In Triplicate (Moon Knight)

[Mercury]

It's been so long since I've posted here. About 4 years, actually. And I come bearing my latest obsession: Moon Knight! This has been stuck in my head and I've had to get it out. It's probably going to have hints of jake!reveal and I'm aiming for this to be in 3 parts (hence the title), with this part being Marc, the next being Steven and the last part being Jake. Sneezefic skills are a bit rusty, so I apologise for the awkwardness.
Little bit of mess in this first part, but not excessively. Also a general warning for Marc's issues (to put it lightly).

 

In Triplicate 1/3

Marc shot upright in the bed with his heart thumping, a nightmare nipping at the heal of his brain. He hadn’t experienced this type of fear for a while, as it wasn’t often that he was the first one awake. That honour usually went to Steven. When the adrenaline faded Marc began to feel that something was wrong and the sensation of being in control of the body caught up with him. There was a persistent and painful pressure that seemed to exist throughout his whole skull, probably a result of his sinuses being completely blocked. He swiped his wrist under his nose and grimaced at the slick trail it left behind.

 

After they had gotten back from Cairo, they had tried to create more balance between who was fronting in the body and who was back-seating. However, Marc was too used to Steven being in control that the daily routines of eating, bathing and existing had started to overwhelm him, and so he’d surrendered the body to Steven for a few days in a row.

 

Being suddenly and unwillingly up front in a body that was unwell was very jarring, and all he wanted to do was reflexively curl back into their head space.

 

‘Steven?’ Marc croaked before he cleared his throat and swung his legs off the side of the bed. There was a mirror placed there, one of many they had added to the apartment, and he searched for something, someone, in his reflection. There was no way this was only day one of this cold, but Steven hadn’t seemed sick the day before. He remembered the Brit being cheerful and full of energy, humming to himself and chatting to Marc about some exhibit that was coming to the museum. He definitely hadn’t looked anything like the red nosed, pale man who was staring back at him now.

 

‘Steven? Are you in there?’

 

He placed a hand to his chest and shut his eyes while he searched around in the back of his mind. He could feel that Steven was just dormant and sleeping, and it calmed him more than he’d like to admit to know that the alter was still around if not immediately accessible.

 

Marc rubbed the side of his nose with a knuckle to try and abate the itch that was starting to build. He supposed that if he was to be in control of the body then he should go about his day and try to sort things out in case Steven wanted to take the body when he woke. His breath hitched and he quickly moved his hands away from his face so they wouldn’t get messy as he gritted his teeth against the inevitable.

 

‘Hut’Tishhoo! H’Rushhh!’

 

He snuffled the mess back where it came from and cleared his throat again before he grasped for his phone, one that was in Steven’s name and much more modern than his work burner. The light of the screen assaulted his eyes, still watering from the force of his sneezes, and it took him a moment to focus on the date and time. It was late Sunday morning, and the last Marc could remember was Thursday evening and Steven cooking something meatless and overly complicated. He hadn’t retreated that far back and given up that time willingly, so someone must have blocked him out.

 

‘Dabbit, Steben.’ He ran his hands down his face before pushing his curls away from his forehead and making another attempt to sniff his sinuses clear. He should probably shower, as it would help with the congestion and faint prickling of goosebumps that skittered across his skin, but he didn’t think he could do it. He knew himself well enough to know that being under the water in that tiny cupboard they called a bathroom was not something he could power through when he already felt like shit.

 

It took two tries to stand from the bed, but he managed to rise and shuffle over to the cupboard where he pulled on a thick hooded jumper before heading into the bathroom to search their bathroom cabinet for anything that could help. He and Steven had different preferences for deodorant, toothpaste and pretty much everything else, so the cupboard was so full of other necessities that there wasn’t much room for medicine, but there were a few painkillers, packets of something called Lemsip and a bottle of liquid. The liquid was apparently almost the same as Nyquil except that it had a weird name and was expired.

 

He took everything to the kitchen where he put the kettle on and leant his back against the bench so that he didn’t have to focus on keeping himself upright. He put the bottle to his lips and took a deep swig of liquid that threatened to come back up before it even finished going down, but he pressed the back of his fingers against his lips and waited for the sensation to pass before taking two pills and chasing it with another mouthful.

 

Marc knew he’d swallowed much more than the instructions said he should have, but expired medicine always worked like shit unless you chugged it. He was even tempted to follow it up with some bourbon from his secret cubbyhole, but he didn’t have the energy to rearrange the furniture necessary to reach it.

 

While he waited for the water to boil he grabbed a pen that hung from the fridge and scribbled a note on the pad that they had stuck to the door. How the fuck did we get sick? Thurs-Sun?? He was about to add an exclamation point when his body took a sharp inhale and he had to turn his head over his shoulder and away.

 

‘Hu’RRUSsshh! RrESSSHHhtt!’

 

‘Blesses.’

 

Marc scrubbed his sleeve against his nose and looked blearily at the mirror they’d placed on the bench, right next to the fridge. Steven’s face started back at his, his hair a mess of curls that flopped over his forehead and sleep in the corners of his eyes, he looked well and well rested and Marc hated him for it. The alter’s eyebrows were pitched up and together with concern, and he pulled his sleeve over his hand and tried to clean the mirror’s surface from the wrong side.

 

‘It wouldn’t hurt you to cover those, mate.’

 

Marc rolled his eyes, and snuffled into his jumper. ‘This is my home, where I live by myself. Alone. Where nobody can catch this from me.’

 

‘Yeah, but I’m here, and it’s polite innit?’

 

He waved a dismissive hand at the reflection before he turned his back to his other half. His head gave a painful throb, his vision swum and he most definitely didn’t pout as he sloshed hot water into a mug. ‘You know what else is polite? Asking how someone is before nagging them.’ He threw the Lemsip stuff in and turned back to the mirror. ‘A little warning would have been nice too, how long have you been coming down with this?’

 

Steven’s eyebrows rose even further. ‘I haven’t been. Felt fine when I went to bed.’

 

‘No, no, the congestion, the...’ he gestured to his nose with his free hand, ‘everything is too much for it to be the first day of this cold.’

 

‘Don't know what to tell you then.’

 

Marc wandered back into their bed space, knowing Steven would follow him in the reflections. He took a mouthful of his drink, glad for the heat and the fact that his nose was too blocked to taste whatever it was. He didn’t know exactly what it was supposed to do, but it did seem to loosen something and his nose started to run fast and thick. He sniffled and scrubbed at his nose, but the moment he touched the swollen appendage his breath hitched again.

 

‘Huh’ETCHHhhh! H’RETTCChhoo! ESSHHHOO! Fuck!’ The motion had spilt his drink over the rim of the mug and onto his foot. The heat wasn’t too bad, but he had already stumbled into Steven stupid ring of sand that he insisted on keeping up, and said sand was now stuck between his wet toes.

 

‘Blesses. Again.’

 

Marc ignored him, in favour of taking a deep breath through his mouth and releasing it just as slowly. He remembered the early days of dating Layla, and the fever that had been the first time she’d seen him vulnerable. It had only taken a day before he’d driven her away, her screaming that she hoped he’d roast himself alive. She’d come back a few days later to find his hotel bathroom flooded and him staring into an overfull bath of cool water that he knew would bring his fever down, if he could just manage to climb in.

 

She’d felt guilty for a good while after that, and he felt guilty still.

 

‘Thagks, Stebed.’ he croaked as his face burnt from shame at the memory and the mess he was currently in. He tried to clean his face up with his sleeve, which earned a tsk from the man in the mirror that may have been of sympathy or disgust, Marc wasn’t sure. He placed the mug down on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed again.

 

‘There’s a hanky in that draw if you need it.’

 

Mark looked up to Steven, who was crouched in front of the bed’s reflection to put them at a similar hight. Judging from the expression on the Englishman’s face, Marc figured he must look as close to crying as he felt. He took a shaky breath and tried to push everything he was feeling away. ‘I dob’t. I’b sick, dot geriatric.’

 

‘Oi! Lots of people still use hankies, myself included.’ Steven ran a hand through his hair, messing up the curls instead of pushing them back like Marc did. ‘Look, we don’t have any tissues, but there’s a spare loo roll you could use, just remember to replace it this time.’

 

‘I told you, thad wasd’t be.’

 

‘Well it bloody well wasn’t me.’

 

‘I’b… Fuck, I’b dot habing this argubent again.’ Marc pinched the bridge of his nose and kept a hand over the mess as he levered himself up and then immediately pitched to the side. His hands gripped the bed, but his knees hit the floor. It was probably a good thing he didn’t have that bourbon because the room was spinning on its own.

 

‘Marc, are you alright? What’s going on? Do you need me to take the body?’

 

He shook his head and waved a hand in the vague direction of the mirror. ‘I can handle this.’ He shifted his crouching position around and used the edge of the bed to crawl to the bedside table. There was, indeed, a handkerchief in the top draw and he didn’t bother unfolding it before he pressed it to his face and blew his nose, which made the most disgusting sound he’d ever heard.

 

‘Sorry,’ he whispered.

 

‘Hey, it’s alright. Just let me help.’

 

Tears pushed behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut. He was used to doing this alone, even when he was with Layla he had always been alone when he was sick, and it was stupidly comforting to know that he never would be again. He didn’t even finish nodding before he felt his arm move in its own. He was still in front and in control, but Steven was directing the body to pull itself up and crawl back onto the bed. They dragged the handkerchief and an annoying amount of sand with them, but Marc didn’t care as Steven shuffled them under the covers and tucked them both into it’s warm embrace.

 

His nose prickled again, but he was out and asleep before it could manifest into anything else.

Edited June 14, 2022 by Mercury

[Wolfwings22]

This is pure perfection 😍 I’ve reread it at least a couple dozen times and each time I fall more in love with it. I’m so happy to see other people writing Moon Knight fics too! I can’t wait to see what happens next! Definitely anxiously waiting for the next part! Awesome job!

[Prongs]

I love!!! You wrote their dynamic perfectly, steven would totally be concerned and helpful like that. Can’t wait for more!

[angora48]

Ooh, fantastic! Loving this story. I really like the concept of doing one chapter for each alter—the title is perfect!—and I’m really excited for parts two and three. I love the little details of the progression of their relationship/cooperation, like how they’ve put mirrors everywhere and have a notepad for leaving each other messages. The hints of Jake’s presence are good too.
 

Marc’s perspective was great, all cranky and bickering. Can’t wait for Steven and Jake’s parts!

[Mercury]

Wooo! Here is part 2, with Seven fronting now. It's longer than Marc section, and I had to physically stop myself from writing more because I love Steven, and I love Steven being miserable, but in a good way lol.

Enjoy!

 

 

In Triplicate 2/3

Steven woke and was immediately sneezing. He flailed his hands for a moment, unsteady and confused before he brought them to his face so fast that he almost bopped himself in the nose. Each post-sneeze gasp turned into another hitch, and he sneezed at least six times before his body took pity on him and stopped. Steven could feel the mess on his hands and face, and he had to take a moment and sit dizzily before he could edge himself out of the bedding without touching anything.

 

He stumbled to the bathroom, and somehow managed to not trip over his own feet even though he felt stupidly unsteady. After he used his organic soymilk bar to wash his hands, he pumped some of Marc’s liquid soap onto the taps to get rid of any germs or snot had transferred when he’d turned them on.

 

He knew Marc had been feeling lousy, and he had definitely looked the part, but Steven had not been prepared for this. His head felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton, his body was heavy and his nose was completely and utterly blocked. He also felt a little queasy, which could have been because Marc had decided to drink the cold away before heading to bed or they had a fever.

 

Either way it would explain why Marc had been so dizzy and grumpy. He opened the bathroom cabinet, but it seemed like Marc might have already raided it. Although, the yank could have at least put the thermometer back where it came from. For a man so obsessed with keeping the flat clean and minimal, he was pants at putting things back where they belonged.

 

A horrible, sticking feeling in the back of his throat made him cough a few times and he regretted the decision to leave his handkerchief on the bed. Not that the bed was particularly far away, and he knew he could retrieve it if he wanted too, but he wasn’t sure he and the energy for it.

 

He didn’t particularly want to look at himself in the mirror, but he wanted to see if Marc was okay. However, when he turned to look at the small frame hanging on the wall he only saw his own tired face looking back at him. The area around his nostrils were red and chapped, although he was surprised to see it was still its normally sized even though it felt like it should be swollen and huge.

 

‘Barc?’ He whispered, not wanting to disturb the other man in case he was sleeping. ‘Are you id there?’

 

Marc didn’t appear in the reflection, and Steven pushed through his disappointment and told himself it was a good thing. He understood the difference between being mentally and physically exhausted, and he didn’t blame Marc for wanting to taking time out for himself especially after the time they had in Cairo, with the Duat and then the inevitable fallout with Layla. And the poor bloke definitely didn’t deserve to experience whatever virus had a hold of their body.

 

Steven gripped the edges of the sink and let his head hang over it. He could feel his headache shift to press harder behind his eyes and he gave a pathetic, frustratingly unproductive sniffle before making a decision.

 

‘Right thed.’

 

He turned on the shower on as high as his dodgy water pressure would allow, and stripped off his layers while the water heated up. Steven absolutely adored hot showers, and he knew the steam and heat would help clear his sinuses so that he could actually breathe. The flat’s shower had two setting, cold or scalding, but as he stepped under the spray the temperature seemed just right to dissolve the chill he hadn’t even realised was there.

 

Why hadn’t Marc thought to do this? Not only would it have made him feel better, but their hair had gotten quite oily and Marc was oddly pedantic about keeping his hair clean even thought he just smothered it in product anyway.

 

Steven fought against his instincts to sniffle as his nose started dripping into the shower’s spray and something shifted in his sinuses. ‘Bloody heh-hell. Hehhh… Hetishh! Hih’Htchhhh! Hitiishhh! Ettissshh! Eh’Tchhhh! Hehhh’ETTSSHH!’

 

While recovering, Steven took an unsteady step back into the shower wall to try and stabilise himself. He didn’t want to tilt his head back into the spray in case it triggered another fit, so instead he pooled some water in his palm and brought it to his face and clean the mess away.

 

He slowly sunk down the wall and sat on the floor of the shower so that he could properly clean the sand out from between his toes. Marc was probably going to complain about the sand circle again, but Steven didn’t feel right getting rid of it, even though he knew he was probably just being paranoid. As he washed his foot he started shivering, too far away from the shower head even though the room was still full of steam.

 

‘Hehhh… Hetchhh! Etshishhh!’ He gave a loose cough and managed to use the slippery wall to help himself back up. ‘Blesses,’ he muttered to himself and he made a blind swipe to shut the water off.

 

He headed back to the bed area, wearing just his jumper, to find a new pair of pj bottoms that weren’t covered in sand that he could shimmy into. Then he grabbed the abandoned handkerchief and gave his nose a long wet blow, and then another until he felt like he had made some progress towards emptying what the steam had loosened up. It was tempting to climb back into the bed, it looked warm and inviting, but there was a small scattering of sand on the sheets and he knew that would irritate him too much to rest.

 

Steven grabbed the duvet and wrapped it around his shoulders with a snuffle. His nose felt like it was running, but it was solidly congested again and he didn’t know how anything could be coming out of it when it wasn’t even letting air in. Still, he gave it a swipe with the soft cotton of his hanky for propriety’s sake, just in case, before stuffing the cloth into the front pocket of his jumper.

 

He was still craving warmth, and he felt a little less queasy now so tea and some soup were next on the agenda. Their body needed fuel and nourishment to get better, and he didn’t trust Marc to not order something awful and greasy from the take-away shop down the street. Even if he didn’t feel like eating now then having a healthy soup ready to go was still a good idea.

 

‘Hihh...’ Steven stumbled on his way to the kitchen, trying to move through his hitching breath, ‘Hehhh-Ikttchh!’ He sneezed just once this time, but it was sharp, congested and sent pain through his face. He tried to give another light blow into his handkerchief, but it just conjured tiny prickles of pain in his sinuses and didn’t help anything.

 

He noticed the bottle of cold syrup on the bench and frowned at how depleted it was, but let it go, for now, in favor of raiding the fridge. He knew that there were a few tins of sweetcorn soup in the cupboard, but relying on them alone for flavour was not going to cut it, so he collected a jar of garlic, a few carrots that he didn’t remember buying, and some mushrooms.

 

When cutting up the carrots he felt his breath hitch again and he was given enough time to put the knife down and fish his hanky out again before releasing several unproductive and squeaky sneezes into it. ‘B-Bloody hell.’

 

‘Gesundheit.’

 

Steven scrubbed at his nose as he looked at Marc’s tired face reflected in the knife on the chopping board. ‘Cheers.’ He tucked the handkerchief away and washed his hands before scooping the pieces of carrot and mushroom into the pot, which also showed the distorted features of the other man. ‘Thoud you were taking a dap. Did I wake you?’

 

‘No, no, you’re fine. I slept for a bit, but I’m feeling better. I can step back in, if you need. I mean, I know you don’t need me to, but if you want me too I can give you a break.’

 

Steven opened the tin of soup and poured it into the pot where he was sautéing the veggies with the garlic. ‘So you cad try to poisod us agaid?’

 

Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I didn’t try to poison us, I just took some medicine.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Steven gestured to farther down the bench to the cold medicine, ‘By dowding the entire bloody bottle.’

 

‘It’s expired, Steven, it wouldn’t have been as effective if I’d just taken the regular dose.’

 

‘No id’s dot.’

 

‘Yes, it is. Check the label.’

 

Steven abandoned stirring the soup to reach for the bottle and flipped it over. It was a relatively new bottle, he’d only taken one dose from it a few months back, but now it was two thirds empty. He didn’t need to show the bottle to Marc, because the reflection was just a projection of their shared mind, and because they both saw through the same set of eyes they both realised what had happened at the same time.

 

Mark swore under his breath and his image in the saucepan avoided Steven’s gaze, because of course he’d read the date like an American.

 

‘Look, it’s okay, bate. Dow harb done. Just feeling a little squiffy on top of everythigg else.’

 

When he turned from putting the bottle down, Marc was gone. Steven looked around the room, up into the shiny surface of the range-hood and to the mirror he had placed next to the fridge and found nothing but his own sad reflection staring back at him.

 

His eyes started prickling and in a determined effort to not cry about something as stupid as being alone and sick, he missed the hitching of his breath that had nothing to do with the oncoming tears. ‘Hit’Itchhhhh!’ He scrambled to get the hanky to his face, ‘H’Hutttshh! Hehhh’Etitchhhh! Kittchhhh!’

 

After blowing his nose, Steven turned off the hot plate and took a bowl of the soup over to the couch, where he curled up into a small ball of misery and let a few tears that were clinging to his lashes fall freely down his cheeks. Hos body, however, didn’t allow him much piece and he had to place the bowl on the glass coffee table next to a thermometer. ‘Hihh… Ihhhh... Ih’Hihhh...’

 

He sat with the sneeze hovering in uncertainty for was seemed like ages as the prickle refused to climax and refused to release him. ‘Ihhh...’ he could feel the tears falling freely down his face now and he forced his eyes open to blink at the ceiling.

 

‘HIT’ITSHHHOO!’ He sneezed heavily into his hands, one still thankfully clasping his handkerchief which he applied to his nose immediately to give a blow that almost soaked through the material.

 

‘I’m sorry, Steven.’

 

Steven’s head snapped up so fast that his head gave a painful thrum and his vision swum for a moment before it focused on the face reflected on the black TV screen. Mark’s brow was pulled down and together with no much concern and guilt that it made Steven’s heart ache.

 

‘I know you’ve been excited about that new exhibit and I just wanted to get things fixed so you could go.’

 

He abandoned the hanky next to the bowl and grabbed the spoon from the bowl. He rolled it around in his hands as he felt his face flush with embarrassment about what the American had witnessed. ‘Id’s alright, yeah?’ he said to his hands. ‘The exhibit will be aroud for a while, ad healing takes tibe, you cad’t rush it.’

 

‘I know.’

 

They settled into an awkward silence where Steven pulled his blankets closer around himself and reached again for the soup. Mark watched him from the telly with an intense look, like he was ready to spring into the body the very second Steven decided he didn’t want to deal with feeling this awful. It felt weird being watched while he ate, but it will still comforting to know the other was there until he felt his face contort again and he put the bowl down on the table and reached for the thermometer that was sitting there.

 

‘Hi’Ittchhh! EKTCHH!’

 

‘Gesundheit.’

 

‘Thagks. And I appreciate you hovering ad all, but I’b just going to watch some telly ad thed go to bed, try ad sleep this off without the drugs.’

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘Yeah.’ Steven gave Marc the most reassuring smile he could muster, ‘I’b sure. But… Could you baybe stay? I bean, if you wadt to watch with be thad’d be alright?’

 

Something softened in Marc’s face and suddenly his reflection was no longer on the TV screen, and instead reflected on the surface coffee table.

 

‘Yeah, buddy. I’ll watch with you.’

 

[MiraKarat]

Awwww Steven's sneezes🥺 author thanks a lot!!❤️😍💖🌸✨💙

[angora48]

10 hours ago, Mercury said:

It's longer than Marc section, and I had to physically stop myself from writing more because I love Steven, and I love Steven being miserable, but in a good way lol.

omg, I know exactly what you mean. I love Marc, but I ADORE Steven, and if I wrote a Moon Knight fic, I'd just want all the Steven feels and cute miserable sickness in it.

Which you've more than delivered! I just love how detailed all of this is. I especially like Steven's love of hot showers (even though the shower only has two settings,) Marc getting the expiration date wrong because he read it the American way, and the delightfully-Steven British-isms like "pants" and "squiffy."

11 hours ago, Mercury said:

His eyes started prickling and in a determined effort to not cry about something as stupid as being alone and sick, he missed the hitching of his breath that had nothing to do with the oncoming tears. ‘Hit’Itchhhhh!’ He scrambled to get the hanky to his face, ‘H’Hutttshh! Hehhh’Etitchhhh! Kittchhhh!’

 

After blowing his nose, Steven turned off the hot plate and took a bowl of the soup over to the couch, where he curled up into a small ball of misery and let a few tears that were clinging to his lashes fall freely down his cheeks. Hos body, however, didn’t allow him much piece and he had to place the bowl on the glass coffee table next to a thermometer. ‘Hihh… Ihhhh... Ih’Hihhh...’

 

He sat with the sneeze hovering in uncertainty for was seemed like ages as the prickle refused to climax and refused to release him. ‘Ihhh...’ he could feel the tears falling freely down his face now and he forced his eyes open to blink at the ceiling.

I love everything about this passage.

Awesome update! I'm excited for Jake!

[Wolfwings22]

I cannot even express how much I love this! The way you wrote Steven being a multiple sneezer and having Marc blessing him just makes me so warm and fuzzy inside! Their relationship with Marc staying with Steven when he’s not doing well and watching TV is just 😍 and I can’t get enough. I cannot wait for the next part!

[Prongs]

Bless him ❤️ Love the detail about how Marc read the label the American way. This made my heart melt:

On 6/21/2022 at 10:43 AM, Mercury said:

They settled into an awkward silence where Steven pulled his blankets closer around himself and reached again for the soup. Mark watched him from the telly with an intense look, like he was ready to spring into the body the very second Steven decided he didn’t want to deal with feeling this awful. It felt weird being watched while he ate, but it will still comforting to know the other was there until he felt his face contort again and he put the bowl down on the table and reached for the thermometer that was sitting there.

 

‘Hi’Ittchhh! EKTCHH!’

 

‘Gesundheit.’

 

‘Thagks. And I appreciate you hovering ad all, but I’b just going to watch some telly ad thed go to bed, try ad sleep this off without the drugs.’

 

‘Are you sure?’

 

‘Yeah.’ Steven gave Marc the most reassuring smile he could muster, ‘I’b sure. But… Could you baybe stay? I bean, if you wadt to watch with be thad’d be alright?’

 

Something softened in Marc’s face and suddenly his reflection was no longer on the TV screen, and instead reflected on the surface coffee table.

 

‘Yeah, buddy. I’ll watch with you.’

[Mercury]

Aaand heeere's Jake! I had fun trying to figure out all of my head cannons for him, and almost none of them made it into this, but it was fun to think about lol. Not sure how I feel about this part, I still think I like Steven's the best. This is the last part, but if I get inspired again I might write another fic because I just can't get enough of these guys.
Enjoy!

 

In Triplicate 3/3

Jake woke with tense muscles, his body alert from the nightmares and ready to spring from the bed, but years of reflexes kept him still. Being flung from sleep was something he was still getting used to, as he very rarely came to the front when the body was still. Up until recently he only ever came to consciousness in the middle of a fight, when the body was mid movement and the adrenaline was already pumping.

 

But there were no threats here, only the bubble of Grant’s fish tank, and the calm tones of a British man talking about penguins. There was also something that was poking him in the side. It was sharp. Had he been stabbed? He tried to sniff, to see if he could smell blood or anything else that could tell him what was going on, but his nose was blocked. So, still sick then, but at least it didn’t feel like he had that fever any more.

 

Jake hauled himself up into a sitting position. He’d been sleeping with his mouth open so he’d drooled, and despite how blocked his nose was he was sure it was partially responsibly for the wet patch on the couch pillow. He reached for whatever was stabbing him in the side and rescued the thermometer from where it was trying to bury itself between his ribs.

 

That wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, and the old man on the TV shouldn’t be talking about emperor penguins. After his fever broke he had gone to sleep in the bed, not the couch. That meant he had become so exhausted from being sick that his concentration had lapsed and someone else had taken the body. By the texture of his hair it had undoubtedly been Grant, who didn’t understand that they couldn’t use just any old shampoo with hair as curly as theirs.

 

Jake scrunched his nose and rubbed it with his knuckle. It made a wet clicking noise and staved off the prickle that was building there. Although he was partially responsible for the state the body was in, he couldn’t take the full credit. Since they’d gotten back from Cairo, Spector had been drinking a lot more than he should, idleness did not suit the ex-mercenary, and Grant still insisted on taking that petri dish he called a bus everywhere.

 

And he’d been out most nights working for Khonshu and depriving his body of sleep. Plus, he had already been feeling off, his reflexes slow and limbs heavy, when he’d stopped to help a woman who’d had a flat on the side of the road. It had been cold, and the rain had run down the back of his coat and soaked his shirt with icy water, and that was when his nose run. Even after he’d returned to his car and cranked the heat up it had still kept running like a faucet.

 

No, it hadn’t been all his fault, but he’d taken responsibility anyway and been stuck fronting for the past few days because of it. It had been tiring and overwhelming, but also novel as he had never fronted for more then five hours at a time before.

 

Jake swung his legs over the edge of the couch and pinched his nose shut. He sneezed in perfect silence several times as the pressure built behind his fingers and threatened to blow them apart. When they stopped, and panted for breath between chapped lips, he kept his fingers in position for fear of what they contained.

 

He stood from the couch and headed into the kitchen. He needed to stand on one of the chairs to reach the back top cupboard, but he found what he needed.: a packet of vegan jerky. Grant had bought the thing weeks ago and although it had been abandoned after the first taste, Grant’s hoarding tendencies had kept it in the cupboards. Jake stashed a few possessions with the confidence that neither Grant nor Spector would ever touch it again.

 

From the bag he managed to fish out a small travel pack of tissues. He grabbed two tissues, folded them and tried to help the congestion by massaging the sides of his nose and giving some gurgling huffs into the soft folds.

 

Jake took stock of how much he was able to expend into the tissues, and noted that he had probably ridden through the worst of the sinus infection, and that there was just the remnants of a cold left. He was thankful he had kept control long enough to drag the body to a doctor, something Spector was too bullheaded to ever do, and then suffered through several days of antibiotics, which Grant would have been too absent-minded to keep up with, and gotten the body to a much better place.

 

His breath pulled in against his will, not a stuttering hitch but a large single draw, and he struggled to shake a new tissue free from the plastic packaging in time to create a tight cradle around his nose. ‘Hnnk. Nnnktt. Knxxt. Gnnxxt. Nngxt. HkCHHTT!’

 

He kept his dead down for a moment as he waited for his heart to calm. The last sneeze had forced its way through his fingers with no vocalisation but with a wet sound that was far louder than he was comfortable with. Fear told him that he had been too loud, that she could have heard, and it took longer than it should have to convince himself that wasn’t the case.

 

The doctor had told him off for silencing his sneezes, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it any other way, and every time he had tried fear had gripped him and he’d smothered the sound at the last minute.

 

When it felt like he could breath again, Jake lowered the soaked tissue with shaking hands and binned it before taking a tentative sniff. He was able to get a little bit of air in, which stung the back of his skull and he wrinkled his nose against the sensation that indicated another sneeze was not far off.

 

Fuck. He slammed hand palms down on the bench and gripped its edge. He couldn’t relax here, in a space owned by Spector and filled with Grant’s stuff, when the tiniest slip could bring either of them to the stupid amount of mirrors they had around.

 

Maybe he should have released control sooner. Grant was better at taking care of the body than he could ever be, but it had been Jake’s fault that they had gotten this cold, and his fault it had turned into an infection. Keeping them from the worst of this was the least he could do after he’d failed to save them from dying in Cairo.

 

He didn’t know what would be worse: seeing Grant or Spector in the mirrors or seeing himself, so he grabbed his car keys from the jerky bag, determined to get out of the apartment and away from all the shiny surfaces.

 

Jake flicked Grant’s excessive amount of locks and padded down the hall. The idiots hadn’t bothered to put socks on, and the hallway was cold beneath his feet and colder still when he entered the elevator with blankets wrapped around him. No one seemed to be around, which was good, although he was certain that most of the residents knew he was crazy, just not in the right way.

 

When the elevator doors closed, he felt his nostrils flare and a sting in his sinuses start building. He punched the button to stall the elevator. The last thing he needed was someone to see him sneezing.

 

Jake crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders to both keep the blanket in place and to try and keep his hands from coming up to his nose. His breath shuddered twice before he turned his head into his shoulder. ‘Hih’Engxtt! Hihh...’ His breath hitched once more before he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and gave a few loose coughs.

 

Better, he supposed, but not enough. At least mercy had granted him a single sneeze not a fit, but it left a prickle in the back of his sinuses that felt like he was a hair’s breadth away from starting to hitch again. He scrubbed a his nose with the blanket, and when it didn’t get any better or worse he hit the resume button for the elevator so he could proceed with the original plan.

 

When it jerked back into motion, Jake caught something out of the corner of his eye and he looked up to one of the mirrored elevator walls. He saw himself and his sorry state reflected back at him again and again. But, buried behind five reflections, one of the others were looking back at him, with lines between his eyebrows and corners of his eyes, like he was straining to see. Jake startled and he lashed out at the mirror, hitting it with the side of his fist several times until all of him moved in sync and the projection of Grant or Spector was pushed back.

 

When he calmed down enough to stop, Jake rested his forehead on the glass before he pushed off and took a step towards the open doors.

 

A boy stood there, early twenties maybe, staring at him with wide eyes and clutching a paper bag of groceries a bit to tightly to his chest.

 

‘H-Hi, Mister Grant.’

 

‘Hola.’

 

Jake elbowed past the boy and into the garage level, flushed from anger and fever and not embarrassment. He took long confident strides towards his car, parked in the garage that the others didn’t know existed, and bundled himself into the driver’s seat, still wrapped in the blanket. He shut the door with a sharp thud and turned the rear-view mirror away, just in case, before he opened the glove box to retrieve a box of tissues, a bottle of antibiotics and a nasal spray.

 

He took a dose of the antibiotics and used the nasal spray before settling back into the seat. The thick feeling in the back of his throat made him cough again, but after a few moments the spray did it’s job and he was able to take a half-descent breath through his nose.

 

‘Hih’Eshhhoo!’ He pressed a knuckle to his sternum as he tried to free two tissues from the box with his spare hand. ‘Eshhhh! Eh’TISHHHOO! ITCHHHO!’

 

It took several blows and too many tissues before he felt like he had sufficiently emptied the pressure in his head, but he resurfaced with a crooked smile and huffed a laugh.

 

Eventually Spector and Grant would figure out he was there, as the better they got at communicating the harder it was for him to live in the gaps of silence, but when that happened then at least he could bring more to the table than just his fists.

 

Jake pulled the lever in the driver’s seat back and reclined back, curled in the blanket with a tissue pressed to his streaming nose. At least here, in a space that was so tangibly his, he felt grounded enough that he wouldn’t let himself slip again. He could keep protecting the others from this damned cold like he’d protected them from so much else.

 

And when they did discover his existence, they’d better be fucking grateful he suffered through this for them.

[justaquirkygirl]

Oh, I loved this!

[Wolfwings22]

This was just so incredible! I loved all three parts and they came together so nicely. I certainly wouldn’t say no if you wanted to write more since we can never have enough Moon Knight stories on this site. Amazing job!

[angora48]

Nice! Reading anything about Jake is interesting because we have so little explicit characterization for him. I've been looking between the lines trying to rustle up some headcanons for him too, and I like the characterization you came up with. Very self-sufficient and no-nonsense, holding the other two at arm's length (calling them "Grant" and "Spector" instead of Steven and Marc.) I liked him needing to get out of the apartment because he thought the mirrors might bring Steven or Marc to the surface, and I LOVED the bit about Steven not knowing what kind of shampoo they needed.

But even though he has a chip on his shoulder about them, you've made it clear that Jake DOES care about Marc and Steven and always tries to protect them, which I think is the care to understanding him as a person and not just an "evil alter." I liked the detail that it was weird for Jake to wake up in the body, since he normally only fronts when they're already in the middle of a fight, and that now that they're sick, he's spending longer stretches fronting than he ever has before.