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howaboutcastiel · 1 year

Text

Does It Show Again?

Summary: Steven is injured and Marc underestimates his strength. Layla doesn’t have cell service. Gus and Fish get a sister. 4.1k words

Content: angst. Lots of other stuff? This chapter is plot heavy but also feelings heavy. Hurt/comfort? Canon-typical injuries, Layla talks some more about the trafficking ring, with some details that might be upsetting. Marc talks about Randall. FWMS Masterlist.

They named the dog Nadine.

As it turned out, Layla was still in love with the staffy she had come across after her impromptu date night with Steven. She had loved the sweet puppy so much that she was convinced she had to have her. After several hours of talking it over with Steven and Marc, she had made a trip to the store to buy everything from food to a kennel to squeaky toys, and then another trip back to the shelter. They charged her next to nothing to adopt the stafford terrier. She had been waiting for months for an owner and no one had chosen her. Well, Layla was happy to give her a home.

Except, she still had work to do for Taweret. So Layla’s dog quickly became Layla’s and Marc’s and Steven’s dog, and the boys agreed to stay at Layla’s with the pup when she traveled for work. That’s what Marc was meant to be doing now, as Layla was halfway across Europe in a place so removed from cell reception that she hadn’t gotten a word out to him in days. He was meant to come home from dinner with Mrs. Bamford and greet Nadine with a walk and a night-time play session.

Her little tail wagged frantically as Steven stumbled through the door, covered in blood.

Making it home was a blur. After Mrs. Bamford had convinced him to evade the police, he had run mindlessly in the direction of central London. He couldn’t exactly catch the bus in the state he was in. Eventually, he managed to hail a cab to Layla’s flat. The driver didn’t ask any questions about his appearance. Just as long as he got paid, Steven supposed. So he handed the man some cash and mumbled out the address of Layla’s apartment complex. It wasn’t until he was settled in the back seat that the adrenaline began to wear off of him. By then, the pain in his body radiated from more than his fists.

That’s when he discovered that the switchblade hadn’t missed his skin afterall. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it was broad and solid. Steven had pressed against his chest to keep the blood from spilling out onto the leather seats.

Nadine wasn’t very pleased with the way he ignored her. Steven made a B-line for the guest bath, tugging his shirt up over his head. He felt ready to faint at any moment, but he tried his best to focus on his breathing as he rinsed the blood from his hands. Steven was grateful that his hand wasn’t broken, but his knuckles were certainly raw.

‘I’m sorry.’ Marc’s voice rang desperately. His shame was palpable. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

“‘S alright,” Steven slurred. He pulled a towel from the cabinet and pressed it firmly to the wound between the ribs on his right side.

‘Let me deal with that,’ Marc offered. ‘I’m the one who got us into the fight. You shouldn’t be the one in pain.’

Steven shook his head. He leaned back against the wall for support, breathing shallowly. “I don’t mind it so much.”

‘C’mon, man. We got stabbed. I know it hurts like hell.’

“It’s a graze at best.” Even though he felt Marc trying to push his way to the front, Steven stayed put. He had never been in physical pain like this before, Marc had made sure of that. He had always assumed he was too weak for it, and Marc had always assumed Steven couldn’t handle pain like that.

But Steven felt just fine.

There was something harrowing about the wide gash in his side. Something calming about the rings of broken skin around his bruised knuckles. Steven might have even leaned into the feeling, except for the black spots that formed in the corner of his eyes when he did. Not to mention how much Marc Spector found his serenity to be disturbing, given the circumstances. Still, Steven was handling the pain just fine, and he had no trouble at all keeping Marc from the front as he continued cleaning his wounds. He had just finished bandaging his non-dominant hand when Nadine ceased her whining at his heels.

“What is it, sweet girl?” Steven could feel the weakness in his breath as he cooed to the puppy. She only turned her head and left the bathroom, moving to sit patiently at the front door. “I’m sorry. I have to finish this before we go on our walk.”

But Nadine perked her ears and wagged her tail at the door. Steven shook his head, remembering that saying the word walk would only make her more excited. He turned his attention back to his hands, which were swimming in his vision by now. The wound in his side was still bleeding steadily and he was covered in a layer of thin, cold sweat. He kept working as tunnel vision started to creep in. He struggled to unfurl the wrappings that he was trying to put on his other hand. Again, he propped his weight against the wall, swearing. This time, he leaned into the pain, even though it was weakening him.

There was a scratching metal noise outside, like the rattling of keys against a lock, and Nadine had started whining again. Steven closed his eyes. He needed to focus and get through this, quickly. The door opening registered somewhere in the back of his mind, but the front of it was focused on his hands and his side. He moved his bandaged hand up against his ribs.

“Hello, gorgeous!” A voice rang from the door, high-pitched and tired and singsong-y. Steven smiled, still not having opened his eyes. Some clattering let him know that Nadine had jumped up into Layla’s arms to greet her. “Are you here by yourself?”

And then a beat of silence. The entryway light wasn’t on, but the one in the bathroom was. The door was still open and Steven was just out of view of the front door.

“Marc?”

When Layla spotted him, he could hear the way she frantically ran to his side. Her voice was dripping with worry and her hands cupped his face. Steven struggled to open his eyes.

“Marc!”

He scoffed lightly. “Not Marc.”

“Steven?” Layla’s eyes flashed across his body, surveying his wounds. “What—Why are you…? What happened to you?”

Layla guided him to sit on the couch. Steven didn’t protest as she did it, not that he had the energy if he wanted to. His breathing had gone from steady to shallow to labored. He hardly had the strength to hold the towel to the wound on his side anymore.

“Just a home invasion,” he quipped. Layla didn’t find it funny. “At Mrs. Bamfords. Don’t worry, she’s safe. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Let me help you with that.” She gestured to his ribs. The towel covered the wound and the blood streaming from it.

He shook his head. “I can do it myself. You should go walk Nadine. She’s been cooped up all day.”

“She can wait a little longer,” Layla insisted. “You can barely open your eyes, Steven. Let me patch you up.”

He sighed, leaning back against the cushions. Steven hoped he wasn’t bleeding on the couch.

“Alright.”

Layla didn’t say much as she bandaged his hand, except to point out that his left one was certainly sprained. She made sure he still had relatively free use of his fingers. It was only when she pulled Steven’s hand away from his ribs—laying her eyes on the blood-soaked towel and the wound in his side that was still streaming red—that she found her words again. She tried to keep her voice calm, but she wasn’t used to seeing him bleed. Not without the suit there to heal him.

“This is going to need stitches.” She tilted his head in her hand, making sure he was listening. “You might want to let Marc take over for this. They aren’t very fun.”

Steven smiled at her, like he found her suggestion amusing. “I can handle it.”

Layla wouldn’t admit what that look and those words made her feel. She just nodded at him.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, then. I’ll be right back.”

When Layla returned with her needle, thread, and bandages, Steven was sprawled across the couch. His work pants and boots were still on, but his chest was exposed. He kept his eyes open and on her, an adoring expression on his face as she entered the room. The puppy was at his side, her head resting on the couch just beside his face. Layla settled on the floor opposite his chest.

“I can turn on the TV, if you’d like,” she offered to him. “It’ll go easier if you have something to distract you.”

“No, that’s alright,” he replied. He stared at her for a moment. “Tell me about your trip, love.”

She scoffed. “I’m not sure that’s the kind of distraction you want.”

“I’d still like to hear about it,” he shrugged. “You know we get worried when you’re away. Especially when you can’t get to a phone.”

“Yes, I know.” Layla wiped as much blood from the wound as she could. Steven barely flinched. “Every time I get service again, I read the novel Marc sends me while I’m away.”

Steven tilted his head. “You did ask him to open up more. It would help him a lot if it worked both ways.”

“It does work both ways,” she interjected.

He grinned. “Then tell me about your trip.”

Layla folded. Steven was convincing, and he knew he had caught her. That was one thing Marc was never good at—convincing. He usually got his way by throwing punches, which he would never throw at Layla, of course. Steven used his words, and Layla found his method surprisingly effective. But she also found it irritating. She had gotten used to winning arguments with her husband. So, Layla made sure to wait until the first stitch was done before she started her story.

Not that it made a difference to Steven, of course.

“I spent the last few days in New Delhi,” she began. “Taweret started by sending me to Munich, but there’s a problem with the higher-ups in the—”she couldn’t bring herself to say the name that they called themselves.

“In the ring.”

Steven nodded at her, so invested in Layla’s feelings that he appeared to not even notice the needle weaving in and out of his chest. Layla, on the other hand, seemed doubly affected by the combination of the blood and her own recollection of her trip. Steven knew how serious this job was, which was why he pushed her so hard to talk about it. He was afraid of how Layla would be affected if she bottled it up.

She continued. “So I had to follow the team to India. Anyway, there’s a rival operation there that they wanted to merge with. Or, if they couldn’t merge, they wanted to destroy it. Obviously I wasn’t complaining about that idea. Taweret helped me keep tabs on both rings while my team captured one of the big guys in their rival gang.”

Layla’s hands had stopped moving. Steven looked up at her, seeing the hesitation on her face.

“You’re not hurting me,” he offered. “You can keep going.”

But he knew that the hesitation was not for the stitches. Layla was struggling with her story. She didn’t say anything else as she wove the next stitch in his side, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking.

Steven changed his tone to be more gentle, more deliberate. “It’s okay if you’re not ready yet. If something really bad happened, I mean. You don’t have to tell me.”

But Layla shook her head. There was fear in her eyes. “It isn’t that something bad happened.”

“No?” He didn’t understand what was upsetting her.

She bit her lip. Layla couldn’t look him in the eye.

“It’s that I did something bad.”

Steven was quick with his response. It was second nature to him, this sort of thing. “We knew this was going to be hard, right? I mean, going undercover was bound to have some tough moments. Some tough decisions. I’m sure that you only did what you had to, love.”

Layla’s face and neck flushed with something akin to shame. Steven reached out weakly to cup her face, but she turned her head away from his touch. She went back to stitching him up, nearly finished now.

As she continued—hesitantly—her eyes never left his chest. “They wanted information out of him, but he wouldn’t talk. He didn’t think that merging the rings would be a good idea and he was loyal to his own people. He told us to just kill him and be done with it, that he would never betray his operation, and that we would never work together. I thought we were going to shoot him and dump his body somewhere the rivals could see. I could have almost come to terms with that.

But my boss wasn’t satisfied.

He wanted to know everything that man knew, and he wanted it as quickly as possible. All the guys on my team, though, they’re hasty. They’re impulsive. Not to mention, they’re not too bright. They wouldn’t have the patience or the wit to get information out of him.”

Steven understood what she was leading up to.

“But you would.”

She nodded.

Steven thought that there was nothing else to be said, so he didn’t say anything. Layla wasn’t eager to speak up, either. She finished the last stitch on his side, wiping the wound clean one final time before covering it with some antibiotic cream and a layer of bandages. When she picked up the soiled rags and medical supplies and headed toward the laundry, Steven pulled himself up against the cushions in a somewhat-sitting position. Layla came back with a glass of water in her hand, instructing him to sip on it. He grabbed at her, a silent plea for her to sit at his side, and she reluctantly did.

They sat in silence. Eventually, Nadine moved up onto Layla’s lap and Steven moved to lay his head on her shoulder. He was almost asleep by the time Layla’s voice rang out, small and meek as ever.

“I was really good at it, Steven.”

He blinked at her a couple of times, his brain foggy from the blood loss and adrenaline crash. “Good at what?”

Her voice broke around the words. “At making him talk.”

Steven had nothing reassuring to say to that. What could he possibly say? He only weakly stroked her hand as she cried into his hair. Whatever was running through her head, it wasn’t a feeling that he could imagine. He didn’t know how to help.

They were both so tired. Steven and Layla sat still, holding each other weakly until her breathing evened out again. They could have fallen asleep there, enveloped in one another’s pain, if it weren’t for the stafford terrier that hadn’t gotten her walk for the day.

Nadine hopped down from Layla’s lap, whining and scratching at the front door, and Steven didn’t even have a chance to stand up before Layla was by her side with a leash in hand.

“We’ll be right back, habibi.”

Steven simply nodded and watched as they walked out the door.

Marc wasted no time speaking up once they were alone. Steven already had a fair idea of what he was going to say. “I knew something like this was going to happen. That fucking hippo is no better than Khonshu after all.”

“It was Layla’s choice, Marc. Taweret didn’t force her.” Steven took another sip from the glass of water, struggling to swallow it.

Marc wasn’t convinced. “Khonshu never forced me, either.”

“He was manipulating you. It’s different.”

But Marc was angry. “No, Steven. This is different. Khonshu only used me for what I already was. A killer. A soldier. Layla isn’t like that. She would never torture someone. Not even some sex-trafficking bastard who deserves it. Layla isn’t like me. She’s too good. Taweret is doing something to her, I’m sure of it.”

Steven shook his head.

“Maybe you just don’t know your wife as well as you thought.”

~~~

Layla was home all week. Marc and Steven had taken the weekend off from Mrs. Bamford’s, and she had happily informed them that the intruder had been arrested without much questioning. After Layla had managed to stitch Steven back together, he had allowed Marc to take the reins and spend some quality time with his wife. Marc needed it, and she needed it, and Steven was happy to spend some time on the inside, or just silently watch from the sidelines as they rebuilt their marriage piece by piece.

It had been a long time since Marc had had to heal from a fight without the suit. He had forgotten how sore his hands could get. How hard it could be to move around with a row of stitches in his side. Marc tried to hide his discomfort as much as he could—it was his own fault after all, wasn’t it? Did he really even have a right to complain?

He continued to talk with Layla about the details of her trip. She was getting close to the head of the ring, they both could feel it. But Layla was understandably reluctant to talk to Marc about it. She felt far too guilty about her new and improved role in the whole ordeal. Layla couldn’t bring herself to tell him all the gory responsibilities she had come to adopt. She couldn’t talk to him about the way she had that poor man begging for her to stop. How she had him spilling his guts about everything he knew of the ring he served.

She especially couldn’t tell him the worst part of it all. How that small part of her, deep down inside, had enjoyed making him suffer. How she was proud of herself for being so good at it.

And how he hadn’t been the only one.

Layla wasn’t a fool—she knew everything that those people had done. She knew they deserved everything that they got, and she knew she grew closer to the head of the snake with each monster she cut through. Layla knew that her heinous actions only strengthened the trust that the ring had in her, only gave her more power within the group and more opportunity to peek between the cracks in the operation. None of that justified it, though. She also knew that. Nothing changed the fact that she was hurting people, and that she enjoyed it.

She was beginning to understand why being an avatar had broken Marc so completely.

Marc finally found himself able to talk to her. Really, truly talk to her. He’d already shared so much since they first arrived home from Cairo. Now, though, he was almost completely unrestrained. Tiny piece by piece, he had warmed up to her enough to share the parts of his life that he’d hidden from her. The ones he’d hidden from everyone. Marc was finally finding a way to share himself with Layla.

Some things were harder to share than others.

“I can’t remember him that well,” Marc explained. “We were so young, you know? I only got bits and pieces anyway, but it was such a long time ago. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like he was ever real.”

Marc was sitting on the floor, the dog in his lap, while Layla sat behind him on the couch and brushed his hair for him. He still couldn’t lift his right arm because of the stitches, and his left hand was sprained too much for fine movement. It was easier to talk to her like this, he supposed. He didn’t have to look her in the eye.

“I only really remember that day. Everything before it is a blur, but I remember everything about that day. Steven had to explain it to me. I used to just think that it was Randall’s tragedy. That I was just a bystander. A witness who should have saved him. I was the one who did that to him—”

Layla couldn’t help but interject. “You weren’t. It wasn’t your fault—”

“It was an accident, I know.” Marc scoffed. “But I felt responsible. Most of the time, I still feel that way. It’s hard for me to really believe anything else, it’s just been my fault for such a long time. But Steven explained it to me. He—he gave me permission, I guess, to not just be a witness. I was there, too. I was just a kid, too.”

Marc cleared his throat, blinking away tears.

“And I almost drowned, too.”

“Is that why you can’t go under anymore?” Layla was almost whispering when she asked.

He shook his head and bore a lopsided smile she couldn’t see. “I don’t know. I guess I did fine with all of the training as a Marine. I don’t really remember. And I can swim just fine, the water doesn’t bother me. It’s hard to explain.”

His smile dropped.

“But when I look up, and all I see is water? Or when there’s no one around and I have to go under? It’s like…

It’s like I’m right back in that cave.

I was taller than him. Just a few inches, and I was thinner. I guess I could squeeze through the rocks? I could keep my head above the water just a little longer? I don’t know. I just know when they pulled us out, I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. I looked over and my mom was doing chest compressions on RoRo. I just remember thinking, “I must already be dead. That’s why no one’s doing CPR on me. I’m already gone. That’s why I can’t breathe.” I was just lying there, alone.”

Marc stopped when he felt a tear run along his upper lip. He hadn’t realized that he was crying, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had never told anyone about those moments afterward. He hadn’t even told Steven.

“There was water in my lungs, is what my dad told me. I spent a couple days in the hospital. Almost missed his burial. My dad barely left my side the whole time I was there. He was worried, you know? I guess my mom was worried, too. But when I came home… that was the end of it. It was Randall’s shiva, and I was still alive, and it was my fault.”

Layla was crying, too. “And no one was there for you? To make sure you were okay?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think they were supposed to be.”

She was almost done with his hair. Layla had managed to convince Marc to add curl cream to his routine, now that she had to do it for him. She was almost positive that he would abandon it as soon as he regained his full range of movement. But, it was fun while it lasted, and his curls were bouncier and wilder than ever. Layla ran her hands through the mop of hair one last time when her fingers suddenly dug into his scalp.

“Ow!” Marc yelped. He turned his head to see her staring off into space. “Layla?”

She nodded her head like she was listening to someone. Her eyes focused on thin air. On something Marc couldn’t see.

Someone Marc couldn’t see.

“You’re sure?” Layla said, eyeing the space beside the TV where Marc assumed Taweret was standing. “That’s halfway across the world from our last lead. Why would they be there?”

“What’s she saying?” Marc asked. Layla shook her head, still listening.

“What if that’s really it?” She hummed nervously. “What do we do when we get there?”

Layla nodded and turned her attention toward Marc. Her voice was low.

“Taweret says there’s a lead in Jacksonville. That this could be the head of the whole trafficking ring.”

His eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to Jacksonville,” she said decidedly. “And I’m going to finish this. I’m going to kill them all.”

Marc didn’t know if it was really Layla talking, or if Taweret had twisted her sense of justice into something else. Either way, Marc knew exactly what he was, and he knew exactly what Layla wasn’t.

And just like Layla, he understood deep down that he needed this. That he was meant for this.

“I’m going with you.”

~~~

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#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #layla el faouly #fire within my soul #moon boys #marclayla #Masterlist

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natfosho26 · 4 years

Note

1-98.

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffe mugs and water bottles

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? Bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Social and outgoing

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Plastic cups

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tomboy

7. earbuds or headphones? Headphones

8. movies or tv shows? Tv shows

9. favorite smell in the summer? Summer rain

10. game you were best at in p.e.? Four square and basketball fwm

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? An egg sandwich

12. name of your favorite playlist? “Jams”

13. lanyard or key ring? Lanyard

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? Twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Go ask Alice

16. most comfortable position to sit in? Cross legged

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? Adidas or black vans

18. ideal weather? Fall

19. sleeping position? On a side or my stomach

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? Notebook

21. obsession from childhood? Music

22. role model? Alondra de la Parra

23. strange habits? Smelling food before I eat it lol

24. favorite crystal? Meth jk I don’t know about that stuff lol

25. first song you remember hearing? Fur Elise

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? Play basketball

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? Paint

28. five songs to describe you? Hard to love by lee Brice, self care by Mac Miller, old friends by pinegrove, and 26 by paramore

29. best way to bond with you? With weed and music

30. places that you find sacred? My parents house, my house, and my family members graves

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? Khaki pants and a red polo

32. top five favorite vines? I don’t have any lol

33. most used phrase in your phone? Idk lol

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? None

35. average time you fall asleep? Right about now 9:30

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? Those me gusta ones

37. suitcase or duffel bag? Duffel bag

38. lemonade or tea? Yes

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? Lemon cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? My old computers fan actually started blowing smoke during class once

41. last person you texted? My sister

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? Both

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? Hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap? Coconut

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? Oh that’s a hard one.. superhero

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? Shirt and underwear

47. favorite type of cheese? Munster

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? Strawberry

49. what saying or quote do you live by? Everyone deserves a second chance but never for the same reason

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? Probably some shit talking while high

51. current stresses? My Cooperative teacher hasn’t turned in my final and my capstone grade

52. favorite font? N/a

53. what is the current state of your hands? Holding this damn phone

54. what did you learn from your first job? Don’t mess up hungry people’s orders

55. favorite fairy tale? I don’t have one

56. favorite tradition? Thanksgiving and Christmas with my family

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? Graduating college, getting over a toxic relationship, and coming out to my parents

58. four talents you’re proud of having? Music and arts that’s it

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? “I have a song for that”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? Hm idk about this stuff

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? Don’t would what you cannot kill

62. seven characters you relate to? Ross, Rachel, Jim, dexter, Christina yang, gob, and Batman

63. five songs that would play in your club? Chamaeleon, come on Eileen, Cottoned eye joe, 500 miles, and staying alive

64. favorite website from your childhood? Math games.com

65. any permanent scars? One on my right wrist and a couple on my knees

66. favorite flower(s)? Tiger lily

67. good luck charms? None

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? Food... corn lol drink.. root beer

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? You can’t cry and drink at the same time

70. left or right handed? Right

71. least favorite pattern? Zig zags

72. worst subject? Math

73. favorite weird flavor combo? Ketchup and mayo lol

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? Like 7

75. when did you lose your first tooth? I don’t remember

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)? Fries

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? Succulents

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? Coffee lol

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? NONE

80. earth tones or jewel tones? earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? Fireflies

82. pc or console? Console

83. writing or drawing? Both

84. podcasts or talk radio? Podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket? Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology? Mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes? Cookies

87. your greatest fear? Failure in my career choice

88. your greatest wish? Finding a good first job

89. who would you put before everyone else? My mom

90. luckiest mistake? Switching my degree plan when I did

91. boxes or bags? Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? Sunlight

93. nicknames? Nat or nato-cato

94. favorite season? Summer or fall

95. favorite app on your phone? This one

96. desktop background? Batman

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? Three

98. favorite historical era? Prehistoric era

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