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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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."

"Yeah, well, when I chat with someone, there's a cuppa' tea and some jam biscuits. Every time you chat with someone there's always knives involved." Steven shoots Marc a suspicious look. He'll believe a civil, nonviolent chat when he sees it.

"Ye' alright. Charm me with date talk." Steven smiles and props his chin in his elbow, stroking the side of his glass idly. "You know, even after everything, you know all this stuff about me but I don't feel like I really know you." Maybe it's because he likes a lot of things Layla likes and Marc's been aware of his existence for his whole life, so there hasn't really been a need to get to know Steven in quite the same way as Steven needing to get to know Marc.

"What kind of music do you listen to? What's a perfect weekend look like?"

"Yeah, well, she said if you yell at him, his feelings get hurt and he'll cry." Does that remind Steven of anyone... Anyway, he can't even deny that. His talks usually never end up well. He's not actively trying to fight anyone though... not yet at least.

He gives a thoughtful hum as he brings his own glass up to his lips for a sip. What does he like?

"Uh, I don't know... older stuff, I guess. Rock." But he's not actually all that picky, and he doesn't really listen all that much. Usually he's busy when he's in control, always on the move. Slowing down here is gonna be... a hell of a challenge.

"You know, that's not as easy to answer as you'd think. Getting some actual sleep for a change, not having to go anywhere... maybe with someone else in there with me." For-- probably a lot more than Steven is up for.

He wonders if Steven expected him to say drinking or something like that. Travel, maybe. If it wasn't for Khonshu, Marc might not mind that too much. Khonshu or some Captain that wants to watch them for entertainment value.

"Alright, anything else you'd like to know?" It's-- strange, talking about himself. He makes it a point not to, generally. But Steven deserves to know him as well as he can... even if he's sure it'll be disappointing in the end.

"He wha?" Is Marc comparing Steven to a skeleton now! That's rude. Although, fair, Steven can appreciate a modern, sensitive, meatless man.

"This must be a lot for you then. Next time I'll bring back a piece of steak, keep you company in bed, read you a story." Does that sound better? It's more in line with what Steven would enjoy too. "Yeah. I'm a quiet night in type of bloke too. I'm sure you already knew that though."

Their food arrives and honestly it all looks and smells amazing. Steven seems quite delighted and he seems to be enjoying the cruise so far. It's still got some vacation qualities to it in his mind.

"Oh my days, Marc. There's so much food. That looks amazing!" He's so thrilled by it not being a hunk of steak, too.

... Not quite what he meant by 'company in bed', but... it doesn't sound bad either. He gives a bit of a smile. "Nah, this is nice too, Steven. But-- we can do that. Doesn't have to be steak."

Marc isn't actually that picky of an eater. Whatever Steven brings back, he'll eat. Not like he hasn't been in many situations where he's had to eat what he was given or do without. "Might have had an idea or two."

Steven isn't really the clubbing all night sort... although it might be amusing to drag him to the one on ship at some point, right? Just see how he handles himself...

Although right now, he huffs out a laugh at the excitement. "Oh, well-- I'd offer you a bite, but you just had to swear off cheese too, didn't you?" He jokes lightly.

"Well I don't want you starving to death," Steven teases. "But I suppose there's merits to getting you alone in bed too." They don't have to act a certain way if they're in private, keep up this act.

"I'd eat anything you make. Even if it's got cheese. Or bits of meat." Steven might squirm if it's something not kosher but he wouldn't kick up a huge fuss about it. "Although, if I have that much cheese, you might have to deal with me hogging the toilet all night. I know, same body and all, but. I feel funny after all that dairy..."

Is that too much information for a first date? It seems like important information, first date or not.

"We're actually quite different, with what we can stomach, what we know, what we can do. I don't know, I was quite looking forward to learning a few things from you by-- osmosis or whatever." Steven picks at his food with a small, rueful smile, nibbling on a few pieces of carrot.

"Yeah?" There's a slight twitch of a smile. He's pretty sure he's thinking along different lines than Steven still, but-- "Like what?"

C'mon, Steven wanted date talk. And he even wins points with the whole 'I'd eat anything you make' line... at least until he goes on about his inability to handle lactose. Then Marc is just pulling a face. "Yeah, buddy, no. No cheese for you. Definitely not tonight."

Far too much information on the first date, buddy. They're gonna have to work on that.

It's not really all that surprising to him, that they're different. That they handle anything different. Then again, he's been on the outside a lot and Steven just... hasn't. "What were you hoping to learn? You know-- maybe I can just teach you a thing or two."

He has no idea what he has to teach though.

"Well. You're pretty cuddly, I've found." That was an interesting revelation. Not an unwelcome one, mind! Steven likes cuddling too. And hair petting. "We could also read together. Or go through some classifieds or the tabloids and laugh at how embarrassing Britain is. Hows about watching some telly? Or talking about... happy things." They must still have a few happy things in their repertoire to talk about.

"I can handle a bit. Relax mate." He even nicks a piece of artichoke from Marc's plate that has cheese on it, eating it before Marc can try and steal it back. He won't die from bits of meat either. He gets served it often enough by people who don't care that he's vegan. He'd just-- rather not.

"I dunno. You could teach me to throw a right hook that wouldn't hurt my hand. Or Arabic. I mean, I signed up to go to the forest, but I don't know the first thing about starting a fire or putting up a tent or digging a trench or wha'ever."

He wants to insist it's not-- cuddling. But it sort of is. It probably says something not very great about him that one of the only ones he'll let cling to him like some sort of octopus at night is the guy that used to live in his head, but... whatever. Steven paints a very... pretty little picture. Domestic, rather than the spicier date night talk he'd expect.

He makes a face when Steven grabs for a piece of artichoke. The toilet better not be occupied all night, that's all he's saying. "If you regret that later, it's all on you, Steven."

But-- yeah. Okay. He gives a nod. "Sure. Sure, I can do that."

Maybe. It'll give them something to do at least. He gives a snort though, shaking his head. "Seriously? Well, I doubt we'll be digging trenches. But why'd you want to go to a camp anyway?"

If he's expecting spicy talk, he's flirting with the wrong octopus. Steven's idea of spicy is limited to pink and flowers tinted lovemaking scenes under the covers with the lights down low. Shy giggling and dreamy sighs, not-- the kind of violent, hardcore porn that Marc is thinking of.

"I thought it'd be good to get off the boat a wee while. Get my bearings. Maybe find out where we are, if there's any native flora or fauna we can pluck samples and take notes of." Basically going full Dr. Steven Grant.

"But also, it's something you did, innit? I want to do the things you've done. Nights under the stars and scary insects and lack of sanitation and all. I want to try out some of your life - without worrying about landmines or getting shot at."

Maybe they can work on the spicy talk -- maybe. Even if he's pretty sure Steven's idea of spicy is rose petals on the bed and some artfully shot, pretty lovemaking scene.

... and oh great. Not a bad idea, maybe, but Marc can't say he's not a bit worried. If he gets caught up in some weird, other world poison ivy and spends the camping trip miserable, that'll be the least of what Marc's envisioning could go wrong.

"Why?" There's a curious look at Steven's insistence. "I mean-- I don't think you'd actually like the life I've led, Steven."

He's not... judging him for it necessarily. It's just a tiny bit-- confusing.

Steven's paced himself through the meal, though now that he's thinking and talking more, he's slowed down a bit to just picking at his food.

"I dunno, I think-- I'd get to know you better. Maybe we can-- find more common ground. Things to talk about. Maybe I'll be more self-sufficient. More... like you." He's not thinking he'll spend a few days amongst the trees and come back like Bear Grylls but at the very least he'll have experienced something different. Starting fire with rocks seems like a cool skill to learn.

"If I can't do something out of my comfort zone now, I'll never get the chance. This is kind of it, Marc. Now or never. It's not even-- really all that reckless." At least, he didn't think so anyway. "Imagine if I'd just-- died in my flat. Never been to Egypt. Didn't do nothing. That would've been my life. Not a single thing you could've written on my grave."

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