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Since Marc and Steven had gotten separate bodies, things had been… uncomfortable between them. Unsure.
Before, they never had to worry about only having one bed, or who would choose the TV show, or physically being apart. Or having boundaries.
Boundaries were a huge, very uncertain thing. When they sat on the futon together, Marc was completely unsure of how close to sit to Steven. Would it be weirder for them to be close, since they were now separate- or weird for them to be far away since they were once together? They’d agreed (well, Steven never really agreed ) that Marc would sleep on the futon, while Steven took the bed. Marc had said it was because Steven technically bought the bed- in fact, he was the one renting the apartment.
But he knew deep down that wasn’t it. There was something about Steven that made Marc desperately want to make him happy. Steven was so different from him. He was normal. He didn’t know how to fight, didn’t know how to shoot a gun- Hell, Steven couldn’t even drive a car.
So he did most of the cooking, most of their dishes, and most of their chores when he wasn't out on the town, moon-knighting.
He was just finishing up the dishes while Steven read a book at the table, reading glasses on. Steven had tried to do the dishes, but Marc insisted .
“I don’t know why you always do that,” Steven murmured quietly, looking up from his book.
Marc shrugged. “Chores?”
Steven hummed.
“You pay all the bills, work. I have to help out somehow, don’t I?”
“You don’t have to.” He turned the page of his book. “I could at least do some of the chores”
Marc didn’t reply, just dried his hands on a rag and turned.
“What’re you reading?”
"Egyptian Art in the Age of the Pyramids by Dorthea Arnold.” Steven didn’t look up at him.
“Didn’t know you liked art.”
“Well, you need some understanding of Egyptian art to understand the mythology- right? ‘Cause, it’s very symbolic; they’re intertwined, really. You know, Kherpa rolled the reborn sun across the sky, so beetles represent, like, rebirth and renewal and-” Steven paused. His voice dropped. “That kind of thing.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He sounded almost embarrassed.
“It’s alright. I supposed I should know more about all of that-” Marc waved his hands vaguely.
“-Egyptology-” Steven supplied helpfully.
“Yeah- Egyptology. I should know more, considering..”
There was no need to say it. Not only did Steven know about Khonshu, he’d experienced him himself. He was probably the only person alive who could relate to Marc in that way.
The other gods had their avatars too, but they were different- kinder to their avatars, less demanding. They didn’t expect their avatars to kill.
Khonshu did.
Steven nodded.
“How has he been lately?”
“Not any worse than usual.” Marc knew he probably sounded (and looked) exhausted, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because he was so exhausted.
It was a lie, of course. Khonshu had worsened tenfold. At least before, he could get away from him in the headspace, or when he wasn’t being Moon Knight. Now, it’d shifted. Any chance he got (which was quite often) he berated Marc, told him how Steven was better off before he was dragged into this, how he was just a distraction, a liability. How if Steven got hurt, it would be his fault.
“That's- good, I guess.”
Marc hummed quietly, not looking Steven in the eye. He hung the rag up.
“I’m going to bed.”
Steven closed his book.
“I know you won't like this, Marc,” Steven spoke as he stood, moving in between Marc and the bed. “But you really should take the bed tonight. That futon is awful, and you look utterly exhausted-”
“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”
“I am worried about it. About you.”
“I’m okay, Steven.” His voice broke, betraying him. “I’m more worried about you. I mean, you had to go back to your job after all this. Your new body, Tawaret said-”
“You always do this.”
“Always do what?”
“Always turn the conversation on to me.”
Marc didn’t look at him.
“I’m tired- I’m going to bed.”
“I know you’re tired, that’s why you should just take the bed.”
Marc glared at Steven, who stared back at him, chin slightly raised.
“Steven,” Marc placed his hands on the other’s shoulders. “Stop it. Please.”
“You stop it. You look like you haven’t slept in a week. Take the bed.”
Marc just looked at him.
“Are you su-”
“Yes, you bloody plank.”’
Marc surrendered. He normally wouldn't have, but he had had a difficult week. He changed in the bathroom, and then made his way to the bed. Steven sat on the futon, reading his book again.
Marc sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. The bed did feel nice, much better than the shitty futon.
“Selfish.”
It was Khonshu, sitting on Steven’s work table, which was just a few feet from the bed.
“You’ve taken his bed, that he paid for, while you-”
Marc tuned him out.
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, I’m terrible.” Marc replied, moving so he sat at the head of the bed.
“Did you say something, love?” Steven called. He was pretty much only a free-standing bookcase away from Marc.
“Talkin’ to Khonshu.”
“Is everything alright?” He appeared then. He still wore his glasses, which Marc enjoyed, though he refused to acknowledge it.
“Yeah, I…” He had to force his eyes open. Steven furrowed his brows.
“Go to bed, yeah?”
“Yeah, I’m trying. Khonshu, he’s…. Not happy with me.”
Steven hummed and thought for a second.
“Why’s it that you never talk to ‘im around me?”
Marc shrugged.
“I don’t know- he usually stays away when you’re around. He doesn’t quite like you.”
“Yeah,” Steven smiled slightly, remembering before, when they were in the same body.
Marc furrowed his brow, chewing on his lower lip a bit.
“Oh my god.” He looked up to Steven with wide eyes. “When you’re around, he isn’t.” He threw the blankets off himself.
“What’re you doing, mate?”
“You’re taking the bed.”
“We talked about-”
“Yes, okay, but- listen to me.” He approached Steven. “If I sleep near you, he’ll shut up .”
“Is he- is he why you haven’t been sleeping well?” Steven was obviously concerned.
Marc sucked in a breath.
“Yeah.”
“You could’ve told me.”
Marc took in Steven. His soft eyes, his reading glasses, his comfortable-looking sweater. He swallowed.
No, he couldn't have.
“Can we- Can I sleep with you?” He inhaled deeply. “Not sleep with you, just near you. Is that okay? I mean, are you comfortable with that?”
“Yeah, of- of course. I’ll grab-” Steven pointed over his shoulder at the futon. He cleared his throat. “Blankets.”
He came back with them in hand, and Marc took them. Steven looked confused.
“There’s already blankets on the bed.”
“Yep.” Marc went to lay the blanket out on the floor beside the bed. Then he went to lay down.
"Nope, nope- Not happening, mate.”
“Well, you’re not sleeping on the floor, so unless you have another solution-”
“Share the bed? We shared a body for, what, 20-something years?”
“Something like that. Are you sure, though? I’m really okay on the-”
“Yes. It’s a pretty big bed,” Steven took his sweater off, his shirt riding up a tad to show his navel. Marc totally didn’t stare. “It’s not like we’ll even be touching each other.” He climbed into bed.
“Right.” Unless we want to, Marc thought.
Marc settled in next to Steven. He was right; they weren’t touching. But Marc could still feel the warmth of Steven’s skin.
This was nothing like sharing a body. They’d never been able to feel each other before.
“Thank you, Steven.”
Steven hummed in reply. After a while, he turned his head to look at Marc and spoke.
“Thank you for cooking and- the dishes-”
Marc cut him off.
“It’s no trouble.”
Steven shook his head at Marc, but smiled just a bit.
“You’re daft.”
Marc turned his head to look at Steven. He found himself smiling, too.
“You’re a nerd.”
“Oh, it’s lucky for you, though, innit?” His voice was slow and deliberate, just above a whisper. “Who else would tell you about Khonshu?”
“Khonshu.”
“Oh yeah?” Steven raised his eyebrows. “Thought you didn’t like that… pigeon?”
Marc hummed.
“I guess you’re better than him.”
They laughed together, quietly. Their eyes locked. Steven moved in.
Oh.
Their lips touched. It was fleeting before Steven recoiled and sat up.
“Sorry, I- Sorry. I’ll, um, move to the futon.”
Marc followed him, sitting up beside him.
“Steven .”
The way Marc said his name he couldn’t not turn.
He looked out of breath, even though the kiss had lasted less than a few seconds. Marc grabbed his hand.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think-” He said shakily.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it bloody isn’t.”
His eyes teared up slightly.
“And you said I'm daft.”
And then Marc was leaning toward him, free hand reaching up to cup Steven’s face and their lips touched again.
Marc pulled away, and looked Steven in the eyes.
Steven smiled, then sniffled. A fat tear slowly rolled down his cheek.
Marc’s brows furrowed in concern, wiping it away.
“Why are you crying? Did you not want me to-” Steven interrupted him.
“I did. I really did. They’re- It’s happy tears.”
“I make you that happy?” Marc asked in a whisper.
Steven nodded enthusiastically.
“God, yes, you do.”
Marc hummed, smiled, and leaned back in for another kiss. Steven pushed his chest back.
“Marc, you really need to sleep.”