"The End of a Business Relationship"

When you asked for iPhone fic, chococrack21 , I'm not sure this is what you meant. But a) iPhone is young and trendy, to my mind, b) PC is chock-full of adorable and would probably be as attractive to iPhone as he is to Mac, and c) it resolves two plotbunnies that have been beating me over the head, demanding to be written. There's a fair bit of swearing, in case that affects your ability to read it at work/in front of family. I've never been very good at rating things--I'd put it just over PG, I think. XD

I think I caught all my typoes, and as much as I edit this story I don't think I'm going to be fully happy with it. Just one of those days.

So here it is, a sort of spiritual sibling to "We Could Be Heroes".


PC had never been very good with handling jealousy.

He'd always been jealous of Mac. It wasn't that he was better at PC-things than PC was. It was that he was just as good at them and also good at other things.

Aside from the frivolous musical and artistic pursuits he used in place of real work, PC had decided it wasn't his place to speculate on Mac's talents.

They had a business relationship, that was all. Of course, Mac didn't seem to see it that way. When they spent time together (there was not a force on this Earth that could make PC use the decidedly Mac-like term hanging out) and ran into one of Mac innumerable friends, he was introduced as "my friend PC". For some reason, that frustrated PC more than another introduction might have.

They were drinking coffee when the newest intruder arrived. He was small and nimble-looking, streamlined, like Mac was. There was, PC noted, a slight resemblance between Mac and this forward little device that had interrupted their conversation.

"Hello," he said, cutting off PC mid-sentence, "I'm an iPhone. You're Mac, right? We met a couple weeks ago."

"Oh, hey," Mac said, shifting over to make room in the booth for him. "How've you been? This is my friend PC. PC, iPhone. So, I hear you're getting very popular."

After that, PC got a bit lost. There they were, two Apples, talking about Apple things and making decidedly Applely gestures with their hands. It wasn't that he didn't understand. PC just didn't want to understand, so he seethed silently into his coffee cup and carved lines of code into his napkin with a fingernail until he felt better.

"What was that all about?" he asked after iPhone said his farewells and walked away with his hands stuck in his back pockets.

"Oh, we met at the last Macworld. Nice kid. Very attractive, I have to admit."

PC scoffed. "Oh come on. Aren't you two, well, related?"

"What? Oh, no. We're just...similar. You're not related to every Dell and Gateway that walks down the street, are you?"

"That's different. We're made by different companies. We just have the same education. It's different for Apples."

"Even if that was really accurate, he's a smartphone, that's totally different. It's like saying you're related to a Blackberry."

PC decided to ignore the obvious insult of comparing him to a silly little device with limited functionality and a uselessly small keyboard. "You can't honestly tell me you're planning to pursue such a new device."

"Maybe not pursue, but I'll be honest, I wouldn't mind him doing a little pursuit." He was still watching iPhone walk away. "Especially if he was wearing those jeans."

PC scoffed and muttered, "All style and no substance."

Mac grinned and swallowed a mouthful of coffee. He drank his light and sickeningly sweet. PC didn't approve of that. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'm sure it's fine to chase after pretty young things when you haven't got any real responsibilities. But someday you'll doubtlessly learn the value of a system with more than just flashy graphics."

"What are you talking about? I'm sure iPhone's very capable. And he's compatible with nearly everything." Mac dumped another packet of sugar into his cup and added the empty paper to the pile. "And anyway, it's not like I'm chasing him down to jump his bones. I just happen to have a very...keen appreciation for attractive appliances. And even you have to agree he qualifies there."

PC said nothing, just frowned as he finished the last swallow of coffee in his cup. "I've got to get back to work."

"Okay. Hey, do you have any plans for tonight? I'm pretty excited about that movie you wanted me to see." He snapped his fingers and rolled his eyes slightly, searching for the title.

"A Time to Kill?"

"Yeah, that one. I looked it up on IMDB and watched the trailer on YouTube. Looks pretty cool."

What in the world is IMDB? PC wondered, but decided to just pretend he knew. It wouldn't do to embarrass himself in front of Mac. They were rivals, right? Even if they did work together. No reason to make him think less of poor, antiquated PC. "We'll see," he said, turning to leave and dropping some cash on the table--exactly enough to cover his coffee, plus tax and his half of the fifteen percent tip.

He was still unaccountably frustrated when he got back to the office.
____

PC sat in his home office and glared at the away message. It was so typically, frustratingly Mac.

out chillin w/ iphone. leave one :)

Ignoring the obvious syntactical errors, it seemed like he'd entirely forgotten their half-made plans for the evening. Not that he particularly liked watching movies with Mac--he laughed far too loudly at the jokes, and smiled too charmingly when PC didn't understand his odd selections. He sang along with the musicals and talked to the characters like they could hear him, and was entirely too patient when PC explained legal concepts and tax laws when they related to the film. And when they sat on his sleek white couch--PC had not yet let Mac invade his home on these movie nights--he drifted slowly closer, starting out on the opposite end and fidgeting over as the film progressed, to the point where PC had wondered if the credits would roll on Thank You For Smoking before Mac ended up sitting in his lap. That was pretty uncomfortable in itself, especially considering the cheerful, uncomplicated way he touched PC, with no regard for personal space at all.

But it was the principle of the thing. He'd made the offer, but hadn't even bothered to follow up before making other plans. What if he'd been sitting here waiting for a call? (Not that he was--PC had better and more important things to do than sit around hoping Mac would make time for him.) What if he'd cancelled something very important thinking they had plans? (Not that Mac would ever, ever come before an important conference call or meeting.)

He briefly considered leaving a message. But that would be stupid. It would seem desperate. Instead he turned back to the very important Powerpoint presentation he was working on and closed his chat program. Just as well to not be bothered until he was done with this.
____

PC didn't see Mac much for the next few days. He was much more productive then he'd been in a while, propelled on sheer, unacknowledged rage.

They ran into each other one day at lunch--PC was proofreading a proposal when Mac strolled over, all casual friendliness, like he hadn't been ignoring PC for days.

"Hey," he said, sitting across from him and pulling some lettuce out of PC's salad as though he'd been invited. "Haven't seen much of you for the past few days."

"I imagine we've both been very busy."

"Yeah, I've been out a lot. iPhone's a lot of fun. You should hang out with him sometime." Mac helped himself to a carrot. "He's asked after you a couple of times."

"Really." PC hoped he sounded like he couldn't be less interested in what iPhone asked Mac while they 'hung out'. Because he couldn't. Even if he was involved.

"Yeah. So what have you been up to?" Mac craned his head across the table to have a look at the paper. "Wow. That looks...complex."

"It makes perfect sense to a businessman. Was there something you wanted?"

Mac shrugged and ate a sliver of radish. They way he just insinuated himself into things was really getting on PC's nerves. Much more than it had since they'd started spending time together outside of work. "Got any plans tonight?"

"Why? So you can cancel them again without adequate warning?"

"What?"

"Nothing." PC sat back. "Anyway, I have work to do."

"Oh. Well, hey, let me know when you don't. I still want to see that movie, you know."

"So download it," PC said.

"Oh, that's no fun," Mac said, waving his hand dismissively. "Watching lawyer movies without you is never as interesting. There's no one to explain what an abacus curay brief is. Or whatever."

"Well, I'm very busy," PC snapped, "so you'll just have to wait!"

Mac raised his eyebrows and stared at him. "Fine. Didn't mean to impose," he muttered. He stood up. "Sorry I bothered you, man," he said, and then, hesitating for just a moment, he walked away.

Didn't mean to impose. What nonsense. It should have been a very satisfying argument, mostly because he seemed to have finally won one. But he felt angrier than ever.
____

This time the away message read watching lawyer movies by myself. come over if you wanna. That was simultaneously satisfying and frustrating. At least he hadn't invited iPhone over to watch them with him. Then again, what help could that little snot offer? He probably didn't know what an amicus curiae brief was either.

There was a knock at the door. He decided to ignore it. Probably Mac, coming over to apologize. No, Mac never apologized for anything he did. Mac would come over, smile sheepishly, and flop into a chair as though nothing had happened, assuming you would forgive him because he was so charming.

The knock came again, a bit more insistent. "Are you there?"

Sounded a bit like Mac. But not quite. Oh, wonderful. They've invaded my job and now they've invaded my home. He threw down his pen and pulled off his glasses, polishing them as he strode angrily toward the door. It would probably take about five minutes to tell the kid off, three more to repel him successfully, and then about thirty seconds to get back to his chair. Back to work in under ten minutes. That was pleasing, at least.

He jerked open the door. "What?"

iPhone had raised his hand to knock again. "Oh. Uh, hello. I was starting to wonder if I'd got the wrong house. That would've been embarrassing, huh?" he laughed.

He was, PC noted, very much like a younger version of Mac. Probably around twenty, only recently allowed out and about in the world, and still very impertinent, in the childlike way of one who was used to having his questions answered promptly and his mannerisms left unchecked. PC never thought he'd meet anyone more impolite than Mac, but he was learning fast, just from looking at iPhone up close, that he had been woefully mistaken.

"Can I help you with something?"

"I sincerely hope so," iPhone said. "Mind if I come in?"

Very much so. But PC still stood aside to let him in. He wasn't sure why.

"What do you want?" PC asked finally, after they had watched each other for a few seconds. "And how did you find my address?"

"You're in Mac's Address Book."

"How did you see his files?"

iPhone shrugged. "A bit of light interfacing," he said, with a pleased smile. "He's got great networking skills. But you two are pretty close, so you probably knew that."

PC crossed his arms over his chest. He had absolutely no improper knowledge of Mac's networking capabilities, because they had a business relationship and PC had a sense of propriety. But there was no way he was jealous of this kid. Not for that, anyway. He had no intention of networking with Mac at all.

"Anyway, I got your address and figured you'd be home tonight. It's a weeknight, and you were probably finishing up something terribly important and businesslike. Mac told me that you're very keen about your work."

"You still haven't told me what you're doing at my house."

He shrugged. "Just came over to see how you were getting along without Mac's attentions."

"I get along just fine, thank you, with or without Mac's 'attention', as you say."

"Really. So you're not jealous at all that he's passing his time with a cute little handheld with great compatibility and fantastic design?" iPhone crossed his arms, mirroring PC's posture as he crossed the distance between them.

"No. I'm not."

iPhone uncrossed his arms and watched PC for a moment, half smiling. He was standing extremely close; like Mac, he didn't seem to comprehend the idea of personal space. "I'm sure he would be," he whispered. "I can tell that he's quite the jealous type."

"Even if there was any reason to be jealous," PC muttered, "there's no reason why Mac would care who I dallied with." But his heart was fluttering. Oh, if only Mac would care. If only. He censored that thought quickly.

"Really? Then how come every single time I bring up how cute you look, with your glasses and suits and fussy hair he changes the subject?" He laughed. "You must really be blind."

"Perhaps you ought to go." PC was trying to sound firm, like that wasn't a request and was entirely non-negotiable, but his voice cracked on the word go and he cleared his throat. Mac was right about one thing, certainly--this was an attractive device, and he was currently standing very, very close.

He probably didn't mean anything by it, PC tried to remind himself through his frustration. He's not used to someone refusing his charms. Most people are overwhelmed by how damn pretty he looks.

"You need to leave," he repeated, a bit more firmly, as he would speak to a stubborn child protesting his bedtime.

iPhone tilted his head as though considering this. Apparently reaching a decision, he leaned over and kissed PC.

It was relatively chaste; his mouth was closed and his arms were thrown around PC's shoulders.

After a moment he pulled back just a bit, staying close. He opened his eyes slowly and smiled.

PC stared at him. That hadn't quite been what he was expecting at all. His lips had been very soft, his hands gentle and not at all insistent. He did seem to be very, very...compatible. User-friendly. Like he'd sized PC up and decided what he thought he would want.

It was, PC's treacherous mind whispered, sort of how you thought kissing Mac might be.

"Please leave my home," he said, shrugging iPhone's hands off and stepping aside.

"What's wrong?"

"You can't work that out?" PC glared at him through his glasses. "Go."

iPhone shrugged. "Fine. I'm sure Mac isn't busy tonight."

He is busy, PC thought as he locked the door. He's watching lawyer movies. By himself.
____

hey.
talked to iphone today.

PC watched the curser blink on the offending window. He knew he should have signed off before, when he saw Mac sign on. He had important things to do. Plenty of them.

Finally, he replied, Really?

yeah.
A pause. Then:

you wanna come over and takl?
*talk

No. No he didn't. He didn't want to talk to Mac about anything right now, especially pertaining to errant kisses and similar looking devices.

All right. I'll be there shortly.

Mac opened the door before PC even had a chance to knock. "Hey. I saw you pull in from the window." He stepped aside to let PC in. He looked a bit disheveled and, PC noted, he was wearing pajamas. Blue striped.

"Well?"

"Uh. So I talked to iPhone today," he repeated, walking toward the living room. "Look, I--I'm really sorry about that. I shouldn't have let him near those files. I mean, that was kinda stupid of me."

"Kind of?"

Mac sat down on the sofa. PC remained standing.

"Yeah. I should have known better. Especially after how he kept talking about you. I mean, he was clearly interested in you."

"What baffles me is you giving him access to any of your files. He's a new device, Mac. You don't even know if he has a firewall! A young hand-held like that, running around--you seem to think that just because you don't usually get viruses that you're immune to everything! And you let him at your personal files?"

"I didn't think about it like that," Mac snapped, raking his fingers through his messy hair.

"You never think about things like that! Sometimes I wonder if you think about things at all!"

"Why? because I'm not paranoid about every little thing that could go wrong? Because I'm not afraid to take chances?"

"Because you're always doing stupid things like that! You know, I don't even know why you're bothering to apologize. You never have before--you just do whatever you like and expect everything to work out alright! So why worry about it now?!"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" Mac roared, jumping to his feet.

"Wh-what?" This was exactly what PC wasn't expecting to happen.

"Do you think I invite you over here because I'm really that interested in lawyers and spreadsheets? Do you think I look at your pie charts for my health? The only reason I pay any attention at all is because it's so important to you! Do you think I like the fact that the only time you look pleased is when you're talking about your work? Do I seem to appreciate your open contempt for everything I do and everything I stand for?"

PC glared at him. "If you were so interested," he snarled, "then why on earth did you 'interface' with that--that--"

"I was playing hard to get! That's how it works, isn't it? You don't realize you actually want something until you can't have it! And I was hoping you'd want me!"

"What could possibly make you think something like that would work?" PC cried.

"I don't know! But so far, nothing else has! Polite interest, working with you, trying to set up a friendly network, inviting you over here--you've acted like it's nothing but a bother! I would have given up ages ago for anyone else, but you're different, and I wish I knew why, because then I could finally give up and stop losing sleep over a stupid, uncaring, obnoxious old PC with a chip on his shoulder and some serious obsessive-compulsive issues!"

"Well maybe if you didn't act so superior all the time, like some benevolent better who's doing me a favor just by being around, maybe I'd have actually noticed you'd cared!"

"What else was I supposed to do? Get on my knees and beg you to be mine? Write you a sonnet? Leave chocolates on your desk? Put it in a goddamn pie chart?!"

"No, of course not! You're too proud to actually say what you mean!"

"You want to talk about proud? When I sit close to you, you move away and give me a dirty look. When I IM you, you ignore me unless I'm asking you a question you consider important enough to answer. When I try to help you with anything you get flustered and insist you don't need it. I have to twist your arm to get you to spend time with me, and the whole time you make it so obvious that you'd rather be doing some of your very important work. You didn't even consider that I might want you, you just assumed I was making fun of you and got all defensive."

"Well when half of your job is proving that I'm not as good as you, what am I supposed to think?!"

"That I don't care about that anymore! I don't care about how I used to think, or how you did! I don't care about anything but you! And goddamn it all, that was a mistake. I can see that now."

"A mistake? What about taking chances, Mr. I'm-So-Brave?"

"I'm not a coward, but I'm also not an outright masochist! And I guess it's a good thing you didn't return my feelings, because trying to make you feel anything would be so laughably stupid I can't even comment on it!"

"Oh really? So now you know everything I think and feel? You know for a fact that I never cared, that I don't sit up some nights and wonder what you're doing? That I don't look at that stupid, stupid photo album you made when I've had a bad day? I might not be a sensitive, impulsive artist like you, Mac, but I still feel things!"

Mac seemed taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't look so surprised. I don't say everything that's on my mind, that doesn't mean I'm cold-hearted. If you were so perceptive, so aware of everything, you would have realized something."

"When have you ever even given me the slightest little hint that you were interested?"

"April the eighth, I proofread your report, even though it was a very busy week and I ended up falling behind on my own work. The following Thursday I recommended your graphic design to my superiors after you'd expressed interest in freelancing for them. May twenty-third, I talked to you on the phone for three hours, even though I had to work the next day, because you were lonely and you sounded so hopeless. June the seventh--"

"Wait, wait, wait--"

"You sound surprised! You're probably thinking, 'Gee, isn't that the sort of thing you do for a friend?' And maybe it is. I wouldn't really know, Mac, but I do know that until about ten minutes ago there is no one I would rather do a favor for, because no matter how much you may have thought I complained about it I would have done anything to make you smile at me!"

"Why didn't you just tell me, you who's always been so good at being frank about things?"

"How could I do that? You couldn't even do that! How could I suddenly tell you I adored you after I'd sworn to loathe you for the rest of our lives?"

Mac glared at him, breathing heavily. PC returned his stare, too furious at their mutual blindness to be shocked by the frankness with which he'd spoken. He wasn't even generally this honest with himself.

"Fuck this," Mac finally muttered. "Fuck you. Fuck your stubbornness and your pride and your intellect and your rudeness and your goddamn work."

"Fuck you too," PC hissed. Part of him was vaguely surprised. He didn't make a habit of using coarse language--it was unprofessional, and very immature. Right now, he didn't particularly care. "Fuck your pride, and your superiority complex, and your selfishness, and your blindness, and your immaturity. Fuck your music and your art and your 'coolness', and Fuck. You.."

There was a loud, cheerful-sounding knock on the door.

"Go away!" Mac yelled.

"New software is available for your computer!" squeaked a voice from the other side of the door, clearly not noticing the murder in Mac's tone.

"I'll take care of it later," he muttered, raking his hand through his hair again and looking away from PC.

"You should do it now while you're thinking of it. It could be important."

"I doubt it's important. Probably just something for Pages and Keynote."

"But you don't know that. There could be a security update, and that would be very important. Especially after you exposed your personal files to an unknown device."

"Oh, what do you care?!" Mac snapped.

"Have you been listening to anything that's happened since I got here?" PC took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was regretting this whole evening. What he wanted to do most was sit at home in his comfortable chair with the lights off and think all of this through. Rationally. But there was no time for that anymore.

"Yes, I have, which was what led me to believe that you didn't care at all what happens to me now."

"You baffle me, Mac. You make no sense. In all the time I've known you, you've never made a single logical decision unless it was an accident. You frustrate and annoy and bewilder me. But I don't think I'll ever not care what happens to you. Even if you're convinced it was all a mistake." He sighed slightly. That had probably been a stupid, sappy, unbelievable ridiculous thing to say. He hardly cared.

"Look, PC, I didn't really mean that. Well, I sort of did at the time, but honestly, that was just because I was upset. I'm sorry. And I really mean that. Really."

"Don't worry about it." PC looked toward the door. System Update was still knocking, and he could just imagine her bouncing on her toes, ready to announce her wares again. "You'd better take care of that. I'll go. I know how weird those big updates can be when they settle in."

"You can, uh, stay. If you want to, I mean."

He did stay. He watched him sit on the coffee table and hum to himself as the update unloaded. He watched Mac restart, chiming cheerfully and then beaming at him with only a touch of endearing shyness.

He ended up staying the night, actually. They shared Mac's bed. There were a few awkward moments, as there always are between two people who didn't normally sleep so close to someone else--Mac was clearly used to sprawling across his bed alone no matter how often he took someone home. Things seemed to be alright, though, after they figured out what to do with all of their limbs. Mac wasted no time in settling his head on PC's shoulder with a look of pure bliss.

Aside from the fact that his arm was falling asleep, PC had to admit that this was terribly pleasant.

"He doesn't mean anything by it," Mac said finally, long after PC had figured he'd gone to sleep. "He just doesn't know enough about the outside world yet. I think he was pretty sheltered there for a while. Don't be too hard on him--he's never really had a chance to interact with other devices outside of a controlled setting. Good god, to think there was once a time when I acted that stupid."

"Well, there's hope for him yet, then."

"Yeah, maybe he'll find himself a Sidekick or Blackberry and chase after him in between passive-aggressive half-arguments before finally settling down."

"Just like his older cousin." PC smiled at the ceiling.

"Look, we're not related, alright? Not at all. PCs and Blackberries, remember?"

"Except," PC said, "that Blackberries don't run a smaller version of either XP or Vista, and they don't have similar graphics capabilities or the same type of web browser. You even have a lot of the same applications, Mac."

"When were you close enough to get a look at his applications?"

"Trust me, they were pretty hard to miss."

"Anyway, end of the story is, we're not actually related. Trust me on this. I would have noticed him at the family reunions."

"Just as you say," PC said mildly. He bit his lip and looked toward the open window. "You know," he said finally, "if we try to make this 'relationship' thing work, we're probably going to kill each other."

Mac snorted laughter. "Yeah, that's true," he muttered, "but what a way to go, right?"

The next morning PC left early. Mac wrapped his arms sleepily around his shoulders and muttered that he ought to stay for a while, but he had to go home and change before work. Mac kissed his cheek before he left.

And he showed up to work with a smile, humming to himself. And he'd never been so productive.