Work Text:
It happened when Steven was showering. Right when he opened his eyes, appreciating the feeling of hot water trails running between his hair roots. He could barely see it with the thick and heavy fog clouding his vision and eating everything in the bathroom, but he spotted the movement and knew his suspicion wasn't wrong.
It was scaringly close, crawling between his filled-with-water shampoo bottle and rarely used conditioner. In other words, it was right in front of him near the showerhead, and Steven suddenly forgot how lungs work.
Give me the body.
If it weren’t for Marc's firm, reassuring voice, Steven would've probably stayed catatonic-ish till his legs gave out or that creature headed towards him. Air invaded his insides in a violent inhalation as if he was coming out of water and his body looked alive again, present and attentive to his alter's voice.
He shook his head, his straightened wet curls remained stuck to his cheeks even with the movement, water from the shower slid along them. "No, no," he tried sounding strong. He licked his moist lips and swallowed the water gathered with his tongue "I can, I can handle this, it's just a little harmless cockroach" he laughed as in: oh Marc, you worry too much, I'm not a kid. But both saw how it was not well delivered.
To prove his point, he shakily picked the bodywash up, which was dangerously close to the little guy, and squeezed some in the worn loofah hanged on the wall beside him. Showing Marc that his time in the bathroom wasn't ending soon.
Not once did his sight exclude the brown shiny bug accompanying him in the shower, though. He imagined Marc basked with the vigilance Steven couldn't contain to himself, a fear of a bug, and was thankful the mercenary didn't mention anything about it and instead kept silent.
The loofah's coarse strokes on his glistening skin got heavier and heavier, his eyes on the hairy little feet and his mind working somewhere far, thinking of the hows, ways to maneuver the creature for the next weeks(or months!), ways to be prepared even when he couldn't see it, ways to exit the bathroom right now without triggering its flight, ways to keep it within these four walls so he wouldn’t have to be scared in his own home.
Or... you won't go through all that, because I'll take care of it.
The hand on his body got heavier, refusing to move. When he looked down, he saw how red his skin had gotten and realized it was Marc preventing him from hurting himself. His cheeks grew warm, but he frowned through it "no" he repeated, noting the accompanied bathroom echo. He hung the loofah on its usual place and threw his head under the hot stream. The foamy bodywash moved down his frame and seeped from his feet and toes. He still opened his eyes to check the brown spot even when he was washing.
"I'm really thankful, love, but it doesn't need to be taken care of."
Steven. Marc called, and Steven answered with raising his head through the heavily dropping water. He saw Marc's reflection on the opposite wall, distorted from the density it may be, but it was still his imposing and frowny Marc.
I'm the only one watching this. Nobody else. He spoke. Trying to soften his voice but not knowing how.
I've been watching you all those years, and I will still do till we die. Steven's eyes zeroed on the big, bulgy hand elevating from Marc's side to where the British's own real life's was, touching it through the slippery marble. I don't care, Steven. Marc made sure to look his half in the eye, they both shared the same body and brain, but it still felt not enough, he still felt like he needed to communicate his feelings more.
Be it a giant talking crocodile or a bug, Steven, I'm not doing you a service. In other occasions the former Moon Knight would've brushed Steven's concerns off and left him to deal with it, because it wasn't life threatening, and he understood his alter has his own worries and struggles that he alone should face. But now Steven was aware of him, concepts couldn't be built wordlessly when you were two in one.
Marc's beliefs needed to be spoken of, and his personal postulates needed to be conveyed.
We're past the give and take. I'm taking care of myself, taking care of you.
Marc looked into Steven's lost eyes and tried using a language he could understand. Steven, we are soulmates. If there's anyone who you wouldn't be guilty about walking over their back because the floor is wet, it should be me.
The hitch in Steven's voice danced between the walls, his fingers mirroring Marc's own curled, and he opened his mouth, trying to voice something, but his eyes caught the dreadful movement of a flying object heading towards him and then all turned to black.
When awareness engulfed him again, Steven was in the middle of wearing a bathrobe in front of the bathroom's mirror. His body switched from relaxed and calm to twitchy muscles and speeding heart rate in an instance, continuing from what he last experienced. He turned to where he stood last time in fright but didn't see anything.
The shampoo bottle was missing, other than that, everything was in perfect shape. That, was at first glance. Because when he got closer, he could see a smudge of brown and black on the wall, half-heartedly wiped but still there.
Several minutes passed of Steven blankly staring at it.
Okay, what did I do wrong?
Marc's voice came through the silence of the room. It was night, and the lights were off. Sleep was approaching Steven as his feet peaked out of the blanket.
The brown eyes weren't visible with the lack of an illuminating light, but Marc could feel them being distant and absent.
"Nothing," the man flipped to the other side, "I'm quite thankful, I won't have to worry about heeding nature's call."
Steven, you should know by now I can always tell when you're upset. So, what did I do wrong?
It took minutes of Steven fiddling with the blanket for Marc to hear his voice again, "I don't," his alter tried articulating his words, "I can't kill bugs."
Uh...
"I know, it's ridiculous!"
It is.
"It's not that I can't, I don't wanna."
Steven, you realize you're not a princess, right?
"Screw you, Marc."
Still,
Steven flipped to his other side again, one knee raised to his chest, and one hand went under his pillow. He listened to Marc's hesitant voice. I didn't know that about you. Steven scuffed, "Why would you? I never needed to voice it before."
I thought you were scared and didn't want me to know.
"I am scared of them." This time, Steven stayed on his back, his elbow rested on his forehead as he eyed the ceiling. "But you kept asking me to front, and I didn't know how to tell you I didn't want it dead. I would’ve seemed pathetic." Like right now. Steven tried acting unconcerned, but everything in him hung on Marc's judgement.
That's what I've been trying to tell you Steven, no side of you is something for me to accept or not. All of you exist, and I'm here to take it without leaving anything behind.
"Yeah, but I'm still allowed to feel embarrassed." Steven covered his eyes with his forearm, his hip flexed from nonexistent tension, and his blanket puffed up with it.
Oh.
With a flare of shame, it was then that Marc realized Steven was his own individual, away from himself. Years of watching the man growing up, creating his life for him, and protecting him from the outside world immunized the mercenary from social life basics, sharing one body made it worse as Marc believed there is nothing about Steven that was blocked from him.
I'm sorry. His voice was faint, and Steven perked up from being pulled into sleep.
"It's ok, mate. You didn’t know."
Yeah, Marc didn't know, and for the first time Steven felt like a stranger to him. It triggered his itch to know more.