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

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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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"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."

It's not-- really that bad of a question. Marc doesn't look that upset by it. It's all just-- facts of their lives, right? And now they're dead, so no sense in dwelling on that if he can help it. The hug is a bit of a surprise though, and it gets him to give Steven a quick pat on the back, reassuring.

"I can read," he insists with a laugh, but-- "Alright."

Not gonna hurt to try to pick up a new hobby or two, right? They're here for the foreseeable future after all.

He's still awake by the time Steven comes back, arms folded behind his head, eyes up towards the ceiling. He makes room with the other slides in though.

"Nah. You're alright, buddy. If you want a bed to yourself though-- I can always pull out the couch, you know. I don't mind."

He's slept worse places.

"I don't need the whole bed," he insists. There was something reassuring about the ankle cuff, but if it's between that or snuggling with Marc, who would choose the cuff?

"I like you here," he mutters softly, sidling up next to Marc. He likes... holding him, even if they're not spooning. He likes breathing him in. Is that weird? He just-- smells so familiar. Feels so familiar. He likes Marc's hand in his hair.

"I still-- want you inside." How he means that is definitely not up for interpretation. "But. I like that you're outside, too."

"You-- what?" Way to nearly give him a heart attack, Steven, for fuck's sake. His heart actually skips a beat. "C'mon, man, don't say it like that."

Or there are going to be all kinds of wrong ideas floating around and it'll be massively weird. Or not weird, which will make it even weirder somehow. "I get what you mean. I-- miss it too, but it's better for you. Right? You get to live your own life for once, not worry about what I'll drag you into."

Which is-- a good thing. Marc's grateful for the chance for Steven, even if it's leaving him uneasy and weirdly... a bit hollow.

"And whatever happens, you got me right here too."

"Like what? Was I not inside you?" His grip tightens a bit around Marc before he lets go again.

Is this better? He doesn't really know for sure. "I think... it's a little early to tell. If this is going to be better for us." Because the 'us' part is important, not whether it's going to be better for just Steven or just Marc.

"I wasn't-- made for that." Living his own life. He'd tried before, but clearly it didn't work out. And anyway, who knows how long they're going to be here for? This could be another short stint in any psych ward type of place.

"I still want to stay here, with you." Maybe he's still a little worried that he can't get back in if he strays too far or something. "Live my life out of this room... that's okay too, innit?"

"It just--" Okay. It sounds dirty when he says it like that. Filthy, disgusting, porno levels of dirty, and Marc's not a good enough man that his thoughts aren't straying there of their own accord.

"Never mind. That's-- yeah. Sure. That's how it was, buddy." They were inside each other, in entirely non-sexual, non-deviant ways.

"Stop that. You're whatever you want to be, Steven." He was a kid. He hadn't made him with-- any intention. He just happened. He came to him when he needed him. It makes-- Marc feel some way when Steven insists he wasn't made for this or for that. He wants him to have that free will to decide how to be happy for himself.

He lets out a breath as he settles his arms a little more securely around Steven, holds him close and tight and-- maybe in every way he shouldn't, but Steven keeps insisting he wants it and Marc's an asshole. So of course they're gonna keep doing it. "Hey... yeah, it's okay. Of course it's okay. We're always gonna be together. Promise, alright?"

Steven murmurs quietly and nods a few times, running his fingertips across Marc's skin as he starts to relax in his embrace. He doesn't know what he wants to be just yet. He just has a few inklings here and there of how he wants to be. And maybe he should be more independent, and a little less reliant on Marc. But Marc isn't pushing him away and they're making this cabin work together and there's no reason to do anything too different from how things are working out for them now.

Tugging down on the hem of his shirt, Steven wriggles a bit and tries to settle down for the night.

"Goodnight, Marc." Steven snakes a leg in between Marc's and stops just short of going full octopus, latching on just a little bit, keeping his head above the blanket line just enough to not suffocate under the covers.

"Yeah... Goodnight, Steven," he murmurs quietly, parting his legs a bit to give him room to tangle in, one hand going up to pet through Steven's hair. It seems to relax him as much as it does Marc just being able to touch.

He thinks he can-- actually fall asleep like this. The warmth and solid press of Steven around him, the way Steven's breath will inevitably start to even out as he settles in for sleep. Maybe he won't even have the usual bouts of nightmares.

He hopes so, anyway.

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

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