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“What about ‘Never Have I Ever’?” Marc asks, throwing a pine nut in the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. Successfully.
Steven watches his lips close after, sees his tongue darting out, licking non-existent aftertaste out and…
He should stop that.
“No,” he clears his throat and points at Marc with his index finger to look threatening, though he has a suspicion it helps him in no way. Judging by Marc’s raised eyebrow and a smug smirk stuck to his lips, he is right. “You, young man, have known about my existence for the longest and you’ve seen a lot so you already know about my ‘evers’ or ‘nevers’.”
He tries not to think too much about what exactly Marc might’ve seen.
It’s one of their shared evenings they indulge themselves with ever since they’ve returned from Cairo. He doesn’t remember which one by number and he is not sure if the evenings they just spent time together count. Yet this one is one of the special ones.
They’ve been busy, for sure.
First came the paperwork. Now, in separate bodies, they had a lot to explain as taxpayers. They had to go through all the bureaucracy because Steven insisted. Marc was just fine forging their IDs and passports because… Why not? It was easier and more simple. Yet he somehow decided to listen to Steven, which led them to coming up with a some sort of heart-breaking story of Steven being the lost twin and Marc searching for him all these years all over the world, which also led to interesting dialogs like “Why is there a former criminal record on Mr. Spector’s name?” “Oh, it was our triplet Jake. We were so shocked!”
Jake, bless his soul.
Both Steven and Marc felt somewhat guilty getting to know they had a third alter all along and never realizing that. It came by a big surprise, him, appearing once both of them were deadly close to an end from Harrow’s hands. He did a pretty good job of smashing Harrow’s head with his own scepter, and while it was pretty cool, at least in Steven’s opinion, he came not to kill Harrow, but to help them.
Steven may have pulled all three of them in a hug for a whole minute.
Jake was the one who took over Moon Knight powers, it was something all three of them agreed on.
He also was very kind to rewrite Marc’s criminal record on his own name, considering at least a small part of the list belonged to him anyway.
Maybe not that small, but hey, that doesn’t matter.
“Those boludos will never get me anyway, what’s the big deal,” he told them when they were departing their ways and ruffled Steven’s hair.
By the time Steven and Marc returned to London, after separating with Layla as well, Marc got a letter signed ‘boludos know’, so there was no mistake who’d sent it.
There were official FBI papers inside, or their copies, probably stolen. From what Marc explained to him, Jake basically did what he’d promised, so now both of them were clear on the law.
There also was a little “hasta luego xx” on the last paper which made Steven snort and Marc throw the crumpled letter away.
So there were no obstacles in making legal papers.
The second step they needed to take was to deal with their job. As for Marc, that was easy. He just applied for self-employment to have multiple possibilities to travel around the world, hunting stolen relics. He said he was at peace the most during those trips, unlike his mercenary doings or Moon Knight-ing. He didn’t say more, though, yet Steven knew he probably wouldn’t enjoy the job the same now, without Layla. Without anyone to cover his back.
As for Steven, he would be thrilled to travel with Marc if it wasn’t for the fact they would steal things from people, even if those people stole them first. He just didn’t find peace with himself at this thought.
He simply wanted to return to what he had earlier. Normal job, peaceful life. He wouldn’t mind returning to being a gift-shoppist, even though he hated it. For a reason.
Yet Marc didn’t allow him.
“What about ‘Truth or Dare’, then?” Marc asks while Steven reaches for the plate of vegan sushi Marc surprise-ordered for him. They are a true delight and later he definitely has to ask Marc the phone number of a cafe or a restaurant or whatever the hell they came from.
“Isn’t it basically the same thing?”
Marc laughs, catching another pine nut and Steven looks away from his Adam's apple, preferring to bite on his chopsticks. Hard.
Marc was adamant about Steven returning to the gift shop. Well, rather not returning. He even hit the table during a heated argument which scared the shit out of Steven. He apologized right after though, so it was okay even if it wasn’t. Steven didn’t get what was the deal, yet Marc insisted he would redo the interview for a tour guide position. And not with Donna, with the head HR of the National Gallery. When Steven reminded him he still was considered ‘insane’ for messing with the pipes, Marc shut up and brought forged papers confirming Steven’s sanity by a mental hospital somewhere in Illinois the very next day.
They had a fight.
Marc won.
They yelled at each other for some time, with Steven being strongly against using the forged papers and Marc insisting it was nothing. When Steven came close to hysterical and was about to lose it, Marc rushed to him over the coffee table they stood by and simply hugged Steven. It came as a surprise, so Steven shut up immediately, freezing in a warm embrace. He didn’t want to move at all, being so close to Marc ever since they’ve returned to London and spent their first night sharing Steven’s bed because there was no place to sleep aside from the floor and Steven did not allow Marc to sleep on the floor like a bloody animal.
Marc stroked his hair, firm hand ever so gently tangling in it, and explained in a hushed tone, “You are not insane. Neither now, nor ever. These papers will simply prove it to your future place of work so you will have equal chances with whoever applying as well. Okay? Nothing more.”
He didn’t say anything he hadn’t said before, but his whispers were so much more convincing then his screams, so Steven gave up, letting himself be surrounded by Marc’s aroma, warm breath tickling his ear.
Steven got the tour guide position.
“It’s not the same. Before you ask, ‘cause I said so. So wanna start?”
Steven kicks Marc’s leg under the table and the pine nut he just threw in the air hits his forehead.
Marc’s look, a mix of startle, confusion and pride, is worth everything.
“Now I do.”
He manages to steal a handful of nuts from Marc while thinking about what he should ask. The first one comes easy and it should work both for truth and dare. Sometimes he is so smart he amazes himself.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What’s the phone of the place you’ve ordered the sushi from?”
Marc looks surprised.
“Thought this through, huh?” Steven nods, satisfied. Marc clears his throat. Suddenly he looks uncomfortable, picking on non-existent dust on his dark jeans. “The truth is… I don’t have it. Or, rather, it doesn’t exist.”
Steven doesn’t understand, “What?”
“I made it. Myself.”
Steven stupidly moves his gaze to the sushi in his chopsticks he doesn’t get to place in his mouth and then to Marc again, “You’re joking.”
“What? No. I really did. Is it this bad?”
Steven shoves the sushi in his mouth as a reply.
“Now you’re joking,” he starts, not completely finished chewing, which earns him choking on a piece, so Marc moves closer, one hand on his chest and the other on his back, slightly tilting him forward. He gives it a couple of sharp blows and Steven feels the bloody bit move out of his respiratory tract. Marc immediately hands him a glass of water. “Thank you,” he manages, throat a bit sore from coughing. Marc’s hand moves in gentle circles on his back and Steven sips water a bit slower than he could. “God, that was horrible. Not the sushi, the cough. The sushi is amazing, I can’t believe you made it by yourself.”
He looks up and meets Marc almost nose to nose, forgetting how close they sit. Freezes, obviously, getting lost in Marc’s eyes, so much like his own, yet impossibly different.
Marc is stunned too, until he isn’t.
He moves away, quickly, returning to his place, and Steven misses the warmth on his side immediately.
“Glad you enjoyed them,” Marc picks his chopsticks, looking into his barely eaten box of spicy noodles.
He looks embarrassed, for some reason.
Steven awkwardly pours himself another glass of water, feeling like he ruined the atmosphere.
“Your turn now,” he tries.
Marc puts his chopsticks in the noodle box, “Right. Uh, truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
Steven surprises himself with his choice, feeling somehow unsettled about choosing the truth. He doesn’t know why, exactly, it may have something to do with his cowardice or the dark look Marc has had in his eyes just a minute earlier.
He tries not to think about that gaze, he really does.
He definitely does not imagine that gaze with dimmer lights, hands tangled in the soft curls, lungs out of air yet a press of someone’s lips never disappearing from his own.
Steven lickes his lips which suddenly feel really dry.
“I dare you,” Marc’s voice pulls him out of wherever he is stuck in his thoughts. “Hell, I don’t even know. I dare you to send a picture of all of this,” he makes a wide gesture with his hand, pointing at the table and them both, “to Jake and Layla.”
“They’re gonna kill us.”
“They absolutely will. Do it.”
Steven pulls out his phone, but instead of a picture, he starts recording. He tries to make it short, yet keeps returning to Marc’s smug face and then back to food, mumbling something about how delicious it is and what a pity they are not here.
He knows Layla still walks on knives with Jake, having not known him completely, unlike Marc or even Steven, but the group chat they created on one of the messengers helps somehow. It was his idea after all, the group chat, so it should help. Even though both Layla and Jake are mostly absent and Steven is basically the one keeping the chat alive, it’s still nice getting news from them sometimes, or pictures of places they are now.
It may be just a little bit less heart-warming than the postcards Marc sent him signed by his mom’s name but only because Steven’s heart is the fullest to everything that concerns Marc.
He sends the video and adds a little “Marc dared me xo” at the end.
“It is the most dangerous thing you could ever dare me to do. You do realize they’re 90% on a mission or whatever and totally hungry?”
“Yep.” Marc pops the last letter like a chewing gum bubble, reaching for one of Steven’s sushi, despite Steven’s protest. “Damn, maybe vegans know something, this shit is delicious.”
“You just say it ‘cause you’re the one who made it.”
“Am I wrong though?”
Steven really wants to poke him with a chopstick. He throws a pine nut instead, one of a few left from the handful he stole earlier.
“Hey!” Marc mockingly yells when it hits his shoulder or something. “My mouth is higher.”
Steven really wants to say he knows it, for fuck’s sake. He knows. He specifically does not concentrate on it.
His and Marc’s phones buzz at the same time.
Layla 19:43
youre so dead
“Rest in peace, Steven,” Marc jokes, but then his phone buzzes again.
Layla 19:43
both of you
Jake 19:44
double that, you piece of shit
Layla 19:44
no turkish delights for you ever again
Jake 19:44
can i have some?
Layla 19:44
yes
Steven 19:45
Can I have some too?
Layla 19:45
No.
They continue to bicker for some time, with Marc occasionally throwing in comments like “wish you were here”. It finishes with Layla sending a picture of her middle finger (Steven compliments the new nails design) and Jake saying he’s gotta go.
Marc continues to fuss over the little chat when Steven notices two new private messages, one from Layla, one from Jake.
Layla 20:01
next time record the food not marc
Jake 19:59
decíselo, amigo
Steven doesn’t reply.
Marc apparently notices his state.
“You alright?”
“Yeah, just miss them,” Steven finds a suitable answer. “Truth or dare?”
Marc studies him for a good moment, “Truth.”
The light mood of earlier feels a little bit lost, so Steven decides maybe he can ask something more personal. Something that's been bothering him for some time now.
“Why did you want me to claim the tour guide position?”
Marc doesn’t reply. At first.
He shifts uncomfortably and Steven feels it as clear as if he is in Marc’s skin. Marc doesn’t want to answer. Steven didn’t want to ask. But he needs to know.
“Because you need to bore someone with your historical facts?” He tries and Steven knows he’s not serious but throws a nut anyway. Marc catches it with his hand. “Sorry.”
He takes another moment, turning Steven into a sitting tightened string.
“Because you deserve this. What you don’t deserve is an unfair boss, like Donna, who ignores all your requests. Who doesn’t even want to interview you for a tour guide even though the Gallery needs it. Well, needed. Steven, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You deserve everything good in this world and this world doesn’t even deserve you. I just wanted to prove to you that you’re so much more than you think. I am sorry for yelling at you, I am sorry for forging the papers without asking, I am genuinely sorry. But my intent was never to hurt you or offend you, okay?” Marc sits straighter, unconsciously moving closer. Steven notices his eyes glistening in the dim lights of their old apartment. “I did it because I care about you. I know I am not the best at expressing my feelings and I hurt people, like I hurt Layla and I hurt you, but I am trying. I am learning from my mistakes.”
Steven’s chest feels so tight and there’s something stuck in his throat he can only whisper, “Truth.”
“What?” Marc’s confusion is written all over his face.
“Truth or dare. Truth,” he demands.
“Okay, Steven. Tell me the truth.”
The string snaps.
“I love you.”
Marc holds his gaze, unblinking, eyes full of storm that never comes. Steven doesn’t understand if it’s a storm after a long, long drought or another disaster destroying everything in its way. He doesn’t understand, until Marc whispers, “Dare.” He doesn’t know if it’s his eyes, his voice, the way he sits or whoever knows what fucking else. He only knows what he should ask.
“Kiss me,” his voice trembles.
“Gladly.”
Marc moves closer and pulls Steven in a hug, letting their lips meet.
For a moment, there’s nothing. They don’t move, frozen in time, their lips barely touching, they feel each other’s breath, both breathing like a cornered animal, brows furrowed, eyes closed.
And then, there’s everything. Marc moves his lips against Steven’s, and Steven feels the desperate need to cling to Marc as if his life depends on it, Marc’s curls as soft as he imagined, his hand leaving creases on Marc’s shirt.
Marc hand cups his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, and when he presses to deepen the kiss, Steven has no objections.
His skin burns everywhere Marc touches him and his lips are almost literally on fire, yet he doesn’t mind burning alive at this cost, and when he feels Marc arousal with his thigh, all he can do is moan right into the kiss they share.
Marc’s grunt is almost animal.
“Bed?” He groans, their foreheads pressed against each other.
“Bed,” Steven nods.
Next few moments he barely remembers, registering only Marc’s lips on his own and indecent noises they make. And also a sharp pain when his leg meets the edge of the bed and he accidentally bites Marc’s bottom lip.
Marc hisses but does not express any discontent, pulling Steven’s shirt up instead and tossing it somewhere on the floor, trousers following. Both his and Marc’s, by a shared demand. He then lowers himself on the bed, pulling Steven in his lap, both letting out a moan feeling each other’s erection, still clothed by underwear.
Marc pulls away a bit, peppering kisses on Steven’s jaw, cheekbone, a little peck on the nose and Steven giggles.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do something like this,” he sounds a bit out of breath and Steven snorts.
“For the same time I have?”
“Longer, babe.”
Steven melts from a simple nickname.
“Look at you, so soft and lovely and cute,” Steven teases, taking Marc’s face in his hands, images from their first meetings flashing in his mind.
Marc’s eyes flash with something devious and he rolls his hips, erection pressing against Steven, and he is so unfair and it feels so bloody nice Steven turns to half-liquid state and slumps on Marc’s shoulder, breathing hard against his neck.
Marc shudders.
1:1, git.
He then proceeds to lower Steven on the bed, so damn gentle and careful, yet so fucking strong, hovering above, mouth busy with leaving trails of kisses down his neck, one hand supporting his weight and the other reaching for the nightstand.
“Under the bed,” Steven reminds him or simply tells, he isn’t sure if Marc knew that back when they shared the body.
Marc grunts into his neck and Steven shivers.
He lifts himself to reach under the bed and get the lube bottle and some of his joints click with a soft ‘pop’ and Steven can’t help giggling.
“I hate you,” he throws the bottle somewhere on the bed (within reach, though) and returns to Steven, who welcomes the warmth, pulling Marc in a kiss.
They’re so much closer like this, yet nowhere close enough to perfection and bloody underwear is still in the way, so Steven tugs on it slightly, whispering “Take it off”.
Marc obeys.
His long fingers trail down Steven’s leg, removing the fabric and Steven shivers though he is not sure whether it’s Marc’s cold hands or his gentle touch.
When Marc presses a kiss against his hip, so damn close, Steven knows the answer.
He is bordering on whimpering with Marc pressing kisses here and there and nowhere near where he should be, his hips rolling without his control and his hand reaching for Marc’s curls.
“Please.”
Marc looks up, eyes blissfully flattering from Steven’s touch, and nods, licking his lips before closing them around Steven’s cock.
The feeling is ascending.
Marc is either simply skilled or he is very full of himself, but his movements are confident, never giving Steven a moment to take a breath, moving up and down, tongue swirling around his cock’s head, licking out pre-come, every drop of it, his hand helping where he can’t swallow Steven fully, and Steven feels he is way too close to coming, lost in moans and whimpers, hand tangled in bedsheets and the other is in Marc’s soft curls, tugging gently, begging for more, when Marc suddenly moves away, returning to his lips.
“Hold on a bit, okay?” He dares to ask when Steven is nothing but exposed nerves and so close, but Marc reaches for the lube so it’s a good thing, probably.
He warms it between his fingers and moves down, spreading Steven’s legs, placing one finger inside, slowly. Curles it the absolute way Steven likes, whispers all the love words in the world he can remember and Steven is simply not strong enough and when he comes, Marc’s name is on his lips and Marc’s lips are on his lips as well.
“More,” he manages, “please, darling, more.”
Marc, a good soldier, obeys the order again, continues to fuck Steven even through his orgasm, adding second finger to the sweet torture, opening him for what to follow.
When he hits the right spot and Steven still is oversensitive from earlier it’s as if everything around explodes, leaving nothing but Marc and him and, oh God, the third finger.
Maybe he is too impatient but when Marc finally, finally removes his fingers and thrusts in with his cock it feels like an eternity has passed, or maybe it was a single moment.
Marc’s moans are the sweetest sounds in his life and he tries to catch every single one of them, echoes with his own, every thrust is, forgive him for pun, right on spot, and when Marc’s movements become more erratic, Steven knows he is close, he feels his second orgasm building as well and everything’s too much and it’s so good, and when Marc’s hand starts stroking his cock in rhythm he can’t hold it anymore.
Marc comes right after, his whole body trembling as he lowers his weight on Steven completely, still inside, and Steven is so sensitive he literally hisses every time Marc moves, but doesn’t let him go, he doesn’t want him out.
His throat feels sore though he doesn’t even remember himself saying anything, only Marc’s endless and needy “babe, babe, babe” and probably Marc doesn’t remember what he was moaning himself, yet Steven remembers.
It’s okay.
Once their breaths are less chaotic, Steven finds Marc’s lips once again and can’t help smiling into a kiss. He feels Marc’s smile as well.
“Love you, oh God, I love you so much, Steven.”
“I thought love confessions come before sex, not the other way.”
“Can’t see why it can’t be both.”
“Fair.”
They laugh and then spend a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence, slowly making out, blissful and undisturbed, until Marc stops, looking Steven in the eyes as if both life and death depend on it.
“What?”
“Layla and Jake are gonna kill us again.”
Steven ruffles Marc’s hair just to express his annoyance. They’re having a moment and this git. Ugh.
“What? Did they spam you with ‘you better tell him’ as well?”
Instead of a reply, Marc grunts and moves, finally pulling out, leaving Steven so, so empty, and reaches for his jeans, left somewhere on the floor. Steven honestly doesn't remember taking them off. Marc pulls his phone out, searches for the dialogue he needs and turns the screen to Steven. It's so bright it takes a moment to concentrate on the little text clouds. He notices the end of a discussion about a price of some antique piece or something, with Marc sending Layla a contact details, and it certainly is not what Marc meant to show him, so he looks down, at the last message.
Layla 20:01
stop looking so dovey-dorky in love its disgusting. just tell him or ill do it myself
Steven smiles and types something really quick, putting Marc’s phone away.
“What did you send her?”
“Nothing. You’ll see in the morning.”
“Yeah? You don’t want to return my phone?”
Steven smiles, an idea already forming in his head, “You can try and get it.”
They forget about the phone not even a minute later.
***
Marc 22:29
He did, thank you.
P.S. He looks adorable!
Steven xo
Layla 03:05
holySHIT
Layla 03:05
i AM TELLING JAKE
Jake 04:10
por fin you fools
Marc 10:39
you two are the worst
Marc 10:39
we demand turkish delights as an apology