned are permanent.”

“Any victims?” Mark’s hand adjusts shoulder strap of his backpack while his body makes barely visible movement bringing him closer to Eduardo.

He gets the sweetest smile in answer. “If anyone dares to come across the player I like – I will act upon it.”

Eduardo jerks forward until they share the same body heat without touching.  They almost vibrate the desire to touch each other but intentionally keep holding back.

This time, Mark smiles widely, “Got a codename for that player you like?”

“The one.”


The End

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