come_sailaway | sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Entry tags:

sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Who: Marc Spector and you
When: Early June
Where: Various locations
Summary: Just trying to get his sea legs, so to speak.
Warnings: Some cursing, some references to substance abuse. Nothing major. Will update later if needed!

I. a little shopping trip

It's the restless urge to be up and doing something that has him browsing through the shop, maybe grabbing a chocolate bar, browsing through the paperbacks. He's not really one to read all that often, but-- there's Steven and maybe he's trying to decide on a book or two to bring back to their cabin and leave inconspicuously on the bed so he can begin hoarding up a new room. It won't be French poetry or books on the Gods, but... honestly. Screw the gods. He'd rather read some trash paperback about some bosomy chick and her dangerous ex-soldier solving some mystery and falling for each other or whatever any day.

When he's not staring down whatever trash novels are in this place, he's plucking up a few extra toiletries on the way out, maybe a few pain meds for any unfortunate hangovers he might acquire along the way.

He might turn a curious eye to anyone who's in there with him and ask, "Does anyone actually see how this stuff's restocked?"

Or who keeps this shit clean and dust free or whatever. Yeah, yeah, ghosts or whatever. But there's got to be more behind it, right?

II. let's hit the sauna

Self-care might come in the form of alcohol and other substances for Marc, maybe the odd brawl here or there, but here he is, trying a little bit of a healthier way at the spa. It's a good thing there aren't any massages -- he'd not be interested in them anyway. But the sauna? Oh, yeah. He can get behind that.

Really get behind it. Marc finds a time when it seems to be empty enough that he can stretch out with his towel spread out over his lap, eyes shut. Fake some of that peace and quiet he's never truly known in his head, maybe.

It's when someone comes in that he seems to go back to alert, sitting up a bit straighter and clearing his throat. "Oh-- uh. Sorry."

He'll even scoot over to give plenty of space to whoever decides to join him.

III. big pills, little pills

Somehow, Marc ends up int he infirmary. Well, not just... by chance. He's curious, just in case he ever needs to perform surprise minor surgery on himself or needs a hit of something stronger when the alcohol isn't enough to knock him out or bury the bad memories.

That doesn't mean he doesn't scowl a bit at some of the-- medieval torture devices, er, medical supplies. "What the fuck is this thing?"

Do they... do they do lobotomies around here still? Bleed people with fucking leeches, what?

But once he finds the pills, he seems to perk up a little bit. "Hey, they got some of the good stuff..."

Guess who's gonna be sleeping a little easier tonight?

IV. tauva

Maybe this isn't his type of joint, generally, but he's finding himself enjoying the atmosphere... and the whiskey doesn't hurt it either. Better than the place that keeps playing Billy Joel too, in his opinion. He might be huffing out a quiet laugh when he picks up a bottle with yet another weird date he's pretty sure is a lie. Whatever. It could have been back from the beginning of time and he's not gonna be choosy.

"Hey," he'll start if he notices someone close enough with an empty glass. "You want a refill?"

Never let it be said he can't be nice on occasion.

V. wildcard

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"I DON'T KNOW MARC, WHY DO YOU PUT ANYTHING UP ANYONE'S ARSE?" Steven asks with his outside voice. He should probably calm down a bit, the neighbours can probably hear the old couple squabbling in here. But he's so worked up and stressed out every time Marc talks about sex. He's died a virgin you know? It's not supposed to be humiliating but here they are! What more could Marc want? For Steven to admit 'That's probably why my bumhole's the safest place, innit? Nobody's ever ventured up in there!'?

Anyway, Steven is too excited about succeeding their mission to really be too bothered by his lack of. Other action. He breathes out a contented little sigh and turns around, nestling back against Marc. He's probably the most unruly little spoon Marc's ever had to deal with but at least he has his moments of calm. Picking up the blanket, he pulls it up to cover them both, shuffling forward a bit to give Marc more space on the bed.

He's still fidgeting, wringing his hands, but he's not overly anxious now. Just keeping his hands occupied, giving himself something to do.

"I don't-- expect we'll go anywhere nice." He can't really look at Marc from this angle, but that doesn't stop him from tilting his head back. Marc can see more of the side of his neck anyway even if they can't meet each other's gaze.

"But if you're right, and we'll be here a while, then maybe we can make this good thing last. I was-- quite enjoying the cuddling. Before you whipped her out."

There's a hissed Steven at the screaming about arses. That's all they need, people to be looking at them like they're in here doing weird ass stuff. And besides, he's not sure how much more screaming his head can really take.

"Probably not," he agrees, much as he wishes he could reassure Steven otherwise. They saved the world, hopefully. In an ideal world, that should get them into the Field of Reeds or somewhere nice, but this isn't an ideal world and... Marc's used to not being that lucky.

But you know what? It could be worse. He's still got Steven right here. They're not alone or separated, and Steven isn't yet screaming about how Marc needs to get out of his life. Quite the opposite really.

He slides an arm cautiously back against Steven and draws him back in against his chest -- careful to make sure Steven's ass isn't anywhere near Marc's crotch in case it makes him freak out again. "Yeah, Steven? Is that what this is... a good thing?"

The cuddling he means. He's not sure if it's-- hurting Steven, keeping him nice and dependent on Marc when he really can go out and live out whatever afterlife they've got for themselves. Marc's also too selfish to let him go. He snorts as he tucks his face in against the back of Steven's shoulder.

"Alright. I won't whip anything else out."

"I think so. I didn't-- I mean, I'd rather be here than be frozen in the Duat. It was so cold..." Steven shudders just thinking about it, and instinctively leans back against Marc, seeking warmth, and comfort. He still can't believe Marc came back for him - and that's despite the fact that the implication that Marc can never again pass through into the Field of Reeds is lost on Steven at this very moment.

"It's our-- last chance, to do anything, on board this ship," Steven murmurs quietly, swallowing hard as he starts plucking at the bedsheets, the blankets, anything to keep his hand occupied.

"I want to be bolder. More-- out there. More like you. I don't want to die not-- well. I don't want to die, but. Here we are. Since we've died I don't want to go not having experienced things, or been too scared to try." His hand drops to where Marc's is, wrapped around his waist. And he touches Marc's hand, running his fingertips over those calloused knuckles idly. Clearly they need to try everything on this boat. Explore every nook and cranny. Sign up for all the excursions. This is the last time he's ever going to-- just live a little. He's glad he got the chance to go to Egypt even though that was where his journey ended. He wants to be glad he got the chance to do other things here, too.

"Yeah..." It's not like he'd tell Steven-- willingly about that. No sense when he made his decision and he doesn't regret it. If they can't both have paradise, then... oh, well. He couldn't have enjoyed it if Steven was lost in the sand, just... nothing.

He lets Steven push back, pull him in tighter. Whatever he wants. He listens quietly to Steven speak, biting back the urge to-- apologize for getting them killed in the first place. He's not sure what he could have done, but he should have figured it out.

He really does wreck lives, doesn't he?

He turns his hand to catch Steven's, holding it loosely, thumb rubbing over the back of it. "Alright," Marc agrees.

Like he could ever say no to Steven. He's spent his whole life trying to protect him, keep him happy. He owes him-- a lot. "Any pressing experiences I can help you with in that case?"

Besides following him into the belly of every excursion, even if it gets them killed ten times over.

Steven doesn't fidget so much anymore with Marc holding his hand. It's-- a little bit intimate. But Steven can't say he doesn't like it... it brings him a lot of comfort, nestled in against Marc like this. It's tempting to just never venture out of the room again if they can just stay like this.

"Wot, are you offering to find me a date?" Steven laughs at the silliness of it. It would just be doubly sad if he needed Marc's help to get even that. "I suppose you do owe me one." After he set up the night out at the steakhouse and then whisked them away for too long.

"It's alright mate. Had enough rejections in life. Imagine being trapped on a boat with somebody you had a disastrous night with; it'd be so terribly awkward..." He clutches Marc's hand a little tighter and pulls it closer to his chest. Marc hasn't raised his voice or told Steven to stop being so clingy yet and maybe Steven's being just a little bit selfish, taking advantage of Marc's deciding to be nice enough to indulge him right now.

"I did sign up for a land excursion though. Be a bit of change of scenery from all this. It sounded like fun."

"You want a date?" Yeah, that gets a laugh out of him. Mostly to cover up the instinctive desire to discourage that or to-- feel weirdly annoyed at the idea. Steven's been his their whole lives and it's... hard to want to share, even if he absolutely should. Steven's wonderful, even under all that awkwardness. Someone'd be lucky to have him.

Marc's lucky to have him. "Why do I owe you a date?"

Yeah, sorry, buddy. He wouldn't have set up a date at a steakhouse for Steven of all people. He has no real clue about that little mishap.

"You said you wanna be more confident, so you've got to stop that," he murmurs, letting Steven have his hand, letting him guide it wherever he wants it. His hand flattens a little against his chest, just-- maybe enjoying the way he can feel Steven's heart beating, feel Steven. The novelty hasn't worn off at all. He shifts a little and lets himself nuzzle in a bit closer, breathe in soap and whatever else Steven's got on himself.

"Yeah, yeah... you're not going alone." Did Steven think for even a moment that Marc wouldn't be right there with him, no matter how bad of an idea he thinks it is?

Steven rolls his eyes although Marc probably can't see it from that angle.

"You ruined the one you set up for me..." He thought Marc wanted him to go on dates? Why would he set something up that he didn't want Steven to go to? Unless he has some sadistic desire to let Steven down and get him yelled at over the phone and nudged at by waiters...

"You know you don't have to-- I'm not saying you were, but you don't have to whore me out. I'd be perfectly happy if you'd just. Spend time with me. And not make me feel like I'm annoying you." Like right now. Now is really nice. Steven is smiling to himself as Marc holds him like a lover, like he's something precious. He's still convinced that this isn't permanent, that he'll end up going back inside Marc at some point maybe when their journey to whatever underworld this boat is taking them to is over. But for as long as he gets to do his own thing without worrying about taking anything from Marc, he's going to try and make the most of it.

"You know I wanted this for you. Out of that dirty, musty old storage unit. Into a proper room. Live a proper life. I mean this isn't my flat, but. This is better than I thought it would be." And he doesn't have to worry about finding another job. It's almost like a proper holiday.

"I didn't set you up, buddy. You must have just forgotten or something. Not-- really something I'd do." He's not sure how he'd forget something like that, but.

"Sorry I messed it up." Mostly. It-- obviously wouldn't have worked out anyway, right? Not where they've ended up.

"I'm not gonna--" whore Steven out. Steven's not anything like him in that regard, he thinks. He wants a relationship, all the romance. Aside from Layla, Marc's been... fine with one night stands and short lived flings. Hell, he hadn't even managed to maintain any sort of marriage with Layla without letting her down in the end.

"You don't annoy me, Steven." He lets out a sigh and presses himself closer, curls around Steven more until he can speak against his ear. Easier to talk with Steven faced away from him.

"I've never had a lot of good things in my life, but-- you've probably been the best. Alright? Getting to see you like this, feel you... man. I can't describe it. I want-- you to get out there and live too. And I want to be there with you-- every step of the way." As much as he can be.

"At least-- as much as you'll let me. Sure you don't want me to vanish still?"

"Mate, I wouldn't have asked someone out to a steakhouse." He'd accommodate what she wanted of course but he'd have at least gone to a place with one vegan option and let her have a pick of everything else on the menu.

"Don't go, Marc." Steven wants to turn around, show Marc how sincere he's being. But he's too comfortable curled in against Marc like this and sometimes it's hard to get so many words out of Marc, he's worried that if he so much as moves his toes, the wind will change direction and Marc will clam up again.

He clutches onto Marc's hand tighter and holds it firmly pressed against his chest. This is about as close as they can be to each other without being-- inside or whatever.

"Should've taken you out on that date instead..." Steven murmurs. "You're a nice bloke, you know." When he's not trying to push everyone away and hurt himself.

"Trust me, I wasn't out setting you up on dates, Steven. Maybe it was one of those assholes you worked with?" Playing some sort of weird, sick prank on him. He wouldn't have put it past a couple of them, he thinks.

Well-- there's no promise that he won't go silent again if Steven doesn't say anything at all. He's probably reached his quota for sentimental chats for a while. Besides, he probably should be getting up now, dragging himself into a shower.

Putting a stop to-- what they're doing right now.

But Marc's too much of an asshole to do that, isn't he? Instead he shifts himself up onto his elbow, even as he lets his other hand stay on the other's chest.

"Well, you know... guess we can arrange it now." It's meant to be a joke, mostly. He's not really a nice guy. Steven should know that... all the blood on his hands, all the mistakes he's made. It's all still there. It's always going to be there, no matter what. Steven's gonna remember that, sooner or later.

"Not like my calendar is full-up or anything."

Steven is so puzzled about the date, but what Marc said makes sense. Someone would prank him to go to a steakhouse. Multiple someones. Although they wouldn't have known he couldn't make it.

His eyebrows rise as he starts to turn over a little bit, better able to see a bit of Marc now that he's propped up.

"Yeah? Would you?" Steven rolls over a bit more. "Dinner tonight? At... 'Q'?" Whatever weird dead people timing that is. "We could-- go to that restaurant. They might serve vegetarian at least."

He's actually not sure what he expected... maybe a nervous laugh or Steven backtracking his words, but-- he seems like he's serious. Like-- he wants it. It's alright if it's-- practice or something, right?

Probably not. But Marc gives a nod of his head yes. "Yeah... alright, Steven, you're on."

He starts to shift back down, shifting slowly on to his back. "And hey, at least it's a guarantee you'll get me into bed after," he jokes.

Steven eventually rolls over, does a 180, and they're not exactly spooning anymore, with Marc lying on his back and Steven sneaking an arm around the front of his chest, sliding one leg in between Marc's. They wouldn't have had to be this close in his flat if they came back from the Duat like this somehow and Marc had to share his bed, but it's been comforting after... well. Everything.

They haven't really talked. About dying. About the things that he'd seen in the psych ward. If he could hold Marc all day and all night and all day and a few nights more, he would. He doesn't expect Marc to talk much during their dinner but at least they can sit together and he can make sure Marc is eating and Steven would be comfortable talking about anything he wants without being worried about crossing lines or looking for common ground.

"I can pull the couch out, if you feel I'm crowding you in. But I like having you close." He feels... safe, somewhat. And Marc could probably use the company. He's not sleeping well either. "I'm worried if I'm still-- doing weird things in my sleep."

One arm is folded behind Marc's head while the other moves to... slowly settle around Steven when he decides to follow him, settle around him. There's a lot they've got to talk about.

But Marc-- doesn't want to talk about the psych ward, or the dying, or... any of it. They'll have to, eventually. He's pretty sure that Steven will bring it up again, whether he wants him to or not. But maybe they can get through dinner and just-- enjoy each other's company. Just not worry for one night. He wants that for Steven at least.

"I didn't say I felt like that, did I?" He's a little worried though -- that he'll have a nightmare, Steven will end up kicked or punched or just have to hear him shout in his sleep. That could be just as true on the pull out couch though, so what's the point in it?

"I won't let you wander off, Steven... you don't need the cuff. Alright?" He shrugs. "Unless you're just into that sort of thing, I guess."

"What? No. That's not-- not me. Well I don't-- know, actually. Haven't... tried. Anything like that. Not sure if I'd like it. Seems like it might hurt. But also be a bit. Fun? Maybe?" Steven clears his throat and tries changing the subject.

"I'm not used to having anyone over, that's all. Let alone in bed. It's a little cozy and... missing a few comforts from home. But-- anyway. You were complaining it was a little cluttered anyway." And Steven... agrees to some degree. He did have a lot of stuff. Thinking about trying to get rid of some of his stuff stressed him out a bit.

This cabin is a little too sterile for him, and probably too cozy for Marc. But maybe they'll be able to find some middle ground here. Steven could maybe just borrow a corner to make himself comfortable in while leaving the rest of the place pristine and ~~lifeless~~ tidy for Marc.

Edited 2022-06-02 06:43 (UTC)

He actually lets out a short chuckle at the response, giving his shoulder a brief, firm rub. Fine-- he'll quit it. Let the guy have a break for a bit. "You'll figure it out."

One way or another. Hopefully.

"A little? Steven, your place is a fire hazard." But if he had it his way, he'd take him back there in a heart beat... even if it meant he'd not-- get to see him like this anymore, couldn't see him outside of a reflection in a mirror. If it meant Steven got to go back to his simple life? Worth it.

But that's not in the cards, so no reason dwelling on wishes that aren't likely to come true. "But you'll get this place lived in, I'm sure... however long we're here."

Guy's got a little bit of a hoarding issue and Marc had being clean and organized drilled into his head in service. It's gonna be-- maybe an issue. "... You were, uh. Pretty pissed at me back at the psych ward, you know," he finally murmurs after a moment.

Even after Steven sacrificing his himself like an idiot for Marc, he hadn't thought-- well, bedsharing was really in the picture.

"It's not! That's so rude. I have a few worldly possessions because I've lived my life, thank you very much!" Maybe he doesn't need a thousand books but he has enjoyed most of them, and he's got a system going on. He knows which shelves contain the books he hasn't read yet and which ones have all his archaeology titles and which one houses his French collection.

Anyway, it's not like he can just start collecting books here again. He'll just have to contend with frequent visits to the library, where he hasn't found any non-fiction titles just yet to satisfy his voracious appetite for learning more and more interesting things about all sorts of different topics throughout history.

"I was. I am. I'm still angry with you." It's a quiet admission, but it doesn't stop Steven from wanting to touch and play with Marc's hand, and wanting to be close to him. Steven sulks about it now just thinking about how lousy Marc made him feel.

"You lied to me. You-- did things to make me think I was crazy, question my reality. All this time I-- I thought-- Look, it doesn't ma'er what I thought. I just-- It would have been better if you were honest. If there was sand on the bed or-- torn blue tape."

"Steven, your entire flat is full of books. When was the last time you even swept, man?" How can he tolerate sand around the bed constant? Possessions are one thing! Being a hoarder is something else entirely.

But he does feel kinda bad that he doesn't have any of his books about gods or archeology or French poetry. He knows how much all that meant to him.

He lets Steven talk for right now, lets him play with his hand "... I thought you were better off if I wasn't in your life."

Maybe it was unfair. Maybe it was cruel... but wasn't he happier, not knowing about Marc? About Khonshu?

"Let's be real here, Steven. You weren't-- wrong about me messing things up for people. Ruining things. I mean, we're dead right now because of me. I just wanted to protect you from all of that."

"There's always room for more books! It's-- triangle-shaped. Corners are naturally harder to get to!" Steven defends himself. He meant to say it's a loft but hopefully Marc gets what he means.

Instead of foisting Marc's hand back at him, grumbling and putting some distance between them, Steven huffs as Marc uses everything he'd said in the heat of the moment against him and just nudges Marc's hand aside gently while he sits up, sliding his arms around his shins as he hugs his knees closer to his chest.

"That's not fair. You can't-- I didn't know. When I said those things." He can't say he didn't mean them at the time - that would be a blatant lie. But if he'd known everything, he wouldn't have said those things. They were really mean things to say to someone and Steven, despite his protestations, doesn't have a single mean bone in his body.

"I didn't need protecting. I'm-- supposed to protect you." Nevermind that Steven would have lost his shit if Marc had been honest about a few things from the get-go. They won't know now, since he never got the chance. How can he protect Marc anyway when Marc doesn't tell him anything?

He rolls his eyes, about to chide Steven for making excuses, but then he's moving.

He sighs when Steven pulls away. He doesn't chase after him though, gives him the space he wants. "I know you didn't know. Just-- makes it all more true, doesn't it?"

If Steven can see what he is without even knowing all the dirty bits of his past. And what does it say about him, when he can make Steven Grant say things like that? He isn't mean. He isn't cruel. It just means that Marc's the problem in this equation.

But that's okay. He's always known that.

He folds his now free arm over his own stomach as he watches Steven. "You've-- protected me a lot, Steven. You don't even realize."

It's just a little-- uncomfortable knowing he won't be able to check out ever now, not the way he was when they shared a body. It's unsettling that he'll have to deal with everything and not just shove it unfairly off on Steven when he needs a break. Daunting. Terrifying.

At least he's got him in other ways still. For now, anyway. "I feel safer with you than I do anybody else, Steven. It's not because you're a fighter or whatever. It's because you're just.. you."

"No, that's not how it-- d'you think I would have called mum and left her all those messages if I'd known she was such a horrible woman? It's just all a lie. And I said things I shouldn't have said because I thought you were trying to take my life away from me when I was taking yours away from you all along. I should've been there for you every time things got too hard or too painful - I should've validated everything you felt at her shiva, told you everything you should have heard all these years. Instead I just-- let you check out and-- and I was worried about getting home and feeding Gus and-- and all these things that aren't important. They aren't important, Marc. D'you understand? They're not-- They're real but they're not-- This body. This life. These-- feelings. They're all about you. You can't just--"

Oh, what's the point? It's too late now for any of that. Steven is getting worked up stressing out over a past that can't be changed. He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes, tired and upset and upset about being upset, if that's even possible. Like he doesn't want to die die like this. They should be doing happy things.

Steven feels like the shittiest split personality coping mechanism right now. Marc got the untainted, innocent, enthusiastic protector he wanted. Steven should be happy about it, knowing full well that, had he known the things about Marc that he knows now, he wouldn't have been able to be there for Marc in the capacity he is now. But it still makes him sad, and feel bloody useless.

"I know, you wanted this for me, and I want to keep you safe, but I feel responsible. For you shouldering all this, for me. D'you know how many times I sat there cooking up excuses in my head for mum's behaviour because the woman you put in my head couldn't have possibly done the kinds of things she did to you? D'you know awful that makes me feel? The drink destroyed her and-- And I look at you and your drinking and--" aaaaand Steven's crying.

"Hey-- those things were important. I know what-- Gus meant for you. Still feel shitty about that. Sorry." And now Gus II isn't going to see much of a better end. He pushes himself up slowly, reaching out to rest his hand back on Steven's back, rubbing carefully.

"Steven, you're-- real. All of this is real for you. I know how you were made, but you're real." This is stressing him out now, worry and guilt eating at him. He knew Steven wouldn't handle the truth well -- it's why he wanted to keep him away from it. He wanted him to be happy. He wanted him to be... normal and safe and alive. Hearing him like this, seeing him cry... it doesn't feel good.

He sits up a bit straighter and curls his arms around Steven, pulling him in closer again, against his chest. "You think-- I haven't been through all that? Wanting some sort of explanation that wasn't me being every thing she said I was? Something that'd mean she didn't just hate me?"

How many excuses had he come up with?

That she was mentally ill, that she was a drunk, that she was anything but a hateful horrible woman and he was more than a curse on everyone around him. If he could have been a better son, if he hadn't been so-- fucking stupid and gotten Randall killed. He still should have known. He should have known. Being a kid isn't an excuse, even if it's unfair. He fails at protecting everything he loves. His brother, Steven, Layla...

"I'm sorry," he offers after a moment, even if what he wants to do is plug his ears up and tell Steven to shut up, don't-- compare him to her, even if he knows it's not that much different. That he's not that much different. Oh, he could be a monster. He has been. He has been. Maybe worse. She'd beaten him and hated him and made sure he knew just how terrible he was every day of his life, but--

How much blood is on his hands now? He's not-- he can't ever be clean from that. Maybe they all deserved it, but fuck if it doesn't destroy a little bit of you every time you take a life and how can anyone else think otherwise? It's not easy. Maybe it would have been better, if he'd died a long time ago... if Khonshu hadn't kept making him nice and healed and ready for the next job. "I got it-- I'll get it under control, alright?"

How shitty is it that he can't even be sure that's a promise he can keep. He tucks his head in against Steven, squeezes his eyes shut as he just-- tries to breathe. Just keep breathing, even if all of this is stuff he doesn't want to touch on or acknowledge. Maybe he's just ashamed and figures Steven will realize the man who created him isn't worth all of this. He isn't worth trying to love or protect.

"You don't know-- you don't know and I didn't want you to know. I don't want you to know-- I can't just stop. I can't. If I don't drink, if I don't find something to take the edge off sometimes, man. I can't sleep. I can't-- do this. How am I supposed to live with myself, Steven?"

And now-- he's dead, but he's still here. There's no peaceful nothingness. He still exists. He'd always wanted to die because he thought it'd be a break, but no. Turns out just the same old shit. He still has to deal with himself. He gets Steven though and that's. More than he thought he'd ever get. Except now he feels sore and open and vulnerable and like he's-- really shit at doing the one thing he keeps promising to do still. He's not keeping Steven safe. "Don't cry, c'mon. Stop it."

He turns his head to press a kiss to the top of Steven's head. "I just-- I wanted to. You got all the good things and I wanted you to. I didn't want you to remember what Mom did. You're not responsible, Steven. You're-- something she couldn't take away from me. You're mine and I-- loved you. I love you."

Fuck, he's going to regret saying all of this. Just like he regrets all the shit at the psych ward. It goes against every instinct to just shut everything down, keep it all bottled up because he has no idea what'll happen if he lets it all out. This is more than he's said to anyone. to Khonshu, to Layla... "So just stop, man. Alright? Stop feeling bad for this shit. It's not your fault. You let me hide when I needed to. You don't know how much I needed to and you were there and I got to be-- happy seeing you happy, just a little bit."

Edited 2022-06-02 16:56 (UTC)

Well at least Marc won't regret not taking that shower first. Once he moves in to give Steven a hug, the floodgates open and the tears just come freely. Steven doesn't do the manly sort of reserved few tears and excuse himself to compose himself, even though his sobbing might be a little bit muffled against Marc's chest. He'll feel better once he's done but it might be at the expense of making Marc feel worse. Even though stupid gaslighting brick walls shouldn't really feel anything.

He's more tired and hopeless than he is angry, in the end. He can't save Marc from himself like this, when he's on the outside, when Marc can't retreat into himself when things get to be too much and know that Steven's got it, that he doesn't have to worry about anything else while he tries to deal. At least Marc might feel compelled to look after himself a bit if he's got Steven freeloading off of him, but right now he's got no reason for self-preservation anymore. Maybe Steven can offer a different sort of comfort and reassurance from the outside, but right now Steven is the one who's breaking and needing to be held together.

Is it a little bit weird to hear that Marc has loved him? Maybe. It didn't feel weird when he told Marc the same, but it's different, innit? Steven is very open about these things, about how he feels, about how other people make him feel. Marc wouldn't have cooked someone up who absolutely hated him. That was no escape from his reality at all. He wasn't really expecting Marc to like him back though. Even if Marc seems to be able to tolerate all the quirks that everyone else finds really annoying, and he's very patient with Steven, and he lets him have his frustrated and emotional outbursts without putting him down or walking away.

The least he can do is try to make Marc slightly less uncomfortable by turning down the waterworks display. There'll be ample opportunity to sit and cry alone in bed and feel better about everything when Marc's gone out to-- hit the bottle again or wherever he wants to go. Steven mumbles an apology but it's easily lost in the sobbing and whimpering as he tries to rub his eyes again, scooch up a little closer to Marc.

He turns so that he's leaning against Marc's chest, unruly head of hair tickling his neck as he keeps his legs tucked in close, hands wringing as he slowly processes everything Marc has said. It's usually the other way around, where he's blubbering and blabbering and Marc stays quiet. But he hates that they're arguing and fighting and he's just not able to make a breakthrough with Marc even though they're already dead. He hates that Marc's just-- giving way even though he shouldn't. Sniffling a few times, Steven wrings his hands and holds himself for a little bit, not wanting to make Marc feel even more put out.

This is why he doesn't talk. He doesn't feel better after. He just feels like-- he's just shown more of how broken he is, how messed up he is and far beyond saving, maybe. It doesn't help that this has-- all been so much. The mental ward, the Field of Reeds, this boat... Hell, even before all this. He's not sure how much more he can take without finally snapping.

He'd been ready to give up paradise to go die with Steven in the sands.

He didn't get that. Now they're on a boat that Marc doesn't trust at all and Steven's-- outside of him still. Which is great, in a way, and bad in others. It's going to be harder to protect him like this, but at least Steven gets a life of his own.

Or maybe-- maybe it'd be better if he wasn't around at all. Maybe if he'd disappeared like he'd promised.

He's not sure why Steven would be surprised that Marc loves him though. Why would his mind have come up with something he'd hate? And why would Marc have done everything he's done, right down to trying to find a one-finned fish, to protect Steven if he didn't love him? Maybe he's messed up, a lot, but... loving Steven has never been a question to him. It's just something that's been there since the day he came to Marc, became that security he'd lacked growing up.

There's a tired breath that leaves him as he loosens his arms a bit, giving Steven room to move if he wants. He does at least slip his hand up to brush through his hair, even if it's hopeless trying to tame it.

He-- doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to upset Steven more and honestly, he doesn't want to get into it. If Steven wants him to drink less, he'll-- try. Or at least do it when he's not paying attention. He just needs... some time, too. Some time to feel like he's got his feet on the ground, like he's got an idea of what they're doing with the rest of their lives.

He thinks about excusing himself to the shower, but he doesn't want to give Steven the wrong impression either. He doesn't want him to think he's trying to avoid him or that he's necessarily angry with him. Whatever conclusions Steven might jump to in that head of his. So for now, he's just quiet. He just pets through Steven's hair, half to comfort him, half because it calms his nerves a little bit too, just knowing Steven's there.

Steven is almost half asleep by the time he's calmed down considerably. Marc's gentle, light touches only serve to remind him of how nobody really touches him, how nice and comforting it feels when someone's willing to.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Steven sniffles and rubs his eyes again. They're supposed to profess their love for each other at their date, not here. Everything's done backwards, it's all wrong. Has Marc even been on a date before?

"...hope you're wearing something nice to our date," Steven points out, even though he's not got anything to wear either. Even imaginary friends have standards and expectations you know?

He's almost done using Marc as a comforter, as evidenced by how he's starting to wring his hands again, but he might need a box of tissues to get through the rest of the day. Maybe he'll find a quiet spot in the library, make himself feel better buried in a book. It's really hard being around Marc, much as they love each other.

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