The Weight You Carry (Moon Knight, Steven)

[Wolfwings22]

This story is going to be be pretty fluff filled with some angst with Steven and Marc comforting each other while also sometimes being a little antagonistic towards each other, especially when Marc is embarrassed. I love writing anything with the two of them, especially where they bounce off of each other so much with friendly banter as they both do want to look after each other, but are sometimes unsure as to how. I hope that you all enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

Marc wakes up from a nightmare struggling to breathe only to realize that he’s sick and the congestion is the reason for the labored breathing. Unfortunately, that’s difficult for him to differentiate from the pain of his childhood and a common cold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

    The weight of the world seemed to settle on Marc’s chest as he fought for breath, clawing at his lungs and writhing against the covers. His back arched and he struggled to open his eyes, pupils round and nearly flooding his entire eye. A cough traveled through his body, a sweet taste leaping in the back of his throat to accompany it. He felt that no matter how he tried to take in a deep breath, he was unable to, instead ending up grasping and wriggling to take in any breath at all possible.

 

    ‘I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!’

 

    Marc wasn’t a stranger to the fight to take in a breath, yet every time filled with just as much dread as the first. He could practically feel as though he was fighting against water all around him. The murky depths engulfed him, and no matter how hard he fought against it, the more he began to sink down into the blackened depths. He could practically feel the agony surge through himself and his fear did nothing to help with the continuous feeling that his time was finally up.

 

    ‘Marc? Marc!’

 

    Marc’s eyes suddenly rolled up in his head and the body was taken over by Steven, who was able to prop himself up with the pillows behind his head and direct a few coughs into his raised forearm. His throat was on fire, chest sore from all the coughing he was sure Marc had been doing. His eyes were moist and his heartbeat manic. There was no telling how long Marc had been fighting this, especially since Steven hadn’t fronted in at least a couple days. It didn’t quite make sense as to why Marc was so panicky about it if he wasn’t surprised by his sickness.

 

    A sudden fierce intake of breath, followed by an unavoidable tickle at the back of his sinuses had Steven lifting both hands over his nose, breathing desperately through his mouth until he suddenly pitched forward. “IthSHew! ItchSHew! ItchSew! IthcSHew! Shew! Shew! Shew! Oh, bollocks.” Steven’s gaze darted around the room before he finally landed on the loo with the door propped open.

 

    Steven skirted across the bed, pulling himself to the edge before tiptoeing forward, balls of his feet striking the floor harshly. It was only when he was inside the washroom did he close the door with his foot and stand over the sink, hands brought down under the steady stream from the faucet as he fought to clean them off. His nose was still running freely and he half expected someone to catch him in this predicament, which he was sure would embarrass him to no end.

 

    Once Steven had washed off his hands and dried them on his shorts, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on the top of the toilet and brought it up to his nose, blowing in one continuous stretch. He coughed in the aftermath, throat burning, as he folded and swiped the tissues in every way that he possibly could to make sure that he had cleaned himself up to look at least mildly presentable.

 

    However, he felt even worse if that was even a possibility. His head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, chest heavy and lungs sore from all the coughing Marc had probably been doing. His stomach felt empty and nauseated at the same time while his body seemed to prickle with the beginnings of a fever that he wasn’t sure exactly how long Marc had been slogging through it.

 

    His stomach suddenly gave a rumble and he was left to wonder exactly how much Marc had eaten since he had been sick. He was guessing it wasn’t much if his stomach was that noisy after a couple days of him not fronting. Marc had never been the best at caring for the body, which was usually Steven’s job. He made a mental note to perhaps write Marc a list of things to be done everyday such as eating and showering just to make sure that the body was taken care of.

 

    Another growl sounded from his stomach and he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Luckily, he always kept the fridge well stocked and was sure there was something simple he could make that would be nutritious.

 

    Steven made his way through his flat, ignoring the sudden chill that had his teeth shattering. He rubbed his palms over his upper arms before taking a step to the fridge and yanking it open. There were a few options that he could see, fresh vegetables and some legumes that he thought about making. However, when his eyes landed on a takeaway tray that he could remember picking up after work a couple days ago, convenience and ease suddenly sounded much nicer than going through the effort to cook something.

 

    He grasped the box and pulled it out of the fridge before closing the fridge with his elbow. He opened the lid and headed to the back counter here he kept the utensils. He pulled out a fork and began to stir the rice and tofu around. He brought up a bite to his mouth and sighed when he realized that his nose was so clogged that he could hardly taste anything. It was only the memory of the taste that made it in anyway tolerable.

 

    ‘I don’t even know how you can eat that cold.’

 

    Steven was so used to hearing another person’s voice inside his head that he hardly reacted when he heard Marc and looked down to see the man’s reflection glancing back at him in a bottle of olive oil that had been left out since who knows when. Then again, Marc hardly ever cooked, so Steven could deduce that he had been the last one to use it, though he wasn’t sure exactly when.

    

    Turning his attention back to the man who had spoken, Steven shrugged and grabbed another forkful and made a show of smiling as he swallowed it down. “Can’t taste a spot of difference, mate. Besides, takeaway tofu doesn’t warm up well after the first day.”

 

    ‘That’s way more information than I needed to know on that.’

 

    “You’re the one who asked.” Steven took another bite, wincing with each swallow. “You okay by the way?”

 

    A flicker of impatience shown in Marc’s gaze. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

 

    Steven held up a single finger and set his food down harshly on the counter before spinning around, head ducked down into his elbow, breath hitching momentarily. “IthcHSew! ItchSHew! IthcSHew! ItchSHew!” He momentarily lifted his head and gave a sniffle before straightening and heading back over to the nightstand he kept beside his bed. He pulled the top drawer out and selected the first handkerchief that he saw. He brought them up to his nose and blew as he wandered back into the kitchen. Even after blowing his nose he still felt unable to breathe, and he tucked the handkerchief into his pocket as he picked back up his takeaway and continued to eat.

 

    ‘Didn’t mean for you to have to deal with this so early. I can take the body now.’

 

    Steven shrugged and stuck his fork into a piece of tofu and swirled it around the cool rice. “It’s fine. Just going to finish this and go back to sleep. No harm done.”

 

    ‘You’re not going to insist that we have a talk or some shit?’

 

    Steven tried not to react to the venom in Marc’s tone. He let out a breath and set his takeaway on the counter, no longer hungry.

 

    He knew what Marc was trying to do as he had done it before. Marc grew defensive when he knew that he was showing weakness, even to Steven when he was well aware of it. Talking through the struggles that Marc went through was something that Steven never wanted to push, but sometimes it was inevitable. They always would talk it out, though not usually with the swiftness that Steven would’ve appreciated.

 

    Shaking his head to clear it, Steven took the takeaway back to the fridge and set it inside before grabbing a bottle of flavored water that he had asked Marc to pick up from the market and had been surprised to learn that he had. Watermelon kiwi was his favorite and he was pleased to see that was the bottle that he selected and quickly unscrewed the cap and drank until his lungs began to constrict, forcing a coughing fit.

 

    The bottle slammed down hard on the edge of he counter as Steven swayed, a hand coming up to rub at his chest as he continued to cough. His stomach lurched and he suddenly feared that he may bring up what he had just managed to both eat and drink. Dizziness swamped his mind until he was forced to take a knee on the floor to ensure that he didn’t completely fall over.

 

    Pressure seemed to form behind his eyes until he felt the warmth of another presence within him. ‘Steven? Steven, you alright?’

 

    Steven squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Maybe that would keep him from feeling the waves of unsteadiness wash through him. “Give me a sec, Marc. Have to get my bearings.”

 

    A tightness continued to constrict around his chest until Steven was grasping so hard at the front of his shirt that he was sure he was stretching the material beyond repaid. He couldn’t remember the last time he had coughed this hard and felt so out of breath. Had this been what Marc had been dealing with before he had taken the body? If so it suddenly made sense why Marc had woken up so panicked.

 

    ‘Try and take in a breath through your nose—‘

 

    “Can’t,” Steven gasped. “Too clogged.”

 

    Of course Marc had known that. He had the same cold that Steven did and had been dealing with a combination of a blocked or runny nose nearly the entire time.

 

    ‘Relax your muscles then and stand up slowly. Staying hunched over like that isn’t going to help things,’ Marc explained in such a Marc-like way that Steven actually believed him.

    

    Steven looked around feebly, still coughing with eyes growing moist with tears of pain.

 

    ‘Reach up on and your left side is the handle of a cabinet. It can take  your weight. Use it to push yourself up until you can hang onto the counter for balance.’

 

    Part of Steven wanted to snap at Marc that he could’ve thought of that, but he was sure that was just his fever riddled mind and the panic that continued to overwhelm him.

 

    ‘You can do this.’

 

    There was something too reassuring about Marc’s faith in him that had Steven reaching up with one hand while still using the other to press against his chest. The coughs weren’t coming nearly as strong, yet they also weren’t tampering off as they always did either.

 

    With a grunt of preparation, Steven’s hand grasped the handle and forced the cabinet open to secure a better grip with fingers curled around it as much as possible. He shuffled his feet closer to the cabinets and began to push up with his knees, eyes drawn to his legs to see how much they were shaking while he still fought for breath.

 

    ‘Don’t look down! Stay focused on your task!’

 

    “M’trying,” he grunted as he forced his back straight and gave a small jump, elbows coming down hard on the counter as his arms stretched out and momentarily held him as his legs struggled to compensate and find their footing. Once they were secure and he no longer felt unsteady, he straightened the rest of the way and continued to cough into a raised fist. However, he did find the more that he straightened, the slightly easier his breathing grew.

 

    He wasn’t aware of his hand moving on it’s own until it reached out and took the water bottle and brought it up to his mouth. Steven drank greedily and was able to regain control when he deemed he had enough and set it back on the counter.

 

    Sighing, he turned and pressed his forehead against the counter before looking up to find Marc staring back from the sloshing water from inside the bottle. The concern was almost palpable, his brow knit high on his forehead. It was a look that Steven hoped he would never have to see from his alter again.

 

    “Thanks,” Steven choked out, slumping forward.

 

    Marc let out a low hum. ‘You should probably take that when you go back to bed. Make sure to sleep on an incline too and watch for the post nasal drip. That’ll cause a cough and a sore throat.’

 

    Steven wasn’t sure what the sudden switch in Marc was, and he wasn’t about to ask. He only gave a brief nod and grasped the bottle tightly in two hands, and when he was sure he was steady enough, stood to his full height and shuffled back across the flat. He didn’t bother to walk over the sand circle before falling into bed, tiny particles of dirt and grit sticking to his skin and the sheets alike. Marc would complain about that as soon as he took control of the body, yet Steven was too exhausted at the moment to care.

 

    The bottle was thrust down hard as Steven grasped the sheets and comforter and wrapped them around himself. He couldn’t believe how tired he suddenly was or how much that fit had taken out of him. If that had been how Marc had felt when he first woke up, Steven could understand the sudden switch.

 

    Just when he felt as thought he could possibly fall into a dreamless sleep, he heard the familiar voice once again.

 

    ‘Thought I was drowning.’

 

    Steven lifted his head and rolled onto his side to face his nightstand where he had placed a small mirror just for this purpose. Instead of seeing his face, he saw Marc, who was looking much more sullen than before. “What was that?”

 

    ‘I thought that I was drowning in water or some shit.....can’t really remember much of it now. Could feel the water all around me and couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. I didn’t mean to pull you into that.’

 

    “You weren’t trying to do this all yourself, were you,” Steven rasped, throat burning.

 

    ‘Didn’t want you to find out this way. I thought I could hold it off so that you weren’t here for the worst of it. Guess I did a pretty pathetic job.’

 

    Steven’s eyes rounded as he gave a single hard cough against his pillow. “You didn’t, mate. I would’ve helped if you would’ve told me.”

 

    ‘Yeah, I know.’

 

    Things grew silent and Steven momentarily wondered if that was his sign to get some shuteye. Something stirred instead of him instead, telling him that he needed to keep speaking to Marc, at least for a little while.

 

    “If you want, you can tell me more about that nightmare. Might help,” Steven suggested, fully expecting Marc to shut him out and tell him to bugger off. He would use stronger language usually, but the sentiment was the same.

 

    ‘What do you want to know?’

 

    Steven held his breath, fearful of saying anything that may spook Marc back into the depths of their headspace and crush any chances that he had of talking about what had happened. He needed to tread carefully, which was something that he often struggles to do.

 

    “As much as you’re willing to share. I want to hear all of it, but if you don’t want to share, then you don’t have to. Two way street here, Marc,” Steven reminded, the back of his hand coming up to rub at his nose until he remembered that he still had his handkerchief in his pocket.

 

    He pulled the cotton square from his pocket and blew his nose hard, wincing at the sound. “Excuse me.”

 

    Marc ignored him, gaze unreadable. ‘Sometimes I have nightmares about just drowning. I’m in a cave and something is pulling me under the water. Sometimes it’s Randall, wanting me to join him, and other times it’s my mother. She’s angry and wants me to drown in those depths. Usually when I wake up I can shake it off. That didn’t happen today.’

 

    “I’m willing to guess it could be the congestion. It’s hard to breathe now; that could translate into your sleep world as well,” Steven suggested.

 

    ‘I suppose that’s possible. What else do you want to know?’

 

    Steven thought for a little while, the foggiest in his brain making it hard to concentrate on anything. He didn’t want to lose Marc while he had him, however, and did his best to focus on the task at hand.

 

    “Can you tell me about your brother? I don’t think I know much about him?”

 

    ‘You want to hear about Randall?’

 

    “Sure, so long as you’re willing to tell me.”

 

    It was one of the first times that Steven saw Marc genuinely smile when they weren’t in the presence of Layla. If he had known bringing up Randall in a positive light would garter this reaction from Marc, he would’ve asked about him a long time.

 

    ‘Well, Randall wanted to be an artist and was always following me around and such.....’

 

    Steven listened for as long as possible, hanging on to Marc’s every word as he adamantly told his alter all about his brother and what they had used to do when they were younger. It wasn’t until Marc was fully soothed by their conversation that Steven felt able to drift off to sleep, knowing that for the night both of them would be at ease.

 

    The End