threegoldfish

[threegoldfish]

Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights, Steven stares at Marc with his full lips slightly parted, shock and surprise written along his features - at the fact that he has... just done this, pushed the other against the wall in such a way.

That's not what Steven does, usually! He's not one to... push others like this. To assert dominance (a phrase Marc had jused to describe this with, the little lesson he's teaching him here, for... whatever reason, honestly!). He prefers to not do that, prefers to talk over using his physical body (including physical strength).

A clearing of his throat, with him immediately stepping away, as if gotten burned in the process of doing such an unholy thing; Blinking profusely, Steven brings his hands up in front of his chest, curls them around another, then swallows---

"---This is different..." A huff, a pout, thick brows knitting ever so slightly before they furrow, uncertain. "L-like, when we fight, we--- fight! We protect the weak ones from the bad guys, right? This--- this is... this has nothing to do with it." It doesn't, not at all. Another swallow, heat beginning to collect at the tips of his ears and inside his cheeks...

It is... something, to do this, yeah. It's... certainly different. And it's... it's feeling a certain way. It feels wrong, but it's also a bit exciting, but gosh! This is not--- Steven doesn't do things like these, he would be the one to stand where Marc's currently standing---

...Wrong trail of thought. No, don't think about it, Steven! A clearing of his throat, a shake of his head, the blush covering his features only deepening in color as he stutters out a few lone syllables, then huffs, once again.

"Even if you claim that I wouldn't be able to hurt you, I just... What if I accidentally hurt you, for some reason? I don't like c-causing pain, or discomfort, or... ---Why are we doing this again? Can I not just... like, uhm, do something else...?" ... "I-I mean, it's... interesting, that I... can do this, yeah, but... this fits you a lot better. O-or Jake, you know..."

steven grant ꒰ @threegoldfish ꒱ sent : ⤷ PINNED (how about you surprise me. Choose any of my boys and any of your boys. LET'S GO)

For the most part, Marc could say there was a little bit of surprise to his features at the moment. The fact that Steven actually managed to get him against the wall -- used that strength he actually did have. It would be a lie to say some heat didn't flutter around low in Marc's stomach then. However. . . " -- I told you, baby -- y'gotta be a little more assertive with it, yeah? C'mon, try it again. . ." Yes. Marc was trying to show Steven how to actually be a little dominant there. It had started off as mostly a joke, them going back and forth about it. About how Steven just ' wasn't built for that ' in his own words. Meanwhile Marc thought the other had it in him! Maybe somewhere. . . really deep down inside? Not that he wanted Steven to change in any way. This was just for a little bit of fun. The things they got up to when Jake left them alone a little bit too long, it would seem. "Gotta put a little more oomf into it, y'know? Got all that strength when fighting in the suit, yeah? Use a lil' bit of it. Not like you can hurt me."

[threegoldfish]

The reaction to the sucking, the licking, the scraping of teeth, is even better than Jake had expected it to be; His hairdo's getting ruined, sure, but really, he doesn't give a single flying fuck about it at that very moment.

If anything, the way Steven curls his hands into his hair like that to try and hold on, sweet whimpers and delicious groans escaping him in such a naughty way... yeah, it's adding heat to the moment, fuel to a burning fire, and Jake gives his hips another slow but insistent roll, making sure their trapped lengths are rubbing together nicely as he gives that gorgeous brown nipple another suck---

---Those words he's listening to then, however - well, they are certainly spurring him on. So much so, in fact, that Jake pauses, pulls off of that little bud with a wet pop, glances up at his partner...

That grin on his features must look outright devilish - so wide it almost splits his face in half, all made of pearly white teeth and pronounced crows feet, a glint within dark brown irises as a second between them passes. A chuckle then, very sudden and very dark, a brow lifting as a tongue darts out to lick a very bold, very long and very wet stripe across that precious little nipple he's been teasing for a while now...

All on display for Steven to look at, to take in.

"...Is that so?" A hum, too sweet to be innocent, dripping of spicy honey and cayenne pepper. "---Guess we'll have to find out about that, huh?"

A change of plans, determination to make Steven come like that - force him to soil his pants, to reach that high just by them grinding together, by having his nipples played with. Jake's lips are back on his chest within seconds, around the other nub this time, the neglected one - and he bites, strong enough to make it sting but without breaking skin. His hips roll once again, pushing his own very much throbbing heat between those thick thighs, sliding from that spot right beneath Steven's balls all the way up his trapped cock...

Another bite. Another suck.

Fuck, he's so into it that it hurts - and Jake's a sadist, so he's very much enjoying himself.

The way Jake says it will never cease to embarrass Steven to the heavens and back. How he plays with Steven's chest as if he were just the same as a woman, all gripping palms and pressing the meat together here and there with his movements. The thing was . . ? Steven didn't hate it. Gods, no. He actually really liked the feeling of being played with in such a manner. That was the most embarrassing part of it all, really. The fact Jake would squeeze, would flick his nipples and all it did was drag the breathiest little noises from the Brit. Would force Steven's hips to buckle upwards and meet the roll of Jakes own. Feel his partners hard, stiff erection there against his own, even through the material of their pants. Gods, did he want to feel Jake skin-to-skin. He wanted the other to undress them both and just take him against the bloody desk at that point, even if he couldn't quite get the words out. He could hope the grinding of his needy hips was enough.

Look at your nipples, Steven - look at them being as hard as your precious little cock is.

He was going to pass away. He was going to perish into a pile of mush. His cock twitched at the words and a moan tumbled past his lips as his hands finally fell away from Jake in order to bring them up and cover his own face. Granted that did not last long at all -- not when his partner took that opening to dip inwards and wrap those sinful lips around one of his nipples. Suck and scrape teeth, playing with Steven's sensitivity until he had to shoot his hands into slicked back curls. He'd apologize a million times later as he messed up that lovely hairdo. However on instinct he was gripping, holding Jake close to his chest and parting his lips around something close to a whimper and a groan. A mix of both, perhaps. Gods, he could cum like this if Jake really went to town. Just by grinding himself up against the other, having his chest played with. . . his cheeks burned bright red at the thought. "O-oh, gods. . . Love, if -- if you don't get to it soon I'm -- bloody hell -- I don't think this w-will last very long at all. . ." An embarrassed admittance.

[threegoldfish]

Every time I look at you, it feels like the first time. And I think it always will. That's how I know it’s real — because awe doesn’t fade. It deepens.

[threegoldfish]

It's hard to say why, but Marc's feeling a certain way here; He cannot quite grasp what it is, the reason for that weird sensation to pull on his insides - something uncomfortable, something a little off...

He does think, however, that this guy - the one wearing his face and all - almost comes across as a bit sardonic. Thing is, if anyone were to ask why Marc's having that thought to begin with, demanding proof, he wouldn't be able to give them any of it - no answer, no proof.

Call it a hunch, a gut feeling, whatever.

A blink, dark brows lowering even further as an equally as dark gaze continues to rest on that man, with Marc folding his arms in front of his chest. He wonders if he should call Jake on the plan - not to front, but rather to co-exist, to co-observe, to share his thoughts. Marc's unsure, though; He knows, however, that he'll make sure that Steven stays very, very far away for now.

"The name's Marc." He hopes that offering this bit of information won't cause anything odd to happen. "--And don't call me that. Twin. I don't have a twin. I would know." But this guy exists. This Sebastian exists. Fuck. "...---I think."

Emotional. The word reverberates in Ghostface's head, edged with disgust, a sense of conceited superiority. Emotions were the folly of man, and here they were displayed with no shame by a man that shared his face. And he dared judge? Ghostface could laugh. How dare you judge me for showing more strength than you.

"I can't say I am used to it, but is there any sense in getting emotional over something you can't do anything about?" Sebastian's charm perseveres, even as violence brews beneath the surface. He angles his head to affect curiosity, one bushy brow arched. ( Beneath that facade, he thinks of blood, the glint of a knife before it pierces flesh, a face warped in agony. ) "The universe is strange. Questioning it will drive you insane."

"What's your name, twin?"

[threegoldfish]

hey fyi that person posting gore in the rpc tags is back under @/fakeloverpc.

[threegoldfish]

Therapy is not enough I need to uppercut my father

[threegoldfish]

A smile on Steven's lips in return to her words, her explaining how terrified she had felt back then--- honestly, Steven can relate to it. As confident as he had felt after finding back to Marc, them both combining their skills, it had... been scary still, all of it, yeah. Very, very scary. Thankfully though things had turned out to be okay...

---Which was also because of Jake, really. If it hadn't been for him pushing himself to the front and leaving behind an absolue massacre as a result - who knows what would've happened, in the end.

Anyways. Steven swallows, clears his throat; Layla speaks up right then, and what she says... well, he doesn't need to tell Marc any of it, because Marc is listening - very much so, yeah. So much so, in fact, that Steven can already feel a bit of a pull going on inside him...

"It's okay, really! He's not... he's not really meaning to---"

Perhaps it's guilt what finally pushes Marc to the front, to take over instead of hiding from her - perhaps it's him not wanting Steven to get dragged any further into this. Perhaps it's both that causes the shift in that expression, something soft and doe-like to harden into the usual gaze of the other - brows a bit more knitted and jaw tense, nostrils flaring briefly as Marc exhales, then glances to the side.

He is the one to clear his throat now, a little sheepish, before those brown eyes are on Layla again... looking. Taking in the sight. Feeling a bit awkward about... this. All of it. Having sent Steven in and, in return, had to appear like this instead of being himself from the start...

"...Hey." Yeah, great way to greet her, huh? Odd as always. "It's... me, this time." ---As if she wouldn't know. Fuck. Marc licks his lip.

"Sorry 'bout... this. Y'know."

She couldn't help but hum a little in amusement when he brought up her contribution to that night. She was only doing what she needed to do to ensure that Marc and Steven survived. If that meant jumping headfirst into being an avatar, into fighting then she wouldn't question it. "I am glad that I looked like I knew what I was doing," Layla told him. And because it was Steven and because he had the kindest heart of anyone she knew, she felt like she could confess the reality of it all. "I was actually terrified. Worried that I was going to screw up. Worried that someone was going to get hurt." Mostly Marc, mostly Steven. The innocent people who had wandered into the fray. Not herself. She didn't really think about that. "But I think I hid it well." There a hint of amusement in her voice, as if she hadn't just confessed that she had run on instinct that night instead of logic because logic would have dictated that she would have stayed far away from there.

There was part of her that wished that Marc would tell her himself how he was doing but she can't push the man (although part of her wanted to and hard for once again keeping her at arm's length). She could see the inner turmoil play on Steven's face and she felt bad that she was using him an as intermediary. But then she realized she wasn't alone in that.

"Well, you tell Marc..." she began, as if the other man wasn't listening (she assumed he was listening). "...that he shouldn't be putting you in the middle of his..." What was this? A fight? No. She actually had no idea. " --- you shouldn't have to do his dirty work, Steven. I do need to talk to him. It's important..." Something that he would only understand. A bit of their shared path rearing its head. "But in the meantime, I am glad to see you. Glad to know that you are doing what you love, Steven. I can't wait to see you in action."

[threegoldfish]

The longer the other talks, the more Marc realizes that he doesn't seem to be aware of what's really going on with him here - with Marc, with Moon Knight. Some people have been witnessing the shifts first-hand; A cape disappearing, replaced by a suit and an entirely different fighting-style, just to switch back into what's made of bandages and golden crescents instead.

---Sometimes there's something darker appearing instead, a suit made of black and white with a few golden details, a set of guns...

Humming out a low, contemplating sound, Marc takes a seat when Stark gestures him to do such - takes another sip of his drink, leans with his elbow on top of the bar, nonchalant. A little amused, perhaps.

"Yeah, he's a partner - that Colonel one." Marc cannot stop himself from smirking at that, dammit - it's just very entertaining, in a way. "So is the third guy, as you call him. One can say that they're ... hm, always with me, yeah; Even if I wanted to fight all alone, it would be... more or less impossible to do such."

Not really impossible, all things considered - he could tell both Jake and Steven to stay back, which he even does at times - but... he wouldn't want them to be gone, not at all. Would rather throw himself off a cliff than to lose connection to his partners.

Another sip, another hum.

"---You haven't really seen me before, have you?" A lifted brow, curiosity getting the better of him. "I mean, as in watched me fight, do my thing, all of that?"

Because Stark sees them as individuals, which means he hasn't seen the switches happening, the... in-between-changes that wouldn't make sense if Marc, Steven and Jake were separate people.

"Psycho Colonel Sanders -- now that's a new one." Tony almost wanted to laugh. Kind of chuckled at it a bit without being able to help himself as he finally walked around the bar to take a seat. Motioned that Marc could go ahead and do the very same thing, if he so pleased. Decided then was a good time to down a bit of his drink before he got right back to business. "I wouldn't say I'm picking and choosing. You know, what interested me, all that." A wave of his free hand, leaning back at the bar, on the stool. Back to the countertop and elbow on the top to hold his weight. "All of it, really. The hood, the crescent blades. Colonel, whoever that may have been. A partner? You know, I was always one for working alone, up until more recently, so I can understand that. A little help needed." He prodding. Tony was clearly interested in both of them.

On top of that, however. . . "The third guy, too. He's a real interesting one." Because the footage had shown it as well, although not in as good of a view as the rest. Cinematically cut off, Tony would say. As annoying as that had been, considering what the third guy had gone and done.

[threegoldfish]

...When Marc wakes up, he's... well, he's not where he expects to be. He can tell that he's not inside their shared mind anymore; It's a bit too warm around him, and he's leaning against a shoulder, which is... odd.

It's Layla's shoulder, he recognizes it without even needing to take a peek. He would recognize her anywhere, under any circumstances, including this one. ...Her scent, the shape of her upper arm...

Marc used to lean against her like that, sometimes - back when things had been a lot different still, when---

Another blink, a quick shift into a sitting position, away from her - and Marc clears his throat, turns his head to look at her with a somewhat awkward expression on his still a little sleep-ridden features; A hand comes up, brushes some of those locks out of his face - he'll never understand how, and why, Steven wears their hair the way he does - before he clears his throat, glances down at where his other hand is holding onto an almost empty snack-bowl...

"...Well." A swallow, a pause, before he takes a deep inhale of air, then exhales it very, very slowly - the other hand now also curling around that bowl, just because he doesn't know what else to do with it. "...It's, uh... quite warm in here, in your... uhm, pillow fort."

Marc isn't trying to flirt, he's just trying to say something, to be casual - and failing, most likely.

"---Looks like Steven's..." A lift of brows, lips pursing to make a popping sound, followed by Marc peeking at Layla for a second time. "...Poof. Gone. It, uhm, happens sometimes, when he's... tired and relaxed. As if he's losing his grip on the body, y'know?" A hint of a smile, another shrug.

Layla's feelings were much the same as Steven's. A worry, in the beginning, that things might be a little awkward. The fact that they'd kissed, the fact that she had missed Marc when finally having him back. However, as their little adventure had come to an end back then she realized while she had missed Marc, it wasn't necessarily that she missed him as her husband. They'd had their ups and downs. More ups than anything and it had been nice when she'd had him. . . but as time had passed? As she saw the way he and Steven interacted? Well, she knew where he place was, then. She wasn't too upset by it, either, really. This? Was worth far more to her than anything else. Seeing Steven smile wide and emotional. Seeing the joy in his his, shining, brown eyes. "Let's not take it that far. I'd hate to hurt you. I've been told I'm a pretty good fighter." It was only a joke as she leaned a bit into him and focused herself on the TV as well. Took a few snacks and let the beginnings of the night take them.

Thirty minutes have to be remaining in the movie when Layla felt the weight of Steven grow more and more prominent against her own side. Maybe even twenty minutes, judging by the pacing of the documentary and what she knew about others like this one. Yet there he was, dozed off against her like it was the easiest thing for him to do. It was. . . sweet. It was really, truly sweet. She was a good guest, though, and finished the movie there before even thinking of waking him. She didn't want to miss a single second, actually very interested in it. . . However once credits began to roll and she'd popped a few more snacks into her mouth, she shifted just lightly to look down and over at Steven. His face was so mellowed out -- soft looking. Nothing like Marc, now that she knew the differences. No, even when sleeping Marc always had a bit of curl to his brow. Like he could never fully relax. She chuckled at the thought, moving a hand up to gently pat on a tanned cheek.

"Steven. . . Steven. . . Am I really that comfortable? I can't be, come on now. . ." It was spoken soft and easy, as to not startle the poor man in any manner.

[threegoldfish]

Moon knight headers

like if you save.

[threegoldfish]

"---Embarrass you, of course, yeah. It's about you, as it always is - Khonshu, the great, amazing, powerful god of the moon, of vengeance, the protector of the travelers of the night, the one the Ennead feels quite annoyed by---"

Okay, perhaps that last one was a bit mean there; Marc still lets out an amused snort at that, but then allows his own words to just fade out into the night. He sighs for a second time, bringing his hand up to his face just to realize that... yeah, he's out of beer, remembers he's emptied that can mere moments ago--- shit.

Fuck, he's not that drunk, right? Get your shit together.

A little embarrassed now, that hand that kept hovering there for a second too long brushes through his hair instead, as if Marc had meant to do this all along - well, he's trying to make it look seamless, at least. Putting some effort in.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am here because of... them." As much as he doesn't like to admit it, he has fled from the scene because of those people - the crowd, the laughter, the music, the booze, the... everything. A blink, a glance back into the general direction where that party is still going strong, just without him.

Marc's just not one to... enjoy this. Parties. Feels wrong when standing somewhere in the middle. It makes him realize how much of a loner he actually is, and that he's got no real friends besides Steven and Jake, and perhaps Layla...

Social connections are hard, and he's a damn failure when it comes to anything social, honestly.

"...Dunno. maybe, uh, three, four? Yeah." A shrug. Four beers are fine, he's had more in his past. Brows knit, glancing back over at Khonshu finally, taking in the sight of him with something a little wary lingering inside his dark brown irises. "---Why you askin'? In case you're wonderin' if I'll survive - yeah, I will. No need to use your powers to revive me or some shit."

"That's not--" Khonshu sighed while he let Marc go off on his rant. Was he already so drunk? It's kind of amusing, mostly because he knew Marc could still fight effectively if it came down to it. Not that there was anything to fight up here on the rooftops. (Khonshu could certainly point him in the direction of something to fight, if his Avatar wanted to blow off some steam...)

"Beer flowed more commonly than water in ancient times. There is nothing unholy about combining the two, assuming you do not use it as an excuse to embarrass yourself-- embarrass me." Of course, it was a lot different back then. The process was unrefined, unlike the smooth liquid in the can Marc had chugged down. "But that's why you're here at all, isn't it? Away from the damning eyes of onlookers."

... Khonshu was connected to the body, feeling the alcohol in a way. Hardly a new feeling for the god. Although these days he typically wasn't visible and speaking to an Avatar while they drank. "How many have you had?" He didn't realize Marc had even been at the party long enough to indulge in too many beers, but he may have underestimated Marc there...

[threegoldfish]

WHICH MOON KNIGHT CHARACTER ARE YOU?

"This is not funny. I hate this fucking quiz."

stolen from: @templeofvengeance (i can't believe this happened i am howling i am cry laughing) tagging: you!

[threegoldfish]

what oddly specific color palette are you

tagged by: @templeofvengeance tagging: @therapardalis @threemoonflowers @normaltothemax (Jake and any muse you like?) @asgardianhammer@amischiefofmuses (any muse you like :) ) @agentsterling@deficd (Vega and any muse you like?) @fracturedlegacies (Layla?) @mxlevolence and you!

[threegoldfish]

A section of the Ebers Papyrus

An ancient Egyptian medical papyrus of herbal knowledge combining herbal remedies with magic spells. Among the oldest and most important medical papyri of ancient Egypt.

It was written in hieratic script and represents the most extensive and best-preserved record of ancient Egyptian medicine known. It dates to the New Kingdom, 18th Dynasty, around 1500 BC. Now in the University Library, Leipzig.

Read more

[threegoldfish]

The act of Jake reaching over, trying to tickle his damn chin --- it does cause that smirk to widen a bit, for it to finally reach Marc eyes, if only even for a moment; He huffs out a soft, amused noise, something a little lighter and yet still affected by that damn sadness that lingers like chewing gum, sticks to his insides, doesn't want to go away just yet.

Perhaps it will stay for longer than expected. Marc just... didn't expect to get so attached to a Jake that's not his own, in such a short amount of time. Fuck. Well, here he is. And yes, Marc is ticklish, but thankfully Jake didn't try it long enough for that sensation to kick in---

---He's cupping Marc's jaw instead, which, honestly, might even be worse. Not in a bad way, not at all, but rather because it adds fuel to the previously mentioned sadness, the desire to have the other stay, for him to not vanish for forever. A swallow, a clearing of his throat, with Marc blinking a few times before he tries to play it off, shrugs after a little while.

Of course his partners make him happy - they always do. Will always do. And He hopes that he will keep making them happy in return. ... But not-his-Jake still exists, and what stupid feeling regarding him just... ---it's just there, and Marc's fucked up. Maybe it happens because that Jake over there is, technically, a Jake - he is his Jake, somewhere out there. Maybe all Marcs are connected and end up liking all Jakes, all Stevens, hell... Perhaps he's the first Marc to get to know about some universal connection that even reaches through the damn multiverses...

Marc wants to say something, keeps trying to come up with a good comeback - yeah, perhaps I am giving you too much credit, you idiot. Something like that. But it doesn't really want to slip free from his mouth, especially not when not-his-Jake opens his other hand up and invites for him to roll back over---

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

A swallow, a deep inhale of air - and Marc's on his side within a second, scooting over and closer, immediately putting himself straight into that embrace. He'll think about it later, how embarrassing he's been acting, yeah - will hate himself for it - but right now? He just... can't not do it, has to be there, take the invitation.

His arm curls around not-his-Jake's waist, the other remaining folded, sandwiched between them. A face tucks itself into the crook of a neck. Inhaling, exhaling...

"...As if I would ever miss you, estúpido." ... "...---I would. I will." That final whisper is small, but it's there.

He hates how fast the sadness creeps back in. Sometimes it seemed like Marc just had a thundercloud hanging over his head that could only be blown away temporarily. It had gotten better lately, Jake knew that-- his own Marc was happier, with his Steven. And this one was doing even better, he could just tell, but damn. What Jake wouldn't do for Marc to be happy, to not have to watch his smile fade into disappointment like that.

It's just part of life, he knows. And Marc's grumpy face has its own charm, unfortunately for him. But still.

"I wonder why that's the first thing that popped into your head. You ticklish?" Jake took the excuse to reach over, wiggling his fingers under Marc's chin to test it. "Course you're not a terrible lover, you kept Layla happy. And I got a hunch you keep the other two real happy. And they make you happy right back, huh?"

He'd stopped trying to tickle Marc pretty fast, now just cupping his jaw-- because that bit was important, wasn't it? Jake had no intention of stealing Marc away from his own alters, even if he'd caved to his own selfishness, and that was still true. There's no chance he had anything special that the other Jake didn't have, besides a good relationship with his Marc. So why would Marc give a shit if he came back or not? He had everything he could ever want, and Jake is just a phantom that disappears by morning. The carriage that turns back into a pumpkin at midnight.

God, this phantom would love to see what Marc could do with his mouth, though. He's not making temptation easy.

"Vamos, no parezcas tan triste. Why do you look like you're already missin' me, huh?" Jake says none of that out loud, of course, just lifting a brow. His other hand lifts away from him, open, if Marc wants to roll back against him. They're both too tired for another round, and that didn't mean they had to just lay here doing nothing. If Marc wanted. "Think you're the one givin' me too much credit."

[threegoldfish]

When Marc's fingers splay, spread and intertwine with Steven's - or rather the hand he's in control of - Steven cannot stop himself from letting out an audible gasp, something a little choked at the edges, a little forceful, but definitely heartfelt; The sensation is just---

It's... it's a lot, it's so pure, so raw, and it's honestly even better than what he'd expected it to be. With him feeling any and all sensations that happen to the hand he's in control of, he can really feel Marc - feel the warmth of his palm, the softness of his skin.

Just... everything.

"G-god..." A bit high-pitched, with Steven clearing his throat as he blinks a few times, then, carefully so, curls his fingers as well - allowing them to truly hold onto another, to truly... touch. As if they are really holding hands. Just like that.

"Th-this is... a-amazing! I can... I can feel you, Marc! I can---"

Oops, there come the tears! With Steven being so highly emotional, so sensitive to his own feelings, he cannot even try to stop the floodgates from opening; Wetness collects along his waterline, then breaks free in thick droplets that trail down his cheeks, one after another, followed by a sniffle and a sleeve-covered hand that comes up to try and wipe them away - all while he keeps looking at where they are connected, staring like he can't really believe that it's working...

"I can really feel you." A whisper, in full awe, moved in way too many ways. "I'm--- holding hands with you. I'm holding hands with you!"

"Nothing you do would be bad, baby. . ." And Marc meant that, truly and honestly he did. There was little if anything at all that Marc could think of involving his Steven that would fall in the realm of something bad, or something he did not like. Just like now. Watching when the hand he had no control over shifted. Reached over, spread fingers, touched. Really, it shouldn't mean much. It was his own hand after all but. . . the concept behind it is what made it special. The fact Steven had all the control. The fact that since he couldn't feel that hand, it was truly as if it was Steven touching him. His heart began to race with it, even. Just with those small touches being given. Not to mention a softness around Marc's features because he could see the awe on the other's face then. This was truly something filled with wonder for his lover. It was for him as well, no doubt about that. Yet for Steven it seemed like so much more and god, if Marc didn't want to give him the world. So even if it seemed strange, Marc shifted the hand he had control of still. Spread fingers and laced them between ' Steven's ' own in a manner that would have them actually holding hands. Something Marc never thought would actually be able to happen, yet there they were. It left him nearly breathless when he finally spoke. "Huh. . . ain't that something new. . ."

[threegoldfish]

It takes Steven a moment to find his way back into... uh, reality, yeah. Because he isn't finding his way back into the body - it's occupied, he realizes - so he's moreso fading into existence, slipping back into their shared mind space before managing to get to the front just enough to appear inside that make-up mirror that's sitting on top of their small dining table.

"Huh... what---?" Confusion, a blink of tired-looking eyes, before they seem to get a grasp on themselves; Another blink, brows lifting, with the very same doe-eyes immediately looking at Marc with intent---

Didn't Steven just fall and stumble, cracked his nose into a thousand little pieces upon kissing the pavement a bit too hard, such things? Well, Marc is inside the body, and he's looking absolutely fine, so... did he dream all of this, or...? ---A glance toward the window behind his partner, telling him that it's dark outside...

Oh.

"...The suit." Steven mutters under his breath, more to himself than the other, really, before any and all tension seems to leave him - accompanied by a sigh, a hand that comes up to rub across his own features, before his eyes are back on Marc. "You... got us home? ---I... can't remember. I don't remember anything! Did you shut me out?"

Don't get him wrong here, Steven's feeling very much thankful... actually, he's feeling quite charmed by the fact that Marc did this for him - slipped into the body, took control of them both, managed to guide them home without a bloody ambulance taking them into a scary hospital - but he can't remember a single damn thing about it, which means that the other must've shoved him into literal nothingness.

Another sigh, an expression made of furrowed brows and something soft, gentle, mixed into the slight annoyance of having been pushed around like this. "...You know that I don't like it when you... do that. The 'pushing me away until I don't exist anymore'-thing."

His tone is gentle, kind, not at all scolding - like a mother trying to be mad, unsuccessfully so. Another blink, another swallow. "...Are you... ---are you okay? I mean, yeah, I-I can see that, the, uhm, the nose and all looks good---" It does. "...But I mean, gosh, it hurt real bad, Marc! You must've felt it, no? I'm sorry you had to go through it..." ... "...And no, my ankles are not always cold, you donut." Finally, a bit of a pout, arms that fold in front of Steven's chest, accompanied by a tiny tsk. "I am wearing socks, after all. In case you didn't know, socks exist to keep ankles and feet warm."

To be fair -- Marc should have also been paying attention to their stop. Knowing how Steven was, it was a shame he'd let himself also get distracted here. But, well -- it was a bit hard not to be when he was talking to the love of his life. . . At least watching his poor partner fumble his way through the bus was a little bit amusing. Following along through the windows as they went. Once outside of it, Marc had to get creative -- a puddle just off to the side, on the dip of the road closest to steven. What happened next truly was like slow motion, even for Marc. Slow motion -- and then happening all too quickly for the American to actually react to it in time. What could he have done? Well, not much, realistically. He can't switch that fast despite the immediate tingle to do so the second Steven tumbled. It was the breaking of bone that began to send a panic through Marc's chest then, though. He knew that noise a little too well. not from himself, but from doing it to others. "Shit -- Steven are. . . fuck, that looks bad." It was immediate, the second the lady helped Steven around. the Brit probably didn't even hear him -- he looked about ready to pass out, actually. Not good. Fuck, and an ambulance? Not good. It took effort, when switching in then. But not as much as usual. Steven was dazed, was weak in the mind area, so pushing forward to the forefront of the mind worked out in his favor. Only to immediately groan the second he did thanks to the sudden throbbing in his face. Okay, that hurt like a motherfuker. There were still people trying to dot on him, and Marc brushed them off, waved a hand. He didn't speak just yet, but instead sacrificed Poor Steven's outer layering of his shirt. Horribly patterned, and as he unbuttoned it it left them in their undershirt but that wouldn't be the end of the world for Marc. No, he balled up the button up and held it to his face instead to catch the blood still spilling from the now broken nose. "No need. I'll be fine." It was a crap attempt at Steven's accent, but he couldn't really be bothered as he stood. The dizziness didn't just go away, but he definitely handled it better. He could hear the woman that was closest protesting, but Marc again waved her off and began walking away. There was no damn need to make more of a scene than they already had. Instead he grunted until he found the alley that would lead like a shortcut to their flat. It gave him a moment to rest against the wall a second and just breathe a little. "This can seriously only be something that happens to you, Steven. . ." He mumbled it, but Steven was long gone for now. Pushed far back so he didn't have to deal with any of this. Pushing away from the wall, he was back off towards their flat.

Things didn't look up until the sun began to set. Marc had made it back fine, but then it was a game of sit around in pain until the moon was high enough in the sky to allow the suit being called upon. Which he did the second he felt he was able. The moment he felt the power under his skin, that suit was on them and the nose issue was all fixed. Quick one-and-done before he was back in that undershirt and slacks that didn't go far enough down his legs. "Are your ankles just always cold at this rate?" Huffed, because he was allowing the gates to open again. He was allowing Steven back towards the front now that things had settled.