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Marckus is well aware that he has… issues, and that dating him comes with a veritable obstacle course of challenges that most people would immediately flee from. His daddy issues alone are enough to make most people run in the opposite direction. Yet Kitten somehow manages to take all of it more or less in stride. Kitten manages to keep them all together, to handle D, to look after Boy, to tolerate Marckus.
Hell, right now, Kitten is busy making them all dinner, while Marckus sits at the table uselessly. He supposes technically going over notes from their most recent hunt isn’t useless, but it is still a more personal endeavor. It isn’t a chore, it isn’t a contribution to the family, it's… self indulgent, selfish even. He is selfish, always letting his fiancé take care of the chores while he can’t even be bothered to put his own dishes away. Fuck, Kitten deserves so much better than him.
“Marckus?” a soft voice says, a gloved hand gently grasping his shoulder.
Marckus startles a bit, looking up to meet his fiancé’s concerned gaze. He sighs and laughs awkwardly. “S-sorry, luv.” Marckus says almost shyly. “Zoned out for a minute there.”
“Everything alright Marckus?”
Marckus looks away, debating with himself. He knows, he knows, logically, that he should talk to Kitten–that he should communicate with his partner–but he really doesn’t want to burden his fiancé with his insecurity. Still...
“I just–thanks for putting up with me, love.” Marckus says with a sad smile.
Kitten scoffs to himself. "I don’t ‘put up with you,’ Marckus. I love you."
"Yeah, but I know I don’t make it easy," Marckus argues. He looks away, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don’t make anything easy."
Feeling his chest ache, Kitten’s brow furrows. He’s known Marckus since they were about Boy’s age–more than half their lives. Even if Marckus and his family were gone for a good chunk of that time, he and Marckus have still been together for seven years now. He knows when Marckus is in a bad place mentally. He can see it written all over him, especially as Marckus tries to hug himself, tries to get smaller, to feel less vulnerable. He can see it in the self deprecating smile and sad avoidance in his eyes. He’s seen Marckus here before, he’s been there himself once or twice.
Kitten pulls a chair in front of Marckus and yanks his gloves off as he sits down in it. He pushes his ski goggles up and his balaclava down, wanting to make sure Marckus can see and feel him. He takes his fiancé’s face in his hands, his thumbs swiping over the taller man’s freckled cheeks as he gently guides him to look him in the eye.
"Marckus, love isn’t easy. It’s messy, and complicated, and sometimes it’s hard—but it’s worth it.” Kitten tells him, leaning closer. “ You’re worth it, Marckus."
“I-” Marckus pauses, trying to find the right words. “I just feel like you deserve more. You deserve better.”
Kitten rolls his eyes fondly. “Marckus, you may not always put your dishes in the sink, or your clothes in the hamper, but you’re someone I can always count on to have my back, whether it's against a bunch of vampires, or my own brothers.” Kitten says confidently.
Marckus huffs and the corner of his lip twitches up.
Kitten smiles at his fiancé’s. “I don’t want ‘more,’ Marckus. I don’t want ‘better.’ I just want you .” he states earnestly. “You’re already more than enough for me.”
Kitten presses his soft lips against Marckus’s dry ones, his hands cradling his fiancé’s face like it's the most precious thing in the world. The kiss isn't long but it isn’t brief either. It's firm and measured and full of love. Marckus’s face heats up as Kitten pulls back for just a moment, sighing softly, before going back in to press their lips together again.
As they brake apart, Marckus laughs, a soft, wet sound, accompanied by a slight cough at the end as he tries to clear his throat. He smiles at Kitten and wipes the tears from his eyes.
“I-Thank you, love. I-I needed that.” he says, taking a deep breath.
"Of course, Marckus." Kitten says, pressing a kiss to his fiancé's forehead before getting back to stirring the pot of stew.