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Let's Make A Deal

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After the wrap on this week’s episode, most of the Sharks left immediately. Something rare had occurred that night: Mark and Kevin collaborated on a deal. The production team had vacated the space, all that was left was security, along with a lockup crew outside the building. The stage lights had been shut down, the room was gently lit by backup lamps. Mark had left the room to get water, while Kevin pulled out his laptop, typing intensely to one of his assistants about a new project. When he was focused on his goal of making money, the room disappeared around him. He didn’t hear Mark return with two glasses of water. He didn’t see Mark take off his suit jacket and drape it over his chair. And he didn’t sense Mark come up behind his chair. He didn’t feel the pressure of Mark leaning his elbows against it, extremely close to his ear.

“Good deal tonight, right?”

Kevin jumped like a cat, slamming his laptop closed.

“What the fuck Mark? This is confidential information.”

“You were emailing your assistant about picking up a birthday cake for your wife.”

“It is up to me to determine what parts of my life are classified, Mark!”

Also, it was important to note that Mark hadn’t moved away. He was still inches away from Kevin’s face, leaning in curiously. Kevin could feel his presence now, and he was all too aware of the man standing behind him. He hoped Mark couldn’t see his face turn slightly pink in the lights. He turned to see Mark grinning at him, a contagious smile that he couldn’t help but enjoy. The corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly.

“I got you water. I have a feeling working out the logistics will give us a long night.”

“A long night? You should’ve gotten us wine.”

“Oh, I got that too.” Mark gestured to the front table, where two glasses of ice water sat, along with two empty glasses and a bottle of premium wine from a previous, unsuccessful, pitch. He stepped around the chair to pour a glass for Kevin, handing it to him. Kevin had put away his laptop and pulled out his notes from the pitch. He started making a list of companies to call to bring the product into their spaces. That was work for tomorrow, but the preparation started tonight.

“Are you wining and dining me here, Cuban? Is there something you want?”

That damned smile. Again.

“I’m a good business partner. You’d see that if you would work with me more often.”

“You’re a good business partner? Mark, I’m a wonderful business partner.”

Mark had sat down in the chair next to him, usually occupied by Daymond. He poured his own glass and crossed one leg over the other, leaning in close. His eyes dark yet gentle, his face and stature enticing. Kevin and his wife may be in an open relationship, but Mark Cuban? Absolutely not.

“You’re blushing, Mr. Wonderful”

Fuck. Mark had set down his wine glass, seemingly fixated on the notes Kevin had been writing about the pitch. Did he realize what the hell he was doing? The wine was already affecting him. But damn if he wasn’t competitive. He wouldn’t let Mark make the first move. Just as he was deciding how to approach the tension in the room, Mark grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in.

Damn him. Damn the way his lips felt, Damned the way he pulled back and grinned with the knowledge of his victory. Damn the way he found himself under Mark, making out on the couch in the next room. Making out. He felt twenty years younger. Damn his own face, red all over. Damn Mark’s eyes, and his hair, which Kevin was currently running his fingers through. Damn his lack of hair. Damn Mark gently cupping his cheek instead. Damn the many censored things that happened that night. Damn the way that Mark instantly realized Kevin was the little spoon, holding him with his head on his chest, despite Kevin’s insecurities the weight was a little too much for Mark. And a genuine, genuine damn when the rest of the sharks needed to come back for a chat with the producers, and found them lying on the couch, his shirt buttoned wrong, cuddling. As he tried to not melt into the floor in embarrassment, he saw Lori pass Robert a fifty out of the corner of his eye.