come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't expect-- anything good waiting for me, in the afterlife. The after-afterlife. Wherever we're going. I haven't done anything worth anything. But I... I mean. I would like to have options like we have on the ship. Than have baked beans on toast and instant noodles everyday for the rest of eternity." Steven wrinkles his nose as he ventures into the kitchen, a little hesitant in case there's angry staff waiting to jump on them or kick them out.

There's nobody else there though so his tense shoulders relax a bit and he wanders on in, hooking a finger into a cupboard door and pulling it open slowly to peer inside.

"I could just have a whole can of beetroot I guess..." he muses as he pulls one out to inspect it. He doesn't have a particular craving but it was the first thing his eyes caught. "Doesn't need to be cooked or warmed up."

"What are you talking about? You helped save the world, didn't you?" That's something, if not allowing Marc to hide away when he absolutely needed it. That-- means something to him. That means a lot to him, actually.

He hums as he steps into the kitchen, snooping through cabinets for ingredients, tries to figure out something to make that they can both enjoy--

And then gives Steven a look. "Beetroot? No-- c'mon, sit down. I got this."

"What's wrong with beetroot?" Steven doesn't put it back but he does close the cupboard and move over to follow as instructed, finding a place to sit where he can watch Marc while holding his beetroot in his lap.

He's perfectly capable of cooking but the thought of putting 3 hours into a kitchen for a hot meal is... well if he's also cooking for Marc that's another thing entirely. Of course he would. But he's not sure how Marc's going to like his food. He's making a funny face about beetroot already.

"Are you cooking something for me?" Steven's eyes seem a little bright at the prospect, as though he's never been cooked for and it's kind of a big deal to him.

"Yeah, I'm gonna make you something. Just gotta give me a second to figure out what. Seems the kitchen is fully functional... even if I'm not sure they're using it." Which is just-- weird. Makes him wonder if they're even actually on an island or if they're somewhere still on this ship, or--

Well, better to not think about it. Better to focus on coming up with ingredients for something Steven will eat.

He pauses when he notices that look and manages a small smile. "Hey, c'mon... I never said I was a great cook. Don't get your hopes too high."

But hey-- stuffed baked potatoes. That's always a winner, right? And there's enough cans of stuff to make it appealing, give it some flavor.

Too. Late. Steven is already looking up at Marc like he created beetroot and his stomach makes another approving noise at the thought of whatever Marc is going to invent next. (Nevermind that he's a few thousand years too late to be inventing stuffed baked potatoes.)

"No one's made anything for me before. I mean, outside of a restaurant of course. I suppose, you always have, haven't you? Or at least taken care of me. Every time I've opened up my fridge after a long day of work and just wanted to crawl into bed and--" Cry himself to sleep. "Call it a night. You made sure I've leftovers I thought I'd forgotten about."

Marc's actually-- really sweet. Especially when he's not too busy pretending to be an arsehole.

It's really not that big of a deal, in his opinion. He's just-- making something low effort, but something that'll get Steven through the night and he won't have to worry about surprise egg or cream or anything else in it that he won't want to eat.

He shifts a little awkwardly under that look and then-- focuses on actually making the food. Easier than dealing with the awkwardness of Steven looking at him like he's-- some sort of blessing because he remembered to leave food out. "Well, yeah. You're bad about keeping your fridge stocked, buddy. You need to get better about that."

Just a few ingredients in there, something simple to slap together maybe. Not that it's-- an issue on the ship where there's food readily available. "It was the least I could do, you know? Made your life uncomfortable enough without you starving on top of it."

"I mean you also made me think I was going mad, re-taping the door and re-doing the sand on the floor around my bed and re-strapping me in... That might've been a wee bit too much." Steven's gaze drops and he rubs his knuckles a bit, breathing in deep and slow. He would have rather been uncomfortable sleep disordering than be uncomfortable going crazy having the strangest, wildest experiences he tried to chalk up to being vivid dreams because nothing else made sense.

"I could've died never knowing you existed. That's a bit scary, innit? When all my life you've been my--" Scary, dangerous, abusive, shouty, angry, hurting, clinically depressed, traumatised, lonely guardian angel.

"...better half."

"I thought-- you'd never find out. About me, or about disappearing. I didn't want to interrupt your life, you know. Just--" Khonshu. He had his responsibilities to take care of before he could just retreat for Steven to live his life. It hadn't been fair, no, but-- Marc had thought he'd been doing him a favor.

"You've always been the better one, Steven. C'mon." He's always been the one making mistakes, failing every chance he gets.

Maybe it would have been better for Steven, never having known him.

"You couldn't've made me, if you were all that bad," Steven points out quietly. "You just-- took everything you wanted to protect and boxed it up and set it aside, that's all. I'm-- I've got bits of you inside me, always." Either the Marc that Marc wanted to be, or the object of Marc's desire. That's why he shares these similarities with Layla. Regardless, some part of Steven is Marc, and not just this body that he's stolen as his own.

"Taweret wouldn't have let you into the Field of Reeds if you're as bad as you think you are, you know." He's not particularly salty about what happened. It is what it is. He is just-- a little exasperated that Marc had a good thing and didn't just. Appreciate it and stay there. Steven would have wanted him to.

"You're too hard on yourself."

"You're maybe the only good thing I've ever done, then." The potatoes are going to need to bake a while -- and the rest of the prep won't take long, so-- he has a few minutes to come back to Steven.

It's easier to kneel down next to where he sits, look up at him so their eyes meet. "Maybe. Some of it. But you've-- become something better than I could have ever imagined, Steven. Something I couldn't ever be, no matter how hard I try. And that's-- okay. Alright? I'm not-- mad about it, or jealous, or disappointed. You're amazing. Smart and kind and I don't think you get how important you are to me. It didn't matter how much energy it took sometimes-- I still wanted to just be a fly on the wall sometimes, just watching you pour over your books or talk to Gus because..."

Shit. He's not good at the talking thing, or sharing feelings. But he's been trying with Steven more than anyone else at this point. "I didn't feel lonely, as long as you were there, and I felt like-- at least I'd done one good thing, you know?"

He reaches up to put his hand against Steven's cheek, thumb brushing over his skin lightly. "It wasn't paradise without you, okay? If they won't take you, then they're idiots anyway. Who needs peace and quiet if it means you're not gonna be there, Steven? Because-- gotta say, buddy... nice as all that was, I feel way better with you, even in these ridiculous shorts, than I did standing in that field."

He wasn't gonna be good with Steven lost to sand for eternity. Something he's loved and cherished. How could he be? "I'm always gonna choose you in the end. You got that?"

He can't really look down because Marc's occupied most of his frontal field of vision. That's probably deliberate. Steven's lingering fears and uncertainties and perceived inadequacies are easier to see from that angle. He just can't help the feeling like he's not really worth what Marc says he is, that he's the most boring person to watch go about his life. But Marc keeps saying it with the patience of a saint, and Marc sticks around even though he doesn't have to now, he can go anywhere he wants without Steven, so there must be some kernel of truth to it.

"Mmh." He closes his eyes, just feeling Marc's hand on his cheek. It's nice. It's nice to be wanted. It's nice to be able to touch. It's nice to think about a world where neither of them are so painfully lonely, where they can just enjoy each other's company, not worry about disturbing the peace with his nattering, let Marc have the occasional outburst without feeling like he has to censor himself, keep it all bottled up inside.

When he opens his eyes again, Marc is still there. Steven manages a small smile and a few nods, hands fisted in the hem of his shirt. "I would too. I mean... I'd be really tempted." And if Taweret kept trying to change his mind, he would have really struggled to walk away. But he would have, even if it meant letting her down a bit. "But if I'm going somewhere nice, you're coming with."

"I mean, it did look pretty nice..." He manages a small smile in return though, before he leans up to press a quick kiss to Steven's forehead.... and then he's to his feet to check on the food. Maybe just to avoid the awkwardness that might slightly follow a gesture like that.

"But it's a deal. We go-- wherever we're gonna go together." That's how it should be, in Marc's opinion. He doesn't want to change it up now, or leave Steven behind. You can't divorce the voice in your head and he's not interested in even trying.

For a moment Steven seems surprised by the gesture, but then he lowers his head a bit and smiles the smallest smile he can manage to himself.

"Unless it's like, eternal torment and suffering. If I get there first, you aren't allowed to follow." As if Steven could easily communicate to Marc not to follow him into the bad ending.

"You don't want to be-- giving up a nice place to go to a worse one." He doesn't want them both to be burning for all eternity or being put through some Greek god's whimsical punishment. No thank you.

"Sorry, buddy. I think we're a packaged deal now." Which means if Steven goes to eternal torment and suffering, then he's gonna follow him there. Hopefully that won't be the case.

"But let's not worry about that. We got some time to enjoy ourselves right now, right? And you're about to get fed." He hums.

"Does this count as date two?" He jokes. He wouldn't actually want to be caught dead on a date in short shorts though.

"Oohoo food! Oh, Marc, it smells amazing." Of course, leave it to Steven to just compliment everyone and make them out to be the world's greatest whatever it is they were working on. He'd sing Marc's praises all the time if it didn't make him so visibly uncomfortable.

"Well..." Normally he'd go out for a date. He can't imagine bringing someone to his flat and cooking for them, much as he loves his own place. This does feel like being invited to Marc's place though and having Marc cook for him. They don't have to be dressed to the nines for that.

"Yeah. If you'll have some, I think it does. Why? Is something supposed to happen once we go on a certain number of dates?" Nobody really explained how this works to him. He can count the number of second dates he's had on one hand.

"Relax, it's nothing special..." It's a baked potato stuffed with things he knows Steven enjoys -- or at least will eat. But it's still vaguely endearing, the way Steven wants to sing his praises. More than he wants to admit.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have some." He's maybe a little hungry himself at this point. The question has him pausing. How is he supposed to answer that?

"I'm probably not the guy to ask that one, Steven. I'm a pretty-- easy date." No sense in getting precious about something when his relationships never lasted. Layla was-- the first one that did and look how that ended up.

"Guess eventually, things progress... places."

"You made it so it's special," Steven remarks simply, because that's how it works. "Otherwise, I'm not special." Marc is welcome to try talking his way out of that trap.

Despite being hungry, Steven tries not to devour the whole thing. It's a little too hot anyway, which forces him to take a smaller bite and actually slow down enough to try and enjoy his meal.

It takes Steven a while between eating and piecing together what 'easy date' and 'progress 'places'' mean. When it clicks, Steven perks up a bit, and there's a bit of a nervous laugh, followed by awkward chewing. Is it a little strange to... 'put out' after being fed potatoes? It's not nearly that simple, is it? Nothing's really all that simple between them.

"Here's a little. Weird, for that. Lots of people around. Teenagers, in your cabin. And I-- wouldn't know the first thing. About that, honestly. Bunk bed's a little. Small..." It would have probably been less awkward if Steven could string together a coherent sentence.

He can certainly roll his eyes at that. It's not-- how it works, Steven. But he won't argue it. He'll just sit down and eat... and maybe be a little amused by Steven's reaction. "Relax."

He reaches over with a foot to nudge at him, trying to get him to relax. "I wasn't actually suggesting it, Steven."

But he'd asked what dates usually progress to and Marc had answered. "Guess they also progress to more than just dinner in general. Finding other things to do together... out of bed. Spending more time together."

Is that a little better for Steven's delicate sensibilities?

"Yeah. Course." Anyway, Marc could have his pick of any lovely lady, gentleman, alien, robot, whatever on this cruise. He wouldn't want the clingy anxious ball he curls around every night to do much more than keep the bed warm. Especially when said bedwarmer has bizarre fantasies that belong in the fictional realm and doesn't know how ugly and awkward and painful things get in real life.

"We could go for a walk by the lake," Steven suggests before he's finished chewing. Marc can make those words out so he doesn't bother being overly polite like he would have at a date.

"Make it convenient for our killer to just off us and dump our bodies," he jokes morbidly once he's finished chewing. "Dip our toes in." He's not sure if Marc's developed a phobia or anything. It probably got abused out of him in the military. But Steven is veering on the side of caution. Besides, he's a terrible swimmer himself.

More like Marc isn't going to-- push any weird, deviant desires on to the anxious ball who looks to him for protection and safety, comfort. Even if they're playing around with dates and share a bed. He's also not actively looking to land in bed right now with anyone else.

Chewing with your mouth open though... losing date points right there. But Marc gives a nod. "Yeah, sure, sounds good."

Although the joke gets a roll of his eyes. "C'mon, they couldn't take both of us. This isn't-- Friday the Thirteenth or whatever."

Hopefully.

... Marc can go in the water. Maybe he doesn't like it all that much, wouldn't be his first choice anymore to do for fun, but he hadn't had the option of just noping out in the military. He might get anxious if he sees Steven flailing around though. Dipping their toes in might be the better option... gives them time to appreciate what's probably a fake sky or something.

"You're not so bad at this date thing, see?"

Besides talking with a full mouth, that is.

"Yeah, well, it's different. I sort of know... little bits and pieces of you." And he only learnt those because they were dying, so. He doesn't want to push his luck by asking a lot more and alienating Marc.

"And you've known me my whole life. You already know I'm a huge nerd." That's always a bit of an awkward revelation on a date. He's already socially awkward. Being a huge nerd is just the final nail in the comically oversized coffin.

"Did you get-- married in Egypt?" Steven tries to broach the subject. There's no real gentle way of doing it.

"A little bit, yeah." There's the slightest smile. He definitely is a nerd, but-- it's endearing on Steven. Maybe it just comes from knowing him his whole life, being right there and watching his interests flourish.

And he'd honestly rather-- focus on how Steven lights up over archeology books or old gods than talk about that

"Mm-- yeah." He clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah, I did... we did."

Surely Steven wasn't wanting all the details, right? "It was, uh... nice."

He can't believe he wasn't there for the wedding. But, at the same time, if he was there, Marc would have blacked out and it would have been pretty disastrous.

"I would've done the same," Steven muses quietly after wiping the last bits of food off the corners of his lips with the backs of his fingers. He would have wanted it to be a wonderful day for everyone, a big celebration for Layla and her family, not-- people asking where his mum and dad are or worrying if he'll get shards of light bulb glass cutting through his foot.

"There weren't many happy doors to open in the asylum. I hope you were happy. Even if it was-- only for a little while."

Oh, sure-- there were awkward questions about Mom and Dad not being there, but he'd-- told Layla that he hadn't talked to them in years, told her in vague terms they didn't get along and he'd rather not invite them at all. Talk about something that'd ruin the big day.

"Yeah, well-- she's something else." Steven knows that. What, he'd fallen for her in five seconds flat? Which Marc isn't sure which he's angrier about... Steven hitting on his wife, someone else stealing Steven's attention away. Probably a little of column A, a little of column B.

"I mean-- yeah. I guess I was. But she never knew me. I was never-- honest about us, or about our parents, or... about anything really. It wasn't right to pull her into that." It definitely wasn't right to not mention her father either, leave her wondering and hurting when he could have at least tried to help her heal... whatever she thought of him after.

"I'm not good at being happy, but--" He shrugs his shoulders, pushes himself back to his feet to clear away whatever's left of their food.

"I feel good with you too, you know."

She rescued him from Khonshu and even though she was a little bit mean about it, what was he supposed to do? Not admire her beauty and courage and all the things they like that they seem to share?

He thinks that maybe she'd want to get to know him, when Marc's ready. It's-- probably not fair to ask her to wait. But if they ever make it out of the cruise - if the skeleton's right and they're really alive - maybe there's still a chance. At the very least, he wants things to end with Layla on a positive note. Something they can both feel bittersweet about instead of just bitter.

"I do my best..." Although he doesn't always intentionally try to make Marc feel anything. Lately he's been putting in a bit more effort, since he can't just take over for a while whenever Marc feels bad. He's quietly happy that it seems to be working.

"I met the skeleton. Mr. Pleasant? He thinks we're not dead. I d'know what to make of it. If we're not dead, I can't be here on the outside can I? Not that I could tell him that."

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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