That's not fair because how can Steven possibly not make a protein shake joke? Marc's fault for being so devilishly handsome and built like a brick wall and all that.
... And they are talking about this, yes. It's strange to be, but they are. Well, maybe strange isn't the right word. It's just. Sad. For both of them, but more for Marc. Steven can't help that twinge of guilt as he ducks his head down, fidgets with his hands a bit. "That nasty old bird..."
It wasn't right, doing that to Marc. He needed help, not to be encouraged into indulging all those nasty little vices, being pushed to do worse without second thought.
And Steven feels even worse for the twinge of anger he feels at that. I wrote back. He'd been a fool. An absolute fool. It doesn't matter what Marc intended to do, stringing him along, it's still just... desperately painful that his mum was a lie.
That he's-- a lie in a way.
A lie come to life, real to Marc sure, but... no therapist worth their weight would be inclined to agree with that, would they?
"She wasn't real, Marc. What I thought-- she wasn't any of that. She did terrible things to you... I hate that. I hate that I didn't get to protect you from it."
"It wasn't him. I wanted to. He just-- gave me an outlet. Made sure I didn't bust my hands laying into someone innocent." Is he defending Khonshu? Yeah, a little. He doesn't really know why. He still feels like he owes his life to him. And if Khonshu showed up tomorrow and told him he was willing to take Marc back, he's not sure he could laugh in Khonshu's face and say no without hesitation.
He'd still say no, for Steven's sake mostly. But he'd hesitate long enough for Khonshu to know that he's got Marc wrapped around his bony little finger.
"She was real to you. She was real to you and much better than the mother you would have had. I needed-- I needed you to be okay."
"Right. Without giving one bloody ounce of concern about how you were doing. He manipulated you, Marc." And he's glad he's gone and away from them, that they don't need him or his power anymore... even if he's always a bit worried about how Marc really feels about it.
Or if he'd go back the first chance he got.
"That's not how that works, is it?" He wants to tell Marc he's being selfish. He's being-- he doesn't know. He should be grateful, and he is, in a way, that Marc's protected him. But he'd have liked to protect Marc in return.
He'd have liked to not be such a bloody fool all along. "And I know now what she was, but-- never mind." They were going to have a nice night, not bicker about their mum or what choices were made.
"I would have just told him I was fine, anyway. He'd be wasting his time asking." Which somehow justifies the fact that he never asked. That he held Marc up against the light like he was some kind of bauble, studying him with a distant, scientific interest like he'd never seen goods this damaged before and wondered how he could fill those fissures and cracks to make Marc feel whole again, to lavish just enough verbal abuse the way he took it from his mother but pepper it with little praises and self-worth boosters, and leave him craving whatever positive and negative attention he could get now that there's a giant gaping hole in his life.
"I shouldn't have lied to you." But it really says a lot, the power mum still has over them, that he's flinching and uncomfortable and they're arguing over her when she's been dead for months.
"I want you to be angry with me. I want you to hit me." And it's kind of frustrating that Steven's turned out to not be that kind of man. But Marc will deal with it. "But... thanks." For being the better man, letting it go.
"Why do you keep protecting him, Marc?" Defending him. He's not worth it. He's not-- he's a dirty manipulator who used Marc and would have kept at it if he could. He'd have used everything he could against him, broke Marc down as small as he could.
He frowns, absently staring into the glass of alcohol in his hand. "Besides meaning I'd have to punch myself right now, I don't want to hit you. I don't want to be that kind of person."
He has before, but it didn't... make anything feel better. It just made his knuckles ache and made him feel ashamed that he'd let himself lose control like that, however cruel Marc was being. It hadn't solved anything in the end.
Besides, being mean wasn't the point of Steven Grant either, was it? Not that he throws that back in Marc's face.
"Can we just have a drink now and-- do what we planned? I don't want to think about Mum anymore. Not today."
Because he saved Marc's life. Gave him a purpose. Wrapped him in armour and told him he was doing something good with his life for once. He knew straightaway that something was wrong with Marc, but he accepted him anyway. Told him he was worthy of something. Promised he could protect Marc - and he did, from everything. And yes, Marc had hated doing the dirty work. But it wasn't really that much different from taking orders from a CO. And at the end of the day, if he hadn't stumbled upon that temple, if Khonshu hadn't taken pity on him, he would have been much worse off for it. It's not as simple as Steven is making it out to be.
"Yeah. Okay. Let's drink." He doesn't want to talk about that woman. Or Khonshu. He just lets Steven think he's come to his senses and won't defend Khonshu anymore and they can just drink too much and add some unintended humour into tonight's bedtime story.
He didn't do any of it out of any genuine care. There was nothing there besides seeing Marc as a useful killing machine -- and Marc deserved more than that. It breaks his heart that he doesn't see that, that he doesn't value himself more than that nasty old bird's insults. And it terrifies Steven to think he'd agree to be with Khonshu again, that he'd serve him again regardless of what Steven says.
But it won't help, bringing any of it up right now. He brings up the drink for a long pull and winces a bit as the burn settles down his throat and all the way to his belly.
"Marc, you can take this one." It's supposed to be his drink anyway, yeah? And maybe Steven would just like to-- not be here. Just for a moment. He can watch Marc enjoy his drink and stay nice and cozy up in their head while he sorts himself out, gets ready for their novel later.
... Hopefully Marc doesn't take it as permission to go through two bottles of the stuff and get them both too drunk to function.
"Alright." Never fear, Marc 'epitome of self-restraint' Spector is here. He'll just burn their throats raw with a too-big first gulp, and then try to pace himself through the rest of that one ration. He's actually quite tired after spending the day doing up the fish tank, but he won't let his guard down enough to flop down and relax.
So he will just perch on the edge of the dining table, whiskey glass in hand, watching the prawns... do this Bollywood dance around the log thing. Maybe it's part of their mating ritual.
Steven's probably quietly still there watching so he can't just start knocking multiple glasses back. He eyes the bottle and chews on his bottom lip a bit before tearing his gaze away, taking another small sip. Marc taps his fingers against the bottom of the glass, keeping his gaze downcast.
"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" Marc asks without lifting his gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. You know, apart from the dissociative identities. The PTSD. A bit depressed from time to time, sure. Why not. And the sometimes uncontrolled drinking.
Okay, you know. He's dealing with a few things. So's everyone else. But Marc's thinking back about Khonshu, in particular. Thinking if they'd made the right choice. Thinking if anyone else treated him like that. Talked to him like that. Would he still come crawling back to them? It's really hard to call it quits.
"I didn't-- always hate it. Not at first. Not all the time."
Maybe Steven doesn't want to talk right now, especially about that. Are either of them okay, really? That's... a difficult question. Marc is essentially talking to an imaginary friend come to life, dealing with... so much horror in his life. He needs help, but--
Marc doesn't seem inclined and Steven isn't sure how he'd react if he marched them right into a hospital himself. Probably not well. "I think you've had a rough time of things, Marc."
That's the most tactful answer he can think of. It works, doesn't it? Hopefully.
You know. He really doesn't see how getting help is going to solve anything. He still won't have Khonshu. Then they'll take Steven away from him. Then they'll see how violent and unworthy of saving he is without Steven and keep him sedated and bound in a straitjacket. And that's how he'll spend the rest of his life, locked up and rolling around on a padded floor choking on his own drool pissing and shitting inside his straitjacket. He won't be angry anymore, maybe. But he won't be anything. He won't feel anything, be aware of anything, won't be able to respond to anything, won't be able to control or do anything.
If that's what getting better looks like, he'd prefer staying crazy. And if all they're going to do is take Steven away from him, turning to coping mechanisms like drinking or hurting other people or hurting himself isn't going to do Marc any favours, either.
"Yeah. It wasn't." His gaze flickers elsewhere and he takes another small sip. Arguing wouldn't shut down the conversation but a half-hearted agreement (where he's actually agreeing, no less) might. Khonshu maybe wasn't good for him in the end. But he enjoyed it anyway. And he's going to have to live with that.
And this is why he doesn't want Steven to have to live with all this. It's not worth it.
"Is there... is there anything I can do, Marc?" He ventures after a moment, quiet, maybe a little hesitant. He's been-- moping all day, hiding himself off inside Marc's head because he didn't want to deal with what Mum really was, was too preoccupied being down on himself for not being real at all really. But Marc is...
Not okay.
And this day can't be easy on him, having to live with the knowledge of what's real year after year.
Maybe Steven should be focusing less on himself and more on Marc, that's all. It's easier, too. At least maybe he won't feel so useless if he can make Marc feel a little better.
"No, no. Sorry. I'm just tired." It's always Steven who has to swoop in, pick him up, get him out of a bad spot. It's really not fair on him. Scrubbing his face, Marc manages a small smile and takes another sip out of his whiskey. Look, he's pacing himself. This is what progress looks like, right?
"Fish tank's heavier than it looks," Marc points out, trying to keep their conversation light, as though he's never had to put his back into anything.
"I messed up your life quite a bit. Wanna make sure I set things right." Maybe Steven will forgive him for everything one day, but he's not holding his breath. He's not always going to try and ply Steven with nice things to try and buy his favour or anything like that, but. He just wants to make him happy. And he's willing to go a few extra miles if need be.
"We can have a long hot shower before sliding into bed? Get you relaxed." They're already warm and grounded from the drink, so a hot shower is just going to have Steven crawling under the covers and melting into bed with the book on his face.
"It's okay, Marc..." To be tired or to be upset or angry or... whatever. He doesn't want Marc to feel like he has to carry it alone, or hide it from him. He wasn't made up for that and Marc could use the support, couldn't he? He wants to be that.
"You didn't have to do so much..." With the fish tank, he means. He loves it. It was a really nice surprise, but... Marc didn't have to do that.
"We're already putting things back right, don't you think?" Putting in job applications all over the place, living a normal life away from Khonshu, even if he knows it probably drives Marc crazy. On the surface, it's everything Steven's wanted, and more... he does have company now. More than the living statue, more than just Gus II or III.
"A shower sounds brilliant." And it will keep Marc from drinking too much more -- hopefully at least. Or maybe he'll just take it to the shower.
"I wanted to." He wants to do nice things for Steven. Give nice things to Steven. The fish won't be too much more work since he already has Gus II and Gus III - and all the fish Marc got are the kind to keep the tank clean, so it might even mean less cleaning up. Otherwise he'll have to go looking for some rare books or something, and that feels so much more subjective. Not to mention, the number of weeks it would take to get something like that in.
And, you know, that's kind of Marc's hillstream loach in there now, whether or not he would admit to liking that little guy. It's just a little bit of Marc in Steven's flat. Steven's been really good about taking Marc's stuff in, even though it might have been borne out of worry that he'll go back to the storage unit and lock himself in there. But shoving those same few shirts he cycles through in their closet and finding a good hiding spot for his bag of ill-gotten gains is not the same as the loach, out in full view, hovering across the fish tank floor.
Marc does seriously think about taking the drink in. But then he relents, taking another big gulp that makes his eyes sting before setting the glass down. It would look bad - not that that kind of thought has ever crossed his mind before. But they can always come back to finish it later. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it over his shoulder carelessly, padding over to the bathroom. They pass the mirror they used to argue with each other through and straight into the shower.
He's kind of relieved they don't argue anymore. He has an unending amount of patience when it comes to Steven (and no one else), but he was getting tired of the fighting and the bickering and the trying to negotiate to get the body for a few minutes, especially when they were in danger.
That bag may stress Steven out to no end, actually, but-- it's Marc's, and he'd rather have Marc here with him than stuffing himself into a storage unit forgotten and unwanted. Because-- Steven does want him. He wants him to stay right here with him. It's been so much less lonely to come home after a day of job hunting to someone waiting on him, even if it's just the man who lives a lot in his head.
Now if Marc would just let him give back on the nice things, even if he's not so sure he'll do it as well as Marc seems to. The fish and tank and all had been really thoughtful. A better way to spend Mother's Day than off moping and hiding inside. Now all he can really do is sit back and let Marc burn their throats with alcohol and hopefully entertain him with a book soon.
Maybe hope the shower relaxes them both.
... Maybe it's a little odd to take a co-shower together, but they've been co-leading and co-existing on so much else lately that Steven tries not to fidget too much about it. Well, if he could fidget. He's not snatching back the lead or demanding it.
"Hey, Marc?" He starts after a moment. "Which book do you want to finish up tonight?"
He has a feeling Marc is going go for the action-packed science fiction -- and that's fine with Steven. Anything is fine with Steven as long as he can get Marc to perk up a bit.
Marc's been better about not shutting down and staying in there all the time. Especially when Steven has had a particularly bad or tiring day, he offers to take over, make something simple and quick at the end of the day, help take the load off. Steven seems content to wolf down anything he makes, be it his mushroom aglio olio or fried rice or pumpkin tacos and Marc... well, he's less self-conscious about his efforts when Steven's not teasing about taming and domesticating him.
"Um." He shuts the shower off even though he can hear Steven perfectly fine with the shower still running, taking his time with the soap and shampoo. Force of habit talking to people physically present, maybe. "Well you kinda left me hanging with the veteran smuggler pilot getting shot and his cybernetic eye short-circuiting in his skull. Guess we can find out if he dies."
Marc is not-so-lowkey-interested and they only just started this one and there's lots of stuff happening from the get-go. The words aren't too complicated, not much effort was put into world-building, and it doesn't go into much flowery description, focusing on the action. It had taken Steven a while to find something that was up Marc's alley, finetuning his choice of books by judging Marc's reaction after every story. He seems to gravitate towards cowboys and murder mysteries and those Tom Clancy type espionage, Cold War books. But Marc still won't let himself pick up the book on his own or enjoy reading if Steven doesn't read to him.
"Okay, that one then." Steven is-- pleased, really. Not just that Marc has finally taken an interest in a book, and he'll know what to look for him in the future, but maybe just... company. For once. Oh, Gus is wonderful, and all of the other Gus', but they're all so rubbish at conversation. His other friend had been a living statue who didn't speak back at all either, just let Steven ramble on about his day and work things out for himself.
And no one else had given him the time of day, had they? Mostly.
So it was just nice to have a friend to chat with, whatever bickering they've done in the past... even with the hurt of lies or the reality of what he is. He'd still rather have Marc than not.
And Marc seems to want him, too. "... Thanks for this, you know. Reading with me. I don't think Gus was ever all that interested. Always seemed more involved with his flakes to be honest."
... And well, thanks for a lot of things, but he doesn't want to make Marc feel awkward about things.
"Hnh. That's all goldfish do." They just eat and shit and sleep. Which, you know, one could argue that Marc does the same, but occasionally he will come roaring out if anyone so much as tries anything funny with Steven, and he has to hold himself back and let Steven try and handle his own difficult situations. Even though he's really bad at it.
"You've done all the things I wanted to do." Well technically it's all the things Khonshu wanted them to do. But he doesn't want to bring Khonshu up again. "Now it's time to do all the things you want to do." It seems much fairer as a trade as opposed to letting Steven think that Marc's just indulging him.
Turning the shower on again, Marc lingers under the hot water longer than necessary, letting the heat roll over the knots in his shoulder and back. At some point he'll have to work them all out with a tennis ball on the floor. Hopefully without Steven present or he'll be in tears from the pain.
"Isn't there anything else you'd like to do though? A lot of that was that bloody pigeon, not you." Did he want to travel? For actual fun, not because he was told to, or in some sort of danger. Maybe-- maybe Steven wouldn't be opposed to that.
"Yeah, well... I'd just like a job, that's all. Keep the old lights on at home, keep food on the table. You know?" His wants are fairly... boring, really. Not exciting. Maybe Marc will be bored before long... and he's not sure where that will leave him.
"Enjoying the shower? You're always so tense, mate..." Not that Steven is much better, really.
"Haven't really thought about it." The pigeon didn't get a warrior as he did get a soldier and he maybe thinks a soldier is better, at least at just following orders without asking for too much in return.
"It's okay, Steven. We'll find a job." It hasn't been easy and the way he got Steven fired from the museum hasn't helped at all. But every time he tries to help, Steven insists on going through the process on his own, and Marc can only... well. Be supportive without thrashing the place again. Maybe that's helping plenty, whatever that says about him.
"Yeah. Layla used to say the same thing. Then she'd squeeze my shoulders and dig her thumb in right there," and Marc's knees almost buckle from the jolt of pain that even Steven can feel all the way back in the recesses of their mind. "Would've been nice to have you on the outside when we aren't dead. You could've squeezed all these pain points out of me."
"You should. I want you to do things you like too, you know." Maybe it won't be easy, but-- this is their body and as long as it's not senseless killing and violence... well, he'd like Marc to be able to live a little bit.
"We will, one way or another!" He tries for optimism in his voice and he hopes he succeeds. But-- he looks like a very bad guy to hire right now. He'll find something, somewhere though... even if it's not doing anything he actually enjoys.
There's a surprised yelp when the pain makes its way all the way to him. Marc can imagine Steven is in their shared space up in their noggin, rubbing at his not-really-real shoulder and pouting after that. "... I miss getting to do that. Touch you, I mean."
... That came out kind of funny sounding, but it doesn't immediately dawn on him. "We'd have to get a bigger bed if I was out there though."
"Well let's get you settled in first, then we'll worry about me, huh?" That makes it easier to keep moving the goalposts. Once Steven finds a job then it'll be waiting until the job's stable. Then it'll be waiting until he's got a routine. Then it'll be tidying up the flat a bit. And hopefully by then Steven will be too upset at Marc for trying to clear out his treasured piles of junk and yell at him to leave again.
"Oh - sorry. Did you feel that?" He probably shouldnt have done that, or at least given Steven some warning. "I always miss it when it's too late, you know?" Marc mentions off the cuff once he's dried himself off enough to wrap a towel around his waist and can walk around without leaving a wet trail behind him.
"I keep thinking I should have spent more time with Layla, before everything went to shits. I..." this is awkward to admit but at least he can busy himself drying up and not risking eye contact in case Steven is in the reflection. "I mean. One more lifetime with you, could've been fun. Even if we share a small bed. Although, wouldn't you want your own bed? What if I snore or hit you in the middle of a nightmare?"
Oh, Steven is there -- studying Marc quietly, even if he's not quite looking at him. He frowns softly. "You could still spend time with Layla, you know."
Maybe she's still angry, but he thinks-- they can maybe work it out. Now that things aren't quite so crazy and they have time. She cares about Marc after all. He doesn't wan to push it too hard though, start another argument. So he just tries-- for a safer topic. Hopefully. "If we had, what would you have wanted to do? All the time in the world, just you and me."
Okay, well-- that's a good point. "I guess I'm just used to sharing a bed now... we could do separate."
They kind of have to share and maybe-- well, Steven is still a bit concerned about sleep walking and all that, even if it may be a bit silly. He's not sure Marc would like sleeping next to him all buckled in, with all the sand every night if he had a choice.
"It's not the same. You aren't the same after everything I've told you." It's some getting unplugged from the Matrix shit, things Layla cannot unknow about him and her father. Things Steven cannot unknow about his mother, the nature of his existence. And at the centre of it all, nobody wants to say it but he knows: It's all Marc Spector's fault.
"I don't know. Maybe I'd have taken you on a trip around the world. There's some really spectacular places out there. Maybe you would have taught me French and shown me some rusty spearheads or vases and statues or whatever. Crusty oil paintings in some of these museums." The rusty spearheads and Greek vases honestly sound boring. He might be able to appreciate an oil painting better.
"And I wouldn't mind, sharing a bed with you." If he can sleep in that little stretcher alone he can sleep anywhere with anyone. And just quietly, to himself, he wouldn't mind a few of Steven's soothing, light touches or combing his hair back helping put him to sleep.
"I might freeze to death though if you take the whole blanket in the middle of the night and leave me out in the cold," Marc teases as he dries the back of his neck and slips into some of Steven's clean clothes.
"Doesn't mean it can't be good still, yeah? We're good." They make a good team, don't they? Or he likes to think so. For all his anger and annoyances with Marc -- well, he still doesn't regret they're here. Together. Things wouldn't feel the same if he were gone again.
Oh. That's-- quite nice. He's not actually sure what he thought Marc would say, but that's a winner when it comes to answers. "We can still do that, me and you. I can still teach you French."
And show him things, or give little factoids, or whatever Marc would want. He's-- not sure if he's ready for a world tour yet, but they can do some things.
"I wouldn't do that!" He protests. "No more freezing for either of us. You'd just have to stay close if we're sharing."
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Mother's Day | latersgators
That's not fair because how can Steven possibly not make a protein shake joke? Marc's fault for being so devilishly handsome and built like a brick wall and all that.
... And they are talking about this, yes. It's strange to be, but they are. Well, maybe strange isn't the right word. It's just. Sad. For both of them, but more for Marc. Steven can't help that twinge of guilt as he ducks his head down, fidgets with his hands a bit. "That nasty old bird..."
It wasn't right, doing that to Marc. He needed help, not to be encouraged into indulging all those nasty little vices, being pushed to do worse without second thought.
And Steven feels even worse for the twinge of anger he feels at that. I wrote back. He'd been a fool. An absolute fool. It doesn't matter what Marc intended to do, stringing him along, it's still just... desperately painful that his mum was a lie.
That he's-- a lie in a way.
A lie come to life, real to Marc sure, but... no therapist worth their weight would be inclined to agree with that, would they?
"She wasn't real, Marc. What I thought-- she wasn't any of that. She did terrible things to you... I hate that. I hate that I didn't get to protect you from it."
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He'd still say no, for Steven's sake mostly. But he'd hesitate long enough for Khonshu to know that he's got Marc wrapped around his bony little finger.
"She was real to you. She was real to you and much better than the mother you would have had. I needed-- I needed you to be okay."
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Or if he'd go back the first chance he got.
"That's not how that works, is it?" He wants to tell Marc he's being selfish. He's being-- he doesn't know. He should be grateful, and he is, in a way, that Marc's protected him. But he'd have liked to protect Marc in return.
He'd have liked to not be such a bloody fool all along. "And I know now what she was, but-- never mind." They were going to have a nice night, not bicker about their mum or what choices were made.
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"I shouldn't have lied to you." But it really says a lot, the power mum still has over them, that he's flinching and uncomfortable and they're arguing over her when she's been dead for months.
"I want you to be angry with me. I want you to hit me." And it's kind of frustrating that Steven's turned out to not be that kind of man. But Marc will deal with it. "But... thanks." For being the better man, letting it go.
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He frowns, absently staring into the glass of alcohol in his hand. "Besides meaning I'd have to punch myself right now, I don't want to hit you. I don't want to be that kind of person."
He has before, but it didn't... make anything feel better. It just made his knuckles ache and made him feel ashamed that he'd let himself lose control like that, however cruel Marc was being. It hadn't solved anything in the end.
Besides, being mean wasn't the point of Steven Grant either, was it? Not that he throws that back in Marc's face.
"Can we just have a drink now and-- do what we planned? I don't want to think about Mum anymore. Not today."
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"Yeah. Okay. Let's drink." He doesn't want to talk about that woman. Or Khonshu. He just lets Steven think he's come to his senses and won't defend Khonshu anymore and they can just drink too much and add some unintended humour into tonight's bedtime story.
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But it won't help, bringing any of it up right now. He brings up the drink for a long pull and winces a bit as the burn settles down his throat and all the way to his belly.
"Marc, you can take this one." It's supposed to be his drink anyway, yeah? And maybe Steven would just like to-- not be here. Just for a moment. He can watch Marc enjoy his drink and stay nice and cozy up in their head while he sorts himself out, gets ready for their novel later.
... Hopefully Marc doesn't take it as permission to go through two bottles of the stuff and get them both too drunk to function.
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So he will just perch on the edge of the dining table, whiskey glass in hand, watching the prawns... do this Bollywood dance around the log thing. Maybe it's part of their mating ritual.
Steven's probably quietly still there watching so he can't just start knocking multiple glasses back. He eyes the bottle and chews on his bottom lip a bit before tearing his gaze away, taking another small sip. Marc taps his fingers against the bottom of the glass, keeping his gaze downcast.
"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" Marc asks without lifting his gaze, swallowing the lump in his throat. You know, apart from the dissociative identities. The PTSD. A bit depressed from time to time, sure. Why not. And the sometimes uncontrolled drinking.
Okay, you know. He's dealing with a few things. So's everyone else. But Marc's thinking back about Khonshu, in particular. Thinking if they'd made the right choice. Thinking if anyone else treated him like that. Talked to him like that. Would he still come crawling back to them? It's really hard to call it quits.
"I didn't-- always hate it. Not at first. Not all the time."
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Marc doesn't seem inclined and Steven isn't sure how he'd react if he marched them right into a hospital himself. Probably not well. "I think you've had a rough time of things, Marc."
That's the most tactful answer he can think of. It works, doesn't it? Hopefully.
"That doesn't mean it was good for you, Marc."
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If that's what getting better looks like, he'd prefer staying crazy. And if all they're going to do is take Steven away from him, turning to coping mechanisms like drinking or hurting other people or hurting himself isn't going to do Marc any favours, either.
"Yeah. It wasn't." His gaze flickers elsewhere and he takes another small sip. Arguing wouldn't shut down the conversation but a half-hearted agreement (where he's actually agreeing, no less) might. Khonshu maybe wasn't good for him in the end. But he enjoyed it anyway. And he's going to have to live with that.
And this is why he doesn't want Steven to have to live with all this. It's not worth it.
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Not okay.
And this day can't be easy on him, having to live with the knowledge of what's real year after year.
Maybe Steven should be focusing less on himself and more on Marc, that's all. It's easier, too. At least maybe he won't feel so useless if he can make Marc feel a little better.
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"Fish tank's heavier than it looks," Marc points out, trying to keep their conversation light, as though he's never had to put his back into anything.
"I messed up your life quite a bit. Wanna make sure I set things right." Maybe Steven will forgive him for everything one day, but he's not holding his breath. He's not always going to try and ply Steven with nice things to try and buy his favour or anything like that, but. He just wants to make him happy. And he's willing to go a few extra miles if need be.
"We can have a long hot shower before sliding into bed? Get you relaxed." They're already warm and grounded from the drink, so a hot shower is just going to have Steven crawling under the covers and melting into bed with the book on his face.
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"You didn't have to do so much..." With the fish tank, he means. He loves it. It was a really nice surprise, but... Marc didn't have to do that.
"We're already putting things back right, don't you think?" Putting in job applications all over the place, living a normal life away from Khonshu, even if he knows it probably drives Marc crazy. On the surface, it's everything Steven's wanted, and more... he does have company now. More than the living statue, more than just Gus II or III.
"A shower sounds brilliant." And it will keep Marc from drinking too much more -- hopefully at least. Or maybe he'll just take it to the shower.
"Let's go?"
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And, you know, that's kind of Marc's hillstream loach in there now, whether or not he would admit to liking that little guy. It's just a little bit of Marc in Steven's flat. Steven's been really good about taking Marc's stuff in, even though it might have been borne out of worry that he'll go back to the storage unit and lock himself in there. But shoving those same few shirts he cycles through in their closet and finding a good hiding spot for his bag of ill-gotten gains is not the same as the loach, out in full view, hovering across the fish tank floor.
Marc does seriously think about taking the drink in. But then he relents, taking another big gulp that makes his eyes sting before setting the glass down. It would look bad - not that that kind of thought has ever crossed his mind before. But they can always come back to finish it later. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it over his shoulder carelessly, padding over to the bathroom. They pass the mirror they used to argue with each other through and straight into the shower.
He's kind of relieved they don't argue anymore. He has an unending amount of patience when it comes to Steven (and no one else), but he was getting tired of the fighting and the bickering and the trying to negotiate to get the body for a few minutes, especially when they were in danger.
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Now if Marc would just let him give back on the nice things, even if he's not so sure he'll do it as well as Marc seems to. The fish and tank and all had been really thoughtful. A better way to spend Mother's Day than off moping and hiding inside. Now all he can really do is sit back and let Marc burn their throats with alcohol and hopefully entertain him with a book soon.
Maybe hope the shower relaxes them both.
... Maybe it's a little odd to take a co-shower together, but they've been co-leading and co-existing on so much else lately that Steven tries not to fidget too much about it. Well, if he could fidget. He's not snatching back the lead or demanding it.
"Hey, Marc?" He starts after a moment. "Which book do you want to finish up tonight?"
He has a feeling Marc is going go for the action-packed science fiction -- and that's fine with Steven. Anything is fine with Steven as long as he can get Marc to perk up a bit.
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"Um." He shuts the shower off even though he can hear Steven perfectly fine with the shower still running, taking his time with the soap and shampoo. Force of habit talking to people physically present, maybe. "Well you kinda left me hanging with the veteran smuggler pilot getting shot and his cybernetic eye short-circuiting in his skull. Guess we can find out if he dies."
Marc is not-so-lowkey-interested and they only just started this one and there's lots of stuff happening from the get-go. The words aren't too complicated, not much effort was put into world-building, and it doesn't go into much flowery description, focusing on the action. It had taken Steven a while to find something that was up Marc's alley, finetuning his choice of books by judging Marc's reaction after every story. He seems to gravitate towards cowboys and murder mysteries and those Tom Clancy type espionage, Cold War books. But Marc still won't let himself pick up the book on his own or enjoy reading if Steven doesn't read to him.
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And no one else had given him the time of day, had they? Mostly.
So it was just nice to have a friend to chat with, whatever bickering they've done in the past... even with the hurt of lies or the reality of what he is. He'd still rather have Marc than not.
And Marc seems to want him, too. "... Thanks for this, you know. Reading with me. I don't think Gus was ever all that interested. Always seemed more involved with his flakes to be honest."
... And well, thanks for a lot of things, but he doesn't want to make Marc feel awkward about things.
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"You've done all the things I wanted to do." Well technically it's all the things Khonshu wanted them to do. But he doesn't want to bring Khonshu up again. "Now it's time to do all the things you want to do." It seems much fairer as a trade as opposed to letting Steven think that Marc's just indulging him.
Turning the shower on again, Marc lingers under the hot water longer than necessary, letting the heat roll over the knots in his shoulder and back. At some point he'll have to work them all out with a tennis ball on the floor. Hopefully without Steven present or he'll be in tears from the pain.
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"Yeah, well... I'd just like a job, that's all. Keep the old lights on at home, keep food on the table. You know?" His wants are fairly... boring, really. Not exciting. Maybe Marc will be bored before long... and he's not sure where that will leave him.
"Enjoying the shower? You're always so tense, mate..." Not that Steven is much better, really.
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"It's okay, Steven. We'll find a job." It hasn't been easy and the way he got Steven fired from the museum hasn't helped at all. But every time he tries to help, Steven insists on going through the process on his own, and Marc can only... well. Be supportive without thrashing the place again. Maybe that's helping plenty, whatever that says about him.
"Yeah. Layla used to say the same thing. Then she'd squeeze my shoulders and dig her thumb in right there," and Marc's knees almost buckle from the jolt of pain that even Steven can feel all the way back in the recesses of their mind. "Would've been nice to have you on the outside when we aren't dead. You could've squeezed all these pain points out of me."
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"We will, one way or another!" He tries for optimism in his voice and he hopes he succeeds. But-- he looks like a very bad guy to hire right now. He'll find something, somewhere though... even if it's not doing anything he actually enjoys.
There's a surprised yelp when the pain makes its way all the way to him. Marc can imagine Steven is in their shared space up in their noggin, rubbing at his not-really-real shoulder and pouting after that. "... I miss getting to do that. Touch you, I mean."
... That came out kind of funny sounding, but it doesn't immediately dawn on him. "We'd have to get a bigger bed if I was out there though."
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"Oh - sorry. Did you feel that?" He probably shouldnt have done that, or at least given Steven some warning. "I always miss it when it's too late, you know?" Marc mentions off the cuff once he's dried himself off enough to wrap a towel around his waist and can walk around without leaving a wet trail behind him.
"I keep thinking I should have spent more time with Layla, before everything went to shits. I..." this is awkward to admit but at least he can busy himself drying up and not risking eye contact in case Steven is in the reflection. "I mean. One more lifetime with you, could've been fun. Even if we share a small bed. Although, wouldn't you want your own bed? What if I snore or hit you in the middle of a nightmare?"
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Maybe she's still angry, but he thinks-- they can maybe work it out. Now that things aren't quite so crazy and they have time. She cares about Marc after all. He doesn't wan to push it too hard though, start another argument. So he just tries-- for a safer topic. Hopefully. "If we had, what would you have wanted to do? All the time in the world, just you and me."
Okay, well-- that's a good point. "I guess I'm just used to sharing a bed now... we could do separate."
They kind of have to share and maybe-- well, Steven is still a bit concerned about sleep walking and all that, even if it may be a bit silly. He's not sure Marc would like sleeping next to him all buckled in, with all the sand every night if he had a choice.
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"I don't know. Maybe I'd have taken you on a trip around the world. There's some really spectacular places out there. Maybe you would have taught me French and shown me some rusty spearheads or vases and statues or whatever. Crusty oil paintings in some of these museums." The rusty spearheads and Greek vases honestly sound boring. He might be able to appreciate an oil painting better.
"And I wouldn't mind, sharing a bed with you." If he can sleep in that little stretcher alone he can sleep anywhere with anyone. And just quietly, to himself, he wouldn't mind a few of Steven's soothing, light touches or combing his hair back helping put him to sleep.
"I might freeze to death though if you take the whole blanket in the middle of the night and leave me out in the cold," Marc teases as he dries the back of his neck and slips into some of Steven's clean clothes.
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Oh. That's-- quite nice. He's not actually sure what he thought Marc would say, but that's a winner when it comes to answers. "We can still do that, me and you. I can still teach you French."
And show him things, or give little factoids, or whatever Marc would want. He's-- not sure if he's ready for a world tour yet, but they can do some things.
"I wouldn't do that!" He protests. "No more freezing for either of us. You'd just have to stay close if we're sharing."
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I forgot the word for pregnancy test 😮💨
lmao it's okay, I got you!! Marc probably would call it that 😤
Eloquence is not his strong suit 🤷♂️
He's going to scandalize Steven 😬
How does Steven think these things work? 🤔
Technically, he wasn't even born that way 🙄