Work Text:
Steven is finishing up his shift at the book store when Marc fronts, a stack of books heavy in his arms, Marc decides not to complain when he picks up where Steven left off, sitting them down on the cart to take a closer look at the spines. Of course Steven hadn't put them in their correct order, it was down to Marc to figure it now. He can feel the weight of his reading glasses sitting in the front pocket of his shirt, but he ignores it in lieu of narrowing his eyes to squint at the faded text. Steven would have a tizzy if he knew he wasn't wearing his glasses again, but Marc is stubborn and he continues to give himself a headache as he tries to organise the stack of books he needs to put away before he leaves.
The sky outside is dark and heavy, like it might rain, because it's London and it always rains, and by time he's finally gotten everything in it's proper order, it's drizzling out, grey clouds smeared across the dark sky and Marc grumbles to himself because Steven had forgotten to bring a coat to work, again. He leaves with his shirt hiked up over his head, offering some kind of shelter from the rain that grows heavier and cooler and once again Marc is grumbling to himself, because someone in the system doesn't have his licence so it's the long walk home for him.
The people left on the streets are thinning out as they duck into shops fronts or manage to catch the bus, it's a quiet evening in London as the cold weather draws everyone into their homes. There's a man, hauled up on a bench, wrapped around in a sleeping bag, a rollup fumbling between shaking fingers and Marc shoots him a smile.
He feels a tug at his stomach, and he guesses that Steven probably ate something green and boring for lunch and Marc is craving something with a little more substance. He makes a mental note to pay Steven back when he gets the chance as he ducks into a McDonalds where it's warm and busy inside, a stark contrast the outside world he just evaded.
There's a crowd of high school aged kids, looking a little soaked through and excitable as they await their food, their voices climb higher and higher, they take no notice of Marc waiting patiently behind them. When he's finally served, he gets himself a burger, a shake and fries-- chips, he has to remind himself, that's what they call them here. He also gets a box of nuggets and another medium chips and a Coke. He forks over the cash, the teenagers spill out into the street where they make a fuss of the rain with shrill laughter and curses being echoed down the empty street, and Marc walks back on himself until he finds the man wrapped in his sleeping bag still. The paper bag has gone a little soggy but the man doesn't seem to care when Marc holds it out to him, and he wordlessly takes it with a polite nod of his head.
"You mind?" Marc asks, voice gruff from where he hasn't really said anything in some time, nodding to the vacant space beside him.
The man doesn't seem to be put off by this as he shakes his head. Marc smiles, takes a seat beside him, feeling the rain soak through his trousers, he doesn't seem to care as he reaches for his burger, warmth touching against his fingertips, he eats his food and lets himself feel a little better.