A/N: This was never going to be a long story, and right now it looks like it will be 10 chapters… It feels kinda right for this type of "romantic comedy" after all… those are rarely three hours features in the movies, are they? ;) I'm currently working on chapter nine, though, so we'll see… and it might not be the last from this universe either, but more about that at a later date… ;)
As usual, thank you to my beta TheCookieMonster!
Now See Here!
Chapter 7: A Sight for Sore Eyes
Mark woke up nervous about the day, and it didn't get much better from then on. It was almost a blessing that he knew that he wouldn't run into Jake, at least. Sharing a meal with strangers, in an unknown place, meant so many possibilities of making a fool of himself, but he had to do it. This was the next step in his career and he couldn't screw it up.
He showered, shaved and made sure he dressed well in a full suit. Normally just a shirt with no tie would do, but he didn't normally meet clients like this, after all. He ran a brush though his hair, wondering if he should have gotten a haircut. Maybe something shorter, styled in a somewhat more professional way? But it would take longer getting ready if he had to be worried about his hair standing on end… with this length it at least laid down… though Lance had called it 'surfer hair' once and- Mark shook his head. No working himself into a nervous breakdown because of his hairstyle! He had a bus to catch.
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It's just a couple of clients… they won't bite… He told himself as he entered the restaurant at noon, his hand on Sue's shoulder for guidance. The woman seemed rather calm, which helped. She had done this before, Mark thought, and all he had to do was follow her lead, he told himself.
Four people had met up with them, and as introductions were made Mark recognized names and voices from people Jake had introduced him to at the kick-off party. They had started the company together and were all equal partners, although managed different sections. The fourth person, however, was someone he had preferred not to meet again; Andrew O'Connor, the head programmer.
"Your table is ready now," a voice said, and as they all prepared to follow the waitress, O'Connor spoke up.
"I just need to talk to Mark alone for a moment, we'll catch you right up," he said, and the blond found himself being led away a few steps.
"What-?" he asked.
"I needed to apologize in private. The party, I- I had a drink or two too many and I just assumed that- let's just say I screwed up royally and I'm not a complete asshole, okay? And I'm very sorry I thought you were… you know… gay."
"It's not like it's an insult," Mark snorted. "And… well, it's complicated. Let's say I'm not quite out of the closet and leave it at that, shall we?"
"Hah, I knew Jake wouldn't look like that at a straight guy," O'Connor chuckled. "So are you and him…?"
"No. Yes. No."
"Let me guess; that's very complicated too?"
"To say the least. We had an argument and he ran off to some guy…" Mark muttered.
"Really? Huh."
"You sound surprised?"
"Yes it's just that… Well, I mean we all have one night stands now and then, but Jake… he's more of a long term type… he normally tries very hard to make things work… there was this flaky reporter-guy…"
Great… Mark thought darkly to himself. So maybe I just wasn't worth it, then?
"Let's just forget that conversation at the party ever happened, shall we?" he forced himself to smile.
"Yes, lets… or I won't be able to convince you that I'm a great guy… and maybe to have a drink with me sometime?"
"I-" Mark raised his hands.
"I get it, it's too soon… but let me know if you ever feel like it, okay?"
"I will," the blond nodded, with no intention whatsoever to do so.
As the lunch progressed, however, he found O'Connor to be the one who really drove the conversation forward and actually understood what they needed to talk about. The others seemed to be hung up on numbers and sale statistics.
"Listen," Mark said in the end, interrupting a delve into the company's budget for last year. "We're here to sell you, not your numbers. Your customers are teens, right? They won't be impressed by a nice looking prognosis and ideas about going public. You need to deliver what they can connect to. A background story, perhaps? Having your own gaming company, creating your own games, that's a dream come true for so many out there… How did it start? How long have you known each other? Were you working on these kinds of things back in your old bedroom in your parent's house? What about your first games? There's nothing like the story of the little guy making it in the big scary adult world! And, a little later, you should open up more. Let them see some bloopers; laugh at yourself, let them see you enjoying yourself, having fun! That will create the true image of a dream company that they can connect to. I'm sure you have a story to tell, and we can help you tell it… but it won't be through numbers."
The whole table was quiet for a moment, and Mark was almost afraid that he had insulted them until there was a low whistle.
"Damn, you're right!" the man in charge of the finances said.
"Yeah," O'Connor added. "I remember reading about Google's head office back in school and thought that it must be the coolest company on earth."
"I'm not saying you should build a sand volleyball court in your office just yet, but yes: have your customers root for you. Become more than a provider of products to them, become a friend, someone who plays with them, who are excited about the things they are excited about. That's how you should present yourself at the conventions."
"Yes," Sue agreed. "And make sure to talk to the critics, and I don't mean the newspapers or major gaming sites now. I'm talking about the YouTube gaming channels. Those people have the real power now, they are not limited by sponsorships or what is printable; they are honest, brutally honest, and their viewers love that… but they are also just regular people, many doing this in their spare time, so court them a little. The attention might do you a world of good. That is, if you deliver what you promise."
"Well, we intend to do that," O'Connor chuckled.
"We should schedule a time to talk more in-depth about these things," Mark said. "It might be a good chance to figure out what to build on for your 'origin story' so to speak, and also make sure you know how to support it in interviews… we don't want it to seem fake, after all."
"Absolutely," one of the men agreed and Mark heard a rustle and beeping as phones and calendars were checked. "When?"
"As soon as possible. If any of you are free tomorrow…?"
"I am," O'Connor said.
"Yes, but you're the only one," one of his coworkers announced after a moment. "Still, as a programmer you will probably be more interesting to the public. And Davis."
"Great, I'm finally interesting!" Jon Davis, the head designer, exclaimed.
"Yes, yes, don't let the popularity go to your head," the other man continued with a laugh. "Besides, O'Connor dropped out of high school so his story must be Sander's dream, right?"
"Practically Hollywood right there," Mark nodded with a chuckle. "Still, we have to present something to our boss tomorrow morning, so maybe we can get the gist of your background now?"
The meeting continued for another hour. Mark heard Sue taking notes, while he just let it all sink in for now. Details wouldn't matter at this stage anyway, it was all about telling a convincing, interesting story. As they parted it was decided that O'Connor would come by the firm at ten the next day for a more in-depth interview. After that Mark and Sue returned to their office, feeling quite optimistic about the account.
They worked late that night, focusing on Mark's idea. Normally they would come up with a few different things to pitch to their project manager, or the whole team, but this felt so right that there just wasn't any other direction to take it in.
"If Langley doesn't like it, he can go sit on a cactus," Sue muttered as they finally decided to call it quits.
"Hear-hear," Mark grinned. He was well over the pre-creative anxiety threshold from yesterday and well into the 'zone'. He loved it here. He felt like he could work forever without getting tired, but he knew better than to burn himself out. He also knew that the memory card on his phone would be quite a bit fuller by the time his head hit the pillow tonight, from recording all the additional ideas he would get. The next phone he got would have to be one of the waterproof ones, because quite a few of those ideas seemed to pop up in the shower…
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"Didn't I tell you to listen, not sell them ideas?"
Mark cringed. Their project manager sounded irritated, and he had thought the pitch had gone well. They were in the man's office, having presented the idea to him, and now Mark wondered if he would still have a job when he walked out that door again.
"I'm sorry, it was my idea and… we kinda ran with it…" he said, not wanting Sue to have to take the blame for this.
"Luckily for you it's a damn good one. Exactly the way we should go. You should have kept it to yourself, though, and presented it to me before you got the clients involved."
"Yes, Sir," Mark said humbly.
"Oh dammit, you look like a chastened schoolboy," David Langley snorted and then chuckled. "You did good, kid! I bark worse than I bite, I promise. And their programmer is coming here today, is he?"
"Yes, in about an hour… I thought since we're on a deadline…?"
"No time like the present. I want your focus on this account for now, to get it up and running. What else do you have on your table? Is there anything you can hand over to someone else?"
They discussed Mark's workload for a while and then he and Sue headed back to their office. The blond felt elated.
"That went well, didn't it?" he grinned. He got no answer. "Sue?" He could hear her, taking a seat at her desk.
"Way to take all the credit, Sanders," she finally muttered.
"What? I… I didn't mean to do that! He sounded so angry, though and- wait…" Mark suddenly had a bit of an epiphany about himself as he heard the apologies flowing out of his mouth, and he got really irritated at his own attitude. "It was my idea, Lee! Yes, you contributed to it, and your knowledge of the gaming market is essential, but the idea was mine. I will take credit for it, just like I would have stood behind it if he had truly hated it… we are supposed to be a team, though, so it doesn't matter who hatched the idea that got it all rolling unless we work together to make it happen!"
His words were followed by a bout of silence once more and then a small snort.
"Fair enough, you birthed this one, it's your baby. I'm sorry. I just haven't seen Langley this excited about something for a while… I wanted my part of it to be known, too."
"It will be," Mark promised. "I won't be able to do this without you… I mean, I have no idea what these games they talk about are like…"
"I'll talk you through a few, some are pretty simple puzzle games, I think I can explain those pretty easily… We've got samples of all of them so…"
"Good, if we have time we can do it this afternoon… I have to tell my buddy that I'm playing computer games at work, though, 'cause he'll be very jealous…" Mark smirked. "Oh, what time is it?"
"Ten to ten," Sue answered before he had time to check.
"I'd better go down to the lobby, then, and meet O'Connor. We'll be in the small conference room down the hall if you need us," he let her know before he left.
It was five minutes to ten and Mark stood waiting patiently next to the reception desk. He heard people pass by, talking or just hurrying along, hoping that O'Connor would see him.
"Mark."
It was not O'Connor.
"Jake," he answered a bit nervously. He felt a twinge in his chest at just hearing the man's voice. He had been so busy since Jake had went away and nervous about other things, that he had almost, just almost, managed to forget about his hurt feelings and all the turmoil the man had created in his life.
"I didn't get to see you before I left, do you have time to-"
"I'm sorry, I'm meeting a client in a few minutes," Mark cut him off. Maybe he was being rude, but he couldn't afford to be thinking of Jake right now; he needed to focus on his job.
"Hi Sanders!" a happy-sounding voice called out at that moment. "Mr. Barlow," it added in a more sober tone.
"O'Connor." Jake's voice was equally unemotional.
"Just in time! I've reserved a room for us-"
"Sound's nice…" O'Connor cut in with a meaningful laugh.
"I- I meant a conference room…" Mark felt flustered and a little annoyed. Did he have to say something like that in front of Jake?!
"Of course you did, but damn you're cute when you're blushing. Shall we go, then?"
"Yes, I-"
"Mark," Jake spoke up, "if I come by later-?"
"I'll be busy all day," Mark told him truthfully. "And I… I don't want to talk to you at work. There's too much going on right now."
"But why are you so- oh, alright," the other man made an annoyed noise. "Some other time, then."
Mark nodded and then led the way to the elevators, his fingers trailing along the wall, feeling like he had messed up again, somehow.
"Man, you got his nuts in a firm grip," O'Connor said as the elevator doors closed.
"Wh-what?"
"He looked like a kicked puppy… what the hell did you do to that guy? Jake Barlow isn't someone who exactly grovels."
"I didn't do anything! It was him who left!" Mark snorted. He really didn't want to talk about the man, but he was curious and just had to ask. "You don't seem to like each other very much?"
"Well… he's okay… probably. I only know him through some mutual friends."
"So you didn't… umm... date? I thought maybe…?"
"No, we're both tops."
"Oh. Um… so… that's how that works?"
The other man burst out laughing. "Man, you really are half in the closet still, aren't you? You can't have been out much, at least… We all have preferences, right? Some prefer to top, some prefer to bottom and then there're those who are happy either way… I've never met anyone who was strictly top or bottom, though, but they are around too… So, like I said, we all have a type… and two tops… well, it can be hot, I've been there a few times, but it's not really ideal."
"So… if I'm a top…?" Mark said carefully.
"Are you?"
"I don't know!"
"Aw, damn, I'd give a lot to be the one who would help you to find that out…" the other man sighed longingly. "But I know, I know… it's going to be Jake."
"Why would you say that?" Mark snorted. "We're not even seeing each other and-"
"It's going to be Jake," O'Connor said like it was a done deal. "It's quite obvious from where I'm standing… you can practically smell it."
"Oh, lovely…" Mark muttered. "It's nice to have a say in things…" The idea of Jake preferring to top didn't freak him out, though. He was pretty sure it would have if he had been straight, but the thought in general felt… right… to him. Though not with Jake, obviously. Not with the man who went off to screw someone else just because they had a fight.
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After that little intermezzo, the morning turned out pretty great. Mark had figured out what he wanted to know the evening before and he recorded most of the interview so he would be able to refer back to it. He also used his BrailleNote, a nifty piece of tech he had here at the office which allowed him to do a lot of things. Anything he wrote down on it, using the small braille keyboard, he could then print on his embosser here or at home. The device could also read his notes back to him. As he was disabled, the company had received a grant for hiring him, and that helped making sure he got the extra things he needed to do his job. He had felt very self conscious about this at first, but eventually he had realized that many of his coworkers had something specially issued, be it a certain type of chair, arm rest or work-glasses. It wasn't really that much different… though his things were cooler.
"Okay, I'm starving, is there some place to eat around here?" O'Connor finally said.
"Oh, sorry, it must be close to lunch, right? We'll go get something, then." Mark smiled and stood up. "Although, if you have to leave…?"
"No, I cleared my schedule for the whole day, so I can be here for as long as you need me… and you said you were going to try some of our games this afternoon, right? I'd love to help with that!"
"That's great!" Mark had walked over to the door and held it open for the man before going through it himself. "We could really use the-"
"There you are! It's Friday! I need my lunch buddy!"
"Lance," Mark smiled as his friend threw an arm around his shoulder. "This is Andrew O'Connor, one of the clients from our new account. Mr. O'Connor, this is Lance Berg, from the finance department."
"The gaming company? Cool!" Lance said excitedly.
"You sure surround yourself with gorgeous men, Sanders," O'Connor chuckled.
For a second Mark wondered how Lance would react to that, but he should have known better than to worry.
"Ah, yes, and it's completely wasted on him, of course," his friend sighed.
"So you two are just friends, or…?" the programmer asked.
"Alas, I'm merely his knight in shining armor… I haven't been granted the gift of loving men in that way…" Lance sounded truly tortured by that fact, making Mark burst out snickering. "But if I had; yeah we would totally be doing it."
"We would?" Mark blinked, and gasped as his friend pulled him close, chest to chest, their lips almost touching.
"Yeah, baby… at least I'd throw you a pity fuck now and then."
"Pft, I wonder who that pity fuck would really be for…" Mark snorted. "But scram, I'm working."
"Well, why don't you join us, Berg?" O'Connor said.
"Absolutely. But only if you tell me how to get through level thirty two of JazzedUp."
"Sure!"
"Wait!" Mark spoke up. "Lance, you can come… But Mr. O'Connor? I want you to know that 'the views and opinions expressed by Lance Berg are personal and do not necessarily reflect the views of H2O, its affiliates, or its employees'."
"It's noted," the programmer chuckled.
"Great! That means I can say anything!" Lance exclaimed. "Your snake-rip-off game really sucks, man."
"Oh dear god…" Mark mumbled quietly.
As they were about to leave, Lance leaned in closer to Mark.
"Hey, Jake is standing over there looking our way… want to invite him along?"
"No, definitely not," the blond replied sternly.
"Okay, just asking. Cold shoulder, then," Lance agreed.
"Is this a 'if you hate him so do I'-situation?" O'Connor asked with a quiet chuckle.
"Of course it is. What else are friends for?" the brunette snorted.
"Very well, I'll join in," the programmer laughed.
Mark sighed at his company but was surprised as he felt an urge to defend the CFO. 'Hate' was just such a strong word...
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Mark spent the lunch laughing at O'Connor who was blatantly flirting with Lance, laying it on as thick as he possibly could and just having fun with it.
"Do you want to come over to my place and see my collection of nineteenth century etchings?" the programmer purred.
"Aw, damn, if it had been a gay porn collection I would have so been there!" Lance claimed. "I'm allergic to etchings, though. They make me itch."
"I can scratch that for you?" the other man offered.
"It's a deep one."
"Oh, trust me, I'll reach it."
"Guys! Could you two give it a rest already?" Mark laughed. "O'Connor is the client here, and it's good business to keep him in a good mood-"
"So?" Lance said.
"I might give you to him, to keep him happy," the blond smirked.
"I'm suddenly feeling very displeased with the company and your ideas, but with a big gesture…?" O'Connor chuckled.
"He's yours," Mark shrugged.
"Hey, you can't pimp me out to your gay friends!" Lance objected, in a very fake shocked voice.
"You're just a number crunching grunt, of course I can. You'll do what you're told." Mark sniffed.
"I like the sound of that…" O'Connor let them know. "I'm afraid I'll need a bigger gesture, though."
"Oh? What?" Mark asked, while Lance complained about getting his feelings hurt.
"Both of you."
The blond could hear the leer in the programmer's voice and knew that he was only half joking. That if they were up for it they could leave the restaurant right now, go somewhere and-
"Stop blushing, you're making me less straight," Lance told him.
"Yes, he is adorable when he does that, isn't he?" O'Connor agreed.
"Gorgeous. But hands off. I'm applying a tough screening process for prospective boyfriends from now on." Lance let him know.
"Ah… so you want to try me out first?"
"Don't start again!" Mark groaned.
"What? It's refreshing to meet a straight guy who is so completely fine with being flirted with," O'Connor told him. "Actually… suspiciously fine…"
"I swear I like boobs," Lance promised.
"I swear I can make you come in four minutes flat. Using nothing but my mouth."
"Hmmm…" Lance hummed. "I'm intrigued."
"Down, boy!" Mark snorted. "You were the first of us to kiss a girl and the first to have sex with one too. You're not going to be the first to have sex with a guy!"
"Yeah… sorry… so you and him first then?"
"Shut up and eat your food, Lance," Mark muttered.
A few minutes later his friend shot up from his chair, however.
"Crap! I have a meeting in five, I've gotta run!"
"Hear you later, then," Mark smiled. "Do you want to know what we're gonna do for the rest of the day?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Play computer games."
"I hate you so much. Bye. Bye pony-tail,"
"See you later, darling," O'Connor chuckled as the other man ran.
"Good thing we already paid…" Mark muttered. "You have a pony-tail?" he added, because it had caught his interest.
"Yes, because I'm hip and cool," the programmed deadpanned. "A hip and cool ginger who is blind as a bat without glasses or contacts… anything else you want to know? I have an amazing body, and my cock is-"
"Yes, thank you, that's quite enough," Mark chuckled. "I already know that you're Lance's height, give or take a little, and you're not overweight… in fact, I think you are on the lean side."
"Nice word for 'scrawny', but how did you know?"
"Well, overweight people tend to breathe in a certain way… I can't always tell, but we've walked together for a bit, so I was fairly certain… and when we shook hands your fingers felt long and slim as well… again, that's not always a sign of anything, but it's a clue… other clues are harder to explain… like the sounds of your footsteps and such…"
"Cool… hey, it would be interesting to build a game around clues like that! You can't see your enemies, right, but you have to choose the right weapons and stuff… I have to remember that one… and now, about your friend…one hundred percent straight?"
"I'm pretty sure, yeah."
"Damn!"
"You like him?"
"Yeah, he's a hoot. Is he the adventurous type?"
Mark laughed. "I'd say he'd try anything once, but I don't want to get your hopes up… but what you said before about preferring to top… you see Lance as a bottom, then?"
"Weeeeell… it's seldom black and white like that… actually, with Lance, I'm not sure what would happen… but sometimes that's the fun part."
"Yes, well, as long as you don't freak him out…" Mark shrugged. Lance could stand up for himself and say no when he'd had enough, after all.
"I'm not sure I'm bold enough to do what it would take to freak someone like that out," O'Connor sighed, and Mark thought he actually sounded quite smitten.
"Good luck. Now let's go and see how good a blind guy is at computer games…" the blond grinned.
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'Not so good' it turned out. Mark hadn't expected to be able to play the games, though; they weren't blind accessible after all. He had a few different types of solitaire games and such on his computer at home, but that world hadn't truly interested him before. He loved board games, however, and most of those were easy to play in the company of others. Luckily Lance had never gotten stuck in the gaming-swamp either, because if he had, they might have grown apart during school. The brunette was more excited about outdoor activities, though, which had left Mark quite bruised but at least included.
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By the end of the day Mark realized that he had completely forgotten that he was supposed to have his parents over for dinner the next day. He usually ordered his groceries from a store close to his home and they put it all together for him, but there was no time for that now. Lance found himself enrolled to help with the shopping, something he complained about as one; he wouldn't get to eat it, and two; it was Friday night. Despite that, the brunette stayed the whole evening, so at least he obviously didn't have a date.
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Everything was almost ready. The potatoes au gratin was in the oven with the small steak. Mark knew his mother had said that it didn't have to be special and that no one would say anything if he had just ordered pizza, but this was his parents coming to his place, and he always felt like he had something to prove when they did. He was slicing cucumber for the salad when the doorbell rang. He waited for the door to open, as his folks had a key, but it didn't. He had left the safety chain off, as he always did when he expected them or Lance to come over so there was no need for them to wait outside. When the doorbell rang again, however, he sighed and put the knife down carefully.
"Did you forget your key or something?" he asked as he opened the door. "You know you can just come right in!"
"Well, that's good to know... although I don't have a key," Jake answered.
To be continued…
A/N: Jake didn't go away after all it seems.. should he let him in or close the door in his face? Well, you'll find out next Saturday, same bat-time, same bat-channel.