Work Text:
“Hello, love!”
Through the haze of your grief, you vaguely registered the sound of the front door as Steven arrived home.
You tried to answer, desperately wanted to, but all that came out when you opened your mouth was an anguished wail.
You didn’t hear Steven's panicked sprint down the hallway, but you felt the bed dip next to where you were curled into a ball, crying into the stuffed hippo of the Goddess Taweret that Steven had brought you on your first date.
“Darling, can you hear me? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
A warm hand gently brushed your hair away from your face, the light touch enough to get you to open your eyes. Steven hovered above you with poorly concealed anxiety in his expression.
You managed to nod but trying to explain your tears just made you cry harder.
“Are you hurt?” The distress in Steven’s voice was obvious now.
You shook your head and tried to reassure him, but your sobs just kept coming, building until you were gasping for air.
Steven realized what was happening before you did, and pulled you into a sitting position, hands firmly gripping your upper arms and dipping his head until he could catch your eyes.
But they weren’t Steven’s eyes anymore.
Marc looked back at you. "Baby, you’re having a panic attack. It’s going to be okay but I need you to breathe, take a deep breath.”
You tried, but after only a beat of inhale, you blew your breath out in a fresh wave of tears.
“You gotta breathe with me, okay, baby? Look at me.” Marc's voice was low but firm.
You managed to make eye contact and watched as Marc made an show of taking a big breath in, raising his head in a hope you’d be able to mimic him.
It was choppy and disjointed, but you managed to breathe in the whole time Marc did.
“Good, now out.”
You followed his motions again, but didn’t make it more than a few seconds before you sniffled, breath stuttering as the tears threatened to take over.
The touch of Marc’s hand on your cheek brought your attention back to him. "You’re doing great, breathe in with me. In through your nose.”
You inhaled again, Marc shortening his inhale to make it easier for you to follow him. You were able to match his full exhale this time too, releasing the air through your nose.
“You’re safe. We’re right here, and you’re safe. Breathe in.”
This breath came easier – with only a few sniffles daring to interrupt.
“Now out, as slow as you can.” Marc instructed, maintaining eye contact with you.
Tears still rolled down your cheeks, but you were no longer sobbing as Marc gradually extended the length of his inhales and exhales allowing you to match him, slowing your breathing.
When you were almost at baseline, you closed your eyes, brows scrunching against the tears. You felt Marc grab your hand and squeeze. “If you’re going to close your eyes, squeeze my hand, alright? I want to know you’re still with me.”
You gripped Marc’s hand as you continued to calm your breathing. The boys knew sometimes visual input was too much for you when you needed to concentrate on breathing and this was the compromise you all had come up with.
Marc continued to count softly, allowing you to follow with your breath.
"Squeeze, please.” He said after a long pause.
You automatically tightened your grip on his hand at the request then felt a choked laugh bubble out before you could stop it – something tickled you about the idea of Marc Spector - former avatar to an ancient god, accomplished military man, and general bad-ass - earnestly asking you, with a straight face, to “squeeze, please”.
“That’s funny, huh?” Marc returned the squeeze while using his other hand to gently wipe tears from your face. “You said it was sweet when Steven said it.”
You smiled against his palm, huffing out a small laugh. Taking one more slow, deep breath you opened your eyes.
Marc’s eyes were on your face, intent but kind. The softness in his expression made you want to start crying all over again for completely different reasons.
"You back with me?”
You nodded, taking another deep breath, not trusting yourself to speak yet.
“You want to talk about it now or later?”
You hesitated, unconsciously biting your lip - which told him exactly what the issue was.
His expression grew dark. “Your mom?”
You nodded slowly.
It was Marc’s turn to close his eyes and take a deep breath.
When you’d first started dating Steven, before you knew about Marc and before anyone knew about Jake, you had been guarded talking about your complicated relationship with your mother. Past partners’ reactions had ranged from citing your success in life as proof that your childhood couldn’t have been that bad to outright telling you to get over it because she was your mom and you only had one of those.
Despite having a wonderful relationship with his mum, Steven understood that these feelings were complicated, and he was always willing to listen when you wanted to talk. His insights made more sense when you’d finally been introduced to Marc and gotten the broad strokes of their childhood.
Marc had left these emotionally charged discussions to Steven at first, but recently, as what little relationship you had with your mother began to unravel, Marc had begun to insist on fronting during these conversations.
“If you want to talk with me, I’m hear to listen.”
“Marc –“ you began to protest, voice raw from your tears.
“If you want Steven, he’s waiting to jump in.” He paused, leaving the decision up to you.
"No." You shook your head. "But…Marc -"
He held up a hand silencing you. “I’ll say this as many times as you need me to: Just because your mom…” he paused, taking a breath. “Just because she didn’t do the same things our mom did doesn’t mean it fucked you up any less. And just because my mom did what she did doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you now.”
Marc glanced toward the mirror above the dresser then nodded “Steven wants me to remind you your feelings are valid.” He paused, head cocked then rolled his eyes. "And justified.”
You gave them a small smile knowing Steven would understand it was for him.
“What happened?” Marc gripped your hand, bringing your attention back to him.
With your free hand, you reached behind yourself, feeling around the bed for your discarded phone. With a deep breath, you keyed in your passcode and navigated to the text message your mother had sent only a few minutes before the boys had arrived home.
You hesitated again, but looked at Marc - hand held out, ready for your phone.
You handed it over then closed your eyes and focused on taking deep breaths while Marc read.
You felt the guilt creep up – telling you you were hurting Marc, that needing reassurance from him made you a burden. The tears started to well in the corners of your eyes, your throat tightening.
Then you felt Marc’s hand squeeze yours. "Babe, I…” he trailed off and you watched Steven appear in his place.
"Fuck.” You moved to stand from the bed, but Steven gently grabbed your hands in his.
“No, love. Don’t run off. Take a breath.”
“But Marc – “
“Just needs a mo’, yeah? He’s still here. He wanted to take some deep breaths before he responded so he doesn’t say anything he’ll regret. He said you needed a hug, so…" Steven opened his arms.
You leaned in burying your face in his chest. "Steven, she – “
“I know, love." He held you tightly, hand rubbing comforting circles in the middle of your back. "We all read it. And I’m so sorry. This isn’t right, and it isn’t fair. You shouldn’t have to deal with this, but I’m so proud of you for holding on to your boundaries, for sticking up for yourself.”
“I just want…why can’t she…” You felt your throat close around the words and the tears return to your eyes.
Steven's grip on you tightened then it was Marc’s voice that sounded in your ear. “She can’t because she can't. Its as simple as that. You did nothing to deserve this and there’s nothing you can do to change her behavior. Steven is right, it’s not fair. It sucks, big time. You deserve a mom who loves you for no other reason than you’re her kid.”
You straighten up, pulling away from him and searching Marc’s face. “That’s a very insightful thing to say, Marc Spector.”
Marc shrugged. “It’s what I needed to hear; what I still need to be reminded of sometimes.”
You moved your hand to cup his cheek. “You also deserved a mom who loved you for you.”
Marc huffed a laugh. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, remember?”
You sighed. “Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t talk to her for a little while. I mean,” You hesitated, what you were about to say feeling like a betrayal. “I wouldn’t let anyone else in my life talk to me like that, treat me like that. Why do I let her?”
Marc sat still, remaining silent. He knew this was a decision you had to come to on your own. You stared at him though, feeling lost.
"You can always sleep on it.” Marc said, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a kiss on your palm.
“I don’t suppose I have too many other options in this situation.”
"We will support you in whatever decision you make.” Marc's gaze shifted for just a moment as he listened to someone inside. "I’m not telling her that.” he grumbled under his breath, pulling you in to press a kiss to your forehead.
"What does Jake suggest?” You leaned into the embrace, nestling your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of him.
“I can’t tell you – plausible deniability.”
You snorted. “Jake, behave.”
Marc held you for a few more minutes before he spoke, lips moving against your ear. “How does dinner and a show sound tonight? You want to pick something out while I start cooking?"
You nodded, pushing yourself away from him to sit up. You rolled your neck from side to side trying to release some of the tension.
“Go get comfortable on the couch." He gathered the quilt from the bed and piled into your arms. You knew the gentle smack on your backside as you moved past him was Jake's contribution.
As you settled on the couch - fluffing pillows and arranging blankets until everything was just right - Marc appeared with a glass of water. He set it on the side table and tucked you into your couch cocoon.
You found a film - a comedy Jake had recommend that you had been meaning to watch. You pulled it up, ready to go.
Not long after, Marc presented you a bowl of noodles swimming in fragrant broth as well as a steaming mug of tea - chamomile from the smell of it, your favorite tea to unwind with.
The movie played as you ate in silence, trying to keep yourself present in the moment, pressed against Marc's side and reveling in his laughter. For tonight, at least, you would forget about the message, phone left behind in the bedroom.
Marc cleared the plates, bringing back a bowl of popcorn and you snuggled against him as the movie played on.
Another 30 minutes in, you heard soft snores emanating from just above you and felt Marc's chin dip toward the top of your head.
With a fond smile, you reached for the remote in his hand right as he jerked awake.
“No, mi vida, this is my favorite part!”
You sat up, watching in amusement as Jake dramatically recited the lines of the scene with utmost sincerity. You let him go on for a moment before your laughter got the better of you.
"Hi, Jake."
He turned to you, pulling you into his lap. A knuckle under your chin raised your face to his so he could study you. "Como estas, mi cielo?” He asked softly.
“Better.” You kissed him on the cheek then snuggled into his shoulder, unable to face the sincere, loving expression on his face. “I’m sad, and angry, and confused, but I feel better than I did earlier.”
You feel Jake press a kiss into your hair. "That’s all we can ask for, mi amor." His hand at your knee began to move slowly up and down your leg, comforting. "Would you like to finish this…or should I take you to bed?"
You could hear the grin in his voice. "I thought you liked this movie?"
"I do, but we've just seen my favorite part and after the day you've had I imagine some sleep would do you good."
"Do we have to go to sleep?" You couldn't help smiling even as you blushed.
"No, mi amor. We don't have to do anything."
You slid from Jake's lap and he stood, offering you a hand. You took it and as Jake pulled you up from the couch he used the momentum to hoist you over his shoulder. He strode purposefully off towards the bedroom while you shrieked with laughter.
In that moment, you knew that whatever happened, whatever choice you made - you knew, eventually, you'd be all right.