[Closed] When I get lost, dear, I'm not alone

[justneedsomehelp]

Who: Marc Spector and Steven Grant
What: Catching up.
When: Post-camping.
Where: Their cabin.
Warnings: Potentials for general poor mental health, unnatural codependency, and some slightly uncomfortable affections? Will update/clarify if needed.

After a shower washing off the remnants of that whole camping experience, plus maybe a drink or so before he ever even came back to their cabin, Marc is finally feeling a little more like himself. A little less certain that there's a killer waiting around the corner for them. No monsters under the bed, surely. It'll just be whatever personal demons that might have him jarring awake or moving restlessly in his sleep. But that's-- just life.

He brushes back his hair, slips into a pair of underwear and then...

He takes a moment to make sure Ammit is nicely tucked away in the drawer. He's still paranoid over that. They're sitting on an actual god for all he knows... and while that means she's not a threat back home, he has no idea if it means she is here or not. But the ushabti is still in there, undisturbed as usual. Good.

After that, he's crawling into bed and unceremoniously sprawling himself out on his stomach next to Steven. One arm pillows his head to keep it angled up to look him, the other slides around his middle loosely. "C'mon, man. put the books away. Getting late."

... It's probably not okay, just how much more at ease he feels with Steven back at his side, in his room. It's not the same as hiding behind him, letting him front in the body, but... it's still a comfort in a very real way. Something he missed at camp, no matter how often they met up or hung out or whatever. It feels like he can breathe again, now that Steven is back near him, back where he can hope to keep an eye on him and keep him safe.

Comments

[latersgators]

He can't sleep or eat or drink or sleep for Marc anymore, unfortunately. He could sit with him, pet him, feed and water him, shave him, but it's not really the same. And he knows it's hard. He's been having a hard time himself. But he's not sure popping pills or drinking himself to oblivion is the answer. And they can't both be doing that, anyway.

"Okay. We won't talk to anyone then." Marc has to want it in his own time. Steven doesn't want to push him, or drive him to acting out and hurting himself again. It was so distressing to see him like that, even if it might be helping him in the long run.

His hand drifts from Marc's hair to his lower back as Marc pulls him in so close that a sneeze would make them inadvertently kiss, and he gives Marc a few slow reassuring lower back rubs. Tipping his head up, breaking forehead contact, Steven kisses Marc on the forehead while his hand stays splayed over his lower back.

"Think you could sleep tonight without any help?" Marc's-- really warm, actually. And Steven's presence likely isn't helping. But he's hoping that if he needs something to get some sleep, it won't be anything more than turning the AC down a couple degrees and, if required, a bedtime story.

[justneedsomehelp]

"... You can. I'm not-- gonna stop you." It's Steven's life, and he wants that to be clear. But he's not putting himself back in that position again. He's not revisiting all that shit again. It's not gonna help.

Maybe he should be discouraging stuff like this too. It's gonna be hard for Steven to strike out on his own if they're-- cuddling in bed, if Steven is kissing him... even if they're just chaste little pecks on the forehead. He doesn't though. He shifts enough to hook a leg in between Steven's with a soft laugh.

"Oh, I'm not moving," he promises. "And neither are you from the looks of it."

... Mostly because Marc's pretty sure he's made that one pretty impossible. There's a bit of a smile as he tilts his head back, meets his eyes.

"I think I can manage some sleep finally. Didn't get much while we were camping... I'm beat."

[latersgators]

"It's your life, Marc. I can't. I won't." It's not for him to say anything and-- well he's happy to talk about what he's been doing with his bits of life. The museum. Gus. London. But not anything about their much more distant past.

"Yeah. I didn't much enjoy it, in the end. Not if the alternative is this." He wouldn't have minded camping if that was all he had available. There are much worse alternatives. But there wasn't much alone time to cozy up with Marc, check in on him, eat together and try new things together. The bathroom situation wasn't that ideal either.

Most of all he was just worried for a lot of the trip. Everyone was adamant there was going to be a bloodbath and the unhealthy levels of codependency between them got to be too much to bear that Steven couldn't stand to be alone for too long. Now he's got his books there and he's got his Marc here and maybe he can sleep a little easier too.

"Get some sleep, alright? We can talk more in the morning."

[justneedsomehelp]

"Mm..." There's the barest hint of a smile. "Careful, buddy. You trying to get me to swoon with all that sweet talk?"

But it was-- a lot. Being separated still felt wrong in ways Marc wasn't good at articulating -- not that he was all that great at articulating anything at all really. Not unless he was cornered into it. At least this-- eases it somewhat. Being alone, tucked away.

Maybe he can actually get some decent sleep tonight.

"Yeah... yeah, okay. Good night, Steven."

[latersgators]

"Only you would swoon over me..." Steven ducks his head and smiles a bit before reaching down for some blankets to pull up and over Marc's tummy, keeping their legs warm. They won't be able to sleep in such a ridiculous configuration all tangled up in each other but they'll eventually settle on a good compromise, with Marc's head tucked in against his chest and an arm still wrapped around Steven holding him close.

Thankfully they're too tired for any midnight whimperings about mum or any excited exclamations of each other's names. Or worse - any kind of exclamation over Layla. Marc will just find Steven latched onto his hip like a barnacle, hand frozen mid-soothing motion of his thumb stroking Marc's waist.