Chapter Text
Marc was pretty light on his feet. He had a habit of moving around spaces like he was trying to avoid being noticed. It had taken her some time, and more than a few accidental jump scares, but she’d learned how to hear him coming.
Or, perhaps, he’d finally realized he didn’t have to make himself a ghost. Not around her, not in their apartment. Maybe it was a bit of both. Either way, she could hear him coming in the mornings now. She hadn’t lost that skill when they were separated.
“Morning,” Layla said. “Did you sleep okay?”
His footsteps stopped just behind her. Before Layla could glance over her shoulder, one careful arm wrapped around her waist. When she didn’t protest, he pulled himself closer to her, wrapping both arms around her and resting his cheek against her shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked. She got a hum in response. He felt heavy against her, like something was trying to drag him down. “Not up to talking today?” Another hum, this one a bit more affirmative. “Anything you need?”
He shook his head against her back before turning his head to kiss her shoulder. It was such a warm gesture–a familiar one. One she hadn’t felt in a while.
He’s reaching out again.
Layla leaned a little closer, carefully taking one of his hands. “I’m going to finish breakfast,” she said, “and after that, we can…go back to bed? Read something, if you want?”
Marc nodded.
Quiet day in, then. Not that she minded. They hadn’t had one of those in a while. It’d be a nice change of pace.
He woke up to an ache in his chest and a void flooding his mouth. He knew, even before he tried, that speaking wasn’t going to happen today. He doubted much of anything was going to happen today, unless one of the others decided to step in. Seeing how Steven was finally getting a day off in the middle of the holiday rush, and Jake was coming off an overseas Khonshu job that had only been characterized as “Mardripoor >:(“ in the notebook, all signs pointed to no.
That was okay. He was getting better at resting. He could do it enough for the three of them now.
Something about seeing Layla in the kitchen, just getting coffee like nothing was wrong, reminded him of old days…simpler days. He was still hesitant to approach her; they were doing better, so much better, but he still felt like he wasn’t allowed to be doing this. Not after all the shit he’d pulled.
But she didn’t pull away. So he held her close. Pressed his face into her neck and just breathed. Let the peace and quiet of the situation settle over him. The awareness that he wouldn’t have to say a word until he was ready. Layla would understand.
She always had.