Disclaimer: Not mine.
A loud knock on the door woke Mark Turner up from his sleep. He blinked once, and returned to his deep slumber. Another insistent series of knock drew him from his sweet sleep. With a loud frustrated shout at no one in particular, he stormed out to the living room and threw open the door, opening his mouth to tell the person who was knocking at his door at such an illegal hour in the morning where he would like to stuff the unfortunate person's head.
"Listen mate! It's five bloody o'clock in the. . . Oh hey Pete, come on in." Mark gave a rueful grin at his best friend, combing back his hair in an attempt to un-mess it. Peter walked in, obviously just finishing a business meeting. His short hair was neatly gelled in what Mark privately referred to as "nerdy Pete hair" and his tie was still knotted around the collar of his dark blue shirt.
"Late night at work, mate?" Mark asked, walking to the adjourning kitchen to make a cup of instant coffee for his friend. Peter shook his head, nodded, before shaking his head again.
"Marcus, you're my best friend. You're like my priest! I tell you everything, don't I?"
"Sometimes a little too much," Mark quipped, his face filled with amusement. "Get to the point Peter, what's up?" He stirred the coffee, watching as the powder dissolved into the hot water. He took the hot drink and walked out.
"Right, of course, to the point," Peter repeated. "Simply put, I just had sex with a woman. Another woman," he clarified. "And I think I might love her." The cup Mark was holding fell to the floor, scalding his fingers in the process.
"Shit," Mark cursed violently. Peter stood up, his eyes wild.
"Don't tell Juliet, Mark. Please. I mean, that's the reason why I went to you. The guilt is bloody eating me up. I'm a wank, I know." Mark looked up and glared at his best friend in anger. Ignoring the mess on the floor, he grabbed his best friend by the collar.
"Damn it Pete! You're worse than a wank, you bloody. . . wank!" Mark ended, slightly put off by his not-so-emphatic statement. "You've been married, what? Three months, and already you're sleeping with some bitch?!"
"She's not some bitch," Peter bit back harshly. "In fact, she's better than most of the birds you ever dated!"
Mark sneered. "I don't doubt that, but I don't think she's much better. I mean, Peter, have you ever thought about Juliet? How could ANYONE possibly, in their right mind, or even in their most insane moments cheat on her? You should be thankful she's your wife. Besides from her horrible taste in pie, she's the most wonderful woman in the world!" He stopped, red-faced, his heart beating wildly in his chest for more than one reason.
*Oh shit. Did I say too much? Stupid stupid fool. Could you BE more obvious about your love for your two-faced, lying jerk of a best friend's wife?*
Thankfully, the mention of Juliet's name seemed to stun Peter for a moment, and he didn't notice the intense statement. He shook his head, and sighed heavily, sitting down on the couch again. "You think I haven't thought about her? It pains me to be lying to Jules. But I love her, I do. And I promise myself, everyday, to break up with Helene."
"Helene? That's the other one?" Mark asked carefully, looking at his best friend. Peter nodded. "Then why haven't you?"
"Because I think I might be in love with her," Peter replied softly.
Mark gave a harsh bark. "How can you love two at one time, Peter?" Peter shrugged, his eyes filled with burden. "Pete, why did you tell me all these? If you want sympathy, it's your own fault and I'm not going to give you that so you can bloody well sod off. If you want support," Mark paused. "You, better than anyone know that I will definitely not give you that. My old man screwed around too, and that's why I've got such a fucked-up family. My mum didn't deserve it, and neither does Juliet."
"I just needed to tell someone about it. And you're the only one I can think of. You're like my brother, Mark."
Mark's hard glare softened, and shook his head tiredly. "How long?" he asked.
"A month now. She's my secretary."
Mark gave a bittersweet smile. "The cliché-ness of it all, ey mate? You screwing your secretary." Peter returned the smile with one of his own.
"So what're you going to do now, you big fat geezer?" Mark asked, keeping his tone light.
Peter shrugged again. "I just came back from Helene's place. She told me she loves me, man. I don't know, I'm just really confused right now."
"Sure you can sleep on my couch," Mark replied, walking to his bedroom. He came out a moment later with a pillow and a comforter. "Clean my floor, will you?" he asked, gesturing to the spilled coffee, a grin on his face.
"Least I can do, mate," Peter agreed, nodding his head.
"Right then, goodnight." Mark shuffled back to his room.
"Marcus," Peter called out. Mark stopped, but didn't turn. "I love you, Mark, you know that?" There was a moment's pause, and then Mark turned. This time, there was no smile. His eyes were hard as he replied.
"Don't worry, I won't tell Juliet." He turned and walked back to his bedroom, closing the door loudly.
+++
"Hey!"
Mark jumped, and nearly dropped the frame of photos he was juggling. "Christopher Columbus," he exclaimed, putting the photos down on a nearby table.
"Christopher Columbus?" Juliet asked, amused.
"My mum used to say that when I was in the room," Mark explained, stepping away from Juliet and pretending to busy himself with something else. "Got so used to it that it comes out once in a while."
"Really? I would never have guessed," Juliet quipped sarcastically. Her beautiful features worked into a frown as she surveyed Mark. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Mark replied, a little quickly.
"Peter stayed over last night, didn't he?"
At Peter's name, Mark's head shot up. "Yes, but we didn't do anything. Just slept. Not together of course. Just in the. . ." He trailed off, rubbing his head tiredly. "I'm sounding gay again, aren't I?"
"A little. Look at you, all nervous. If I didn't know better, I would think you're keeping something from me. Not going to wait until another Christmas to scare me, are you?"
Mark laughed nervously. "Keeping something from you? No, no. . ." He changed the subject abruptly, but Juliet didn't push. "So, ready to have some pictures taken?"
"Nothing of the pornography material, right?" Now it was Juliet's turn to be nervous. Mark cracked a genuine smile, his first, since he heard the news.
"I promise, you don't have to get undressed. After all, I've got to put up something clothed. I can't have another one of those bloody teenage tossers complaining to their parents. Or any of those parents going to the bobby to complain." He gave a mock-disgusted sigh. "I mean, it's art, people, ART!" He waved his hands dramatically, and they both cracked up in laughter.
As Juliet posed for the camera, grinning and teasing with every step, Mark replied with equal wit and cheer. But as they said their goodbyes and she left his gallery, Mark watched her leave, the burden so heavy that he wanted to throw it off and confess everything to Juliet. And he was tempted. After all, if the couple do break up, he could swoop in there and be her knight in shining amour (at least, that's one of his many fantasies). But he couldn't, wouldn't.
He loved Peter, and he loved Juliet much more to see her get hurt. And so quietly, like what he has been doing for so long, he added another burden to his load.
Mark Turner sighed, and closed the door to his gallery.
+++
A/N: Ok, if that sounded like it was THE END, it's not, so don't worry. =P. My computer was spoilt for awhile, but it's all right now, so I'm a-writing again! Please please please review.
A loud knock on the door woke Mark Turner up from his sleep. He blinked once, and returned to his deep slumber. Another insistent series of knock drew him from his sweet sleep. With a loud frustrated shout at no one in particular, he stormed out to the living room and threw open the door, opening his mouth to tell the person who was knocking at his door at such an illegal hour in the morning where he would like to stuff the unfortunate person's head.
"Listen mate! It's five bloody o'clock in the. . . Oh hey Pete, come on in." Mark gave a rueful grin at his best friend, combing back his hair in an attempt to un-mess it. Peter walked in, obviously just finishing a business meeting. His short hair was neatly gelled in what Mark privately referred to as "nerdy Pete hair" and his tie was still knotted around the collar of his dark blue shirt.
"Late night at work, mate?" Mark asked, walking to the adjourning kitchen to make a cup of instant coffee for his friend. Peter shook his head, nodded, before shaking his head again.
"Marcus, you're my best friend. You're like my priest! I tell you everything, don't I?"
"Sometimes a little too much," Mark quipped, his face filled with amusement. "Get to the point Peter, what's up?" He stirred the coffee, watching as the powder dissolved into the hot water. He took the hot drink and walked out.
"Right, of course, to the point," Peter repeated. "Simply put, I just had sex with a woman. Another woman," he clarified. "And I think I might love her." The cup Mark was holding fell to the floor, scalding his fingers in the process.
"Shit," Mark cursed violently. Peter stood up, his eyes wild.
"Don't tell Juliet, Mark. Please. I mean, that's the reason why I went to you. The guilt is bloody eating me up. I'm a wank, I know." Mark looked up and glared at his best friend in anger. Ignoring the mess on the floor, he grabbed his best friend by the collar.
"Damn it Pete! You're worse than a wank, you bloody. . . wank!" Mark ended, slightly put off by his not-so-emphatic statement. "You've been married, what? Three months, and already you're sleeping with some bitch?!"
"She's not some bitch," Peter bit back harshly. "In fact, she's better than most of the birds you ever dated!"
Mark sneered. "I don't doubt that, but I don't think she's much better. I mean, Peter, have you ever thought about Juliet? How could ANYONE possibly, in their right mind, or even in their most insane moments cheat on her? You should be thankful she's your wife. Besides from her horrible taste in pie, she's the most wonderful woman in the world!" He stopped, red-faced, his heart beating wildly in his chest for more than one reason.
*Oh shit. Did I say too much? Stupid stupid fool. Could you BE more obvious about your love for your two-faced, lying jerk of a best friend's wife?*
Thankfully, the mention of Juliet's name seemed to stun Peter for a moment, and he didn't notice the intense statement. He shook his head, and sighed heavily, sitting down on the couch again. "You think I haven't thought about her? It pains me to be lying to Jules. But I love her, I do. And I promise myself, everyday, to break up with Helene."
"Helene? That's the other one?" Mark asked carefully, looking at his best friend. Peter nodded. "Then why haven't you?"
"Because I think I might be in love with her," Peter replied softly.
Mark gave a harsh bark. "How can you love two at one time, Peter?" Peter shrugged, his eyes filled with burden. "Pete, why did you tell me all these? If you want sympathy, it's your own fault and I'm not going to give you that so you can bloody well sod off. If you want support," Mark paused. "You, better than anyone know that I will definitely not give you that. My old man screwed around too, and that's why I've got such a fucked-up family. My mum didn't deserve it, and neither does Juliet."
"I just needed to tell someone about it. And you're the only one I can think of. You're like my brother, Mark."
Mark's hard glare softened, and shook his head tiredly. "How long?" he asked.
"A month now. She's my secretary."
Mark gave a bittersweet smile. "The cliché-ness of it all, ey mate? You screwing your secretary." Peter returned the smile with one of his own.
"So what're you going to do now, you big fat geezer?" Mark asked, keeping his tone light.
Peter shrugged again. "I just came back from Helene's place. She told me she loves me, man. I don't know, I'm just really confused right now."
"Sure you can sleep on my couch," Mark replied, walking to his bedroom. He came out a moment later with a pillow and a comforter. "Clean my floor, will you?" he asked, gesturing to the spilled coffee, a grin on his face.
"Least I can do, mate," Peter agreed, nodding his head.
"Right then, goodnight." Mark shuffled back to his room.
"Marcus," Peter called out. Mark stopped, but didn't turn. "I love you, Mark, you know that?" There was a moment's pause, and then Mark turned. This time, there was no smile. His eyes were hard as he replied.
"Don't worry, I won't tell Juliet." He turned and walked back to his bedroom, closing the door loudly.
+++
"Hey!"
Mark jumped, and nearly dropped the frame of photos he was juggling. "Christopher Columbus," he exclaimed, putting the photos down on a nearby table.
"Christopher Columbus?" Juliet asked, amused.
"My mum used to say that when I was in the room," Mark explained, stepping away from Juliet and pretending to busy himself with something else. "Got so used to it that it comes out once in a while."
"Really? I would never have guessed," Juliet quipped sarcastically. Her beautiful features worked into a frown as she surveyed Mark. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Mark replied, a little quickly.
"Peter stayed over last night, didn't he?"
At Peter's name, Mark's head shot up. "Yes, but we didn't do anything. Just slept. Not together of course. Just in the. . ." He trailed off, rubbing his head tiredly. "I'm sounding gay again, aren't I?"
"A little. Look at you, all nervous. If I didn't know better, I would think you're keeping something from me. Not going to wait until another Christmas to scare me, are you?"
Mark laughed nervously. "Keeping something from you? No, no. . ." He changed the subject abruptly, but Juliet didn't push. "So, ready to have some pictures taken?"
"Nothing of the pornography material, right?" Now it was Juliet's turn to be nervous. Mark cracked a genuine smile, his first, since he heard the news.
"I promise, you don't have to get undressed. After all, I've got to put up something clothed. I can't have another one of those bloody teenage tossers complaining to their parents. Or any of those parents going to the bobby to complain." He gave a mock-disgusted sigh. "I mean, it's art, people, ART!" He waved his hands dramatically, and they both cracked up in laughter.
As Juliet posed for the camera, grinning and teasing with every step, Mark replied with equal wit and cheer. But as they said their goodbyes and she left his gallery, Mark watched her leave, the burden so heavy that he wanted to throw it off and confess everything to Juliet. And he was tempted. After all, if the couple do break up, he could swoop in there and be her knight in shining amour (at least, that's one of his many fantasies). But he couldn't, wouldn't.
He loved Peter, and he loved Juliet much more to see her get hurt. And so quietly, like what he has been doing for so long, he added another burden to his load.
Mark Turner sighed, and closed the door to his gallery.
+++
A/N: Ok, if that sounded like it was THE END, it's not, so don't worry. =P. My computer was spoilt for awhile, but it's all right now, so I'm a-writing again! Please please please review.