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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"Yeah? Don't worry. I'll put on my best." ... When he finds it, that is. It's not like he's got any more clothes here than Steven, but there's gotta be some place that has something nice, right?

... Seems a little messed up, to still be talking dates, but here they are. "You better dress to impress too, man. Just saying."

He's kind of curious what Steven would decide is impressive, honestly. Especially on board this cruise with its weird Tommy Bahama that never ends.

"Better go grab a shower first, I guess."

Mr Knight's suit is impressive. He's wary of Marc with his psycho Colonel Sanders comment though. Maybe he thinks it isn't cool. Steven will have to find something else to wear.

"Yeah. Alright." He reluctantly moves off of Marc. He suddenly feels cold, and tired. It's just all a bit much, and Marc doesn't really want to talk, and Steven feels further from Marc than he's ever been. Maybe he could never tell what Marc was thinking while he was inside him, but it was easier to force things out of him before. Now he'll have to figure out some new tactics. He doubts anything would be as effective as before.

He shifts to his side of the bed, pulling the covers up into his lap, putting on a brave face even though he knows that as soon as Marc steps into the shower he will just burst into tears again. At least he thinks he'll get most of the upset out in time to still have a sombre, cute little dinner.

He's not expecting Mr. Knight showing up t a dinner date, even if he might not have hated it as much as he acted. He's not even sure he knows what to expect on this ship, or what to wear. He feels a little stupid, actually putting much thought into it, but... it's easier to think about that than the other stuff.

He moves to slip out of bed, pausing to look back at Steven for a moment. Are they really okay? It doesn't feel like it. It feels like he just let Steven down again and there's no way to deal with the frustration that comes from that in any way that won't upset him even more.

Maybe dinner will make it up to him.

He does pause before he goes to the bathroom, reaching out to muss the other man's hair a little. "I'll be out in a little bit, alright?"

Maybe he'll feel half-way human again, after the hottest shower he's able to stand and cleaning himself up a bit. Then maybe he'll go out for some clothes and hope-- dinner's a little bit better with Steven.

"I'll save you some water if you wanna clean up. Gonna guess there's no sharing before the first date." Easier to get Steven flustered a bit, right? Get him focused on something else.

Steven nods numbly, making a soft noise and ducking his head as Marc somehow messes his hair up even more than it already is.

"I'm not getting in the shower with you, have you-- perving at my bits." Nevermind that they're actually Marc's bits. The longer they stay split apart like this, the more their bodies are going to change. Steven doesn't have Marc's workout routines and Marc isn't vegan.

"You're such an animal," Steven mutters, clutching onto his invisible pearl-laden blanket, giving Marc a shifty, dirty look. Clearly Steven is fine with cuddling and spooning and having sad talks but there's a line they can't cross fondling in a crammed little shower.

"Sorry, buddy... we shared those bits for a very long time, you know." He's 'perved at them' before, not really being the virginal sort. But he figures with that dirty look and complaint, Steven doesn't really want to hear about that or wouldn't trust Marc to keep his hands to himself anyway. Maybe he'd be right, considering their sleeping arrangement.

He just holds his hands up at the insult in a pacifying gesture before he steps into the bathroom and gets the water going. He'll make it quick, as promised, and even come out fully dressed and ready for the rest of the day... only a little reluctantly so.

There's quiet little weird noises while Marc is in the shower. Steven looks like he had been stung by wasps when Marc emerges. But he'll adamantly deny that he's been crying. He's fine. He promises he'll feel better once he's had a chance to wash up, and there's no sobbing noises in the shower or bent over the sink. By the time he slips on his comfy long sleeve shirt and pants, Steven can manage a small smile as he shuffles out of the toilet, rubbing his arm, damp curls tumbling down his forehead.

"I need to find clothes for tonight." And some other things to keep him sane in this too-sterile room. He's at home with Marc but a few books wouldn't hurt. Just a few, not a tower. Maybe a small stash of packaged snacks so Marc doesn't drink without eating anything, and some basic supplies like cup noodles so that they can spend a day or two inside their cabin if need be. They might get cabin fever but at least Marc might appreciate that they're prepared for a-- whatever. Zombie outbreak on the cruiseship.

"And you-- probably don't want me following you around everywhere." Especially if Marc's going back to the watering hole. If Steven can't stop him then... he doesn't really want to know about it, honestly. "I'll see you at the restaurant?"

Yeah, no. Marc doesn't buy the whole he hasn't been sobbing excuse for a second. But-- pushing isn't gonna help and if Steven needs some time to himself, well... Marc's not gonna deny him that.

"I don't-- mind." If he's with him. Marc isn't the one that's ever wanted Steven out of his life, or out of his head. But he also doesn't want to deny Steven the chance to live for however long they're able to here. He deserves the independence.

"But yeah, sure. I gotta pick some stuff up too." Steven doesn't have to worry-- Marc's thinking along the same lines, anyway. This place is going to drive Steven crazy, empty as it is, and he saw some... at least trashy, cheap paperbacks down at one of the shops. They're not gonna be masterpieces, but he'll grab some he thinks Steven might enjoy... or might just sit and judge his taste for. Whatever. Steven will probably find a tiny stack left on his side of the bed whenever they're back home tonight.

He's not even going to drink and show up messy and drunk to the restaurant. He can try to give Steven-- at least some of what he wants. Which means less drinking, apparently. He will, however, show up in the nicest Tommy Bahama shirt in navy that he can find and a pair of slacks with meticulously styled hair and not reeking even a bit of alcohol.

Steven probably shouldn't have gone out on his own. He did manage to do the things he'd set out to do, and Marc would have seen a few items trickle into their room, but he also got into all sorts of trouble and he didn't have Marc he could ask for advice. Even though Marc would have likely kept him from talking to new people.

Steven got to the restaurant first. He's wearing a maroon Tommy Bahama half zip sweater and beige chinos. It's not what he'd normally wear but separately he might be caught in the sweater, or who knows, maybe this will end up in Marc's closet. His hair is the usual curly mess but he did try. It doesn't look anything like Marc's though and something in his stomach turns as he watches in mild awe when Marc takes a seat opposite from him.

"You clean up well," Steven quips, managing a small, slightly nervous smile. He doesn't even know why he's got nerves. Marc is just indulging him on a play date.

There's a small snort as Marc settles in, managing a smile. He had some-- interesting conversations, himself. Nothing that left him particularly feeling easy about their current adventure. But-- date night and all. He'll wait until later to dump all his worries on Steven.

For now, he just gives a shrug of his shoulders. "So do you."

Although he still wonders how Steven always manages to keep that mess of curls, no matter what. It-- suits him. Is it weird to appreciate a guy who's essentially him like this? Maybe. But Marc is thoroughly used to weird.

"So, how'd your day out go, Steven?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. I ticked everyone off," he says with a self-deprecating little laugh. He even managed to piss off a robot somehow. A bloody robot that probably doesn't have the whole gamut of emotions programmed in or whatever. Marc really needn't worry that anyone will steal Steven away from him or anything. Steven struggles so much just to befriend anyone. Marc can have him all to himself and everyone on the ship would gladly be rid of him.

"I ran away to hide inside the library and even there I managed to annoy people. Then I caught myself talking to you. I think I showed you half the library before I remembered you're not inside me anymore."

"What-- how?" But you know what-- he's had some not ideal run-ins himself. But then, he's used to being the asshole, generally. He hasn't really been trying. HE feels... kinda bad for Steven though. He's a social guy. He-- wants people around him.

... Also, man. That's just sad, buddy. Marc's expression twitches a little, but he tries to let it not go too sad at the thought. "Yeah. I know the feeling. Kept trying to talk to you and nothing. Not used to that-- sort of quiet."

Strange how quickly they got used to talking to each other like this, right? When living separate lives shouldn't be so hard for Steven, but...

"Tell you what, show me the library tomorrow. I, uh... got you some stuff from one of the shops. It's not what you read back home, but thought you might want a few books around the cabin for when you don't want to sleep."

Or just because.

Steven shrugs. "It's my superpower I guess," he grumbles with a sigh, lowering his gaze. "I just-- it was nice to have you for a while." He had Gus to talk to. And he had mum's voicemail. Crawley was a good sounding board too. And then he had Marc. And Layla then came into his life, too. But Gus is dead. And mum was a monster. He won't walk that same path to meet Crawley anymore, without his job. And Marc is sitting there, on the outside. And Layla was never Steven's to have.

He's on a cruiseship full of people. They're forced to live together, in a way. But Steven has never felt more alone in his life.

"Yeah? Yeah I'd-- like that. I'll take a look tonight, thanks. Brought back some-- emergency supplies, myself." Anyway. Who needs friends when you can live vicariously through trashy novels? Give him a few days and he'll be comfortable sitting alone in bed devouring all the books he can get his hands on.

"I think that's how everyone lives, Marc. In silence." It's supposed to be peaceful, not. Aggravating or isolating.

"Well. Anyway. Maybe it's good practice for you, y'know. For when you get better." Steven manages a brave little smile and nods. He doesn't need Steven to tell him that he's not well.

"If that's better, I don't want it, Steven." And like hell is he going to any actual psych ward where they'll pump him up with so many meds, all he does is sit and drool on himself and stare at his reflection, just wanting Steven to appear. Besides-- his kind of sick? It doesn't go away.

And Steven Grant is the better half. Marc's just-- a violent murderer who will be locked up in a padded room and have no one and the doctors will never let him out again. It sounds like a nightmare.

"You-- still got me, you know. Maybe not the same way as before, but I'm not abandoning you. I'm not gonna leave you. You're kinda stuck with me, buddy."

"Well. I don't know what's 'better' anymore." Steven nudges the menu over closer to Marc. "All I know is that we deserve a break for saving the world. We'll just tell them we're brothers. Nobody has to know." They haven't yet met anyone who recognises them. Steven hasn't at least, and nobody's called him Marc. They can probably get away with it a while longer.

"I'm here for you too." Whatever good he can do. Marc seems to think he's useful for something and anyway, where else is he going to go? He'll probably piss off the Captain before their time is up here, with his kind of luck.

"With any luck you won't get mistaken for me and get punched in the face," Steven remarks with a chuckle.

"Here, take a look at the menu. What'll you have?"

"Brothers on a date, huh? That might get us some funny looks for a whole other reason." He's already-- mentioned twin though, just because that's what Steven went with and what else is he gonna say? The guy who he shares a body with is suddenly outside of it for whatever reason?

"Don't worry about it. Pretty sure I can get people to punch me in the face for unrelated reasons... But seriously, don't worry about it. Maybe people are on edge." Or Steven is saying something that's genuinely pissing them off, but-- how's he supposed to know what? Maybe he does need to spend a day with Steven, or just... watching Steven.

He does take the menu with a thoughtful hum. Food-- yeah, that's probably a good idea at this point. "You find anything you want?"

Hopefully they've got some options Steven will genuinely enjoy. "Maybe just a steak. Been a long time since I've had a decent one."

That's so rude, Marc. Steven is the biggest if not one of the biggest care bears on this ship. Why assume he's saying or doing anything bad?

"Well. We can tell anyone who asks that it's just dinner..." Steven goes pale at the mention of steak and he buries his face behind a propped up menu. If Marc sprouts a second head tonight Steven won't even pretend to be surprised.

"Um... oh! They have glazed roasted carrots and stuffed miso eggplant." That's exciting when he's used to vegan options that are usually just meat options without the meat. They turn out bland and like there's a big piece of something missing from the plate. That or people forget eggs and cheese aren't vegan.

"Anyway, um--" Steven waits until after they've ordered food to ask. "What trouble have you gotten up to?"

Look-- he's not saying he's intentionally doing it, but... you know, he can talk a lot. He rambles a lot. Sometimes it might rub people the wrong way. Not that it's Steven's fault necessarily.

And Marc's pretty well used to it by now.

He also kinda-- notices that reaction. Hard to miss when Steven looks like he's gone several shades paler than usual, and Marc recalls the mention of the steakhouse date or whatever. The one he missed.

Maybe he'll switch to that spinach and artichoke lasagna. Sounds decent and Steven doesn't have to sit there watching him eat a cow while they try to do this-- date thing.

"Not much, I guess. Just talked to a few people around here, tried to get some information. Hey-- you remember the guy on the news years ago? The super soldier with the metal arm, used to hang around Captain America back during World War II? Well, apparently he's here. Bumped into him at the store. Said-- how shit gets replaced, even if you wreck it around here. TVs or whatever."

Marc isn't one to get starstruck and the guy puts him a little on edge, but-- hey. It's something to talk about that isn't someone already mistaking him for Steven and getting a little hostile. "The just grabbed a few things to take back to the room."

... Maybe got some pills to help sleep so Steven doesn't have to watch him drink himself into a coma.

"The terrorist that was on the telly who bombed the UN building and murdered the Wakandan king?" Steven frowns and shrinks back in his seat. "He's here?" He asks quietly. This is probably why Steven can't make friends.

He squirms uneasily, glancing up at Marc. "Are you friends now? What's he like?" Maybe he's not as bad as the news made him out to be, but Steven doubts it.

"I um. Met a lady in the library. And a robot. The lady was alright. We read Stephen King together." The robot encounter was... hmmnnnggh.

"Yeah-- that'd be the one." Way to sum it up very nicely, Steven. But you know, he hopes he has the sense enough to not say it to the guy's face.

"Friends?" When does Marc do friends, Steven? "We just talked for a little bit, buddy. Don't jump the gun. He's kinda-- weird. Staring... issue."

But then what else would he be, right? Considering the history he had attached. "Doesn't talk much."

He shrugs his shoulders. He didn't try to murder Marc, didn't overly bother him.

"See? That's not so bad. Can't have hated you too much if you read together. Uh, some kid told me there's a skeleton around who knows some stuff. Might be worth it, trying to find him. I mean, how hard can a skeleton be to spot, right?"

Oh he doesn't have to worry about them meeting. As soon as Steven sees Bucky in the flesh he will scream like a girl and flee in the opposite direction. Because that's how you make friends around here.

"Well. Not to compare, but. You don't talk much either..." Although, that may also be reinforced by the fact that Steven tends to cry every time Marc says something - and not even when he's being mean. Maybe it's Steven's fault and he needs to be more... regulated.

"Maybe you could teach me a thing or two about bottling it up like a real man," Steven jokes. Get him an in on the murder club. Even though he'd much prefer a book club or learning how to knit or something a little less... stabby.

"A skeleton? Are you sure? Like an animated dead thing?" Steven's not sure how he feels about that. Last time he tangoed with animated dead things he ended up going overboard. "You know sometimes kids mean things figuratively..."

Hey, he talks to Steven more than he talks to anyone else. And he doesn't just sit and try to bore holes through him with his eyes, right? Step up, in his option. He shakes his head, giving a wry smile at that. "You don't want to do that. Don't be like me."

Even if Steven could maybe stand to to get so worked up all the time, maybe. He doesn't want him hiding anything, not really.

"Nah, not that young. She insisted skeleton... and I mean, c'mon, man. We have ghosts here, apparently, so why not skeletons?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"As far as that goes, we got like-- robots on the Avengers back home." Androids. Whatever. Had them, at least. And alien attacks.

"I d'know, maybe I'd annoy fewer people if I just keep my mouth shut." That'd be safer for the two of them, wouldn't it? And he wouldn't be so high strung all the time if he could just take things a little easier.

"Ghosts and skeletons are completely different," Steven protests, wrinkling his nose. "Ghosts are ubiquitous across many cultures. Animated skeletons are just-- Steven Grant level C grade horror movies."

He hasn't seen the movie yet. He's not sure he wants to. If he's having an existential crisis right now he's not going to be able to handle that.

"Hey, come on-- that movie is not C grade. You've never even seen it!" Don't insult your date's favorite comfort movie, Steven, that's not how you succeed at dating. He's probably not seen it in years, himself, though. Hard to track down a VHS...

"Okay, you know what? We're gonna go track down this skeleton while we're here." Now it's veered into something personal. Steven can believe ghosts and hippos and the underworld looking like a mental ward, but he can't accept a talking skeleton?

"Alright, Alright. I won't judge it based on the poster..." Steven inwardly cringes. "You couldn't have called me James Bond or something? I would've been cool as 007." Those aren't comfort movies though.

"I'm not saying he's not real, I'm just saying, sometimes children have overactive imaginations. Thought she was younger than what you meant. I'm done fighting dead things, thanks... I mean I'll meet him, but." Steven's getting anxious about it already.

"I don't think the robot's dead though. I thought everyone was sailing to the afterlife. Can robots die?"

He pulls a face at that. "That's so... generic. James Bond. Really? Everybody wants to be James Bond. You're better off as yourself."

High strung and nervous and all that.

"I didn't say fight. I said talk. You know, have a chat." No one said anything about busting heads, Steven. They're not doing this on the request of Khonshu or anything.

"I-- don't really know, Steven." That's a little too philosophical for him. "I don't know what rules this place works on."

Does he tell Steven they're entertainment for the Captain? He doesn't want to stress him out more and maybe-- maybe he can keep him safe from ending up like that. Or maybe he'll just get Steven angry at him again. Maybe when they get back to the room or something.

"But, uh, you know... none of this is exactly date talk."

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