Sweater Paws (Moon Knight, Marc & Steven)

[Wolfwings22]

I’m back with another Moon Knight story as this fandom is one that I can’t shy away from even if I try. I found a couple prompts and this was one of them with Marc and Steven struggling to navigate things together when sick. Layla also tries to do her best to help when Marc doesn’t make it easy and Steven is out of his element with someone actually caring for him when he’s sick. I hope you all enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prompt—I’m all for characters at their worst, but can we talk about Character A walking in on Character B wearing their sweater, eyes glassy and nose red

 

 

 

 

 

 

    A sigh of relief sounded from Layla as she managed to lug all of her grocery bags to the door to her apartment in Cairo. What had meant to be a quick trip was made more complicated by the tourists that had gathered at the same shop she often stopped at. Layla had tried her best to stay calm and not let it bother her, though it was difficult when a quick trip turned into a couple hours of wandering around looking for the ingredients for a nice homemade meal that she promised Steven she would make for him.

 

    Once she walked through the door and over to the kitchen to set the bags down, she realized that she couldn’t hear Steven moving around. It wasn’t an overly large apartment either, so to come back to silence filling the space had Layla momentarily abandoning her bags to creep into the living room.

 

    “Steven,” she called before seeing someone standing in the corner of the room, facing the walls. At first she wondered if perhaps they were staring out the window, but when she drew closer, she realized that something was most definitely off. “Steven, honey, you okay?”

 

    The man in question turned around, eyes glassy and mouth parted as he breathed noisily. The sweater that he wore Layla recognized as something that Marc often wore. Despite Steven and Marc being in the same body, they tended to have different preferences when it came to clothing. It was rare to see one wearing something that the other would when given the chance.

 

    Steven was about to answer only for his head to tip back as he took in a couple hitching breaths. His nostrils flared as he pitched forward into his slightly raised wrist that the sweatshirt covered all the way to his finger tips. “ItchSH! ItchsHS! ItcSHSH! ItchsHSH! ItchSh’hoo!”

 

    Layla barley had time to step back as she watched Steven buck forward five into into his wrist. “Bless you!”

 

    “Oh, I’b so sorry,” Steven exclaimed as he managed to open his watery eyes to see Layla standing a meter or so away. “Thadt’s so gross. I-I’b so sorry.”

    

    “It’s alright. Can’t be helped sometimes, right,” she pointed out as she reached out a hand and rubbed at his shoulder while Steven reached into his back pocket and pulled out a plain handkerchief. She gave him his space as he cupped it around his nose and blew, the sound echoing around the walls of the small apartment.

 

    When Steven finished, he lowered the handkerchief and glanced at Layla bashfully. “Thadt was so disgusdting. Dear be, I dknew I shouldn’dt have cobe whed Marc said we bay be feelig off.”

 

    “Steven, I would much rather you be here with someone to look after you than by yourself.”

 

    Steven’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’b dnot alode! I habe Marc!”

 

    Layla realized her poor choice of words a moment too late. She could practically see the horror on Steven’s face at the thought that he could be without his alter. Despite how much they tended to annoy each other just by being there, the thought of them being without the other was too much for either of them to think of.

 

    “I meant someone who was outside your body that could help you feel better,” Layla corrected softly. She reached up a hand to feel his forehead only for him to pull away and bury his face into both palms that were still covered by the sweatshirt he wore.

 

    “ItchsSH! ItchsHSs! ItchsHSh! ItchSHSh!”

 

    “Bless you again.” She couldn’t help but grimace as Steven sucked back a majority of what he just sneezed out back into his nose as he surfaced, rubbing and pawing at his nose like a dog might. “You’re going to cause a sinus infection if you keep that up.”

 

    Steven looked at her in confusion, mouth open wide as he struggled for air. “I....whadt?”

 

    Layla decided to drop it. There was a slim chance that Steven knew what she was talking about, nor had the energy at the present moment to care. Layla had seen this numerous times with Marc and knew that she had to get Steven settled down somewhere so that he could try and get some sleep before his racing thoughts took over and he would be wired for the rest of the day. Steven may not be Marc, but their idiosyncrasies tended to overlap in some areas.

 

    “C’mon.” Layla grasped his wrist and pulled him forward toward the couch. She did her best to ignore just how damp his wrist was no doubt from countless sneezing fits, most of which she was sure she hadn’t seen. The last thing that she wanted was for Steven to be self conscious about it.

 

    She had just pushed him down to sit on the couch while he was fumbling for his handkerchief again and clamping it over the lower half of his face. “ItchSHew! ItchSH! IthcSH’hoo! ItchsHS! ItcHSSH! Ugh, bloody hell they jusdt wond’t stop!”

 

    Layla could understand his frustration. “I think I have some spare tissues around here somewhere. Let me check.”

 

    Steven squeezed the middle of his nose and wiped down, hoping that it would force some of the congestion that he felt just sitting in his sinuses. Never before had a cold hit him this hard and this fast. He could remember waking up that morning with a slightly scratchy throat and after a small kip he woke up feeling as though he had been hit by a bus.

 

    “You dond’t habe to go through all thadt trouble,” Steven called over his shoulder only to buck forward as he started to cough. He rested his hands on his knees, handkerchief grasped tightly in his left hand as he struggled with the full body hacks that seemed to shake him to his core.

 

    The sounds of rummaging through the bathroom sounded in the living room and Steven couldn’t help but feel like a burden for having Layla get things for him. First it had been her offering to make a meal she was sure Steven would adore, and now she was going out of her way to help him. Somehow that made Steven feel oddly cared for and uncomfortable at the same time.

 

    Steven wasn’t given much time to ponder things as Layla came back with a large box of tissues. “These might be better than the handkerchief. Plus you can use them more.”

 

    Steven didn’t hesitate to pull out a few handfuls and brought them up to his nose to blow. He had learned the hard way that one or two wouldn’t be enough that he tended to need upwards of six or seven to make sure they didn’t become saturated and wilt away in his hands.

 

    The sound that he made was enough to disgust him and he couldn’t help but shoot Layla a bashful look. “Bloody hell thadt was awful.”

 

    “You’re sick, Steven,” Layla chided. “I’d be concerned if you didn’t sound like a sick person.”

 

    Steven gave a small smile as he held onto the tissues and looked around. “I had bedder wash by hands. Don’t wandt you catchig this nasdty bug frob be.”

 

    He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he jumped to his feet and headed to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him and threw the tissues into the trash.

 

    Washing his hands proved to be a slightly more difficult venture as he sneezed halfway through and was forced to dry his hands, blow his nose on some toilet paper, and repeat the whole washing process once again. He headed out to find that Layla was already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables on a cutting board.

 

    He wandered forward and stopped just shy of the kitchen. Wanting to keep a low profile, Steven’s attempt were thrashed when a particularly annoying tickle traveled along the inside of his throat, forcing him to cough sharply three times into the crook of his arm.

 

    Layla spun around and regarded him with a sympathetic stare. “You alright?”

 

    Steven tried to flash a reassuring smile before realizing what a poor attempt it would be to persuade her that he felt fine. His  glassy eyes and red nose did enough of that on their own without his congested voice answering. “Just fine, really.”

 

    Layla tsked before motioning forward with one hand before bringing it back to continue to chop the vegetables. “You can come closer, Steven. The cutting board isn’t going to bite.”

 

    “Dno, thadt’s okay.” Steven gave a massive sniff, trying to pull the mess that threatened to drip from his nostrils back in. “A sick person shouldn’t be id the kitchen if they cad helb idt.”

 

    Layla momentarily paused her chopping only to resume a couple seconds later. “You don’t have the plague. It’s just a cold, maybe the flu at most. Besides, someone has got to keep me company.”

 

    Part of Steven wanted to keep insisting that he should stay as far away from her as possible so that she didn’t risk catching this. However, the other part of him felt too dreadful to even think of putting up an argument.

 

    He reluctnatly trudged forward, strides taking him to the edge of the counter to sit down as it was as far away from Layla preparing the food as possible.

 

    “Whadt is id you’re baking again?”

 

    “Actually, I’m saving that for another day when you can actually taste how good it is. This....” she paused briefly to motion to the various vegetables that she had in front of her, ready to be cut up. “....is what my father used to make for me when I sick. Minus the meat of course for you. I guess it’ll end up being more of a vegetable stew than chicken.”

 

    As touching as it was, Steven couldn’t help but feel a flash of guilt. First, Layla was going to cook a lengthy traditional meal her and Marc enjoyed when they lived in Cairo. Now she was changing things up and still going out of her way to make something for him.

 

    “You dond’t have to change adything on by accoundt,” Steven argued with a shake of his head. “I’ll eadt anything.”

 

    Layla finished chopping up an onion before setting it into a bowl and grabbing some carrots. “When was the last time that you can remember being sick?”

 

    The question took Steven momentarily by surprise. “Uh....id’s been a while, honestly, budt I was okay.”

 

    “Did anyone take care of you?”

 

    That question struck a nerve that Steven wasn’t even aware that he had. His eyes narrowed and a frown shown on his face.

 

    Sensing that she had struck a chord, Layla set her knife down and wiped her hands on the front of her shirt. She turned and walked over to the counter, placing her palms on the edge and leaned forward just as Steven leaned back. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I care about you and I’m going to do something for you that hasn’t been done before. You deserved to be cared for, Steven.”

 

    Steven couldn’t help but smile almost fearfully. “I cad see why Marc fancies you.”

 

    “Didn’t know that Marc cares for anyone these days.” Layla turned back to the stew she was preparing without so much of a look back at Steven.

 

    “Did you two have a fight?” Steven jumped up and couldn’t help but draw closer to Layla, eyes round and curiosity peaking. “Is that why Marc is even more cagey than normal?”

 

    Cagey? Yeah, that sounded like Marc. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not your problem. Forget I said it.”

 

    There was a certain tension with relations being different with Marc and Layla as they were Steven and Layla. To Layla’s credit, she rarely let it bleed through as far as Marc and Steven were concerned, though trying to keep everything straight about what each one of them was aware of was exhausting if Layla was being honest with herself. She wouldn’t change it considering she cared for both Steven and Marc in slightly different ways. It was also much easier to communicate with Steven as Marc was still as stubborn as ever, even now hardly ever talking about his true feelings no matter how much Layla tried to pull them out of him.

 

    “Marc is trying to cope with everything. He may be acting a bit dodgy but....but.....”

 

    Layla looked back as Steven abruptly trailed off. It only took one look at him to realize why.

 

    “ItcHsSH! ItChsSH! ItchSHS! ItsHssH!” Steven sniffed back hard, eyes watering when he realized that he had forgotten to cover his nose.

 

    “Bless you.” Layla quickly looked around the kitchen for tissues only to realize that there were none. One look at Steven with a slickness freely flowing from both nostrils had her sprinting back into the living room to where she found the tissue box on the crouch. She scooped it up and ran back, handing the entire box over to Steven and averting her gaze away just as quickly.

 

    Steven took the box and hugged it to his chest while pulling a handful of tissues free. He had just brought them up to his face when his breath hitched and he fell forward into the folds. “ItcsHsSH! ItchsSH! ItcSHSh! HrchsSHs’Shoo!”

 

    Layla’s head snapped up at the sound of the last sneeze. Although it was still early, she had picked up how Steven sneezed when he was sick and it was nothing like the final sneeze. There was only one person that she knew had a monstrous sneeze like that.

 

    Sure enough, just when Layla was about to say something, there was a retreating of footsteps back into the living room and the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut afterwards.

 

    Layla shook her head and went back to chopping the carrots. “Somethings never change.”

 

    Behind the bathroom door, a very discombobulated Marc Spector stood, feeling off his game in a way he never felt before. Head pounding, nose clogged and running at the same time, and skin prickling with uncomfortableness had him struggling to catalog his thoughts.

 

    “Seved, whadt the hell is goig on,” Marc coughed, painfully aware that it was impossible to steal any breath in through his nose. Even trying to take in a breath was impossible and caused a wet squelch to fill the bathroom.

 

    Biting back an angry cough, Marc reached out and tapped his knuckles against the mirror. “Steved, I dknow you’re in there. Steved!”

 

    It took a minute before Steven’s face finally appeared staring back and Marc from the mirror. His eyes were tired and his hair a mess; Marc could only imagine what he looked like at the moment and wasn’t looking forward to seeing his reflection.

 

    ‘Marc,’ Steven questioned with a confused shake of his head. ‘Mate, what is going on. I was just—“

 

    “Dnot by choice,” Marc broke in, stifling cough after cough into the back of his hand that still had the sweater pulled down to the tips of his fingers. He fought to regain composure as he leaned against the sink until it dug into his stomach. “I didn’t ask to take the body.”

 

    ‘I swear I didn’t give up control willingly, Marc. I wouldn’t do that to you without warning if I could help it.’ He blinked his eyes slow, deliberated, exhaustion showing in every wrinkle on his face. ‘I can try and take it back if you’d rather.’

 

    Every instinct told Marc to take it, to let Steven wallow in whatever virus they were currently fighting. Something stopped him just say of relinquishing control to his alter. Call it stubbornness, call it guilt, but Marc couldn’t bring himself to even think about giving up control back to Steven.

 

    “Id’s fide. I’ll handle id on by own.”

 

    Steven’s head snapped up as he leaned closer into the mirror. ‘You don’t have to handle it on your own, Marc. We share this, remember? We have to rely on each other.’

 

    Steven’s words sunk in much deeper than Marc had hoped. His head started to shake back and forth until it nearly struck the wall. He rocked from foot to foot, the pounding behind his eyes trailing down into his sinuses. It made his face feel heavy and mind clogged so that nothing made sense.

 

    Harsh knocking thumped on the outside of the door that pulled Marc’s attention.

 

    “Marc? You alright?”

 

    “I’b fide.”

 

    Marc growled when he saw the look that Steven was giving him from the mirror. He deliberately looked away and gave his nose a much needed wriggle at the bridge.

 

    “I made some tea for you when you come out and soup is on the stove.”

 

    It wasn’t until Layla’s footsteps retreated from the door that Marc straightened, shuffled over to the sink and tapped on the mirror with the back of his hand. “You stay oudt of this.”

 

    ‘I didn’t even say anything. You’re a wee bit defensive for someone that left me to deal with this on my own, yeah?’

 

    “Left you to deal? I didn’dt....” Marc scrubbed a furious fist against his left eye, pushing so hard into the socket that he saw a brief flash of color. “Jusdt leave be alode.”

 

    ‘I’m confused, didn’t you just get angry at me for leaving you alone with the body and now that’s what you want me to do?’

 

    Marc didn’t even bother answering as he reached for the knob of the door and cracked it open. His fingers slipped delicately over the switch to turn off the light as he treaded back into the living room, abruptly trying to leave Steven behind.

    

    He slumped over onto the couch with a tired cough. The pressure deep within his sinuses was growing impossible to ignore and made something as simple as taking in an unobstructed breath a challenge. Marc was left with his mouth gaped open as he managed to find a few tissues to roll between both hands before shoving some up each nostril and leaning back a giants the edge of the couch, eying the ceiling as if it held all the answers.

 

    ‘Why do we have tissue shoved up our nose, mate?’

 

    Marc grumbled under his breath and immediately held his middle finger up, knowing that Steven would be able to feel that and get the memo.

 

    ‘That was rather uncalled for.’

 

    Marc felt a twinge of guilt at his alter’s saddened tone just as Layla headed back into the living room with a glass of seaming beverage.

    

    “You’re not being an asshole to Steven, are you,” she pressed as she took a seat beside Marc, one leg curled under her and the other one draped over the edge.

 

    Marc shot her an abashed glance. “No, he’s the one being an asshole.”

 

    ‘Oi! That was uncalled for!’

 

    Layla reached over to pushed on Marc’s shoulder, eyes narrowed. “I highly doubt that.” She hummed to herself and lifted the glass. “Guess I forgot how much of a total pain in the ass you get when you’re sick. Looks like Steven is learning that the hard way, huh?”

    

    “I am not a total pain when sick. No one likes being sick, obviously.” Marc glowered and pinched at the bridge of his nose and gave it a prominent wriggle.

 

    Layla let out a loud sigh and forced the drink into Marc’s hands. He fumbled to catch it before the liquid could spill over the sides in time for Layla to reach over and swiftly remove the cylindrical tufts of tissues sticking out of Marc’s nose. With a flourish of her wrist she snagged them free, Marc’s eyes immediately watering as he withdrew his head tipped back and breath coming in frantic pants.

 

    “HurhSHs’Shoo! HurchshSh’Shoo!” Marc hissed in pain as the liquid spilled on his lap and he lifted it up higher, droplets raining from the rim and falling onto the rug at his feet. He attempted to use his thumb to whisk the liquid away to stop it from dripping when his nose started to twitch, a fierce tickle lodging itself firmly at the back of his sinuses until Marc could only squint his eyes and beg for relief as his breath hitched and his mouth dropped open.

 

    “Shit,” Layla hissed as she tossed the tissue that she had pulled from Marc’s nose aside and took the mug, a sharp retort to herself in her mind for giving it to him in the first place and not remembering just how sensitive Marc’s nose could be when touched when he was sick.

 

    Marc was still reeling only to pitch over his shoulder, trying to shield Layla as much as possible from the onslaught. “HurhcsH’Shoo! HrcHshs’Shoo! HurShsSH’Shoo!” A throaty, mucus filled snuffle had Marc both coughing and pressing his wrist against his nose, the tidal wave of snot seeping out from behind his raised hand.

 

    Layla was both shocked and taken aback by what had happened. She reached out to set the tea down before grasping the tissues and handing a wad of them in her husband’s direction.

 

    Marc took them with his other hand and traded his wrist for some tissues, shoulders squared away from the woman beside him as he honked productively, a horrible, garbled sound that left him continuously blowing until the thick gunk was finally forced out enough that he didn’t fear showing his face and Layla instinctively running the other way. Logically he knew that wouldn’t happen as they had been through far worse, yet the traumas of his childhood argued that it was very much a possibility.

 

    Marc was far from satisfied and reached out a hand backwards in Layla’s direction without looking back at her. He offered his open palm, fingers wiggling in a grasping motion.

 

    It took Layla a moment to process exactly what Marc was after before handing the entire tissue box over. It would be best to let him have control of how many he got. Plus, Layla didn’t want to make the already tense situation worse. What had started off as light teasing that they had used to have during the early time in their marriage. She should’ve known better than just to jump back into how things were and expect nothing to happen.

 

    After Marc finished blowing his nose and using a large amount of tissues to wipe his reddened nose, he stood and grabbed the bundle of them and headed back to the kitchen.

 

    “Marc,” Layla called, arm stretched and twisted around the back of the couch as she fought to glance over her shoulder.

 

    Marc ignored her and went to throw away the tissues before heading back toward the bathroom. He caught Layla staring at him and felt like he owed it to her to give her a brief explanation, though he was still cross with her. “Going to change,” he barked out.

 

    Layla didn’t have a chance to question him further as he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door a lot louder than necessary.

 

    Marc flipped on the light and immediately went over to the corner of the bathroom, hands lifted to his temples while his fingers stretched out and yanked on the soft tendrils of his hair, a few strands pulled free in his anger.

 

    ‘Marc? Marc, what’s going on,’ questioned Steven from the mirror to Marc’s left. He hadn’t been out of the loop for long, but now he felt himself being lifted front and center as Marc began to fade. He was relinquishing control freely, just not happily.

 

    ‘Marc, talk to me. Marc!’

 

    Steven’s sudden shout had Marc’s head snapping to attention, fingers still tangled deep within his curls. His eyes were wide and glassy as he swayed on his feet as he became more and more detached from the body with every passing moment.

 

    Steven attempted to lean forward in the mirror. He may not be able to comfort Marc physically, but he could try and be as much of a presence for him as possible. ‘Marc, it’s alright, yeah. I don’t know what happened with Layla but everything is alright.’

 

    Through Steven’s entire reassurance, Marc shook his head feebly. His nose had started to run away as tears pooled in his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no,” he kept repeating before clutching tightly at the side of his head and thrusting his fist against his temple.

 

    It was a very condensed punch but Steven still saw it.

 

    ‘Marc, do you need me to take the body? It may help,’ Steven suggested before Marc could do anymore damage to them.

 

    Steven felt himself being thrust in the front and he felt himself grow heavy as he opened his eyes to see that he was staring at the floor of the bathroom, left temple throbbing.

 

    “Awe, mate that hurt.” Steven gave his head a few stubborn shakes and untangled his fingers from their hair. Marc hadn’t pulled too many strands out that Steven could see as he checked himself out in the mirror, chin tucked against his chest to give himself a better view.

 

    “Bugger you could’ve been.” Steven then noticed that his nose was practically dripping and he reached for some toilet paper. He pulled a few squares out and brought it up to his nose, wiping and rubbing as he didn’t have the strength nor desire to blow anymore than necessary.

 

    Steven reached deep into his mind to see if he could feel Marc moving around. It was silent, which wasn’t exactly surprising considering that they didn’t tend to be co-conscious all that often without discussing things first. Also, with Marc forcefully taking and giving up the body like he had done was a surefire indicator to Steven just how all over the place Marc was feeling.

 

    “Just rest, mate. I’ll take care of us.” Steven then noticed for the first time that their clothes were a little damp. He dabbed the troubled places with a towel instead of completely changing as they only had a limited amount of clothing as they had brought.

    

    After he finished, he washed his hands and headed back out into the living room to find that Layla was on her hands and knees with paper towels pressed against the small rug under the couch. Steven tipped his head in surprise as he drew closer, unsure if he should make his presence known or wait for her to notice him.

 

    Steven didn’t have to wait long as Layla saw his approaching feet and looked up hesitantly before realizing it was Steven. “You guys alright,” she questioned, sitting back on her haunches to regard him.

 

    “Yes, I’m not quite sure what Marc is feeling, but I think it’s best if we give him some space.” Steven winced at a small amount of discomfort that threaded through his muscles and made it difficult for him to want to do anything besides lay down and wait for it to pass.

 

    Layla sensed how unsteady he was and reached out her hand to grasp his wrist. He didn’t even try to break away as she pulled him toward the couch and had him sit down.

 

    He plopped back unceremoniously, sniffling heavily and coughing into the crook of his arm. His arm came down just as his hand flew up and began to rub at his neck, fingers pressing on the bits that felt the most swollen and agitated when he tried to swallow. It had only been a short while since he had the body and he could already feel how much worse things were getting.

 

    Layla noticed immediately the look on Steven’s face and retrieved the warm tea that she had tried to give to Marc before disaster struck. “This’ll feel good on your throat.”

 

    Steven took it without hesitate and drank down half of it, not even wincing at the warm temperature. He set the cup back down on the coffee table and attempted to swallow a distinct grimace that had his top lip curling and Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

 

    “The bag may have been a little expired,” confessed Layla sheepishly. “I guess I should’ve checked.”

 

    Steven shook his head while pawing at his nose feebly. “No, no, it’s fine, love. I’m afraid I can’t taste much and I drank it much too quickly.”

 

    Layla was certain that Steven was just saying that to make her feel better, but she was unable to question it as he suddenly doubled forward, both sweater clad hands creating a shield in front of his face. “ItchsHShew! ItchsHShew! ItchsHShew! Oh, dno.”

 

    Layla found herself scooting closer to the now sniffling man, the effects of his last sneeze displayed on his palms. His sweater had caught most of it, which was half the problem when it was still freely flowing from his nose and he had nothing but his hands to catch it.

 

    “Poor thing,” Layla soothed as she took the tissues from the box and helped clean off one of Steven’s hands before handing him another handful. “Here, take care of your nose with these and I’ll get the other hand.”

 

    Ordinarily Steven would’ve been mortified that Layla, or anyone else, would be helping him like this. He was gross, uncomfortable, and the worst company he could think of. Despite that, Layla was readily doing everything in her power to take care of him and it left Steven relaxing after he heaved a titanic breath and emptied out both nostrils in the bundle of tissues that Layla had given him.

 

    Layla made quick work of cleaning up his other hand and rolling up the sweater so that it was folded back over his wrist, another layer of sweatshirt buffering the damp fabric from touching Steven’s skin.

 

    “I’m guessing you want to keep this on,” Layla murmured as she folded the sweater down on his other hand.

 

    Steven nodded bashfully. “I’b cold.”

 

    “You have a bit of a fever I’m guessing, so that’s probably not helping.” She sent a remorseful look over her shoulder to the kitchen. “The soup’ll take a little longer too, I’m afraid.”

 

    “Thad’t aright,” Steven murmured, his statement punctuated by a huge yawn.

 

    Layla reached forward and grabbed the remove to the TV and handed it to Steven. “Here. How about you pick something for us to watch?”

 

    “I’b dnot sure I’ll be doig buch watching, I’b afraid,” Steven argued dejectedly. “Plus, I’b probably dnot the besdt combany.”

 

    “I’d venture to say that you’re one of the best people I could want here right now.”

    

    Steven looked to Layla as though she had just told him she was going to move to Alaska and start mining for gold. “R-Really,” he breathed.

 

    “Of course. Why wouldn’t you think that I’d want to hang out with you even when you’re sick,” she asked.

 

    Steven shrugged. “Dnot sure, I guess.”

 

    “Well, I do want to hang out with you if you want to do the same with me.”

 

    Steven didn’t hesitate to take the remote and begin to flip through channels in an attempt to find something that they would both enjoy, which he didn’t think would be too challenging considering that they had similar personalities and interests. That made the decision to watch a documentary about stollen Egyptian art rather easy.

 

    Layla appeared to be rather enthralled in it, curly hair bouncing and twirling against her fingers as she leaned forward on the couch. Steven tried to keep his eyes open for as long as possible only to lose that battle and begin to drift off. Each time he would jostle himself awake, eyes wide until he began to fade once again.

 

    A sudden hand on the back of overly warm neck had him shying away almost immediately. Watery eyes managed to focus on the hand that had touched him and remembered that it was just Layla. “Sorry, I’m very interested, I am....I’m just—“

 

    “I know, Steven. Sleep is the best thing for colds.” Layla scooted over and Steven momentarily wondered if she was finally realizing just how gross he was when sick and wanted to get as far away from him in possible. He was about to suggest that he leave when Layla turned to grab a small pillow and set it on her lap, patting it eagerly. “This might be more comfortable.”

 

    Steven contemplated it momentarily before his body decided for him. He gave a harsh shiver and slumped down with his head on the pillow on Layla’s lap, relaxing as she began to run her fingers through his hair, brushing back his sweaty hair from his forehead. She could feel the fever and knew that he had to be uncomfortable. Perhaps this would bring him a small amount of relief.

 

    “This always used to make Marc feel better,” Layla explained.

 

    Steven let out a low hum. He still couldn’t feel Marc in their headspace nor feel him in any part of him. He tried not to let that bother him; Marc would show up when he wanted to and not before or after. That was just how Marc was and Steven was learning to live with it.

 

    “I’ll wake you up when the stew is done. That should warm you up too.”

 

    Steven couldn’t help but smile as he watched the TV in front of him until the subtitles began to blur and he felt comfortable enough to lower his guard until he faded into a dreamless sleep.

 

    The End

[angora48]

On 7/29/2022 at 1:32 PM, Wolfwings22 said:

‘I swear I didn’t give up control willingly, Marc. I wouldn’t do that to you without warning if I could help it.’ He blinked his eyes slow, deliberated, exhaustion showing in every wrinkle on his face. ‘I can try and take it back if you’d rather.’

 

    Every instinct told Marc to take it, to let Steven wallow in whatever virus they were currently fighting. Something stopped him just say of relinquishing control to his alter. Call it stubbornness, call it guilt, but Marc couldn’t bring himself to even think about giving up control back to Steven.

 

    “Id’s fide. I’ll handle id on by own.”

 

    Steven’s head snapped up as he leaned closer into the mirror. ‘You don’t have to handle it on your own, Marc. We share this, remember? We have to rely on each other.’

Everything about this exchange is fantastic. I love their relationship so much!

Not to mention Layla's relationships with them. I like that she recognized them switching based on their different-sounding sneezes, and I appreciate Layla being considerate of Steven's embarrassment, like turning away while he blew his nose.

Another great story!