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whatthefishh · 1 year

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Happy Halloween, Steven

Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: this was supposed to be a fluff piece and then I thought about how Steven would look in his costume and how I'd probably react to it so. You guys get light smut.

Warnings: 18+, smut, heavy petting, handjob, jealous coworkers lol

Author's note: Thanks to @villainvindicator and @kittyofalltrades for helping me decide how to go about certain parts of this story :) xo

Jake is written in bold, Marc in italics, sorry if its OOC I was just having the best time writing this LOL

Word count: 2.5k

This wasn’t really how Steven imagined the annual Halloween party the National Gallery threw for its staff to go, but let’s just say he was over the moon with how his night was going.

The entire staff was being forced to go. Steven didn’t necessarily dislike parties but he wasn’t the best in social settings either. He felt a little better going to outings with Marc and Jake around now, it felt like he wasn’t going entirely alone. Plus, he did really enjoy Halloween.

Although Marc grumbled the whole week leading up to the party about having to dress up and how lame he thinks it all is, Jake was quietly supportive of Steven putting himself out there more and more. Especially since he picked up on his little crush on you.

Jake noticed that every time you’d rush by the gift shop, piles of paperwork haphazardly collected in your arms, heels clicking on the floors trying to make it to your destination without bumping into anyone, Steven would stop whatever he was doing and just blankly follow your movements with his eyes until you were gone. This happened maybe a handful of times per day, and every time it was the same: Steven would longfully gaze after you, sigh dramatically and then return his attention back to the task at hand. Marc usually mentally clocked out when Steven literally clocked in, so only Jake really knew about this little reaction Steven had towards you aka dopey heart eyes anytime you were in the vicinity.

Tonight’s party was a Halloween costume party, being held in the gallery’s dining hall, but it was supposed to be decked out by the party planning committee. Steven was slightly bitter towards the committee, led by Donna, since they didn’t let him help when he offered. You were on it, too, which was honestly part of the reason why he offered to help to begin with, hoping to get a word in with you, but Donna quickly interrupted your conversation to shut him down as rudely as she always does.

Steven had his costume picked out for a while, thinking it made him look bloody handsome, if he did say so himself. Jake helped him style his hair into a neater, slicked back look instead of his usual unruly curls to better match the outfit. Marc teased Steven saying that he was trying too hard for a bunch of coworkers that didn’t give a shit if he showed or not. Needless to say, Steven did not like that.

“Oi! Just because Donna’s insufferable, doesn’t mean they all are! There are some people I actually like at work.”

Yeah you’re a real social butterfly.

Marc, stop being such a culo. Steven, you better talk to her tonight.

Oh? This whole getup is for a girl?

Steven has to admit when he purchased his Captain Hook costume, the idea of you and what you would possibly dress up as dipped into his daydreams enough times. The shopkeeper looked entirely too thrilled when Steven tried on the black pleather pants, maroon vest and long black overcoat complete with gold hardware detailing and a fake sword for his belt. He also pressured him into buying some cheap eyeliner to drive the pirate look home. It was definitely not Steven’s first choice (initially he’d asked for Prince Charming) but upon looking at himself in the tri-fold mirror and seeing how the tight pleather pants made his thighs and rear look, he readily agreed, secretly hoping it would catch your attention.

If we’re gonna be here, at least we look good.

Deep breath, hermano. Look, there she is.

Again, WHO?

As soon as Steven walked in, it was almost magnetic how his eyes zeroed in on you; animatedly describing something with your hands to the angel with bright white, oversized wings next to you over the blaring dance music. His eyes widened and mouth dropped open slightly once he took in the sight of you, in a tiny, tiny sparkly, green number, hem cut in a zigzag pattern, clear high heels to give the illusion that you were floating, with petite green wings to match. The dress was much shorter than he expected to see you in, especially for a work party, but he was guessing you probably didn’t realize the effect it was having on those around you and honestly? He’s not complaining because where the hell have you been hiding those legs this whole time?!

He was beginning to attract attention just standing at the door of the hall, yet again caught staring at you with a dopey look on his face. It didn’t occur to Steven that he could be attracting attention because of how damn fine he looked tonight, pleasantly surprising some of the staff with his defined muscles on display with his costume choice - the pleather didn’t leave much up to imagination. He quickly made his way over to the food table, as one does with anxiety at a party, and scoured the table for vegan friendly options with shaking hands. Why did he come to this party again? What if nobody talked to him? What if he made a fool out of himself? Why did he think this costume was a good idea? They probably think he looks ridiculous, that's why they’re all staring…

Fighting the urge to nervously run his hands through his gelled hair, Steven stood fidgeting with his jacket and finally looked around the room to catch a handful of the more forward women blatantly staring at him bent over the table stacking his plate sky high, promptly choking on his food at the numerous eyes on him. Rushing to the punch bowl in an attempt to wash his food down before he further embarrassed himself, he didn’t notice you also approaching and narrowly avoided bumping into you.

“Are you…alright? Steven, right?” you asked just as he managed to gulp down half his cup of punch, nearly causing him to choke again as he swiveled around to face you.

“Uh hiya, yeah I’m Steven, Steven is me,” he tried to laugh at the end of that horrible, horrible introduction. He already knew your name, but pretended to ask anyway so as not to seem like a creep, which you confirmed with an easy smile. He tried so desperately not to look away from your face while you were talking but it was proving to be challenging, especially now that Marc perked up at your presence.

This is her? He playfully laughed. Steven, where have you been hiding this little nymph?

Steven wasn’t that guy, he would not be the guy caught staring at your breasts while you were showing him kindness and striking up a conversation by the punch bowl, like the nice girl he was sure you were, he would not, could not blow this chance with you. But God was it making him break a sweat at the effort. He tried to focus on some part of your face so that his gaze wouldn’t stray but then he got caught up in your eyes and the meticulous makeup you applied that accentuated the soft glow of your skin, trailing down to the perfect pink pout you wore tonight and-

She’s asking you a question, cabrón.

Ah, shit, he was not listening. Did you know he wasn’t listening? He thinks he’s ruined it now, for sure. His eyes betrayed his inner turmoil and panic, quickly making his whole demeanor tense which you picked up on with concern and asked again, “You sure you’re alright?” You ask as you move closer to him. He’s tall enough to see down your dress now and he quickly closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

This is torture. There’s a promising pink flush gracing your cheeks when he opens his eyes to look down at you. The track changes, something with a heavier bass starting up.

Do not. Fuck. This up, Steven. She’s hot, and likes what she sees.

Sí, parece que le gustas, this might work.

“Y-yeah, m’alright, more than actually,” he says, schooling his features into what he thinks is a coy smile but on Steven’s open and honest face just screams ‘I really like how close you’re standing next to me’.

You’re perceptive, he will soon learn. You’ve actually noticed him gaping at you a few times you rush past the gift shop in your hurry to get to your meetings on time, but you never get the chance to stop and chat with the cute, tousled-looking man behind the counter. You’ve taken notice though, especially tonight, with his tight black pants about to bust at the seams.

You’re smiling at him encouragingly, hoping Steven will catch on to your advances as you slowly lift your hand to finger at the lapels of his jacket, eyes slowly blinking up at him, looking over his face for a reaction. “I was just saying how it's a shame we don’t get to talk more at work,” you supply him with bits of your previous conversation. The other women who were watching this play out are scoffing at how obvious you’re laying it on for him, muttering bitterly amongst each other as they shift their attention elsewhere for the night. You have faith he’ll catch on, eventually. Hopefully.

“Me, too, I-I know you must be busy though, Donna definitely would ‘ave my head if she saw me bein’ friendly with anyone on the clock. Bit crazy, that one.” He manages to get out even with your close proximity and finger touching him through his clothes. Steven was going to slowly lose his mind if you kept dragging your finger on his clothes, your nail pressing into the fabric scandalously. There’s no way he could be misinterpreting this anymore.

Dude she wants you, stop fucking around.

And then you’re leaning up to whisper to him and he can feel the heat of your breath hit the shell of his ear and your breasts graze his arm, hair slightly brushing against his face in your movement; he can feel his dick twitch in his too tight pants, and it sounds like you’re smiling around your words as you say, “I could use some air, care to join me, Captain Hook?” Pulling back to look at him with eyes he couldn’t say no to let alone form words around. Steven thinks he agreed to join you because the next thing he knew he was being led out the doors to the main gallery by his hand, trailing after you like a puppy. Maybe Marc jumped in for a second back there. He’d have to thank him later.

You don’t stop pulling him behind you, occasionally looking back to giggle at his expression, until you reach the bathrooms on the other side of the gallery. He didn’t notice how long you two were walking, taking the opportunity to zone out at your legs effortlessly floating in those damn clear heels and the gentle sway of your hips as you brazenly walked in front of him.

Marc must have fronted again because he suddenly finds himself caging you in against the bathroom counter, standing in between your legs, hands spreading them as wide as they can in your obscenely short dress, as you sit between the sinks and you’re pulling him closer, closer, closer, until your lips meet in a hot, open mouth kiss. Steven’s hands are roving over your body, nonstop, from gripping your hips to squeezing your waist to ever so softly cupping your breast, and you moan into his mouth when he hesitantly swipes his thumb across your nipple through your dress. Your hands are in his hair, meeting slight resistance due to the product he’s used to tame his curls, his matching groans of desire echoing off the bathroom walls. You’re smiling into the kiss now, pulling back for air as you lean your head back giving Steven access to your neck which he happily attacks with his mouth, lightly nipping you in the process.

So - you didn’t think you were gonna end up with your hand down Steven’s pants - or rather Steven’s pants hanging around his knees - but you’re okay with it, more than okay with it considering you unzipped them to begin with even though he had to pull back to look at you to make sure he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

“O-oh, please, love,” he stutters out as you massage the head of his cock, thumb swiping over the slit. There was nothing you wanted more than to make Steven lose control in his stupid hot costume in the work bathrooms. He’s already breathing shakily, eyes rolling back as you work your fist up and down his cock, as you watch mesmerized, cataloging his face to memory.

Ahh, is this how every work event is gonna go from now on? You guys hiring, Steven?

Marc, we shouldn’t be here for this… As gorgeous as this little tinkerbell is

Steven tries to ignore the voices of his headmates as you continue to work him up, leaning forward to lick into your mouth partially to muffle his sounds and partially to not blow his load right there at the way you’re looking at him. He starts thrusting his hips into your hand, making you wetter just by watching him give in to his baser instincts.

“God, I’m not gonna last, love,” he whines out for you.

“Good,” you purr against his mouth.

His brow starts to furrow, and he looks up at you with a needy gaze as you pump your fist tighter, faster, your other hand reaching up to tug his hair back and he comes with a shout, eyes clenched tightly together and chest heaving.

You’re still slowly gripping his limp dick as you both look down to see his spend all over your thighs, leaking from his tip, dripping down your hand. He shyly meets your eyes as he hums happily and reaches for the paper towel stack behind where you’re perched to clean up his mess. When he comes back to wipe the white ropes off your thighs, you’re already tasting him and his jaw drops open at the sight of you smiling mischievously around your finger. You end up taking the paper towel from his hand and cleaning yourself up because Steven’s brain seems to have short circuited - something you’re very smug about at the moment. He has to shake himself out of his stupor to properly tuck himself away, and voices his concern about you not getting your own happy ending.

“Oh, we’re not done for the night, Hook,” you grin before pecking him and then gracefully hopping off the counter to stand pressed up against him.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mutters in amazement.

Told you it would work, hermano.

Steven, I swear to God if you don’t take care of her, I will.

Marc didn’t need to front anymore that night.

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 2 years

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The Soup Aisle

Summary: Jake takes care of things no one else thinks of. He protects them from dangers they cannot face. So why does the idea of running into Layla unexpectedly scare him so much? Takes place about a week or two after coming back from Cairo.

Warning: Mild talk about panic attacks and reference to self harm.

Word Count: 3840

Word Prompt: Soup!

Jake liked to shop either early in the morning or super late at night.

There tended to be less people, and the people there tended to mind their own business and leave him alone.

The morning crowds were mostly older people that moved slowly through the aisle. They were not in a hurry and had nowhere to be. If Jake wasn’t feeling the time crunch to get back home, he would happily take the morning group.

The old ladies would smile at him and the old men would give a small nod as he walked past with his basket.

The night crowds were a different type. A type that he was more comfortable with. The type that showed up in flip flops and pajama bottoms as they marched to the aisle of an item that was discovered to be missing when they needed it most. They were beaten down from a long day and not willing to make eye contact with anyone.

Here he found young men standing in the dairy section trying to remember what percentage of milk they needed. He found old men reading the backs of boxes to see if it met their required low sodium count. He found single parents holding sleeping babies while they added diapers to their carts. Middle aged women stuffing instant meals into their carts where no one would judge them. Occasionally he would have to step around a sobbing newly single person in the ice cream section or someone having an argument on their phone over how much money they had for that little extra treat.

Jake pulled out his grocery list. Things he had noticed over the week that still had not been taken care of.

Marc was out of body soap and had been watering it down for the past two weeks. It was now more water than soap at this point. He checked it off as he added it to his cart. The man would not notice when a new bottle appeared. He would shrug and assume Steven had filled it for him. Or perhaps Marc just assumed that if he put enough water in that it would magically become soap again. Jake was still not sure which was the correct scenario.

Steven had been shaving with the same dull razor for the past three months and Jake was tired of the razor burn. He carefully picked out a good blade and added it to the cart, making a mental note to somehow alert Steven to the newness of the blade so he wouldn’t accidentally chop off his lip.

He slowly walked up and down the rows of supplies. Toilet paper. Never hurt to get more. Deodorant was on sale. He slipped his favorite brand into the cart in hopes Steven would stop buying the cheap bad smelling kind. A car air freshener? The old one had long given up the pine scent and he felt he deserved a treat.

The light over Steven’s desk had burned out a few days ago and he was getting a headache from all the squinting he was doing trying to read in the dark. What was the wattage again? Jake paused as he stared at the bulbs. Soft 60? Perhaps one of those natural light ones that were supposed to help reduce eye strain. It was worth a try.

Fish food for the Gus group. He made sure to pick out something that looked nutritious for them. No more sprinkles. Perhaps a new filter was in order? Not something he could get at this store, unfortunately. He made a note to pick one up at the pet supply shop later.

Now for the food. This was a bit trickier. While the other two never noticed when lightbulbs replaced themselves, they absolutely noticed when the milk popped back into the fridge.

Jake circled the cereal aisle as he tried to find the brand Steven liked so much. Something in a red box with a cartoon monkey on it. Ah, there it was. He’d hide it in the back to make it look like Steven had just missed it. He’d be pleasantly surprised when he shuffled some of his cans around and there it was.

For himself, he snuck a bottle of hot sauce into the cart. He’d shove it way in the back where neither of them was likely to notice if it was being used or not.

Eggs. They were absolutely out of eggs. Marc put them on everything when he was in charge of cooking. If he was making pancakes, he added a fried egg. If he was making a sandwich he topped it with a fried egg. If Steven was making a salad, Marc would complain until he got a side of fried eggs.

Jake worried about their diet.

He sighed and gently set a cartoon of eggs in the cart then added in egg replacement for Steven.

He had just turned down the canned soup aisle when he caught sight of a familiar set of curly hair.

His heart pounded as he froze. What was she doing here? It was so late at night and he was sure there was a different store a lot closer to her flat than this one.

He turned around and ducked behind a stand of chips.

It was fine. He could be sneaky. He was used to avoiding people. Sure, it was easier when they lived in his own head and he could just wait for them to go to sleep… But he could be sneaky.

All he had to do was go check out while she was still shopping. He was parked at the back of the parking lot. He could sneak out, slip between the cars, and drive off before she had even made it to aisle four.

He peaked through the chips and was mortified to find her far closer than he would have liked. There was no way for him to retreat without abandoning his cart and crawling.

He could also abandon subtlety and wake up Marc or Steven. They would both be upset at finding themselves in the middle of a store with no memory… But maybe having Layla there would calm them. Marc was the most in denial. Surely finding himself with Layla he would immediately forget and assume he zoned out or that Steven had something to do with it.

He tucked his hat into a coat pocket and hoped Marc would overlook the car keys in the pocket.

He reached for Marc and… Found emptiness. “Marc.” Jake gritted his teeth. Panic surged through him as he was met by a stubbornly asleep Marc. It had been workout day and Marc had pushed himself to exhaustion again.

“Steven!” Jake panicked and changed tactics as Layla reached for a can of soup near the chip stand.

He was not used to switching out with Steven. Perhaps it was because of his new found relationship with Marc. Or perhaps it was his newly embraced role as emotional protector to Marc that Steven had built up a fairly strong barrier. Steven was not in denial like Marc and he was very much aware of something going on, even if he wasn’t prepared to talk about it yet.

The world spun and a headache bloomed behind his eyes. “Fuck fuck fuck…” Jake sat down and put his palms to his eyes, pressing to try to push through the wall.

The switch did not go well. That was the best way to phrase it. In fact, it went so horribly wrong that Jake suddenly found himself co-conscious.

“Hmmm?” Steven blinked and stared up at the row of cans before him.

“Soup.” He took a can and stared at it. Was he hungry? Why was he about to make soup? Where was the can opener? “What?” He noticed the cold floor under him did not look like the one in the flat.

“Fucking hell…” Jake pulled and staggered them to their feet. It wasn’t too late to make a run. He stumbled and slammed right into Layla.

Layla cursed grumpily then blinked and stared at them in utter surprise. “What are you doing here, uh…” She looked them over, trying to figure out just who she was talking to.

She was normally very quick in picking out exactly who was driving. The fact that she couldn’t immediately tell set off alarm bells in Jake’s already panicked head.

“Soup.” Steven muttered and held up the can as if that explained everything.

Jake flinched as he was pushed to the front again. Steven may have been groggy and confused, but a part of him was not having any of it and started to fight back. Jake was sure he could thank Marc for this after the stunts he pulled in the museum and Cairo.

“Soup?” Layla raised an eyebrow. She eyed the can. “That’s broth.”

“Steven!” Jake pushed back. He was not about to be left alone with Layla. He wasn’t ready for that conversation. He would rather come out and introduce himself to Marc than start a conversation trying to explain himself to Layla in a soup aisle.

“Nawh, Mate.” Steven huffed. “Solve your own problems!”

The can was clutched tightly in both hands now, trembling as Jake stared at Layla in a blind panic. He briefly considered faking an English accent but he had never been very good at it. He forced Marc’s Chicago accent. “I…Needed…broth.”

His vision blurred and the panic settled in hard. He felt like he was in the middle of a fight.

“Hey…” Layla approached and gently laid a hand on his arm. “It’s okay.” Her brows were still furrowed as she tried to work out what was going on. “Marc?”

He could work with that. She had seen Marc have a panic attack plenty of times. Usually late at night when he woke up from a bad dream, but never in the middle of a store…

He clenched his eyes shut and forced a nod.

“Really? Throwing him under the bus? That’s a bit rude, isn’t it?” Steven groaned. He moved to take front. Jake, still panicking, shoved back. He was upset now. After everything they had been through in Cairo, how dare Steven move to help him now. He could handle this like he handled everything else. It wasn’t like he hadn’t pretended to be Marc before.

“You don’t get to help!” Jake muttered through clenched teeth. “Go away!”

Layla pulled her hand back and glanced down at the cart, looking for any sort of context clues. “Do you want to go? Let’s go get checked out and we can go home. Okay?”

“No.” Steven pushed through. “I’m not doing this again!” Waking up in weird places in the middle of bad situations. If he woke up being shot at again he’d freak out. “Do you want me to freak out? Because I will bloody well freak out if you do this again! You put me here so let me do this!”

Layla blinked as Steven, who she recognized in an instant, started yelling. He swayed and blinked hard as the unknown came back, looking angrier by the second.

“Again? You don’t even know how often I have saved your ass!” Jake huffed and chucked the broth into the cart. “I ask for one thing and you yell at me? Is Marc suddenly the perfect one here? How many times do I wake up in the middle of life and death situations? I get us out! I always get us out!”

Steven pulled back for a moment in surprise and Jake was left staring at Layla alone in the aisle.

She had her arms crossed and was biting her lower lip. She looked worried. She looked hesitant. She looked…

Jake grabbed the cart quickly. “I’m sorry.” His eyes found the checkout counters and he bolted, grabbing the first open counter and unloading the cart in a hurry.

There was movement behind him as Layla cautiously stepped up with him. “Are you okay?” She kept her voice low and soft.

Jake looked straight ahead. He swallowed hard and gave a little nod.

“Rough day?” She set a bottle of aspirin down on the counter and a few other things. His eyes slid over the items quickly. Chicken noodle soup, a box of tissues, and some orange juice. He glanced back at her, taking in her frazzled hair, her tired eyes, her red nose, and her pajama pants.

She pulled out her wallet to pay for the whole lot.

Jake held up a hand and pulled out his own wallet. Cash. Marc had made it easy for them all and kept things simple and untraceable.

They watched their items get bagged up and he grabbed the bags quickly. “I would… I would appreciate it if you didn’t…”

“Didn’t tell Marc?” She sighed softly.

He paused and looked back at her.

She gently took a bag from him and headed to the door. “I haven’t seen Steven that bothered since Marc dumped coffee on one of his books.”

Jake eyed her then followed at a distance. “I may have woken him up and started a fight…I didn’t mean to.” He dropped the fake accent and pulled his cap back out as they went outside.

“Bloody rude.” Steven pushed through. Jake flinched back. He wasn’t used to this rapid switching. He didn’t know how Steven and Marc did it so smoothly.

“Be nice, Steven.” Layla smiled back at him gently. “He’s having a day. You’ve had plenty of days too.”

Steven sighed heavily. “Why are we at the store?” He looked down into one of the bags as they walked. “Oh hey! Light bulbs! Is this for my study area?”

Jake shrugged and gently nudged to take the body again. “Just a few things…”

“Very thoughtful of you.” Layla sniffled and he noticed her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Are you alright?” He nervously stepped closer, keeping pace with her.

“Yeah.” She gave him a small smile. “Just a cold. Sneaks up on you then suddenly you’re producing more mucus than a frog.”

He nodded and dug through the bag then pulled out her bottle of juice. He held it out to her.

She took it thankfully and popped it open to take a drink. “Bit late to be trying to build up my immune system since I’m already sick, but it doesn’t hurt.” She glanced over at him. “Am I that intimidating? That I caused you to have a panic attack back there?”

Jake stopped and glanced over at her scooter. It was cool out and a bit muggy. It couldn’t be fun for her to drive in the open air like this with her cold. “I’m not ready.”

“To be known?” She moved to put her items into the basket on her scooter.

“He isn’t ready.” He took the items from her and put them back in the bag. He pointed to his car in the back and walked over to it.

“Maybe you should let Marc be the judge of that.” Layla curiously followed him. “Marc didn’t think Steven was ready.”

“To be fair.” Steven pushed forward. “I was not ready. Though to be fair to me…Marc did a terrible job of explaining it to me. You know he actually started it by just telling me that he was an Avatar of the moon god. Then I spent the next five minutes running from said moon god who chased me through a storage unit maze.”

Layla stopped and stared at him. She had not heard this part of the story before. She sighed heavily and shook her head. “I…am not surprised. Oh Marc…”

Steven grinned. “So when you tell Marc, can you start by telling him you’re a secret agent?”

“Steven.” Layla gave him a look. “Do not traumatize my husband, please. Even if he deserves it…”

Jake pushed forward and put their things into the trunk then got into his cab. “I need some more time. Please.”

Layla got in and glanced around. It had character, though she suspected would have more character once he felt more comfortable being out.

Jake started the car then paused and glanced at her. “Steven. I’m going to drive now. Please don’t… Switch in. It’s very hard to drive when you barge in.”

“Barge in.” Steven raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one barging in.” He looked around at the cab curiously. “Fine. Alright. I’ll sit in the backseat. But I’m not going anywhere. You woke me up. Now you’ve got to deal with me.”

Jake frowned and wished he could somehow put Steven to sleep. It made him nervous being watched like this. Normally he was the one watching. He got the feeling it wasn’t just curiosity, either.

As much as Steven was curious about the new headmate, having Layla present for it was making him nervous. He didn’t know this person and he didn’t like the idea of them being alone with Layla. If anything he didn’t like happened, he planned to take over by force if he had to. He was learning how to override when things went south. A necessary skill to have on days when Marc was prone to flash backs or having a meltdown.

He wasn’t sure if he could take on this new person. He seemed different than Marc. More on edge, if that was possible, but also stronger and trickier in some ways. Steven had been prodding at him since he woke up. With Marc, he could easily feel the emotional bleed over. The sadness, the anger, the guilt and self hate. With this person, he could only feel what the body felt when his heart beat too fast.

He had been upset at first, but the panic in the soup aisle had made him view this stranger in a different light. He sat back and mulled it all over, watching as the car pulled out onto the main street.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Layla looked over at him, taking in his side profile.

Jake shrugged. “You can ask.”

She smiled at that. He was guarded and far more closed off than Marc was. “How about we start with your name. What should I call you?”

“Jake.” He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Jake Lockley.”

“I don’t want to bring up Cairo. It’s still a sensitive subject for many of the parties involved.” Layla had tried talking to Marc about it on a few occasions and he always went tight lipped. Even Steven struggled to talk about the Duaat. “Were you there?”

Jake nodded.

“Was that you when I was trapped?” She tried to tread lightly. She had already seen him melt down once tonight, and that had just been over seeing her.

He nodded again. His lips pulling thin and tight as he gripped the steering wheel harder.

She nodded and looked forward. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thank you.” He glanced internally and felt Steven get a little antsy. He was sure Steven was brimming with questions. Questions he did not want to answer. Especially about the Duaat.

“You’re a protector.” Layla reasoned.

“Oye! That’s my role!” Steven protested. “Oh!” He slammed on the breaks and was more than thankful that it was late enough for the roads to be empty. “Oh no. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry!”

He stepped back and sunk down a little, ashamed and embarrassed.

Jake sat there for a moment, reorienting and fighting off the sudden urge to punch the steering wheel. “Steven.”

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

Jake tilted his head back for a moment, eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” Layla again. Soft and quiet.

Jake shook his head.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head again.

They sat in silence for another minute before he slowly refocused on the road and started to drive again.

“Steven is the emotional protector.” Layla continued. “You are the physical one. It must be hard to always have to come in when there’s so much danger and chaos. You were saying in the store how you always save them…”

Jake glanced over at her. “It’s not always danger, though it is a great portion of it considering the nature that is Marc.”

“Sometimes you buy soup.” Layla offered.

“Yes.” Jake sighed. “Sometimes I take care of things they don’t think about. Like buying soup.”

She smiled as he parked the car. “How long have you been taking care of them?”

Jake nervously felt for Steven and found him still listening intently. He reached out for Marc and found him still missing, hopefully sound asleep. “I don’t know. A long time.”

“Have you actually ever met me before?” Layla turned to face him. “You do a pretty good Marc impersonation and I’m a little worried about that, to be honest.”

Jake breathed out heavily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on his hands on the steering wheel for a moment. “Hermosa, I stayed out of your business. You took care of him and he took care of Steven. I only got involved when Khonshu asked too much and Marc decided to test how much the suit could heel. I did not do anything with you. I passed by you now and then and once or twice I had to pretend to be Marc when he thought… Sometimes his thoughts get a little dark.”

She raised an eyebrow at that. There was a lot to unpack there. She considered trying to unpack it now but felt pushing him too far this early on would not go well. She could already feel his stress radiating off of him.

Looking out the window, she realized he had taken them back to Steven’s flat. “Do you want me to come inside?”

Jake looked at her from his hunched over position. “Sometimes I do more than buy soup.”

“Steven. Take her inside. Put her to bed and make her soup. Tell Marc to take care of her tomorrow. Please put my keys and things somewhere I can find them.”

With that, Jake stepped back. He thrust Steven to the front almost violently then backed off, forcing the door to close behind him as he retreated away from their questions and away from feeling like someone that didn’t belong.

Steven sat up quickly and looked at the keys in his hands. He flushed and looked at Layla with a shrug. “I think he’s done for the night.”

Layla shrugged back at him. “It was a start. Maybe next time I’ll start by trying not to give him a panic attack.”

“Might help.” Steven agreed. “You look tired.”

She slumped back in the seat. “I’m honestly on so much cold medicine right now that I’m surprised I made it this far.”

Steven worried with his hands and gave her a large eyed look. “Can I make you some soup?”

She relaxed and gave him a big smile. “I’d like that…”

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Marc Spector #layla el faouly #Word Prompt Soup #MoonKnightober2022 #MKtober2022 #Better late than never #This fic went on longer than I intended #I didn't even mean for this to be about soup #I love Jake meeting Layla for the first time #I could write about them a million different ways a million times #Need a season two #Go watch the soup Store video #Just cause

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