Work Text:
Eduardo is going over some advertising contracts when, through his open door, he hears Monica’s assistant tell Mark she needs to meet with him. Monica usually gets her assistant to call, so if she’s sent her up to their floor then it must be important. He drops his papers into a stack and goes over to Mark’s office beside his. Holly is nervously hovering by Mark’s door and Eduardo nods, relieves her of duty. She smiles gratefully before going off, knowing that if anyone could get him to Monica’s office, it’s him.
Eduardo leans on the doorframe, waits a beat, can tell Mark isn’t really going over the code on the screen in front of him and that in itself has something odd settling in Eduardo. “Do you know what she wants?”
“I’m not sure, but I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
Mark closes his laptop, steeling himself. “Let’s just go.”
And to say Eduardo is nervous is a gross understatement. There’s a downward tug on Mark’s lips and he looks pained, almost, as they head to the elevator. He’s tying and untying knots in the string of his hoodie and he doesn’t stop until they’re sitting at Monica’s desk and she’s saying, “I just spoke to your immigration lawyer. Your Visa application has been denied.” A pause. “And you are being deported.”
Mark’s kneading his thigh now, expression torn between indignation and embarrassment. Eduardo is at the edge of his seat. “How is that possible?” He turns almost completely to face Mark.
“I forgot.”
“What do you mean? You told me everything was fine, that you turned it in.”
Mark’s got a rigid grip on his knee and his eyes are boring into the floor. “I did- it was. But I was late. We’d had those server problems that week and I just forgot. I wasn’t even that late but-” he waves a hand and huffs.
Eduardo understands. He feels guilt ebb slowly into his anxiety; he should’ve been more on top of something so important.
He turns back to Monica, and he’s trying not to let his emotions bubble up past his stomach. “Deported, though? That’s a bit extreme. I mean, he’s Canadian.”
She looks sympathetic and she rights herself in her seat. “I know, but the law is the law. He’s going to have to leave for at least a year and reapply.”
“A year?” Mark echos, voice hard and vulnerable all at once.
It’s ridiculous. Mark can’t run an American company if he’s in Canada. He’d have to hand the reigns over to someone else for a year, at least. He looks over at Mark, the angry set of his jaw, the way he’s paled over by the reality of his situation and makes a decision—a quick, last-ditch effort.
“Well, that’s fine.” He reaches over, settling his hand over the one Mark is still using to grip his leg. “Because we’re engaged.”
Eduardo glances at Mark briefly, squeezes his hand, cold underneath his own, willing him to close the small gap his lips have formed. Monica quirks an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Engaged to…?” she asks, but she knows there’s only one way those particular words can be interpreted in this conversation.
“To be married.”