Under The Radar (Moon Knight, Marc)

[Wolfwings22]

This is based on a simple prompt that I found and decided to make it into a story with Marc sick and out of it with Layla there to help and Steven there to offer support from their headspace since he can’t comfort Marc the same way that Layla can. But, Steven knows that Marc is in good hands with Layla even if Marc is impossibly stubborn about everything because it’s Marc. I hope you all enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

Character A’s wonderfully cool fingers brushing against Character B’s sweaty, hot forehead and them leaning towards the cool hand

 

 

 

 

 

    The sound of the thermostat clicking had Marc lifting his head from the cocoon of the blankets. His glassy eyes were barely able to rest on Layla as she moved around the room briskly, purpose in every step that she took.

 

    Marc opened his mouth to ask when she was doing, yet all that came out was a tired sounding cough. It shook his entire body all the same, the force of it causing his blocked nose to run slightly and he struggled to snuffle it back to avoid touching his sensitive nose that had only been growing more tender the longer this stupid cold progressed. At least, Marc hoped it was a cold no matter how many times Layla had told him different.

 

    “Colds don’t come with this high of fevers,” Layla had told him the night before, her time spent fussing over him despite Marc’s insistence that he was fine.

 

    ‘Maybe you should listen to her,’ Steven had suggested from the glass of water staring back at Marc from the nightstand.

 

    He had ignored his alter, and now he had a feeling that they were both right by how shitty he felt. It wasn’t something that he would ever willingly confess. He wasn’t one to show weakness even as fever was making his muscles ache and limbs heavy when he tried to shift to a less painful position. His skin was ultra sensitive and anytime he rolled over, it reminded him just how much this sickness was kicking his ass.

 

    ‘Marc? Marc, it’s time for you to take something else.’

 

    Marc opened his eyes heavily and groaned as he stretched out his legs, which had previously been tucked up to his chest. “Don’t want to,” he mumbled tiredly. “Just want to sleep.”

 

    ‘And you won’t without it, mate. I can tell.’

 

    Marc groaned and sniffled once more. He wasn’t sure why considering that his nose was completely clogged that barely any air could make it through. The more he sniffled, the more he felt the need to cough, which would then make the pain that he was feeling travel through his body that much worse. It was a vicious cycle that Steven had first pointed out while Marc had been too frustrated by things to realize that his alter was possibly right.

 

    He suddenly sucked in a small breath and turned his head under the blankets, waiting for the cusp of the itch in his nose to reach a certain point. His eyes blinked slowly until were forced closed as his entire body shook. “Hih’RchsHsS! Hih’RchsHsSH! Hih’RchsHS!” Marc waited a few more seconds, the itch far from gone, until he ducked forward again. “Hih’RchsHS! Hih’RcsHsH!”

 

    ‘Bless, mate.’

 

    Marc gulped stuffily, nose even more full than it had been before he sneezed. He needed to blow it like yesterday. “Ugh, thanks, budt you dond’t habe to keep sayig id. I’b only goig to keep sneezing.”

 

    ‘It’s a kind gesture, Marc. I want to say it.’

 

    Marc couldn’t argue with that. “Alrighdt, budt dond’t comblain wed you’re hoarse because you keeb insisdting on sayig id.”

 

    Steven waited a moment for Marc to try and snort back the congestion before trying to speak again. ‘Do you have a hanky? Think our nozzle could use a good blow, yeah.’

 

    Although he didn’t want to admit that Steven was right, Marc knew arguing would be futile. His nose was drippy and runny, in desperate need of something to help clean it up. There was no point in arguing truth, no matter how much embarrassment Marc was feeling.

 

    “I guess,” Marc mumbled, the post nasal drip sending him coughing.

 

    Marc began to prop himself up on his elbows to aid his breathing just as he noticed Layla walking over with a half full box of tissues. Her brow was knit together in concern as she sat on the edge of the bed, the tissue box set between her and Marc while she pulled out a few handfuls.

 

    Marc took them from her and tented them over his nose as he blew. The sound was thick and mucus filled. As if that wasn’t bad enough, one blow was simply not enough and Marc had to heave a few more breaths to blow once more. He swiped at the undersides and folded them back over, this time forcing one nostril closed at a time to see if that could clear himself out anymore. When he finished, his nose was still full and couldn’t be trusted to aid in breathing, but that was as good of a blow as he could muster for the time being.

 

    “Your nose is so red,” Layla sympathized with a clear frown. “Does it hurt?”

 

    Marc curled his lip in distain. “Dnot at all,” he lied smoothly.

 

    ‘Why are you lying to her? She only wants to help,’ Steven protested.

 

    Marc ducked his head to the side. His vision momentarily swam and it took a few moments before he trusted himself enough to start talking. “Id doesn’dt hurdt thadt bad, Steben.”

 

    Layla clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she took the soiled tissues from Marc and threw them in a nearby trashcan. “I think I have some Vics that might make it a little easier to breathe and may help with the peeling. I’ll be right back.” She leaned over and planted a featherlight kiss on his forehead before standing and heading back over to the bathroom.

 

    When she was out of earshot, Marc grumbled to himself as he slumped back down into his pillow. “Dnice goig, Steben.”

 

    ‘What did I do?’ Steven’s voice grew higher pitched while he regarded his alter, feeling both frustrated and surprised at the same time. He was used to Marc’s sometimes wayward temper, but this was taking things to a whole new level.

 

    “I’b fide. We dond’t dneed her fussig over us.” Marc swallowed a harsh tickle that leapt in the back of his throat. Combined with the post nasal drip, swallowing and breathing were more challenging than he had ever experienced before. Boy he would be glad when his symptoms finally began to subside and taking a trek to the bathroom to take a leak didn’t completely drain him of all of his energy.

 

    ‘But she wants to help,’ Steven protested. ‘Why shouldn’t we ask for a spot of assistance? We looked after Layla when she was sick.’

 

    “Thadt was different,” Marc ground out.

 

    ‘I don’t see how. It’s perfectly acceptable to ask for help, Marc.’

 

    Marc was aware that Steven meant well; he usually always did. However, his thoughts were in a different place than Steven’s. He had gone through different challenges than Steven, and always preferred to tough through every injury and illness and not allow himself to be taken care of or coddled by anyone, including Layla. It had been Steven’s fault in Marc’s eyes that Layla even knew how sick they were. Keeping a low profile and toughing through was what Marc always did, and it had worked well enough for him throughout the years.

 

    ‘Marc, are you listening to me?’

 

    Marc shook his head and ducked his head against the back of his wrist, unleashing three squeaky sounding stifles against it. His head gave a shake to clear it, eyes watering and glazed while he coughed. Stifling had done nothing to help with his congestion and he feared that if he tipped his head a certain way, the milky contents of his nose would come gushing out.

 

    ‘Bless, bless! Those sounded like they hurt.’

 

    This was not the conversation that Marc wanted to have to Steven. “I’b fide.”

 

    ‘You shouldn’t do that, I reckon. Could make things bloody worse, yeah.’ He gave a brief pause when Marc didn’t respond, wondering if his alter was even listening to his concerns. ‘So maybe try not to do that. You don’t need to be embarrassed because you’re sneezing.’

 

    “I’b dnot havig this conversaditon with you.” Marc buried deeper under the covers with his palm shoved up against his nose. Talking was doing him no favors, the building pressure and content of his nose impossible to ignore. He may not have sneezed it out, but it certainly wasn’t staying where it was without a fight. Marc couldn’t remember ever having a sneezy cold like this. He was usually a one or two sneezer kinda person, yet with this illness, he was having multiple jarring fits that left him lightheaded and nose streaming.

 

    Before Steven could say anymore, Layla wandered back into the room with a small jar of Vics, a box of tissues, and a thermometer. She took her spot where she had been sitting earlier and took one look at Marc before taking out a handful of tissues and passing them over.

 

    Marc sourly rubbed at his nose, refusing to blow no matter how incessant Steven was being in their head.

 

    “Don’t be proud,” Layla argued with a audible sigh. “You’re just going to keep sneezing until you do. You forget that I know how you are when sick.”

 

    Marc hated to have this conversation with Layla. “You’re starding to sound like Steben.”

 

    “At least we know who’s using their brains in this situation.” Layla chuckled at Marc’s glare as she pressed the back of her fingers against his forehead, gave a brief pause before smoothing his wiry curls back. “You don’t have to be embarrassed like you always are. I’m not going to say anything because you’re a little mucusy at the moment.”

 

    ‘I do not believe that is a word, though.’

 

    Marc couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Steven’s comment as he took another handful of tissues and layered them together. Like his sneezes, blowing his nose was always rather strong and wet and the last thing that he wanted was to accidentally soak through the tissues and get anything on his hands. It had been known to happen often enough when Marc was on his own and didn’t have the best tissues. That was certainly not something he wanted to have to deal with at the moment.

 

    Taking in a deep breath, he blew his nose, the sound gurgling and productive. His face flushed with embarrassment at Layla being so close to witness his struggle, especially as it was clear that the handful of tissues he had weren’t going to be enough.

 

    Without a second thought, Layla reached over when Marc had stopped blowing and took the tissues from him. She tossed them aside and replaced them with another handful that had Marc blowing almost before the tissues were fully secured to his nose. This time he was able to clear himself out much better and a few small sniffles in the aftermath was all it took for him to make sure that his nose wasn’t going to start running. The itch was still there, though Marc silently prayed that it wouldn’t turn into another fit.

 

    He tossed the wilted tissues aside and looked around fearfully when he realized that Layla wasn’t sitting beside him anymore. She had been there a moment ago. Marc’s heart leapt into his throat as his fevered mind raced through where she could’ve possibly gotten to.

 

    ‘Mate, calm down. She just went—‘

 

    “It’s alright,” Layla suddenly broke in as she sat back down beside Marc, a hand rested on his shoulder through the covers. She glanced at him worryingly and it was only then that Marc realized he had been hyperventilating, mere moments away from either passing out or dissociating.

 

    Marc blinked deliberately, grimacing when a stay tear ran down his left cheek. “Where did you go?”

 

    “Just to grab a glass of water and some more Tylenol.” Layla lifted her hand from his shoulder and trailed up his neck before brushing his fringe away and pressing her palm flush against his brow. “You’re still so warm. I’m starting to think that we’re going to have to try something more besides Tylenol.”

 

    Marc shook his head. “Tylenol odly.”

 

    Layla knew better than to try and argue with Marc, nor pressure him into seeing reason. It had taken forever to persuade Marc to even take low dose Tylenol for anything. He was a man that would much rather tough it out than admit that he needed assistance with anything. It wasn’t ideal in Layla’s eyes, but she was at Marc’s mercy when it came to this and she didn’t want to say anything that would make things worse.

 

    “Alright, just Tylenol.” Layla grabbed the pills and handed them over, watching as Marc propped himself up on his elbows and tossed them into the back of his throat. He took the water next and swallowed it down. The water did nothing to soothe his already sore throat and sent him nearly coughing. He handed the glass aside to Layla and swiped the back of his hand under his nose.

 

    Layla set the water on the nightstand and traded it for the jar of Vics. She unscrewed the cap and the moment the strong scent of menthol rose from it, Marc frantically grabbed another handful of tissues and forced them against his nose as he convulsed forward in a harsh hitch.

 

    “Hih’RchsHsSH! Hih’TrCHsHsh! Hih’RcsHshSH! ‘Hih’RcsHshHS!” Marc surfaced a second later only to duck back down again. “Hih’RchsHSSH! Hih’RcshshSH! Hih’RcSHsSH!”

 

    Layla watched through the entire fit as Marc finally finished and blew his nose into the folds before throwing the tissues away, chest heaving in exhaustion.

 

    ‘Bless, Marc. Those sounded like they weren’t pleasant. You alright, mate?’

 

    “I’b fide, Steben,” Marc answered, voice sunken to the absolutely depths of stuffiness despite him just finishing blowing his nose. “Budt thanks for checkig id.”

 

    ‘No problem. Wish I could do more.’

 

    Marc wanted to argue that he had already done more than enough, just like Layla. He was far from the easiest patient, he was well aware of that, and he certainly didn’t want to make things anymore miserable for those that were helping him.

 

    “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Layla murmured as she glanced at the jaw. “We don’t want to make this any worse.”

 

    Marc grumbled to himself and reached out a hand to take the jar from her. No way was he going to allow for her to do this part, especially with Steven watching.

 

    He stuck his pointer finger into the jar and pulled a generous dollop from it and spread it over the curve of both nostrils as well as the space between his upper lip and nose. What was left he generously coated over his throat, already feeling the warmth of it seep into his skin. The scent tickled his nose until he constantly felt he was on the cusp of another sneeze. So far it hadn’t pushed him over the edge, yet Marc wasn’t sure exactly how long it would take before that happened.

 

    Marc wasn’t allowed to ponder it much longer as a sudden searing pain surged through his head. He groaned and ducked down, the thought of what could’ve changed so suddenly to cause the pain surging through his mind.

 

    “Marc,” Layla began fearfully. “What’s wrong?”

 

    “Dond’t dknow.” Marc screwed his face up in discomfort and shoved his head deep against the pillow. “Jusdt cabe over be. Sorry.”

 

    “You don’t have to apologize. Can I get you anything? An icepack or something?” Layla’s voice was laced in worry as she watched over him.

 

    Marc closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them he saw that she was still looking at him. Desire for contact was almost too strong to ignore, no matter how hard he tried.

 

    “Marc?”

 

    Marc shifted over and motioned to the space beside him. “Stay here?”

 

    Layla’s gaze softened as she crawled forward and settled beside him, curling herself around him and wrapping her arm around his shoulders so that her hand rested on his chest. There she could feel his wheezy breathing and she mentally told herself that she would need to keep an eye on that.

 

    “This alright,” Layla whispered in his ear, her free hand coming up to massage his scalp as if that would help with the headache symptoms.

 

    Marc didn’t nod, though he did let out a low murmur in the back of his throat. He tried to verbally answer only to feel as though he had been shot by a tranquilizer dart. His limbs grew heavy even as his headache continued to throb as though his brain was pressing against his skull. It was still painful, yet having Layla behind him made it all seem all the more bearable.

 

    “I’m not going anywhere,” Layla breathed as she felt Marc shudder against him. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

    Marc felt himself relax against her despite the pain, relieved that Layla was beside him until he finally was able to relax enough to drift off into a fever induced slumber.

 

The End

[starpollen]

This is very cute.

[angora48]

Nice! I'm much closer to Marc's vibe when I'm sick (though more self-conscious than stubborn,) so I totally get the "no really, I'm fine, just let me handle it by myself" thing. But of course Layla and Steven won't let him get away with that!

Side note: "nozzle" is 100% a term Steven would use.