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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"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."

"Don't we talk now?" Well, Steven talks. Marc's-- just not usually the type, even with Layla. Even with Steven. And last time they had a talk about anything more substantial, Steven ended up in tears and Marc felt even worse than usual. He's not-- sure he wants a repeat of that.

Or for Steven to be more like him. What a fucking nightmare.

But he can-- understand the rest. Hard to argue against that. "I want you to get out there and do things, Steven. I do. Whatever it is you want to do."

Just-- this place is insane and he can't help but worry. Losing Steven would gut him. But if Steven needs his own life-- well, Marc can't stop him from that. Not without a lot of resentment building up. He shifts in his seat a little bit, leaning forward. "Just be careful, alright? I can't-- be there to keep you safe like I used to."

"Well, yeah, but-- we gravitate to different things. I can't talk to you about-- dead things and you can't talk to me about. I don't even know what you like? Sports things?" It's not the same. He wants the kind of relationship with Marc that he could potentially have with Layla. The sit up all night talking about all the things they have in common kind of relationship.

"I suppose I don't really want to go camping. But I do want to do it to-- connect with you, on another level. And anyway, there's not much else to do around here. I'll go back to reading in the room before you know it." He's naturally introverted and bookish and if he's on track to offending half the boat it won't be safe for him to be wandering around so much before long.

"Most people don't have a Marc to keep them safe... I think I'll be alright, yeah. I want to be with you, I just-- don't want you to be stuck with me all the time." That kind of stuff breeds resentment, and he'd hate for that to start between them.

"... Chicago Cubs," he answers after a beat. "Baseball. That's my team."

Not that he expects Steven to go out and learn all about baseball, but that's the sport he gravitates too -- the poster he had on his wall, the cap he wore in Egypt. Steven could have probably guessed. But he was never much one for football, American or otherwise.

He's not sure camping will really give-- Steven the connection he desperately wants, but Marc isn't sure he knows how to suggest anything better other than just... being around. And maybe Marc can try to open up with him, but he hadn't even been that successful with Layla, not really.

But he-- wants to. He wants to try at least.

"I'm not stuck with you." Marc's never seen it that way and he doesn't see why or how he would. But he can't make Steven see it that way... he's told Steven how much he means to him, what he feels about him, but he still seems overly worried that Marc's gonna change his mind.

"And-- there are a lot of ways we could connect, Steven. If that's what you want."

"Well you could teach me about baseball and I could teach you about cricket. Sounds like a fair deal to me." Steven smiles to himself as he finishes the last of his food.

"I'm open to ideas!" If Marc wants to connect with him on any level for any reason, Steven is definitely open to it. "I'm-- I may not look it but I'm willing to try new things."

Maybe he'll realise that just because Marc doesn't open up to him and blabber on for hours doesn't mean he doesn't want to connect with Steven. But he's still learning how to navigate around Marc and he hasn't really figured these things out yet.

"Alright, it's a deal." Even if-- cricket sounds boring. Sorry, Steven. He'll put on a smile and listen anyway, or if Steven wants to-- read all the French poetry he can find to him, or whatever.

He likes seeing Steven enthusiastic over things, that's all. He lights up so much.

But they're done with their food and... the date's not been too bad, he thinks. Hopefully. "We'll figure it out, alright?"

They'll find things to do together, even if that's just sitting around the room together. For now, he slides to his feet and flashes Steven a look. "You ready to head back to our room?"

See? No drinking tonight. Hopefully that means no tears in bed.

Cricket is not boring! How is it any different to whack a ball and then run a few laps? It's just that the stick and the rules to get someone out are a little different... it's definitely going to be less embarrassing than French poetry. That stuff is going to make Steven squirm and blush.

"Yeah." He lines his cutlery up and sets his napkin to the side neatly, sliding out of his chair. Steven tugs down on the sides of his trousers a little unsexily, unable to resist fidgeting a bit when he gets out of his seat.

"It was nice, going out with you," Steven offers quietly as he shuffles to be in line with Marc. "I don't-- like or dislike being on the outside. But I do like being able to see you like this. Touch you. I-- I think we're both more-- I d'know, not real, but. I like seeing you from the outside." And the cuddling and the snuggling and the soft touches and the failed attempts at Marcing his hair aren't so bad either.

Look-- maybe he'll get into cricket too once Steven starts going on about it more. Or maybe he'll just request more French poetry to watch Steven wiggle and squirm and try to find his way around the dirty bits.

But for right now, he waits until they start moving to reach out and rest a hand at the back of Steven's neck, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Yeah... me too, Steven."

He likes being able to touch, to see Steven without the aid of a mirror for all of their communications, or just speaking to Steven in his head. He knows there's a potential to going back to all that, and they'll deal if or when that happens.

But right now? He's definitely dragging Steven along back to their cabin, looking forward to more of... this. "C'mon, let's go finish this date up right."

Well, maybe not 'right' in the way Marc usually ends them.

Maybe there's supposed to be more intimacy on date nights. Steven wouldn't know. He's never really had ones that've gone all that well. He's way too eager to get out of his beige chinos and the door to their room has barely closed when he pulls them down and off his legs, nudging Marc over towards the bed.

He's never really thought about-- doing anything Untoward with Marc. He enjoys sharing a bed together, likes the warmth and feeling safe and like Marc wouldn't let him just wander off in the middle of the night even though maybe he doesn't have a sleeping disorder but he still can't be sure because strange things have happened that they're both not aware during.

Quite something else to be kicking off his shoes and leaving them and his socks lying around and his chinos on the floor as he sits on the edge of the bed and tugs on Marc's shirt sleeve, trying to get him to lie down with him.

Maybe after an hour and a bit when they've cleaned up and are lying down in bed together, when Steven is looking up and marveling at Marc's resting handsome face, the most scandalous thought that might run through him is maybe kissing him and praying that he won't freak out.

Marc can't say he's-- thought about it when they've shared the same body until recently. Hard to think about the logistics of that, isn't it? He's not even sure they should be sharing a bed together, but he promised Steven he'd keep him from wandering off... even if he's sure he doesn't have an actual sleep disorder.

And okay, maybe, selfishly, he likes it. He likes Steven being near him and nowhere else. It's probably not healthy, but nothing about him is. Why should that be?

But right now, he's letting Steven pull him into the room, letting himself get nudged towards the bed. He even bites back the urge to tell Steven to not act like he was raised in a barn and pick up his clothes. Tomorrow, he'll tell him.

Right now, he's climbing on to the bed and smiling down at Steven -- a real smile. It feel odd on his face when he doesn't do it all that often, but it feels safe to do it here. It's Steven, and Steven's always felt more like home than anywhere else he's been. A safe little space from the rest of the world, from himself.

Part of him is terrified of Steven ever losing that hope he's got, that zest for life that Marc will never have. He doesn't want to see that broken. But right now, he can't worry about that too much as he settles in. One hand goes through Steven's hair before he leans in and--

Kisses his cheek. It's sweeter than anything Marc's ever done. Something awkward about the gesture just-- because it's not exactly natural for him. But for Steven, he's willing to try a lot of shit he's not exactly used to. Hopefully it'll even out all the bad bits he's sure to be exposed to.

"Good date, yeah?"

What-- good dates usually end in some sort of kiss and Marc felt compelled in the moment. At least he curbed the urge to do more than a chaste little thing that hopefully won't. Make things weird.

Steven doesn't seem to find the peck on the cheek awkward at all. If anything, he's delighted, and his chest rises with telltale signs of his insides going aflutter. It's been nice, selfish though it might be, to get all this attention from Marc, when not too long ago he's just been on this dangerous, self-destructive warpath, when he spent so much time yelling at Steven, telling him to get back inside, then breaking down everything he's ever known about reality on their final voyage into the afterlife, the stress of the end of the world, Taweret - it was all so much, all at once. They finally have some time, some space to themselves where they're not running around like headless chickens. Surely it's fine to just indulge for a little while.

"Yeah." He fidgets with the hem of his sweater for a bit before finding the courage to slide his cool hand up, brushing against Marc's warm cheek. He swallows, looking up partly in wonder, partly in curiosity. Maybe he's never seen himself from the outside, but he's never taken his time and seen himself up close even in the mirror.

Steven leans up and closes his eyes, giving Marc an equally chaste kiss on the lips. He'd hate for Marc to think he's just-- easy or that he's looking for something more than the sweet little moments they already share. But you can't really sleep with a man and then not give him the time of day, can you?

Marc still doesn't know what to do with himself. He can't-- get more dead than he already is. But Ammit is here with them, which means she's far away from Harrow's hands and he didn't... fail. He didn't fail at saving the world, at least. He failed Steven. Layla is-- he's not sure. He'd prefer it if she just gave up, chalked Marc up to not a huge loss and went on with her life than seeking Harrow out for any sort of revenge, especially now that the world is safe, Khonshu is still locked away.

He failed getting Steven back to his normal life, to his nice, normal little flat to his nice, normal little life with Gus and books and...

Well, it's been a lot. It's the first time in a long time that Marc's not felt all that weight on his shoulders beyond keeping Steven safe. That's a nice, familiar weight though. He just hopes he can actually do it here.

Maybe he's already failing though. Gotta be something twisted about what they're doing. Same body, even if they're not sharing the exact same one anymore. They're not the same person, but-- it's complicated.

But selfishly, he likes that sweet little kiss that Steven decides to press to his lips. It's sweet and chaste and not quite-- how Marc kisses at all. But it's very Steven, and it's... something he chose to give, right? Hopefully not pressured into it. It's hard to not press up into it, chase it for something more substantial.

But scaring Steven off is the last thing he wants. So he just lets out a sigh and slides a hand up to cover Steven's. He gives a slight, reassuring squeeze.

"C'mon, left those books I found you over there. See if you like'em. I'm gonna finish getting ready for bed." It's all gonna be cheap, trashy action... but hey, he tried, right? And what can you expect when they're sold next to the toothpaste?

"Oh!" Well that's one way to distract the Brit. He turns to look at the neat stack of books and tries not to laugh at the cover and the first couple of titles. Oh that's terrifying but he doesn't want to undermine the nice thing that Marc did for him.

Reaching over, Steven grins as he picks up the book from the top. The cover looks so cheesy! Who knew Marc was into these kinds of... legal secretary has issues paying the rent, gets a side hustle being a lady of the night, and witnesses a murder on her way home, steals a pack of cigarettes from the corpse that happens to contain a pendrive with nuclear codes kind of trash? He can't help but laugh as he shuffles up to the headboard, settles cross-legged in bed and starts opening the cover.

"I didn't know you were into horror," Steven muses as he starts the page turner. Mostly it's horrifying how bad the writing is. At least it doesn't open straightaway to her moaning while a strange man ploughs and grunts on top of her.

When Marc emerges out of the shower he will find Steven's eyebrows telling a story of their own, rising and falling as he giggles over the over the topness contained in the first chapter alone.

Hey, look, it's not like the selection was... huge or anything. Just a few paperbacks shoved out for display with varying degrees of cheese, but none without it entirely.

He comes out of the shower in his boxer briefs and damp hair pushed back before he flops down on the bed next to Steven. He lets out a quiet laugh at the faces he's making and shifts on to his side to face Steven, pulling the covers over himself.

At least-- he looks? entertained. Somewhat. Marc sinks back against the pillows and folds his arms over his stomach. "Hey, try to get some sleep tonight, yeah?"

"I'll just finish the first chapter," he promises with a few nods. He won't keep Marc up with the light on. It shouldn't be that addictive anyway, beyond some sense of masochism to keep going and seeing how much worse it gets. And it's actually a bit of a struggle, because Steven didn't die with his glasses on him, so pushing himself past that is just going to wear him out.

Besides, it's tempting to get comfortable with Marc now. He doesn't want to settle in too much until after he's gotten up and had his turn in the bathroom - without any cheese-induced incidents, thank you very much.

"Have you read any of these kinds of books before?" Steven asks while he's still peering into the abyss between the pages. He's not sure if Marc's read any kind of book before, but one shouldn't end date night with what people might perceive as insults to their hobbies or intelligence or anything like that.

"I'm not sure they're the kind that'd put you to sleep, but. If you're struggling, sometimes it helps."

Marc might have stashed a few bottles of sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom that he's pretty sure will put him to sleep quicker than any book Steven to push at him, but-- he doesn't tell him as much. No reason to push whatever help Steven's trying to give him by suggesting reading.

"Mm?" He stretches out on the bed with a sigh, thinking that over. "Never been much of a reader, really. Just whatever I had to read in school."

And half the time, he was too-- stressed out or depressed to actually care about more than just getting by and getting the hell out of their parents' home. "Guess there was Hebrew school too. Not that-- our Bar Mitzvah was worth all that studying and shit."

Mom had made sure of that, the way she made sure every birthday was miserable as fuck too.

Steven winces, feeling like he's opened a can of worms there with a question that had sounded much more innocent in his head. He frowns and puts the book down, back on top of the pile, freeing up his hands to latch onto Marc, give him a tight but fairly brief hug.

"I'll read to you," he promises softly before slipping away again, sitting up and shuffling away to get off the bed. "Tomorrow night maybe." He's just going to take a quick one in the bathroom before sliding back into his side of the bed, sneaking in under the covers and keeping his cool, damp hands to himself, at least until he wrings some warmth into them.

"Do I disturb you in bed? I've never-- really shared a bed with anyone."

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

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