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The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

zuckonitkinkeme zuckonitkinkeme wrote in tsn_kinkmeme
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quick note; GUYS. please be aware that if you posted a prompt in part six and it is now screened, i have posted them to the post already - so that you guys don't have to. thanks for being patient and making the fill-a-thon such a success!

sorry i didn't get much of delicious done; i lacked the internet over the break but rest assured i have absolutely nothing to do so will get it, hopefully.




IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post.
♥ be respectful.
♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted.
♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please.
♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make.
♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...)
♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships.
♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged!
♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible.
♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;))


♥ alphabetize pairings/threesomes/moresomes. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark/Sean etc.)
♥ put [RPF] before RPF prompts. (e.g. [RPF] Andrew/Jesse)
♥ for crossover prompts: "[Crossover], The Social Network Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]" (e.g. [Crossover], Eduardo/Columbus, [Zombieland])
♥ no "!" in pairings, only in descriptions. (e.g. Eduardo/Mark, FacebookCreator!Eduardo, CFO!Mark)
♥ anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Sean/Other)
♥ put [GEN] before GEN prompts.


♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos.
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♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not.
♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc.
♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one.
NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.






have fun!

THERE WILL BE UNMARKED SPOILERS. enter at your own risk! :D


i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.

AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five or six over here again. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. (prompts for parts one and two are now up for reposting.)



Mark/Eduardo Music and Lyrics AU

So I don't know if this has been prompted yet, but I really want to see Mark and Eduardo as Alex and Sophie.

Like, Mark is the washed-up singer who needs this new gig. And Eduardo is the young idealistic songwriter who writes his new song. And, idk, if you're feeling up to it, Sean can be the singer who wants to hurt the integrity of Wardo's song! Which is a good parallel because Sean is also Justin Timberlake who is a singer!

I don't know, it's 3:00 AM and I just finished watching Music and Lyrics and this just seems like a really really good idea right now.

fill - not just another negotiation 1/?

Mark loved his job.

He went to places and sang them songs that reminded people of the past, when he could fit into women’s size 00 pants, could wear ridiculously bright hoodies and when he could write decent songs.

His last decent song Sean had released on his solo album without credit to Mark. Needless to say, about $10,000 dollars in alcohol and $400,000 in therapy bills, Mark had taken these gigs to stay in his little apartment, pay Peter, and occasionally buy himself things like DVD’s, food, go to the movies.

So these Battle of the ‘80’s Has-Been’s people, they got him. He just wanted to be remembered as Mark, that guy from FACEBOOK! who still has an incredible ass and can do the hip pop thing.

But fighting people? The first time Mark had come out to anyone was to Tiffani and she had punched him in the nuts and called him a fag for the rest of their tour. And as much as Mark wanted to be out back then, he valued his balls too much to do that. And now that he was out – cover of PEOPLE May 1, 1995 – he didn’t want to get beaten in the dick multiple times for maybe scamming on NKOTB a few times. It was harmless.

When he declined, he could see the little intern from VH1 sigh. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be noticed for his awesome past, he just valued his dick.

Was that such a crime?


When Peter came over after Mark had texted him about the no good, horrible deal that the VH1 people had offered him, he figured they were going to talk business. Knott’s Berry Farm was coming up soon, and he always got his hair cut and new clothes around that time, so Peter normally found a stylist that loved the eighties and would give them a discount.

He had slept with the last three, so that’s why there was always a new one.

Instead, Peter looked excited. This was like beyond levels of excited that Mark had seen since, well.

Since there was a chance of Mark actually doing a song on Oprah, but she had cancelled that episode instead to host Kanye talking about why he pulled the whole Taylor Swift stunt.

“Mark! I didn’t know it was boxing, if I had known I would have avoided it all together, you know, the whole Tiffani thing.”

Mark shrugged. “It’s okay, I mean, if push comes to shove I can always just pull Flock of Seagulls’ hair like I did on our tour in 1989. Lead singer’s more of a girl than I am.”

“I really am sorry, Mark. I’m sorry but I don’t regret sending you there. Do you know why?”

“You got drunk beforehand and are going to play me one of my songs on the piano again?”

Peter snorted. That happened at least once every year, the two of them had gotten the last few times on video tape. Instead of smacking Mark, he reached for the Rolling Stone that he had balled up under his arm. “Because of him.” Staring back at Mark was a ginger man of about 20 with spiky hair, his hands in a prayer pose, his arms extremely muscular. “Dustin. He’s bigger than Timberlake and Bieber combined. And guess who he loves?”

“Sean Parker?” Mark deadpanned, and Peter’s eyes thinned before he sighed.

“You. He’s a huge FACEBOOK! fan and he wants to meet you, Mark. He doesn’t give a fuck about Parker, apparently. It’s even in the article –“ Peter opened the magazine and even had the part tabbed, and Mark was going to laugh it was so pathetic until Peter read the excerpt out loud, “He said, people who embrace themselves and try to make music and not make themselves a brand, that’s the type of people I like. Like Mark Zuckerberg, his last album wasn’t a great hit but it was actually good. Better than Parker’s, anyway.

Then the buzzer rang, and Peter turned to see where the noise was coming from, while Mark was still absorbing the shock of some buff ginger liking his shit fest of an album.

Re: fill - not just another negotiation 1/?

I'm a ball of excitement now. All thanks to you. :)

fill - not just another negotiation 2/?

It was the buzzer that normally meant food was here. Immediately Mark’s stomach growled, but he hadn’t ordered anything.

“Hold that thought.” He said to Peter as he headed for the door. “Kahn, I’ve missed you.”

“Mark, I have Eduardo here for you.” Behind him, Peter raised an eyebrow

“That sounds like fun, who is he?”

“He’s here to do your plants.” Peter started to cough and Mark turned around to see a red faced fifty year old glaring at him over his kitchen’s island.

“But Louise does my plants.”

“He says that this is the best time for him, and he can be in and out in five minutes.”

Mark sighed, “Okay, let him up.” Letting go of the button, he turned back to Peter, who seemed to be fine. “So does this Dustin guy have a last name or?”

“Yeah but why do you have a plant lady?”

Mark sighed. Peter didn’t understand the nuances of being Mark Zuckerberg sometimes, and it was weird to have to explain every little thing he did to someone who had known him for the better half of his life. “Because when a man occasionally retires to my house with me, it makes it seem as if I actually live here instead of just house my stuff here.”


“Yeah, one of them told me once they found plants in a house comforting.”

“Oh, so if I had plants I’d still be married?”

“Yes, it was not Susan’s raging nymphomania that ended your marriage but your lack of vegetation.” Mark shot Peter a look. He hadn’t been the same since Susan had handed him divorce papers, and to be honest it bummed Mark out.

Not like he especially liked Susan – she was awful compared to Peter’s girlfriend before, Anna. Anna had given Mark back rubs and told him to sing in a different language, and didn’t laugh when he had tried to sell Peter and the record company a techno version of ‘La Vie En Rose.’

Someone knocked on the door as they both pondered that thought. “Hang on.” Mark said for a second, and stalked over to the door.

When he opened it any anger he had turned into a giant thought of ‘what the hell, did you get lost or something or is this some sort of practical joke’ because the person in front of him could not be looking for Mark.

He was too good looking for Mark.


Eduardo was nervous. He normally loved to help people out, and Louise – his neighbor with four kids and two apartments – couldn’t make her rounds today because Paolo had come down with the most awful sort of flu, and she had come to Eduardo for help.

But this whole apartment to apartment thing had scared him. What should he wear? Should he pretend to be someone he wasn’t? Were suits proper watering wear?

He had thrown on some casual jeans – ‘casual’ meaning they cost more than they should have and were dark – and a white and dark blue pinstripe shirt, rolling it up to the elbow and buttoning it efficiently. His hair was standing in perfect waves, and he kept practicing his smile in every elevator he took. It had to look charming, effortless, calm.

The last person had not made him any sort of calm.

This person was staring at him like he was an apparition.


“Hello, I’m Eduardo Saverin.”

“I’m Mark Zuckerberg.”

“Did you not get the message from Louise? She was supposed to call you and let you know I’d be doing your plants for the next couple of days. One of her boys has the flu.”

“Oh, that’s bad. Which one?”

Eduardo gave Mark a look. Mark was not a person who looked very into children, but Eduardo pushed it aside. “Paolo.”

“The troublemaker. Anyway, come inside.” Mark stepped to the side, and Eduardo glided in.

“I hope you have your own watering can because Louise said everyone had their own watering can, but this last guy, Monsieur Renard or whatever, he didn’t have his own, and he kept saying to me‘Salope aller plus vite and my knowledge of French just made me want to smack him sideways.”

“I once dated a Frenchman once. Nasty manners.”

Re: fill - not just another negotiation 2/?

<3 (most useless comment ever but that's what I thought).

fill - not just another negotiation 3/?

“Well my plant stuff is in the kitchen under the sink and I,” Mark enunciated, “have my own watering can.” Mark smiled, his big one, and he immediately wanted to close his mouth. His smile normally freaked people out – big and wide and dimply.

Instead Eduardo smiled back, “Well, merci beaucoup.” He turned around, and Mark shuddered. This dude was freaking him out – normally people just talked at Mark, not to him. Not like they didn’t know who he was

“Hello, I’m Peter Thiel, Mark’s manager.” Peter extended his hand, and Eduardo elegantly reached out and shook it.

“Eduardo Saverin, wonderful to meet you.” Who was this dude, Mark wondered, with incredible manners, and why was he helping Louise with her plants when he obviously belonged in a beautiful people showroom or something, escorting them around. “So, is that the kitchen?” Eduardo said, pointing at the kitchen area. Mark nodded. “Excellent.” Eduardo strode quickly into the next room, leaving Mark and Peter in silence for a few seconds.

Until Peter piped up again with, “So, Dustin, isn’t that just great?”

“Is this even a good idea? The last time you suggested I write with someone I ended up getting a restraining order for them.”

Peter sighed. “True.”

“Pros and Cons.”

“Pro – It’ll be a bigger hit then you’ve had in years. Great publicity. Terrific money.”


“No matter what you do, in forty years we’ll both be dead.” Mark sighed and stared out the window for a minute, listening as he heard Eduardo bustle around the apartment with the watering can, tending to the plants. It was kind of comforting, Mark admitted; he always liked when Louise came over and told him stories about her kids, her bum of an ex-husband, her life in general. “Mark.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Peter lit up like a firecracker. “Good, because things like this don’t come often.” Mark knew that, he wasn’t stupid. “Dustin is shooting a video in the city tonight, he wants to meet both of us right after.”

“Tonight? What if I had plans?” Mark deadpans, and the two of them laugh.
A scream comes from the room next door, and Mark gets to his feet before he could do anything about it, peering out of the door. Peter, still impossibly tall at fifty, peers over his head. Eduardo is standing in the middle of his common area, sucking on his finger.

Mark’s mind goes south for a few seconds. He manages to stumble out, “Are you, are you alright?”

Eduardo’s eyes shoot to the two of them – who must look like The Odd Couple for Christ’s sake – his big, brown eyes manic. “Do you have a Band-Aid and antibiotic cream?”

Peter bursts out laughing – there is a reason Mark’s had the same manager for so long, Peter was more like his assistant and Mark was notorious for doing things on his laptop or in neat little booklets which he never got paper cuts from. He also avoided playing sports, besides fencing, and even then he always managed to stay either safe or padded from head to toe.

“No.” Mark stuttered out, elbowing Peter in the side. “No, I don’t, and I seem to have lent out my Iron Lung and arm sling.”

“Oh.” Eduardo said, and looked at his finger like it was the source of all evil. “Oh, well I’m going to go then – you know, my neighbor has sick kids, and I should really run to the store and get a little first aid kit and dress this up – you know how things spread around kids and I was going to watch hers tonight, and I’m a little hypochondrical and I cannot afford to get sick, so.” He picked up his jacket from where he had hung it on a hook Mark rarely used and often bumped in to, “So I’m going to go and I’ll be back tomorrow to finish looking after your plants. I’m going to get this looked at.” He slid his jacket back on and then held out his finger like it was a spoon on the end of his hand. “You should really have a first aid kit. Goodbye – have a nice night.”

He shut the door behind him. Mark was a little dumbstruck. “That was weird.”

“Don’t give him a key. No one that good looking should have a key.”

Mark sighed, then looked at Peter. “So you said something about tonight?”

“Yes – tonight we meet Dustin.”

Mark sighed again.

fill - not just another negotiation 4/?

(A/N: I imagine Dustin being something like senorita era Justin singing this song wearing/doing the reverse of what’s she’s wearing/doing.)

Mark didn’t understand.

It was so confusing – Mark avoided MTV after it’s VJ’s started to wear less than the people on the WB – but he had never see a video where some guy was dressed up as Poseidon with a bunch of random girls in black and yellow bikinis rotating around him as he sung about being one with Buddha.
Mark may have been a slightly out of practice Jew, but this was just excessive. It was like they were worshiping him or something.

Not like Dustin’s voice was bad or whatever – he sounded like a grown up Aaron Carter, something that Mark knew would never happen because Aaron had a giant vein in the middle of his forehead and a crack problem. Mark could totally work with that voice.

His body wasn’t bad either – it was obvious he lit up in front of a camera, and that he knew how to sell records and videos off of iTunes.

Peter whispered to Mark during a very intense scene where Dustin sat on the juncture of four girls’ backs and practically eye fucked the camera senseless, “He seems like a very spiritual kid.”

“Yeah – sure. It’s nice to see a young man exploring the boundaries of religion and sex.”

Peter snorted.


The ending scene of the video was every girl in the video kind of falling on top of and around Dustin, who was splayed out on a floor. When the director called cut, people from the floor cheered.

Mark didn’t blame them. The room was smoky and he didn’t even know what that floor looked like, and these kids were getting paid to sit on it.

Then a guy appeared at Peter’s side, and Peter smiled at him, so Mark forced a side of his mouth up in a greeting.

“Hi, I’m Billy, Dustin’s manager.”

“I’m Peter Thiel, and you know who this is.”

“Yeah, I’m Mark Zuckerberg. I’m sorry, did I miss something? Billy what?”

“Just Billy. Follow me, Dustin’s super excited to meet you.”

Peter shrugged at Mark, who shrugged at him in return and followed him.


They stopped in front of a giant burgundy tent, where Billy took his shoes off. “Please, remove your shoes.”

Peter smiled and batted his hand, “No, I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a request.” Mark immediately wiped the palms of his hands against his jeans, and leaned down and took his Nike Airs off, as Peter unlaced his dress shoes and they left them next to each other, both clumped up neatly around the thrown around Rainbows, TOMS, and a pair of dangerous looking high heels.


After getting into this giant red tent, they found Dustin sitting in a pair of black basketball shorts and a loose hoodie with his name embellished in gold on it, sitting on a mustard colored throne.

“D, this is Mark Zuckerberg and his manager, Peter Thiel.”

“Your video was beyond incredible. I wish I had brought my daughter, she’s such a huge fan of yours.” Mark smothered a laugh by a cough. “I’m divorced, but that’s another story.”

After Peter’s awkward rambling, Dustin got up and walked on his tip toes over to Mark. “Mister Zuckerberg, it’s a pleasure. Your song ‘The Wall’ helped me get through my parent’s divorce when I was seven.”

“Yeah, because I recorded that when I was nine, so it makes sense.”

“I want my fans to know the same spiritual uplift that your music gave me.” Dustin raised a hand to his chest, and Mark’s mind went to the part where he normally stored facts about people because damn, Dustin’s nails were perfect.

“Oh, that would be nice. I have a few songs that would be great for now’s musical scene.”

“Oh, I don’t live in the past, Mister Zuckerberg. It was so long. I want you to write a new song.”

Mark winced.

Re: fill - not just another negotiation 4/?

Oh my gosh, this Dustin is so strange to read.
Mark, you're right to wince. I don't think song writing is your thing either. You must enlist Wardo's help asap. <---me to absorbed with characters but that's not new. :D

Re: fill - not just another negotiation 4/?

Oh, YES. Awesome. So excited for thiiiis!

fill - not just another negotiation 5/?

“See, about that –"

“As you know, I recently broke up with my boyfriend. We had been together for two entire months.” Mark nodded. This made a lot of sense – why Dustin was wearing all black, and was he wearing eyeliner? Mark didn’t even want to know.

He only knew one thing – he could not write a song.

“But then I read a book my Guru Bodhisattva –“

“Madahara.” Billy interjected.

“Whatever. I like Bodhisattva better – the book was called ‘A Way Back Into Love’, and that, Mister Zuckerberg, will be the title of our new song. And in two weeks when I open my tour at Madison Square Garden we’ll perform it together.” Dustin gave Mark a smile that made his skin crawl – dude looked like a pint sized serial killer waiting for Mark to fall into his trap.

Or he was coming on to Mark. Mark didn’t know.

“Okay, here’s where the issue lies –"

“We also want to put the song on his new album, which is pretty much finished, so we’d need it by Friday.”

“Friday? Shit.” Mark mumbled, and Dustin raised an eyebrow. Was cursing not allowed in Buddhism? “Like, this Friday? As in three days from now?”

“Yeah!” Billy enthused, and Mark was sure of it – this guy was on some serious drugs. Mark had whittled it down to either speed or crack. “But don’t worry – we’ve got six other retro artists and one MC working on ‘Way Back Into Love’ in case you fall through.”

“Mister Zuckerberg, don’t look at this as a competition.” Mark raised an eyebrow – this kid must be on some sort of crack as well, and the two of them obviously were running a drug den on top of being multi-platinum recording stars. “If it’s meant to be, it will be. It’s destiny!” Dustin chirped, and Mark suppressed a giggle – Dustin had shown his age. “Or not.” Dustin looked a little disappointed at that, and Mark remembered – this kid had grown up on his music. He had probably bought the coming out cover of Mark, he had probably all of FACEBOOK!’s CD’s and he wanted Mark to be on his record.

He was just on speed.


After they had left what Mark called “the hellhole of the apparently on crack Buddhists”, Mark huffed down the street. There was no way, even if this kid was like the biggest fucking FACEBOOK! fan in the world that Mark was doing this. He was being punk’d. Again.

“How does that little twerp expect me to write a song in three days? Friday, goddamn it, Peter, I could write a song by next month if I tried hard enough, but Friday.”

“Mark, can I be frank with you?”


“We need this.”

“Not really! We’ve got the State Fairs tour coming up, and Knott’s Berry – "

“They’ve cancelled.”

“Knott’s Berry Farm cancelled on me? The fuckers.” Mark spit out. “What about the Apple picking?”

“Yeah, they love you. You always buy way too many apples anyway. But Great Adventure only wants you for three nights instead of ten.”

“Well shit.” Mark breathed in through his nose. “Why did you just spring this on me now? It’s my schedule!”

“Because you weren’t ready to hear it. Mark, it’s been fifteen years since FACEBOOK! Everyone and their brother are getting back on the road and touring again, and you nixed the boxing idea.” Peter sighed and Mark rubbed the bridge of his nose “There’s talk of a Spice Girl reunion.”

“That’s not my audience!”

“Ricky Martin, you know, the whole Oprah thing”

“Shit, I’m dead! I’m finished. Fuck, I’m going to end up doing bar mitzvahs.”

“Mark, get real. Thirteen year olds have no idea who you are.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“Look, Mark, we’ve just got to refresh your image. Then we’ll get Knott’s Berry back, and Great Adventure. Who knows, we may even get Disney Land.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Peter. You know Sean’s the darling of Disney and it kills me that they’ve never invited me.”

“After Dustin, who the hell will care about Sean?”

“Ugh, writing a song though? I thought I was done with that whole nightmare.”

“Just one song! One song and you can go back to parading around in your hoodies and your tight pants and getting all of the women at reunions to faint over you.”

fill - not just another negotiation 6/?

“It’s been ten years, and I need a lyricist, and it hasn’t ever worked with anyone besides Sean.”

“Look, I know. I booked this dude – he’s very hip, very edgy. He just worked with Avril.”

“Fine, whatever, but I will not put the words motherfucking princess into my song, okay?”

Peter raised his hands in defeat.


The next day, Mark tried to unsuccessfully kill Peter with his mind as this Avril dude – “My name’s Ryan Ross, you know, like of the Young Veins?” – who seemed to just want to write about death and fucking, neither of which were appropriate for Dustin’s audience.

About an hour in and Mark was trying to kill Ryan with his mind.

“Just give me a minute, I’m kind of blocked here.”

“What, do you not like the lyrics, dude?”

“No, man, they’re fine, just give me a fucking second –"

“Look, I understand if they’re a bit dark. Maybe you want something more commercial, more poppy, maybe a song about tearing walls down –"

“I’m going to ignore that thinly veiled insult.” A knock came at the door, and Mark got up, stretching and then gliding over to the door.

Standing there, again, was the gorgeous man who had almost lost a finger doing his plants yesterday. “Hello.”

“Hey, Kahn said I could just come up?” He was dressed up again, this time in navy pants, a crisp white shirt, and his peacoat was in his arms.

Mark didn’t know how to reply to this for a second, and checked Eduardo’s hand. “They were able to save your whole hand.”

Eduardo smiled and ducked his head, wiggling his finger out in front of him. “I know, I overreacted. It happens a lot. I just hate infections though, used to have them a lot as a child. Then again, who likes them? Probably the inventors of penicillin.”

“There are always two sides to every story.”

“True. Except the Nazi’s – I can’t really see the other side of that one.”
Mark nodded in agreement.

“Excuse me?” Ross piped up from the couch as Mark went back to the piano, and Eduardo turned around to see where the voice had come from.

“Oh, hello! I’m sorry I didn’t even see you there. Eduardo Saverin.” He made his way across the room in three quick strides, offering his hand to the other man.

“Wardo, this is Ryan Ross. He’s a noted lyricst.”

“And I was in a band.”

“Panic! At The Disco. I know. Anyway, I don’t want to disrupt you, though I see I already have. I’ll just get to what I came here to do – don’t tell me.” He then turned on his heel and went into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves.

“He’s really fucking hot.” Ross said, and Mark rolled his eyes.

“Good, uh, can you stop ogling my plant aid?”

“Is he coming back in here?”

“I guess, dude, unless you go directly back to the mothership.” Ross didn’t catch that – he was too busy trying to watch Eduardo do whatever in the kitchen. “Alright, let’s try this again, “Mark began to play, “ Give it up, I’m a bad hot witch, I look real good but I’m a nasty bitch, I can scream and claw and curdle your blood, but you’ll die on your way back into love. Oh well, I suppose it’s kind of morbid but –"

“No, you’ve got it all wrong. Start in the minor third, try that.”

Asshole, Mark thought, I’ve written more hit songs than years you’ve been alive. But he did as he was told – he had been promised Disney. “Give it up I’m a bad hot witch,”

“No you’re missing the whole point. You’re making it wholesome – it’s fine, the first line, but then it should be,”

“With a little magic I just might switch.” A voice piped in, and they both turned to Eduardo, who was humming to himself as he watered the ferns in the corner of the living area, not noticing that either of them had stopped to listen to him.

“Uh, Wardo, what did you just say?”

Eduardo turned around, face panicked, “Uh, I don’t remember?”

Re: fill - not just another negotiation 6/? - (Anonymous), 2011-07-06 05:14 pm (UTC)(Expand)
Re: fill - not just another negotiation 6/? - (Anonymous), 2011-07-13 09:26 pm (UTC)(Expand)

fill - not just another negotiation 7/?

“Well whatever you said was really, really good.”

“That wasn’t my lyric though!” Ross shouted, and internally Mark rolled his eyes – this guy had an attitude problem.

“I know it isn’t but it was a lovely phrase.”

“If you want shiny, happy lyrics that was four years ago for me, man. You should just pair up with plant boy over here to finish your cheery, happy lyrics.”

“Plant boy.” Eduardo rolled his eyes at the cactus he was watering.

“Finish it - Give it up I’m a bad hot witch/ but with a little magic I just might switch.”

“I’m only here for the plants, not to write award winning songs.”

“And you’re doing a great job with the plants though the one that you’re currently drowning is plastic.”

“Oh, shit.”

“This is a waste of time! I’m going back to the village.”

Eduardo stepped forward from his place among the plants “Fine, uh, lets fly my broom to the stars above/ and we’ll charm our way back into love.

“What’s the next line – Feelings, nothing more than feelings! You disgust me. I write real music, not this pop shit.”

“Except you totally do write this pop shit, just with a sixties façade”

“Fuck you, man!” Ross grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry - sometimes I have no filtering system! I really do apologize for making your friend leave.”

“Two things – one, he’s not my friend, and two, he had to get back to his job at Hallmark anyway. Listen, Wardo, have you ever done any writing?”

Eduardo panicked and he started to click towards the kitchen in his fancy dress shoes, Mark on his heels. “Everyone’s done some writing. Well, not everybody – illiteracy is rampant all around the world.”

“Wardo, you’re rambling.”

“I write slogans for Weight-Not, this weight reduction company my brother runs. Well, we’re not like biological brothers but who cares, right? Right.”

“Did you ever hear of the band FACEBOOK!”

“Yeah, of course, everybody’s heard of them. My brother, Chris, loves them – their ridiculous dance moves and their ridiculous hair and oh my god you’re one of them.”

“That hair was very much in style then, plus apparently it’s coming back on the runways. Anyway,”

“I’m sorry.”

“Dude, chill. Anyway, I want to you write lyrics with me.”

“But I don’t write lyrics.”

“Well, we could just kick some ideas around then. Repot the fichus.”

“I really, really can’t. I have to go babysit for my brother now – his kids, not him. He’s like thirty-three now, so that would be counterproductive, though sometimes he acts like he needs it. Thank you for the hospitality.” Eduardo shut the door behind him.

Mark opened it and jogged down the hall behind him. “Listen, you know that pop star Dustin, right?”

“Yeah, my niece loves him!”

“Well I’m writing a song for him, so if the idea seems interesting at all just call. Or if you’re in for a good laugh then I’m performing at The Hilton tonight. I’ll put you on the list.”

The elevator opened, and Eduardo stepped into it. “Well I just can’t right now – I’m so sorry. Thank you for the offer!” The elevator closed as Mark tried to think of something witty to say to get him to come back.


Eduardo loved Chris and Sean’s kids. He loved them because they made him play DDR, ran around the house, and treated him like family, even though he looked nothing like their Daddy. Uncle Eddie was just their Uncle Eddie, and he spoiled them rotten.

They also distracted him from the idiot he had made out of himself in Mark Zuckerberg’s apartment. He had Googled Mark on his ride to Chris’ apartment and well, he just felt like an idiot now. But with the kids, at least he didn’t have the guilt of hiding it from Chris.

Chris, who he had met in foster care when Chris was twelve and Eduardo was eight and who Eduardo had latched onto at first sight, making them a pair that was surprisingly fostered by an older woman from the City who then left them her weight loss business when she moved to Canada.

Their mother was a tad weird.

But Chris had always loved FACEBOOK! and the fact was, Eduardo was hiding that he had actually met one of Chris’ false idols.

fill - not just another negotiation 8/?

When Sean and Chris got home, Eduardo held down the door so Richard and Elizabeth could get into bed without getting their butts kicked by Chris.
“Eduardo, what’s wrong?” Chris hollered, and giggles came from the kids’ bedrooms as he let Chris and Sean in.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong. I was just messing with the DDR set after the kids went to bed. How was the movie?”

“It was great.” Sean answered, hanging up his coat.

“He fell asleep twenty minutes in.”

“I enjoy sleep.”

“Oh, then how was dinner?”

“That was excellent!” Sean chirped, but Chris rolled his eyes.

“Well it’s kind of hard to enjoy food when you run a weight loss center. If I get fat there goes my entire fiscal year.”

“Chris, you are nowhere near fat.” Sean said, confused.

“And you’re not about to open a branch in Boca, but thank you sweetie.” Chris pecked Sean on the cheek. Sean looked at Eduardo, and they both shrugged. Chris was slightly demented. “So, how did everything go here?”

“Great, it went great. The kids ate and went to sleep,” more giggles came from the kids’ rooms and Eduardo sighed, “they’re really bad children.”

“Okay, y’all better be quiet – I’m sending your Dad in there.”

“Oh, we’re so scared.” Elizabeth called back, and Sean chuckled.

“Sean!” Chris whispered, and Sean chuckled some more. “Then I’m coming in.”

The children went dead silent. “I’m going to go check if they’re still breathing, honey.” Chris patted Sean on the back as he headed to their respective bedrooms, and Chris scanned over Eduardo – his hair poking up in multiple places, looking beyond frazzled.

“Hey, do you want to do some stress eating? Nothing major, just some diet cheesecake.”

Eduardo couldn’t hold it in any longer, “This thing happened to me today.” Eduardo picked up the plates he had left on the table earlier. “Yeah, maybe I should just go home.”

“No, honey, tell me what happened.”

“Well I feel a little guilty about something.” He said as he took the plates into the kitchen to wash them.

“How unusual for you.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll tell you. I met that guy from that band you used to like – Mark Zuckerberg from FACEBOOK!”

“Oh my god.”

“You know I’m doing Louise’s plant service, you know her son is sick, and she does his apartment and so I was there earlier and – this was the second time – and he invited me to come watch him perform tonight.”

“SEAN I’M GOING OUT.” Chris hollered and started to strip of his clean, regular old blazer.

“Chris, where are you going?” Eduardo shouted.

Chris responded with, “oh my god, I love him I love him I love him oh my god.”

“GUYS SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!” Richard answered back.

“I wasn’t finished with my story though.” Eduardo mumbled to the plates. They understood.

“EDUARDO COME HELP ME DRESS!” Chris shouted, and Eduardo gave up on the dishes to find his brother standing right there, halfway out of his dress pants. “Are dress pants appropriate for where we’re going?”

“We’re going to the Hilton?”

Chris screamed again.


When they got there, Mark was on stage, singing one of their ballads from their later years, ‘Meaningless Kiss.’ Chris had to argue with the valet over parking prices, so Eduardo watched from the door as Mark danced across the stage in all black, women of all ages fawning over him like he was the Sultan of Sex or something.

But Eduardo had to admit, Mark looked suave, sultry, and comfortable on the stage, like he knew what he was doing. Plus, the song was catchy as hell.
Then Chris walked in, and Mark started to bait the crowd, “Girls, tell me the truth – are these pants too tight?”

The women at the front screamed no, while the men sitting down staring holes into Mark’s head all answered yes.

Chris nearly fainted. “Oh my god I’ve got to get up there.”

Eduardo grabbed Chris’ wrist. “Chris, this is people’s high school reunions. You have to chill.”

Chris still busted through the crowd to get to the front.

Eduardo watched as women – and Chris – fawned over Mark, who pulled his hip at one point and had to sit down for the rest of the song – it made Eduardo chuckle. Mark was old.

fill - not just another negotiation 9/?

After his set had finished, Chris rushed at him through the crowd, and Eduardo rolled his eyes. Chris had always been a bit young to go to concerts and though their mother didn’t mind him ogling the posters he had made her buy she did draw the line at letting him go to concerts where not good things happened, especially because she refused to listen to the bubblegum pop crap that they had listened to. Even today Chris listened to New Kids and Backstreet. He had dragged Eduardo to their tour because Sean was a rock-loving tyrant who rarely let Chris listen to it in the house on his iPod, more or less pay to see them before. It wasn’t his favorite concert but he had gone out on a date with a promising young investment banker that he had met there.

Not like that had gotten very far but still, it had been something more than his humdrum life in New York City with his only friend and his husband and their two perfect children. But from his spot next to Chris, he realized that maybe he didn’t take enough risks in his life. He listened to music, he wrote, he did all of the stuff normal people did, but he was kind of hidden from view, so that others couldn’t see him.

Maybe he should change that.


Mark was grinning from ear to ear as he stepped off the stage, blushing and batting women away from him gently, all of them shouting about how much they loved him and how awesome he had done.

He knew. He was there.

He demurred, but he caught the eye of one very familiar looking man who just winked at him and walked off. “I think I need to go talk to –"

“No, we don’t go talk to people we may have had sex with twenty years ago. That’s how we get the beat down. Do you remember Boston, two years ago?”

“Yes, Peter.” Mark chimed, and they continued their exit until they heard a voice from behind them.

“Hi.” It was Eduardo, standing next to a man of roughly the same size, but probably a little older, his face alight with happiness. Was Eduardo gay? Was this his partner?

“Oh, hello. Hello, hello. Peter, you remember Eduardo?”

“Planted in my memory.” Both Mark and Eduardo grimaced at the bad joke at the same time, but Eduardo extended his hand anyway.

“Yes, Eduardo Saverin. I just came to apologize for being so cryptic earlier.” Chris elbowed him, “Oh, excuse me. This is my brother, Chris.”

“You don’t look alike.” Mark commented, and Chris and Eduardo looked at each other. Inside, Mark was glad they weren’t fucking – Eduardo was more than just a good lyricist.

“Weird, Wardo. I always thought I was a hot Brazilian god with miles of leg and tan skin.”

“And I, too, thought I was a milkmaid with electric blue eyes.”

“Hey! Take that back.”

“Why? It’s not like it isn’t true.”

Chris remembered where they were, and in that instant, he turned back to Mark, smiled and gasped out, “Hi, sorry, we fight like this a lot. Oh my god you were so great tonight.”

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.” Chris breathed out.

“We were practically a duet, yeah?”

“Kind of, yeah. Can I get an autograph?”

“Of course, of course.”

“And a quick picture?”

“Only if you’re single.”

“Well I’ve been with the same dude for sixteen years but nothing’s set in stone, is it?” Chris handed Eduardo the camera and pushed Peter aside with his best ‘I’m so sorry’ look and stood next to Mark.

Eduardo began to take pictures unconsciously, “I really came to just thank you for your offer.”

“Offer?” Peter questioned, looking at Mark.

“While Ross the druggie was wonderful company, Eduardo came in and helped us spout some really interesting lyrics.”

“I thought he was doing plants?”

“The truth is I need a song by Friday and it is amazingly difficult to find a sane lyricist.’

“Who said I was sane? And besides, can’t you just write them yourself?”

“Not a strength of mine. Once I rhymed you and me with autopsy.”

“That works – it not awful. Like ‘figuring out you and me is like doing a love autopsy.

“See? I told you, he’s brilliant.”

“Not bad.” Peter acquiesced.

“Well, how does it end?”

fill - not just another negotiation 10/?

“I don’t know.”

“Can I see the camera?” Chris asked, and Peter took it from Eduardo and handed it to him.

“Well, alright, they could operate all day long and never figure out what went wrong?”

“Oh my god, you’re like Cole Porter in boxers.”

Eduardo smiled, full force, and Mark was knocked back a bit. It was like a piece of the sun escaping Eduardo’s mouth and smacking Mark down, but he didn’t say anything – he wanted Eduardo to stay.

“Anyway, thank you for inviting us.”

“Oh my god, yeah, we had a great time.” Eduardo started to pull on Chris’ arm, “Thank you so much, nice to meet y’all. Goodbye!”

And with that, Eduardo and Chris were hustling out the door, Mark’s eyes attached to Eduardo’s very tight, very dark jeans sashaying out of the room.

He wasn’t going to sleep well tonight, that was for sure.


The next morning, after an extra-large coffee and an intense amount of Googling, he found Weight-Not, where one Eduardo Saverin, Director of Advertising, worked. And Mark smirked and dropped his empty coffee into the trash can and entered the building, smiling at the receptionist.

“Hi, I’m here to see Eduardo Saverin?” He said with his calmest, most seductive voice.

The receptionist bobbed her head once, twice, then clicked a few buttons on the phone. “Eduardo, there’s someone here to see you.” She nodded into the phone. “Okay!” She hung up and turned back to Mark. “He’ll be out in just a few seconds.”

“So, how much do you weigh?” He tried to ask jokingly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Oh, I fluctuate!” She chirped and nodded vigorously.

Mark nodded back, and within a few seconds, he heard a surprised, “Hello”, from his left.

“Hey, I know this is probably ten levels of rude but I’ve decided I cannot and will not take no for an answer.”

“Look I told you –“

“I know, you don’t write lyrics. Except for when you’re writing for The New School’s literary magazine. You were brilliant – I read all of them.”

“Look, I’m flattered, you’re one of six people in the world that have actually read those, but that doesn’t mean I can write a song.”

“But you already have. Come on, I’ll show you..” Mark grabbed Eduardo’s hand, and though Eduardo had at least three inches and ten pounds on him, Mark dragged him out of the store and out onto the street, then down three stores until they reached a store which was filled with pianos. Mark dropped Eduardo’s hand and opened the door. “After you, this’ll be a treat, I promise.”

Gingerly Eduardo stepped in, with Mark quickly behind him.

A sales clerk came up to them, smiling at Eduardo and then Mark, “Ah, Mr. Zuckerberg, what a pleasure to see you.”

“Always, Mia. How are you?”

“Doing great.”

“Anyways, I was wondering if I could try out the new Mason and Hammond.”

“Of course.”

Mark slid fluidly into the piano closest to him and Eduardo, and his back straightened as he breathed in, then turned his eyes onto Eduardo. “Now here’s a little something you might recognize – don’t take my word for it or anything.”

Then Mark began to play – and Eduardo got why Chris had such a massive crush on Mark. He was great when he turned his attention onto you, fascinating, all encompassing. His reedy voice lifted after a few seconds of playing, “Figuring out and me is like doing a love autopsy/ they could operate all day long and never figure out what went wrong/ love autopsy, love autopsy, ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh/ what went wrong.

“God that melody’s beautiful. But I’ve never written –“

“Yeah, you’ve never written a song. I get it, and if I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I just don’t think I am. I think you may be a born lyricist. So, will you do it?”

“Of course I will. I’ve never been so flattered.”

“My father said flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Well he was right.”